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abyssruler · 1 year

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the 7-eleven diaries

albedo, alhaitham, childe, scaramouche, venti x gn!reader

your job isn’t the best one out there, but it’s easy and keeps you from drowning in tuition fees and rent. working at a 7-eleven on a midnight shift was supposed to be peaceful, so why is it that you constantly find yourself being bothered by weird customers? (modern au)

fluff, comedy, crack, cashier employee reader, modern au, written for fluffvember!

ALBEDO

It’s difficult not to take notice of the perpetually tired college student (much like yourself) who always comes at the latest hours to order a cup of black coffee and a can of beer. The first time you saw him order that drink was a memorable one, if only because of the way your eyes had nearly popped out of their sockets when you saw him mix the two drinks in a large, empty slurpee cup and proceed to drink it all in a matter of seconds.

Another memorable time was when he came in with only enough money to buy a bottle of water, then took a seat at a table near the counter and took out a box full of what you initially presumed were cookies. It was a traumatizing memory you look back on with a shudder as you remember the way he crunched down on it like it was a piece of biscuit instead of a motherfucking spider.

“They’re surprisingly nutritional, full of protein and fibre. It leaves a strange aftertaste, but it’s a good substitute for dinner.”

Since then, you’ve made sure to keep some food ready in the microwave for him, free of charge. He just looked so pitiful sitting by himself with dark under-eyes and greasy hair — the very image of a normal college student — that you couldn’t help yourself from taking money out of your own pocket to help a fellow comrade.

One day, he came to the store with blown pupils and a sort of dazed look in his eyes, words slurring together as he tried to explain to you how he’s finally created an edible liquid that can keep sleep at bay for at least 120 hours…with some small side-effects, but it’ll wear off with time. That’s when you found out he was a bio-chemistry student well on his way to getting a PhD at his young age.

When questioned why he drank the liquid instead of having someone else do it, his response was, “To experience it firsthand, of course. The basis of research is accuracy and precision, how could I be remiss as to leave such an important experiment to someone who could, in their ignorance, fail to mention an important detail that their mind might have labeled as useless.”

You’re not quite sure how he’s still alive by this point.

But his weirdness aside, you resolve to take care of him in your own way, from a fellow tired college student to another. You remind him to get some sleep, steering him away from eating spiders and encouraging him to eat more meat.

“But I am eating meat?”

“Albedo, that’s a spider.”

“And are you saying that spiders do not possess meat?”

“Oh, for the love of—just eat the goddamn sandwich.”

You think he appreciates it, if the way he dedicated his latest thesis to you is any indication.

ALHAITHAM

You were in the middle of answering a math problem your professor assigned that morning, papers sprawled over the counter with you hunched over it, hand in your hair and trying not to pull at it in frustration over how difficult the problem was. And then he’d come in like an angel, all perfectly shiny hair and a no-nonsense look on his face, took one look at you and the papers scattered across the counter and said one sentence that saved your grade in math.

“You forgot to put a negative sign right there.”

That was the moment you decided that he must be an angel sent from heaven. He always grunts whenever you call him that, though whether it’s from amusement or annoyance remains to be seen.

He doesn’t visit the convenience store much, but when he does, he always spares the time to help you out with whatever assignment you were working on, sometimes even taking the initiative of asking if you need his assistance in answering a problem — though he says this on a much less nicer tone.

“Are you gonna make me do your homework again?”

“My professer didn’t assign me one today, surprisingly enough, so no.”

He seemed strangely disappointed when you told him no, but you chalked it up to him being some sort of math wiz who gets riled up by equations and the like. Seems like kind of guy too, what with all the times he’s made a subtle jab at your intelligence — or lack, thereof.

“How could you possibly need a paper to calculate the answer to four-hundred and thirty-two times fifty-eight?”

“Not all of us are smarter than Rukkhadevata like you.”

“Who?”

He’s not bad company, though that opinion stems solely from the fact that he helps you (solves it for you, more like) with all your homework. Not without making comments about you lazing about on the job and letting your customer answer your assignment for you. You respond in a mature way by making fun of him.

“I’ve never seen you without those earphones. Are you hiding a pair of large ears or something?”

“No.”

He refuses to elaborate more on the subject.

Sometimes you give him a drink, usually cola or juice, as thanks for helping you out. He takes it without question, taking sips from it as he tutors you about this and that, occasionally commenting about your job and how you’re only making yourself suffer by taking on midnight shifts. You don’t see why he cares. For all that you jokingly call him an angel, you know he’s far from actually being one.

You once saw him on campus reading a book by the library. It’s easy enough to come up to him and make conversation, handing him an unopened drink you just bought from a vending machine. It just feels wrong not to, more of a habit by this point.

It’s then that someone decides to dramatically drop his books to the ground and point at you and Alhaitham. The blonde guy gapes and asks how in the world Alhaitham managed not to scare you away. His eyes zero in on the can of grape juice on Alhaitham’s hand, and then he proceeds to laugh, asking Alhaitham since when did he decide to start drinking what he once called was an unhealthy drink composed of sugar and artificial flavoring.

You made a mental note of that response, and later that night, you decide to hand him a packaged biscuit. Nothing unhealthy there. Technically.

“Good. I was beginning to wonder if I should start taking medicine in case my stomach burst from the amount of cola you hand me.”

“You could’ve just not accepted, you know.”

“It was given to me. Not accepting would be considered rude.”

“Didn’t Kaveh say you threw a bottle of orange juice to his face after he gave you one?”

“I did.”

He refuses to elaborate more on the subject, but you’ve since resolved to only give him the healthiest thing you could find on the store—which isn’t much considering this is a 7-eleven, but hey, microwaved salad is still salad, right?

He grumbles about the radiation but eats the salad anyway. Another win for you, you suppose.

CHILDE

He came in near the end of your shift, lips busted and an eye swollen shut, blood splattered all over his clothes. The grin on his face should’ve hinted you at his lunacy, but you’ve always been blind to warnings and the like, so you went over the counter and helped him up from where he’s slumped over the chips and candies isle.

Aether, your co-worker and the one who’s about to take over from your shift, only looked at you with tired eyes, “It’s too early for this shit.” That was, of course, Aether’s way of basically saying, you’re on your own.

So you picked up the ginger lying on the linoleum floors, heaving his arm over your shoulder to drag him to the nearest pharmacy — never let it be said that you were just a bystander. He groaned as the movement bothered whatever injuries he may have, but he still looked at you with wide, strangely lightless eyes, as if only now registering your presence, and said, “Holy shit, you’re hot.”

After you finished dumping him on the pharmacy and leaving the people there baffled at what to do with an injured guy, he grabbed your wrist and, with a bloody smile he probably thought was charming, handed you a piece of paper containing his number.

You never text him. Or call.

He comes back to the store a week later with faint yellow bruises across his face and a far too bright grin for someone who’s visiting a 7-eleven at two in the morning. He pouts about not getting a single text from you, but before you can respond, he’s moving on to another topic, mindlessly picking up a box of tampons by the side and setting it on the counter.

He only seems to realize what he’s done when you give him a strange look.

“Tampons are, uh, great for bloody noses!”

“…Right.”

You weren’t convinced at all, but you decided to let it slide. He seemed like a genuine guy, if a bit too enthusiastic sometimes. His mouth never shuts ups, always going on about this and that, asking all sorts of questions that would’ve normally had most normal people backing away. But your brain isn’t exactly at its best condition and being sleep deprived for the better part of your life has made it less of a brain and more of an organ that just helps you get through the day.

You don’t know exactly why he stays to chat with you, buying ridiculous amounts of stuff that were frankly far too expensive just to have an excuse to talk to you. You don’t mind it much, especially when he’s a great deterrent for any unwanted petty thieves or middle school delinquents trying to rob your store every week or so.

Apparently, he’s got a reputation for being a bit of an adrenaline junkie and being willing to fight anything and everything that breathes. And apparently, word’s gotten out that he’s into you, like, really into you, so most guys who have less-than-well intentions have decided that robbing the local 7-eleven isn’t worth the trouble if it means having to deal with Ajax.

“Actually, it’s Tartaglia.”

“Tarantula?”

“No, Tartaglia. It’s my street name! Ajax just doesn’t inspire the same fear into other people’s hearts the same way Tartaglia does.”

“Whatever you say, Tortilla.”

“It’s Tartaglia!”

He never brings up the fact that you never call or text him back, even when he’s somehow gotten ahold of your number and started sending you memes and updates about his day. When asked, he just shrugs and says he’ll win you over eventually.

SCARAMOUCHE

It wasn’t intentional, and you’ll admit it was completely your fault, but did he have to be such an asshole about you dozing off on the counter?

“Have the standards really fallen so low that employees are now afforded to sleep on the job?”

Here was this guy at two in the morning, bemoaning society’s failure in raising the new generation to have a proper work ethic at a 7-eleven store. The guy had a rolex watch and clothes that looked like they were worth more than your monthly salary — you’re not one to judge other people’s appearances, but he’s the very image of nepotism. And frankly speaking, you’re of the opinion that rich people shouldn’t be entitled to an opinion on what the working class decides do with their life, like falling asleep on the job.

…And oh, you just said that out loud, didn’t you?

Oh well, your manager will understand.

The guy with a bowl cut leaves fuming, but not before slapping a wad of cash down the counter to pay for his stupidly expensive noodles, snarling at you to keep the change since you clearly need it more than him.

You do, in fact, keep the change. Money is money, whether it’s from your salary or a rich boy throwing a tantrum.

The next day in class, a bag slams down the seat beside you, and you’re met with the same rich boy from last night, a scowl painting his rather pretty face as he hisses lowly about how he’s surprised you can afford to go to college. Talk about holding a grudge, you would’ve forgotten all about him from last night if he hadn’t given you his change.

He fumes even more when you don’t give him any sort of reaction, merely nodding your head at him and turning back to the board to listen to your professor drone on about this and that. It’s rather difficult to focus, however, when he keeps muttering sarcastic comments and barbs to the teacher beneath his breath.

“If you even had an iota of charm about you, perhaps your wife wouldn’t have filed for a divorce.”

You choked on a laugh, hand coming up muffle the sound, but he clearly noticed, judging by the way he snaps his head to you, eyes wide and seemingly surprised you found it funny. You only smile at him, an amused little thing, but he quickly looked away and murmured something unintelligible beneath his breath, his fists clenched and the tips of his ears curiously pink.

He comes back to visit your job that night, still with that air of haughtiness about him but a bit toned down. Even more surprising was the fact he didn’t immediately leave the moment he handed you his money.

“Do you want the change?”

“Are you so desperate for money that you’d go begging a total stranger for some spare coin?”

“I mean, yeah, I guess.”

“Tch, fine. You can have it.”

He never fails to come back every night, always giving you the change for his bill, even when the amount is more than the items he paid for. Sometimes, he’ll even take out a snack or a drink from the bag and slide them over to you, cheeks suspiciously red as he did so.

