#when i used to eat mud in the park

[thequid]

I'm missing out in life.

Take me back.

#personal #quotes #thoughts #im just so done #where has the time gone ? #when i used to eat mud in the park #and wash myself along with my car #omg #childhood #my old memories

[spiderlyla]

request for fluff-tober!

reader learning spanish behind miguel's back using an app.

he finds out one day when he comes home early and was surprised to hear a male voice talking in spanish, coming from the bedroom. immediately, rage filled him and he burst inside the room, startling reader who was using duolingo on the computer. reader is startled and tries to hide to keep the surprise, but it's too late.

eventually miguel questions them and learns that reader has been trying to learn spanish for a month now, so they could understand miguel better. also, so they wouldn't have to 'annoy' him by asking him to translate whenever he talks in spanish.

it ends with miguel teaching reader alongside them using the learning app :D he'll find it so adorable even if reader speaks in broken beginner spanish.

Day 6 of Flufftober

synopsis: your secret is out.

lumi's note: thank you, anon for this really cute request! this is actually the first request I've written for fluff-tober out of all of them.

pairing: gn!reader × miguel o'hara

Guilt was enveloping Miguel from the inside out for the past two weeks.

Work has been extremly hectic for the past month, but since the holidays were coming up, everyone was trying to rush their work so they could be able to spend the holidays at their universe's. Coincidentally, there have been alot of breachs in the multiverse, multiple anomalies showing up where they shouldn't be, and of course, with Miguel being the leader of the spider-society, alot of the work load fell on his shoulders.

He hasn't returned home in days, and when he did, he'd always find you fast asleep. It filled him with immense guilt that he was neglecting you for so long.

So today, he came home earlier than he usually would—much earlier. Early enough for you you have just returned home from work. He passed by a nearby flower shop to get you a nice bouquet of your favourite flowers, he couldn't walk in empty handed after all. He had a few plans for you this evening, maybe he'll cook you dinner, and you'll spend the rest of the evening making dessert together.

The walk home wasn't long, especially since he swung there, landing on your balcony. He ran his hands through his hair a few times, making sure he looked good in the reflection. His under eyes were a little darker than before, but other than that, nothing changed all that much.

He slid the door open and stepped inside, noticing how queit the apartment was. Weird, he thought, he did see your car parked on the street, and it was still warm when he passed by it. There was a faint smell of spices, something with curry? His eyes spotted your keys and phone on the table near the front door, your shoes tucked neatly to the side, with a little bit of mud sticking to the bottom of it.

So you are home.

He looked around, you weren't in the living room nor were you in the kitchen, which was odd, you usually liked to relax by the TV while eating.

He turned around, going to look for you in the bathroom, when he heard it. A hushed, baritone voice, that of a man speaking spanish.

In your bedroom.

Miguel's limbs froze, but he could physically feel an extreme pressure on his chest, his heart racing as he listened in to what he told you.

"Te quiero a ti, no a otro." [I want you, not anybody else.]

A pit formed in his stomach, his legs felt heavy when he tried to move them. There was a man, in his bedroom, talking in spanish for his partner, telling them how much he wants them.

Anger seeped theough every fiber of his being when he heard him repeat it, 'Te quiero a ti, no a otro.' but when he heard your voice, struggling to repeat what he said, he felt his entire being go numb before all that anger gave him the energy to move towards the door and push it open.

The door flew open, the handle coming off in Miguel's fist from how tightly he gripped it, his eyes fell on you, you wore one of Miguel's shirts, your plate of rice and curry set to the side on the desk, while you sat infront of your laptop.

"Mig!—Shit, honey, you scared me!" You exclaimed, looking rather startled. Miguel glanced around, eyebrows furrowed so hard it brought him a little headache. The bed was made, there was no trace of anybody being inside but you. Your feet carried you to where he stood, and you tip-toed, cupping his cheeks in your hands while his maroon eyes scanned the room once more.

"Are you okay, baby? Is something wrong?" Your fingertips felt wonderful on his skin, he could smell the scent of your bodywash, the arouma of your shampoo. It calmed his fried nerves and racing thoughts a little bit. "There was...someone speaking." He mumbled, putting a hand on the one resting on his cheek. "A man."

"Hm?" You then noticed his shifty glances, the way he tensed up when he said those words. Miguel couldn't feel the presence of anyone else in the room but the two of you, maybe the lack of his spider senses were the reason. "There is no one but me, honey. Calm down, it's okay." You seemed to be hiding something still, you've been alarmed ever since he entered the room.

"I know, amor." He mumbled, "But I'm sure I heard a man speaking. He was speaking spanish." When he looked back at you, your face had flushed with colour. His eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched, that couldn't be someone on the phone, right?

"Oh, um, well, I wanted this to be a surprise, but..." You intertwined your fingers with him, and led him to where you were previously sitting. You pointed at the screen of your computer, where a cartoonish man was standing next to a woman, holding hands. The words were scrambled, and there was a line at the bottom of the page, to assemble the sentence correctly. You leaned over the seat and clicked the little speaker icon, and that baritone voice erupted out of the computer, repeating the same words Miguel had heard earlier.

"Oh." His featured relaxed a little, while his ears and neck turned a dark shade of red. "What did you think was going on, Miggy?" You wiggled your eyebrows teasingly at him, but he kept his composure, trying to deflect the embaressing situation he put himself in. "You're learning Spanish?"

Now you were the one blushing, a little embarrassed. "Yeah, have been for the past month."

"Why?"

You fiddled with your fingers for a moment, before answering him. "For you. It must be more comfortable for you to speak in spanish, I want to understand you better, and I don't want you to keep translating everything you say to me, I figured how annoying that must be for you. I wanted it to be a surprise too..."

Miguel's previously sour expression softened at your confession. None of his previous partners had even tried to do that for him, but here you were, going the extra mile just to simply make him feel comfortable.

His big palm cupped your cheek, he leaned down to kiss your forehead, "You're too sweet." He chuckled, "But it's not annoying to translate, no, and I'm glad you're trying, mi sol." He put down the flowers on the desk, "Though, you should've asked me to help, I'm sure I'm more knowledgeable than this stupid bird app you're using."

You giggled, holding onto him. "I'm sure you are, honey, but you didn't have time, so I thought maybe I shouldn't ask."

"I'll make time." He spoke nonchalantly, pulling a chair beside you and sitting down. You raised your brows, but sat down on your own chair. "Now, show me how would you say that sentence."

You looked at the screen for a moment, then turned to Miguel, "T-Te qui-ero a ti, no a o-tro." Your visible cringing at the way you spoke evoked a chuckle out of Miguel, but he did not mock you. "No, baby, you have to roll your r's a little. And don't be afraid to speak, we're learning, aren't we?" You nodded, leaning forward. "Can you say it, Mig?"

"Of course," He leaned forward a little, so close to you that your noses almost bumped. He paused for a minute, crimson eyes trailing on your lips for a split second. "Te quiero a ti, no a otro." His pronunciation made it sound like a completely different sentence, or maybe it was the way he said it, his voice low, his eyes boring into your own. He brushed his lips against yours, and you let out a gasp. "Well, go on, amor.." He hummed queitly. You let out a broken sigh, speaking right before you pressed your lips on his.

"Yo también te quiero" [I want you too]

🏷: @lizard757 @thevoiceinyourheadx @lulu-baked-beans @obi-mom-kenobi @bibikaiherau @thechloralkatniss-blog @sukunamoon @crazy-ravioli @autismsupermusicalassassin @dangerousness15 @dumb-gemini12 @telefood @unear7hly @deffnotnia @ginger23 @vicravluv @sakinetic @longer-than-i-should-admit @dbiebxiwns @sweetlemongrove @currentlyinflames @minalovesyoubabes

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@heyohalie @johfaam @bubbsieeee @iite-cool @oharasmommymilkers00 @mousettea @jokmi @nayylas @namjoons-baby @liviiyyy @viriexo @vermillions @deltaworkwarmpepsi @number1gal @swiftyangx12 @millswifeyofkeigo @library-lunatic @zayai @amelialysm @jennwithobsessions @lovleystarfish @funhour @gracielukey @mazda99 @reabrigando @syd-vixious @sweetsonyangel

@kksverse @perrierbottleofproblems @motherfuckergentleman @lavielenrose

#miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #astv #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o hara #spider man atsv #lumi's fluff tober #spiderman #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spiderman into the spiderverse #miguel fanfic #miguel o' hara #miguel atsv #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x you #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel o hara fluff

[jobean12-blog]

Wood You Be Mine?

Pairing: Lumberjack!Joel Miller x reader

Word Count: 2,667

Summary: Your work and Grandmother bring you away from the city and into the mountains and you find more than just some peace and quiet.

Author's Note: I'm really enjoying these AU's with Joel! Been fun to explore and he wears enough flannels LOL Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: it's fun and flirty and reader is sassy and Joel is grumpy and it's fluffy and soft too!

Joel Miller Masterlist

After several miles of driving along a bumpy dirt road, the cabin appears. A puffing chimney tops a two-story log house, and red checkerboard curtains line the windows. You park your car in front of the porch. The only other vehicle you see on the property is an old blue pickup truck.

When you step out of the car, a rhythmic pounding echoes from the backyard, somehow in tune with the abundance of sounds from the surrounding woods.

You sneak around the side of the porch hoping to catch a glimpse of your newest client. He’d reluctantly agreed to have his cabin featured in your magazine but only because the story was about eco friendly homes built by their owners.

You round the corner of the house and stop dead in your tracks. You had no idea what the man looked like from the front, but from the back…well you liked what you saw.

His strong arms raise an axe high above his head, then crush it down on a log propped on another stump. The corded muscles of his forearms flex with every movement and his biceps are barely contained by the rolled-up sleeves of his flannel.

Faded and worn blue jeans hug his ass and thick thighs and a pair of scuffed up work boots complete the ensemble. A real-life lumberjack.

He stops momentarily, leaning over to grab a rag, and wipes the handle of the axe. He swings the axe again, splitting the log in front of him, and the two half pieces tumble to the ground.

Whatever noise of appreciation comes out of your mouth was not meant for his ears but suddenly, his head whips around and he levels you with an aggravated glare.

He drops the axe to the ground and stalks over to where you stand, his dark brown eyes narrowed and his soft lips tight with his gritted teeth.

“Can I help you with somethin’? Since you’re trespassin’?” he rumbles.

His eyes rake over you and he glances toward the sky.

“From the city?”

You bristle. “Yeah, and what’s it to ya?”

He snorts. “Those boots look real practical darlin.’ I’m sure they’ll come in handy for the next snow storm.”

You look down at your heeled feet. “We plow snow in the city. Super convenient. You know since people like to get a life. Do things. Instead of hiding away in the mountains.”

He raises a bushy eyebrow. “Uh huh. Well, good for you. Any reason why you’re interrupting me.”

“Just here to take the pictures for Mountain Living magazine.”

You rummage through your bag and pull out some papers, passing them his way. You can’t help but notice how his hands dwarf them.

“So you’re the photographer.”

“Yep,” you answer, popping the p and giving him your name.

“Joel Miller,” he grunts and stands to his full height, crossing his thick arms over his broad chest.

You smile brightly and bat your lashes.

He scowls.

“Let’s go inside so you can take your pictures. And then you can get back to your fancy city life.”

You follow him inside, careful to avoid the mud puddles. A loud, keening screech shatters the silence and you yelp in surprise. You slide in your boots and bump into Joel, grabbing his thick bicep for safety.

A huge bird swoops by and lands on a nearby tree branch, ruffling it’s feathers and eyeballing you. Your fingers flex on his muscle and you gasp.

“What is that? It looks like a dinosaur! Is it going to eat us?”

“It’s just a hawk darlin’,” he answers with a shake of his head. “Shit, don’t they have any birds in the city?”

“I mean sure,” you begin, “but they are small and hop around a lot.”

He stares at you, unmoving. “Well, you’re not in any danger. Unless it decides to take a shit on your head.”

He says it without cracking a smile.

“Aren’t you hilarious,” you scoff with a roll of your eyes.

“Why exactly are you up here in the wilderness?” he asks. “You don’t seem too excited about it.”

“Other than work…I’m visiting my grandmother. She lives up here and I’m staying with her for the next month. Getting some fresh air and all that.”

“Just as you step up onto the porch you hear a whining noise. A fluffy yellow lab ambles over and sits on your boot, wagging it’s tail and looking up at you with big brown eyes.

“Who’s this?” you ask as you lean down to pet the dog.

“That’s Winston.”

“He’s a lab right?”

“Yep.”

You cough to hide your laugh. “He’s very cute but I thought it was mandatory for all people living here to have some huge breed like a Pyrenees or Saint Bernard.”

“Does your grandmother have some giant dog?” he asks.

“Two Swiss Mountain dogs actually. Bert and Ernie.”

He surprises you with a huge smile. His whole face lit up, his eyes even crinkling at the corners.

“Nice names. I like your grandmother.”

“She’s the best. Even if she worries too much about me. She wants me to move out of the city and come up here for the cleaner air!”

He opens the front door and ushers you inside. “She has a point. It’s much healthier here.”

“And boring-er.”

The door bangs shut behind him.

“That’s not a word.”

“It should be. At least up here.”

He doesn’t look amused and instead walks over to small desk in the corner and shuffles some papers.

You take a look around and blink in surprise. It’s gorgeous. The granite fireplace is surrounded by hand-made wooden furniture and the high ceilings and large windows create a rustic and beautiful scene.

“You look shocked,” he chuckles from behind you.

“Oh,” you startle. “It’s just…it’s so beautiful. How did you do all this?”

He smiles again. “It took a lot of time and sawdust.”

You walk around, running your fingertips over the curves of the furniture and firing off the names of all the different woods it’s made of.

“How do you know so much about that?”

“I’ve taken enough pictures of furniture and asked enough questions to know most types of wood,” you explain.

“Well, now, isn’t that funny. City girls knows all about timber but is scared of the outdoors.”

“I never said that!” you grumble.

“I could see it all over your face when the hawk flew by! You look around like somethin’s gonna jump out and eat ya!”

You narrow your eyes and step closer to him. “That’s just not true. I’m not scared of the woods…I’m simply afraid of…of…certain large mammals that might enjoy life in the woods…you know rubbing up against trees, eating berries and honey and maybe an occasional human!”

“What in the world…?” Joel smirks.

“I’m afraid of bears!” you say as you sit on his couch and slump back.

He tries to stifle a laugh. “I’m guessin’ there’s a story hiding somewhere darlin’.”

“I’m guessing my grandmother is expecting me for dinner. I better get started on the pictures so I’m not late.”

You shuffle with your camera equipment until you’re satisfied then start snapping shots. You’re in the zone and hardly feel Joel’s eyes on you as you work. When you’re done you pack up and hold out your hand to him.

“It was nice to meet you Joel.”

Your hand is engulfed by warm, rough skin and so much strength. You peer up into his face and expect a snarky smile but instead you gasp softly at the winded look you find. He blinks slowly and he tightens his grip before tugging on your hand.

Your boots slide across the hard wood floor until your inches away from him and his gaze drops to your mouth.

Your knees buckle when Winston slams against your legs and wiggles his body between the two of you.

Joel sighs. “Damn dog.” But he leans down and affectionately rubs behind his ears.

Winston sits on your feet and presses his body weight against you, relishing the ear rubs.

“Winston,” you coo as you join in.

“Sorry about him. He’s a big fan of affection.”

You clear your throat. “Isn’t everyone?”

His eyes level with yours and you get caught in his gaze, a warmth spreading along your skin.

“I better get going. I’ll be sure to e-mail you the proofs of the pictures so you can be part of the selecting process.”

You fly out of the house and into the car, tearing down the dirt road then peeking in your rear-view mirror to see Joel standing out on his porch.

“I need a drink,” you mumble before turning toward the small town.

Joel runs a hand through his already disheveled hair after he pulls into the parking lot of the general store in town.

He knows a hot cup of coffee will help and one of those muffins that the owner’s wife bakes.

The general store has it all…coffee, muffins, dog biscuits, a new axe…and you.

There you are, smack dab in the middle of the aisle stocked with wine. You grab a bottle and round the corner toward the register.

The owner, Mark, chats you up as you check out.

“Celebrating something tonight miss?” Mark asks.

“Actually no, just visiting with my grandma but I needed a drink,” you explain to Mark.

“Not sure that’s somethin’ your grandma should be drinkin’.”

At the sound of that familiar deep voice you grit your teeth and turn to face him.

The look of indignation on your face almost makes Joel laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching with his suppression.

“Grandma loves her wine Mr. Miller. And she’s old enough to enjoy it!”

Joel can’t hold back any longer and lets out a bark of laughter.

“What’s so funny?”

He steps closer and gives you a once-over before taking a sip of his coffee and raising an eyebrow.

You want to stomp your feet. “I’m surprised you even have wine in this town!”

“It’s not the middle of nowhere. We have electricity, indoor plumbing and the internet! It’s all very modern.”

“Oh yeah sure it is,” you tease. “That explains the jars of penny candy then! And if that’s what you call coffee…well…”

You look to Mark standing at the cash register, “no offense Mark.”

“None taken,” the old man says kindly, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Thank you Mark. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go enjoy this with my grandmother!”

You grab your bag of wine and march out the door, this time feeling the heat of Joel’s stare at your back.

“Is there anywhere else you want to go before we head back Grandma?”

She smiles and asks you to take her to the general store to visit Mark and get some coffee, telling you it’s been ages since she’s been in to see him.

“Sure Grandma. I’d get coffee too but I think I’ll pass…”

Your Grandma chuckles and pats your knee, still smiling.

As you walk around the store and listen to your Grandma talking with Mark you can’t help it as your thoughts wander back to Joel and the undeniable heat you feel whenever you’re near him. When you make it to the register your Grandma and Mark are talking in hushed voices, glancing your way and looking suspicious as you get closer.

“What’s going on?”

Your Grandma looks at you knowingly. “Mark here was just telling me that you took the pictures of Joel’s cabin for your magazine.”

Your eyebrows come together. “But how did he know that?”

“Joel told me,” Mark explains. “Said you took fantastic pictures. Really captured the heart and soul of his place.”

You smile at that and your Grandma’s face brightens.

“He’s a good man. A bit gruff, but good. Better than most actually.”

You look at your Grandma, letting her words sink in as you become more confused. “You know Joel?”

“Everyone knows everyone ‘round here baby,” your Grandma says. “And when I tell you Joel’s one of the good ones you best believe it.”

“Why should it matter to me?” you ask as realization dawns on you.

Your Grandma and Mark share an entertained expression.

“OH NO!” you say, far too loudly. “No way! There is no way in hell I’m getting involved with a big, cranky, grumpy, Lab-owning, house building, bearded lumberjack who lives in the middle of nowhere!”

Both your Grandma and Mark smirk and glance over your shoulder.

“Hi Joel,” Mark says. Good to see you again.”

You narrow your eyes at Mark. “Funny. You expect me to believe that he’s standing behind me?” Just how naïve do you think I am!”

A low rumble in your ear raises every hair on your body.

You turn until Joel’s face comes into view, his beard, complete with patches of gray, only inches from your lips.

“For the record, I’m only grumpy when people trespass on my property.”

He smiles and places some dog biscuits down on the counter before walking off down another aisle.

Your Grandma cackles. “Oh he definitely likes you.”

Mark nods enthusiastically in agreement before you look between them both and stomp off in a different direction.

Unfortunately that direction takes you smack into the hard chest of your grumpy lumberjack.

“Oof,” you mutter, closing your eyes when his strong hands close around your waist.

“You ok darlin’? You were comin’ round that corner so fast I didn’t have time to move. Sorry.”

“I’m fine,” you whisper, slowly opening your eyes until your vision is filled with the soft brown color of his.

“And by the way,” he continues. “I might be slightly grumpy, a lab-owner and a builder but I ain’t no lumberjack.”

“Really,” you muse, still standing close enough that you can feel his chest brush yours with his inhale. “Let’s see,” you point at his flannel shirt. “Plaid shirt. Check! Axe? Saw you use one of those! Check! Beard,” and you glance at his chin, your fingers slowly lifting until your brush them over his cheek.

“Check.” The last one comes out breathy and light.

Joel chuckles, dipping his head until his warm breath fans your cheek and his lips brush the shell of your ear.

“What do you say to lettin’ me take ya out for a bite to eat? There’s a local dive that makes decent food and I think they even have wine.”

You pause, trying to steady your shallow breathing.

“Well, I guess that might be okay. Considering there’s wine…and Grandma says the college boys are really cute here in town.”

Joel frowns. “College boys? I don’t think college boys would know how to satisfy a sophisticated city woman like you.”

He strokes his callused fingers over your soft jaw. “I think you might need a real man for the job.”

You still beneath his touch, then let out a slow breath.

“What makes you think I’m looking for a real man? Maybe I’ve sworn off all men for a while.”

“I don’t think you have any idea what a real man can do for you darlin’.”

Your eyes linger on his mouth and he clears his throat, but his voice still comes out gravelly and strained.

“Lumberjack men don’t fool around. What you see is what you get. And when we see what we want…”

He stares at your lips, pouting and inviting. “We take it.”

Your lips part on a breathy gasp before you recover and sass him with, “but you said it yourself, you’re no lumberjack.”

He just smiles and waits, softly tracing the outline of your jaw.

You run your tongue over your lips and stare at him.

“Okay. You can take me out.”

He grabs your hand and turns on his heel, pulling you right past the register and out the door.

(Don’t worry, Grandma got a ride home and is safe and sound- neither Joel nor our reader would never leave her hanging).

@pedritosdarling @lorilane33 @hiddles-rose @blackwidownat2814 @justkinsey @littleseasiren @laineyreads @beccablogsthings @kmc1989 @hallecarey1

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #lumberjack!joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #lumberjack!joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller au #lumberjack au #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal

[braxlrose]

tons of hcs about dating/friendship tokio hotel - imagine your dating whoever you want to date :)

• georg goes to the gym a lot and gets all cocky when he notices you watching him doing push ups on the hotel floor.

• gustav licks your face like a dog when your mad at him to make you laugh.

• bill posts myspace pictures 24/7 and constantly takes pictures of you.

• bill takes you shopping all the time and loves buying you new clothes.

• tom does the same except he also gets you lingerie.

• tom makes you breakfast sandwiches in the morning and brings you breakfast in bed.

• georg loves doing your hair at night and in the morning.

• bill binge watches movie and TVs shows with you whenever he can and will eat all of the pop corn.

• gustav brought georg on your first date when you guys were 12 because he was scared to go alone on a date with a girl.

• tom used to throw mud at you as a kid bc he thought he was funny 😐.

• bill kisses your forehead every single night before you two go to bed even if you two had an argument.

• tom loves taking bathes with you and won't get out until his fingers are all pruney.

• gustav loves eating peanut butter and will sit on a counter just eating it out of the container with a spoon.

• georg kisses your shoulders when you're in a dress that shows them off. he really loves it if you have freckles on your shoulders too.

• tom takes bites out of tomatoes like they're apples and will chew really loudly to annoy you.

• tom gets flustered easily even though some people think he's just this cool, tough guy it's all an act.

• gustav does clay face masks with you every single night.

• bill likes to sleep naked next to you and run his fingers through your hair.

• bill paints your nails every day and everybody complains when you guys take out the nail polish remover because its so strong and smells so bad.

• georg loves bon fires so much and brings out marshmallows, chocolate, graham crackers and other stuff to roast over the fire.

• gustav washes your entire body for you in the shower so you don't have to because "this is what boyfriends are supposed to do".

• tom proposes to you every time he gets drunk.

• bill comes up behind you and scares you all the time because it'll always shriek because he's so tall and walks so quietly.

• gustav always holds your waist or your hand at parties so he doesn't lose you.

• gustav bakes you a cake on your birthday and decorates it himself.

• tom always takes you out to super fancy restaurants for dates, especially on holidays like Valentine's day.

• you, bill, tom, georg, and gustav have snow ball fights every winter and there's always someone complaining because the teams arent equal

• georg ties your shoe laces for you because it's "gentlemenly".

• georg kisses your "boo boos" whenever you get hurt. even if it's just a teeny tiny little scrape

• gustav learned most of his bad words from binge watching South Park

• bill bakes muffins for you. all different kinds, blueberry, lemon-poppyseed, plain, strawberry, etc.

• tom loves going kayaking with you.

• gustav loves being the big spoon when it comes to cuddling with you because he can hold you super close and tight. he especially loves doing it when it's super rainy out.

• tom loves it whenever you where his clothes to bed because they look so adorable and big on you.

• georg brings you out to arcade dates whenever you two want to do something more low maintenance

• gustav gives you big bear hugs.

• bill wraps his arms around you and rests his chin on your shoulder in the morning when you cook him breakfast.

I'll do more + NSFW hcs, I just thought I should post something bc I haven't in a while

taglist: @hearts4kaulitz @burntb4bydoll @bored0writer @fishinaband @billsleftnutt @tokiiohot @saumspam @5hyslv7 @memog1rl @80s-tingz @billybabeskaulitz @victryzvv9 @banshailey @nyxwritesshit

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[eileenslibrary]

Man Of The Hour

A/N: Just needed some fluff today so I wrote this, hope you enjoy 

Tiny Dragon! Zhongli x GN! Reader

Warnings: Only mentions of work stress and crying, Zhongli is a lil shit, fluff, me listening to Norah Jones too much.

Song: Man Of The Hour, by Norah Jones

GIF is not mine

“It’s him or me”

The two men stand in the doorway looking at you incredulously as the tiny dragon sits in your lap you look up at him “Neither I am happy now” you hum petting behind his ears as the dragon purrs like a cat.

That’s what he said

But I can’t choose between a vegan and a pothead

The two men scoff and leave your house the door slamming behind them the dragon curling his small tail around your wrist and letting out a big yawn.

So I choose you because you’re sweet

And you give me lots of lovin’ and you eat meat

“No more complicated meals for us huh?” you pick him up from under the shoulders and flop onto your back looking up at him, his little tongue stuck out of the side of his mouth you chuckle and pull him under your chin.

And that’s how you became 

My only man of the hour

The tiny dragon wiggles in your arms as the sunlight peaks into the curtains before dancing over your head “It’s not breakfast yet” you grumble grabbing the tiny cat serpent and tucking him into your arms.

You never lie

And you don’t cheat

He stands on his hindquarters as he watches you cut up the salmon you chuckle at the cuteness throwing him a piece for him to catch and eat.

And you don't have any baggage tied to your forefeet

You boop his little nose when you return home immediately falling onto the bed to say hi to your little dragon your work attire ruffled from a long day. “So quiet in here?” you hum picking him up and placing him on his pillow his tail swatting in excitement, watching as you switch into his favorite hoodie immediately slipping into the big pocket his head coming out one side, his cute butt out the other.

Do I deserve, to be the one, who will feed you breakfast, lunch,

And dinner and take you to the park at dawn

He peaks out of the top of your shirt as you meet with your friends downtown his forked tongue peaking out taking in the new smells, you feel his tail wag as he smells all the delicious food. You chuckle as you approach Wanmin restaurant sitting with your friends as they coo at the tiny dragon poking his head from your shirt, you all order and feed some of your noodles to the little one until he slips into a food coma.

Will you really be

My only man of the hour

You feel the tiny dragon climb up your pants with his tiny claws as you wait for your coffee to be done as you read the paper, he finds your lap and curls still sleepy, you stroke one of his horns making him purr in content as he naps on your lap.

I know you'll never bring me flowers

Flowers they will only die

You once again find a shiny rock on your bed waiting for you on your bedside table, They weren’t flowers but it was just as meaningful, you stash it in one of the drawers with the other knick nacks he brought you. 

And though you'll never take a shower together 

You put him in the bath with you as you rinse the grime off his scales making him pout as the mud falls from him “No rolling in mud Rex! It tracks mud into the house” you scold washing under his belly.

I know you'll never make me cry

You sink in front of the door sobs wracking your body from the hard day at work, Rex’s little head pops up from one of your boots yawning as he climbs out of it and walks over to you rubbing against your leg and getting your attention, you look up and peak at him before scooping him up into your arms sobbing into the soft scruff of his neck. 

You never argue

You swing him around at the soft jazz making you smile as he gives you an odd look, none of your significant others did this with you always breaking into an argument due to your “childish” nature. You kiss his snoot pulling him into your arms once again and cuddling him next to your heart.

You don't even talk

Even though he can’t talk he does make a bunch of ruckus as he ruffles in your sock drawer making you chase after him when he grabs one of your socks his tale wagging frantically as you try to corner him and grab the sock but he dashes between your feet. “Oh come here you little shit!” you huff chasing after him as he climbs up the towel holder, you finally grab him and gently yank the soaking sock from his mouth making sure not to hurt him.

And I like the way you let me lead you

When we go outside and walk

You bought a chicken harness so you could take him out on walks as you stroll down the harbor the gold collar that has REX in bold red lettering. He leads you down the harbor and sits on the dock you sit next to him and swing your legs over the edge your socks and shoes to the side as you dip your toes watching the fish swim by.

Will you really be

My only man of the hour?

He was glad you dumped those pea brains and lived this nice life with your cute dragon, maybe someday you’ll catch him in his human form and he’ll tell you his true feelings for you, maybe he’ll finally swing you around the living room, bring you flowers, and finally share a shower with you.

My only man of the hour.

My only man of the hour.

#fluff #zhongli x you #genshin zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli #genshin liyue #genshin impact #norah jones

[luveline]

Hi! Could you please write a daddy-daughter day with Roan and Eddie? Like Eddie and Roan listening to Eddie's music, going to Wayne's, and just doing cute things like when Reader went out with her friends please?

hi sweetheart yes I can, I loved this idea, tyty! dad!eddie x fem!reader, 3k (cw reader is tipsy at the end)

"Okie-smokie," you say, standing at the door with two options. "Ro, pink or silver?" 

