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sprite-writes · 1 month

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gunmetal blue

chapter 1/?

Dale Cooper/Reader

Summary: Agent Cooper is saddled with a new partner–against his better judgment. She’s a mess–aimlessly stumbling her way through the FBI with a past shrouded in mystery. Grappling with this change, and a puzzling case in a small town, Cooper’s lost. He finds the path forward in the last way he’d expect.

word count: 2,605

A/N: woah new fic! this is sort of my side project while I work on cloudy day, but it'll still have semi-regular updates! super self indulgent because I love twin peaks, even if everyone had moved on LOL. hope u enjoy <3 as with all my writing, special thanks to @lightning-writes

Dale wasn’t the type to be needlessly anxious. He was the farthest thing from an overthinker, he was a pragmatic man, he kept his sensibility about him. So, admittedly, it was out of character the way his leg had started to involuntarily bounce, brow sweat, and chest tighten. Gordan Cole’s office had never felt so small.

He should have known something was wrong with the way Gordan had called him into his office, hands clapping on his shoulders, guiding him into the room like a lost child. Now, with the announcement hanging in the air, he understood.

“I’m sorry, a-a new partner?”

“That’s what I said, Coop! Is your hearing going too?” Gordon’s deafening volume usually has no effect on him, but this time he flinches. Dale shifts, and the leather beneath him squeaks. Gordon doesn’t even look up from his computer, skillfully avoiding Dale’s appalled stare.

“Gordon, with all due respect, I don't need nor want a partner. Has there been something unsatisfactory about my work? Or-”

“Did you say something about a factory? Anyway, It's not up to me. She was sent here straight from the higher-ups. All I did was sign the paperwork.”

Dale sighs, his frustration thickening in his chest. His captain's eyes flick to him.

“I would’ve fought it if I thought it was such a bad idea, Coop. Don’t worry so much, She’s a sweet girl and a—how would you say it? A damn fine agent.”

“Isn’t there anyone else she could be assigned to?” he asks, and it feels like begging. Windom is 3 years behind him now, but that's three years he’s spent adapting to solitude. The idea of someone next to him on the field again unsettles him deeply, drudging up feelings he’s worked hard to forget.

“Agent, I know how you may feel about this. What, with your past and all, but keep an open mind. I think this could be good for you.”

Could be good?

“Sir–”

A knock on the door cuts him off, the frosted glass door swinging open without hesitation. The interruption leaves him with his complaints still sticking to his tongue.

“Gordon! I brought you coffee – you still take it with two sugars, right? Because there’s a cane’s worth in there.”

His vision is crowded by a woman in an oversized blue FBI jacket—besides her abrupt entry, she’s also out of uniform. Her denim blue jeans hug her waist and fray at the knees, with a jarringly casual t-shirt. The unprofessionalism rubs him the wrong way.

Two milky-colored coffee cups get dropped on the desk. Despite the breach of protocol, Gordon seems pleased to see her. There’s an affinity in his eyes, but she's a stranger to Dale.

“Well if it isn’t Miss Blue herself! We were just talking about you.”

“We?”

Her hair flicks over her shoulder, and her eyes widen.

“Oh! Hi! Sorry, I didn’t see you there. I’m Blue.” She sticks out her right hand for him to shake– and it knocks straight into the two coffee cups, sending one tumbling towards Gordan and the other into his lap.

“Shit!”

He bolts up as hot coffee soaks his trousers. He vaguely registers Gordon's laugh as if an Agent didn’t just waltz in, wreck his office, and Dale’s drycleaning.

“Oh hell, I’m so sorry!” she shrills, peeling off her jacket frantically. The cheap polyester of the academy-issued zip-up presses against his wool-blend pants, the woman’s feeble attempt to clean the mess.

Dale’s anger alights, but he breathes deeply to tamp it down. Patience is a virtue, he tells himself.

She continues to dab at his pants, he pushes her hands away, taking the stained jacket from her, and tossing it on the chair behind him.

“It's fine, it’s fine,” he tells her tightly, despite the heat of his emotions, and the mild burns. When it rains, it pours, he supposes.

She looks up at him, clearly mortified.

“My bad, Sir,” she says lamely, and her expression scrunches up more.

“A hand, Kid?” Gordon asks and she’s more than happy to take her attention away from Dale. Gordon wipes his desk with a handkerchief, and with her hands free, she begins moving damp papers from his desk.

“Well, I’ll tell ya, Blue, you haven’t changed a bit since they shipped you off,” Gordon says fondly. Blue grimaces in a subtle way that Dale only notices because of the daggers he’s staring into her.

“I don't know about-” she begins. Gordon steamrolls her, likely not hearing a thing she said.

“Well, I suppose this is as good an introduction as any. Dale, meet your new partner, Special Agent Georgia Blue. Blue, meet Dale Cooper.”

He wanted to be surprised, really he did, but with fate’s track record, he didn't know why he would expect any better.

Dale goes home late that evening. With him, a stack of manilla folders all relating to one Georgia Blue. He recognizes a level of invasion here. He justifies it simply; Blue is an invasion of his space, so this grants him a degree of invasion to hers. He tries not to think about the morality of it too much, mostly because he knows if he does, he’ll be returning the files unopened. He lets his curiosity win this battle.

It doesn’t matter anyways; half the documents are redacted, large blocky sharpie lines interrupting every other sentence. He skims over what he deems unimportant– her physical description, age, schooling– when one thing catches his eye. Her bureau status, ambiguously labeled as ‘probationary warning: under review’

The FBI files aren’t all. There are DEA reports, too, all titled Operation Architect. He whispers the words to himself, something familiar in the back of his mind, vague memories and mentions of this Operation Architect. From his understanding, it had been DEA business, just watercooler talk that had made its way down to his office. He reads what he can.

January 10th 1988, SA Georgia Blue establishes contact with target, indefinite undercover placement to begin immediately.

Undercover placement? The rest of the paragraph is blocked out, and he’s left with more questions than answers.

His day feels like a pill he can’t swallow. He had vainly hoped that by understanding who this woman was, it would give him some artificial control of the situation, maybe even make it easier to choke down. He doesn’t understand why the dread in his chest continues to bloom.

He yawns, interrupting his thoughts. He supposes the rest of his investigation can wait for the morning, it wasn’t like the issue was going away anyways.

There are a few blissful moments the next morning when Dale wakes up, where the nightmare of yesterday is just that - a nightmare. The redacted files are forgotten on his desk. He makes his bed and brushes his teeth, and it isn't until he’s halfway through shampooing his hair, while he’s mentally scaling down his to-do list for the day that he remembers his plans are meaningless compared to the derailment that is Agent Blue. That is, his new partner Agent Blue. Just rolling over the word in his mind causes a headache to bud.

“Agents Cooper and Blue, partners, at your service,” he spits bitterly to himself. He gets shampoo in his mouth.

He’s bitter all the way to the station, questions and resentment swarming his mind.

He doesn’t even bother to chirp his usual good mornings to the doorman. Anger fits him like a jacket two sizes too small, he has to squeeze his way into it.

Perhaps the comfort of familiarity would calm him, he thought. A warm cup of coffee and the sanctuary of his desk. That’s what he needed.

“Good morning Dale,” Diane calls as he passes reception. He waves noncommittally.

“Morning Diane, any messages?”

“Not today, but Gordon wants to talk to you—he said to just come by when you have time.”

Dale sighs, and wonders what Gordon could possibly have in store for him this time.

“Is that all?”

“There’s just one other thing—I had to move your desk closer to the window to make room for the new girl – but don’t worry! I put everything back just as it was, and I was real careful too,” she smiles.

His eye twitches.

“Alright, Diane, thanks,” he mutters.

His desk is a foot from the window now, approximately 3 feet from where he had it before. He recalls the day he requested it to be there—having carefully stood in each corner of the precinct to find the exact shade-to-light ratio to situate himself.

It’s fine, he reasons, he’ll just squint.