“Don’t think this means anything. I’m only giving this to you because I know you can’t afford it.”

“It’s literally worth ten mora.”

“Would it kill you to at least give me a thank you?”

“Thank you, Kunikuzushi. I’ll be sure to treasure this can of cola that I would’ve never been able to afford without your help.”

“Shut up.”

He buys you a tub of ice cream the next night, the ridiculously expensive kind, to prove a point. The two of you eat it together at one of the tables, him grumbling about the stain on the table and the overall lack of quality and taste — at a 7-eleven — and you laughing whatever he says.

Well, you suppose he’s not as much of an asshole as you initially assumed.

VENTI

He’s a bit popular in campus, in the sense that nearly everyone is friends with him, which makes it impossible not to have heard about that one guy who’s really great at singing. You were, unfortunately, one of the few that aren’t well acquainted with him — aren’t acquainted with him at all.

So when he comes up to the counter, all boyish grin and ridiculously short shorts and a cute little pink hair clip keeping his bangs away from his face, holding an entire household’s worth of vodka and wine, you do what any rational semi-adult would do and look at him with a blank face.

“Are you even old enough to drink?”

He laughs at you like this is a common occurrence he faces on the daily before slapping down his ID on the counter. And huh, would you look at that, he’s even older than you are.

He then lights up once he gets a good look at you. “Hey, you’re Albedo’s friend, aren’t you?” He abandons his alcohol at the counter in favor of looking around your quaint little convenient store. “So this is that 7-eleven he keeps talking about…”

You’re not exactly sure what he’s going on about, but you do know he must be a friend of Albedo’s, which makes you ease up around him. He’s nice. Sort of. If you ignore the teasing and the jokes and the way he keeps asking you to give him a student discount. For alcohol. You’d given him what you hoped was your best imitation of Kunikuzushi’s stink eye. You think you got it on point, if the way he deflates is any indication.

He comes around the store every weekend, saying he’s here to get a little treat for the awful weekday he’s had. You never fail to remind him that he has class every Sunday, to which he responds by opening a can of beer (which he hasn’t paid for yet) and sitting on the counter, bemoaning the injustice of putting classes during the weekends.

You once asked him why he keeps hanging around this store when there’s a perfectly good bar right around the corner, owned by that popular red-haired business major from your university. Venti just laughed and said he prefers the quietness here — and the company, he added with a wag of his eyebrows. He always teases you, sometimes borderline flirting, but it’s easy enough to wave it away.

The day you discovered he was actually well known in campus was when your university hosted a local event. There’d been stalls and booths set up everywhere and even a little mock-stage put up near the center for any band or singer to perform in. It’d been nice to have a break from the monotonous routine of going to class and studying then working at your job and getting less than ideal sleep.

And then you heard your name booming out from the speakers, and you turn your head to see Venti on the stage with that little lyre he sometimes carries with him to the store, saying he’d like your opinion on a song or two he composed.

He dedicates the song to you in front of the entire student body, then proceeds to sing the cheesiest, most gut-wrenching and cringiest love song of all time.

“Why did you have to pick that song?”

“Because it’s fun and cute!”

“I sometimes question your ability to distinguish cute from horrifyingly monstrous.”

There’s a mortified look on your face, but amidst the embarrassment and the teasing remarks of his friends, there’s a smile on your face that you can’t bring yourself to wipe away.

i’ll be doing a part two on this but with diluc, dottore, kazuha, xiao, and zhongli!

@maehemthemisfit @sonder-paradise @96jnie @komiyaa @scaramouchenumber1fan @linn-a-a @wisteriaflowersss @ineriris @yesntforno @serramii @shadowmist0706 @jmgrule @imeanwatever @c00kie-cat @serramii @xtodorokismistressx @ieathairs @endlessmari @strawberryclumsy @serenity-ren-bliss @scarasbaby

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #albedo x reader #albedo kreideprinz x reader #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #al-haitham x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #ajax x reader #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #venti x reader #gn reader #modern au #fluffvember #fluffvember 2022

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andvys · 3 months

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I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | Epilogue

Warnings: none. this is just pure fluff. possible allusions to steddie x reader but don't tell roe I said that

Pairings: Previous Steve Harrington x fem!reader | Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: This is the end. Or the new beginning.

A/N: @hellfire--cult thank you for working on this story with me, bestie. It would have never been the same without you, you really helped me create something great. The last line? Perfection bby, thank you so much🫶🏻 i love u

series masterlist

2 years later

Hawkins, 1987

Sunlight peeks through the blue curtains in the large bedroom, the sound of cars driving through the streets fills the silence in the apartment, the smell of paint, fresh bed sheets and the vanilla candle that was lit for the first time last night, all mingle together. Both opened and unopened boxes are all across the room. Most of the clothes – jackets, sweaters and flannels are already in the closet. The dressers are decorated with books, pictures and a lone mug that was forgotten yesterday morning. A diary and a new lamp are decorating the bedside table.

Silent tiptoes echo against the hardwood floor before they disappear again and reappear on his thick blanket, the faintest purr and the softness against his skin pulls him out of his deep sleep.

A smile tugs at his lips when the little ball of fur snuggles against his bare chest.

“Hey there… Cat,” Steve mumbles, groggily.

The black kitten meows at him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs, opening his tired eyes. “You’ll get a cool name soon, don’t worry, dude.”

He strokes his back, gently. Smiling when he starts to purr as he moves closer to him.

A yawn falls from Steve’s lips, he runs his fingers through his hair, he looks over at the clock. He raises his eyebrows in surprise, it’s 6:46am.

“Look at you, I don’t even need an alarm anymore,” he mumbles.

Cat meows at him, standing up on all paws, he suddenly digs his nails into his chest as he stretches.

“Ow!.. Yeah, no, we don’t do that on humans, buddy,” he mumbles as he picks him up, giving him a kiss on the head, before he puts him down on his pillow.

Steve throws the covers off himself, stretching his arms out before he gets up and walks over to the window, he opens the curtains and takes a look outside before he walks over to the closet, picking out some clothes for the day.

“Gonna take a shower and then make breakfast for the princess,” he says to his new buddy, as though he would answer. He looks back at him to find him staring with his head tilted. Steve chuckles, “yeah, don’t tell her I called her that, she’d probably punch me.”

After a long shower, he makes his way into the kitchen, he feeds his cat before he gets started on the breakfast that he cooks for Robin and himself every morning. He sips on his hot coffee, bobbing his head to music that plays from the radio that he bought a few days back as he stirs the scrambled eggs.

Robin walks out of her room moments later, with messy hair and a very tired look on her face, she makes a stop in the bathroom before she joins Steve in the kitchen.

“Morning Dingus,” she grumbles as she pushes past him. She grabs her favorite mug from the cupboard and pours the freshly brewed coffee into it.

“Morning, Robby,” he chuckles. “How’d you sleep?”

“Like shit,” she mumbles, walking over to the fridge, she opens it and grabs the creamer. “I need coffee so so bad.”

Steve scrunches his face up at her, watching her pour tons and tons of creamer in.

“I don’t know how you can drink that, it’s too fucking sweet, Robin.”

She rolls her eyes at him, taking a sip from it, she closes her eyes and nods. “No, this is exactly what I need. Flavored goodness to wake me up in the morning.”

“Yeah, it’s the overload of sugar that wakes you up, not the coffee in there,” he chuckles as he points to her mug. “It’s bad for your teeth.”

“It’s not an overload, you’re just a grandpa.”

“Why? Because I don’t like creamer?”

“No, because you don’t like sweet stuff.”

“Not true, I got sugar in my coffee.”

She snorts, leaning against the counter, she holds her mug against her chest, “yeah, how much? A sprinkle?”

He takes a sip of his coffee, shaking his head at her, “nope, two teaspoons.”

“Oh wow!”

He rolls her eyes at her, placing his hand on his hip, he turns back to the stove.

She chuckles at his pose, “you know, you’re like a real mom – cooking breakfast for me, telling me to be safe even though I’m dating a girl, telling me that sugary stuff is bad for my teeth.”

He waves her off, “yeah yeah.”

She laughs, walking over to their kitchen table, she sits down and reaches for the newspaper, “hey, where’s your little buddy?”

Steve uses the spatula to point at the couch, “buddy is sleeping.”

Robin straightens her back, looking over to where he’s pointing, she finds the tiny kitten sleeping on the fluffy blanket she left there, last night.

Her eyes soften and her lips pull into a pout, “he’s the cutest little thing I’ve ever seen – I’m so happy you kept him.”

“Not like I had a choice,” Steve snorts, though his eyes are soft as he looks at his little buddy. “Dustin forced me to keep him.”

“Don’t act like it wasn’t the birthday present you ever got,” Robin says, glancing at him.

Dustin and Max thought it was a great idea to adopt a kitten for his 21st birthday. He didn’t exactly have a choice but to keep him – besides, Steve fell in love with the cat the moment he held him in his hands.

“Yeah, I love him. I don’t have a name for him yet though.”

Robin shrugs, “you didn’t like any of my suggestions. I guess he will stay ‘Cat’ forever.”

“No, he won’t,” Steve shakes his head as he walks over to the table, placing both plates on the table before he walks back to the counter to get his cup of coffee.

“That smells good,” Robin smiles at him, pulling the plate closer and reaching for the fork, “thanks mom,” she teases him.

He flips her off as he sits down across from her, making her chuckle.

She takes a bite of the toast and digs into the eggs, getting lost in her thoughts as she chews her breakfast.

Steve looks at her, watching the way she raises her brows before she holds her finger up, like she does every time whenever she remembers something important.

“Oh! I just remembered, Lizzy told me that someone’s moving in next door!”

“Really?” He asks, furrowing his brows at her.

“Yeah, some couple.”

Steve frowns at her words, dropping his fork, he reaches for his mug.

“Damn, let’s hope they’re nothing like the couple in the last apartment building,” he says in disgust.

Robin and Steve lived across the street in the old building for almost two years and almost every night, they’d both have to wear earplugs to avoid hearing them moan and scream.

“They were horny rabbits,” Robin laughs in amusement as she continues eating, totally unfazed by those memories.

“Yeah, like you and Chrissy,” he mumbles, glaring at her. “I hope the walls here are thicker than in the last apartment.”

Robin blushes at his words, though she keeps the teasing smile on her lips. Excitement rushes through her when she thinks about her girlfriend, who is currently away for college.

“You’ll find out next week.”

“She’s coming to visit?”

“Mhmm.”

“Cool,” Steve nods, smiling at her. “Alright, I’m gonna clean up the kitchen and you should start getting ready for work or the manager will kick you out.”

She snorts at his words, rolling her eyes at the teasing look on his face.��

“You’re the manager, Dingus.”

“Not yet, Robs.”

“Yeah, well you’re almost the manager.”

“Almost, yeah.”

It’s the beginning of September, the last days of summer are going strong. It’s not as hot as it was in July or August, but it’s still very warm. The afternoon sun shines into the store, the soft breeze from outside touching his skin as he passes by the open door.