You show Roan your earrings. Eddie crams his foot into his sneaker and ties the laces, listening as Roan deliberates your two choices. "I think you should wear the pink ones because you have pink gems on your bracelet." 

He can hear your smile. "I think so too. Thank you, lovely girl." 

"Roan, you have your shoes on still?" Eddie asks, toeing into his second shoe. He stands tall when he's done and brushes down his jeans. "Coat?" 

"I don't know where my coat is," she says. 

"I'll get it," you say. "It's in our room." 

"Okay. You have your purse?" Eddie asks. 

You laugh as you run up the stairs. "Stop doing your dad checklist! We have everything." 

Roan waits by the door in what Eddie believes to be her nicest outfit ever. He's been experimenting with elaborate hairstyles, and this one takes the cake. 

He'd woken her up early for a shower and washed her hair, some tactile bonding to start what's looking to be a great day. She'd nearly fallen back asleep, and again when he was drying it with the cold diffuser. After that he sectioned it and pulled two triangular sections from the front backward, and with the help of four rubber bands and a little bit of hair mousse, he secured it out of her face, curled and pretty. 

She's wearing a short-sleeved white t-shirt under stiff black dungarees with black sneakers. You suggested white sneakers, but Eddie joked that he wouldn't make her look too perfect (her white sneakers are full of mud from when they went looking for frogs last weekend, and he hasn't told you yet). 

"Hey, can you get her, uh, her blue jacket? The navy one? I think her vinyl coat will be too uncomfortable with the short sleeves." 

You appear on the top step already holding it. "I'm psychic." 

Once Roan has been helped into her coat and Eddie's made sure you both have money and water, he locks the door to your (his) house with his key. It took him a long time to start calling it his house. Not that he ever thought you'd shoot him out of it. So far, there hasn't been a day since you got together where he worried it wouldn't last. 

And here the kissing begins. 

You might pretend otherwise, but Eddie knows you're jealous of today. Not in a cruel way, the envy isn't eating you alive or anything, but he knows you wishes you could come, and he also knows you know that's not how these kinds of days work. If you're with them, Eddie would have to share his attention. Alone with Roan, he can pour it all in. You're not so codependent as to resent that, and you're happy for them. But again, you're jealous. 

"Why did I make plans?" you ask him, your hands bunched in his t-shirt. 

"Because you'll have fun," he says, dipping his head down to kiss you. 

You smile and lift one shoulder. "I will. You have fun too, okay?" You bend at the waist to kiss Roan's cheek. After a moment, you kiss the other. "My big girl, you look so grown up today, we should've taken more photos." 

"I think ten was enough," Roan says.

"It wasn't," you and Eddie say at the same time. You sigh morosely, though it's not entirely genuine. 

"Okay, I love you both. Say hi to Uncle Wayne for me." 

"We love you," Eddie says. You pout and get in your car. You've parked behind him, so they stand waving at you as you leave. "She loves you so much," Eddie says to Roan. 

Roan shrugs her shoulders, pleased and trying to be humble about it. "Dad," she grumbles. 

He puts Roan in her car seat and they drive to Uncle Wayne's for lunch. It's not far, but it's enough to listen to Roan's tape, featuring her current favourite song, a nonsensical rock song called 'She Don't Use Jelly' by The Flaming Lips. It's not Eddie's taste but it's worth it just to listen to Roan shouting along to the song, her building excitement before she gets to sing, "He uses maaaa-gazines!" 

After that is Sheryl Crow. Eddie wants to switch the tape to something harder but Roan's already singing, and it's so funny to hear her sing 'All I Wanna Do' that he can't make himself change it. He rolls down the windows so she can feel the wind on her face and she dances in her seat, tripping over the words with gusto. 

Sheryl Crow is all your influence. As soon as the song ends he pops the tape and drives the car at a crawl. He's had Roan's favourite, and then yours, but now it's time for real music. He isn't raising no prep. 

Roan is more than used to rock music. She loves it most of the time, though her taste complicates as she ages. Eddie puts on a tape you made him painstakingly at Christmastime full of ripped live performances, the sort of music you can't find on CD yet. The very first song is 'Sad But True', Metallica live from Mexico, '93. Roan bobs her head up and down with the beat. Eddie literally could not be more proud, better when she pulls out her air guitar and challenges him on who's best. 

After almost crashing the car into the picnic bench on Wayne's front yard, Eddie pulls Roan out, and grins as she races up the steps to the door. She doesn't knock —Wayne's home is Eddie's home is her home. 

"Uncle Wayne!" she bellows. 

The smell of sausages and fried onions is inescapable. Eddie loves Wayne, and he loves his extra special hotdogs, but he can already sense the mess Roan's about to make. Ketchup stains have defeated half her wardrobe over the years. 

Wayne's turning from the stove with a huge grin. He wipes his hands on a rag and chucks it at the counter, bending down with his arms opening to catch Roan as she sprints at him. 

"Oh," he groans, "Hi, Roanie. Where have you been? I told your dad eleven thirty, and it's almost twelve." 

"We had to help Y/N find her nice pants," she says, wrapping her arms around Wayne's neck. 

Wayne gives her a grandfatherly squeeze, adoring but nonchalant. 

"We didn't have to help," Eddie says, "but she made breakfast, so it would've been mean to not help." 

"Still sounds like dad's fault," Wayne says. "Yeah?" 

"Yes," Roan says, turning in Wayne's arms to beam at her betrayed father. 

Wayne kisses her head and puts her down. He asks how you are, to which Eddie can answer honestly. You're good, and you're very happy lately making wedding arrangements even though you don't know what you're doing for lots of it. Roan is still torn on whether she wants to be the best man or the maid of honour. You'd been winning, until Eddie told her she could still wear a dress as best man. 

The hotdogs are ready for eating straight away. Unlike Eddie, Wayne is prepared for Roan's mess. He pins a bib around her that he's had since she was two with a rabbit on the front. It should've been trashed a while ago, but in a show of quiet love, Wayne scrubs it spotless every single time she wears it. The white background is still a bright white. 

They eat hot dogs and talk about nothing. Wayne and Eddie see each other every single day, but Wayne and Roan definitely don't. Now that she's getting older, there's been talks of consistent sleepovers. Eddie doesn't want Wayne to spend all week in work and then have her on the weekend because, while she is an absolute delight, Roan is also hard work, and especially on Fridays when she's tired. But Wayne wants to have her, and Roan loves him more than anything, so sooner or later Eddie's going to have to say yes. 

He won't lie, he could use the break. But not tonight. 

"Dad," Roan says, fried onions and bread falling down her front and back onto her plate.

"Yes, my rude girl?" 

She licks her lips. Wayne tilts her head back to wipe her mouth clean with a paper towel. "Thank you, Uncle Wayne. Dad, can we get a movie tonight?" 

"Yeah, babe, we can get a movie, but I thought you wanted to go to the Hawk?" 

"There's no space for talking in the Hawk." 

"And you want to talk to me," he summarises. 

"Duh. Wayne, can I have more smustard, please?" she asks through chews. 

Wayne meets Eddie's eyes as he squirts mustard on her hotdog. It's a look Eddie didn't know he wanted to see until Wayne started giving it, a mixture of she's funny and you're raising a good one, kid. 

Eddie cleans up the hotdog mess before Wayne can stop him and they dawdle, not wanting to leave but with things to do. They're ten minutes late for their manicure appointments. 

The Hawkins manicurists are slightly judgemental middle-aged women who love Roan. They've seen her a couple of times, once when Eddie had been on a few dates with you but was far from your boyfriend, and Roan wanted, "Pretty nails, like Y/N," after she'd seen your painted nails for a wedding, and then a couple of times after with you, but it's been a while since he was here, and the new young nail technician surprises Eddie. 

"Hi," she says, smiling at Roan, "I know you, don't I? You and your mom came in a couple of weeks ago. How did your gems last?" 

"They came off when we went waterfall walking," Roan says, sounding exuberantly pleased by this. 

"Wow, waterfall walking, that sounds fun!"

"Yes!" 

Eddie grabs Roan under the armpits to help her into the tall chair. "It was fun until her wellies split. She had cold feet." 

"Oh no. What do we want today, miss adventurer? The same as last time, or are we trying something new?" 

Roan looks up at Eddie. He takes a seat beside her, her coat in his lap. "Whatever you want, Ro. No, um, extensions though." 

"No, I wouldn't suggest it," says the nail tech. "Maybe I can show you some pictures and you can see if you like something? I can do whatever you want me to." 

Roan ends up asking for nails that look like the ocean. The nail technician is an artist, creating a beautiful illusion of real water on her nails, and colourful sea creatures on the nails big enough to accommodate them. 

"Are you bringing your wife back soon?" the nail tech asks, covering Roan's skin with her hand as her nails cure under a UV lamp. 

"She's not married, yet," Roan says. 

"She's my fiancé," Eddie says mildly. He kind of liked wife better. "And she doesn't let me spoil her often, so probably not." 

"She couldn't stop talking about you," the nail tech says. "And you," —she nods at Roan— "I was kind of jealous. I'm still jealous. I hope my baby comes out as pretty as you." 

"You're having a baby?" Roan asks, gasping, almost knocking over the UV lamp. 

"I am! Yeah, I am, she's not coming anytime soon though. But by Christmas I'll have her." The nail tech brings a buffing file to Roan's pinky finger and sands against the edge gently. "She better be as nice as you, miss adventurer." 

"I think Ro might be one of a kind," Eddie says. 

Roan smiles at him as though he's hung the moon. 

They visit the video store after the nail salon, hand in hand. Roan is more than ecstatic at the aquarium on her nails, and it's making her sweet. She walks as close to Eddie as she can without stepping on his shoes, and doesn't let go for anything. Or, almost anything. 

"Steve!" she shouts when she sees him, Harrington himself bent over the kids aisle arranging movies. 

"Oh, no," he groans. Roan runs full pelt at him and he pretends to almost fall over. Roan laughs and tugs him back up, and he says thank you with a short hug. "Hi, Roan." He looks up to see Eddie, and glares with a mock disdain. "You. Where's my spirit level?" 

"Your–" Eddie's lips part, and then snap shut. "My bad, Stevie. I still have it, I swear."

"Well give it back, I want to mount my new TV on the wall and I can't because you never answer the phone." 

"I do," Eddie protests. 

"No, you don't, I think I've spoken more to Y/N since you moved in with her than I've spoken to you. Which, actually, I prefer her. And I want you to invite her to my housewarming party next week." 

"Am I invited, too?" Roan asks. 

Steve smiles at her, putting his hand on her shoulder. "Of course you are. Robin's going to bring Mr. Stink too." 

Mr. Stink is Robin's big fat tabby cat. Roan loves him so much she cries every time she has to say goodbye to him.

Eddie and Steve hug and only pat each other on the back once, which is progress. Having guessed why they're there, Steve pulls them into the backroom to show her all the new kids movies, and lets Roan pick as many as she wants to put on his account. Despite his hug and his party invitation, Of course you're invited too, Steve glares at Eddie fiercely from across the checkout counter. "Do not bring them back late, Munson. You cost me six dollars, last time." 

"And I tried to give it back to you," Eddie says, the bag of movies hanging from his elbow, Roan the other. 

"Don't insult me. Bye, my favourite Munson, make sure you bring me a nice drawing for my new fridge," Steve says. He speaks much more kindly to Roan than he does Eddie, but Eddie doesn't think for a moment that Steve doesn't like him. They've just always been like this. 

"Okay! Tell Robin I miss her, please, and Mr. Stinky." 

"Anything for you. Bye, bye," he calls. 

Eddie waves at him and they stroll out of the video store like kings, Eddie with all their movies and Roan with one of the huge bags of ready popped popcorn. She's walking on sunshine with every step, nearly skipping by the time they reach the car. 

He doesn't understand it. Eddie's just Eddie. He doesn't get it, but he has a moment when he's strapping her back into her third car seat, knowing one day she's gonna be so tall they can get away with a booster seat. One day she won't need a car seat at all. He just loves her so much he can’t handle it. 

"Show me those nails again, babe," he says. 

She pulls her wrist up, her fingers hanging down, and says, "Lookit." 

He loves her. She learned it from you. You'd done it as a joke, Roan does it because it makes her feel cool. 

"Gorgeous." He pulls her hands into his. "What else do you want to do today?" 

She shrugs. Eddie strokes down a crop of windblown baby hairs with a licked thumb, waiting for her to decide, but she must get distracted. She reaches out to do the same to him, moving his hair behind his ear. 

"That's for me," she says, looking at the little 'R' behind his ear. 

"Yeah, that's for you. I was going to get your full name, but I couldn't take the pain," he lies. 

Her nose wrinkles in amusement. "Then how did you get the big ones on your arms?" 

"I was less of a crybaby when I had those ones." 

"You're not a crybaby, dad," Roan says, giggling.

He pouts and sniffles at her. "You really mean that?" he asks tearfully. 

Roan pushes his shoulder lightly. 

"Did you decide what you want to do?" 

She nods vehemently. When she tells him what she wants, Eddie really could burst into tears. 

You're a little tiny bit tipsy when you come home that night. You try not to show it, but Eddie knows you better than he knows the back of his own hand, and as soon as you sit down he's taking big sniffs of you to make sure you know you've been found out. 

"Stop, you're like a puppy," you grumble fondly. "Wait, where's my Ro?" 

"Bathroom. Come here, let me take your shoes off." 

You lift a tired foot into his lap. "I had, uh, a margarita. And a cosmo, too. It was happy hour!" 

"Sweetheart, I couldn't care less what hour it was as long as you had fun." 

You preen, your face swinging into his shoulder. One of your earrings jabs his bicep. "Did you have a good day with Roan?" 

"We had a great day." He struggles to get your shoe off as you slide down his arm. "Maybe my favourite day with her I've ever had that wasn't with you." 

"Really? I'm so happy. Oh, wow, what? Nice nails, handsome." 

You pull his hands into your lap. They're painted in a uniform black, but there's a clownfish painted on his thumbnail. "They're super goth," you say. 

"You think so?" 

"The clownfish is a choice. Can I get one too?" 

Eddie kisses your flushed cheek. "Yeah, babe. The nail tech tried to get me to have a seahorse–" 

"Bit on the nose." 

"Exactly," he laughs. "Exactly. But our day was awesome. She was such an angel, and she must've made everyone smile everywhere we went, she–" Eddie sits up, speaking with pride in every word. "We went to Wayne's, and the nail salon, and the video store because she said the movies aren't good for talking and she wanted to talk to me, and I asked her if she wanted to do anything else, and she said," —Eddie squeezes your thigh— "she'd do anything as long as we could have a hug." 

"She has you in the palm of her hand," you laugh, looking up at him with eyes nearly closed. 

Roan skips into the room, hands dripping water, and catapults herself over the armrest back into Eddie's lap. Without asking, she dries her hands on his t-shirt. 

"Hello, princess," you say. 

Roan drags the half-eaten bag of popcorn over to your side. "Hi. I saved you some." 

You take a handful of popcorn and promptly spill it down the front of your shirt. Roan helps you by picking them off of you and eating them, cramming her mouth until her cheeks have chipmunked. 

"Don't do that, you'll choke," Eddie says.

"I won't," she says, little bits of popcorn spraying him. 

"Ro," he laughs, his hand held over her mouth, laughing so hard it wobbles her in his lap. 

#eddie and roan #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie munson x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4

[moorishflower]

A Fridge Full of Jam

Having a bad memory day today and so I wrote it out w/Dream

Sorry fav blorbo you get to experience the Horrors

He is walking back home from the park when he gets the text from Hob.

Cottage pie for din love

Could u pick up 1 large onion + sum garlic on way home? ta

Dream looks at the message. There is a corner market between where he currently stands, stock still on the kerb, and the New Inn, where Hob currently is. He could, quite reasonably, stop there and purchase the items that Hob has requested of him.

Another message comes through as he is contemplating.

Sum tomato paste too pls

I love you!

He finds himself smiling at this last text. Hob has had many, many years to perfect shorthand of all varieties, but he has never once shortened 'I love you.' It is always the full declamatory sentence, complete with full stop or exclamation. There is something heart-rendingly lovely about it.

Dream stops at the corner market on his way back. Hob has furnished him with an identity of his own, now that he is human, complete with debit card, and money to make purchases, and a driver's license that he still hesitates to make use of.

(He once knew how to operate a car in theory, but that, along with billions of years' worth of other knowledge, is one of the things lost to him now that he is human.)

The market is not busy this time of day. Summer has come upon London, blanketing the great city in a smog of humidity and incipient rain. It is the sort of weather to drive most people indoors, where they might at least seek the relief of a fan, but Dream is not bothered. He is cold, almost always, and it is during weather such as this that he is allowed the luxury of short sleeves. During weather like this, he takes long walks in solitude, and goes to the park to feed the birds, and sometimes there are other travelers to accompany him, but more often than not he is alone.

He prefers that, some days. The crush of humanity is not nearly so pressing now that he no longer contains all of its dreams and nightmares within his own head, but it is sometimes, still, overwhelming.

Dream checks his phone. One large onion, garlic, and tomato paste. Is there anything else that they need while he is here? Strawberry jam, perhaps. He eats it on his toast each morning, so they are bound to be almost out. There is a specific garlic-parmesan salad dressing that Hob likes, and which this market happens to carry. He picks up a bottle and puts it in his basket, along with a jar of jam. Do they have crisps at home? He thinks they do, but is it the sort that he likes, or is it the sort that Hob likes? Hob prefers sharp flavours. Tomato. Salt and cider vinegar. Dream enjoys simple fare. He picks up a bag of Walkers 'roast chicken' crisps and studies it, then drops it into the bag.

He moves down the aisle.

The clouds have broken by the time he leaves the market, though not for the better. Rain patters in the gutters, dampens his hair and sticks it to his skull as Dream hurries home, a shopping bag in each hand. The New Inn is not far, but it is far enough that he is wet through when he ascends the steps to its front door, stamping his feet to knock loose any mud or debris that might cling to his boots.

"Welcome to the–oh, hullo, Dream," the hostess says. She is a petite, smart young woman named Anne. Once, he would have known her greatest fantasies. Now Dream knows that she attends university at King's, and that she had Hob for one of her professors last term, and that she is somewhere in her early twenties...and that is all. "Out doing a bit of shopping?"

"Hob is making cottage pie," he tells her. She smiles. Hob's employees – they are not technically his employees, but they all refer to themselves as such – observe his relationship with the Inn's proprietor as though they are a much-beloved television show. It is strange, to be the subject of a story in which his own opinion is entirely unwanted.

"Enjoy," Anne says, and Dream nods at her, and ascends the stairs to the second floor, which Hob has claimed as his own. The front door is unlocked, and so Dream lets himself in.

"That you, love?" he hears, floating from the kitchen. Dream follows the sound of it, stopping in the doorway. Hob is there, standing over the stovetop, a pot of water boiling and the pale, oblong shapes of several peeled potatoes bobbing about within. When he looks up, he smiles. "'Course it is, you never answer right away."

"I will endeavor to do so in future," Dream says. He sets the bags on the table and begins to unpack them, laying the items he purchased in a neat row so that he may put them away with utmost expedience. Hob temporarily disengages from the stovetop to look over his shoulder.

"Jam?" he asks, reaching around Dream's hip in order pick up the jar. "We've already got jam."

Dream peers at it. He uses it so often. Every day. He tries to think of how much had been in the jar when he had taken it out of the fridge that morning, but draws a blank. "But...I eat it every day," he says. His voice, even to his own ears, has the unpleasant texture of a whine. Plaintive. Hob takes him by the hand and leads him to the fridge.

"See?" he says, and there, in the fridge door, is not only one, but two jars of strawberry jam. One is not even opened. "Remember? You bought more a week ago."

He does not remember. It had happened a week ago. Dream stares at the jars. His hands feel very loose; he is suddenly glad that it is Hob who is holding the new (the third) jar, because he thinks if it were him he would have dropped it by now.

"I...forgot," he says. In that moment, in the aisle, it had seemed impossible that they should have enough. He uses it every day. It had not even crossed his mind that he might have already bought some earlier.

"Hey," Hob says. "Come here. It's all right, yeah? We'll find a recipe to use jam. It's fine." He puts the jar down on the counter, and Dream finds himself being drawn into a hug. The kitchen is steam-warm, and Hob smells like raw potatoes and fresh herbs. Dream presses his nose to the curve of Hob's neck and blinks back useless tears.

"I forgot," he says again. Hob runs a soothing palm up and down his spine.

"You know," Hob says, "I read something the NHS published a bit ago...about how depression affects memory? Basically, how prolonged periods of, ah, stress and anxiety can stunt how your brain makes new short term memories?"

Dream tries to tug away, but finds himself held fast. Hob's hand splays flat against the small of his back.

"It's all right," he says. "It is. You were...I mean, my memories of after Robyn died are like Swiss cheese. And you had all that great big Endlessness to rely on before, but now...it makes sense, is all I'm saying. And it's all right."

Dream makes a sound – he is not wholly certain it is a dignified sound, nor good-tempered – and this time does not try to pull away, but buries his face into Hob's clavicle.

"How do you stand it?" he asks. He means the wild swing of moods. He means the instability. He means the being human of it all. But there is no easy answer to any of these questions. The shortest, of course, is 'you just do.'

"Lists help," Hob says. "Alarms. Things like that. And sometimes you just roll with the punches." He sways to the side, hooking his fingers around the jar of strawberry jam and making room for it in the fridge door. "Sometimes you've got three jars of jam."

(Later, when they are eating their cottage pie sans tomato paste, because Dream had remembered he liked roast chicken crisps but not the final thing that Hob had asked of him, he will try to reflect on the wisdom of this. Love, he will think, is an unlocked front door, a sentence with a full stop, and a fridge full of jam.)

#dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream/hob #dream of the endless/hob gadling #the sandman #retired dream of the endless #my fic

[deliciousangelfestival]

Tears In His Ferrari || Chp 4 - B.Barnes

Character: Bucky Barnes x Farmer!Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes, used to a life of luxury, takes on farm challenges in a bet with his father. Mud-stained Ferraris and a rustic farmhouse lead to unexpected personal growth, guided by the stern mentorship of Y/N, a farmer making his city-boy life difficult.

Theme: Fluff, Slice of Life, Heart-Warming.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

Chapters: Chp 1, Chp 2, Chp 3 , Chp 4 , Chp 5 , Chp 6 , Chp 7 ,Chp 8 , Chp 9 ,-

Bucky continued his day, the camera capturing every step of his farm journey. "Hey, everyone! It's Bucky Barnes, and today, we're diving into the thrilling world of farm life," he exclaimed to the camera, showcasing the vast expanse of the fields and the tractor humming in the background. He shifted the camera to reveal the small puppy nestled in his lap, earning an "Aww" from his audience.

As Bucky planted the barley seeds meticulously, he shared insights about the process and his challenges. The puppy, seemingly entranced by the rustling leaves and the tractor's rhythmic hum, added charm to the vlog.

With the barley seeds successfully sown, Bucky moved on to the next task—planting potatoes. He mused to the camera, "Now, this is where having an extra pair of hands would really come in handy. Note to self: consider hiring farm help if I ever figure out how to get my bank account back."

The puppy, content in Bucky's lap, became a recurring star in the vlog, eliciting heartwarming comments from viewers. Bucky couldn't help but smile at the positive reactions and the genuine interest his audience showed in his newfound farm companion.

When lunchtime arrived, Bucky parked the tractor and headed home, pondering what to eat. The realization hit him—he couldn't cook. The luxury of having meals prepared or ordering takeout was a distant memory.

Bucky sighed, acknowledging the need to learn basic cooking skills to survive this farm adventure. He decided to keep things simple for now, opting for something that required minimal culinary finesse. 

To his surprise, Bucky entered his house, and Y/N's horse was standing near the entrance gate. He couldn't help but chuckle at the unexpected sight, wondering if the horse had decided to be the official guardian of his newfound home.

As he stepped inside, the aroma of home-cooked food wafted through the air. Samantha, Y/N’s mother, placed a food container on his kitchen counter. She greeted him warmly. Bucky, still holding the camera for his vlog, smiled appreciatively.

"Hey, Bucky! We thought you might need a little help in the food department," Samantha said with a friendly tone.

Bucky chuckled, feeling a twinge of guilt. "I appreciate it, but I don't want to be a burden, getting free food all the time."

Samantha waved off his concern. "Oh, don't you worry about that. Your father has taken care of everything. It's the least we can do to help out a neighbor."

Bucky nodded, grateful for the kindness shown by his unexpected neighbors. The support from Y/N's family was becoming a comforting constant in his journey into the unknown world of farming.

Samantha continued, "You're part of this community now, Bucky. We look out for each other. Consider it a warm welcome."

With a sincere smile, Bucky thanked Samantha and decided to capture this heartwarming moment for his vlog.

But Bucky couldn't help but feel embarrassed as Samantha mentioned that his father had taken care of everything. The realization that his father had prepared not only the essentials for him but also arranged for the delicious meals brought a mix of gratitude and a hint of embarrassment.

Bucky gently put the puppy down, who had already awakened from its peaceful slumber. The little furball seemed to be adjusting well to its new surroundings.

With thoughts of taking the puppy to town for essentials and a check-up, Bucky shared his appreciation for the meal. "These are delicious. If I ever own a restaurant, I'd hire you as the chef," he complimented Samantha.

Samantha giggled at the compliment, but then she dropped a surprising revelation. "Thank you, but it wasn't me who made it. It was my daughter Y/N."

Bucky, mid-bite, raised his eyebrows in astonishment. He hadn't expected Y/N to be the culinary mastermind behind the delectable dishes. The realization caught him off guard, and for a moment, he found himself slightly choked on his food, a mixture of surprise and admiration written across his face.

As Y/N entered with a bag of dog food and a small mattress, effortlessly juggling both items, Bucky couldn't help but be impressed by her multitasking skills. She seemed to carry the weight of responsibility effortlessly, efficiently handling practical tasks.

Curious about the puppy, Y/N inquired, "Where's the dog?" Bucky pointed towards the little furball resting under the table.

Y/N gently picked up the puppy and efficiently settled it on the provided mattress. She then gave the dog milk, showcasing a caring side that caught Bucky off guard.

Observing Y/N's nurturing actions, Bucky couldn't help but appreciate her help. Despite her annoyance at being involved in his farming endeavor, she proved genuinely helpful and caring. However, the pleasant atmosphere turned unexpectedly when Y/N dropped the bomb, "Eat quickly, it looks like it's going to rain."

The news of impending rain dampened Bucky's bright mood. The unpredictable weather added a layer of challenge to his farming adventure, and the reality of rural life began to set in.

As Y/N predicted, the rain arrived, interrupting Bucky's progress on planting the crop seeds. Despite not completing the task, he found solace in the fact that the barley seeds he had managed to plant earlier would benefit from the rain, ensuring faster growth.

Feeling a sense of accomplishment, Bucky returned home to refresh himself. The puppy beside him provided a comforting companionship, making him feel less isolated in this rural setting. The soothing sound of rain outside created a calming ambiance.

Embracing the opportunity presented by the weather, Bucky delved into editing the video he had recorded throughout the day. The rhythmic patter of raindrops against the window accompanied his creative process, adding tranquility to the cozy farmhouse atmosphere.

******

The next day, Bucky felt a sense of ease as the rain had ceased, and the sunrise painted the sky. He savored a homemade breakfast of bread topped with butter, mozzarella cheese, and cherry tomatoes—an extra layer of enjoyment derived from the satisfaction of preparing it himself.

His newfound companion, Archie (he gave the name last night), the adorable male puppy, happily wagged his tail as Bucky set down a bowl of milk, cooing at the joyful scene.

Interrupting this peaceful morning, a knock echoed through the farmhouse, prompting Bucky to open the door and discover who awaited on the other side.

‘Knock, knock!’

Bucky opened the door to find a teenager holding a box. The young lad greeted Bucky warmly and extended the box filled with honey.

“Hi, I'm Tobey. I live with my grandparents, and Grandma asked me to bring these to you,” he explained.

Bucky gratefully accepted the gift, acknowledging the teenager's kindness and his grandparents' thoughtfulness.

As the exchange unfolded, a distinctive sound caught their attention—Archie, the puppy, chimed in with an enthusiastic "woof," adding a touch of canine charm to the moment.

Having finished his milk, Archie toddled over to Bucky with his tiny legs.

Bucky bent down, patting Archie gently. "Hey, Archie."

Tobey observed Archie with curiosity. "He looks..."

Setting down the box, Bucky scooped up the puppy and presented him to Tobey. "His name is Archie. I'm grateful I found him on my terrace. His cuteness made me forget my exhausting day."

Tobey's eyes welled with emotion, and Bucky quickly realized that the box he had brought was likely the same one Archie had been placed in.

"I'm sorry," Tobey admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "My grandparents only allow me to have one dog."

Tobey lowered his gaze, speaking softly, "When Archie's mother gave birth, he was the weakest among his siblings. No one wanted to take him."

Bucky questioned, "Why me?"

Tobey scratched his head, explaining, "Because I saw your car. I thought, this person must be rich. I can't afford to have another dog."

As Bucky looked at the teenager, he reflected on his life, where money was never a problem. Toby, on the other hand, had to let go of something he cherished. Bucky reassured him, "It's okay. I consider Archie as part of my family now."

Tobey visibly relaxed. "Thank you, and I'm sorry."

Bucky shook his head. "It's alright."

He allowed Toby to play with Archie whenever he wanted, realizing that it was a win-win situation for both Archie and Toby.

Then Bucky asked, "Do you know how to drive a tractor?"

Toby replied confidently, "Of course. Everyone around my age can drive it."

Bucky was pleasantly surprised. He then offered Toby a job, promising to pay him for assistance. With that, Bucky found someone to help him with the farm work.