In the ideal 4-foot spot from the window sits a brand new desk, with his brand new partner. If she hears him approach, she doesn’t show it, eyes glued to her dark computer screen. It doesn’t bother him, not one bit. He had spent the last three years' worth of mornings enjoying his coffee in silence, and, new partner or not, he would like that to remain the same. Who cares if she ruined his wool pants–doesn’t mean she has to say good morning to him too.

He sits down, much too close to the sun for his liking, and dives headfirst into paperwork. Still, he spares glances at her, in intervals, and mostly just wonders, why? Dale is a good agent, he knows this. His work and reputation precede him; a lone wolf, he thinks of himself. Then, out of nowhere, without warning, he’s saddled with a partner? An agent he’s never even heard of, who is apparently dipping half into DEA work. An agent who’s on probationary warning.

Perhaps they want him to babysit, he concludes. A rookie agent with some kind of classified disciplinary infraction, and they want him to turn her around. The thought reheats his anger. He’s a federal agent, not an academy trainer, and he has half a mind to let Gordon know that fact.

Five minutes into tense silence and deep thought, a hand smacks down on his desk. He startles but recovers smoothly.

“For yesterday,” Blue says tersely. His eyes follow her stony expression to her manicured hand. She moves and reveals a crumbled $50 bill she’d slapped on his desk.

“Agent?” he asks, confused and exasperated.

“For the pants, alright? Please, just take it.”

He stares at the bill quizzically.

“Ma’am, while I can appreciate the gesture, I assure you that it’s not necessary—“

She holds her hand up to stop him.

“I don’t care. I’m not taking the money back.”

She returns to her desk, intentionally angling away from him, staring intently at the computer screen that he can now see isn’t even turned on.

“...The power button’s on the back of the monitor.”

“...right.”

The computer screen comes to life, and she doesn't spare him a glance.

Partners, indeed.

When he finally has a moment to see Gordon, he’s gone over his speech 5 times in his head. Gordon, you know I respect you and your decision-making, but I am not a babysitter or some sort of camp counselor. I am formally requesting the reassignment of Agent Blue.

He says it again and again in his head, all the way to the door. He knocks loudly, in a way he knows Gordon will hear, and he gets back a muffled, “Come in!”

He does. When Gordon catches his eye, his expression is uncharacteristically unreadable.

“Close the door behind you, Coop,” he tells him. Dale shuts the door and takes his usual seat across from his boss.

“I’m glad you had the time to talk, I’m sure you have more than a few questions after yesterday,” he says levelly. Dale notes Gordon talking quieter than normal, it gives him an odd feeling like he’s in trouble.

“I do, Sir. I would like to firstly say that while I respect–”

“Now hang on there, Coop. First things first, I’m going to need you to return those files on Blue.”

Dale freezes, and his puffed-out chest deflates. It takes him a moment to form a sentence again.

“...May I ask why, Sir?”

Gordon sighs and fiddles with the wires of his hearing aid.

“You haven’t done anything wrong. This is all just a bit more complicated than I can tell you right now. I’m afraid I’m sort of left in the dark here, too. I’ll tell you what I can, but it’s not all that much. Anything else you learn is at the discretion of the bureau - and Blue. And I don't think either of em’ wants you poking around.”

The situation feels much bigger than him all of a sudden, even though it felt like something he could hold in the palm of his hand just a moment ago.

“Alright,” is all he can think to say.

“I knew Blue when she was in the academy, and let me tell you, she is bright. A little prodigy in her class, a bit like you, I’d presume. Anyway, I met her through her field training, she was a NAT here for a little while. Wasn’t too interested in homicide investigation, though. No, she’d taken a real liking to narcotics. Nasty business, I always thought, but to each their own,”

As he talks, he leans in close to Dale. Gordon’s inside voice is still quite loud, but Dale can tell he’s straining to lower it.

“She graduated and went straight to doing investigative work with the DEA. If I know you, and I do, I know you’ve picked through her file already. Do you know what Operation Architect is?”

“I saw the name, but I don't know much about it, no.”

“Neither do I, that’s DEA business, but I know she was on it, undercover for over a year. And I know it didn't go great. She was relocated here after the ordeal.”

Dale was hoping for this conversation to be more enlightening. He still feels trapped in the dark.

“I meant it when I said none of this was up to me. My boss wanted Blue assigned to you. I’d wager it's because of your good work, you’ve got a handsome reputation, but I couldn’t tell you for sure. Regardless, she's sticking around for a while, so make the best of it. She’s not quite how I remember her, but as long as she hasn't done a full 180 in a few years, I think you two could get along pretty well.”

Silence weighs down the room. Dale lets the new knowledge permeate his skin.

“Alright,” he says because there really isn’t anything else to say.

“Alright,” Gordon parrots.

Dale sits like he’s waiting for something else to happen. The crushing finality of it sits on his chest. All the determination he came in there with is withered away to nothing, just ashes of a once burning fire.

There’s no shirking this now, he has a partner. Cooper & Blue, FBI.

“I know this isn’t easy for you, and I wish there was more I could do. But to be completely candid with you, I don’t think it’ll be nearly as bad as you’re anticipating.”

Dale nods absently, drained of anything else to say. Gordon understands.

“You’re dismissed, Coop.”

He gets up, politely pushing in the chair.

Before his hand can touch the knob, Gordon grabs his attention again.

“Well, one more thing, actually.” Dale tenses, and the dread in his chest that had gone numb begins to flare up again.

“If I were you, I’d show her a bit of kindness. This line of work is messy, and I can't imagine what the hell happened for her to get sent here.”

Dale can’t imagine either.

#twin peaks #dale cooper x reader #dale cooper #twin peaks: the return #gordon cole #harry truman #laura palmer #yay chapter one!

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she-is-juniper · 2 years

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Put It Into Practice — Steve Harrington x Reader (chapter three)

Pairing: Scoops Ahoy era Steve Harrington x f!Reader (she/her/hers pronouns, AFAB)

Rating (by chapter): Explicit (***18+ only. Minors DNI or you will be blocked.)

Summary: “King Steve” Harrington had been the subject of swooning for every girl in their right mind back in high school. But when his sexual dexterity comes into question the summer after graduation, Steve is not about to let his reputation become marred quite so easily. Luckily, Steve is offered the help of his new friend—to give him advice, a few pointers, and maybe a bit of healthy practice…

Word Count (by chapter): 8K

Content: more angst, banter, more Robin in this chapter, making out, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, mutual masturbation, cursing

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is not intended to be taken as truth or fact. I do not claim to own Stranger Things or any other affiliated names or fictional events. Other details, such as names, locations, and events, are also fictionalized.

A/N: Ahhh! The long awaited 3rd chapter of what's becoming one of my absolute favorite series I've ever written! This chapter proved especially difficult for me to write, given the high volume of a n g s t . But I know how much you guys will love it...and it'll pay off ♡ I'm absolutely over the moon at how well-received this series has been!! Thank you immensely to each and everyone of you! It's also worth noting that this fic is an AU of Stranger Things Season 3 in which there's no overarching end-of-the-world/Shadow Monster from the Upside Down/evil Russians plotline. It's just a bunch of normal teens with normal lives set in Summer 1985 in Hawkins, Indiana. Fun fact: I ended up hiding a bunch of song title references in this fic! See how many song titles you can find 😂 And as always, PLEASE comment if you enjoyed this, for the love of god—thank u in advance ♥ Love, Juni

chapter one \\ chapter two

NEXT CHAPTER

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Steve is avoiding you.

It’s obvious. Aside from the fact that he hasn’t said anything to you in a week, he was also conveniently MIA every time you passed by Scoops Ahoy on your way to and from work.

Granted, you haven’t made any effort to see him in the past week, either. Clearly you’re both avoiding each other.

Whatever, you keep telling yourself. Not like I care. In truth, you do care—a lot. It still stings that Steve would rather pretend like you don’t exist than face you after what had happened in your basement a week ago.