It’s a slow day at Family Video and Steve spent most of his time stacking up new tapes. Frowning every time he passes by Pretty in Pink, he came to hate the movie, simply because he gets asked about it at least five times a day – and because Robin and Chrissy force him to watch the movie with them, all the damn time.

He’s organizing the shelf in the back aisle, fixing all the tapes that have been put back unevenly.

He furrows his brows when he hears Robin’s whispers as she seemingly talks to someone at the front, though he doesn’t take a peek to look who it is, he figures that she’s using the phone to talk to Chrissy as always. Keith almost caught her during one of her phone calls – she came up with a lie and he of course had her back, Keith didn’t seem to believe that she was talking to a customer who was asking for a very specific movie, he also didn’t believe Steve when he told him that said customer calls all the time, but he brushed it off, surprisingly. He must have had a good day, otherwise he would have fired them both probably.

He almost flinches when he feels someone tapping his shoulder – he didn’t even hear the footsteps.

“Excuse me? – Can you help me find Pretty in Pink?”

It takes him a moment.

He almost groans in annoyance at the mention of that movie but then his eyes widen and his heart leaps to his throat. For a second he thinks that it’s his mind playing tricks on him but when he turns around, his eyes widen even further and his lips curl into a big smile.

The same eyes that were filled with tears after the last goodbye two years back, now stare at him with happiness and excitement in them.

You are here.

You came back.

“I– Dolly?!” He gasps as he looks you up and down, like he can’t believe that you are truly here after being away for so long.

“Hi, Stevie.”

You’re looking at him with a smile on your face as you take in the sight of him too.

It’s almost been two years since you had last seen each other.

Two years since you have left Hawkins.

You look happy, you look beautiful, even more so than before. Your hair is even longer now, styled perfectly, long bangs are framing your face. Your lips are cherry red, it suits you well. You’re wearing a short sundress, your sun kissed skin is glowing beneath the sunlight that shines into the store. He can smell your perfume, it’s a new one.

You look amazing, healthy and at peace.

Snapping out of it, he drops the tape he was holding, not caring where it lands. He takes a step forward, he wraps his arms around your waist and picks you up, twirling you around as he holds you tightly.

A squeal falls from your lips before you start laughing, you wrap your arms around his neck. Hugging him back just as tightly.

“I missed you so fucking much!” He exclaims, squeezing your waist. “I’m never letting you leave again.”

“I missed you too, Steve.”

He missed your voice too – you called him on his birthday but this is different.

You giggle, letting go of him when he puts you down again.

He squeezes you one more time before he pulls away from the hug, still smiling for you, unable to tear his eyes away from you.

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi,” you smile, giggling again.

You take in the sight of him. He changed, somehow he appears even taller to you than before. His shoulders are broader, his hair is longer, a light stubble on his cheeks. He looks older, in a good way. But most importantly, he looks content, he looks happy and that makes your smile even bigger.

He blinks, he opens his mouth to speak again but he is stunned, completely caught off guard.

He takes a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair before he puts his hand on the shelf next to him.

“I– wow, I can’t believe you’re back,” he says, shaking his head. “And you, you look amazing.”

You look down at the floor, smiling at his words.

“Thank you. You do too, Steve.”

Your eyes meet his again when you look back up.

“Thank you,” he smiles as his eyes soften.

He gets excited, too excited at the thought of seeing you around town again. Hawkins hasn’t been the same since you left. It was weird at first, places that you have always gone to, suddenly seemed so lonesome and lifeless, despite the people around them. You were just gone and he hated it.

“W-Wait, are you back for good or are you just visiting?”

You shake your head, “no, we’re back, for good.”

Steve can’t begin to describe how happy he feels to hear these words. He missed you, he missed his best friend.

There are so many things he wants to ask, so many things he wants to tell you but he is just too stunned.

He looks over your shoulder, “where’s Eddie?”

“He’s talking to Robin, wanna go say hi?” You smile.

“Yeah, let’s go,” he nods, putting his hand on your shoulder. “So, did you guys plan to come back here or was it spontaneous.”

“Both. We just kinda made that decision spontaneously, back in July. It’s been nice to live in a big city and travel around whenever we had the chance to but we missed everyone here,” you pause, smiling when your eyes meet Eddie’s as you and Steve make your way to the front desk. “Even Eddie, can you believe that?”

He chuckles, knowing how much Eddie always cursed about this town.

“Do you have a place here already or are you staying with your mom?”

You shake your head, “no, Wayne helped us find an apartment and Enzo was happy to offer Eddie a job again.”

Steve nods, smiling.

“And you?”

“Oh, I got an interview tomorrow at the new coffee shop here!” You explain, excitedly. “We checked it out earlier, it’s so cool! They sell books and records!”

His eyes light up, his lips curl into a smile, “it’s a good place, they make good coffee there.”

“Do you go there often?”

He nods, “yeah and so do Max and Lucas, they go there to study – like every afternoon,” he chuckles.

“Really?” You ask, your eyes lighting up.

“Yeah!”

“Cute,” you smile. “But uh, let’s not get too forward, maybe I won’t get the job.”

He pats your shoulder, giving you a soft smile, “nah, you’ll get it. You love coffee, books and music. They gotta give you the job. – But hey, if you wanna stack up VHS tapes all day, this place will look for a new employee soon, so if you’re interested,” he offers as his smile grows wider. “I’m gonna be the manager soon.”

You both stop at the counter and Steve places his hand on his hip, smirking a little.

Your eyes widen at his words, “no way! That’s amazing, Steve!”

“What’s amazing?”

At the sound of his voice, Steve tears his eyes away from you and looks over at Eddie. He takes him in just like he did with you – it’s almost odd to see him without his signature leather jacket or his vest, his skin a little less pale than usual. He notices the new tattoos on his left arm and how his hair is slightly longer than it was when you both left. Unlike the last few times they had seen each other, there’s not a single negative emotion lingering in his brown eyes – no insecurity, no jealousy, no fear. Eddie looks happy, just like you do.

“Hey man,” Steve nods at him, not even needing to force a smile this time.

“Hey Steve,” Eddie nods, smiling back at him and offering his hand to him.

They shake hands, taking in the sight of each other. There’s no tension between them, not anymore.

“Steve is gonna be the new manager here soon!”

Eddie’s eyes widen, he chuckles at your excitement and smiles at Steve, “congrats, man! That’s nice.”

“Thanks, Eddie.” Steve smiles.

Robin looks between them as she leans against the counter with her arms crossed over her chest, smiling at the two men.

Eddie wraps his arm around your shoulder once he lets go of Steve’s hand. Giving you a smile when you press yourself against him.

“Well, this is nice,” Robin snorts, clapping her hands together as she looks between both men. “You finally got a guy to hang out with, Steve,” she winks at him.

He snorts at her, rolling his eyes. “I got a guy.”

“Who, cat?”

You snap your head towards Robin before your eyes lock with Steve’s, “Cat? You got a cat?”

He chuckles at the excitement in your eyes. “Yeah, Dustin and Max got me a kitten for my birthday.”

Your eyes widen as a gasp falls from your lips, making both him and Eddie chuckle.

“Yeah and he still doesn’t have a name!” Robin exclaims.

“Oh my god! A kitten?” You pout as your eyes soften.

“Yeah, he’s really cuddly too. You’re gonna fall in love with him,” Steve smiles.

Eddie chuckles at his words, looking down at you, “she falls in love with all the cats, Steve.”

“Yeah, that’s why she fell for you,” Robin snorts.

Eddie furrows his brows, “what?”

“You give off cat energy, Eddie. Always hungry, hissing at everyone and clingy with just that one person.”

Eddie’s lips part, confusion flashes in his eyes but he’s amused by her words. He wraps his arm around you tighter and kisses your cheek in response, making you giggle.

“See,” Robin chuckles.

“Oh.. yeah,” Steve mumbles. “You’re onto something, totally reminds me of Cat–”

“Cat is the poor kitten he hasn’t named yet, by the way,” Robin interrupts him, glancing at the both of you.

Steve rolls his eyes but continues, “cat waggles with his tail when he hears Metallica on the radio.”

“You got a rockstar cat!” You laugh.

“Can we meet the little rockstar?” Eddie asks, surprising Steve.

He was unsure of how Eddie would react if he tried to be your friend again, fearing that he would have a problem with that or try to keep you away from him out of fear that he might try to get you back. He didn’t expect Eddie to be the one to make the first move though but it puts a smile on his face.

“Yeah, of course! You two should come over tonight so we can catch up.”

“Yes!” Robin says, excitedly. “You can tell us all about your fun adventures!”

“That would be nice,” you smile. “I missed hanging out with you guys.”

“Yeah, me too, surprisingly.” Eddie snorts.

“Don’t act like you didn’t cry over us every day, Edward,” Robin teases him, looking between you two. Her eyes suddenly flash with curiosity. “Hey wait, where are you two staying?”

You and Eddie share a look, smiling at one another before you turn back to her.

“Wayne helped us get an apartment! We moved all the boxes in and some of the furniture from our old place earlier,” Eddie explains, moving his hand to the small of your back. “The place is just around the corner.”

“It’s cool, we love it. And the landlord is a really nice lady.”

Robin and Steve slowly turn towards one another, sharing the same look as realization dawns on them both.

Lizzy, the really nice old lady, told Robin about the couple that was moving in next door just last night.

Steve purses his lips, slowly looking back at you, “w-wait..”

“Umm, your landlord doesn’t happen to go by the name of Lizzy?”

Eddie raises his brows at them both, nodding.

“Yeah! She was sweet and she complimented me – oh! And she told me how much her husband looked like Eddie when he was young!” You giggle.

Steve’s lips part in surprise and Eddie almost wants to laugh at his expression until Robin opens her mouth.

“Wow, she must’ve had two husbands then because apparently Steve also looked like her husband!” She says, chuckling as she takes in the confused looks on your and Eddie’s faces.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose, mumbling something under his breath as his cheeks flush red at Robin’s comment.

“W-Wait what?” Eddie stutters, tilting his head at her. “How do you – huh?”

While your boyfriend takes longer to realize what is going on, it only takes you a second to understand that your landlord is also Steve’s and Robin’s landlord.

“So.. you are the couple who’s moving in next door?” Steve waves his finger between you and Eddie.

“Next door?” Eddie mumbles. “Didn’t you – wait, I thought you still lived in that apartment next to Radio Shack?”

You nod at his words, you thought the same thing.

Steve and Robin share a look, both sighing at the mention of their old place.

“Yeah, we moved out of that one two weeks ago, it was a shithole, honestly.”

Robin nods with her eyes wide. Tapping her fingers against the counter, “yep.”

You and Eddie chuckle in confusion, taking in their ‘traumatized’ faces.

“What was wrong with that place?”

“Oh, it’s a long story!” Steve laughs, scratching the back of his neck. “We’ll tell you all about it later.”