Bucky's progress in planting the seeds had become significantly faster with Toby's help. With his easygoing personality, Toby became a popular addition to the video vlogs Bucky regularly created for his followers. Viewers liked the dynamic between the two, and Toby's presence brought a fresh energy to the content.

One day, as Bucky and Toby took a break, Y/N arrived with sandwiches and iced tea. In addition to the refreshments, she handed Bucky a weathered journal book that had once belonged to the farm's former owner. Y/N explained that it was a farm journal, a crucial resource for anyone working the land.

"By the way," Y/N added casually, her eyes fixed on her phone, "you've got cow, lamb, and chicken coming in. They'll be here in two hours."

With that information dropped, she swiftly left again, leaving Bucky and Toby slightly stunned. Bucky, who had just finished planting all the crops, now found himself unprepared for the arrival of livestock.

Bucky grumbled to himself, "What a cold woman."

But Toby interjected, "Y/N is really kind, you know? She's helped my grandparents a few times. She even drove them to the hospital when they needed it. That's why I'm saving up money to buy a car."

Bucky felt a twinge in his heart hearing about Y/N's selflessness. He gave Toby a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "You're a good grandson, looking out for your family like that. If there's anything I can do to help, let me know."

As they continued their conversation, Bucky realized there was more to Y/N than he initially perceived. Her kindness extended beyond the farm and, apparently, reached out to the broader community. Bucky found himself intrigued, and perhaps a bit curious, about the woman who seemed to be more than just a neighbor.

As Bucky flipped through the pages of the journal, he couldn't help but wonder about its history. The name "Jonathan L/N" caught his eye on the first page.

Toby, munching on his sandwich beside Bucky, also glanced at the page. "My grandfather mentioned that this land used to be owned by Y/N's great-great-grandfather."

The realization hit Bucky like a ton of bricks. The farm he was now cultivating once belonged to Y/N's family. Suddenly, her distant demeanor and occasional coldness toward him made sense. The land held sentimental value, and Bucky was now the outsider entrusted with its care. It was a responsibility he hadn't fully grasped until that moment.

Chapters: Chp 1, Chp 2, Chp 3 , Chp 4 , Chp 5 , Chp 6 , Chp 7

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Author Note: Hey everyone! 🌟 Your input means the world to me.

If you've got any cool ideas or prompts, whether for this fluff series or any other series, feel free to share them with me!

Just drop them in my ASK/SEND REQUEST box.

Can't wait to hear your awesome suggestions! 🚀💬

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes au #james bucky buchanan barnes #buckybarnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky #bucky fanfic #bucky x you

[grandwretch]

only i must wander

[chapter one] [on AO3]

In the months before Steve's graduation, he and Dustin had something of a routine going on. Every Friday afternoon, Steve would pick Dustin up from Hawkins Middle School and they would drive out to the McDonald's one exit over. They even ordered the same thing every week: A Big Mac for Steve, nuggets for Dustin, two Cokes, and a supersized fry. After driving slowly back to Hawkins they would eat in the arcade parking lot, and when they were done they would either spend the rest of the afternoon trying to kill each other over air hockey or renting shitty science fiction movies. Whichever Dustin wanted, really. 

It wasn't anything like Steve's life had been just six months ago, but he loved every second of it. Even when Dustin was getting mud all over his upholstery and asking too many questions. 

On that particular Friday night, Steve had been late picking Dustin up because Mrs. O'Donnell had stopped him in the hallway on the way out, for the third time this month. Some bullshit about him not "applying" himself, or whatever, and how she didn't "feel it was right" that Steve had passed her class when he'd obviously learned so little. Which was bullshit, Steve thought, because she taught fucking English, which he already spoke, and he'd been pulling solid C's in her class all semester. 

So most of the conversation had been about that, really, with Steve complaining about how every teacher he'd ever had hated him, and Dustin scolding him just as fiercely as any teacher ever had. A typical Friday night. 

Tonight, however, Dustin paused, mid-sentence.

"Are you ever going to tell me why your eyes do that when you're mad?" 

Steve paused, a french fry halfway to his mouth. He looked over at Dustin, who was staring at him from the passenger seat. He was almost used to it, a kid spending every day in the seat next to him instead of Nancy or Tommy, but big, curious eyes still threw him off from time to time. Especially when they came paired with off the wall questions like this. 

"Why do my eyes do what, Dustin?" 

"You know," Dustin said, gesturing to Steve's face with his burger. "When you get mad they go all black and stuff. Kinda like El's do when she uses her powers, but you don't--" Steve had never seen Eleven actually fight, but he had seen her do small tricks now and again for the boys. Her eyes were more like pits, her entire face wrinkling around the deep depths. Steve felt his stomach churn just thinking about the same in his own face. 

The reflection in the rearview mirror was the same as it had always been. Hazel eyes, smooth skin marred only by a few moles. Steve made himself breathe. 

"I think I would know," Steve said, keeping his voice carefully steady. He was trying to be less bitchy around the kids, but sometimes they made it so goddamn hard. "--if my face looked like that. It probably-- It probably hurts, right?" 

"Not really," Dustin said, with enough conviction that it tore Steve's gaze away from his own reflection. "Anyway, it's not your face. It's just your eyes. Look, I don't know what kind of Wesen you are, man, but you can talk to me about it, whatever it is. You know I'm one, too, right?"

"A-- a what?" If this was another one of those weird fantasy novel things, he was going to finally strangle the little shit, he really was. 

"A Wesen," Dustin repeated, looking as confused as Steve felt. "Like-- like me and El."

'Like me and El,' Steve thought, turning the sentence around in his head. He was not equipped for this, Jesus. It had to be hard, growing up fighting monsters and stuff, and having one of your best friends be a weird ass superhero, but Steve hadn't expected Dustin to deal with it by playing pretend. He'd always been the most grounded in reality of the kids. It was why Steve could put up with him for more than a couple hours. 

"Buddy, maybe you should talk to your mom about this stuff," Steve said, slowly. "Or like Mrs. Byers or somebody." 

Dustin rolled his eyes, which Steve thought was pretty rich coming from someone sitting in his car and talking about made up words. "Oh my god, Steve. Look."

And then-- And then. 

Steve didn't know how to explain it. One moment, he was looking at Dustin, the kid he'd become absurdly attached to over the past semester, and then something shifted. In the next breath, Dustin was... different. Light brown hair had sprouted all over his face, smooth and straight and so unlike the curly mop still on top of his head. His nose had changed, the bridge gone flatter and wider, the end still hairless but now a deep dark brown, like a dog's. Underneath his nose, his lip was cleft, opened wide so Steve could see even more clearly the gap where Dustin's teeth should be. On either side of the cleft, whiskers sprouted, white and long. 

His eyes were the same, though. Dustin's eyes, staring out of a beaver's face. 

Two years ago, Steve would have screamed. He would have thrown things. He would have been out of the car in two seconds flat. His flight reflex had been recently shattered, though, and now all he could do was stare and try not to choose the other option-- fight. 

This was Dustin, Steve told every dark instinct swelling up in the back of his mind. This was his best friend. Not something that crawled out of the Upside Down, not something stalking through the night. His kid. 

Dustin blinked at him, with a silly smile on his inhuman face. "See?" 

Steve's hands gripped the steering wheel, fingernails digging into the leather. "Dustin, what the fuck is happening right now?" 

The smile faded on Dustin's face slowly. "Do you not-- Steve, come on. You've seen El do this like a thousand times." 

"She's El!" Steve said, his voice going higher with stress. He could feel his muscles start to shake with the effort of keeping himself in place. "She's got, like, powers and shit! She was born in a lab and experimented on! You're-- You're just Dustin!" 

"Okay, ouch," Dustin said. A pout began to form on his face. "Okay, yeah, El is special, but there are people who like her who are, like, normal Wesen you know?" 

"You keep saying that word." 

"You know, like--" Dustin gestured between them with-- Jesus fucking Christ, with a fucking paw. "You and me." 

Steve had to get out of the car. His heart was going so fast he could feel it in his ear drums, in the roof of his mouth. It took too long for his shaking hands to open the door, and by the time his feet hit the dirt, he could feel adrenaline churning his stomach. Behind him, he could hear Dustin calling his name, the passenger door opening, but it only spurred on Steve's desire to get away. 

He stumbled a few feet, his legs too weak to carry him far, until hands grabbed at his jacket. Steve whirled around, ready to fight-- Your kid! A smaller part of his brain screamed at him. --but Dustin was... Human again. 

"What the fuck, Dustin," Steve couldn't stop repeating. "What the fuck." 

"Steve," Dustin said, deadly serious. "Are you seriously telling me you've never met another Wesen before?" 

"Stop saying that." 

"What?" 

"Stop saying that I'm one of you! I'm not. I don't-- I'm normal. Stop saying that." 

Dustin's eyes were too understanding. Steve fucking hated it when he did shit like this, when he could just look at Steve and got him, because Steve barely understood why he did what he did, sometimes. How did this fucking kid always seem to know him? And if he could, why didn't anyone else ever manage? 

"Steve," Dustin said again, pitched low and calm like he was trying to soothe a rabid dog. Like Steve was a monster, crawling the junkyard, looking for blood. "Look at your eyes right now."

There was a compulsion in Steve's blood that would not let him look away any longer. He had to look, had to face his own reflection already knowing it would ruin him. Steve raised his eyes to the car window, and its distorted mirror image of his face. 

For a moment, Steve almost had hope. His face was not marked or pitted like El's, nor was it covered in fur like Dustin's. It was his nose, his skin, his moles, his mouth. The scars that littered his face in the last two years were faint, but still visible. Steve could still feel one of them in the corner of his upper lip. It was almost easy to miss, almost easy to chalk it all up to a bad joke. But then Steve met his own gaze, and all illusion was shattered. 

It was like a trick of the light; They were the same size and shape as Steve's own, lined with the same delicate eyelashes, but there was no mistaking the change. His eyes were black. Not the deep void that stared out of El's other face, no. At first they seemed dead and glassy, like a shark's, but the longer he stared, the more Steve became aware of something moving inside them, like smoke behind glass. 

Steve didn't feel his knees grow weak or his legs buckle underneath him. He barely felt it when he landed on the ground. One moment he was standing, and the next he was on the asphalt, staring up at Dustin. Dustin, who looked down at him with such a mixture of confusion and sorrow that Steve felt, bizarrely, like his change was more inhuman than all the fur and torn flesh in the world. 

"What the fuck," Steve said, his voice croaking in his throat. "What's happening to me? Dustin, what the fuck is happening to me?" 

"I don't know," Dustin said, and-- Embarassingly, Steve let out a thin noise of panic, because he was absolutely fucked if Dustin was admitting he didn't know something. "I mean, I have a theory, but..." Dustin cut himself off and looked around the parking lot. They were alone here, had chosen it specifically so they could laugh and play Dustin's tapes as loud as they wanted to, but he still scanned the area with more suspicion than Steve had seen out of him in months. It made Steve's instincts kick in, had him scrambling to his feet to put himself in between whatever danger Dustin suspected of the world around them. "We really shouldn't do this here." 

"Is this..." Steve swallowed, his hands shaking. "Is this Upside Down shit? Is it because of the tunnels? Did I-- Did I breathe too many spores in or something?" 

Dustin considered the idea for only half a moment before dismissing it with a shake of his head. "No, if this was a symptom, Will would have displayed the same ones while he was in the hospital last year. No, this has to be... Come on, Steve, let's go home. I promise, I'll tell you everything I know. Just not where people can hear us." 

"This is fucking insane," Steve muttered to himself, but he climbed back in the car, hands shaking. 

The ride to Steve's house was tense, neither of them speaking, although Steve could sense Dustin throwing him concerned looks the entire way. He usually hated when the kid did that, mostly because he didn't need a thirteen year old's concern, thank you so much, Dustin, but today it rankled Steve's nerves worse than ever. Everything in his body wanted to fight something, but the only enemy he could identify was inside his own head. Dustin's gaze on him only made it worse, made Steve so jumpy he imagined, several times, jumping from the moving car. 

Whatever was wrong with him, it didn't stop at his eyes. 

Steve stormed down his driveway and threw open his front door. Dustin scurried in after him as if afraid to be left behind, and Steve had a brief pang of guilt, but then he caught sight of himself in the long mirror that hung along the foyer and-- He turned away, swallowing bile. "Alright, kitchen," he said. "I need a fucking beer." 

They sat on either side of his mother's breakfast nook, the only place Steve ever ate alone. Steve had a beer, one of the last few he'd been nursing since his party days ran out. Dustin had a root beer in front of him, untouched. They stared at each other, unsure. 

It was time to be a fucking adult, Steve decided, and unstuck his tongue from the roof of his dry mouth. 

"What was that word you kept using?" he asked. 

"Wesen," Dustin answered, his mouth a grim line. "That's what I am. That's what El is. Or was? It's not really clear." 

"But it's what she was supposed to be," Steve said, and when Dustin nodded, he sucked in a breath. "And what I am." 

Dustin squirmed on his stool. "I think so." 

"So... So what the fuck is it?" Steve shook his head, confused by the very words coming out of his mouth. "Am I going to start growing fur? Or-- Or get all wrinkly or whatever, like El when she uses her powers?" 

"No, it's not--" Dustin paused, his face creased with the uncomfortable feeling of having no idea how to explain something. "I only know what my mom has told me, which isn't, like, a lot. But we're not like humans." 

"Yeah," Steve scoffed. "I got that." 

"What I mean is, we're part of the same community but we're not all the same. We probably have some stuff in common, but I don't know how much. I can't exactly go to the library to figure this stuff out." Dustin's voice held the long-suffering frustration of a child who'd been asking the same questions for a very long time, with no adult willing to answer. Steve was usually all for it, being the first to encourage the kids to say fuck adults and do it themselves, but he was still lost in a sea of information that made no fucking sense to him. 

"Can we just-- Explain it to me like I'm really stupid." 

"I want you to know that I'm not making a joke right now because I can tell you're in a really vulnerable place." 

"Thank you so much, Dustin." 

"You remember Star Wars, right?" Dustin asked. 

Steve's head tilted. "The movie you made me watch over Christmas break? With the laser swords? Yeah, I remember them." 

"Alright, so, everyone in that movie is an alien, right? Some of them look like humans, but they're not from Earth. And some of them don't look like humans at all. They're all from separate planets, some of them entirely separate species, but they're all aliens." 

Steve blinked at Dustin for a long moment before his face collapsed into disbelief. "We are not fucking aliens." 

Dustin's glare was legendary. "No, you idiot. But we're not human, either." 

"Then what am I?" Steve raised a hand to stop the answer he could already see coming. "And don't say Wes… That word. I can't just be not human. People aren't… whatever they're not. I have to be something." 

"I don't know," Dustin said. "I don't know a lot of the names. My mom is kinda…" 

Steve nodded. Mrs. Henderson's brand of flighty overprotectiveness was well known to the entire group, and probably most of Hawkins by now. Dustin was allowed to spend whatever time he wanted with Steve, even staying over at his house when Steve's parents were out of town, but Steve had also been horrified to find that Mrs. Henderson had woefully unprepared the kid for things like puberty or high school. Dustin said his mom didn't like to talk about things that upset her, and Steve guessed that other Wesen was one of those subjects, much like Dustin growing up or rock music. 

Steve felt himself begin to calm. Whatever happened, it was bound to be easier than the time he had to explain to Dustin what a pube was. 

"Do you think she might know?" 

"Probably, but we can't ask her." Dustin was beginning to look actually distressed. "There's no way she would let us hang out again." 

Steve's stomach sank. "Really?"

"When she found out the founder of the D&D club at Hawkins High was a Blutbad, she made me promise I would never join," Dustin said. Brightening, he continued, "Oh, wait, duh! Your parents have to know; They must be Wesen, too! Just ask them." 

Bradley Harrington's eyes had never gone black, Steve was pretty sure, though they had definitely been angry enough a time or two. He couldn't imagine his mother, Sophia, as anything less than human, either. They were both so… normal, although sometimes so damn keen on being completely on-trend that Steve suffocated with it. Half of the trouble Steve had gotten himself into over the years was more about calling too much attention to himself than legitimately bad behavior. Steve was sure they would be just as annoyed by having a genius like Dustin as a son as they were having an idiot like him. 

He tried to imagine what his father would say if Steve called just to tell them his eyes had changed color, and winced. 

"If they wanted me to know, they would have told me," Steve said, grimly. 

"Well, fuck," Dustin said, which Steve thought pretty much summed it up, yeah. 

After a moment of stewing in his own misery, Steve remembered to ask, "So what are you, then?" 

Dustin's chest puffed up with pride, and a ripple of fur sped across his face. "I'm an Eisbiber!"

"That means absolutely nothing to me, you gotta know that." 

"We're like beaver people, basically. Mom says it's impolite to compare people to animals but–" Dustin shrugged. "I call it like I see it. I'm a beaver. Lots of Wesen have animal attributes." 

"What, like a werewolf or something?" Steve asked, incredulous. 

"Those are Blutbads," Dustin confirmed. His voice dropped to a whisper. "But Mom says if you call a Blutbad a werewolf to their face, they'll eat you." 

Suddenly, Steve could only think of demodogs, their faces peeled open and saliva shining in the moonlight. All those fucking teeth. 

He nodded slowly. "I'll… keep that in mind." Shifting in his chair, Steve thought about the tight, inner group of the Party, and the way he hadn't really been a part of it before last fall. Even within their small group, there had always been an air of mystery about El and her origins. Even Nancy hadn't had many ideas, when Steve had gotten the courage to approach her about everything post-breakup, but if Dustin had known the whole time... "So how many people know about this stuff, then? Are Lucas and Mike like you? Is that why everything happened with Will that first time?" 

"I don't think Wesen are that common," Dustin said, "though that might just be a Hawkins thing? Like I said, it's hard to do research. Lucas and Mike don't know. I'm not sure how much Will knows, honestly." 

"But they know about El," Steve said, frowning. 

Dustin paused, looking guilty. "I know. That's the problem. Mike treats El like a superhero, and I'm not... Eisbibers aren't like Hexenbiests, especially superpowered ones made in labs. We mostly make things. I don't want him to think I'm... I mean. You know. It's bad enough, already, with the human shit." 

"Look, Mike and I have never gotten along, but I don't think he would do that. Whatever Wheeler is, a bully isn't one of them." Steve knew what a bully looked like. Scrawny, angry twelve years olds didn't make the list.

"Alright, so you tell them you're a--" Dustin paused. "A whatever, then." 

"I will," Steve said, "the second we can figure out what the fuck it is I'm supposed to be. What about Hop? I mean, how much would El have told him?" 

"Nothing about you." Dustin shrugged. "El was raised in a lab by humans, presumably. She didn't even know what she was. My mom had to tell Hop everything, and then made him promise me and El would never be allowed to hang out alone." 

Steve thought of angry little El, eyes painted to match her second face, who wanted to be with her friends so badly that she ran away to find her past. "I bet that Kali girl could have helped us." 

"Good luck finding her. I'm pretty sure she was half Musai," Dustin said. Steve wished he'd just stop saying shit like Steve was supposed to understand it. Being stupid about human stuff may be embarrassing, but he refused to be bullied for not knowing the names of every single race of a species he'd just realized he was a part of. 

"This is insane," Steve said. He slumped in his chair, and looked around his kitchen. It looked just like he'd left it this morning, the kind of half-cluttered that houses inevitably got when they were lived in by people who desperately didn't want to be there. Filled up with the necessities of life but abandoned just as quickly. Clean dishes haphazardly placed around the room and junk mail months old still piled on the counter. His bread box was empty, half a loaf of bread still sitting in its wrapper on top. 

It should be different, he decided. Not just his kitchen, but his entire world. That's how things had been when he'd seen the demogorgon in the Byers' house-- He'd realized things about the world in that moment that had changed everything. It was fast and violent, and the next morning he had looked at himself in the mirror and not recognized the kid looking back at him. It was the same for everything he'd ever loved, even the people, and while Steve had spent a lot of time looking back, he'd always known there was no resetting time before that moment. 

He was starting to think he'd preferred the violent realization to this slow roll of information. Now Steve was left with the knowledge that the world had already been just as it was, and Steve had just been unable to see it. Right under his nose. His parents, his best friend, his fucking kitchen... the same as it had always been. He'd just been looking at it the wrong way. 

That was a much harder pill to swallow. The demogorgon hadn't left Steve with much choice-- swallow or choke. Get it over with. Fight until you win. But how the fuck was Steve supposed to fight this? He felt helpless in a way he didn't often let himself be, disconnected from his body and vulnerable in the haze of his own thoughts. Like his soul was hanging raw and open in the space around him, and this part of him that was a living, breathing thing was left with no one home. 

"We're gonna figure it out," Dustin said. Steve blinked slowly and pulled his gaze back to the kid who'd just blown his worldview to smithereens. Dustin's face was pulled tight with determination, leftover baby fat bunching adorably in his cheeks. He looked like an angry chipmunk, Steve thought hysterically, and then corrected himself: An angry beaver. 

God, what the fuck had happened to his life? 

"I'm serious, Steve," Dustin said, when it became clear that Steve wasn't going to react outside of a foggy gaze. "We're gonna figure this out, okay? Me and you." 

"Yeah?" Steve said, the edge of a laugh in his voice. "We're gonna, what, hunt down what I am, what my parents are, completely on our own? You literally just said this shit was impossible to research." 

"We don't need that shit," Dustin said, scoffing. "When have we ever needed evidence? Or, like, adults?" 

Steve really wanted to protest that; As the older party and a practical adult himself, it was probably his job to insist on both evidence and adults for pretty much everything Dustin wanted to do, whether or not it involved fictional creatures that Steve may or may not be. The problem was, though, Dustin wasn't exactly... wrong. Hop and Joyce were the only adults that had ever been any help to either of them, and that was on a good day. Half the time they kinda just got in the way. Steve was pretty sure that if cops and doctors just listened to Nancy as much as they listened to the adults, they could have figured out most of this shit back in junior year. 

"Fuck, okay," Steve said, pushing his hands through his hair. "Sure. Goddamn it." 

"You are literally never allowed to tell me off for cussing again," Dustin said. He sounded unimpressed. 

"Sorry, is my breakdown upsetting you?" Steve shot back, but he felt his muscles unclench enough that it no longer felt painful to breathe. Dustin's snark was honestly calming, though Steve would rather die than ever admit it. Still, it was a good reminder that no matter how scared Steve was, things hadn't gotten so bad that Dustin had lost his particular brand of sarcastic zen. As much as the little shit loved to dig into the most dangerous curiosities he could find, he wasn't exactly the sort to smile calmly into the face of death, so... So whatever Steve was, he could deal with it. 

Probably. 

"I'm going to go home," Dustin said, jumping out of his seat. Ignoring Steve's small sound of protest, he continued, "and you're going to take a shower and then a nap. Tomorrow, once you've calmed down, we can do some tests." 

"Tests?" Steve repeated, his nose wrinkling. El had never really divulged what had gone on in the lab with him, but he knew just enough for his imagination to take over. He knew Dustin wasn't exactly the government experiment type, but he still hated the concept being applied to him. "See, this is exactly the kind of shit I didn't want to happen." 

"Tough shit," Dustin said, stomping his way out of the kitchen. Rolling his eyes, Steve followed. 

"Do you want a ride?" he asked, because he always did and, well... Whatever Dustin thought, Steve didn't exactly want to be alone right now. Also, he just found out there was a whole new kind of monster in this town, and every protective instinct in his body wasn't exactly jazzed about Dustin riding all the way home on his bike. "What about the B-- the Bad werewolves or whatever, you were talking about? You said one lived in Hawkins--" 

"Blutbad," Dustin corrected as he wedged his feet back into the shoes he'd previously abandoned next to Steve's front door. "And I think I'll be okay. I've existed in the same town as them for thirteen years and I haven't gotten eaten even once." 

"Not for lack of trying," Steve muttered under his breath, and then helped Dustin put his backpack on. Dustin let him, not complaining about being able to do it himself for once, and not for the first time Steve felt a small rush of affection for the kid. He knew not a lot of people understood why he and Dustin spent so much time together. Sure, sometimes the other kids were involved, Max and Lucas especially, but usually it was just Steve and Dustin. The other kids didn't really get it, and no matter what Dustin said, Steve wasn't sure they saw him as more than Dustin's big brother. As for Steve's old friends, well, Nancy had long stopped being impressed by Steve's ability to keep a kid alive for more than forty five minutes; She probably just thought it was pathetic now. Tommy sure gave him enough shit for it when Steve bothered to give him the time of day. God knew what Jonathan thought, outside of the stern nods they traded when Steve picked Will up for an arcade trip. 

They just didn't understand the warmth in Steve's chest when Dustin let him help with something stupid and small. It didn't matter if Dustin could do it on his own. That had never been the point. Helping the kid put on backpacks and jackets, fixing his hair, making sure his grilled cheeses were evenly toasted on both sides so the texture didn't turn his stomach-- No matter how much Steve bitched, he loved doing every little thing no one had ever done for him. 

"Listen, Steve," Dustin said, standing nervously in his doorway. "I want you to know that it doesn't matter." 

Steve dragged himself out of his sentimental reverie. "What?"

Dustin squirmed, face pinched with thought. "What kind of Wesen you are, it doesn't matter. I'm gonna help you because you want to know, and that's-- That's cool. You've got a right to know, just like El. But knowing didn't change El, and it's not going to change you. You'll still be Steve, and Steve's pretty great." 

Blinking, Steve couldn't respond for a moment. Finally, he managed to say, "Are you trying to pep talk me right now, Henderson?" 

Embarrassment flooded Dustin's face, creasing his brown and throwing blush across his cheeks. "Okay, fuck you, see you in the morning, douchebag." 

Laughing, Steve followed Dustin out the door and onto his front steps. "Hey, Dustin?" he called as he watched Dustin clamber onto his bicycle. Dustin looked up, eyes squinted in suspicion. "Thanks, man," Steve said, a blush rising in his own face. 

Dustin grinned. "Welcome to the club, asshole," he said, and then sped out of the Harringtons' driveway as fast as his little Gumby legs could carry him. God, Steve loved that kid.

Dustin kept his promise. He was there the next morning, before Steve's neighbors had even left for church, with a list of potential 'tests' to try out. None of them were the weird science experiments that Steve had been dreading. Most of them, in fact, were just Steve trying to flex muscles he shouldn't have. 

"Acid spit?" Steve read, incredulous. 

"That one's a far reach," Dustin admitted. Shifting through his backpack, Dustin pulled out item after item, and Steve lowered the list to look doubtfully at the large slingshot that now sat on his kitchen table. "But I didn't want to leave anything out." It wasn't a long list, Steve noted, and most of it was ridiculous. No matter what Dustin said, he was pretty sure he'd have noticed something like kisses that drugged people or the ability to lead rats around. 

Probably. 

"Fine," Steve said, giving up. "But we're not doing this shit outside where the neighbors can see. The last thing I need is another rumor going around about King Steve." 

"It's your house," Dustin said, shrugging, and threw the water balloon launcher over his shoulder.

To Steve's complete and utter lack of surprise, he did not have acid spit or any other set of superpowers. At Dustin's insistence, Steve ran across his backyard a few times, picked up some heavy things, caught a few launched tennis balls-- 

"I'm not playing anymore fetch," Steve decided, dropping the last of the tennis balls at Dustin's feet. 

Dustin glared up at him with all the tiny rage of a scientist disrespected in his field. At least, Steve imagined. He hadn't known too many non-evil scientists in his life. "I'm trying to determine if you have super strength or improved reflexes." 

"Oh, good," Steve said, and then flopped into his usual lawn chair. "I don't." 

"You picked up a grill," Dustin protested, but even he didn't sound convinced. 

"I was on three different sports teams for all four years of high school," Steve said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Dustin was only trying to help, and Steve knew he should be grateful. But once the panic had faded, all Steve was left with was this... irritation. Wasn't it enough that everything he'd ever known about his life had turned out to be a lie? One more lie on top of everything else turned out to be just one more pea under the princess' mattresses, and Steve was sick to death of vegetables in his bedding. "And I've been prepping to murder interdimensional monsters for the last two of 'em. Of fucking course I run fast and pick up heavy shit. It's, like, literally all I'm good at." 

"I give up," Dustin said, throwing his arms up. Paper floated down around them, escaping from Dustin's clipboard. "You're the most useless Wesen in the world! If I hadn't seen you woge myself, I'd think you were an Eisbiber!" 

"Jesus Christ, kid," Steve said, "Cool it on the beaver hate. Your mom's pretty cool." 

Dustin's glare was intense enough that even Steve knew it was time to shut up. They sat in silence for a moment, Steve placidly watching as Dustin squinted into the reflective light of the pool. Steve had no idea what Dustin was thinking, and didn't have enough context to guess. At this point, Steve was ready to chalk the whole thing up to a trick of the light and move on with his life. Eventually, though, Dustin shook himself out of it and sat on the other end of the lounger, close enough their knees bumped together. 

"Woge for me," Dustin demanded. Steve had learned enough that wogeing meant the change, the other 'face' that El and Dustin possessed. Dustin had talked about it at length that morning, talking about the difference reasons for it and how it might point to the truth of Steve's identity. None of the tests had worked, though, and Steve's eyes had stayed human. 

"I don't think it's the same thing for me, man," Steve said. When he saw Dustin about to protest, he rushed to continue. The last thing he needed was another Henderson rant about the scientific method or some other bullshit Steve wouldn't bother to remember. "I tried for hours to make it happen last night, just so I could make sure that it had actually happened. Besides, it's only my eyes-- And your thing is literally everything but your eyes. Those stay human."

"But El's don't." 

"El also looks like a literal diseased corpse when she changes," Steve said, tired. "Like we've said a million times, it's stupid to compare either of us to the girl literally created and then raised in a lab." 

Even Dustin couldn't argue with that logic, but it didn't phase him for long. "Fine, then we just need to replicate the last time you woged, so I can take notes of all the characteristics I may have missed the last time," he said, slipping back into the overly professional voice that Steve was almost certain he'd stolen from one of his doctors. 