And, well…more had happened since then.

The morning after he had come to your basement and left so abruptly, you had been determined to not let anything change. You had gone to work as usual. You had passed by Scoops Ahoy, as usual. You had said hi to Robin and Steve, as usual.

But what was not as usual was the strange, ravenous way Steve had glared at you as you came up to the counter.

“Hi, Steve,” you’d said, urging him to just act fucking normal.

But he’d just gulped and choked out a strained, “Hi.”

And that was that. You’d thought it was odd—and a part of you had been deeply nervous that he was panicking about (or regretting) what he’d done the night before—but you were already running late to work.

Later that day, your cookie store had received a delivery through the back door. You were coming in and out the dingy, dimly lit back hallways of the mall, dragging in boxes by yourself, when you’d spotted Steve down the hallway, bringing in a delivery to the ice cream shop too. And he’d met your gaze…

“Steve?” you called out, your voice echoing down the hallway.

Steve was just staring at you, looking like one of the twins in the hallway from the Shining. You wanted to laugh and make a joke about it, until he placed one hand on his hip and sighed deeply. His mouth twisted into a sly smile, and he shook his head while reciting your name, his voice inexplicably dejected: “Fuck, Y/N.”

The next thing you knew, he was striding down the hallway to meet your mouth with his.

The kiss was hungry, desperate, full of unspoken words that you couldn’t possibly speak if you tried. He was a dark storm of undisclosed desires, with his body guiding yours to the wall, where he pressed against you, pinning you there. You’d never experienced Steve Harrington like this before.

His hands raked urgently across your body, finally ending up at your face, your neck, the back of your head, tangling in your hair. The smell of him, almost familiar by now, brought back vivid memories of last night that made your head spin. There was no room for coherent thought in your brain as he ravished your mouth with his.

“Steve,” you gasped in between his kisses.

He held your face and kissed you deeply, his tongue meeting yours with a dizzying frenzy, before he broke away at last to speak your name again. “Y/N.”

His hands went from rough to soft, suddenly caressing you now, as if he was trying to memorize the feel of your skin on his fingertips. He smiled at you.

Then, there was a noise from down the long hallway. And just as quickly as the moment began…it was over.

Steve tore away from you, sucking in an inhale. He gave you one final, curt glance, a feeble apology in his eyes, before he slinked off back to the ice cream parlor and left you standing there in the back hallway, trying and failing to catch your breath and collect your thoughts under the dim fluorescents…

That was a week ago. And Steve hasn’t spoken to you once since.

Who the fuck does that?? you find yourself thinking, absolutely baffled at what had happened. He had come to your house and given you head, he had left abruptly after awkwardly rejecting you for offering to give him head, he had beseiged and all but jumped you in the back hallway the next day…and now he was avoiding you. Talk about mixed signals.

After about the fifth or sixth day of avoiding each other, you’d started to panic. And now, seven days later, you were going mental. You still feel, well, humiliated, at the thought that he’d seen you naked and now was essentially a ghost to you. And now, you feel angry, too, in the mix of emotions. Angry at him for being an immature baby by avoiding you. Angry at yourself for letting it all happen in the first place.

It was all because of your stupid idea to proposition him into getting practice going down on a girl. Stupid, stupid, stupid of you for even suggesting it to him in the first place. Because now, because of it, you may have permanently fucked up any chances of staying friends.

But really, though, what had you expected? Did you really think you’d be able to just go back to normal after what he’d seen, after what he’d done?

And now, especially after that sporadic hallway kiss…you can’t get him out of your head. You can’t shake the image of Steve’s warm eyes peering up from beneath you, can’t forget the feeling of his lips and tongue, can’t stop imagining his hands soaking up your body. You can’t stop yourself from hearing his voice replaying in your head over and over again. The intruding memories have been distracting you so badly this week that you’ve been making stupid mistakes at your job.

Like right now.

“I ordered a dozen sugar cookies, not peanut butter,” the woman in line gripes at you as she checks the bag of cookies you just handed to her.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, let me fix that.” You take back the bag and prepare another one with the correct order while the woman taps her heel impatiently. It’s the day before the Fourth of July, and it seems like the entirety of Hawkins is at Starcourt, half of them with bad attitudes. The line at The Great Cookie hasn’t let up for three hours now. There’s no way your manager’s going to let you take a break today.

A familiar blue-and-red sailor uniform flashes before your eyes. Your stomach lurches. But you realize it’s just Robin standing in line. She peers at you curiously while she waits her turn to approach the counter.

“Hi, Robin,” you greet her when she finally reaches the front of the line. “Sorry, I can’t do any free cookies this week—”

“Why are you and Steve avoiding each other?” she asks you point blank with a curious smile.

“I—uh—why would you think that?” you stammer.

“Well, I know he’s avoiding you,” Robin says, leaning across the counter. “He’s been darting into the kitchen anytime anyone who even remotely looks like you passes by the shop. And I know you’ve been avoiding him, because you haven’t come by even once this week during your breaks—to which I take great personal offense, by the way—but what I cannot figure out for the life of me is why you two are avoiding each other.”

Robin speaks so quickly, in her typical Robin way, that it takes your brain a few seconds to catch up with what she’s saying. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say simply.

Robin scoffs. “You’re a terrible liar, Y/N, even worse than me.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been by to see you this week,” you say to deflect from her other musings. “It’s just been so busy.” Frankly, you miss Robin a lot. She’s become a close friend this summer, too, just as much as Steve has. Or had been.

“Yeah, yeah,” Robin says and waves her arm dismissively. “But you have to tell me what happened. And don’t say it was nothing, Y/N,” she adds when you open your mouth to protest, “because I know Steve. I’ve had to spend every waking hour of every day with him, and he’s become even more annoyingly mopey in the past week than ever before. And you’ve gone AWOL. So something had to have happened.”

“Why don’t you just ask Steve?” you say gently. The curiosity of his inner thoughts is absolutely killing you.

“I tried, but he won’t talk to me. It’s been so annoying. You should see him. He’s been acting like a kicked puppy.”

For as bad as you feel to hear that, the other part of you feels vindicated. “Good,” you grumble under your breath.

“Oh god,” Robin says, her tone suddenly serious. “What if he’s upset about something I said? I’ve probably been making fun of him too much for the whole Lisa R. thing. Maybe I should apologize—”

“Robin, no,” you interrupt her. “It’s—it’s not about you.”

She narrows her eyes. “So something did happen between you two.”

“It’s not a big deal,” you lie. “I’m sure it’ll blow over soon.”

“That dingus probably said something dumb, didn’t he.”

“No…” You scratch your head. “We just had a bit of a…disagreement.”

“Well, whatever it is, can you two hurry up and get over it? He’s being insufferable. Plus, it’s weird not having you around during your shift breaks.”

Robin is working hard to make her voice sound casual, but you can tell by the look on her face that it’s more than just curiosity that brought her here to talk to you. She’s concerned about him, you realize. She’s concerned about both of her friends.

“I’m sure it’ll blow over in a few days,” you say reassuringly, even though you aren’t sure yourself.

“Okay, can we change ‘a few days’ to, like, ‘a day’?” she asks and pulls out a folded-up flyer with a drawing of an American flag. The flyer read, Mayor Kline Presents the Roane County Fun Fair. “The Fourth of July Fair is tomorrow. I think it’d be fun if we all three went together.”

You smile slightly. “That sounds like fun,” you say. Realistically, though, you’re not sure if Steve will stop this whole avoiding you thing within the next day. But that’s a him problem. You? You could handle seeing him. You could handle going back to being friends. If there was someone between the two of you who was going to make this weird and awkward, you’re bound and determined to not let it be you.

“Great,” Robin beams. “And then maybe you can tell me what your fight was about.”

“Uh, maybe,” you say, glancing between Robin and the growing line of impatient customers behind her. “I have to go back to work now.”

“Heard,” she says. “I’ll get out of your hair.” But there’s a little glimmer in her eyes.