“Yes! We’ll order some takeout, have a couple of drinks and you two can tell us all about Chicago!” Robin smiles.

Excitement rushes through you. You missed your friends, you missed Robin and Steve.

Eddie squeezes your arm, he looks down at you.

You meet your boyfriend’s loving eyes, he nods at you.

A smile tugs at your lips, you lean your head on his shoulder and turn back to your friends.

“We’d love to.”

Steve’s eyes light up, he smiles at you, clapping his hands together.

“You’ll get to meet cat!” He chuckles.

Robin chuckles at his excitement, she runs her fingers through her hair, “Steve and I are gonna order the food!”

“And we’ll get the drinks,” Eddie winks at her.

She clicks her tongue, winking back at him.

Steve chuckles at them, he looks back at you, “alright then, neighbors,” he says with a funny look on his face. “I’ll drop by your place after work, gotta see and make sure that you didn’t get the better apartment.”

A laugh falls from your lips, “we totally did, Stevie.”

“You wish,” he smirks.

“The place is a mess, we gotta get some stuff done.”

“Like what?” Steve asks, looking at Eddie. “I can help.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I got it,” Eddie smiles, though he appreciates the offer.

“I’m off this weekend, so if you need anything, let me know.”

You’re pleasantly surprised to see them getting along with each other.

Time has passed, things have changed, feelings have changed. But nonetheless, you expected more tension between them – you are happy that it’s not the case.

And as they fall into a conversation, you and Robin smile at each other, knowing that things will be different this time.

Steve’s and Robin’s place is a little bigger than yours and Eddie’s. It’s colorful, not overwhelming though, it’s comforting and cozy. String lights are hanging from the ceiling, posters of Indie bands on the living room walls, pillows and blankets on the couch, you remember seeing those on Robin’s bed in her old room at her parent’s place.

Boxes of takeouts, drinks and snacks are all across the small table. Music plays in the background.

You’re sitting on the floor, a box of polaroids in front of you, a smile lingering on your face as you look through the pictures that were taken in the past two years.

Robin is next to you, telling you the stories behind every picture.

“He is such a cute little thing,” Eddie coos at the kitten in his lap, chuckling when he digs his claws into his shirt, using it to crawl up on his chest. Cat purrs as he rubs against Eddie’s face. “Damn, you’re making me want a cat too.”

Steve takes a sip from his beer, leaning back on the couch, “you should get one, they’re adorable.”

“Can’t believe you didn’t name him yet.”

“Yeah, everyone has been suggesting names!” Robin exclaims, looking away from the picture of her and Chrissy. “He hates every single one!”

Steve rolls his eyes at her, “they just don’t fit, Robby!”

“I fear he’s gonna be Cat forever,” Eddie pouts as he pets him.

You put the last picture back in the box and stand up, smoothing down your skirt and Eddie’s shirt that you changed into after your shower earlier. You sit down next to Eddie, snuggling against his side – the moment you do so, Steve’s cat makes his way towards you, jumping into your lap and looking up at you with his green eyes.

Your eyes light up, your heart soars in your chest as you pick him up and pull him closer, setting him down on your chest.

“Hey there, little buddy,” you whisper, smiling as he snuggles deeper into your chest, purring as he digs his claws into your shirt. “You are such a sweet little angel.”

Eddie chuckles, reaching his hand out to pet his head.

“You love those boobs don’t you, Cat?” He smirks. “I do too. They’re so fun to play with.”

“Eddie!” You gasp.

Robin laughs at his words and at the flustered look on your face.

Steve shakes his head, snorting.

“He is a very innocent little thing,” you coo at the kitten, scratching the spots behind his ears, he keeps purring, closing his eyes as he lays his head on your chest. “Oh my god, I love him.”

Eddie smiles down at you as you lay your head on his shoulder, he wraps his arm around you.

Steve leans his elbow on the headrest, looking between you and Eddie, the way you are so natural and comfortable with each other – it’s nothing new to him, you have always been like that with one another, maybe slightly less touchy.

The look in Eddie’s eyes as nothing but pure love and adoration as he laughs when Cat licks your nose.

You giggle, scrunching up your nose and closing your eyes.

He can’t describe the feeling in his chest at this moment, but seeing you so happy, seeing the love between you and Eddie makes him feel at peace.

Two years ago, he let go.

A part of him will always think back to it, back to you and to what you both had.

But he let go, and it’s good like this because he still got to keep you in his life, maybe not like before, but he is happy with what he gets to have now.

You left and you both lived separate lives.

But you came back and you’re here again.

And maybe, you both can go back to how things were before you crossed the line and left behind a friendship that you both mourn.

“Hey Dolly?”

You turn your face towards him, looking into his warm eyes, “yes?”

“Do you have some name suggestions?” He asks. “You always named the stray cats so..”

A smile pulls at your lip, “hmm.”

Robin reaches for the bowl of popcorn on the table, placing it on her lap, she begins snacking as she shoots you a look, “I’m warning you, he’s gonna hate all the names.”

“Shut it, Robs.”

She flips him off, causing Eddie to chuckle at their interaction.

You hum as you look at the black kitten on your chest, “void.”

Eddie snorts, “that’s a good one.”

Steve sighs, shaking his head.

“He rubbed off on you,” he mumbles, nudging Eddie’s shoulder. “What would the child, innocent and pure 10 year old Dolly name this cat?”

You giggle at him, turning away to look back down at him.

“Hmm… Stevie!”

Robin and Eddie laugh at your name suggestion.

“What?”

You look over at Steve, who’s staring at you like he’s waiting for you to continue.

“Not you. The cat! Call him Stevie – he gives off Stevie energy.”

Steve scrunches his whole face up, “I am not naming the cat after me! Seriously, do you guys even try?”

You all laugh at the disapproving look on his face.

“Ozzy,” Eddie shrugs.

“Huh?”

“Ozzy Osbourne,” Eddie says to Steve. “You know, from Black Sabbath?”

Steve stares at him with furrowed brows and downturned lips. But as he watches his cat claw his way out of your lap and jumps over Eddie to get to him, he looks up at him, yawning as he settles in his lap.

“Ozzy,” Steve murmurs, petting him. Steve smiles when he starts purring. “Yeah, I think he likes that one.”

“Is that a yes?”

Steve’s eyes meet Eddie’s, a smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah, shit.. you got a name, buddy,” he chuckles as he looks back down at Ozzy.

Robin claps her hands, “finally!” She cheers. “Wow, I can’t believe you let Eddie name the cat.”

“Does that mean you’re both his parents?” You ask, giggling.

Eddie snorts, pulling you closer as he smirks down at you.

“Sure, but I got full custody of my child,” Steve jokes.

Two years back, Steve would have rolled his eyes at your joke but now he just laughs and plays along.

You have noticed how much he changed.

Your last moments with him, before you left, weren’t the happiest. He was sad, heartbroken and lost. But now he seems content, happy. Even after his failed attempts at dating again, he doesn’t seem sad or heartbroken over it. He told you about his horrible date experiences with Heidi and Amanda – and he didn’t seem pained while he was talking about it, he was amused, that’s all. He tried dating and he gave up, not because he wasn’t ready but because he is just not looking for love or a relationship – ‘It will happen when the time is right.’ He said.

He is more relaxed now, calm and he seems more confident with himself. You like seeing him this way, he deserves to feel comfortable with himself.

“A cat is good training for kids someday,” Robin says, leaning back as she throws popcorn into her mouth.

“Oh really? Do you want kids?” Eddie chuckles.

Robin shakes her head with wide eyes, “hell no. I’m not Steve, he’s the one with a car full of kids.”

“Do I look like I have a bunch of kids?” Steve mumbles, confused.

“Yeah.” All three of you reply in unison.

“You have six kids already.”

He rolls his eyes but chuckles, “they’re not even kids anymore!”

“Maybe you can babysit their kids soon,” Robin wiggles her brows as she nudges her chin at you and Eddie.

“Oh my god,” you groan, shaking your head at her.

Steve suddenly frowns, blinking as he stares at you and Eddie, “wait, where’s your bedroom again?”

“Huh?”

“Your bedroom, what side is it on? Cause our last neighbors were fucking like rabbits!”

“Yeah it was disgusting!” Robin mumbles.

“You’re one to talk!” Steve glares at her. “I have to wear earplugs every time Chrissy comes to visit, they’re fucking rabbits too.”

She grows red, rolling her eyes at him.

You laugh at the flustered look on her face.

“Yeah, I hope you still have those earplugs,” Eddie chuckles. “Our room is right over there.”

Robin groans loudly as she looks at the wall he’s pointing at.

Steve sighs.

“We got kicked out of our last apartment because we fu–”

“Eddie!” You punch his arm, cheeks feeling hotter than before as you shake your head at him.

Steve and Robin stare at you both in disbelief.

“No, I swear. They kicked us out cause we were too loud,” Eddie says proudly, while you continue shaking your head.

“And you will get kicked out a second time if you don’t keep quiet,” Robin points at him with a glare.

Steve laughs, shaking his head as he brings up his drink to his lips.

“Time to use the ball gag, baby,” Eddie smirks.

Steve chokes on his beer, eyes widening at Eddie’s words.

“Jesus fucking christ, Eddie!” You gasp, burying your face in your hands.

Robin laughs loudly, throwing her head back.

“God damn,” Steve coughs, furrowing his brows at you. “I thought you were a good girl, Dolly.”

Eddie snorts at that, looking over at Steve to see him smirking.

You glare at them both, but you can’t even hide how flustered you are.

“Robin, help me out.”

“No, I’m having too much fun here.”

Rolling your eyes, you push Eddie’s arm off and get up with a sigh, “I need another drink,” you mumbled under your breath as you leave the living room in a haste. You hear their snickers even when you enter the kitchen, you can hear Eddie saying something that makes Steve groan and Robin laugh even harder.

You shake your head but a smile tugs at your lips.

You reach for the handle on the fridge when your eyes fall on the picture next to the many magnets. Your smile transforms into a softer one. It’s an old picture of Steve and you.

You remember that day, it was his birthday, his sixteenth birthday. His dad had gotten him the BMW. The moment he had gotten those keys, you grabbed your polaroid camera, you wanted to take a picture of him and his new car but Steve had pushed the camera into his mom’s hands and asked her to take a picture of the two of you in front of his new ‘baby’.

You were still best friends at that time. Steve's arm was wrapped around your shoulder, you were wearing a cardigan that was way too big for you, it hid the pretty dress you were wearing underneath. You looked so happy in that picture and so did he. You were smiling into the camera but Steve was looking at you with a big smile on his face, eyes that were still shining with happiness and love.

“You looked so small standing there in your cardigan.”

You flinch, looking back in surprise.

Steve is leaning against the doorway, looking at you.

“You scared me,” you chuckle, putting your hand on your chest.

“I’m sorry,” he smiles as he walks into the kitchen. “My mom gave me this picture when I moved out.”