Resisting the urge to groan, Steve frowned. "So, what, we have to go get in the car?" 

"Maybe, if it doesn't work here, but I don't think the place is really the important variable here," Dustin said, and Steve supposed it was a sign of how seriously Dustin was taking this if he didn't even pause to ruthlessly bully Steve for getting it wrong. "How did you feel the last time your eyes changed? What caused the feelings?" 

"Dustin, you were literally there," Steve sighed, but Dustin was already speaking over him before he could finish the sentence. 

"Yeah, but I'm not you! I don't know what instincts were happening in that big head of yours!" 

"I don't know, I was... upset?" Steve asked, and when Dustin rolled his eyes, he kicked at the kid's legs. "Hey! You're the one sounding like a fucking Hollywood therapist! What am I supposed to say? I just watched my best friend turn into a fucking beaver!" 

Dustin's eyes narrowed. "You think my woge triggered yours?" 

"I don't... know?" Steve leaned back in the chair, brow creasing as he tried to remember what had been going through his head before the panic of not recognizing his own reflection. The primal fear hung over every second of the memory now, but he knew that wasn't true. There had been adrenaline, yes, but Steve hadn't been scared of Dustin. His instincts had been more violent, almost angry. That had been what scared him, in the beginning. It hadn't been Dustin that sent him scrambling out of the car, but his own impulses. "When you changed, it made me... I thought I had to fight you." 

Dustin hummed under his breath. "Once, when we were in the city, Mom and I ran into this lizard guy in the hospital. He turned out to be really nice, but when Mom first saw him, she woged out of fear and he woged back-- I think it was probably some kind of predator-prey instinct. Maybe it's like that?" 

Steve felt a pit grow in his stomach. He didn't like the sound of that. "So, I'm like... A hunter?" 

"Unless you think you're the only natural prey of the North American beaver, yeah," Dustin said. 

Great, Steve thought, what a way to have every fucking bad thing anyone had ever thought about him confirmed in one fell swoop. Crossing his arms across his chest, he tried not to settle into a sulk. Pouting in front of the kid you were supposed to be a good influence for was embarrassing as hell, and probably even worse than being an instinct-driven murder machine. "Does that at least narrow it down?" 

Dustin made an unsure noise in the back of his throat, kicking his feet back and forth as he thought. "I mean, kinda. It means you're definitely not anything my mother will let me within five feet of, but we pretty much already knew that. The problem is that, as far as I know, most of the Wesen world is pretty dangerous. Even some of the prey animals are killers." 

"According to your mom," Steve said. He loved Claudia Henderson, he really did, but she thought her neighbor's Yorkie was two seconds from killing them all on a good day.

"According to my mom," Dustin agreed. "Look, let's just woge right now, and it'll confirm it." 

"You don't think that triggering my 'predator instincts' on purpose will be a bad idea?" Steve asked, shrinking in on himself. If he hurt Dustin over some stupid science experiment, he'd have to go ahead and drown himself in the pool. And he genuinely didn't think Dustin could take the extra trauma on top of everything else. 

"You'll be ready for it this time," Dustin said, and twisted around so they were face to face. 

'Ready' turned out to be mostly erroneous. There was no countdown, no time to prepare-- Their eyes met and then Dustin was changing. The fur, the nose, the cleft lip. It was all as Steve remembered it, all exactly as he'd played over and over again in his mind. Steve braced himself, waiting for the same rush of adrenaline, for the same muscle-clenching urge to fight. 

It never came. 

One moment passed, then another. Steve forced himself to breathe. "I'm not feeling any rodent murdering tendencies," he admitted, although he couldn't quite convince his shoulders to relax.

"Well," Dustin said, his tiny beaver face peering into Steve's. "Your eyes definitely changed. They're... Huh." 

"What?" Steve wanted to squirm under Dustin's gaze, uncomfortable with the very intense eye contact going on right now. Even though Dustin was looking at him, in his eyes, Steve didn't feel like he was being included in the interaction. If anything, it felt more like Dustin was watching something through him, and after all the multidimensional shit they'd been through, the last thing Steve wanted to think about was his eyes being a portal. "Come on, man, you're freaking me out." 

"They're reflective," Dustin said, his voice faraway with thought. 

"Yeah?" Steve said, confused. "So are everybody's."

"No, they're like mirrors. I can see myself completely. Every detail." Dustin's voice still sounded lost, and Steve swallowed down the sudden lump in his throat. 

"That's weird," he said, eventually, when Dustin had proven that he had forgotten to even blink. "Um, can this part be over now? I'm not great at eye contact on a good day." 

After a moment, Dustin shook himself, looking just as confused as Steve felt. "Yeah, sorry, man," he said, frowning down at his notepad. "I don't know what happened. Maybe your species is good at hypnosis? Some kind of snake, maybe?" 

"Do I look like a fucking snake to you, Dustin?" Steve said, gesturing to his smooth skin and fluffy hair. 

"No," Dustin admitted, "but we don't really have any proof your species has an animal counterpart, either. El doesn't. And before you say it--" Steve closed his mouth. "-- I'm not comparing you to El. I'm saying that whatever a Hexenbiest is supposed to be, I don't think it was originally like me. Maybe they're not the only ones." 

Honestly, Steve hated the idea of his powers being anything like El's. To put it mildly, El's powers were fucking terrifying. Not the girl herself; It had been impossible to be afraid of El after Steve had gotten to know the sweet little girl that hid behind all that trauma. He adored her, really. But her powers? Steve genuinely didn't know how El slept at night, because if it were him with all that responsibility, he'd probably just have a heart attack. The more power someone had, the more opportunities they had to fuck up. Steve was proof of that. Having as much power as El was his worst nightmare. And if Dustin was right, that Steve might be something like her... 

"We should tell Hop about this," Steve decided. Immediately, Dustin groaned. 

"Come on, Steve! Hopper isn't going to let us dig into this and you know it!" 

"Yeah, and maybe we shouldn't," Steve said. "I don't know anything about this shit, and my parents aren't talking. But if you're right, and I have the ability to hurt someone, then Hop needs to know about it." 

Dustin's face softened. "You-- It's not like that, Steve. You wouldn't--" 

"You don't know that." Steve was on his feet again, pacing the concrete that surrounded his pool. "We don't know anything, and you've seen what happens when El gets angry. And what happened to Will last year?" 

"That wasn't Wesen related," Dustin tried to reason, but Steve was already shaking his head. 

"That we know of," Steve said, "and I think we've proven that neither of us actually know a goddamn thing about this."

"... Fine. But I want it on the record that I think this is stupid, and you would never hurt anybody, Wesen or not." 

Steve rolled his eyes. "Your complaint has been recorded, and will be going directly into the trash. Do you have your walkie on you?" 

They went inside to collect Dustin's abandoned bag, his walkie still packed safely inside. They had given Hopper a Party-approved walkie the year before, when he decided that in case of emergency, relying on phones wasn't enough. Steve was pretty sure he'd given up on the Upside Down being a one-time thing, and making sure the kids weren't being eaten by monsters in the woods made everyone sleep better at night. They had a separate channel, though, for adult-included emergencies, because Hopper had threatened to arrest Mike for calling in a Code Orange over being out of toilet paper. 

Steve hesitated over the dial, for a moment, and wondered if discovering you weren't human was a Code Yellow or Orange. 

"It's not going to call itself," Dustin said, and Steve-- 

His eyes shut, all usual irritation at Dustin's annoyances drowned out by fear. Because he was so fucking afraid. Afraid of himself, yeah, but also a million other things. Like, how was he supposed to look Hopper in the eyes and admit what he was? Sure, Hop was okay with El, but El was a kid. His kid. Steve wasn't sure if he'd have taken the beaver thing half as well from anyone but Dustin. Wasn't sure he would now, even, and he was fucking one of them. Would Hop think he was a monster? 

Even worse, would Hop believe him when Steve said he was something to be feared? Steve wasn't sure if he hoped Hop would, or if he dreaded it. 

"Can you wait outside?" Steve asked, his voice shaking. He could already see Dustin gearing up for an epic bitch fit, so he quickly continued, "Just for a second. I swear, you can come with me. I can't do this shit without you, man." 

The admission made Dustin quiet. With shock or with mollification, Steve didn't know, but whatever it inspired in Dustin was enough to have him nodding and walking out the door. 

Steve turned the walkie to Hop's channel, and held the button down. "Chief, are you there?" 

There was a moment of quiet, and Steve thought- hoped? -that Hopper didn't hear him, that he might be busy or at work or maybe he'd thrown the stupid thing in a drawer somewhere, but eventually the speaker crackled to life. The chief's voice poured out, "That you, Harrington?" 

"Yeah," Steve said, the vowels coming out reedy in the tightness of his throat. "Yeah, it's me. Um... I got a... A Code Orange? Or maybe a Yellow." 

"I can never remember that stupid fucking system," Hopper said, and on any other day, Steve would have laughed. "You okay, kid?" 

Kid, Steve thought, his brain buzzing, when was the last time he'd been a kid? 

"No," Steve said, answering the question truthfully for the first time in years. "No, I'm not." 

There was a moment of static, and then, "You need me there?" 

Steve wanted to say yes. Steve wanted to sit on the floor and wait for an adult to come by and take care of it. Steve wanted a dad who would come home and make everything go away. But that wasn't the truth, and it would scare Dustin, so Steve took a deep breath and acted like a fucking grown up for once. "I was thinking that Dustin and I could come by the cabin tonight, actually. There's something there I think we might need." 

Hopper made a small, considering noise. "This about all that nastiness this fall?" 

"Dustin doesn't think so," Steve said, glad to be able to report some good news for once. "It's more… personal. But, you know, you have a lot in the cabin that might have answers, so…" 

There was a moment of dead air, and Steve wondered if Hop was weighing his affection for El against his need to protect Steve. Hopper was obviously more of a protective dad than Steve's dad had ever been, putting even Claudia Henderson to shame with his hovering abilities, and Steve… didn't begrudge El that. Really, he didn't. But there was a lump in his throat when he thought about Hopper leaving him to deal with this on his own. And he would, if it meant keeping his daughter out of trouble. Steve knew that without a moment's thought. 

He wondered what it said about him that the knowledge made his chest ache. Nothing good, probably. 

"Come on down," he said eventually, and something in Steve's chest unclenched. "You'll both stay for dinner." 

"Sounds good," Steve said, although they both knew it hadn't been a question. "We should be there in about ten minutes." 

"Yeah, I know where you live, boy," Hopper said with a snort, and then the line went quiet. 

Despite himself, Steve smiled down at the walkie as he threw it haphazardly back into Dustin's bag. No matter what changed, at least Hop would always be the same. He was the same as a father figure as he was when he had been a stranger breaking up all Steve's best parties. It was a small comfort, to see someone strong enough to not let all the craziness of their lives change him– A comfort that Steve let wash over him in the silence of his kitchen, breathing deep. 

Okay, game face on, he told himself. Keeping how badly this affected him from Dustin was hard enough, and he knew it would be near impossible in the face of El's observant gaze. He wasn't entirely sure how this would affect her, but keeping as calm as possible would stop her from freaking out, and that was always good for Steve's health. 

He loved the kid but, Jesus, she was scary sometimes. 

"So what's the game plan?" Dustin asked as they both climbed into the Beemer. "I mean, what are we going to tell him?"

"Stop trying to game the Chief," Steve said, with the air of an older troublemaker who had long since learned better. "It literally never works." 

"So, what, we just go in there and tell the truth?" Dustin said. He sounded uncomfortable at the idea, which Steve kind of understood. He'd been the same at Dustin's age, always lying and keeping problems to himself for genuinely no good reason. He was still working hard to break the habit, obviously. He didn't know why he did it, though, and Dustin probably wasn't even aware of it yet– It was just a knee-jerk reaction, something Steve had learned after years of proof that telling the truth rarely got you anything but grounded. 

"If we want Hop to help, he's gotta know what's going on," Steve said, with more confidence than he felt. Dustin argued for the entire drive, less because he disagreed, Steve was pretty sure, and more because it was easier than dwelling on the mystery. Sometimes your brain needed a break from the panic spiral of the unknown, and bugging the shit out of your best friend was the perfect solution, apparently. 

Steve sighed in relief when he rounded the last corner and the cabin slid into view. 

Hidden away in the depths of the same woods that abutted Steve's yard, Hopper's cabin was small and plain, unnoticeable from the main roads that cut through the town mere feet away. Steve wasn't sure how many people knew about the place, but those in the know rarely came by except by appointment. Even Joyce knew better than to roll up to Hopper's unannounced. If anything, such a bold move would be a sign that something had gone truly, terribly wrong. 

There was always a bit of nerves just before Steve knocked on the cabin door. Every time, something in him was convinced he would be turned away. The confirmation beforehand didn't help the anxiety, and Steve was never sure why– Maybe it was the feeling of constantly intruding on El and Hopper's new family, or maybe it was just the fact that they both could kick Steve's ass, but the initial frisson of nerves never faded even after Steve had grown comfortable in their presence. 

Hopper opened the door before he could knock, leaving Steve's hand hanging awkwardly in the air. 

"This doesn't look like an emergency," Hopper said, voice gruff– But his gaze swept carefully over the both of them. 

Steve opened his mouth to explain, or at least offer some kind of vague reassurance that would get them in the door, but Dustin beat him to the punch, as usual. "It's not really a human-type emergency." 

Hopper's eyes snapped to Steve, surprise and suspicion mixing together in equal measure. "You said this wasn't about the lab." 

Steve swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry under Hopper's gaze. 

"Most Wesen aren't man-made," Dustin said, suddenly huffy with offense. Steve would probably be offended, too, if he'd had a lifetime to adjust to not being human. Seemed kind of rude to start assuming people were created in a lab. "Look, can we come in? If I have to re-explain my entire society to you, I at least want to do it sitting down." 

To Steve's surprise, Hopper smiled down at Dustin and took a step back, shrugging. It wasn't exactly a grin, but it was there plain as day, small and fond. "Sure, come on in. El," Hopper said, raising his voice to shout across the cabin to his daughter. "Company's here!" 

El's door swung open on cue, all the proof Steve needed that she'd known they were coming the whole time. The girl all but sprinted into the main room, nearly tackling Dustin in a hug. They looked almost like siblings, all brown curls and wide smiles, and El's delight at seeing Dustin was effusive. Despite the stress of the last two days, Steve found himself sharing Hopper's smile. 

The kids chattered to each other, voices soft with delight, and Hopper made eye contact over their heads. "You hanging in there, Harrington?" It was the kindest way to say that he'd heard the panic in Steve's voice earlier, and embarrassment flooded through his veins. Steve appreciated the concern. Really, he did. But suddenly the shame of his own need to be cared for was overwhelming, and Steve had to fight the urge to back out of the house with a mumbled excuse. 

He couldn't figure this out on his own. This wasn't going away. 

Luckily, Hopper's voice had reminded El of their second guest, and she saved Steve from having to reply by pulling away from Dustin. "Steve!" she cooed, her voice still pure childhood. 

She went in for a hug, her face tilting up to beam at him, and– As their eyes met, El's face shifted. The rapidly familiar ripple of a woge, leaving behind the twisted, pitted skin of her second face. 

The black of her eyes burned like coals, and the intensity of them sung in Steve's veins as adrenaline shot through his blood. His hand, which had raised to pull El into a hug, shot towards Dustin, instead– 

Every cell in his body thrummed with instinct. He needed to get the kid out of here, away from the danger. He needed to put himself in between, needed to fight.

Before his hand could even land on Dustin's back, his feet were off the floor. 

Steve hit the cabin wall, the entire room rattling with the weight of El's power. He could hear Hopper and Dustin's voices, surprised and panicked, but their voices were lost in the ringing in his ears. He struggled in vain against El's invisible hold, rage mounting with every futile second. 

The part of him that still held on to rationality, the part that made him Steve, struggled to calm his pounding heart. He knew El wouldn't hurt Dustin, knew El wasn't the threat his body said she was, but it took everything he had just to bite down on the feral scream building in his throat. 

The strings of El's power were cut just as quickly as they were woven, and Steve slumped to the floor. There were hands on him, but he recognized them as Dustin's, and he let them hold him down. 

"I'm… I'm sorry," El said, her voice small. Steve wanted to cry at the fear there, even as the furious parts of him settled in smugness. 

He didn't look at her. He couldn't. Instead, Steve looked up at Hopper, pleading. 

"Something's wrong with me," Steve said, voice shaking. "You have to help." 

Hopper's face was grim, his mouth a flat line as he looked down at them. "You feel the Mindflayer on him?" he asked El, his eyes never leaving Steve. 

El was quick to shake her head. "No, it's not like Will. It was… I think it was me." 

"I already told you, it's not an Upside-Down thing! He's just a Wesen," Dustin said. His hands were shaking where he had them fisted in Steve's t-shirt. Steve leaned into them, feeling them steady against his ribs. 

"Like us?" Some of the unease faded from El, excitement in her eyes. 

"Not exactly," Steve said, still looking up at Hopper with guilty eyes. 

Dustin turned to El, his eyes sparkling with the excitement of having someone who would entertain his nonsense for once. "You noticed his eyes, right? That's the only aspect of his woge. I've never seen anything like it, have you?" 

El shook her head. "I've had woges forced before, but I–" 

"Forced?" Hopper repeated, and Steve slumped further into himself. 

"Steve didn't, though," El said, and her eyes drifted back to Steve. He didn't like the way her eyes went unfocused when he looked back, the same way Dustin had drifted into a haze earlier that day. "I was… afraid." 

"A prey response," Steve said, glumly repeating what Dustin had theorized before. 

"Not of you," El said gently, to Steve's surprise. "When your eyes went black, I could see myself in them. Not my body, but my…" Her face twisted in thought. "My self." 

"I did, too," Dustin said, frowning. "And Steve said he had the same initial adrenaline response, but I didn't–" 

"I didn't like what I saw," El said, her words clipped in the harsh, stilted way it had been when she was younger. 

All four of them sat in the silence that followed for a moment. Steve wondered if they were also trying to ignore what Steve was: The things El had done that Dustin hadn't, the things she'd had no choice but to become. He wasn't sure what El had seen staring back at her, but Steve couldn't imagine having to actually face the worst of himself. And how did his pathetic little life even compare to the things El had survived? 

Eventually, Hopper broke the silence. "I didn't see anything." The skepticism in his voice was palpable, but there was relief there, too. 

"Humans wouldn't," Steve said, a terrible realization creeping up his spine. "We were wrong, Dustin. It's not a predator thing. I think it's…" He huffed, trying to think of some kind of comparison. "It's like those butterflies that make themselves look like owls. They're trying to fend other Wesen off. Whatever I am, it's afraid of being hunted." 

"Alright, alright. This is–" Hopper rubbed a hand over his face, looking five years older than he had when Steve and Dustin had knocked on his door. "Start from the beginning. What exactly are we dealing with here?" 

Dustin and Steve shared a look. 

'You're the smart one,' Steve said with a shrug. 

'You're the one with the freaky eyes,' Dustin said with an arched brow. 

"Alright, so… It started after I picked Dustin up from school yesterday," Steve began. He ran them both through everything, even the parts that made him cringe. The first intense need to fight or escape in the face of Dustin's woge, the changes in his own reflection he couldn't replicate. 

El listened politely, sending Steve small smiles when she noticed him looking her way. Her obvious happiness when he or Dustin included her in their discussion of Wesen almost made Steve feel guilty for hating this. He knew isolation, both real and metaphorical, was the hardest part of El's slow integration into society, and having more Wesen around was probably a dream come true, but– Steve wasn't that guy. He didn't know a damn thing about being Wesen. He was just… human with a condition. 

Besides, whatever levity El brought to the situation, Hopper was apparently determined to stomp out. His face was that of a man facing down a firing squad, one who was fucking pissed about it, besides. When Dustin mentioned Steve's parents, he practically went apoplectic, turning away as his face went redder and redder. 

Whatever the fuck that was about. 

"So we decided we should come to you," Steve said, gesturing, "because you would know what to do about… me." 

Hopper's face didn't get any less angry. El, who had apparently just noticed her father's countenance, looked between them with wide eyes. 

"What to do about you," Hopper repeated, voice flat. 

"Yeah," Steve said, nodding. "Like you did with Will." 

El and Dustin both flinched, but Hopper was made of stone. Nothing but long, uncomfortable eye contact from him. "I don't think there's anything to be done here, kid," Hopper said. 

Steve couldn't suppress the full-body reaction to that, scrambling to his feet. Adrenaline was hitting him again, sending his already exhausted heart into paroxysms, but now it was true fear. Not of some imagined enemy, but of himself. "I can't just be around people like this, Hop," he said through gritted teeth. 

"You're around people now." 

"That's my fucking point! I have like four fucking friends in the entire world, and two of them turned out to be the exact kind of people that I'm a danger to. The only reason El isn't hurt is because she can kick my ass," Steve pushed a hand through his hair, feeling it stick up at the ends from leftover hairspray. He didn't care. He wanted to pull it out by the fucking roots. "What if I go to the grocery store and meet a Wesen in the fucking dairy aisle, Hop? What about the next time I see Mrs. Henderson?" 

"You didn't want to hurt El," Hopper said, his voice calm but his face still marred by anger. "You were reaching for Dustin. You wanted to protect him." 

"You can't know that for sure. I can't– I can't control myself when I'm like that," Steve said. "It took literally everything I had not to hurt my own fucking kid." 

"Me?" Dustin squeaked.

"You can. I know what someone out of control looks like, Harrington. You aren't it." 

"Why can't you just fucking help me?" Steve said, his voice going reedy with desperation. 

Hopper sneered. "I'm not going to help you punish yourself for something you haven't even done yet." 

"I think maybe we should go outside," El said, and Dustin nodded eagerly. They both scurried outside like they were being chased. 

"Stay where I can see you!" Hopper bellowed after them. Steve blinked back tears, shaking in the silence the kids left behind. Hopper took a deep breath. "Look, kid…" 

"I don't get why you won't help," Steve said, his eyes falling to the floor. "It's not punishment when it's El. Why can't you–" 

"El could control herself," Hopper said. "She just didn't know that she needed to. She's still learning how to be a person, Steve. She's just a kid." 

"Right, right. Sorry," Steve rubbed at his nose, willing his tears away. "I'm sorry I bothered you, I–" 

"That's not…" Hopper sighed, grabbing one of Steve's shoulders in one big hand. "What I'm saying is that you're already a good kid. I don't have to worry about you getting yourself or somebody else hurt." 

"I get myself and other people hurt literally all the time."

Hopper rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. You're not going to hurt the kids, and I don't believe you're going to start attacking randoms in the street. You're still you." 

"But…" Steve swallowed around a dry throat. He didn't know how to make Hopper understand, didn't know how to make him care. He'd never been very good at that. Half of his life, Steve had been begging people to care. None of it had ever worked. "Alright. I get it." 

Hopper nodded, looking relieved. "Just go home, Harrington. Lay low for a little while. Get used to the new instincts." Steve still wanted to protest, but he agreed. "Good. Let's get outside, before those kids start some trouble." 

Steve followed Hopper out the cabin door, head held low. Dustin and El were waiting for them on the porch, sitting on the edge with their knees pulled up to his chest. They weren't talking, just watching the door with their bright, expectant faces. 

"It'll be fine," Hopper told them, voice calmer than it had been inside. The kids deserved that, Steve told himself. "Steve's got this." 

"Yup," Steve said, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. "It's all under control." 

El darted forward, throwing her arms around Steve's chest and clinging. Steve tried not to meet anyone's eyes over her head and hugged her back just as hard. 

"I'm sorry I scared you," he whispered, heart twinging in his chest. Not much scared El, and now he was on the list. What did that say about him? 

Squeezing even harder, El shook her head, rubbing her face against his chest. "Don't be sorry. It's not your fault," she said. It sounded like she was mimicking someone, and Steve wondered if Hopper had done that for her. If she'd been held close and told everything would be okay. 

Swallowing around his jealousy, Steve held on until El stepped back and smiled up at him. "You'll have to give me some tips on how to do this Wesen thing," Steve said. "Dustin's terrible at it." 

She smiled up at him. "We'll learn together." 

Dinner was a simple affair. Hopper hadn't let Steve help at all, so he had sat on the couch and watched Dustin and El play card games until spaghetti was on the table. The kids were loud and chaotic, thrilled to be around each other again, and it didn't matter that Steve only talked when someone asked him a question. Somehow, he made it through the meal, even when every bite churned in his stomach. 

Even when Dustin kept sending him little looks of concern, always too perceptive for his own good. 

They said their goodbyes quickly, even when El begged them to stay. Hopper, laughing, had told her they couldn't stay forever, and waved them out of the cabin and into the car. 

When Steve pulled into the Henderson's driveway, Dustin hesitated before opening the door. 

"So, I've been thinking," Dustin said, "and I don't think I should go to Camp Know-Where this year." 

Immediately, Steve knew he had fucked up. Dustin had talked about little else since the spring semester had started. No matter what problem he'd had, whether it was bullies or how boring his classes were, Dustin had changed the subject to how good this summer was going to be. And Steve got it. Really, he did. If he'd grown up in a town where no one cared about sports and bullied him for liking basketball, he'd be fucking stoked to spend some time with people who understood him, too.

But now Steve had ruined that for him, too. 

"Absolutely not." 

"I can't just…" Dustin looked distressed, and Steve was all the more determined to send the little shit to camp himself. "What if something happens while you're away?" 

"What's gonna happen?" Steve said, even as his brain played a horror film of all the things he could do without Dustin as a buffer for the rest of the world. He tried to borrow a little of Hopper's confidence. "I just have to get a handle on my instincts, that's all." 

"I don't think sitting in your house alone all summer–" Dustin started, but Steve cut him off, slicing his hand through the air. 

"You're going to your shitty little nerd camp, Dustin, and that is final." Before Dustin could protest again, Steve continued, "I have to get a job this summer anyway, remember? Official Bradley Harrington decree. Even if you stayed home, we wouldn't be able to hang out all day. You can't, like, come to work with me." 

Dustin didn't look convinced. "What if something happens?" 

Honestly, Steve didn't know, either. "You know, I'll call…" Who? The last thing Steve wanted was to disappoint Hopper, so he and El were out. The kids were too young to help with this shit, anyway, and Steve didn't really know many other people. That only left… "I'll call Jonathan or Nancy, okay?" 

"You're really gonna call your ex-girlfriend and tell her you went insane and beat the shit out of somebody?" 

Steve sighed. "If I say yes, will you go to camp?" 

Dustin nodded. "Honestly, I kind of hope you fuck up, now." 

Closing his eyes, Steve responded: "Get the fuck out of my car, Henderson." 

The rest of the spring went smoothly. Steve kept to himself at school; He had already descended into minor loserdom after everything with Billy, so it was a piece of cake to stop making eye contact with anyone he wasn't completely sure was human. Graduation came and went with little fanfare. He skipped the ceremony, and made up some shitty excuse about a vacation with his parents. 

He and the kids ate pizza and watched movies all night. Steve pretended not to see the pity in Nancy's eyes when she picked up Mike and Will the next morning. He waved politely at Jonathan and closed the door.

A few weeks later, Dustin left for camp. 

He started work that same week, and Steve was grateful for the distraction. Orientation was a quick affair, the manager running him through health and safety protocol and quizzing him on customer service. Steve wore his best mask the whole time, smiling at all the right times, frowning thoughtfully when he was supposed to. 

"Let me introduce you to your coworker," the manager said, and led Steve into the back room. A girl sat at the table there. She was wearing the same awful uniform that Steve currently held in his hands, but Steve could still see the nerdom radiating off her. Something about the hair and the tacky thrift-store jewelry. This wasn't one of 'his' crowd, and Steve breathed a little easier for it. "Steve, this is Robin Buckley. Rob–" 

"I know who he is," Robin said, and raised her head. 

The woge rippled across her face, revealing fur and piercing golden eyes.

[Next Chapter]

#my fic #monster hunting and werewolves and such #but it's slow burn #steddie #steve harrington #super steve centric #also autistic steve imo #uh yeah das it #only I must wander

[desolatespring]

Dissident

CW: yandere themes, mentions of kidnapping, suicidal thoughts (only the very last sentence, nothing too explicit), mentions of murder, language

Note: I wanted to focus on fleshing out reader more and her inner turmoil with yan Chrollo so this is a little different than my other works.

“I apologize in advance, but nonetheless I utter my next words with the absolute, utmost sincerity. Eat shit, Chrollo.”

The tension is palpable and the only thing to cut it is the terse smile that stretches across Chrollo’s lips. The contentment doesn’t reach his eyes. It almost never does. He always seems so dissatisfied and devoid of life. After a moment Chrollo gestures to your seat across from him with an open palm.

“Now please sit back down. You’re causing quite the scene.”

You give a brief look over the establishment. Sure enough multiple people were staring back at you. Some with concern, most with mere curiosity and amusement. The rich rarely ever cared unless they were being paid to, yet the observation miffed you regardless. Even dressed to the nines, without a single hair out of place you knew you didn’t belong in a place like this. The rug alone was probably worth more than the entirety of your old apartment, yet here you were tracking mud all over it.

Chrollo clears his throat, promptly dragging your attention back to him. The more and more time you spend with him, the more often you lose yourself in thought, desperate for any break from reality. You considered your sanity to be slipping, he considered you to be more beautiful.

Realizing you were beginning to do it again, you respond. “That’s why I said it politely.”

“Politely? Sure. Quietly? Far from it.”

Seeing emotion finally creep back into his eyes had you on the brink of sitting back down. Your legs shook with the strength you were using to keep them from buckling. Chrollo rarely got angry, but right now you could tell you were treading in water you’d surely drown in if you kept at it.

Steeling the last of your willpower you double down. Hopefully you’ve learned to swim. “I’m leaving.”