“What?” you ask.

“One for the road?” she asks innocently, eyeing the cookies in the display window.

You roll your eyes. “My boss is going to kill me if he finds out how many free cookies I’ve been giving away.” But you go ahead and open the window to retrieve one M&M cookie, Robin’s favorite. She grins and claps her hands.

You also grab a chocolate chip and put both cookies in a bag, giving it to her.

“Oh, I get two this time?” she asks.

You shake your head. “The other’s for Steve.” Chocolate chip has always been his favorite. A silent look passes between you and Robin; she nods her head, acknowledging that she’ll make sure he receives it.

Part of you deep down knows that you’ve been avoiding Steve as much as he’s been avoiding you. Part of you knows he might be feeling the same embarrassment you’re feeling. And you’re willing to consider that maybe Steve wants things to go back to normal just as much as you do. You can only hope your chocolate chip cookie of an olive branch is enough for him to realize it, too.

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For as busy as the mall had been the day before the 4th, the Roane County Fair must have attracted the biggest number of Hawkins residents you’d ever seen in one place.

It’s all very bustling and exciting in a way that makes you feel like a kid again. Colorful lights sparkles from every direction, drawing your eyes to countless games and attractions. The sounds of laughter and the smell of fried treats fills the air. You smile to yourself, enjoying the moment as you make your way through the crowds.

Robin’s playing with the marching band at Mayor Kline’s inaugural speech, but she promised to meet you afterward. Steve…well, Steve’s nowhere to be found. Big surprise. You still haven’t spoken to him since that night, and hadn’t seen him since the hallway encounter, but Robin had coordinated with the both of you separately to meet up with her after her marching band commitments were finished.

Sure enough, you follow the sounds of a marching band playing patriotic music. There’s a stage at the back of the fair, decked out with patriotic bunting flags and lights. Mayor Kline is giving some kind of long-winded speech while a small group of Hawkins High Marching Band members stands at parade rest behind him.

You catch Robin’s eyes and smile at her. She rolls her eyes, trumpet in hand, and mouths to you, “Get me out of here.”

You look around the stage and shrug at her. “Come on,” you mouth back, encouraging her to shirk her duties.

Robin doesn’t need much more convincing than that. While Mayor Kline rambles off about how he “spared no expense” with the Fun Fair, Robin slinks off the stage surreptitiously. Another band member thumps her on the shoulder, looking aggrieved that she’s leaving, but Robin just ignores him.

“Ugh, that was so boring,” she groans when she finally meets you where you’re standing at the side of the crowd.

“You know you can quit band, right?” you tell her.

“Yeah, but all my friends are in it.” She tears off her shako and gauntlets. “Let’s get out of here before the others notice I’m gone.”

You follow her, laughing as she struggles with the zipper on her uniform. She leads you to one of the band buses in the parking lot where she throws her uniform and instrument. Once she’s done, the two of you make it back to the fair, laughing with each other about how sleazy Mayor Kline is.

“I heard he only organized this whole fair to make himself look good after the protests last week,” you remark.

“Yeah, my parents hate him. He’s slimy as hell.” Robin smiles and spins around. “But I love a good time.” She looks around, then, and frowns. “Where’s Steve?”

You shrug. “Dunno. Haven’t seen him.”

“You guys still haven’t made up?”

Little did she know it wasn’t going to be that easy. “It’s whatever.”

“He’s probably running late because he’s doing his stupid hair.” Robin stares at a food stall that’s caught her eye. “Wanna get some cotton candy?”

“Duh.”

You and Robin exchange tickets for two massive sticks of cotton candy, enjoying it and giggling about past drama from school while the fireworks start to go off. Even though you and Robin had lost touch since your middle school band class days, it was surprisingly easy to go back to being friends years later. You’ve never met someone with such a propensity for talking, whether it was to rant about a bad customer or to ramble during a movie, but you find it endearing and relatable.

When Steve still doesn’t show up after a few minutes, you and Robin decide to ditch waiting around for him to go on some rides. The line for the Big Top swing ride is relatively short, so you and Robin race for the turnstiles, laughing and jesting with each other. The ride is more than a little rickety, which only serves to amplify your laughter with an added layer of nervousness. But there’s nothing better than the feeling of the cool evening air as it whips through your hair.

You go on a few more rides together—the Gravitron, the Matterhorn, and then the Fun Slide after Robin starts feeling too nauseous from the more intense rides. And then you decide to just walk aimlessly around the fair eating corn dogs, but it’s kind of nice.

A few weeks ago, your friendship became solidified when Robin called you one evening asking for advice. She’d been distressed that she almost revealed a secret to her friends from school; a secret she wasn’t yet ready to tell the world. You’d helped calm her down and reassure her that everything was going to be okay. Since that day, she trusted you like an older sister, and you vowed to keep her secret safe with you.

You trust Robin, too. You know she genuinely cares about you and Steve.

“I think Steve and I may have overstepped a boundary with each other,” you say hesitantly after a lull in the conversation.

“Overstepped a boundary?” she repeats. Then her eyes go wide. “Oh god. Do I wanna know? Did you guys—”

“No,” you say too quickly. “Well, yes. But not really, not all the way, not like—we’re just friends,” you blather.

Robin raises an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say, but what I do know is that there’s no way in hell that Steve thinks of you as just a friend.”

You gape. “What? What do you mean?”

“Y/N.” She lowers her voice. “I may not be into boys, but I’m not blind. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

You’re at a loss for words. “I… I don’t know, Robin…”

What had Robin seen that you’d missed? You’d never even fully felt seen by Steve until he had agreed to go along with your proposition last week. Before that, though…he’d given little to no indication that he saw you in any other way than as just a friend. Or were you just blinded by your own bias?

You think about the way he’d rejected your advances last week, the way he’d contradicted himself. First it was, I don’t want that with you, and then it was, well I do want that, but I can’t go back to being friends if we did that…? You’d been overanalyzing his words for far too long. You don’t know what to think.

You’ve considered that he just isn’t as into you as you’re into him—entirely possible, since you won’t even admit to yourself how much you like him. But why would he have agreed to get you off…for nothing in return for himself?

Or maybe it was just about getting practice. Maybe all he really did want in return was the experience…a notch in his belt…a verbal reassurance that he didn’t totally suck in bed.

And then the whole hallway encounter just confused you even further. That wasn’t something that just friends did. So many elements to your interactions—the way he looked at you that night, the way he treated you, the way he’d kissed you—all indicated that it was more than just an experience opportunity for him.

And yet, you couldn’t help but wonder… If some other girl instead of you had come up to him with the same proposition, would he have accepted?

Did Steve just really like pussy, or did he like your pussy?

God. What a crude thought.

“He asked me if you were seeing anyone, you know,” Robin says, breaking you away from your racing thoughts.

“What?!”

“Yeah. A couple weeks ago. It was the day that you nailed him on the forehead with ice cream and he kicked you out.”

It’s true; you had been trying to annoy him by catapulting spoonfuls of pistachio ice cream from across the shop. After you’d successfully struck his forehead, he’d griped like a grouchy old man and shooed you out. You and Robin laughed about it for days after the fact.

“He asked if I was seeing anyone?” you repeat.

Robin nods. “I told him you weren’t. But then I told him he had a pretty weird fetish if he found it attractive when women assaulted him with ice cream.”

You had no idea about any of this. You bury your face in your hands and sigh.

“What?” Robin asks.

“I just don’t know what to think anymore.”

“What’s there to think? It doesn’t seem that complicated to me. I mean…do you like Steve?”

“Well, of course.”

“Yeah, but do you like like Steve?”

You don’t know what to say. “He’s become one of my best friends,” you answer instead.

“So what?”

“So… I don’t know. What if you’re wrong?”

Robin finishes the last bite of her corn dog and chucks the stick into a trash can. “He told me something else,” she says.

“What?”

“He told me a while ago that he hasn’t been with anyone since Nancy.”