“Oh, that’s where it was!”

He nods.

“Yeah. I remember how excited I was to go for a drive and forced you into the passenger seat,” he says, chuckling at the memory. “She put that picture into an album.”

You smile, looking down.

“You ever miss those days?” He asks, leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed. “When we just got into high school, we'd just drive around, listen to music, go to the movies..”

“Eat junk food, gossip about the bad hair styles in the magazines,” you add, laughing.

“Exactly,” he nods.

“Yeah, sometimes. Cause back then things were simple and we were just teenagers who still lived in that safe little bubble.”

“Yeah,” he sighs but he smiles at you.

“I kinda miss talking shit about bad hairstyles,” you laugh.

He nudges your shoulder with his, “hey, we can still do that. I mean with the addition of Eddie and Robin now,” he chuckles as his eyes soften. “Eddie is… kinda.. cool now. I think we’ll get along better now.”

Your gaze softens, eyes shining with happiness.

“That’s all I wanted,” you whisper.

You wanted your best friend back in your life and you wanted your other best friend, your boyfriend to get along with him. But you knew that it might not ever be possible, because sometimes, time changes nothing – you hope that it did in this case, though.

“You know, I’m kinda excited to have you as my neighbor.”

Your eyes flash with surprise, your lips twitch. You weren’t sure how he would actually feel about this, having you and Eddie as his neighbors.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I can bother you all day now,” he smirks. “And Eddie too. I’ll blast pop music every night.”

A laugh falls from your lips, “don’t mess with Eddie, he will come over with his guitar,” you chuckle. “His electric guitar.”

He snorts.

“I’m not even kidding,” you giggle as you think about all the performances Eddie had given to you – sometimes wearing nothing but boxers while you laid in bed, watching him with a smile on your face.

“I believe you,” he chuckles. “It’s Eddie we’re talking about, he always loved his dramatic performances.” He refers to all the speeches your boyfriend had held on the lunch tables in the cafeteria.

“He really did.”

Steve watches the way your eyes glow with love as you think back to the times where you and him would watch Eddie jump around on the lunch tables. Had someone told him back then, that Eddie would end up being your boyfriend and he your ex boyfriend, he would probably have had a mental breakdown over it or maybe he would have laughed, not believing that you would end up with a metalhead instead of him.

When you left, he spent a lot of time wondering what would have happened if he never left you.

Would you have still met Eddie?

Would you have been the one to leave him the way he left you for her?

Was everything supposed to go this way because you and Eddie were always meant to be together?

So many what if’s had haunted him for a long time after you left but not anymore.

He made peace with everything, a long time ago.

He loves you, he always will.

You will always have a special place in his heart as he will have one in yours.

And seeing you so happy and in love with Eddie, doesn’t fill him with pain anymore, it fills him with joy because this is what you deserve – to love and to be loved ten times more.

And even if his wishes from the past didn’t come true, he is still happy because even after everything, you came back and he gets to have you in his life again.

You still wear his locket and he still wears your wristband – you are still special to each other, you are still best friends.

You left behind your first love but you never left your friendship behind.

“You know, I was a little worried that you forgot about me,” you tease him.

His eyes flash with sadness, a soft smile appears on his face as he takes your hand in his.

“I could never forget you, Dolly,” he whispers, squeezing your hand. “You’re my best friend.”

A breathy laugh falls from your cherry red lips, your bangs fall in front of your eyes as you look down for a moment.

“You’re my best friend too, Stevie,” you whisper, looking back up.

You both smile at each other, eyes filled with happiness and a love that you carried for one another as kids.

As you stand there and look at one another, you know that everything is okay now, everything is good.

There is no sadness between you both anymore, no tears, no pain, no heartbreak.

You’re both okay.

You’re both happy.

This love will last forever.

He lets go of your hand and brings it up to your face, pinching your cheek as 10 year old Steve would do.

“Come on, Dolly,” he teases, laughing when you swat his hand away, just like 9 year old Dolly would do. “I’ll race you to the living room.”

You roll your eyes at the cocky smirk on his face as he starts to walk backwards.

“You know I’m faster than you.”

“Oh, are you?” He chuckles.

“Yes, I am.”

Before Steve can even react, you move past him and push him back a little before you run out of the kitchen, laughing loudly when he groans.

He runs after you, reaching for your elbow but you push his hand off and bolt into the living room.

“Eddie, help!” You giggle.

Your boyfriend straightens up, watching you with an amused look on his face as you run past Robin and hide behind the lovechair.

“No, help me! She plays dirty!” Steve exclaims.

“Is that true, sweetheart?” Eddie smirks, his brown eyes flashing with mischief as he stands up.

You shake your head, pouting.

Eddie chuckles at that, moving towards you, while Steve walks towards you on the other side.

Your lips part as you watch them, eyes widening when they glance at each other with smirks on their faces.

“You’re teaming up on me!? You’re my boyfriend, you’re supposed to protect your princess!” You giggle as you start walking backwards. Glancing at Robin who watches the three of you in amusement while Ozzy sits on her lap, looking between the three of you.

“Are you good princess or bad princess, right now?”

Steve furrows his brows, looking over at your boyfriend, “why do I have a feeling that this means something dirty?”

“Because it is,” Robin gags.

You and Eddie smirk at each other – but your smirk quickly falls when Eddie suddenly lunges forward, you turn around, trying to run but he wraps his arms around you, picking you up with ease, “got ya, baby,” he whispers in your ear and kisses your shoulder and then your neck, making you giggle softly.

“She’s definitely bad princess, right now.” Steve snorts.

Eddie pulls you back towards the couch, holding you tightly as his fingers dig into your waist, making you squirm beneath his touch.

“Well, I captured the bad princess,” Eddie jokes, murmuring into your hair.

You giggle, your heart fluttering at the feeling of his hands on your skin. You place your hands over his, laughing when he pulls you down on the couch with him.

“Hold on tight to her,” Steve chuckles, smiling at Eddie.

Eddie tightens his grip on you in response, smiling when you turn around to face him, your smile mirroring his. His heart flutters in his chest – just the way yours does as you look into your boyfriends beautiful eyes.

“I always will.”

Robin looks between you and Eddie with a smile on her face. A strand of Eddie’s hair gets stuck on your eyelash, making you both laugh when he tries to pull it away. She looks up at Steve, he watches the two of you and for a moment, Robin fears that old wounds will be ripped open again, that even after two years, she will have to hold him again while he cries because he won’t ever get you back the way he had you before – but, the smile on his face isn’t faked, it’s very real and it isn’t a sad one.

“Hey Steve?”

Steve tears his eyes away from you and looks at Eddie.

“Yeah?”

“Do you wanna watch Pretty in Pink with us?”

Robin laughs, watching Steve’s face contort into annoyance.

“No!”

Eddie and you giggle at the look on his face.

“Anything but Pretty in Pink!”

“Anything?” Eddie raises his brows.

“Yeah.”

“But what if I wanna watch Pretty in Pink with you, Stevie?” You pout.

“Yeah,” Eddie chuckles, cupping your cheeks with one hand, he squishes them slightly. “Can you really say no to that cute face?”

He sighs, tilting his head as he looks at you.

“I can already tell, you two are gonna be menaces, even more so than Robin and Chrissy!”

Robin scoffs, rolling her eyes at Steve.

“Nah,” Eddie shakes his head, letting go of your cheeks, he pulls you closer. “You’re gonna love us.”

Steve sits down on the loveseat, smiling when Ozzy jumps out of Robin’s lap and runs towards him, he leans down and picks him up when he sits down by his feet. He pulls the kitten into his lap, letting him snuggle against his chest.

“Will I?” Steve asks, frowning playfully.

“Oh yeah,” Eddie chuckles, kissing your cheek.

“You definitely will, Stevie.”

You lay your head on Eddie’s shoulder and you look around, happy to be in a room with your favorite people. Excitement lingers inside of you, to be back here with Eddie, to settle in for good this time, to see your friends again – to see Eddie and Steve getting along, to see Robin and Chrissy together again, to hang out with Heather and Argyle again.

You place your hand over Eddie’s left hand, playing with the silver band on his finger – the one that matches your own, the one you put on each other’s fingers that one night in Vegas.

And you look around the room again, the conversation as trivial as possible. Your boyfriend and your best friend getting along – when two years ago this would have never happened.

It’s happiness, pure and absolute happiness and you are hoping that it will stay that way.

“Dolly, tell Eddie that Fleetwood Mac is superior to Iron Maiden, please!” Steve says with a smile, and you can’t even answer as you feel your eyes burn slightly from the joy your heart is feeling.

Yes.. now you are sure that this happiness will linger forever.

Like a tattoo.

@taintedcigs @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @trashmouth-richie @corrodedcorpses @corrodedseraphine @take-everything-you-can @munson-mjstan @sherrylyn628 @somethingvicked @nemesis729 @succubusmunson @xxhellfirebunnyxx

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington series #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson series

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themuseoftheviolets · 7 months

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the second i get my first paycheck at my new job i'm running to a tattoo shop whether to get a tattoo or a piercing idk but i'm running

#i miss my piercings. i want a tattoo so bad.#and if i can i'm running to my hairdresser and dying my hair purple i can't stand not having colored hair anymore mentally cursing 2020 me #for box black dying my hair in a breakdown i could have had so many different colors these past couple years but nooo i had to spend them #growing that shit out #well that off track fast.#anyways. hair tattoo piercings i am coming for ya #this wont be for a while but i am coming #diary entry

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uvuyai · 3 months

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ძᥲᥡ 2 ~ һᥙmіᥣіᥲ𝗍і᥆ᥒ + 𝗍ᥡіᥒg ᥙ⍴ [EVENT]

Yandere! Blade x FEM! Reader

–genre. Smut, nsfw

–tw. Blood, skin carving, humiliation, skin writing, non-con, creampie, sadist!blade, spanking, porn with plot(maybe), size difference, stomach bulge, choking, overstimulation, possessive behaviors, blade is called ren, mentions of the hard R in the beginning, neglect, degradation, reader is blades reincarnated lover, prone bone, MINORS DNI, non consensual touching, nipple play, SW and Kafka is helping blade, headlocking, dub-con, blood,

–synopsis. You've been kidnapped by the swordsman of the Stellaron Hunters and brought to their headquarters. It's Valentine's Day and he planned something special.

Mari/yai's message – just know i was very uncomfortable with writing this. I've been drawing lately so it's been a while.

You were tied up in the basement of the Stellaron Hunters headquarters. You were just walking down the streets of luofu till you were grabbed into an alleyway and a cloth covering your mouth and then you inhaled chloroform, passing out into the person's(or thing) arm. When your captor brought you back to where they lived, they introduced themselves as Blade but he told you to call him ren.

Blade. As in the wanted criminal and part of the Stellaron Hunters?

After a while he got tired of your useless attempts at escaping (mostly snitched on by Kafka or Silverwolf by telling blade you escaped.), and then forcefully forced himself onto you. After that he left you.