Chrollo watches you walk towards the front entrance of the restaurant. He briefly considers paying for the tab before he follows you but quickly decides against it. Any reputation he was trying to build for these people you had ruined by your outburst.

By the time you’ve made it out to the parking lot he’s already caught up to you. The gravel crunching underfoot has you nauseous, is that how your legs would sound when he inevitably breaks them for you taking off like this? No, he wouldn’t hurt you. He hasn’t yet. But this is the first time you’ve so blatantly disregarded him.

The car door shuts and it causes you to jump. Terror feeding your already overthinking mind had you unaware of the way he ushered you into the vehicle. Within seconds he’s seated behind the wheel, his knuckles white from the force he’s gripping it with.

The drive back to your shared hideout is silent. You come to two possible conclusions. Possibility number one: he’s just finding the right string of words to scold you with, or (you fear this is more likely) possibility number two: he’s determining the best way to dispose of you.

All too soon he’s removing the keys from the ignition. He rounds the hood of the car and opens your door for you. Normally, this is a simple act of chivalry on his behalf. Though now you’re almost certain he’s staying near to you in case you try running. His grip on your wrist as he escorts you inside only supports your theory.

The cabin you’ve made your temporary residence in is dingy to say the least. Thick layers of dust varnish the floorboards and cabinets, each step kicks it up into the air, stinging your nose. Shivering, you note cobwebs is the closest this place has to insulation.

At the very end of the hall on the right hand side is the room you’d been sharing with Chrollo the last few nights. Leading you to the bed he motions for you to sit down before finally speaking. In the brief moment before any words leave his lips you think your fear might kill you before he has the chance to.

“Do you understand why I brought you to dinner with me tonight?”

You nod, eyes downcast.

“Help me on one heist. That’s all I asked of you. I buy you a new dress for the occasion, jewelry to match, even the highest quality makeup. Yet you can’t do me this one favor in return. Your little tantrum garnered us too much attention, and now this mission is as good as over.”

You fight the urge to snap back at him. Accepting the blame by choice might let you off the hook more easily. Plus at this point you no longer trust your own instinct. Maybe you were in the wrong, maybe he was. At this point what does it matter? You’re going to be made out as the bad guy anyway.

“I’m sorry…”

You whisper so quietly you doubt he could hear you. The apology was sincere though. You were sorry. Sorry for whatever choices you made that condemned you to a life like this.

“I thought I had made so much progress with you.” He sounds almost sad at the confession. How typical of him. No empathy. The only sadness he ever felt was for himself, lately you’ve felt you had that in common.

Once again the shutting of a door pierces through your thoughts. This time it’s followed by a click as he locks the bedroom door. Leaving you in solitude. Ah, so this is what he meant by progress.

When he first whisked you away. Abducted you, that’s what it is. He abducted you. Stop down playing your trauma. (Admittedly, doing so was a fault of yours long before you ever knew Chrollo.) When he first abducted you, you were locked in his bedroom for weeks, overtime he started letting you gain more freedom if he believed you’d earned it. It started with being able to cook your own meals in the kitchen, to small walks around the block while he accompanied you, even taking you shopping on occasion. But now you were back to square one, all because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.

The anger felt like it could tear you in two. It practically boiled in your veins, you could feel the heat rising to your face and prickling at your eyes, begging to be released. So you obliged. Tears streamed steadily down your cheeks, screams tore from your throat.

Self-hatred and malice towards Chrollo had you ripping at your dress and necklace, desperate to get them off of you. Pearls clank and scatter across the floor, fabric rips, and your chest heaves. Once undressed you haphazardly pull your pajamas on, not stopping even when you notice the white t-shirt was placed on backwards.

I’ll show him a fucking tantrum. The room holding you prisoner is covered in a similar dust to the main room of the cabin, you make sure to drag your dress through the dirtiest parts of it. The baby blue fabric now tinged grey and brown. The matching heels he’d bought you are promptly snapped and whipped at the locked bedroom door, hitting the ground with a resounding thud. You lean against the wall and slump down in a similar fashion. You sit with your knees close to your chest, soon burying your face in them and crying harder.

If he thought he could buy your love he was an even bigger fool than you initially thought. If he thinks I’ll ever love him at all he’s an idiot.

You give a small glance around the room and look at all the gifts you’ve destroyed. In that moment you swore to break everything he ever gave you, ruin every “date” he took you on, scoff at every sign of affection. If he was going to treat you like an untrained dog, then God be damned you’d show him rabid. Maybe one day if you were lucky enough he’d just put you down.

#chrollo x reader #chrollo #yan chrollo #yandere chrollo

[thesimulationswarm]

Double Shot, Part 2

Joel Miller x f!reader x Tommy Miller

Pairing: pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!AFAB!reader x Tommy Miller Rating: explicit, 18+ MDNI Summary: A gorgeous man walks into your coffee shop and introduces himself as Tommy Miller. Then his equally gorgeous brother shows up. You can't decide which you like better... but maybe you don't have to. A/N: This will be in four parts, building up to the smut. Hopefully released daily. It's dumb filthy shit I couldn't get out of my head, okay? Then I'll be back to my ongoing serious series. Word count: 1.5k warnings/tags: Tommy has a hangover, gratuitous pastry, threesome, shameless flirting, sibling rivalry, pwp

This is Part 2 of Double Shot; here are Part 1, Part 3, and Part 4.

Tommy was moving a little slow that morning, nursing a hangover. He’d had a few too many last night down on Sixth Street, and now the sharp August sunshine felt like it wanted to melt a hole right into his skull. When he shifted into park, the jolt of the truck rolling back on its chassis sent a wave of nausea through him.

Leave it to Joel to use it to his advantage, swinging out the door of the cab and hustling into Prickly Pear Coffee & Sweets while Tommy was still unbuckling his seatbelt.

He had his brother’s number.

He knew why Joel had put on a shirt with no stains or holes for once, one that stretched nicely across the muscles of his chest. It was the same reason he himself had carefully knocked the mud off his work boots and lavished extra attention on his curls this morning.

It was that pretty little thing who owned the place.

Who’d been eating out of the palm of his hand yesterday when Joel came in and ruined it. Or tried to, at least— the girl had still seemed interested after his brother showed up. She’d still looked him over with that sassy, hungry gaze.

Only problem was, she’d looked at Joel the exact same way.

And Joel had noticed, of course.

Tommy jogged to the door of the cafe, running one last hand through his hair before he ducked inside. Joel was standing by the counter, studying the pastry case intently.

“Which one would you recommend?” He asked, resting his tanned forearm oh-so-casually on the glass top. Motherfucker. 

You’d been following Joel’s gaze, studying the baked goods, but when you heard the door open your eyes snapped up and met Tommy’s. Like you’d been waiting for him.

Tommy smiled his biggest smile. It wasn’t a put on— he felt a genuine flood of happiness seeing you look up to greet him. His eyes roamed over you. The golden sun pouring through the windows was catching on your hair and making your eyes sparkle. In place of yesterday’s oversized t-shirt, you were wearing a low-cut white tank. And fucking hell, you wore it well. Hangover forgotten, he strolled over to join his brother.

“Well I know what I’m having. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about that cinnamon roll last night. Was like I could taste it in my dreams.” You looked at him and laughed, a magical soft sound.

“One sticky pecan cinnamon roll for Tommy, coming up,” you announced, and Tommy noted with approval that you remembered his name. You moved with a practiced ease behind the counter, lifting the cinnamon bun with a pair of tongs and nestling it in a plastic clamshell. You passed it to him with a sly half-smile.

Then you looked down at the pastries again, as if deep in thought.

“I think for Joel, however, we need something a bit… darker.” Tommy watched as your eyes flicked up to Joel’s.

“I think you may just be right, darlin’,” Joel practically purred back, meeting your gaze. Fuck him.

“How about a slice of my Mexican chocolate tart?”

“Perfect.”

Tommy watched you serve Joel his pastry. When you handed it over, he saw how your small hand brushed against his larger one, almost lingering there. He felt a hot flood of jealousy rising up through his chest— but then he noticed something. Even as your hand was touching Joel’s, your eyes were on him.

They sat outside on the picnic table, eating their treats and sipping their coffee.

“God damn,” Joel breathed as he set his plastic fork down in the now-empty box. “That woman can bake.”

“I know, right?” Tommy concurred. “I think I’m in love.”

Joel shook his head. “That’s gonna be a bit of a problem, because I’m pretty sure she wants to take me for a roll in the hay.”

“You just keep tellin’ yourself that, if it makes you feel better.”

Tommy rubbed his finger along the rim of his iced coffee, feeling the cold condensation that had gathered there. He loved nothing more than giving his brother shit, but he did wonder. He wanted to believe it was him that you were into. But for every moment you seemed to be flirting with Tommy, there was another when your eyes were definitely on Joel. What the hell was that thing about him needing something a bit darker anyway?

He knew Joel was handsome, that some girls dug that rugged, older man vibe. They got wet for a guy with a mortgage and sad eyes. And he’d spent his childhood watching chicks go wild for his big brother, so it’s not like this would be the first time a girl was more interested in Joel than in him. 

But it didn’t seem that simple, either. There was something playful and mischievous about you, something more his speed. And there was undoubtedly a spark there when you locked eyes. 

“Y’know what, Joel?”

“What?”

“I think we should have a little wager. See which one of us can land a date with the coffee shop babe first.”

Joel laughed and shook his head. “Jesus, Tommy. What are you, twelve?”

A slow grin spread across Tommy’s face. “Sounds like someoneis afraid he’s going to lose.”

“You really wanna play this game, Tommy? ‘Cause you know I’ll take you down.”

“Oh I do,” Tommy said, his smile widening. This was going to be fun.

Tommy couldn’t believe his luck. Joel was distracted packing up the truck for the day, making sure all his beloved tools were accounted for. And then you came right out the door of your shop, keys in hand and bag slung over your shoulder. He walked briskly across the food truck lot as you flipped the ‘Come In, We’re OPEN’ sign to ‘Sorry, We’re CLOSED.’

“Headin’ out for the day, sugar?”

You turned slowly, and he watched the delicious roll of your body. That tank top, man alive. And now that you weren’t standing behind the counter, he could properly appreciate the tight cut-offs you’d paired it with. That denim hugging your curves like a second skin.

“Hey Tommy. Yeah, it’s closing time for me. I’ll be back bright and early tomorrow, though.” 

You stood there, hand on one hip, looking him over in that saucy way you had. Expectant. He felt his palms begin to sweat— it was now or never.

“Hey, so, I was wonderin’…” He trailed off, ducking his head and rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand. Get it together, Miller, he silently admonished himself.

“Yeah?”

“Well, I thought you might be interested in goin’ out dancin’ this Saturday.” 

Your eyes were twinkling. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you had a chance—

“That’s right, me and by brother were plannin’ on hittin’ up The Broken Spoke. ‘S kind of a Miller brother tradition.” Joel slapped a hand heartily against Tommy’s back. Son of a bitch must’ve snuck up while he was distracted. “We thought you might be interested in joining.”

Your face broke into a wide smile. “That so?”

“Looks like we’ll be neighbors for a while here, while we work on this house. Be good to get to know each other,” Joel drawled. Tommy imagined how satisfying it would feel to kick his knees in with his steel-toed boots.

“I’d be happy to join you boys,” you pronounced, turning your key in the door lock with a practiced flick of your wrist. “Pick me up around 8?”

#joel miller x reader #tommy miller x reader #joel miller x reader x tommy miller #tlou fic #the last of us fanction #pwp #pre-outbreak #tlou smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #tommy miller fanfiction #joel miller x you

[jurassic-park-inthe-world]

Protect Me? (Zach Mitchell)

Summary: Zach Mitchell and the reader, Y/N, have been best friends since childhood. When Zach takes her to Jurassic World, it's a game of survival.

**********************************************************************

The day he met her, he fell in love. That's how Zach says he and Y/N met, but when Y/N herself is around, he says they met in the seventh grade, when she moved to Michigan from Alaska. She was used to the cold, it didn't bother her, and neither did the kids whispering how weird she was for still being obsessed with dinosaurs. She got along great with Gray, because they both knew things about Sauropods and long-necks and T-Rexes and Triceratops and this and that kind of dinosaur.

Over time, Zach started falling for her. At the time, he was still with Ashley, his now-ex, and he hated thinking that he was leading her on, even though he thought--no, knew--that he had no chance with Y/N. So, as friends, he invited her along to Jurassic World, their aunt's dinosaur theme park.

Time Skip

Zach, Gray, and Y/N got off of the boat docked at Isla Nublar. The hills and mountains spread around them like a green maze, and the wooden dock was warm from the sun. Y/N grinned, taking it in. She loved nature, it was her happy place. She liked to often sit near rivers or streams and draw them in motion, or listen to the rain and sleep, even if she got cold and a little wet. "It's so pretty here," She said, and Zach grinned, shaking his head. "You and nature, I swear." She giggled, and Zach blushed.

"Who's that?" Gray asked, pointing at a woman with black hair and dark shades covering her eyes. She was dressed in a power suit, a pale gray color that covered a white shirt. She had pale gold shoes on. In her slim hands, she held a sign: ZACH AND GRAY MITCHELL, Y/N L/N. "Let's find out," Y/N said softly.

Time Skip

"What the hell just happened?" Y/N choked on water as she swam to shore. Zach and her pulled Gray onto the mud, and Zach said, "We were almost eaten." He blew water from his nose in a short huff, and Gray said, "That's why Aunt Claire wanted us to come back. We should've gone back." He whimpered, and Y/N gently helped him up, shaking water from her hair. "Well, let's just get back to the park, okay?"

They wandered around for a long time and found a set of doors covered in vines and moss. "The old park!" Y/N cried happily, running up the steps slick with moss. "Careful, careful." Zach scolded as she ran inside. It was a disaster, but it was beautiful, like an old castle left in ruins. She could see the beauty where everything must've been. "They built over it," Gray frowned, touching a wall with painted Velociraptors on it. "Makes sense, they didn't exactly tell anyone this happened." Zach muttered, picking up a banner. He turned to Gray. "Still got those matches?" Gray opened his "dork pouch" and took them out, handing them to Zach, who lit the banner like a torch. "Come on." He said, and they followed.

They had just entered the old Visitor's Center when a large, scaly foot slammed down and crushed a leaf-covered statue. "Run!" Zach yelled, and they bolted. Y/N tried keeping up but didn't see a large vine and root entangled together on the floor and tripped, flying forwards. "Ow!" She yelped, and the dinosaur, the one that tried to eat them on the waterfall, snarled and started leaning down. She froze, but knew that this thing didn't see like the T-Rex; it went off thermal radiation, not sight. Suddenly, the thing howled, and she saw Gray jamming a huge stick in the dinosaur's leg, making it scream and roar in pain. "Come on!" Zach was yanking her to her feet, and as they passed, they grabbed Gray. Making it into a garage, they saw a gasoline Jeep. Pausing, they waited to hear the dinosaur's loud steps. After a moment, they heard them, stomping away. "He's leaving," Gray whispered. Zach adn Y/N weren't listening. He was holding her close, breathing deeply to calm himself. "Are you okay?" He asked, face inches from hers. She nodded, breathless. "Yes." For a moment, they stared at each other. "Jesus, just kiss her." Gray snapped, moving to the Jeep.

Zach grinned, kissing Y/N, and she kissed back, feeling safe. "I...I love you," She whispered, and he blushed, a small smile on his face. "I love you more."

#jurassic world #jurassic park #zach mitchell #zach mitchell imagine #zach mitchell x reader #gray mitchell #dinosaurs #prehistoric #tyranosaurusrex #indominus rex #velociraptor #love #romance #fiction #fanfic

[jaemmphilia]

★ 𝘮𝘪𝘹𝘵𝘢𝘱𝘦: 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘴 ★ || han j.s

★ summary: it's your first SKZ CODE episode with the boys as their newest member. jyp decided to add you to stray kids after he saw your audition. he felt that you were the thing that stray kids was missing, and he pushed you to debut immediately. things start out awkwardly, and you feel so left out. but as you eat fried clams with the boys,, they start to very slowly warm up to you. maybe it would have been a good idea to mention you are deathly afraid of pools and various bodies of water.

★ characters: bang chan, lee know, changbin, y/n (he/him pronouns and a masculine frame), hyunjin, han, felix, seungmin, i.n

★ warnings: based off of the most recent skz code episodes where they visit the mud flaps, it's gonna be a little awkward at first, skz ignore y/n (not on purpose, it's just a little new for them), reader is afraid of water and nearly drowns, changbin pushes reader into the water (pls don't hate me for that), he apologizes tho, han and felix being best boys, let me know if i forgot anything

★ word count: 3.8K (3,867)

★ binnie's thoughts: my ride or die gave me the genius idea to write a fic based off the most recent skz episodes, and i just had to deliver

★ disclaimer: this fic in absolutely NO way represents the stray kids members as people. this is just for fun, so don't take it to heart. just enjoy!

You feel the need to throw up your breakfast– and you would be totally okay with it. It would give you an excuse to not show up for filming. This wasn’t really how you expected your idol life to be. You thought you would be put into a group that was on its way to debuting. Not joining a group that already debuted and is at the top of its career. 

Stray Kids proved themselves that they are still as successful with eight members rather than the original nine. After the situation with Woojin, Stray Kids went off like a rocket, pushing their way up the charts and blowing the competition out of the park. You admire that about them, and you wish to be part of a successful group just like that. 

It seems that you really do get what you wish for.

JYP made sure you were ready to become a member of Stray Kids. You have your own SKZOO character, a cow mixed with a koala named Mookie– and he released some photos of you from a photoshoot. You already have a set position in the group, based on your audition video. You’re the ace, the all-rounder, the one to do it all. You can’t help but feel under pressure with that title. You’re expected to sing, rap, dance, and look exceptionally stunning all at the same time, and the thought of that alone gives you the shakes. 

The eight males were really confused when Chan was called into a meeting with JYP himself. They thought their precious leader was in trouble for something. The remaining seven of them paced around their dorm, some of them biting their nails as they waited for Chan to get back. Felix started to tear up thinking they were going to disband. With a little consolation from his favorite hyung, Changbin, he was able to calm down enough to stop his tears. 

When Chan returned to them, his expression was unclear to them. Sometimes they can predict what’s wrong just by the way Chan’s face is twisted up, but for the first time in a while, they were stumped. 

Chan sat down with his hands propped up under his chin. His eyebrows were furrowed, his lips drawn in a straight line. Then he spoke up. 

“JYP is adding someone to the group.” 

You could hear a pin drop in the room. No one knew what to say. What could they say? Their entire world was just flipped upside down. They had spent years getting used to being a group of eight, now they have to let a complete stranger into their close-knit family? 

Felix was the first to speak up, and everyone turned their attention to him. He gulped before speaking, “Do we know who it is? When are they joining?” the blonde haired male couldn’t stop the shakiness of his voice as he looked at Chan. 

“Well, JYP told me that he’s been a trainee for a few years now. JYP said he doesn’t fit into any of his other groups, and he truly believes the guy fits our group the most.” Chan said with a deep sigh falling from his lips as he took a moment to let the news sink in. 

“I don’t think this is a good idea. What if he turns out to be like…” A pause. “You-know-who?” Everyone could feel the air being sucked out of the room after Jeongin spoke. 

It was something to consider. The entire situation with Woojin was nearly career-ending for them. The alleged actions of just one person nearly ruined everything for them. 

“No. JYP wouldn’t do that to us. I won’t allow anyone to hurt us like he did. Not again.” Chan says, looking at each and every one of his brothers. They could tell he was serious, his brows were furrowed and there wasn’t a single hint of amusement on his face. 

The boys all shared a group hug, and for a second, the impending anxiety of adding someone to their family was gone. 

Of course, it would only last for a short time. 

Which brings us to the present. You are riding in a van separate from the other members, on your way to the first filming location. You had filmed a little introduction video before you got onto the bus, and you were told it would play before the actual SKZ CODE video started. You had tried to not appear nervous, your hand gripping your jeans tightly out of the camera's view. You put on a gentle smile as you introduced yourself, hoping to make a good enough impression. 

You settle down in the van, holding Mookie in your arms as you buckle in. You hope they’ll accept you, because you have worked your ass off to debut. You may not be debuting how you had hoped to, but at this point you shall settle with whatever is given to you. 

You place your headphones on your head, leaning your head on the window as you play songs from the playlist you use when you sleep. You look out the window at the foggy sky and you realize the weather describes your mental state perfectly at this very moment. Dark. Quiet. Foggy and hard to see through. You sigh once again as the van starts moving. Hopefully this goes smoothly.

The Stray Kids boys are talking to each other while the cameras are off, and your name finds its way into the conversation once again. The air shifts awkwardly, the eight of them still in disbelief that a total stranger is being added to their group. 

They are looking at your headshots on Hyunjin’s phone, each and every one of them are impressed by your good looks. The expression on your face is intimidating, the lights casting shadows that dance along your smooth skin. They take in every single feature–your soft freckles that litter your cheeks and forehead, the little beauty mark on the tip of your nose, and the other beauty mark on your bottom lip. They can’t deny the fact that you are really attractive, you don’t look like the typical idol. 

Felix wonders if you two will bond over the fact that you both have freckles, or the fact that you’re both from different countries. Do you struggle with Korean like he does, or are you fluent like Chan? Do you have a preference for English or Korean? He wonders where you’re from, what was it like growing up for you? He feels a little bit of excitement bubbling in his chest at the idea of meeting someone who is similar to him. JYP told them a bit about you, and they were surprised to find out that you were from The United States. 

“He’s really attractive, I can’t deny it,” Lee Know speaks up from his spot, and he earns a series of agreements from everyone else. “And he looks like a sweet guy, I think we’re overthinking this entire situation.”

Chan hums, his expression still unreadable. He’s still on the fence about this, and he knows that he doesn’t really have a say in the situation. He wishes he did, because he would reject you immediately. He truly believes that Stray Kids are just fine as eight, not nine. And your position is the ace? Last time he checked, Han was their ace. They don’t need another one, Han does an amazing job as the ace of Stray Kids. Chan just hopes that Stay will be accepting.

The boys arrive before you do. They excitedly make their way to the mud flaps, each of them joking around with each other as the cameras roll. They laugh as Changbin chases Hyunjin, spouting something about romance. A few of them get closer to the mud flaps, while the others stick behind, watching fondly. They hear the door of a vehicle shut and they all whip their heads to look behind them. 

You start walking towards the eight males, Mookie is your clutches as you feel yourself start to sweat. You’re so nervous that you’re sweating while it’s cold outside. Your red-dyed hair is sticking up on one side–from laying your head on the van window–and your gray cardigan is slipping off your wide shoulders. You feel the cameras on you as you walk closer to your new bandmates. 

Once you deem yourself close enough for them all to hear you, you bow towards them. “Hello. My name is Lim Y/N, it’s nice to properly meet you all,” you say as you try to keep your voice from sounding so shaky. Your hands are clammy and wet with sweat. “I hope we can all get along, thank you again.” You stand up straight and take in their expressions.

Chan motions for everyone to get in line to do their group introduction. They all bow to you and introduce themselves one by one. You smile softly at them despite the awkwardness that sits heavily in the air. 

“So, uhm, should we go eat fried clams, now?” Changbin says, breaking the silence and awkward eye shifting. Chan agrees and they all retreat to their van, leaving you behind. 

You try to not let it get to you as you walk to your van. You squeeze Mookie’s plushy body as you take a few deep breaths. 

Once you all arrive at the restaurant, you sit at the table with Chan, Felix, Lee Know, and Han. You wait for them to get whatever food they want before you start grabbing some for yourself. When you take that first bite, you light up at how tasty it is. 

You’re no stranger to Korean cuisine, you did end up living with your grandma from the age of fourteen to your current age of twenty-three. When you were younger, you had no knowledge of your Korean heritage. Of course you knew your father was Korean and was born in South Korea, but ultimately you knew little to nothing about what it meant to be half-Korean. So, after some long conversations with your mother and father, they convinced you to move in with your grandma in Daejoon, South Korea. You were super excited, bright-eyed and itching for a change. At first it was a little difficult to adjust. You barely knew the language– you only knew a few phrases that helped you get around, but that was it. You are grateful that you have the ability to retain information quickly, and it’s all thanks to your mother. She’s a successful professor at a high-end college where she teaches psychology in Georgia.

“Wah, I’ve never had fried clams before. At least not any like this,” You say a little quietly, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself. Too bad everyone heard you. 

Felix pipes up after he finishes chewing his food. “You haven’t? Did you just move to Korea or have you been here for a while?” He asks and you notice how genuine he sounds. Like he’s interested in knowing more about you. It makes your heart beat fast in a good way.

“I was born in Georgia, in the US. But I moved to Daejoon when I turned fourteen, and I’ve been here ever since.” You told him, noticing that the others were also tuning in to what you’re saying. You earn a few hums of acknowledgement as everyone continues eating. 

“That’s pretty cool, looks like we have something in common.” Felix says, flashing you his sweet smile that makes you want to smile back. “You probably already know this, but I was born in another country. So was Chan hyung.”

You hum and nod as you chew your food, covering your mouth before you speak. “Yeah, I know quite a bit about you guys. You’re pretty famous all over.” You say with a soft laugh as you shake your head to move your fringe out of your eyes. 

Han finds himself staring at you while you talk. He likes the way your voice sounds when you speak, you have this smooth voice that feels like the softest silk on freshly lotioned skin. To Han, you look way better in person than in the pictures. Your skin is littered in light freckles, and the beauty marks on your face are so much more noticeable. He wonders what you sound like when you speak English. Is your voice more high pitched, low pitched, or is it the same? He feels an elbow jab his side and he fights the urge to screech like a crow. Damn Chan and his super parent senses.

The nine of you all finish eating and you’re cracking up at Felix and Jeongin when they go to feed the seagulls. You take videos of Seungmin trying to fight the birds, protecting Felix and Jeongin. You also take a few pictures of yourself near the mud flaps, and Felix ends up taking a few with you. You can tell he will become close to you pretty fast.

You all arrive at the house you’ll be staying at for two days and you’re all amazed by it. You all walk around and then you discover the basement. It’s unlike anything you’ve seen before– a karaoke machine, a nice pool table, and some arcade games. You watch as everyone rushes to play and sing. You don’t really see where you fit in, so you sit down and watch. You watch as they joke around and laugh. You listen to the inside jokes they have between each other. It makes your heart feel heavy knowing that you’ll possibly never be on the same level as them. They’ve been through so many ups and downs as a group, you will never understand what that’s like. 

You try to distract yourself with your phone, hoping that will prevent you from spiraling and crying in front of them. That would be pretty embarrassing on your part. You would hate to seem like someone who gets upset when he isn’t included, so you feel that a distraction is the best option. 

Felix is playing ping pong with Seungmin, and Seungmin notices that Felix keeps looking back at you. He’s starting to get a little annoyed that Felix isn’t paying attention to their very important game, so he huffs. 

“Hyung, pay attention! I’m so close to winning!” Seungmin whines, catching Felix’s attention. Felix apologizes and their game continues. One again, Felix misses the small white ball heading towards his side of the table. Seungmin knows it’s a point for him, but Felix didn’t even try to hit it. 

Seungmin lets out an annoyed groan and he looks to see where Felix is so focused on. It’s you. Seungmin takes a good look at you and he notices the look on your face. Longing. 

Hyung, invite him to play with you. We can continue our game later, I wanna go check out the rooms.” Seungmin says and Felix whips his head towards him. 

“Are you sure, Min? You don’t mind?” Felix asks, feeling bad for getting so distracted that he’s ruining the good time Seungmin is having. 

Seungmin nods and sets his paddle down. “Yeah. Just be prepared for me to kick your ass later.” Seungmin makes sure the cameras don’t pick up his vulgar language before he walks upstairs to check out the rooms.

Felix walks over to you, narrowly dodging Lee Know’s elbow that was so close to knocking him upside his head. Lee Know tends to get a little intense when he gets in the groove.

“Hey, Y/N hyung, do you wanna play some ping pong with me? Seungmin ditched me because he was losing so badly.” Felix says with a laugh. 

You look up when you hear someone talking to you in English. It honestly caught you off guard. It’s been a while since you’ve spoken English, you hope you still remember how to speak it (you’re a little dramatic, you get it from your dad–). 

“You– you want me to play with you?” You try not to sound too shocked, but you deem it to be a little too late for that. 

“Yeah, are you a sore loser like Seungmin, or are you a good sport when you lose?” Felix asks and you tut at him with a smirk. 

“Who said I was going to lose?” You retort back with your eyebrow cocked at him. Felix just laughs at you. 

“I’ll have you know I’m the best ping pong player out of all the guys.” Felix says, his hands on his hips in a victory pose. 

You stand up and start walking towards the ping pong table. “We’ll see about that, now won’t we?” you respond and pick up the paddle that Seungmin was once holding. You hunker down a bit, your eyes not leaving Felix’s form for a second. Poor Mookie sits abandoned on the seat near the karaoke machine. 

After everyone plays around for a bit, Seungmin comes downstairs whining about how he wants to swim. You freeze at the mentions of swimming, and your eyes shift around nervously. Everyone starts going to change, and you hesitate. Lee Know notices your hesitance, and he tilts his head at you. 

“Are you not coming? We’re gonna play some pool games. It’ll be fun.” He says, and you nod before you could stop yourself. 

“Yeah! I’m coming, don’t worry, hyung.” You smile at him as you follow behind him upstairs. You bite your fingernails anxiously at the idea of getting in the water. It sucks that one bad experience can completely ruin something for you. 

You get changed and you meet the others outside where the pool is. You stare at the deep blue water, your heart racing. You know you shouldn’t be standing so close to the edge, you could easily slip and fall in. You don’t want to drown on camera, much less in front of your groupmates. You feel a pair of hands on your back as they shove you forward, your arms and legs flailing as you fall into the water. 