You gape. Nancy Wheeler? His long-term girlfriend…the Princess of Hawkins High…the Nancy Wheeler who left Steve for Jonathan Byers last October?

“That can’t be right,” you insist. “What about Lisa R.?”

Robin shrugs. “I’m guessing she would have been the next. But we both know how that turned out.” Robin gives you a level look. “And…if you and him…”

“We’re just friends,” you say again, the statement automatic and ingrained.

“I’m just saying, if he did like you, and if you guys did hook up…it might be the first time since Nancy the Priss.” Robin shakes her head and smiles. “Steve tries to pretend like he’s over her, but I don’t think he is. So he tries to act like he’s this big womanizer, but I don’t think he’s been that way for a long time. And I actually do think he really, really likes you.”

You walk silently beside Robin, your mind galloping like a racehorse. You have absolutely no idea what to say, what to think.

A few long minutes pass, and you hadn’t even realized that Robin hasn’t spoken in awhile until you turn to look at her. Which is a long time by Robin’s standards to not say anything, but she’s focused on something else. It’s a group of band kids standing by a drink stand, still in their uniforms, laughing with each other.

“Are we still trying to avoid your band friends?” you ask.

Robin shakes her head. “No…”

“You wanna go join them?”

Robin’s eyes go wide like you had just asked her to start singing on a stage. “No way.”

“Why not?”

“Because…because that’s…that’s…”

You squint your eyes to make out their faces. “Oh. Oh my god. That’s her, isn’t it?”

Vickie, the clarinet player. The one Robin was starting to develop a crush on. And her friends—those are the friends Robin thinks she almost accidentally outed herself to.

“Don’t worry, they probably already completely forgot about what happened,” you reassure her.

Robin shakes her head. “There’s no way they forgot about how I agreed when Vickie made that joke about how our last marching formation on the field last season looked like a pair of boobs from the stands.”

“You didn’t agree, you just nodded, remember? And it was a funny joke. Anyone would have laughed.” You clasp her on the shoulder. “You’re in the clear, dude. No one’s suspecting anything.”

“Yeah, but…what if they are?”

“They’re not. You’re being paranoid.”

Robin breathes out a big sigh. “Okay…Okay.”

“Besides…if Vickie the Clarinet Player’s making jokes about boobs on the marching field, then maybe she’s also—”

“Ah! Enough!” Robin cuts you off, waving a hand frantically. You giggle.

“Okay, sorry, sorry. But still…you should go talk to them,” you encourage.

“But she’s with them.”

“Who?”

“Vickie the Clarinet Player!!”

“Exactly. Don’t you want to get to know her, too?”

Robin muses and says quietly, “Yeah…”

You shove her shoulder. “Then you should go!”

“You won’t come?”

“I’ll catch up with you guys later.” You could use a moment to collect your thoughts. “And…maybe I’ll go try to find Steve. He’s got to be around here somewhere.”

Robin nods and bids you farewell, hesitantly walking over to her friends by the drink stand. You walk around a bit until you find an empty bench to sit and think.

The news about Nancy Wheeler being the last girl Steve has been with... Is that why he hadn’t wanted to do anything more with you on that night last week? Because he wasn’t over Nancy yet?

Was it because he’d rather it be Nancy than you?

Albeit painful, that was easier for you to wrap your head around than the notion that Steve Harrington might actually, genuinely like like you. Besides, what if Robin was wrong? What if he didn’t actually like like you?

It wouldn’t be the first time for you that a boy broke your heart. You handled it just fine the other times. Frankly, even if Steve broke your heart, you’d be okay. You’d get over it.

But what you won’t get over is losing him as a friend.

You weigh your options. You could keep ignoring him until he decides to talk to you again—not ideal, because you already sense growing animosity between the two of you. And because you really miss him. The other option is to make the first move to try to go back to being friends and hope he follows your lead. And just ignore everything that happened in the basement, ignore the hallway encounter, ignore your feelings.

But there’s another option…

You could confront him. You could ask him why he’s been avoiding you. You could go off of what Robin said and just ask him outright if he likes you or not. Get it out of the way. Rip off the band-aid.

Just the thought of doing that makes you nervous. You really hate confrontation…and you’re willing to bet Steve does too. But what if it gave him an opportunity to admit it…to admit that he likes you too? It could be a good thing. It could be a really good thing.

And if he says no…then it’s just friends.

At almost the exact time you decide that’s what you’re going to do, you spot him from across the fairgrounds.

He’s leaning against the steel support structures at the side of the Fun House, glancing around like he’s looking for someone. For a boy wearing the most basic, Steve-like outfit—gray jacket, navy t-shirt, jeans, and his trusty white Nike’s— he looks achingly good. And you’re willing to bet he’d spent way longer than necessary to style his hair so it sat just perfectly at the top of his head, just as Robin had suspected.

He’s here late, as per usual, but he’s probably been looking for you and Robin for a while now. You haven't laid eyes on him in literally a week, and the sight of him set off a series of neurons in your brain. Images of the last time you’d seen him in your basement flash in your mind, but you cast those images away, determined to keep your head straight for the conversation you’re about to have with him.

You get up from the bench and start heading over to him, rehearsing in your brain what to say and how to say it. Steve, I know you’re avoiding me, and I want to know if it’s because you have a crush on me. I like you, and I think you like me, too, but if not, that’s cool, we can just be friends—

Someone else is walking up to him, too.

She gets there before you do. She steps in front of where Steve is leaning against the steel beams. At first, you can’t make out her features, but you can see Steve’s with crystal clarity…the way his eyebrows shoot up in surprise, the way his posture straightens.

The goofy smile. The hand running through his hair.

And then she smiles at him, standing way too close for a stranger as they talk…her black ringlets of hair, her perfectly painted red lips. And suddenly, you know exactly who she is.

Lisa R. steps closer to Steve. She places a dainty hand on his chest and leans in. Steve’s cheeks redden as she whispers something in his ear. He smiles and says something back to her that makes her purse her lips. She reaches up and touches his cheek with her fingers—

You’ve seen enough. But just before you look away…Steve’s eyes meet yours.

You whirl around on your heel and start marching in the opposite direction. You don’t have any particular destination in mind—just as far away from Steve and Lisa R. as possible.

While your legs work in overtime to take you far away, your mind sears with a million different thoughts. The exuberance of the carnival music and bright lights almost feel nauseating now, almost claustrophobic. You can’t believe you were about to say something so stupid to him. You can’t believe how dumb you were to have thought that Steve was here to see you and Robin.

You can’t believe how foolish you were to think that maybe Steve has a crush on you when there’s girls like Lisa R. and Nancy Wheeler.

Maybe Lisa R. showing up was serendipity. Because otherwise, you had been about to make the biggest fool of yourself in front of Steve.

“Y/N!”

His voice carries faintly over the cacophony of carnival games and cheering children. He’s following you. You pretend not to hear him, allowing yourself to become engulfed by a large crowd standing around the fair’s exit. The fair was about to close down for the night, you realize, and everyone is headed home. But it wouldn’t be long before the crowd dispersed to go to their separate cars and Steve would spot you.

You duck behind a hot dog stand. It’s so dumb. The way you’re feeling right now, it’s so stupid. You have no right to feel upset about seeing Steve with Lisa R. after you’d been actively encouraging him all summer to ask her out.

“Y/N!”

Steve’s standing in the crowd, whipping his head around, still looking for you. You take off again in the opposite direction, swimming up the river of people and back toward the attractions. But he spots you, and you know he’s right on your tail.

“Y/N, wait, please just wait,” he calls out. You want to beeline for cover—behind the ferris wheel, in one of the portable toilets, in the woods, whatever—but he grabs your arm and you have no choice but to turn around and face him. His eyes are wide and fixed on yours.

“What?” you ask, deadpan.

“I didn’t know she’d be here,” he says in a rush. You just stare at him and say nothing. “I didn’t know Lisa R. would be here.”