He would come back occasionally if Kafka told him so if he didn't want you to die. He would bring you clothes and food to keep you alive and helped you take care of your hygiene. You didn't eat in front of him and just pretend to be asleep most of the time in the corner of the mattress.

You tried talking to him but couldn't since your stuttering held you back and you couldn't make eye contact with him since he fiery red eyes would stare into your soul, stunning it immediately.

He brought you stuff like a note book to draw or use it as a diary. Since you barely could get your words out, you wrote ‘Why did you kidnap me?’ on a page. He only muttered the word “Lover” and left it at that.

Well today was Valentine's day as you'd know by the calendar beside your bed. You still didn't love him or let yourself develop Stockholm Syndrome. If you could tell, he hated it.

You behaved well for the days, months, or even years he captured you. He let you out of your ropes and lets you walk around the basement. Various furniture was added like a desk that faced a window(that was very hard to break), a bed set, and a built in shower.

Silver Wolf gave the glory to Blade that he can have one of her old games but he decided to give it to you so you wouldn't be as bored when he went.

Kafka came down and called out for you. You raised your head from your pillow and looked at her with sleepy doe eyes. “C'mon dearie, Blade will be home soon and he has something planned for you.” she grabbed your forearm and dragged you to the bathroom and ran you a bath as if you were her child. She helped you shave your legs(and everywhere else including pubic) and did your hair into something simple. She gave you pink Valentine's Day themed lingerie undergarments to put underneath the white lace night gown.

You wished you knew why Blade suggested Kafka to give you this. The clothes fit you nicely. Your mind was all over the place as you thought about how Blade got the correct measurements of your bra and panties.

Kafka led you out of the bathroom and back to your bed and went back up stairs and came back down with a low black gift box. She skied the top off the box to reveal red ribbons. The box was branded so it must've been from a sex store or somewhere that was expensive. You thought it was for your hair otherwise it's weird to come in a box like that.

Kafka placed her hands behind her back and closed her eyes and let out a pitiful sigh. “I'm sorry, dear.” Before you could turn around something rough and hard hit the back of your head. It put you to sleep on impact.

She dragged your body to your bed and threw you on your bed, grabbing the ribbon and tied it tightly around your legs and wrist. The extras went around your waist and torso. You were truly a beautiful doll. She wrapped soft cloth around your mouth and eyes. Just breathe through

She left the room and as if on cue, Blade stepped through the door. In his deep voice, he spoke. “Did you do what I asked?” Kafka nodded her head and gave off her signature smile. “I did but I had to neutralize her because she was struggling too much for my comfort.” she was obviously lying. He could obviously tell too.

He stepped his way to the basement where you were. He heard distant whimpering and sobs which were coming from you. He reached you and noticed your squirming. Your breath hitched as you heard boots stepping your way. The ribbons were hurting way too much to even ignore for a bit.

“Hey waterlily, It's really disappointing how you didn't behave for her.” he breathed. “You should be punished for that. I see she did most of the work.” you heard something slam on the nightstand next to your bed.

He hooked his finger underneath the blindfold to reveal your doe stricken eyes.

His lips lifted into a smirk while he trailed his bandaged fingers from your face to your collarbone. He noticed your squirming got more vapid. You shook your head as you didn't want him to continue.

His hand ripped the strap that was holding the gown, revealing your covered breast. Your face felt as if it was burning from embarrassment. He pushed you onto your back and got on top of you. Your muffled protests became unheard as he grabbed scissors and cut the straps from your bra, removing it, and revealing your tits.

“You look like a slut... Begging for someone's attention.” he laughed. “That someone's attention you want is me.” he dug into his pants pocket and pulled out a knife and a permanent marker.

He slid the knife down your torso, the force was enough for it to draw blood. He leaned down and lapped at the blood while maintaining eye contact with you. Tears ran down your face and dried ones were replaced.

He fully discarded your dress and panties and threw them somewhere on the bed or ground. He used his gloved hand to finger you. Your slick immediately gathering on his hand. “Has all this fear got to you? I would've mistaken you for being a masochist, y'know.”

He unbuckled his pants and slid down his boxers that revealed his large, thick throbbing dick. It was flushed red at the tip and a white bead of precum was drooling from the slit. He thrusted two fingers into your cunt. He wanted to prep you since it's been a while since he had done anything with you. The stimulation was overwhelming. You desperately tried to kick him away but he grabbed your waist and replaced his finger with his dick rubbing against your pussy. Your juices covered the downside of his dick.

He leaned back to position his dick between your pussy lips. He thrusted up into your pussy, hitting your spongy spot on impact. A little blood covered his dick as well. A bulge would pop up with each thrust of his hips. Your scream was muffled and you leaned your head back on the pillow. You were biting at the cloth that was covering your mouth. It was covered in your saliva as well.

Blade hooked a finger underneath the cloth and pulled it down. Your breathing was harsh in a way that if it was cold, air would come from your mouth. As his thrusts started to pick up and your juices webbed his whole dick, he picked the knife back up and started to engrave a letter below your tits. The letter was his initial, the letter ‘B’. The icy hot pain was all over your body(it wasn't but it felt like it but mainly between your thighs), Blade licked the blood up, enjoying the metallic iron taste from it. His dick landed painful hits to your cervix, making you grimace at the feeling.

During that, yelps, whines, and moans were heard through the basement. If you were loud enough, Kafka and Silver Wolf would hear.

His thrust got more erratic. His thrusts were sure that by the time he finished your pussy would be gapping open and molded into the shape of his cock. You tried to cover your moans by turning your head to the side and trying to muffle them as much as possible. Blade was quick to grab your face, squishing your cheeks together as he got up in your face while looking at your unfocused eyes filled with tears. He trailed his eyes down back to where he drew the letter below your tits.

He slowly itched a small cross(which was a plus sign,) and after a while, he carved your first name initials after. It looked like those cheesy trends where it shows what initials are meant to be for example; B + Y. He did all of this while keeping his thrusts while you squirted your juices onto his lower abdomen and cock. He grabbed the permanent marker and drew a small heart around the heart.

He grabbed you by the shoulders and squished you against his chest. He rocked his hips back and forth and wrapped his arm around your waist to keep you steady. “You are such a slut. Nothing but my cum dump.” The cold permanent marker touched your skin, sending shivers down your spine and to your core. He wrote a few words like “CUMDUMP”, ”SLUT”, and “Blades/ren's property” on your back. He placed a few humiliating words on your collarbone so anyone could see it and also remind him what you are to him.

You pussy clenched around his dick, signaling your. “You wanna cum, yeah? Then cum. Cum for me.” he said between grunts. Your string of moans and mewls of being overstimulated, he released his cum inside you. Your stomach was slightly bloated and thick, sticky cum leaked out of your cunt and onto the bedsheets(it had little bubbles in them and stuck together like a spider web).

Blade was quick to flip you onto your stomach with your ass in the air. He grabbed the knife and released your wrist from the ropes binding them together. Your wrists were finally able to breathe. His rough hands grab at your wrist, pulling them to make you arch your back further.

He angled his cock back at your entrance, pushing his hips forward and his cum and your juices acting together as a secondary lube. The movement of his hips grew faster as time passed.

He leaned down to where his chest was touching your back. He resumed his torcher and thrust into you so hard he could break into your cervix and split you apart. His hand snaked up to your neck, squeezing it slightly so it wasn't hard enough to stop your breath. He used it to angle your head so he could kiss you. You moaned into his mouth and drooled all over his tongue.

His thrust started to get sloppy and he felt your breath get harsher from you breathing through your mouth. He wrapped both of his thick bulging arms around your neck, placing you in a loose headlock. A hand slipped down and tugged at your nipple. You released the kiss as you tried to get your breath back by sticking your tongue out. He placed a loud smack on your ass which made you come on his dick, stunning you.

He came inside you for the second time. You don't know how long he'll be doing this for as you feel his dick hardened inside you.

;(

#𓆩ri.𓆪 #✉️.txt #[ ♪o(〃＾▽＾〃)o♪ ]#✎ suggestive 𓆪 #𓆩!smutty.𓆪 #✎ yandere #𓆩ri.txt📝𓆪 #yandere x reader #yandere smut #blade x reader #blade smut #blade x reader smut #honkai blade x reader #yandere blade #yandere blade x reader #honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #✎ characters from other clubs #[ .nsfw ]

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watchmegetobsessed · 4 months

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NOW AND FOREVER (part 2)

A/N: these two got stuck in my head and seemingly in yours as well, so lets see some more of them! part 1 is linked under the summary if you haven't read it!

WORD COUNT: 3.4k

PAIRING: princess!reader x guard!harry

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: To be eligible for the throne, you need to get married. The past few years have been dedicated to finding a king for you, but now that you're secretly dating your guard, these attempts are a bit more complicated than before.

PART 1 | MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

There’s that scene in The Princess Diaries when they are choosing a possible husband out of a slide show for Mia. You used to find it funny when you were younger and made jokes to your parents that you want to do it too. They laughed, but exchanged a look you didn’t understand back then.

Now you do.

There are two requirements you need to meet to take the throne. The first one is to be at least 25 years old. That box has been ticked for three years now, the real problem is the second one. Because as outdated that law in the movies was, it is your reality. You have to be married, you can’t take the throne without a man.

As a teenager you didn’t think much of it, because you pictured yourself to meet a handsome prince, marry him and then become queen, easy as it is. But as you grew older and dating was proven to be impossible as a princess, anxiety and panic started to set in that you’d end up in an arranged marriage just to become eligible for ruling Eroda.

Then came Harry, you fell for him and he fell for you, but it just complicated things even more, because he is not from royal blood, not even close to being an aristocrat, therefore you can never marry him.

For the past few years most of the social events you’ve attended had a not so hidden second purpose: finding a husband.

Never ending rounds of introductions to single men, awkward chatting that ended up in asking you out on a date that you declined politely most of the time, followed by a sermon from your father about needing to settle soon, because he is not getting younger and you need to be eligible for the throne as soon as possible. You always tried your best to just ignore him, but ever since you and Harry have become an item secretly it’s been extremely hard to hold your tongue and not tell him that you have found the man you want to spend the rest of your life with, but he can’t be king, because he is your guard.

It’s such an impossible situation and you have no idea where it’s going to lead.

Now it’s another one of those occasions, the opening of the Spring Festival is just another opportunity to fill up the palace’s ballroom with all kinds of single men from around the country and even outside as well.

You know people are filling up the room already while you’re still in your suite. Your hair is done, makeup perfect, wearing a gown that costs probably way more than you feel comfortable with, but you’re never informed about how expensive your outfits are.

You’ll be announced in about fifteen minutes, walk down the stairs for the millionth time and start your rounds. You’d rather jump out the window than to meet all those people, but you have no choice.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Come in!” you call out and you see Harry step inside from the mirror. He is wearing his usual black suit, looking polished and threatening at the same time, but not to you. You see the man he is behind his thick walls, because there’s a door on that wall, just for you, wide open.