The water isn’t deep, but that doesn’t matter to you. You thrash in the water, trying to get your head above the water. You panic, inhaling a large amount of water. You can’t breathe, your arms and legs are starting to hurt, and you just want out of the damn water. As you keep thrashing, you feel your body being pulled up and out of the water. 

Chan heaves you into a pool chair, his hands patting your back to help you spit out the water you inhaled. You cough as water spills from your mouth. Your chest and throat burns. You can feel your entire body shaking with fear. You start wheezing as you hug your knees, wanting the ground to open up and swallow you. You feel so embarrassed, you can’t do anything but cry. You hear someone telling the staff to turn off the cameras, and you feel a warm towel being placed on your tense shoulders. 

“Let me take him upstairs to get changed. I think it’s best if he doesn’t play volleyball with us.” Han says, his hand placed on your shoulder as he rubs comforting circles. Chan simply nods and tells the staff to resume filming when Han gets back from helping you get calmed down and dried off. 

Felix rushes over with something in his hand. Mookie. You look up at the blonde male, thanking him with your eyes. You take Mookie from him, following Han into the house. He guides you upstairs and sits you on the bed. 

“Can I look through your suitcase to get you some clean clothes?” He asks and you simply nod at him, sniffling. You watch as he opens your suitcase, rummaging through it. He pulls some clothes out and he guides you to the bathroom to change. 

You get changed and you shuffle out of the bathroom, a sad pout on your face. Han can’t help but think about how adorable you look. You might be older and taller than him, but you just look so soft. He feels his heart pick up pace as he stares. He should probably get back to the others to resume filming, but his feet won’t move. 

“Han, you should probably go back..” You say, your voice trailing off as you catch him staring at you. You feel shy under his gaze, no one’s ever looked at you like he’s looking at you right now. His eyes hold all emotions of attraction, the pools of deep brown staring into your own E/C eyes. You feel your ears get warm as you fight the goofy smile trying to make its way onto your face. 

“Right– sorry, uh.” He stutters, his neck turning a nice shade of deep red. He shakes his head, his ashy gray hair moving with his head. “Just– just let me know if you need anything, yeah? That must’ve been scary for you.” 

You nod, your voice raspy from coughing so much. “Yeah.. I don’t really like pools or large bodies of water, something happened when I was younger.” you explain softly, avoiding his concerned gaze. 

“I get it. I’m not the best swimmer, so I kind of see where you’re coming from.” Han says, trying to give some comfort, his hand coming up to rest on your shoulder. 

You simply give him a little smile, letting him know that you appreciate his comfort. You place your hand on top of his and you get an idea. 

“How about I play referee and scorekeeper for the volleyball game? I’ll keep my distance from the water and I won’t be missing out,”  you offer, and Han nods with a smile. 

“I think that’s a pretty smart idea, hyung,” he says, but he gives you a stern look. “Are you completely sure, though? Because you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” 

You hum and nod at him. He nods in response and the two of you walk back to the pool. 

Once you get outside, you’re being crushed by a pair of muscular arms. A string of apologies fall from Changbin’s mouth as he squeezes the life out of you. You can’t help but laugh at the shorter male.

“Hyung, I’m okay. You didn’t know that I’m afraid of water. I should apologize to you because I didn’t tell you beforehand.” You say, hoping to make the rapper feel better and less guilty. 

Changbin looks up at you, pouting. He lets you go and apologizes one more time. You wave him off and you pull up a pool chair near the middle of the edge of the pool. 

“Are you guys ready to play some volleyball?” You ask, earning a round of cheers from the males. You watch as they all hop into the water on their respective sides. You toss the ball into the water and whistle sharply, indicating the beginning of the game. You watch as they play, the cameras filming every second. 

You had your doubts about joining this group, but you think this could work out nicely. Let’s just hope it remains that way. 

#binnies req #kpop x male reader #stray kids x male reader #kpop x reader #male reader #stray kids x reader #han jisung x reader #han jisung x y/n

[hawkins-losers]

Grease stains and coveralls | Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: During a hot day, you pay Eddie a visit at the auto shop and the sight of him in his coveralls is hotter than the July weather

Word count: 0.7k

A/N: Now that it's canon that Eddie knows mechanic, here is mechanic!Eddie

-

Generally on scorching hot days like today, you would be inside with your fan on, but you decided to pay Eddie a little visit during his shift. Bring him a little refresher to beat the sweltering heat.

Working in coveralls and boots in a garage must be a nightmare.

You hissed as you got in your car, the leather of the seat burning your skin when you sat down. You quickly rolled down your windows, letting some air in. It was a shame that driving in a bikini wasn't allowed because it would've been today's outfit of choice. Right now, you were sweating in your denim shorts and cami.

You drove to the auto-shop and parked your car, grabbing the large slurpee in the cup compartment to take with you.

The garage door was open, allowing some air in the working area.

‘’Hey, Y/N!’’ one of the guys greeted, looking up from the hood of a car with a wrench in one hand and another tool you didn’t recognize in the other.

You greeted him back and smiled politely. It wasn’t your first time at the auto-shop. You knew most of Eddie’s co-workers by now.

‘’I’m gonna marry you if you say this is for me’’ he joked, nodding at the slurpee in your hand. ‘’I’m dripping in sweat.’’

You chuckled. ‘’Don’t let Eddie hear you.’’

The guy laughed, knowing how protective the young mechanic was with you. ‘’Munson! Your girl’s here,’’ he called out, directing his voice to the end of the garage. ‘’Last car on the left.’’

You thanked him for the info and disappeared to the end of the garage, feeling the heat getting hotter and hotter the farther you went. How did people work here?

You found him leaning over the engine of a blue Chevy, licking his lips. His coveralls were undone at the top and the sleeves tied around his waist, leaving him in a black wife beater. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail for practical purposes and he had tied his bandana over like you had taught him to.

Fuck. The picture before you made you clench your thighs.

You righted the cup in your grip as you took a moment to collect yourself before sauntering over to Eddie.

Upon hearing your footsteps approaching, he straightened up and flashed you his signature smile. The one he kept just for you. ‘’Hey Sweetheart,’’ he said as he wiped the sweat from his face, leaving a streak of grease in the wake of his hand.

‘’Hey baby,’’ you responded with a chuckle as you handed him the slurpee you brought. You had mixed all the different flavors at the gas station just the way he liked. The color was a yucky purple-ish brown, but Eddie swore it was delicious.

‘’You got this for me?’’ he asked. His skin glistened in the hot summer sun and he had patches of grease scattered over him.

‘’Thought you could use something to cool down with this heat.’’

Eddie wiped his sweaty, greasy hands on an old rag, then took the cup and had a long sip. You wanted to tell him to slow down or he would get a brain-freeze, but you knew he would ignore you. ‘’Did I ever tell you I love you?’’

‘’A few times.’’

‘’Well, I’ll say it again: I love you.’’

You smiled and grabbed the rag to wipe the black streak on his cheekbone, feeling like a mother cleaning her child after getting ice cream. ‘’Want to go swim in Lover's Lake after work?’’

‘’Yeah. I could go for a swim. We’ll go in my van though because you're a shit driver on dirt roads. Last time, your tires got stuck in mud and you almost backed into a tree-’’

You gasped and threw the grease-stained rag at him. Eddie laughed, meaning no harm with his teasing.

‘’I did not back into a tree.’’

‘’Why is there scratched on your rear bumper?’’ he taunted with a shit-eating grin, already knowing the answer.

‘’Shut up. We’ll take your van.’’ You looked around, checking if anyone was in earshot before whispering a dirty promise in his ear. ‘’And, if you're nice enough, I might go topless.’’

Eddie grunted, your words getting straight to his dick. ‘’Are you trying to make me hard in my coveralls?’’

-

Taglist: @broadway-or-noway @violetsleftfist @thelaststraw3  @cursedandromedablack  @Slashersimpfor  @savagejane1   @wh0reforbucknasty   @eddiemunson-slut   @slvdsjjk  @hehehehannahthings  @dreamdancers-world  @grace-loux  @iamharrystyleslover  @matildavol6  @Original_babababoo  @eddiemunsonbby  @notbeforelong  @lexi-2004 @violetrainbow412-blog  @tatespillows  @alwayslexii  @lilygreennn   @milkiane  @imahomeslice  @bunnygrl16 @cwritesforfun @marauders3rawh0re  @your-mom21 @parkersmyth @voguesir @milkiane @andrewgarfields-girlfriend @lilygreennn @alexxavicry @charlie-chick  @wandamaximoffs-deadchild  @horrorstreet  @rmeddar123  @Pastel-abyss-x @lil-tracys  @lanalanabanana

Eddie Munson taglist: @nighttwingg @yourfavoriteakutagawakinnie @heizenka @eddiemvunsongf @Eddie_munsons_girlfriend @magicalchocolatecheesecake @eddiemunsonistheloveofmylife @avril-reblog-cave @Fandomfaeryreads @harrys-tittie @straycatarang @fourlokiss  @eddiemattress  @ghoulishlygrey   @paola-carter @bubsonnobx @pauldanoswifereal @ofherscarlettwitchways @kiszkathecook  @truewdw1 @bubsonnobx @ohhrexella @Dreamtiara @pastelbabygirl19  @steves-robin @eddiemunsonbby @jenlouvre @bonked-beyond-belief2  @tvserie-s-world @bootlegmothman420 @courtmr @chrisxevans-seb @satinselenite @thikkiesixx  @jennilynn63  @nia-um  @welcometohellfirw @strangermarvelgirl @sugar-simz @fandomloversvaries @miakatharinaa  @julsss321 @m1rkw00dpr1ncess  @Minksblog @soph69420world  @ameliakf13  

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things s4 #eddie stranger things

[wardenparker]

Small Towns and Second Chances

Steve Murphy x female reader Steel Magnolias AU Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 16.9k Warnings: Mentions of divorce and incarceration, small town gossip dynamics, ‘exotic’  eats, generalized trash talking of Connecticut, reference to reader borrowing clothes from another character, alcohol consumption, references to drug use/addiction, references to previous unhappy/abusive marriage. Steve Murphy is packing I will not accept criticism, public nudity, skinny dipping, oral sex (f receiving), hair pulling, outdoor sex, water sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, public sex.  Summary: Newly retired DEA Agent Steve Murphy returns to his hometown after being served with divorce papers upon his return from Colombia. Unfortunately, his first day back is also the day of his next door neighbor’s wedding. But fortunately - you are there, too. (Loosely follows the plot of the beginning of the film Steel Magnolias. But if you’ve never seen it, don’t worry!) Notes: Utter and total self-indulgence. I watched Steel Magnolias for the first time a while ago and Keri is a criminal enabler when it comes to all things fantasy related - so here we are! 😁❤

Nothing seems to have changed in Evangeline Parish. At least not that Steve can tell. Same storefronts as there had always been in Ville Platte when he had driven through, the windows rolled down and the sweet, slightly sickly scent of blooming flowers flowing through the cab along with the humidity. Same heavy sun beating down on the few that hadn't retreated to the shade while they tried to cool themselves down with whatever could be turned into a fan. Maybe it was insane to want to come back to Louisiana in spring, but after the past six years that he had – all he wanted to do was go home.

Home wasn't in Miami anymore. Maybe it would have been if there hadn't been a manilla envelope of divorce papers sitting on the coffee table when he had shown up at the apartment of his wife and daughter when he had been allowed to come back to the States. Maybe it would have been if the past two years in Colombia hadn't left an indelible mark on his very soul. But there had been, and it had, so he had taken the papers and the keys to the truck that Connie had been good enough to crank up once a week for him and shoved his bags into the passenger seat before he set out for home. Back to Chinquapin, Louisiana.

The screams, chaos, and gunshots coming out of the Eatenton house next door were the kind of cacophony that only a backyard Southern wedding could produce, and the army of different company trucks and employees racing around the property proved it. But the only scream he was looking out for – the best one of the whole batch – came from the twentysomething girl hanging out of the top floor bedroom right in the corner of the big, familiar, clean white house on the corner.

“Steve!” His little sister was hanging out so far that she was practically on the roof, waving frantically at the truck as she watched it pull into the driveway. By the time he parked, he wagered she would be downstairs ready to hug the life out of him. “Mama! Daddy! Steve’s home!”

"Tater!" He grins out the window of his truck as the exuberant expression on her face falls into a scowl that promises an elbow to the gut, and she throws him a rude gesture that would have Mama scolding her. Chuckling when she disappears out the window and he can hear the thundering of her feet down the steps. Another thing that hasn't changed.

“Three brothers and you’re the only one I like except for that dumb ass nickname.” His sister grumps, throwing herself off the stairs to ring her arms around his neck and hug him anyway.

“Tabitha Leigh Murphy, we do not swear in this house.” Their mother frowns in the mud room doorway, but only for effect. She’s overjoyed to have her sweetest tempered child home again, even if the circumstances are a little less than ideal. “Welcome home, sweetheart,” she murmurs, extending open arms to her son. “We missed you.”

"Thanks Ma." Steve wraps his mother up in his arms and sighs. She's shorter than he is, he has to bend down to press his face into her neck like he used to when he was little, but the scent of Revlon Charlie was a staple memory of his childhood. As much as he hates why he is here, he's happy to be home. He's missed the craziness. Flinching when another gunshot blast rings out. "Jesus fucking Christ!" He hisses, pulling away from his mama.

"What did I just say to your sister?" His mother scowls dramatically, smacking his arm before shaking her head. "You barely made it before Shelby Eatenton's wedding, Steven. Go shower and pull out one of those nice suits I know you have packed away. Your sister's got to get over to Miss Truvy's before Shelby and M'Lynn have their appointments. The way Drum Eatenton had been shooting away at the birds all morning it was a wonder that there were even any trees left.”

The way Tater is grinning at him makes him roll his eyes, reaching out and tugging on his sister's hair. "You can go get my bags out of the truck since I have to shower, Tater." He teases, turning and taking the stairs four at a time to get away from her swat.

"Hank!" No amount of scowls from their mother ever keeps the youngest Murphy sibling from hollering through the house, and it wouldn't right now, either. "Tyler! Mama says to come help unload Steve's shit from the truck!" There's work to be done and it can get done a hell of a lot faster if her brothers get involved. No way would she try to get Hank Murphy's precious, dainty wife to do anything helpful, but at least their sister-in-law was behaving herself today. There hadn't been any mean comments about Steve's divorce all morning.

Steve hears a shout from Hank but he doesn't pay much attention, walking down the hall and into the bedroom that hadn't changed since he had gone off to college. Through the door on the side to the Jack-and-Jill he had shared with his oldest brother until he had left for school three years before Steve had.

Piles of boxes are what are left for Steve around his room, and the unmistakable whiff of one of Tyler Murphy's stink bombs left behind as a welcome for his older brother. All four of the Murphy kids had grown up as close as they could, but that meant being as much each other's friendly adversaries as they were confidantes. It was a good way to grow up, even if the brothers had grown apart a little as they got older.

Sighing softly, Steve starts to strip down, knowing that his brothers will bring his bags in by the time he gets out of the shower. They might go through them to make fun of his clothes, but he doesn't give a shit about that.

******

Truvy's Beauty Spot has been a town institution for Tabitha Leigh's entire life, and Miss Truvy Jones herself was probably privy to every single up and down of the Murphy family's life the same way she was privy to everybody else's in town. She'd even dated Miss Truvy's son Louie in high school, for all the good in the world that that did her. Today she's excited, though. Shelby Eatenton was a sort of loose friend all through school just based on the fact that they were next door neighbors, and news of Steve’s arrival would surely be good gossip for Miss Truvy and the other ladies.

"Miss Truvy?" Tabitha Leigh sticks her head in the open door of the Jones house/salon. "I know I'm a little early, but I had to get away from all the chaos. Mr. Eatenton is trying to poke holes in every cloud over Louisiana."

Truvy turns and gives the younger woman a bright smile, her large blonde hair not swaying a bit under her eager nod of agreement. “Come on in honey, I’ll be happy to have the company.” She says.

"Steve's home!" She reports gleefully, galloping in the front door and dropping comfortably into the first styling chair she sees. "Mama's gonna make him come to Shelby's wedding whether he likes it or not and I finally have my favourite brother back again."

"Really?" Truvy’s brow arches and she pauses from tearing some foils for coloring to turn and look at the youngest Murphy child and only girl. "Just last week you were saying Tyler was your favorite because he brought you home a pint of rocky road ice cream."

"No, I said he saved himself from being my least favourite," Tabitha Leigh corrects matter-of-factly. "Now that's Hank, because his wife is a hateful little princess and I—" The only thing that could possibly cut off her diatribe about how much she dislikes her sister-in-law is the appearance of an unknown woman in the doorway, and Tabitha Leigh sits up in the chair with curiosity. "Well, hello. You're new."

"I...yeah. I'm new." Carrying the armful of towels that Miss Truvy asked you to fetch and fold from the dryer, you inch into the doorway and look to your new boss with what you're sure is the same expression that lost puppy dogs have. It is literally your first day of work at Truvy's Beauty Spot and you stumbled into the biggest wedding the town has seen all year. "Miss Truvy, where should I put these?"

"Right over here, honey." Truvy had known you were a timid thing, but she had hoped you would be comfortable around a bunch of women. "Open up that cabinet and just set them right inside. Show her, Tabitha Leigh."

"In here." Tabitha Leigh doesn't even look, just reaches behind her to open the cabinet above her head. "You Judy's replacement?" She asks, wondering how Miss Truvy could have gotten anyone in so fast. "Hell of a day for you to start."

"I'm starting to get that," you laugh quietly, more of a nervous titter that anything else. The other ladies who had started to materialize this morning were older than this young woman, but all of them seemed to be on the same level as far as gossip is concerned. That should make it pretty easy to learn about your new home, thank goodness.

"She'll get the hang of it." Truvy declares with confidence before she turns back to Tabitha Leigh. "So, tell me how Steve's doing?" She demands, turning to check that the curlers are plugged in for when Shelby gets here. "I saw his picture in the paper when the story broke."

"Mama and Daddy are just about as pleased as anything." Tabitha Leigh kicks her feet up on the nearest bit of empty table and leans back comfortably. "He went to Washington and got all kinds of congratulations and even met the president. But..." she glances around, conspiracy written all over her face as the other ladies lean in like moths being beckoned to a flame. "Connie served him with divorce papers as soon as he got back to Miami. So now he's home again, and good riddance to her." Tabitha Leigh may not have exactly disliked Steve's wife, but she and Connie were both strong minded women who didn't quite get along. Now it seemed like the woman had never appreciated her fantastic brother for everything he was worth in the first place, so why bother?

Truvy tuts and shakes her head. "Don't know why she would want to do a fool thing like that." She huffs. "That boy is as handsome as homemade sin."

"Which is much better than store bought sin," Clairee chimes in, shaking a little as she laughs. "I guess we'll all have to dote on Agent Steven Murphy a little at the wedding so he doesn't get glum about things."

"Agent Steven Murphy...like the man in the papers and on tv?" Your head tilts as it pops up from where you were starting to set Miss Clairee's hair in curlers. "The man that caught Pablo Escobar is your brother?"

Tabitha Leigh beams proudly. "Sure is." She hasn't had anyone new in town to tell about her fantastic big brother in ages. "He has some stories to tell and honestly? I couldn't be more proud of him."

"Shit." The mild curse is out of your mouth before you can stop yourself, but a second later your eyes are wide and you're grimacing in your new boss's direction. "I mean shoot. Sorry, Miss Truvy. I just...that's so cool!" You would much rather hear other people's stories than tell your own – having nothing but rough or boring tales to tell of your own life until now. And no one likes to be sad on a wedding day. Any wedding day.

Tabitha Leigh nods in agreement and opens her mouth to talk about her darling big brother some more but Shelby walks in and the women start to crowd around her, asking her questions for a few minutes before Truvy shoos them away and settles the bride into her own chair. "Now, you aren't getting cold feet now, are you honey?" She asks Shelby teasingly, the woman being a few minutes late for her appointment.

"My brothers hid my shoes." Shelby groans, shooting a grin at Tabitha Leigh. No one knows the trials and tribulations of too many brothers the way they do. "So Mama walloped them, which was the highlight of my morning besides the bubble bath."

Truvy laughs and shakes her head. "Boys will be boys." She hums. "And mama's will whoop them." She thinks about her own son. "I walloped mine plenty of times for pulling pranks."

"And who is this?" M'Lynn Eatenton asks in between laughing with the rest of them, gesturing much more gently to you than the other women had.

"The new Judy." Clairee offers you a smile as you set the last curler in her hair. "Although our new friend has a much gentler touch, thank goodness. We've just been acquainting her with all our town news while we get ready for Shelby's big day."

Tabitha Leigh grins and gives you a small shrug. "We aren't always this crazy." She promises with a chuckle.

"Oh, don't lie to the girl," Truvy jokes, picking up a brush and setting to work on Shelby's fantastical updo. "We most certainly are always like this. It's part of our charm to be gossips and secret sharers."

"Well, I'm a veritable vault," you promise, offering the ladies a smile. "All the people I've met so far are the people in this room, so there's no one for me to hear gossip from but you all."

"You should come." Shelby says suddenly, turning to her mama to make sure that she approves. She's not the one who has dealt with the caterer, M'Lynn has. "To my wedding. It'll be a perfect time to meet people."

"Oh, I don't want to impose." The suggestion makes you recoil slightly, looking down at the bride's mother as if she might flinch or roll her eyes or something equally disapproving. "I—I mean that's very kind of you, of course. But I'm not sure I would have anything to wear." It's the best excuse you can come up with at such short notice, not wanting to tell the kind ladies the actual reason that you have no desire to go anywhere near a wedding right now. That would make you the object of plenty of gossip yourself, and the reason you picked up and moved somewhere entirely different was to stop being gossiped about.

"No, you should!" Truvy eyes you up and down and shakes her head. "I'm sure I have a dress that you can borrow."

Shit. Holding in the fact that you feel like a deer caught in the headlights of these ladies' massive car, you plaster a sweet smile on your face and nod. "Well...alright then. If you're sure." You'll go for just a little while, say hello, and then disappear. That will be the best way, you decide. "I'm sure it will be beautiful."

"Of course it will be." Shelby giggles happily as only a blushing bride can. "I'm marrying the perfect man." Her happy grin is soft and every woman sighs slightly, remembering their own weddings.

"It'll be beautiful, darlin," Truvy coos as she works on Shelby's hair. "You're gonna be just the most beautiful bride in the whole world, and you'll never, ever forget your day." She grins salaciously. "Or tonight, if Jackson does his job right."

The hoots and catcalls ring out in the room and Tabitha Leigh grins at the slightly uncomfortable look on M'Lynn's face at the idea of her baby doing that. "Who says he's not already done that job?" She asks, winking at Shelby.

"Did a little bit of it down at the lake after the rehearsal supper last night," Shelby grins, cheeks pink with the admission as the other ladies hoot and holler. For your part, you keep your head down and focus on your task, leaving them to their chatter. Weddings aren't exactly your favourite thing in the world, but Shelby Eatenton seems sweet, and she seems genuinely happy. For her sake, you just hope things stay that way.

“Shelby!” M’Lynn shakes her head at her daughter and gives a small laugh. She can’t blame her; she was the same way the night before her own wedding. “You just wait until you get to the hotel in New Orleans tonight, ya hear?” She warns her playfully. “No coat closets.”

"Alright, mama." Shelby grins, making dubious eye contact with Truvy in the mirror that makes both women snicker playfully. "Cross my heart."

******

Steve was used to being in a suit, he spent plenty of time in them at the Embassy. Stiff, he shuffles slightly in place and looks around, trying to ignore the looks of pity he’s receiving.

You've stayed on the outskirts of things, not getting in the way and simply waving hello to Shelby after you and Miss Truvy arrived to the Eatenton house from the church for the reception. Your boss had found something deep in her closet that you could actually manage to wear and kept you at her side in the church, but now that it's time for a party Miss Truvy seems to be in her element. Since you are much less at ease today, you've tucked yourself under a tree in the backyard to observe from afar, wondering how long you need to stay to be considered polite. There hasn't been a single wedding day that you've enjoyed including your own, so this one was no exception.

Out of everyone here, there seems to be two people who aren’t enjoying the festivities. Steve and the woman that he spots over at another table across the back yard. He doesn’t recognize her and wonders if she’s from Jackson’s side of the family. There’s some of them that he doesn’t recognize. His bottle of beer is nearly warm, sweating, and he could use a conversation that doesn’t involve explaining his divorce, so he decides to abandon his table and start making his way across the grass towards her.

If you had claimed not to notice him, it would have been a dirty lie. Not only did the tall blond man stand head and shoulders above the other guests with his natural height, but he was easily the best looking out of every man here as well. Then there was the fact that you’d seen his face all over the news – but hell, the tv didn’t do him justice. You don’t get to see just how blue those eyes are on a tiny little TV set. It makes it doubly shocking, for you at least, that you didn’t see him approach you. Maybe you were just too caught up in your own memories. Maybe you were too caught up in a daydream. You’re not sure, but either way, you didn’t notice DEA Agent Steve Murphy walking across the yard at you until he was nearly by your side.

The new beers that he had grabbed were in his hand and he sets one on the tall table covered with a snow-white cloth and decorated with some little flower thing in the middle. "You look like me." He observes with a self-deprecating chuckle. "Like you'd rather be at the dentist than this wedding."

“Oh, I—um—” The protest is on the top of your tongue. How weddings are such lovely things. How you feel lucky to be able to celebrate with new acquaintances. But just like the tv didn’t do his looks any justice, it also never got across how warm and magnetic his presence is. He’s got a voice like butter with only the barest trace of an accent left, speaking of years and years away from this place. “I don’t know anyone,” you admit, glancing up at him.

Eager to have a friend in misery, Steve perks up slightly and transfers the beer to his left hand. Wiping the wetness away on his suit trousers, he offers his hand for you to take. "Steve Murphy." He flashes you a grin. "Now you know someone."

Your hand is small in his when you take it, and you give him your name after only a second of flustering. “I know who you are,” you admit, sheepish expression painted over your face even though you won’t tell him that it’s from the news. “I met your sister this morning. Over at Truvy’s.”

He huffs and rolls his eyes. "Whatever Tater told you, it's a lie, okay?" He promises, sure that his baby sister is already causing him trouble. "I did not do half the things she says I did, including cutting off all the heads of her dolls. That was Tyler." He grins and takes a sip of his beer because he had technically kidnapped them for his brother to decapitate but his excuse was that he had been twelve at the time.

The pure and unadulterated sibling-hood is strong, and it makes you grin as you pick up the beer that he set down in front of you. “She did nothing but sing your praises, actually. Favourite brother and so happy you’re home and all that.” You throw him a slightly shady look and smirk. “But Tater is an awful nickname so maybe she was wrong after all.”

"Short for Tater Tot." He gives a small shrug and grins, knowing it's horrible but it does have some bit of reasoning behind it. "When she was a little thing, she loved tater tots and would beg me for mine." He tells you, looking across the yard and spotting his younger sister laughing with Shelby and cooing over her wedding dress. "She would climb up in my lap and eat them off my plate, just singing 'tater tots' over and over."

“And my guess is that she’ll kill you for telling a complete stranger that story.” The first sip of cold beer goes down like cool rain, making you hum happily. “It’s very sweet, though.”

“Probably, but you aren’t a complete stranger now, are you?” He asks, with a grin. It’s nice to commiserate with someone who wasn’t overjoyed at young love. Fuck, he needs to call Peña again.

“I guess not.” He has an easy charm that you’re sure he wielded like a weapon when he was younger, and you could swear that the warmth in your cheeks isn’t from the oppressive heat this time. “Everybody’s been real nice. I’m grateful.”

“Oh, they’re friendly.” He watches as everyone socializes. “Crazy as hell, but friendly. So it’s good to be home.”

“Crazy can be good. Crazy makes life interesting.” You sip your beer again, glancing at his face out of the corner of your eye. God he’s so much more handsome in person…

“So where are you from?” He asks, looking over at you. “Few people choose to move to Chinquapin, Louisiana.

“Last place before this was Alabama.” There had been plenty of places before that, but the last three years wasted in Mobile, Alabama really were wasted, as far as you’re concerned. “Originally? Connecticut.”

Steve nods and wonders what else you’re hiding. You twitched and your response was paused, as if you were making sure you had your story straight. He didn’t think you were some criminal, but the agent in him took notice. “A Yankee huh?” He flashes you a grin. “So how you like it here?”

“It’s a good thing I like summer so much,” you joke, wondering how he can possibly survive the Louisiana humidity in a suit. “And the grub is good. So I figure I’ll stay a while longer.”

“Food is good.” He had missed some homemade Cajun food while he had been in Colombia. “Well, we like to be welcoming, so you stay as long as you like. We’ll end up calling you family.”

That tightens your smile slightly – not having the best associations with family in general can make the idea of even brand-new ties very intimidating. “Thanks,” you murmur, hoping he doesn’t notice.

Steve turns and takes another sip of his beer, wondering again what makes that smile tighten like that. Instead of asking he nods towards the table. “Mrs. Maisy’s catering has the best gator tail and shrimp this side of New Orleans,” he offers.

You laugh before you can stop yourself, obviously thinking he’s joking, but he the expression on his face reads amusement-laced-seriousness. “I’ve never had gator,” you admit, finding his eyes are completely set on you. “Guess I’m gonna have to try it.”

He sends you a wink, happy to have someone not giving him the ‘poor Steve’ speech. Nodding towards the table, he chuckles. “How about now? She’ll run out if we aren’t careful.”

“Sure. Let’s give it a go.” Though you don’t have the faintest idea why he chose to talk to you or why he’s being so nice, you have to admit that you enjoy being around him. It’s probably relieving to have someone who isn’t hounding him for gossip about his divorce or trying to set him up like you’re sure the older ladies are doing, and that makes you the perfect person to be around. You’re brand new – no need for gossip and definitely no desire to talk about marriages. And besides which…something as silly as a wink should not be that sexy. So you’re not about to turn down his company.