“Well, I bet you’re happy she was.” You try to yank your arm back but he holds it tightly. There was such intense tension in his touch and in the way his eyes held you captive.

“I saw you,” he explained. “Watching us.”

You frown and glance away. “Yeah. Sorry to ruin your special moment.”

“There wasn’t any moment! I—Y/N,” he calls again as you wrench your arm free and storm off.

“You don’t have to lie about it, Steve,” you say as coldly as possible.

“I’m not lying! Can we please just talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“There is. Please.”

You slow down a bit, finally stopping in your tracks. You sigh deeply; you know you’re being childish by running away. So you turn to face him again. When he doesn’t say anything—just stares at you with a dumbfounded expression on his stupid, beautiful face—you spit out, “We’re talking.”

“Will you tell me why you’re upset?”

“I’m not upset.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m not. Can I go now?”

He blinks. “I didn’t know Lisa R. was going to come up to me like that,” he says again.

“You already said that.”

“Yeah, but—but I wish she hadn’t,” he explains. “I’d be happy to never see her again, Y/N.”

You give a humorous laugh. “You and I both know that’s a lie,” you retort. “You’ve been trying to get with Lisa R. all summer, so don’t pretend like you weren’t happy to see her.”

“I was trying to get with her, but that was until—” Steve stops himself and snaps his mouth shut. You glare at him, unblinking, waiting for him to finish his thought. But he doesn’t. So you sculpt a mask of aloofness on your features.

“It’s not that deep, Steve. You’re allowed to be with Lisa R. Just don’t sue me for not wanting to be there to watch it happen.”

“I don’t want to be with Lisa R. Not anymore.”

You raise your eyebrows, shrug, and huff a laugh, still playing the part of indifference. “Alright,” you say coolly. “Good for you. Now you can get with literally any other girl you want. Is that it, or can I please go?”

“Stop it, Y/N.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Stop trying to pretend like you’re not upset!” he yells. You flinch a bit; you weren’t expecting him to raise his voice.

“Don’t yell at me,” you spit. “You don’t get to avoid me for a week and then yell at me for no reason.”

“You were avoiding me,” he accuses, his voice still the same volume. “You didn’t come once during your shift breaks this week!”

“Yeah, well, Robin said you hid in the kitchen anytime someone who looked like me came in,” you say indignantly, “So excuse me for not wanting to come by.”

“Screw Robin,” Steve snapped. “You didn’t want to see me.”

“I did want to see you!” you shout back. “Of course I wanted to fucking see you! Will you stop bothering me?”

“Why didn’t you come, then?”

“Because I’m embarrassed, okay?!” You immediately look away from him after admitting it, but you can feel his eyes boring into you.

“You’re embarrassed?” Steve asks gently, all of the sudden. “Why?”

“Because—” You glared at him, your skin hot. Because he's seen me naked? “Because I should have never asked you what I did in the first place.”

“Why not?” Steve presses.

Because you should have known you and Steve wouldn’t be able to go back to being friends after that. Because you should have known that feelings would get in the way. Because you really, really fucking liked him.

But you don’t say any of that.

“Because now you’ve made it all weird,” you accuse him. “You kissed me in the hallway, and you started avoiding me, and you’re yelling at me. So I know you’re embarrassed, too. You just won’t admit it.”

“I am not embarrassed about what happened,” Steve declares.

“Then why were you avoiding me?” you say, enunciating your words dangerously slow.

Steve would be foolish to try to blame you for the same again, and he knows it. He doesn’t say anything. The tension grows and grows until you’re almost choking on it.

At last, he says, just as articulate as you, “Why did you run away when you saw me with Lisa R.?”

“Because she was a bitch to you, and you’re clearly too dumb to turn her down,” you spit.

“If you must know,” he responds with venom in his voice, ”I rejected her. Right as you walked away.”

You want to say, he’s pretty good at rejecting people this week, it seems. But you bite your tongue.

“Why?” you demand.

“Because I don’t want to be with Lisa R,” he repeats. “Why did you run away?”

“Why were you avoiding me after you kissed me?”

It’s a stand-off. Neither of you are willing to put your pistols down. Seconds pass, and all you can do is just stand there in the middle of the fairgrounds and stare at each other. Waiting for the other to give in. But you’re both too stubborn.

In the end, it’s Steve to give in first. But not to answer your question. Instead, he presents an entirely new one.

“You said you should have never asked me to practice with you,” he says, his voice thick. “But why did you ask me?”

You want to keep the stand-off going. You want to retort something snarky back at him again. You want so badly not to give in. But you can’t do it anymore.

He’s not dumb. And you’re done playing guessing games with him. He has to have figured it out by now.

“Why do you think, Steve?” you say despondently, your voice barely audible, even though there’s no one left in the fairgrounds anymore. “Why do you think I ran away when I saw you with Lisa R.?” You find yourself leaning closer, even though every instinct is telling you to turn away. “Why do you think I’ve been avoiding you as much as you’ve been avoiding me?”

It’s all he needs to hear. As if the bubble of building pressure finally bursts with your words, Steve grabs you by your waist and kisses you.

It’s rough. It’s messy. And it takes your breath away.

Steve kisses you exactly like he had in the back hallway a week ago—as if his entire life depends on it. With his hands on your back, his arms completely enveloping you, he holds your body against his so tightly that you couldn’t get away if you tried. But you don’t want to get away, not anymore. All you want is him.

You don’t know where it came from, but suddenly there’s a short metal staircase leading up the back of one of the attractions. Steve’s pulling your body along with his up the stairs, where he then whirls you around and pins you firmly against the wooden door. His mouth never once leaves yours.

A noise from behind Steve causes him to whip his head around. It’s a gaggle of police officers, wielding flashlights and sauntering around the now-empty fairgrounds. They’re looking for any remaining stragglers who haven’t left yet. Steve curses and looks around, locking his eyes on the handle of the door he has you pressed up against. You step away as he jiggles the handle anxiously; it’s stuck a bit, but it eventually gives way and the door opens. Steve ushers you inside and closes the door before the cops catch the two of you.

You look around. It’s the Hall of Mirrors. The neon lights are still on, casting endless colorful arrays off of the mirrors that surround you. But as far as you can tell, there’s not a single soul in the attraction besides you and Steve.

He’s on you again, kissing you fervently, as if he can’t help himself. There’s a million things you want to say, a million things you want him to say…but none as powerful as his kiss. He pushes you again, guiding you away from the emergency exit door and through the hall. You shriek as he pushes you against what looks like it’s a mirror, but it’s actually a pathway. Steve smiles against your lips; the feeling makes you want to rejoice.

“Steve,” you breathe out. Same as you had that day in the hallway. He responds by wrapping his fingers in your hair at the base of your neck and pulling down, gentle but firm. You gasp, and his lips find your neck, and whatever thought you’d been wanting to say scatters like leaves in the wind.

Your body longs for him, and clearly, his body longs for you, too. You can feel how hard he is in his jeans as he presses his body against yours. The feeling—the thought alone—sets you on fire.

“Are you still upset with me?” he murmurs against your neck as he touches the straps of your sundress.

“Yes,” you say.

He makes a noise—disapproval? Determination? You can't tell.

“I can’t avoid you anymore," he says, and he kisses his way back up your neck, your jaw, your chin, your lips. Meanwhile, his hands fall to the hem of your dress, hiking it up as he grabs your ass. A stifled moan emits from your mouth.

And then his fingers trace the lace of your underwear. “I can’t stop thinking about you," he says resolutely.

Is that why he’d stayed away from you? Because every time he saw you, he wanted to do this? You grasp for his shirt, slipping your hands underneath it, feeling the skin on his back.

“You’re a dingus for avoiding me all week.” Your back arches as his fingers brush against your heat through your underwear.

“Hey,” he murmurs, dipping his head to kiss your collarbones. “Only Robin’s allowed to call me that.”

You tangle your fingers in his hair. “Well, Robin’s not here right now.”