The door clicks behind him and he watches you turn around, his gaze runs down the length of your body and then up to your face again.

“Should I change?” you ask, arching an eyebrow at him teasingly.

“Do you want the honest or the brutally honest answer?”

Your lips stretch into a smile as you start to cross the room slowly, walking towards him while he remains standing in his spot.

“Both. The honest first.”

“You look stunning,” he replies, his eyes soft and loving. You stop just a few inches away from him.

“And the brutally honest one?”

There’s a short pause, you catch his eyes slip down to your chest and waist again before returning.

“I want to lock you in here and not let you close any men out there. I wish I could mark you mine.”

He knows how to turn you on within seconds with just a few words. He knows so well how much you like it when he gets possessive, ready to show it to the world that you belong to him and only him.

A shaky breath leaves your lips and just when you reach up to grab him by his neck there’s another knock on the door. forcing you to take a step back instead.

“Come in!” you answer when there’s enough distance between you and Harry, though your heart is still pounding in your chest as if it’s about to jump out and right into Harry’s hands.

Head of security, Clarke steps into the suite.

“Her Royal Highness, you’re expected to appear in ten minutes,” he informs you with a polite nod.

“Styles just arrived to walk me over. Thank you.”

The two men exchange a look before Clarke walks out. Taking a deep breath you turn to face Harry.

“Ready?”

“Sure,” you huff, earning a tiny smirk from him before he opens the door, but as you walk past him he stops you just for a split second to whisper into your ear.

“Mine,” is all he says and you keep walking as if that one word didn’t just make your knees wobble.

You use the walk to the ballroom to get your thoughts straight and not imagine how Harry would peel you out of this dress if you had some privacy…

They announce you and every pair of eyes are glued to you as you walk down the stairs and join the crowd. Endless rounds of introduction, the smile is frozen on your face and your feet are already sore from the heels, but you ignore the pain.

It always amazes you how uninteresting the men you meet are. How they can’t hold a conversation that doesn’t make you claw your eyes out. Thirty seconds into the chit-chat and you’re already planning your escape usually.

Tonight however there is one exception.

His name is Magnus, some kind of relative of the Swedish royal family, you don’t really care to be honest. At first he seemed just another one of the boring puppets, but he soon proved to actually have a personality and your status didn’t stop him from showing it.

His almost inappropriate, a bit risky jokes are what keep you sane tonight. He just knows what makes you laugh and he has a great timing dropping his silent comments that are only meant for you.

“I think I’ll have a little break,” you tell him after a rather long conversation with some old baron you know you’ve seen a couple of times already, but can’t remember his name, only that he is always oddly curious about the neckline of your dress.

“I’ll be around here, dodging questions about my father’s political choices.”

You smile with a nod and then look around to find Harry. He is not far away, by a window, his eyes already glued to you when you make your way towards him.

“Bathroom break,” you announce to him with a smile, expecting to see that hidden glimmer in his eyes as usual, because this is always the time when you steal a few intimate moments, but he is different now. Something is off.

He nods without a word and escorts you out of the room. In those few minutes you go back to your suite you try to figure out what could have happened since you parted ways that could upset him this much. As always, he opens the door for you, one guard stays outside and he comes in with you.

He plants himself by the door, his hands clasped together in front of him as he keeps a straight face.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

He looks at you just for a second before turning his gaze towards the window, his jaw flexes and your worry just grows, you haven’t seen him this upset in a long time.

“Nothing is wrong,” he answers, but you both know it’s not true.

“I’m gonna ask you one more time, Harry. Just once more. What is wrong?”

Slowly, his eyes move back to you and for a moment, you forget to breathe, they’re so intense and darker than ever, as if all that gorgeous greenness is gone from them.

“Your little date must be waiting for you, better hurry.”

Amusement settles on your face and you can’t stop yourself from letting a laugh slip out.

“That’s your problem? Magnus?” His lips twitch at his name, but he doesn’t reply. “Harry, you know this is what’s expected from me. I have to pretend like I want to get to know the men out there.”

“I bet you didn’t have to pretend much when he came into the picture.”

“What are you talking about?!” you let out another frustrated laugh. You know he tends to get jealous, but you’ve never seen this side of him before.

“You seemed to enjoy his company a lot out there.”

“Because he is not a boring asshole like most of the men I’m usually introduced to.”

“Great. You two will look good as king and queen.”

You know he doesn’t mean it, that he is just pissed and feels helpless in our situation, but in this moment you simply can’t see over the nasty fog of anger.

“Oh you think so too? I agree,” is all you say before you march into your bathroom and shut the door closed.

There’s no more talking as you walk back to the ballroom, but even the blind could see the tension between the two of you. You catch the other guard that came with you giving Harry a puzzled look, but he didn’t dare to ask.

“Magnus!” you call out to him, making your way straight to him upon arriving when you spot him by a table. You can feel Harry’s burning gaze on your back, but tonight you’re in the mood to be petty.

“Your Royal Highness, you’re back!” he smiles brightly.

He is handsome, that’s for sure. Has great manners and an even greater sense of humor. The more you talk to him the more you think that you might be able to develop feelings for him in some years, or at least enough to live beside him in peace.

But those feelings would never live up to the love and passion you have for Harry.

You’re still angry at him, for how childish he was and thought that anyone could stand a chance when he’s in your life.

As the evening carries on your anger eases, though you’re still upset with him, you just want to be alone with him finally, touch him, kiss him, hear him call your name.

Magnus asks you out at the end of the night and you politely decline, he doesn’t seem offended, maybe a bit disappointed, but he masks it well. You say your rounds of goodbye and then finally make your way back to your suite, Harry walking right beside you.

The tension has somewhat lessened, but the vibes are still not the usual. You can’t tell what he’s thinking, if he is still as upset as before or he has cooled down, his face is so blank it irks you. Arriving at the suite you look at him, searching for any sign or feeling in his eyes, but they look back at you completely empty. So you walk in and lock yourself in your bathroom with trembling lips.

Normally Harry would sneak in later at night, but this time you don’t expect him to show up. Hoping to burn the feelings tonight left behind, you take a hot bath and try to carry on as if nothing happened, even though Harry is all you can think about.

Is it possible this is how things will end between the two of you? That this stupid little jealousy game is enough to pull you apart? You start to spiral heavily when you step out of the steamed up bathroom, but all your thoughts disappear the moment you notice you’re not alone.

Harry is sitting on the edge of your bed, still wearing his suit from tonight, but his black tie is gone and the top few buttons are undone on his perfectly white shirt. Unsure about where you’re standing and if he is still angry at you for the whole Magnus thing, you just stop halfway over to the bed, wrapped only in a silky robe.

For a while he just sits there, staring at you, silent and unreadable and right when you’re about to speak, he stands up and starts walking towards you, slowly, his eyes locked with yours. You’re waiting for him to say something, maybe lash out on you, or apologize, practically anything, because his silence is pure torture.

He stops right in front of you, if you took a deep breath your chest would be touching his, but he is still just staring down at you without a single word.

And you break.

“Harry, I–”

He doesn’t let you finish, instead, his lips smash against yours, one hand on the back of your neck, the other one grabbing your jaw as he moves forward, pushing you to move with him until your back hits the wall, his whole body pressed against you as he kisses you like never before.

He’s been rough with you before, but not like this. He is devouring your lips with the raw passion he had to hold back all evening, watching you parade around with another man while he wished he could show everyone in the room who you belong to.

You both are in a rush, he is practically tearing your robe off your body while you’re ridding him of his clothes in a frenzy. You don’t even get to pull his shirt off entirely and his pants are just pooling around his ankles when brings your legs around his waist and thrusts his throbbing cock into you, only to freeze once he’s buried deep inside you.

You both gasp, lips smearing against each other as you stare back at each other, savoring the feeling of being as physically close as possible finally. The events of tonight have turned, they are now a force between the two of you, pulling you closer and closer until you’re melted together as one.

You grab his face, tightening your legs around his waist as you breathe his name into his mouth before he starts moving.

He starts off slow, but he is quick to fasten his pace, your gasps fill the room and you’re thankful your whole suite is soundproof, just like almost all rooms in the palace. It’s the only reason why you could have been in a similar situation in the library, the guest room in the west wing and your study.

You’re tugging his hair and clawing at his back while he pounds into you relentlessly. At one point, most likely to muffle his moans, he bites into your shoulder and you faintly feel him sucking on the skin, but you’re just too gone to even realize what he is doing.

He is kissing you so hard your teeth are clashing as he comes, his movements fall out of his fast paced rhythm for a bit, but then he keeps going for you.

“Come on, baby. Give it to me, come on my cock,” he urges you, knowing you’re close too. “I know you’re there, I can feel you so tight around my cock, just give it to me.”

A few more rough thrust and you’re whining out his name, your orgasm spreading through your whole body in waves. He fucks you through it and only stops when he’s sure you’ve given him everything.

You stay like that, his cock buried inside you, his body pressing you up against the wall, foreheads resting against each other as you both try to catch your breath. When he pulls back you follow his eyes to your shoulder and see the reddish-purple mark he left on you.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he breathes out as he lets your legs down, your feet returning to the floor but he keeps an arm around your waist, knowing you probably don’t have much energy to stand on your own, his other hand comes up to your shoulder and he runs his fingers over the mark.

“It’s fine, I have makeup that covers anything,” you smirk at him. Secretly, you wish he’d let himself loose like this more often, you love seeing his mark on yourself.

You catch his face falling before he speaks again.

“And I’m sorry for tonight.”

You couldn’t be angry at him anymore, not even if you tried. The tenderness is back in his eyes and he is the Harry you love so much again.

“I’m sorry too.”

“No, you have nothing to apologize for,” he shakes his head. “You did nothing wrong, just… talked to a guy whose company was nice, after all those events full of assholes you always have to put up with. I was… jealous, because he got to be with you the way I want to.”

It stings in your chest, his confession hits hard now that it was said out loud, even though deep down you knew he felt like that, because you did too. You wished it could have been him.

With a gentle touch, you take his face between your hands and pull him in for a soft kiss.

“I know you know it, just probably forget it sometimes, but I’ll say it. No matter who they try to set me up with or how many princes and barons they throw into my way, I will only love and belong to you. Now and forever.”

You intentionally use his words and it seems to strengthen the message, you notice the tears in his eyes and you feel your throat closing up as well when you pull him in for another kiss, this time it’s longer and more passionate. You can taste his words on his tongue: I love you too.

When he pulls back you see the glimmer in his eyes, but then they disappear in a second.

“What’s wrong?” He shakes his head. “Harry, talk to me, please,” you beg him, pushing his hair back.

“It’s just… You’ll have to marry one day. You can’t be queen without marrying someone and I… I can’t be…”

He doesn’t want to say it out loud, as if it would make it more real, even though it’s as real as it could get.