Having you with him keeps people from come up and giving him sympathetic speeches about keeping his chin up or he will find someone new, so he keeps you close. Selfish? Maybe. But he likes the way you laugh and he honestly thinks you could use a friend too. “But I have to warn you, watch out for the punch, the menfolk always spike it.” He leans in to whisper in your ear.

“Menfolk, huh?” His breath on your neck makes you shiver a little, as ridiculous as it is, and you find that the way he grins at you when you tease him makes you giddy the way you haven’t felt in years. It’s unnerving and exciting and you don’t know whether to run or beg for more. “Yankee girls don’t grow up on moonshine so maybe I should stay away.”

“All depends on how good of a time you wanna have.” He jokes and his hand rests on your back as he guides you to the tables laden with food.

You really did promise yourself you weren’t going to get involved with another man. Not so soon after everything. This new beginning was supposed to be about you and you alone. Now here you are swooning at the slightest touch like a schoolgirl. “Don’t tempt me.” Is the teasing reply you decide on, half-hoping he’ll leave it at that and half-wondering if he might not.

Steve chuckles and for a moment, he wishes he had a fraction of the charm his old partner had. Javi would have had no problem flirting, but it’s been a long time since he’s done this, he feels a bit wooden. He’s not exactly looking for a relationship, but flirting with a pretty woman always makes a man feel good. “Don’t you know the devil’s in the bayou?” He asks with another wink.

“I’ve heard.” Why does he have to be so fuckin cute? It’s not what you asked for, or what you were looking for, and it’s definitely not what you said you wanted, but here you are practically melting into his side as he stands a touch closer to you waiting for two bowls to be filled with food than he had been standing just a second before. “Guess I must secretly like it, or I wouldn’t have stayed.”

“There’s a magic here.” Steve admits as he looks around at the overgrown oaks that hang heavy with moss. “My mama always said that Chinquapin soothed the soul.”

“Your mama might be right.” You both thank the girl handing out plates and bowls, taking your food away from the chaos just as soon as you get it. There’s a different white-cloth covered table under a different tree open, and this time there are even chairs to sit in. “Connecticut doesn’t really have magic. I think that’s why I left.” Though why you’re talking about it is beyond you. He’s lived a fuller life in the last two years than you have in all of your own, there’s no way you could be interesting enough to keep his attention.

“Maybe it’s just different.” He counters, titling his head as he watches you get set up to eat. He wants to see your reaction to that first bite.

“Maybe.” Very, very different. So different that it stopped affecting you right around the time you hit double digits. When the shiny lens of wonder started to rub off of how you saw the world. Realizing that he’s watching you makes you more than a tiny bit self-conscious, but you know why. The food. So you give him as genuine a smile as you can and fill up a fork full of heavily spiced stewed alligator and shrimp smothered in equally spicy gravy. Cajun food in a nutshell, and actually you’ve found that you love it. “Cheers,” You grin, holding up your fork before taking that big bite all at once – spice and vinegar and something deeply smoky mixed with garlic and onion and…tomato, maybe? Whatever it is, your eyes have practically rolled back in your head as you hum your approval. The alligator tastes more like pork that you would have expected and it’s surprisingly tasty. “Holy shit,” you groan when you’re done with that first bite. “That’s fucking amazing, you weren’t kidding.”

Steve feels his stomach twist at your groan, it’s innocently sexy and that is something he hasn’t thought in a long time. The truth was that Connie left him long before those divorce papers. It was his fault, he changed in Colombia, and now he was trying to find the man he was. He chuckles and takes his own bite. “Isn’t it?” He shakes his head. “When I was eating the best fucking arepas you could ever imagine, I was dreaming of this.”

"Growing up the closest we got to gourmet was a really good hot dog," you joke, leaning to the side a little in your seat instinctively to be closer to him. The chair shifts under you as a matter of course, closing some of the polite distance without you really realizing it. It's just – it's comfortable and giving you a feeling of being warm all the way through that the bayou weather never could. "I mean, Connecticut is a place where they give you pizza with clams on it or a steamed hamburger and call it comfort food. Give me barbecue and real soul food over that any day of the week."

“Steamed hamburgers?” Steve’s eyes widen in horror. “That’s a fuckin’ crime. Has to be.” He’s offended by the mere thought of something like that existing, much less being something people eat.

"It should be, but they exist. And people are even proud of 'em." And right now, eating something as flavorful as you are in the middle of a gorgeous afternoon, that just seems silly. Mystic may have been pretty, but the only thing your little hometown had that Louisiana doesn't is autumn leaves – while Louisiana has so very much more. It's like a whole new world for you to explore, which was part of the reason that you came here in the first place. "This is so much better," you hum, motioning to your almost empty bowl.

“Ate more than you thought you would, didntcha?” He teases, his own spoon eagerly scrapping the bowl for the last mouthful. “Now we gotta talk about the beignets.”

"You're gonna have to roll me back to Mrs. Robeline's Boarding House if you keep feeding me." The soft groan you aim at him is half-hearted though, because you already know you love beignets. They were the very first thing you sought out to eat when you got to New Orleans and they're a happy memory because of it.

“You’re livin’ there?” He lifts a brow in surprise. “She still make everyone be in by eight o’clock and no male visitors beyond the parlor?”

"It was what I could find on short notice." You shrug a little, sitting back in your chair now that your bowl is all but licked clean. "It's not so bad. At least the place is clean, and I have my own bathroom. That's more than some of the other places could offer."

“I’ll keep an eye out for places that you can have to yourself.” Steve promises and looks around the yard again. The dance floor that’s been set up and there are couples starting to drift onto it. He doesn’t want to watch cutting the cake or try to catch that damn garter. “You wanna get out of here?” He asks suddenly. “Get away from all this?”

If you knew what reason he had for being so nice to you - what possible motivation he could have or what he wants from you - you might be wary of the question. As it stands, it’s seems like you’re just the two loneliest people at the wedding and neither of you wants to be here. The idea of escape rolls through you like freedom and relief, and you set your now empty beer bottle back on the table and nod. “I—yeah. Everybody’s really nice, but weddings aren’t my thing.”

“Good.” Steve immediately sets his bottle down and stands. “My truck shouldn’t be blocked in. We can sneak over there and get out of here. Did you drive?”

“I don’t have a car,” you admit quietly, knowing that walking the length of the town every day to get from the boarding house to Miss Truvy’s salon was going to get old very fast. You didn’t exactly have a choice, though.

He doesn’t comment on it, knowing that you wouldn’t appreciate it. He can tell you are here ‘starting over’. The only difference between the two of you is that his family is here to help and you are apparently alone. Instead of making you feel bad, he shoots you a grin. “How about I show you all the best spots in Chinquapin?”

“Do you think Miss Truvy will be upset if I sneak off with saying goodbye?” The last thing you want to do is upset your boss - especially when she drove the two of you here and you’re wearing her borrowed dress. But good god you are dying to be anywhere but here. Especially with him.

“Nah.” He shakes his head with certainty. “Miss Truvy won’t mind at all. But I’ll leave a note on her car if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Today was my first day,” you explain, shrugging apologetically. “She’s so nice, and I don’t want to upset her at all.”

“Note it is.” Steve agrees easily. He would agree to near about anything right now to get away from that wedding party. All he can think about is his own now botched marriage and he’s tired of it all.

It’s like a stealth escape out of a caper movie, and you’re not entirely sure if he’s exaggerating any of it to amuse you or if he’s just gone into impressive government agent mode. Either way he’s sweeping up across two yards within seconds of setting the note under Miss Truvy’s husband’s truck windshield wiper, leading to the two of you snickering wildly when you can hear his mother start to look for him right before you reach his truck.

"Shit." Steve's eyes widen and he hurriedly opens your door to let you hop up into the passenger seat. "We need to leave now or I'll be roped into talking about God knows what with Great Aunt Sally."

"Go, go, go!" The whispered hiss comes with giggles, and you're throwing on your seatbelt as he hustles around the hood of the truck to hop behind the wheel as quickly as possible.

The engine roars to life with a quick turn of the key and Steve quickly throws it into reverse, acting like he's about to start chasing sicarios as he screeches out of the driveway. Your laughter is worth the bit of silly and his own heart is lighter for it.

"So where to?" You ask, as he peels off down the road in the opposite direction of the wedding. The area doesn't exactly have a lot of tourist attractions, but he grew up here. He'll know the hidden gems for what they're really worth.

"How 'bout I show you exactly where to go to get good food, good liquor and the best damn swimming hole in all of Evangaline Parish?" Steve asks, lifting a brow in your direction. He hadn't really thought this through beyond leaving the wedding, but you are new to the area, so he figures giving you the tour is the proper thing to do.

"Sounds good to me." The streets pass by easily, and with your windows rolled down the mid-afternoon hubbub of downtown is a dim soundtrack for the occasional joke or tease in the cab of his truck. You get along easily - effortlessly - and something about it makes you both annoyed with yourself for the obvious way your guard is starting to come down and infinitely more relaxed than you have felt in years because of it.

"So, besides your normal desserts, Ida's makes the best damn milkshake you've ever tasted in your life. And her pecan pie is to die for." He nods as he sees the shop in the distance. "Wanna get some for the tour?"

"If we were just wandering, I'd say we should pick up a flask of bourbon and have grown up milkshakes." Alcoholic milkshakes were a treat that an old landlady has introduced you to years and years ago, and you absolutely loved the combination of creamy sweetness with the cut of smoky liquor running through it.

"That sounds like a plan." He quickly agrees and slows the truck down so he pull into an empty parking spot in front of the small shop. "The bourbon will be better coming from 'ol Jackson's near the river."

“Ol Jackson’s it is.” You agree easily. Downtown is exactly the kind of quaint you have come to expect from the Deep South, with old store fronts and almost-as-old men sitting out front of some of them smoking and cavorting. Ida’s is a neat little building painted white and decorated with a pretty blue-and-yellow painted sign above the entrance. Everything about it is tidy, even the trade of laughing old me with a pair of ladies still in their Sunday best sipping sweet tea and happily chattering over slices of Cajun cake.

Steve waits until you join him on the sidewalk for you before he guides you into the store. "Now are you a chocolate kind of girl or vanilla?" He asks, as if its the most important question in the world.

"Depends on what it is." The pastry cases are full of every goodie you can possibly think of, and the big machines behind the counters that spin milkshakes are happily buzzing. With only a small ice cream case in one corner, you figure this is definitely a quality over quantity situation and that sounds like heaven. "Usually vanilla. Nothing is quite as good as vanilla and cinnamon together, though."

"So you should choose number four." He tells you seriously, pointing to the menu hanging above the milkshake station. "It's vanilla with a slice of cinnamon crumb cake mixed in. Everything is homemade, by the way."

"This place is heaven," you grin, breathing in the smell of fresh cakes and pastries. If the fact that you have smiled more this afternoon than you have in the last nine months is a factor, your cheeks will be sore for hours, but you can't bring yourself to care. It's a miracle to feel this free again.

"That what you want?" He asks, waiting for your nod before he walks up to the counter. "See me? I'm gonna go with the chocolate with the devil’s food cake mixed in." He tells with a grin. "It's sinful."

"So much for pecan pie." Amused that you both abandoned the classic in favor of comfort choices, you nudge him a little with your arm. "But I have a feeling I'm gonna be coming here any time I have a few dollars to spare."

"It's addictive." He agrees as Ida comes out of the back, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Steven Murphy!" She grins, giving him a motherly scold. "I'd heard you were coming back. When did you get in?"

"Today." That makes her chuckle, no doubt amused with the fact that he had been in town for less than twenty-four hours and he was already darkening her doorway.

"Well, what can I get for you hun?" She asks, turning to smile at you with a curious gleam to her eyes. You aren't the former Mrs. Steve Murphy, she had recognized her from the few visits they had made to Chinquapin as a couple years ago, but you were obviously with Steve for this visit and she doesn't recall seeing you around town.

Steve orders for both of you and makes a face when you try to offer him a few dollars from your purse, and you roll your eyes good naturedly. You didn't figure he would let you pay, but offering is the least you could do. If you closed your eyes and dreamed, you could pretend this was a date. Casual and comfortable, two people who have found each other and grown fond of each other and kept each other company through the ups and downs of life. Which would be a hell of a lot more romantic than your last relationship. Your marriage.

The sounds of the milkshake being made are comforting, a sound of his childhood. He looks around and tries to see what it would look like through a newcomer’s eyes. "The sandwiches are good here too." He promises you. "Especially the Thanksgiving special."

"You are gonna have to roll me back home." You laugh, looking up at him beside you. "I guess we'll have to come back another time." The we is slightly presumptuous, but you want him to be enjoying this as much as you are.

Steve grins and wonders if it was a slip of the tongue or a soft hint that you would like that. The idea that it was a hint makes him shift to stand a little straighter. "We can do that." He turns when Ida sets the milkshakes on the counter and reaches out for them. "Thank you ma'am." He nods towards the woman who has seen him in her shop since he was in diapers.

"Anything for my new favourite deputy." She grins, nodding at the much taller, much younger man. Gossip moves fast in their little town and everybody who knew Steve Murphy was coming home also knew what he would be up to when he got here. There were whispers about his wife, and it seemed like they were true after all. Shame.

Steve can feel the question in your eyes as the two of you exit the shop. He sighs and gives a small shrug of his shoulders as he hands you the vanilla milkshake. "I was working for the feds for awhile, but that's done so I came home." He explains. "Being a sheriff's deputy will keep me from going insane with boredom."

"I—" You hesitate again, but decide to just shrug it off. You would rather not start this friendship - or whatever it is - out on a lie. "I know who you are," you tell him finally, as you both climb back into his truck. "I've seen you; I mean. On TV and in the papers. I just...didn't know you were from here until I met your sister this morning."

"Oh." He chuckles and shakes his head. "I guess there's no escaping it when it was in the papers, huh?" He asks with a roll of his eyes. "At least it was just my career on display."

"What you did made a lot of people's lives safer again. Better. It's nothing to shrug off, Steve." He turns over the engine and pulls out into the empty street again, going through the automatic motions like he could drive the entire town in his sleep. He probably could. "People all over the world are better off now than they were when that monster was alive. And that is thanks to you."

He could tell you that the number of kilos of cocaine entering the U.S. hasn't slowed down. In fact, more cocaine is coming in than before. He doesn't though. The tone of your voice makes him think that it's something personal for you. "Who was it?" He asks softly, expecting that you lost someone to drugs.

"Um..." You swallow, eyes drifting away from him to stare out the windshield. "My husband. Ex-husband. He's in prison, thank god. Just...please...Miss Truvy doesn't know. I didn't know if she would hire someone with a past."

His brow wings up, both surprised that you have a husband in prison and that you think that he would tell someone else's story. He shakes his head. "Not my place to say a word." He hums. "Besides, your ex-husband isn't you."

“He was a bastard, and I never should have married him.” That, at least, is the dead honest truth. But at least you’re free of him now, which is more than you thought you would ever live to say. Huffing slightly at yourself, you watch the road go by out the front window for a moment. “Anyway. Liquor store and swimming hole, right?”

"Right." He can tell you want to change the subject, so he does just that. Making a left at the only stoplight in town and humming at the sight of the magnolia tree blooming in front of the small city hall.

The drive is now transformed to an awkward silence, and you wish you had never said a fucking thing. It’s too late for that, obviously, but it has been so nice until now. The sight of the liquor store is almost a blessing at this point, as you severely hope that a little relaxation will make things less weird again.

Putting the truck in park, Steve turns to you. "Don't worry about it." He comments softly. "Hell, everyone in town is talking about how my wife divorced me on the heels of catching Escobar, so your issues won't even be a blip on the radar."

“We were just the two worst people to invite to a wedding, weren’t we?” It’s almost comical in a way. Or it would be if you both weren’t so obviously hurt by your former spouses.

Steve barks out a laugh, throwing his head back in relief that you aren't upset and nods quickly. "Yes, we were." He agrees easily and jerks his head towards the liquor store. "Come on, let's go get that bourbon you want."

Hopping out of the car right after him, you snort and shake your head. “You can’t tell me you don’t want a stiff drink after blush and bashful.” You roll your eyes, thinking of the huge deal Shelby had made over her wedding colours being two barely distinguishable shades of pink.

"I don't know what the fuck those colors are." He admits with another laugh and strides to the door to open it for you. "The colors for my wedding were...." He chuckles. "Fuck, I don't even know. Some kind of green and blue."

“Pink and pink, Steve. They were pink and pink.” It’s good to laugh with him, the feeling of comfort rolling back through you. “I barely even had a wedding. Just the courthouse with some flowers from the grocery store and a low country boil for dinner.” Unbelievably, though, that last bit does make you smile. “At least the food was good.”

"Only reason we did a wedding was because my mama would have killed us." Steve admits with a chuckle. "Wouldn't have minded the courthouse."

“I don’t think I would have minded if he had just asked.” Inside the liquor store is cram-jam full from floor to ceiling with every kind of bottle you can imagine and two men playing cards who pay you and Steve no mind. “I should have seen the warning sign from miles away.”

"Easy to ignore." Steve admits, knowing that he had ignored the warning signs that Connie was unhappy.

“It’s done with now.” And good riddance. Cocaine had turned a careless man into a monster, and you survived it. That’s all that matters now. “I just— I’m sorry you had to go through your own. You seem like a very sweet guy.”

"I'm not." He promises, his jaw clenching slightly in self-reflection. "I've got my own demons, but I'm trying." He had witnessed the darkness in him, it almost threatened to ruin his career until Javi went to bat for him. He just needed to make sure that darkness was caged.

“That’s all you can do, really.” The back wall is covered in whiskey and bourbon bottles, all different labels and few that you recognize. “We don’t have to…” you hesitate, glancing over at him. “If it’s not going to be good for you, we can skip it.” Whatever his demons are, they’re his and he doesn’t owe you an explanation. But you also don’t want to push him toward them accidentally.

"Nahhhhh." He shoots you a smirk and shrugs. "You aren't snorting coke in front of a DEA agent." He jokes.

“Former DEA agent.” Trying for a cheery smile, you shrug again. “I’ll never touch that shit. It turns people into shadows and monsters. Booze just makes me giggly and a little cuddly. And I can rein that in, ya know? Cocaine just…it’s unstoppable.”

"It's good to steer clear of that shit." He shakes his head. "Never understand why people want to snort shit up their noses that's made with gasoline."

“I guess it just depends on how badly you’re hurting, and how badly you want to stop hurting.” Plucking a small bottle of Statesman Reserve from the shelf, you hold it up for him to inspect. “It’s on me, but it will have to go home with you if we don’t finish it. No male guests past the parlor and no liquor of premises,” you recite the boarding house rules mockingly.

Steve snorts and shoots you a grin. "I'll save it for the next time, how about that? That way we can always have boozy milkshakes."

“You’re teasing me, but you’re going to love it.” That grin is going to make you more flustered than you’ve been in a long time, you can’t help it.

"Oh, I don't doubt it." He takes the bottle from you and turns it around to look at the label. "Statesman, huh? Don't think I've heard of this."

“Bourbon of choice for ‘Bama sorority girls.” You laugh, entirely at your own expense, and nod at the bottle - and maybe the memories, too. “It’s good, I promise.”

"Well hell, gotta try it." He draws and looks around. "Anything else you want a nip of?"

“I’m easy.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them and you chuckle. “I mean— you know what I mean.”

"Suuuuuuure." His wink is pure teasing and he loves the way you fluster slightly and look around the shop again. "That's exactly what you meant." He doesn't know why it seems so easy with you, but it does.

Rolling your eyes heavily is purely for dramatic effect, and you pluck the bottle out of his hands with a laugh. “C’mon, Steve, the milkshakes are waiting.”

"Yeah, yeah." He doesn't protest when you pay for the bourbon, even though he wants to. It's just ingrained in him that the man pays but he knows a lot of women don't think that way anymore.

******

The swimming hole, apparently, is barely two more minutes away. Steve steers the truck down to the bottom of a hill and around a vacant lot until the road runs out, and then the two of you get out and walk until a thin wall of trees gives way to a sizeable little pond hidden away from prying eyes. It's stunning - an absolutely gorgeous sight that literally takes your breath away when he steps aside to show you the view. "It's beautiful..."

"Good news is that there're rarely gators in here." He informs you. "It's something about the mineral content in the water or some such thing." He gives a small shrug. "Never really paid attention to the way, just happy I wasn't going to get rolled when I went swimmin'."

"Their loss." It's a gorgeous spot and you feel just a little spoiled that he chose to share it with you. "And more fun for us."

Steve sits down on a pile of rocks near the water and pulls the lid off his milkshake. "Ready to booze it up?" He asks playfully as he tilts it back to drink some to make room for the bourbon.

"Yes, please." Kicking off your heels lets you drop down onto the rocks beside him much more easily, and you're careful not to spill a single drop on your borrowed dress as you take the first sips of your milkshake. The creamy, spicy, floral, sticky sweet drink is as cooling as it is delicious, and you giggle happily at the first taste. "Oh god, Ida's never gonna get me out of that place. This is amazing."

"Swear if I didn't leave for college and the DEA I would have lived in that shop." He agrees as he takes another sip and then sets it down to open the bottle of bourbon to add to it.

"I don't blame you." He pours indiscriminately, filling each drink to the tip top of their cups while you dip your toes in the water. "If I had grown up here, I might never have left."

He snorts, chuckling softly. "Maybe, but I needed to leave." He tells you as he mixes the alcohol into the milkshake.

"Everyone has a different journey." The smoky richness of Statesmen Reserve has flavour tones that compliment your vanilla and cinnamon milkshake perfectly, and once again you're moaning softly over your food. "Sorry," you laugh, shooting him a grin. "I'm not one of those salad-and-water-only girls living on fad diets. I love food."

"I don't mind that a bit." He promises. "I don't think I've ever really paid attention, but my ex would easily out eat me on a good day." He laughs.

Your eyes widen for a second, obviously mishearing him and catching 'eat me out' instead of 'out eat me'. "Oh...uh..." You clear your throat, finally figuring out that you heard him wrong and feeling like a flustered moron with a one-track mind. "Cool. That's...that's good."

He doesn't know why your voice changes for a moment, making him turn to look at you curiously for a second before he shrugs it off. "Do you want to try mine?" He asks, offering you the chocolate extravaganza he had chosen.

"Sure." Yeah...because wrapping your lips around anything of his right now isn't setting your brain off into wildly inappropriate places. You trade him for your drink because sharing is caring, and hum happily at the deeply unctuous chocolatey flavour. "You can't go wrong with ice cream and booze."

"I'm learning." Steve licks his lips are a bit of your milkshake gets into his mustache. "It might change the way I get drunk." He jokes, watching your eyes close in pleasure while you tip back his cup.

"Drinking should be fun." You contend, handing him back his cup a second later. "Doing it on your own and moping when the bottle is empty is not fun."

"Done plenty of that." He lifts the milkshake up in toast. "Especially when...well, there was plenty of reasons to drink alone towards the end."

"To new beginnings, then." Holding your cup up to his, you offer him what you hope is a smile as warm and encouraging as you feel in this moment. "For both of us."

"To new beginnings." Steve grins and touches his paper cup to yours as if it’s the finest china and takes a sip of his milkshake.

As the sun starts to go down, lightning bugs and chirping crickets become the backdrop for your little getaway. It's a Saturday night in a usually quiet town where you have intentionally abandoned the place where all of your neighbors are congregating, and the temperature is slowly dropping along with the sun. It leaves the sky streaked with pinks and oranges and purples in a way that could easily be characterized as romantic if you let yourself think about it that way.

He might have poured too much bourbon in the cups, his entire body warming up pleasantly and he relaxes for the first time since he arrived in the States. His divorce is literally days old, the ink barely dry on the judge's signature and yet, right now, he feels like he's on a date. He looks out at the water and grins, standing up and stripping off his suit jacket. "Wanna go for a swim?" He asks as he kicks off his shoes.

Your eyes flick up to him from where they had been focused on your drink, sucking every last bit of delicious alcoholic creaminess up through the wide straw. He has already tossed his jacket and tie down and is toeing off his shoes, starting to unbutton the sleeves of his shirt at the same time. Pure mischief is painted across his handsome face and the familiar buzzing of Statesman in your system makes you bold. Sure it’s the same kind of boldness that got you into a bit of trouble back in college, but it was always fun trouble. “You wanna skinny dip?” The question makes you giggle a little, and even without an answer you already know you’re going to do it. When was the last time you felt so fucking free? Years, at least.

He had meant to keep his briefs on, allowing you to stay in your bra and panties for modesty, but since you are bringing it up? Hell yeah. He chuckles and unzips his pants. "If you want I'll close my eyes and turn around." He teases.

What he doesn't realize is that the underwear you have on will be so sheer if you jump in wearing it that you might as well be naked, and that skinny dipping was a favourite bit of mischief back when you used to get into mischief more often. "Just gotta be careful with Miss Truvy's dress," you mumble, not finding the clasp or zipper buried deep in the dusty pink coloured velvet.

"Do you need some help?" He wouldn't be a gentleman if he didn't offer, turning towards you while he's in just the white briefs he had worn under his suit. This was the wildest thing he had done in a while that didn't involve guns or criminals and he was actually enjoying it.

"I found the tie." There was a decorative cord at the back of your neck that had confused your tipsy brain because you didn't wear a necklace!, and you had to giggle at yourself. "Can't find the zipper."

Steve approaches gently, knowing that he doesn't want to seem too eager to get you out of your clothes. That wouldn't be very proper. Instead, he studies the dress from the back, an expect from helping Connie with hers. "It's on the side, sweetheart." He hums, reaching for the tiny little zipper for the dress.

"Oh." That earns a more animated giggle and you huff at yourself playfully, even as you raise your arm automatically for him to help. "That explains it."

"Never understood why they would put the zippers in the most inconvenient places." He murmurs, his breath washing over the back of your neck. "Then I realized it was to make taking off the dress more fun."

"You having fun, Steve?" You are. You definitely are. There's something giddy in the air tonight that you can't deny and it's only half to do with the man whose large hands are carefully peeling you out of a borrowed dress.

"Bourbon, a pretty girl and my favorite swimming hole?" He hums, his voice teasing and playful. "I'm having a lot of fun." Especially if you are. He's not a dummy. He knows you are attracted to him. He's not big headed about it, but plenty of women hit on him while he was with Connie, but he hadn't done anything about it. Now, that wedding band was just a suntan mark on his hand.

"I am, too." A shy smile creeps across your face as the dress comes down your shoulders, fairly confident that Steve is getting an eyeful of the lace bra you have on underneath. Now he sees why it wouldn't be worth it to keep anything on in the water. It isn't arrogance to think that he might reciprocate your attraction, but you're also not expecting him to act on it in any way. Not when he's so recently divorced and everything. "Go on and jump in," you encourage, nudging him slightly. "I'll be in, in a second."

He takes that as a hint that you want a touch of privacy while you strip down and he's going to oblige you. Doesn't mean he has to be shy. Instead, Steve pulls his briefs down right there, stepping around you and striding towards the swimming hole while he gains momentum and does exactly what you tell him to, he jumps in with a loud 'Wahooo' before he hits the water.

"Fuck..." Barely audible under your breath, you shake your head a little in amusement at the way your heartrate spiked at him passing - completely naked - in front of you for just a split second on his way to the water. At least he doesn't have the world's biggest dick or anything. You think to yourself, dropping your bra and panties beside your dress and anchoring them with a small rock so the wind doesn't take them away as you turn to slip into the water. That would just make the ache slowly building between your legs even worse.

Steve sputters slightly as he comes back to the surface, laughing and swiping his hair back as he flicks the water out of his eyes but he doesn't open them. "You in?" He calls out, turning towards the shore and kicking his legs to stay afloat.

"Yeah, I'm in." You had opted to climb down the rocks and jump from a much lower height, not making as much of a ruckus when you did. Now you're only a few feet away. The water is warm and laps at your skin gently, making the whole idea as relaxing as it is fun.

He grins and opens his eyes, looking around before he spots you. "Fun, isn't it?" He chuckles.

"Thanks for showing me." With the sun fully set the water is nearly opaque, but that doesn't keep you from feeling the water churn as he lazily kicks next to you or finding his bright blue eyes in the moonlight.

His grin makes only half his mouth move, nodding slightly as he treads a little closer to you. "My pleasure." He hums. "It’s not every day you get to go skinny dipping with a pretty girl."

"I'll have to try it sometime." Teasing him is too easy, and the warmth of having him come closer in the water is overwhelming in the very best way. "Find myself a pretty girl and bring her out here to see what it feels like.”

Steve chuckles, lifting at brow at the thought. "Can I come too?" He asks, teasing you right back.

"I mean, I guess." You huff dramatically, as though he has made a life-or-death request. He's closer to you without feeling like he's prowling and you swear your skin will light on fire if he ever reaches out and touches you like this. "It's gonna be harder to find a girl who likes both of us, but we could do it."

"Hmmm." He snickers softly and edges slightly closer. The entire conversation has made something decide that it wants to make an appearance. Steve Murphy is a grower. "I could always just watch." He concedes, circling around you slowly to where he is behind you, just in case he bumps into you. Better to have his erection press against your ass or thigh than your belly since he doesn't know how you are feeling right now.

The second he can't see your face, your eyes close and your face screws up in momentary concentration as you try to will your body to calm the fuck down. The man is barely divorced - he doesn't need the new girl in town jumping him hours after meeting. Although, he wouldn't be flirting or skinny dipping with you unless he wanted to be, the voice in the back of your head reasons. "But that's not as much—" Your eyes pop open a second later when you're certain you felt him touch your hip - but his hands are both on the surface of the water and he can't be that close to you and – Oh shit...that was definitely...apparently he does have the world's biggest dick after all. "Not as much fun," you finish, swallowing thickly.