“Thank god for that.” He kisses in between your breasts as he holds your mons pubis in his palm. He breathes out hotly and pulls you tighter to him with the arm around your waist. “You’re so fucking hot.”

“Me, or my pussy?”

“Both.”

As he begins to rub you through your underwear, your mouth falls open and a hot flash ripples through your body. Steve watches your eyes, your lips, his forehead pressed against yours, as he feels you move against his fingers, your body itching for more.

Steve pushes his torso into you so you’re pressed firmly against one of the mirrors. He hooks his thumbs in the elastic of your underwear and slides them down. And he trails kisses all the way down your body as he crouches before you.

Oh, god, you think as you realize what he’s doing.

Steve hoists one of your thighs up and on his shoulder, ducks under your dress, he plants a kiss right against your pussy.

Oh my god.

A small voice in the back of your mind reminds you that this is probably not a great idea, that you and Steve probably should have a conversation with each other before you do something like this again. But the voice is easily squashed by the blank nothingness that washes over your brain, replacing all logical thought with your more primitive desires.

And fuck, he’s so eager for you.

His tongue moves against your clit just like you’d taught him last week, just like he knows you like it. You can’t see him from beneath your sundress, but you see a thousand variants of your own reflection in all the mirrors, his figure crouched beneath your dress, his arms wrapped around your thighs as he sucks the life out of you.

How the hell did he learn to maneuver you into a pose like this? You moan his name, letting your head fall back against the mirror. You rake your fingers through his hair and he groans against you at the feeling. As his tongue begins to find a familiar rhythm against your clit, a familiar itching ache blooms across your pelvis and torso. You gasp, grinding against him, hoping to god your knee doesn’t buckle.

You want to come on his tongue, but you want him inside you even more.

“Steve,” you say, urgently now. He pulls away and peers up at you. “I need you inside of me.”

“I…” He frowns, clearly unsure of how to make that happen logistically. Impatient, you tug up at his shoulders, urging him to stand up. He does, and you kiss him sensually while you guide his hands back to your heat again.

“Please,” you whisper, pressing his fingers against your bare skin where you’re dripping with desire from his mouth. He moans as he slips a finger into you, and you echo his moan when that finger curls up into you.

“Fuck,” he sighs. With his other hand, he cups your face and kisses you again, but you’re far too distracted by his finger inside of you to kiss him back.

Your own hands grasp for anything they can…his biceps, his back, and finally the belt of his jeans. You want to touch him, but you hesitate, remembering how he’d reacted last time you’d tried this. But this time, as your hand halts, he presses closer to you, pushing his hips into your touch. You pull your head back to look in his eyes as you dip your hand lower to feel his erection through his jeans. His eyes grow darker with desire, and he doesn’t stop you.

So you manage to unbuckle, unbutton, and unzip him. His mouth falls open and his finger inside you stops moving as you feel him through his underwear. He feels exactly how you’d imagined he’d feel, and even better was his unguarded reaction as you squeezed him gently.

“Fuck,” he groaned again, the word long and drawn out this time. Your grip tightens and you can’t help but smirk at his reaction, the way he bucks his hips, the way he inhales sharply.

You reach around and pull the elastic down, just far enough to free his dick so you can touch it without the barrier of fabric.

The atmosphere changes completely as you jerk him off. He fingers you at the same time now with a new vigor, one that leaves you breathless and determined to replicate the same energy. Meanwhile, your breaths become one, his mouth brushing against yours. As you pump him, his member suddenly swells in size in your hands, and you can feel the warm wetness of his precum dribbling from his tip, lubricating your motions.

And his hand…as his finger curls into you, coaxing out your moans as he hits that sweet spot every time, the palm of his hand presses into your clit. A sheen of sweat breaks on your forehead as you realize how determined he is to make you come.

Had this become a competition, too? Was it a game to see who could make the other come first? It wasn’t explicitly said, but with the energy between the two of you, you could feel it.

Frankly, you were losing. His finger—two now—just felt too fucking good.

You match his energy, cupping his balls with your other hand, and he moans against your mouth. There’s nothing graceful left in either of your actions; it’s raw passion, gritty, fast, desperate.

“Steve,” you moan. You can feel wetness running down your inner thighs, inevitably covering his fingers.

“Irresistible,” he says huskily. His fingers speed up, which in this context feels fucking unreal. The neon lights in the mirrors’ reflections start to spin. You’re losing yourself in him. You’ll lose this unspoken game unless you double down. So you adjust your grip and settle into a rigorous rhythm for him, one you knew he wouldn’t be able to resist. Sure enough, Steve’s breath shudders.

But as Steve begins to fall apart, so do you.

“Come for me, baby,” he coaxes. You fall over the ledge.

The heat emanating from the friction of his fingers overtakes you at last. The neon lights in the mirrors become kaleidoscopes in your vision. You moan out again and your knees shudder as a massive wave of pleasure racks your body. You lose your grip on his dick, instead grasping desperately at his shirt as your orgasm ripples through you.

Through the haze of it, you realize Steve has taken matters into his own hands—literally, as he jerks himself off to the sight of your climax. Steve’s hips tremor and his breath gets caught in his throat—and then he’s coming, too, all over his hands, just as you’re descending from your high.

Seconds pass, maybe minutes, there’s no sound except you and Steve gasping for air.

"I wasn't sure if you saw me as anything more than just a friend," you finally say in between gasps.

“I'm not the only dingus in the room, then,” he breathes. "Besides...we're still friends."

“Just friends don’t do this.”

“Fair.” Despite the mess you and he had just made, Steve dips down to kiss your lips once more. “Maybe more than just friends.”

✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷

A/N: Ooooof talk about horrible communication huh?? What are we all thinking? Any predictions for how Steve and Reader's relationship will change in the next chapter after this?? We still have a lot of ground to cover!

Thank you immensely for reading! I had originally wanted to make this series only a three-parter, but I still have a lot to write about for this story/this pairing. I hope you guys are in for another chapter! ◡̈

I’m dying to hear your thoughts about this work! Please note that I write fanfiction for free; my only request for repayment is a genuine expression of your thoughts, opinions, likes/dislikes, and predictions about the story. Whether it’s simply a “Wow, I loved it!”, a keyboard smash, a series of convoluted thoughts in the tags, or even a full-out review, please know that any and all feedback is welcome!

I write for the following fandoms: Elvis, Austin Butler, and Stranger Things. Requests are currently closed, but I adore receiving asks about your thoughts, headcanon ideas, other ravings, or just about life! Please send me some fun stuff in my ask box and I will cry of happiness!

Much love ❤︎ from Juniper

next chapter!!!!

Stranger Things fics taglist (if I'd added you by mistake, you'd like to be removed, or you'd liked to be added, please lmk via ask!): @rexorangecouny @k-k0129 @piecsesrising @cutesy-creep @whereintheworldisspencerreid @thingfromlove @hellfirebloodhound @buginksworld @wtfsteveharrington @yellowharrington @theangryjuniper @o-holynight @chestharrington @sexytholland @hoedameronsworld @floralcyanide @likexthexplanet @thatsonezesty13 @misaamaneswifey @undeniableadrenaline @bobo-bush @sojibug @hazzarights @touchmetouchmetouchme @homeskilletbiscuit22 @dullsocietyy @kirbursoot @lelenikki @keepingitlokiii @hoedameronsworld @xh-josii @sexytholland @theblairwaldorf2

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x you #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things s3 #works by juniper

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bnhaobservation · 5 months

Text

Keeping up with the Todorokis or, just me observing the Todorokis in the various volumes: Volume 3

So this is nothing else but a collection of information, volume by volume, about what the Todorokis do in the story or which info are revealed about them and so on.

PREMISE

WHO ARE THE TODOROKIS STARRING IN THE VOLUME?

Todoroki Enji: Chap 24 to 25 (mentioned only, although he appears in the anime transposition)

Todoroki Shōto: Chap 18 to 26

WHICH ARE THE CHAPTERS IN THE VOLUME AND ARE THE TODOROKIS SHOWN IN THEM?