“We’ll figure it out. I promise,” you tell him, running the pad of your thumb over his eyebrow, as if you wanted to memorize every feature of his face. When he looks into your eyes you know he doesn’t believe you, but he just nods. You don’t want to let him go like this, to end tonight on such a bitter note. “So… you’d want to marry me? You’re saying you would willingly have me as your wife?”

You see the switch in his eyes and the way the corners of his mouth curl up makes you lightheaded in a second.

“Did I say that?”

“You very much implied, yes,” you grin at him. “I’m surprised you’d want to put up with my big mouth and attitude, you get the most of them, because I can’t act up in public. Wouldn’t you get fed up with me after a while?” you ask teasingly.

“Mm, don’t let it get to your head, but I love your big mouth and attitude.” Leaning down his lips are now brushing against yours, but he is not kissing you just yet. “Especially… your mouth and everything it can do,” he adds in a whisper before finally sucking on your bottom lip.

He pulls you away from the wall and starts walking you towards the bed and you just smile widely against his mouth as you willingly move with him until you both fall into your bed and make the best out of the little time he gets to spend with you before he needs to sneak out.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut

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ineffable-suffering · 7 months

Text

Why Aziraphale is an unreliable narrator

Part 2: The Story of wee Morag

This is Part 2 of 3 total metas. Here are:

Part 1, in case you want to read about my analysis of the Story of Job first

and Part 3, in case you're impatient and want to jump ahead.

Fair warning though, for the sake of understanding some of the references, you're probably better off reading this chaptered meta chronologically. However, every part should work just as well as a standalone! I'll do my very best to make it so.

Alright, off or on you go beyond the cutty cut!

I'll start this second part off with a very brief summary of the main take aways and points from Part 1, which go as such:

Memory, as opposed to a third party's narration, is not a factual, objective retelling of a story or event. It's mingled and mangled with emotions, imaginations and exaggerations, projecting both the feelings and impressions you had back then as well as those you might have now in the present time back on whatever it is you are remembering. (Which is why we need to put everything that Aziraphale is remembering into the context of what he might have felt in the past, as well as what he's feeling right now.)

While this doesn't mean his (or anyone's) memories are lies, it does mean they're a very subjective and sometimes factually distorted representation of what actually happened, which, in our case, gives us a lot of subtext and a lot of not-there furniture to figure out and look at.

So, let's continue with S2E3 and the Story of wee Morag. We start our flashback with a scene of Aziraphale writing his diary entry on the 10th of November, 1827. Immediately, it's firmly established that this is once again not an outside-point-of-view narration, but rather what Aziraphale remembers and wrote down.

One thing that immediately stuck out to me here, is how helpful and kind Crowley is to Elspeth, pretty much from the very beginning when they meet her in the graveyard. Not only does he take on a Scottish accent so she won't perceive him as English (as she does with Aziraphale), but he also helps her drag the barrel that has the fresh body in it and, in the end, even pulls it all by himself while Elspeth simply follows behind them. Here's a rather poor-quality picture, for reference:

Now, we know that despite not showing it very often, Crowley has always been very fond of the humans and never really put himself on a pedestal simply because he's an immortal being himself. He likes humans, just like Aziraphale does. But, just like this story will tell us, Crowley knows that on top of liking humans, you can't just put them into boxes of good and evil and expect them to always do what is supposedly the "right" or "divinely good" thing to do. (Which is what differentiates him from Aziraphale in the way he understands and treats them, as we're shown in this minisode).

Him immediately and unspokenly helping Elspeth with dragging the barrel therefore might also be a first sign of a tiny projection from present day Aziraphale, as opposed to what Crowley might have actually done (probably just walked beside her, like Aziraphale) because he has the knowledge that Crowley really was so very kind to her in the end, wasn't he? And that he's kind to humans in general. ("Not kind! Off my head on Laudanum!" Sure, babe.)

Most of this minisode, in my opinion, is actually there to establish how Aziraphale's view of morality and good vs. evil used to be quite flawed and elitist –– and how Crowley has always been there to gently nudge him towards questioning his black and white view of heavenly right and hellishly wrong. That's why I think there's not as many hints in this minisode about Aziraphale's memories not being an accurate portrayal of what happened, as there are in the Story of Job or the magic show in 1941. (And, fear not, the latter will definitely be the most hint-heavy one). Alas, there's still a few bits and bobs in the Story of wee Morag that stuck out to me, that make a brief yet good case of the whole unreliable narration thing.

First of all: The way Aziraphale describes all of it in his diary is so different from the way we see him actually remembering it. It's almost like he tried to write this entry (and possibly all of his diary) as a bit of a thrilling short story, with himself as the main character. Which makes sense, given the fact that he adores books and would certainly be keen on dabbling in the art of capital-w Writing himself. It's yet again hinting at the fact that sometimes people (and angels) try to polish and bedazzle stories (and memories) to make them seem more exciting and adventurous, often to distract from the not-so-fun parts of it.

Like when Aziraphale's diary narrates:

"It was with heavy heart we arrived at Elspeth's destination. I was determined to thwart her monstrous plan!"

... and yet we see Crowley and Elspeth casually walking down the alleyway, very obviously not heavy-hearted in the slightest, while Aziraphale nervously scurries on behind them, very obviously not determined to thwart. (Timestamp-wise, it's around 17:38 in S2E3, in case you want to see for yourself.)

We get another cinematographic/auditory hint at the fact that Aziraphale's memory is heavily influenced by what he's feeling that very moment, when Dr. Mister Dalrymple –– FRCSE, thank you very much –– shows him the tumor he removed from the seven year old boy. You can see the shock and horror on Aziraphale's face once he learns of this child's cruel fate. We then proceed to hear Mr. Dalrymple's voice grow sort of echo-y and far away as the sad music swells up and drowns out his voice almost completely. It's awfully similar to what it feels like when really horrible news are broken to you and you dissociate and drift into a state of shock. Here's the clip of it, so you may listen for yourself:

It's clear that this is a very subjective portrayal of what Aziraphale is going through during this part of the memory. He's deeply horrified and saddened about the little boy having passed away so early in life – and we hear and feel this shock with him. Through him, because this is his memory. Whatever it is he's feeling and thinking, we're feeling and thinking it too because we're seeing it through his lense.

Another (less sad) hint at a possible exaggeration is the abnormally deep hole Crowley makes the two graveyard watch keepers fall into. I'm pretty sure he's very much in charge of his miracles, making this random slip-up seem a little silly – which is why I'm also pretty sure the "Might have slightly overdone it on that hole" is a wee bit of a meta hint at this just being another one of Aziraphale's dramatic bedazzlements of this story. For the *flings feather boa around neck* drama!

You know what else might be exaggerated? Hm, I dunno, maybe Crowley growing into the size of a tree for no apparent reason. Sure, yes, he's pretty high on Laudanum which is making him a bit loopy. But apart from that, it does seem an awfully big cinematographic euphemism for him being the metaphorical (and, once again, for the drama of it) literal bigger person in this scenario. He's the one who ends up saving Elspeth and who manages to secure a safe life without poverty and grave robbing for her. While Aziraphale was so tangled up in his own moral journey and main character-ism, missing that wee Morag was seconds away from death already, Crowley is the one who actually ends up growing stepping up for the human in need and saving them for good (pun intended).

In a way, it might just be Aziraphale's view of/feelings for Crowley in this very moment. Watching the demon outgrow what, according to Aziraphale's heavenly logic, is supposed to be a foul fiend, bestowing evil upon humanity – and growing into someone who does the exact opposite and saves Elspeth instead. Another larger-than-life character development, in Aziraphale's eyes. Literally.

Let's switch back to the topic of the diary entry one last time, so I can make my final point of the this minisode's unreliable and a smidge over-dramatic narration of Dr. McFell. If you pay close attention, Aziraphale starts the entry we're all getting to experience with: "Last month, Crowley and I both happened to be in Edinburgh." Which means it didn't actually happen on the 10th of November, but rather at some point in October, 1827. Once we see Crowley get hydro-pumped back to Hell after rescuing Elspeth, the minisode ends with, presumably, the last sentence of Aziraphale's diary entry: "And that was the last I would see of Crowley for quite some time."

Take my hand and let's look at where the furniture isn't: This very clearly means that Crowley couldn't have been gone for more than a month, at best. Read again: "It happened last month and that was the last I would see of him for quite some time." This, albeit indirectly, clearly implies that when Aziraphale had sat down to write the diary entry, he had already run into Crowley again. Otherwise his phrasing would have probably been more along the lines of "... and I haven't seen Crowley since" or "... and Crowley has yet to return from wherever it is Hell's currently keeping him".

What's the point I'm trying to make? Good question. I guess my main point of storyteller Aziraphale being a bit over-dramatic in his narration is simply backed up by this, since A Single Month would barely pass as "quite some time" for an immortal being like him. And yet that's how he puts it, in his little Confidential Journals of A.Z. Fell, Vol. 603.

And another point that has absolutely nothing to do with the topic of this meta (but I'm still gonna make it 'cause this is my memory post): The meeting at St. Jame's Park in 1862 that so many, post-S2, took to be their first run-in after the Story of wee Morag, actually wasn't that at all. They saw each other at least once only a month later, as Aziraphale's diary lets us know. Which explains why he wasn't very surprised or concerned when he met Crowley in London, 1862. If there really had been 35 years in between those two events, the first one ending with Crowley being sucked back Downstairs to receive more than three decades worth of hellish punishment, wouldn't Aziraphale have been at least a tiny bit worried or more interested than:

Just saying.

Alright, let's string this inflated hot air balloon of a post back together so we can outline some invisible furniture. This time with only two humble points:

Crowley through Aziraphale's lense Backed up by how we are introduced to Bildad the Shuhite in the Job minisode (suave, cheeky, smart, passionate in shoemaking and obstetrics), it's growing quite clear that Aziraphale's memories and impressions of Crowley are very fond and impressed ones. He sees him as someone who's not only witty, funny and cool, but also as someone who has figured out way sooner and faster than him that nothing's ever black and white. Not God's plans and not the human's choices either.

Aziraphale as a bit of an exaggerating adventure author With the direct parallel we get of inkslinger journalist!Aziraphale in the present day, it's quite apparent after this minisode that Aziraphale's memory is not only deeply influenced by his emotions, but that he also tends to have a bit of a dramatic touch to him. Although, you gotta give it to the guy: A month without seeing the love of your life, even if said life is eternal, can indeed seem like "quite some time".

Well, would you lookie here, we've reached the end of Part 2! What a journey it was. I hope you forgive me for the fact that I drifted off-course a few times. I just can't seem to reel in my silly little observations, even if they've got nothing to do with the point I'm trying to make. But hey, doesn't that just make me a little bit like Aziraphale's storytelling, in a way?

I'll let you be the judge of that.

See you in Part 3! And in case you haven't snuck a peak yet: here's Part 1 again.

Ta!

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