"No, it wouldn't be." He can agree to that, in this hypothetical fantasy of yours. "So guess we better start looking huh?" He is enjoying the way that you seem to be breathing harder, obviously turned on as well.

Looking over your shoulder brings you eye level with him in the water, and you would be clenching your fists at your sides if you weren't using them to stay afloat right now. "I guess so." You murmur, finding him watching you with a pleased smile tucked up in the corner of his mouth.

"Ooooorrrr." Steve draws out, deciding to breach the chasm between the two of you and use one arm to grab your hip and steer you back into his chest. "I can keep the pretty girl I have right here to myself." He huffs into your ear. "I'm liking that option."

"Shit." You practically whimper at the strength of the act, not dominating in any way but somehow still making you feel as light as a feather in his arms. With your back to his chest and his hand spanning more of your hip and belly that you thought one hand ever possibly could, you tip your head back to rest on his shoulder. "I—I didn't, I mean—" Breathe, you idiot. "This wasn't a scheme or anything. Just so you know."

"Hmmmm, I know." He brushes his lips against your ear before he kisses your neck. "I was the one who suggested this." He reminds you with a grin. "Although there was a little scheming on my part. Or maybe hoping's a better word."

"Hoping, huh?" Squirming slightly against him just ends up - unintentionally, you swear - grinding your ass against his hard length. That feeling right there is the last crack in your resolve, and you twist around to wrap both arms around his shoulders as you face him. "Jesus, Steve. You're gonna kill me."

He huffs, even as he grins. "What does that mean?" He asks teasingly. He doesn't think you are talking about him literally killing you, but he wasn’t boastful.

"It means I thought you were hot seeing you on TV, but apparently the real you is even sexier," you admit, right before crushing your lips to his without any further hesitation.

It's been a long time since Steve has kissed anyone else, but in the ranking of kisses - it’s up there. Your lips are soft and yet your kiss is determined. You kiss him like you want him and that is something that turns him on. His tongue slides into your mouth quickly when you open for him, and he loves the way you moan into his mouth.

He tastes like chocolate and whiskey and something you can't put your finger on, and the way he drags you against him with one arm only encourages you to wrap one leg around his waist in an effort to get as close as possible while still staying afloat. There is no way in the world that you could have predicted how good this moment would feel, but now that it's here you would happily live in it forever.

Steve hums into your kiss, enjoying how easily the two of you seem to slide together so naturally. Deepening the kiss and closing his eyes, he feels his body respond to the feeling of your heated core pressed against his cock.

"Fuck." At a certain point you just have to come up for air, as much as you wish you didn't. The way your heart is threatening to beat out of your chest is better than anything you've felt in years and even better is the feeling of his hard length slipping against your folds.

"If we need to stop—" Steve stops to kiss along your jaw. "Let me know." He doesn't want to push; this is the first day you've met after all. You might not be ready or willing to go any farther than this, and he's okay with that.

"Do you want to stop?" The sincerity in his voice is genuine, you can tell that much, but it brings out the concern in your own as you find his eyes in the dark again. You didn't exactly talk about this possibility, or anything near it, and you don't want to push him. But you will be honest. "'Cause I don't, but we both have to want...whatever this is."

He laughs at the ridiculousness of you believing he wants to stop. “Does this feel like I want to stop?” He asks, grinding against you slowly.

It earns him a whimper from your lips and your eyes flutter shut of their own accord. "Just trying to be considerate," you mumble, clinging to him a little tighter. Your hips are already rolling slow circles along with his. "I-I'm safe. On the pill, I mean."

“I— it’s been a long time.” Steven admits breathlessly, thinking about the last time he was with Connie. “I—I’ve been tested. I’m clean.”

“Then…” Nipping at his neck, you grin at the glancing thought that it wouldn’t take much effort at all to leave a mark in his skin. “I don’t see why we shouldn’t have some fun.”

“Yeah?” He grins as he pulls back to search your eyes, making sure there’s no hesitation on your part.

“Yeah.” You bite your lip, nodding and reveling in the way he looks both delighted and maybe a little surprised. Like he can’t believe you want him. “Absolutely.”

He starts to guide you towards the rocks, wanting to have you close to them. It’s hard to fuck in open water and he wants to make sure that you enjoy yourself.

With the moon out and the lightning bugs and the soft noises of the valley at night, it almost feels like a fairy tale. A very adult one, obviously, as the two of you return to hungrily kissing the life out of each other as quickly as possible, but there’s no mistaking the element of romance even as your back presses against the edge of the watering hole. Rocks will keep you steady, giving him something to hold on to, and you lift your other leg up around his hip easily now that you have a little leverage, too.

His hands move into less appropriate places and he squeezes your ass. “You gonna let me fuck you?” He asks, pulling away from your mouth to start kissing down your chest.

“Was thinkin’ I might.” You groan softly, chuckling interrupted by a gasp when the tip of his tongue flicks one of your nipples experimentally. “As long as you actually know how to use that cock and don’t just parade it around.”

He chuckles and looks up at you, a hank of his wet hair falling over one eye. “Only one way for you to find out.” He coos before he wraps his lips around the nipple and tugs on it.

Thankfully you manage to remember that there are rocks behind you about half a second before you throw your head back in pleasure, the keening sound that escapes your lips being plenty loud enough to make up for it as you thread your fingers through his wet hair and encourage him to explore. If you could manage it you would have your eager fingers wrapped around his cock to find out exactly what kind of pressure and how fast or slow he likes it stroked, but like this it’s much more fun to grind your hips down and listen to him moan against your tits like he’s trying to suck your wildly beating heart out directly through your chest.

It’s been a long time since he’s made out with anyone in this swimming hole, not that you’re exactly ‘making out’. It’s gone beyond that as he suckles and bites on your breast while he pulls your hips down on his cock. He’s fucking aching already and it’s not like you’ve been teasing him for long, maybe it’s because he knows how reserved you had been just hours ago.

If the thought of doing something so intimate in such a public place ever would have bothered you, it isn’t even crossing your mind now. Messing around - fully naked - on town property is probably something he would be arresting teens for when he puts that deputy’s uniform on, but right now it’s glorious. Right now it’s only the whine of his name from your lips and the rolling insistence of your hips in the moonlight, and you can’t remember the last time anything felt so good.

Steve chuckles and switches over to your other breast. “Impatient.” He chides, grinning at the enthusiasm you are displaying for him. “So you don’t want to wait anymore?” He asks after he flicks his tongue over your nipple. “You want it now?”

The idea that there could be anything besides sex makes you pause, and there’s a flash of confusion on your face that you can’t hide. A three-year marriage to a man who saw you first and foremost as a means to provide pleasure for himself has clearly warped your expectations. “Want to make you feel good,” is what you go with when you get your mind back, hoping desperately that he didn’t notice anything.

He grunts, picking up on the momentary confusion and he doesn't want to make it a big deal - but he does want to make sure that you know that he operates different from whoever the selfish asshole you were married to was. "You know what I want?" He asks, moving you closer to the rocks. "I want to lick your pussy." He groans. "It's been a long time since I've been able to eat a woman out, will you let me?"

“You want to—?” The way desire has made his eyes nearly black is obvious even in the moonlight, and you can think of a single reason in the world he would lie about wanting it, so you nod and shift back against the rocks, hoping you can lift yourself up on them reasonably easily. “Whatever you want, handsome.”

He wonders when the last time a man had you like this. That he knelt down before you and buried his face in your glistening sex just for the pleasure of knowing that he made you cry out. You seem surprised that he would want to taste you. Connie had loved his penchant for oral, and his eagerness had made it to where her own want for reciprocation hadn't waned until things had gotten beyond salvaging between them. Shaking that thought off, his ex didn't belong in this moment, he hums and watching you lift your pussy above the waterline, and he slides between your legs as they spread wide.

You almost lose your balance as soon as you find it, but his broad shoulders and strong grip keep you steady, holding you up on the edge of the rock that you have perched yourself on just above the water line. There is nothing tentative in the way Steve moves and yet none of it is demanding, and it's an intoxicating combination that all comes down to want. He wants you, and he's going to have you, and you know without a doubt that you're going to enjoy every second of it.

He’s not as quick to just dive right in, there’s something in your surprise that makes him go slower. Not that he isn’t determined, instead he starts at your knees, kissing both and working higher, brushing your sensitive inner flesh with his mustache as he scatters kisses over your skin. Giving you time to anticipate and to cry off if you want.

He's slow and almost reverent, taking his time mapping every inch of your skin in the warmth and moonlight. The impulse to thread your fingers through that mass of wet hair is definitely there but you resist, balancing yourself carefully and letting him do whatever it is he's going to do since you're already sure that it will have you in a whimpering state of pure indulgence in no time. At least, everything else has so far, so why not this too?

He hovers over you when he reaches the juncture of your thighs. Looking up at you as if waiting for some kind of challenge, he flashes you a wink before he lowers his mouth to your cunt.

"Holy shit!" Your head drops back almost instantly, eyes shutting as you grip the rock beneath you even more desperately. There is no question about it, once he's started - Steve Murphy eats pussy with passion. There is no hesitation in his movements, only hunger, and you swear he must have a tongue as long as his cock for the incredible way he's devouring you as you try not to cry out in the warm night.

God, it’s been so long since he’s had this. His hands grip your thighs, urging you to use his shoulders as a prop and allow him more access. Groaning as he licks through your folds and discovers your flavor, the way you like to be eaten.

Even if you could lay back like this - give him all the access to every inch of you that you could - you wouldn't. Maybe it's selfish, but you want to be able to watch. When your eyes flutter open again he is completely absorbed in you and it might be the most intoxicating thing you have ever experienced in your entire life.

Steve's eyes flutter closed in pleasure as he pushes his tongue inside you. Moaning at how your walls seems to curl around his tongue and pulse with your excitement. His fingers dig into your flesh and he tugs you closer as he leans in, eager for more, inhaling your scent as he tries to drown himself in your sex.

The movement is inelegant, as dragging you closer to him makes you jolt and shriek slightly in halted pleasure and one of your hands digs into his hair to keep you steady. When he groans at the sudden, sharp sensation of having his hair pulled you echo the noise almost immediately, giving the strands another light tug of encouragement and angling your hips forward to fully surrender to anything and everything he has to give you.

He feels the moment your entire body sags and he chuckles into your folds. Flicking his tongue over your clit and swirling it around before he pulls it into his mouth to suck on as you start to grind down against him. Wondering if you even realize you are doing it.

It's heaven. Absolute bliss like you haven't experienced in years. Maybe longer, although that thought is so far off in your head that you can barely grasp it. The only thing in your mind right now is pleasure and how he is working you up until your thighs are shaking on either side of his head and you wonder if he has any clue what kind of wanton, desperate noises you're making because your legs must be clamped down so hard on his ears that the world around him is muffled.

There is something exquisite about a woman clenching her legs closed around his head. It makes his cock throb and his mouth even more eager as the pressure against his skull increases as every second ticks by. He is living right here, in this moment and it's most he has felt like himself in years.

The balance of too much, not enough, and just perfect tips when he nips at your soaking wet lips and gently drags his teeth along your throbbing clit making nearly scream his name as you fly apart from every possible seam. This orgasm is having you, not the other way around, and you are just hanging on for dear life and trying not to moan too loudly so you don't get caught.

It's like a damn bursting and he is caught in the onslaught. Groaning as he tries to keep up with the rush of your pleasure that floods his mouth, filling it and making him pull you even closer. Eager to drink you down and have you push at his head in an attempt to get him to stop.

Feeling completely boneless makes it slightly difficult to gain that all-essential control over your own movements again and you swear that it takes you a solid thirty seconds to remember to breathe after your body has stopped shaking above him. Only after that do you giggle softly, deep and throaty, and groan his name into the humid air. “Fuck, Steve…” You smooth his hair back from where your fingers were digging into his scalp. “Oh my god.”

He chuckles as he pulls away and looks up at your face, hazy and soft with pleasure. "Good?" He asks, wanting to hear the praise. He's not above asking for it, especially with a new partner.

“Amazing.” Hell, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say he’s easily the best pussy eater you’ve ever been with. It’s not a hard competition against the two other men that came before. The others had refused, saying it was gross or they disliked the taste.

"Mmmmh." Steve smirks and yet he slides his fingers over your hips so he can seek out your wetness. Wanting to feel it another way. "Now you want to see how we fit together?" He asks, biting his lip as he slowly circles your entrance and almost presses into you, stopping just shy of breeching your walls.

“Hell yes.” You can’t help but giggle at your own enthusiasm, all self-consciousness washed away in the sea of cum he eagerly lapped from your cunt. “Help me back in the water, handsome.”

He chuckles and lets your brace your hands on his shoulders while you slide into the water. Not missing the chance to capture your nipple in his mouth again as you wrap your legs around his waist. Sex in water is amazing and he loves how easily he can manipulate and move you as he wants.

“Goddamn.” Even with just the tip of his cock nudging your entrance - like an echo of his fingers a moment ago - you can already feel how much he’s going to stretch you. “Feels like you’re going to split me in half.”

"Bet you say that to everyone." He teases, pulling away from your breast and reaching to capture your chin between his fingers and pressing a kiss to your lips. "You ready?"

“Wouldn’t say it unless it was true,” you promise him, squirming a little as you try to roll your hips down to take him a little deeper. The men before him had been nowhere near as well endowed, so you’re both excited and a little nervous. “Ready, baby.”

The moment the head of his cock slips inside you, he's glad he's got his feet planted on the rocks underneath the water. Groaning against your lips while he slowly starts to pull you down onto his length, impaling you inch by tortuously fabulous inch as you steal his breath.

It was an exaggeration when you said it. A minor one, you thought, but an exaggeration nonetheless. But with every second that ticks by as you sink down on his cock, you're starting to believe that you might feel him in your throat by the time he bottoms out. Wrapping both of your arms around his shoulders lets you hold him as close as possible as he starts to move, whimpering against his lips with every forward stroke. If he does split you in half, it will be the most amazing way to go in the whole world.

The water sloshes around both of you and Steve reaches out to hold onto the rock at your back. Keeping himself steady as he works himself in and out of you. “Fuck.” He pants, ducking his head down to nip at your throat and kiss it after.

"Fuck – oh fuck – you feel so fucking good." The words just tumble from your lips between kisses, desperate to feel as much of him all at once as you possibly can.

Steve has to agree, you feel amazing around him. He grunts and his teeth find your bottom lip and bites down on it while he gives a particularly rough thrust after he feels your walls relax around him.

The rocks biting into your back could leave permanent scars and you would wear them of badges of honour to memorialize tonight. As unbelievable as it is, he seems to fit you perfectly - stretching and filling you but never pushing past pure pleasure or approaching pain. Even the rougher strokes, that energetic and needy rhythm he finds that has you crying out and moaning with every thrust, seems to be the perfect balance for the two of you. You nip him back, lower lip and neck and earlobe all perfect places for your teeth to sink into and he seems to love it.

“Fuck.” He hisses, closing his eyes and his mouth going slack at the way you are biting and nipping him. He loves it. Arm tightening around you, he moans your name quietly, right into your ear, feeling his cock twitch deep inside your snug walls.

It's music. The best song in the world. And right in this moment you know that you'll do whatever you can to hear your name from his lips over and over again. The revelation that he likes to be a little rougher spurs you on entirely, though, and without even thinking about it you find yourself sucking a deep mark at the base of his neck that will be there at least a few days - hidden under his deputy's uniform like a dirty little secret. Which, you suppose, it is.

“Fuuuuuuuck.” Steve moans into the air, not giving a flying fuck who might be around and hear. He wouldn’t stop if the sheriff himself rolls up right now. His stomach clenches at the suction of your mouth on his skin and he turns the two of you around, bracing himself against the rock and starts moving you onto top of him, gritting his teeth as he manages to slip a little deeper.

"Oh my god." Clinging to him that much more securely as you move on him, it becomes an unrecognizable rhythm that matters only to your bodies. The whole world has dissolved around you, but you are climbing nearer to your peak with every passing moment.

“You gonna cum?” Steve asks, hissing slightly when your walls start to flutter around him. Nearly stunting his thrusts, but he just pulls you down harder and rucks his hips up more to work through it.

“S-so fucking close.” And when was the last time you actually came with a lover at all, let alone twice?

“Good.” Steve grunts, the water slapping in the small space between you and his head falls forward to rest on your collar bone while he barrels you both towards an orgasm. “Need to feel it baby.” Moving together, it doesn't take long for the two of you to find yourselves on the precipice. Your walls bear down on him with so much force that you swear you nearly black out near the end, sobbing his name into the night as the floodgates open once more. “Shit.” Steve hisses, body tensing and he’s powerless to hold out when you are coming apart in his arms. Dragging you closer and crashing his lips to yours while he gives into his own need. Pouring himself into you in molten waves that make him gasp and pray to the heavens that he’s not dreaming this.

"Fuck." Your head falls forward, forehead resting on his shoulder as you giggle softly in his arms and plant a chaste kiss on top of the mark you left in his skin that is already starting to bruise. "That was— fuck."

“Much better than the wedding reception.” He pants in agreement and chuckles. His own eyes close and he sighs softly, relaxing against the rock and just letting the moment linger between the two of you.

"Hell yes." There isn't a moment's doubt about it in your mind, and you let yourself rest against his chest comfortably without untangling your legs from his waist. You have no desire to leave his arms yet.

The sounds of the surrounding land starts to bleed through. The sounds of cicadas and frogs start to make a music that had soothed Steve throughout his childhood. It's like reality intrudes on both of you all at once, and your head pops up with dismay painted across your features. "Aw shit," you groan, not at all in the same way you were just groaning for him a few minutes ago. "It's...it's dark. There's no way I didn't miss curfew at the boarding house."

Steve snorts and chuckles at the fact that you did just miss curfew, for reasons that would make the old lady’s hair go even whiter than it already is. “Sounds like you’re disappointed to have stayed.” He teases, enjoying the fact that you are still on his cock.

"No." You shake your head and nuzzle into his neck a little bit more. "Just worried Mrs. Robeline will have my things out in the yard when I get back tomorrow. I wouldn't have missed this for the world."

“She won’t.” Steve assures you, reaching up and stroking your back above the water line. “I’ll give her call when we get back to the house. Tell her it was my fault for letting the time get away from me.”

"Do you have every lady in town wrapped around your little finger?" It wouldn't surprise you in the least if he did, considering you definitely see yourself there right about now.

“Nah.” He drawls, giving you an only slightly cocky smirk. “But considerin’ she knows I’m gonna be a sheriff’s deputy, I think she’ll let you slide.”

"It will be a lecture over breakfast instead." The thought makes you giggle, that post coital bliss coursing through your veins making it seem silly rather than the serious misstep it might otherwise be. "And I'll be hounded with questions about our intentions that she has no right to demand answers to." A deep, and deeply satisfied, sigh passes your lips as you pull back to look at him again. "Small towns are all the same."

“I’ll tell her that you’re sleepin’ in Tater’s room.” He chuckles and leans in to kiss you again as his softening cock slips out of you. “She’ll be quiet as a church mouse then.”

"Genius." You hum against his lips and groan slightly in protest when the two of you come untangled from each other. "But you're gonna have to button that uniform all the way up...I left you a little souvenir that I hope you'll like."

“I felt it.” He reaches up and rubs his neck with a grin. “It seems like a fair trade to me.”

"I'll climb out the window in the morning so your parents don't catch us," you tease. Separating in the cooling water makes you pout, but you'll have to climb out and dry off to get dressed eventually.

He rolls his eyes and scoffs. “I think my parents have figured out I’m not a virgin anymore.” That ship sailed long ago, but he has never brought a woman home beyond Connie.

“I was thinking of preserving us from prying question,” you tell him honestly as the two of you lift yourselves out of the water. “But if you think they won’t mind?” You shrug. “Well, you know your folks better than me.”

"After tonight?" He tosses you a grin and hands you the panties you were wearing as he scoops up some clothes. "I'm sure everyone is going to be sleeping in come the morning." He predicts, knowing how sometimes the after parties last longer than the real receptions. Especially if they break out the 'shine.

Thanks for making the day more fun.” It’s a silly sentiment, but you fluster slightly trying to dry off before you can put on your borrowed dress again.

“I think I should be thanking you.” Steve chuckles and pulls his briefs on. “Not sure if this was quite the town welcome you were expecting.”

“Not at all.” The very idea of it makes you grin as you finally pull your dress over your head. “But I doubt it’s what you expected for a homecoming, too.”

“So much better.” He huffs, rolling his eyes as he imagines all the questions he dodged.

“We should get out of here.” Nodding toward where his truck is parked, you easily lean into his side when he lifts his arm to offer you a spot. “Somebody’s sure to have heard us.”

“Half the parish.” He teases, feeling lighter and happier than he has in a long time. It’s not just the sex, it’s getting out of his own head, and he appreciates it. Turning his head, he kisses your temple affectionately as if you had received thousands of kisses from him. “We’ll go crawl in a bed and I know I’ll sleep good tonight.”

“I will, too.” With your heels dangling from your fingers, you keep in line with his strides and climb into his truck when he opens the door for you. It’s comforting to know this was more than just a quick fuck for him - even if it doesn’t turn out to be more than one night, he is still kind enough to give you a place to sleep instead of just dropping you off at the boarding house and telling you good luck. Or worse, stranding you at the swimming hole.

******

The ride back from the swimming hole is quiet, but not in an awkward sense. The radio hums, turned down to a low volume, and provides a backdrop for the occasional creak of the truck over pot holes and ruts as Steve drives slowly with the windows down. The summer night cools down, air blowing across his damp skin and through his hair, making him relax even more.

His house is quiet when you arrive but the party is still raging next door. The only sign of life at the Murphy home is his father asleep in the La-Z-Boy in the living room, and you stifle a laugh at the sight. Your own father would be exactly the same way.

Noticing your grin, Steve leans in close. “Don’t knock it until you try it. Those chairs are comfortable.”

“I was just thinking that my dad would be in exactly the same position,” you whisper, letting him lead you through the house. His overlarge hand around yours is warm and comforting and you don’t want to let go for anything.

"I think once you have kids, it becomes a universal right of passage to fall asleep in a chair at any point, any time.” He jokes, remembering how Connie would come home and Olivia would be passed out on his shoulder, and he was right there with her.

That makes you pause, and you look back at him curiously. “D—do you? Have kids? I…never thought to ask.”

"I did – do, I guess." He sighs. "We adopted a little girl in Colombia. Escobar's sicarios had killed her mother." He explains, not willing to talk about Connie's struggle with fertility. "My ex demanded sole custody and I wasn't in a place to fight it."

“I’m so sorry.” Squeezing his hand gently, you end up pulling him into a hug after a moment that he returns easily. “I’m sorry you don’t get to see your daughter. That can’t be easy.”

Steve sighs and tucks his head into your neck for a moment, savoring the feeling of someone caring. Someone who was not obligated to. "It's for the best. I wasn't— it was rough in Colombia." He knows he made mistakes as well; it wasn't just Connie deciding she wanted a divorce. He had changed and some of those changes weren't pretty. "I will wait until she's older and see if Connie will change her mind."

“If you ever want to talk about it…” you let the sentence trail off, softly stroking his back as he holds onto you. “No pressure. But I’m a pretty good listener.”

"Thanks." He pulls back and gives you a small smile. "Let’s get upstairs before Dad wakes himself up snoring."

******

His old double bed looks like it will barely fit the two of you when you gently shut his bedroom door behind you, but you offer him a grin. “I guess we’ll have to cuddle.”

"It'll be a tight fit, but we don't have to worry about falling off." He jokes, one side of the bed shoved up against the wall. "Hopefully you don't roll?"

"I'm pretty much a rock." Taking off the dress once more is much easier, and you hang it carefully on the back of his desk chair to keep it from wrinkling too badly. "Once I'm out, I don't move again until morning."

He chuckles quietly and strips out of his own clothes, more careless with them than you are. Although he does have the luxury of having something else to wear tomorrow. "Do you mind taking the inside of the bed?" He doesn't want to make it a thing, but he would prefer to sleep next to the door.

"Don't want to be stuck between a rock and a hard place?" You can't resist the joke, and grin at him as you climb under the covers to shimmy across the mattress.

He snorts and shakes his head. "Habit." He admits, blushing slightly. "Closest to the door..." Closest to the danger is the unspoken part.

"Doesn't make a bit of difference to me." Settled in with your head on one of his pillows, you pat the space next to you softly. "Just as long as you're joining me."

He snorts and nods. "Of course." He huffs playfully. "It's my bed after all." He lifts the covers and slides in beside you, settling on his side and wondering if he can put his arms around you.

Noting his obvious hesitation, you nestle yourself right into his chest and put one arm around his waist to draw him close. After what happened an hour ago? You're not inclined to be shy about something as innocent as sleeping. "It's gonna be a long night if you don't want to cuddle."

With that invitation, Steve melts into you and presses himself up against you with his leg sliding between yours.

"Hmmm," you sigh in utter contentment and lay your head on his chest, letting him draw you in as closely as he pleases. "G'night, Steve."

"G'night gorgeous." He breathes out softly, closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep peacefully. There's no mistaking it, as the two of you snuggle tightly into each others' arms: this really might be the best second chance you ever could have gotten.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom

Steve Tags: @pedropascalsx @ithinkwehitametaphor @justafleshwoundbaby @ionlyjoinedforboydholbrook

#Boyd Holbrook #Boyd Holbrook fanfic #Steve Murphy #Steve Murphy x reader #Steve Murphy x you #Steve Murphy x female reader #Narcos #Steel Magnolias Au #tw divorce #I just love Steve a lot #And want to give him all the nice things

[aestheticpearl]

𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 — 𝐝𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐣𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧

(no use of y/n)

a/n: everytime i rewatch the mandalorian i think about if din had a friend that was also a mandalorian, so here are some headcanons

first meeting

you were the apprentice to the armorer and had met din when he first brought the case of beskar to her so she could forge it into something of great purpose. you struck up a conversation with him asking about his armor and the damage that it seem to have. 

“so who rocked your shit?”

“mud horn”

“woahhhh that’s so cool”

you were definitely younger then him and he easily picked up on that, you had so much energy. he thought it was funny how bright eyed and bushy tailed you were for the armorers apprentice. it was nice to meet someone who had a little more positive outlook on life.

how you started traveling together

after din returned to the underground tunnels clearly injured with a small group of people. he asked for the armored to come with them. she declined and told him to take you instead, much to your shock.

“what? i’m not leaving you!” she turned to you.

“you must. i will stall them, if you remain with me i can’t protect you. you must go with din djarin.” she says, at the end you hear her voice soften. “i will be fine” you nod and turn to the small group.

“we have to go now”

life on the razor crest

din wouldn’t admit it out loud but you traveling with him made his life so much more easier. you helped a lot looking after the kid and your forging skills came in handy every now and then. he trained with you in hand to hand to brush up on both of your skills.

“you’re pretty good at this” he says bluntly.

“i’m better at defense but thank you for the compliment” you say as you block another one of his strikes.

the small child watches both of you closely with his big eyes. he sure is funny looking.

babysitting

“remind me why i can’t go with you again?”

“cause someone has to watch the kid, it’s far too dangerous for both of you”

you’re practically pouting at the statement and so his the child in your lap. you pet his small head with your gloved hand and he coos out at you, telling you that he enjoys the affection you’re giving him.

“i could handle it”

“i’m not risking it, plus the kid likes you”

you let out a sigh and look down at the small child smiling up at you, dang it he is too cute. you give your pinky that he grips tightly with his little three fingers hand.

“he’s lucky i like him too”

patching each other up

“you need to focus on patching yourself up”

“you are in far worse condition than me”

you point to the large gash in his side that you’re trying to tend to but he seems to think the cut on your leg is far more important than the near fatal injury he possesses currently.

“din please just let me help you so i can’t help myself” you say through gritted teeth, you hope that your voice modulator doesn’t pick up that you sound in pain.

“fine but you’re letting me help you after”

“deal”

getting separated

maybe you should’ve stayed on the ship this time, you’re definitely lost and your com isn’t working due to the distance at least that’s what you’ve pegged the problem as.

this is honestly really embarrassing, you could’ve sworn that the ship was parked here in this now empty spot. there’s no way din would leave you here though, right? well if you think about it, there’s plenty of reasons for him to leave you behind. maybe this was cause you told him he need to eat something that wasn’t just a quick meal.

“hey can you hear me? i’m landing near your location” oh thank god.

“thought you left me behind tin head” he scoffs.

“you’re one to talk, i was out looking for you cause you didn’t stay put”

feelings towards you

din hated to admit it but he had grown a fond attachment to you and so had the kid. you just seemed to fit so nicely in their lives, it felt natural to have you around and it was nice to have someone to bounce strategies off of plus you knew your way around the ship and welded most damage that was done to it.

“hey you’re staring off into nothingness again” you tap his helmet lightly and he shakes himself back to reality to face you.

you’re hold the kid on your lap as he looks at din with his big eyes. he coos and tilts his head to the side and smiles up at din.

for the first time in a while din felt comfortable with someone else’s presence and he liked being around you.

without the helmet

when din had to revealed his face to further your mission to rescue the child you didn’t say a word to him about anything that he did. you didn’t tell him how he broke the creed that you both were suppose to be up holding and he certainly didn’t tell him about how attractive he looked.

“i didn’t see anything.” din doesn’t respond, he just nods at you and walks back into the ship silently.

you feel bad for him, he had to sacrifice the creeds laws to rescue this child that clearly means a lot to him. it’s quite touching if you really think about it.

please reblog to show support ✧·˚ ༘ * ༄

in honor of season three coming out

.love always <3 pearl

.masterlist

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #din djarin #mando #mando fic #mando x reader #mando x y/n #mando x you #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x gender neutral reader #din dijarin x reader #din dijarn #din djarin x mandalorian!reader #din dijarin fanfiction #the mandalorian series