018. Heroes' Counterattack (逆襲のヒーローズ Gyakushū no HEROES) Shōto

019. All Might (オールマイト ALL MIGHT) Shōto

020. The World of Pros (プロの世界 PRO no Sekai) Shōto

021. In Each of Our Hearts (各々の胸に Onōno no Mune ni) Shōto

022. That's the Idea, Ochaco (そういうことねお茶子さん Sō iu Koto ne Ochako-san) Shōto

023. Roaring Sports Festival (うなれ体育祭 Unare Taiikusai) Shōto

024. Mad Dash and Knockdown (駆け上がれ蹴落として Kakeagare Keotoshite) Enji (Mentioned) - Shōto

025. In Their Own Quirky Ways (みんな個性的でいいね Minna Kosei-teki de Īne) Enji (Mentioned) - Shōto

026. Chase Down the Leader (立て追われる身 Tate Owareru Mi) Shōto

ALL THIS IN WHICH ANIME EPISODES IS TRANSPOSED?

012 All Might (オールマイト ALL MIGHT) Shōto

013 In Each of Our Hearts (各々の胸に Onōno no Mune ni) Shōto

014 That's the Idea, Ochaco (そういうことねお茶子さん Sō iu koto ne Ochako-san) Enji (Fantasy), Shōto

015 Roaring Sports Festival (うなれ体育祭, Unare Taiikusai) Enji (Mentioned), Shōto

016 In Their Own Quirky Ways (みんな個性的でいいね, Min'na Kosei-teki de Īne) Enji (Mentioned), Shōto

WHAT HAPPENS IN THE VOLUME?

CONTINUING FROM PREVIOUS VOLUME

U.S.J. ARC (Chap 12-21): Shōto, along with Bakugō and Kirishima, reaches where All Might is and help him fight the Nomu and Kurogiri, Shōto partially freezing the Nomu with a control of his ice (he managed to freeze the Nomu but didn’t freeze All Might despite the latter being close) that positively impress All Might.

He however tells them to keep out of the fight. Shōto though, points out how things would have been troublesome without his help and All Might agrees...

...but then beats up the Nomu, impressing Shōto, who agrees they’re not at ready for the level All Might is fighting at and suggest they’ll go help others. As the other teachers reach the place Shigaraki and Kurogiri leaves. The police witness that Shōto is among the unharmed kids and Shōto discover Hagakure was in his same area so, when he used his ice, he could have frozen her.

U.A. SPORT FESTIVAL ARC (Chap 22-44): The day after classes are cancelled. The day after it, Aizawa is back at school and informs Shōto’s class they’ve to prepare for U.A sport festival. At lunch Shōto overhear Īda and Uraraka saying All Might called Midoriya and Īda pointing out how Midoriya has similar super strength to All Might while Uraraka suggests All Might could have taken a liking to him.

Two weeks after, just before the start of the sport festival, Shōto approaches Midoriya pointing out how he’s stronger and more capable than him. Then he claims All Might got his eyes on Midoriya so he’s going to beat him.

‘Midoriya’ 「緑谷」 “Midoriya.”

‘Todoroki-kun… Nani?’ 「轟くん…… 何？」 “Todoroki-kun… What is it?”

‘Kyakkanteki ni mite mo, jitsuryoku wa ore no hō ga ue da to omou’ 「客観的に見ても実力は俺の方が上だと思う�� “Even looking at it objectively, I think I have better ability, above yours.”

‘E! ? U~tsuun…’ 「へ！？うっうん…」 “Eh!? Uhu…”

‘Omae ALL MIGHT ni meekake rare teru yona.’ 「おまえオールマイトに目ぇかけられてるよな」 “You're being watched by All Might, isn’t that right.”

‘!!’ 「!! 」 “!!”

‘Betsuni soko sensaku suru tsumori ha nē ga…’ 「別にそこ詮索するつもりはねえが…」 “I don’t particularly want to pry into that but…” ‘Omae ni wa katsu zo’ 「おまえには勝つぞ」 “I'll beat you.” [Chap 23]

I didn’t transcribe the whole dialogue but Shōto’s way to talk contrast with Midoriya, who’s much more polite.

For start Midoriya refers to him as ‘Todoroki-kun’ where Shōto goes just for ‘Midoriya’.

Even if we don’t see it here, to say “I” Shōto uses ‘ore’ (おれ/俺), the tough, masculine, kind of rude way to say “I”, while Midoriya uses ‘boku’ (ぼく/僕), which is more humble, and to say “you” Shōto uses ‘omae’ (おまえ/お前) which either expresses the speaker's higher status, or a very casual relationship among peers where Midoriya goes for ‘kimi’ (きみ/君) which is the polite way to say you.

So Shōto is less polite than Midoriya and his words are clearly not nice, however he’s not super rude either. This will change later so I thought to point it out here.

Kaminari is impressed by how ‘the strongest of the class’ (aka Shōto) made a declaration of war to Midoriya and when Kirishima tells Shōto he shouldn’t pick a fight now, Shōto replies it’s okay since they aren’t pretending to be friends, here.

‘Nakayoshi-gokko janēnda nandatte iitaro’ 「仲良しごっこじゃねえんだ何だって良いたろ」 “That’s not like we are playing close friends, so it’s okay.” [Chap 23]

Midoriya agrees Shōto is stronger but claims he won’t fall behind.

The first event at the sport festival at which Shōto takes place is the "Obstacle Course Race" (障害物競争 'Shōgai Butsu Kyōsō'). Shōto freezes the legs of the one next and ahead of him and becomes the "leader" (先頭 'Sentō'). He then faces the robots which were used during the entrance exam, freezing them so that they won’t be able to move and he’ll manage to get through… but he froze them in such an unstable position they’ll fall on whoever else will try to pass. Shōto still comments he wished U.A. had prepared something better as his "shitty old man" (クソ親父 'KUSO Oyaji'), aka Todoroki Enji, is watching.

Shōto, keeping the lead, then easily passes the second barrier, tailed by Bakugō, whom he notices is all fired up and wonders if Bakugō is a slow starter. Meanwhile the public is impressed by Shōto due to his Quirk and to how he’s athletic and perceptive. When they realize he’s the son of Hero Number Two, Endeavor (aka Enji) they find normal he’s so strong and assume the Pro will fight to have him as their sidekick.

Once Shōto reaches the minefield he understands it’s an obstacle made to put in disadvantage who’s leading. At the same time Bakugō reaches him, claiming he made his war declaration to the wrong guy, surpassing Shōto. The two fight for first place when Midoriya surpasses them. In order to get first place again, Shōto makes an ice path, aware it’ll help the others too, suspending his battle with Bakugō so that they both can chase after Midoriya who however manages to keep the lead and get first place in the race while Shōto is second.

Next up is the "Cavalry battle" (騎馬戦 'Kibasen'). MORE ABOUT THIS ARC IN THE NEXT VOLUME

All in all Shōto keeps on being fleshed out more and more, so that we get how an awesome aspiring Hero he is in terms of abilities and in terms of Quirk power but also of ability to judge situations… but we also view also how cold and competitive he can be, as well as how he is aware of his own abilities. Plus we are introduced to how he’s the son of Number Two, Endeavor, but also it’s hinted how it doesn’t seem there’s good blood between him and his father.

HOW ARE THE TODOROKIS DRESSED?

Todoroki Shōto is shown in his first Hero costume, in his school uniform and in his gym suit.

IS THERE MORE CONTENT ABOUT THE TODOROKIS?

Todoroki Shōto is among the students depicted on the cover.

Of course he's also among the characters depicted among the ones starring in the volume.

In the anime, in episode 14, when Aizawa says by taking part to the U.A. sport festival they might end up noticed by Heroes, they show an image of Endeavor.

#boku no hero academia #Todoroki Shouto #Todoroki Enji #Keeping up with the Todorokis

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sapphire-weapon · 5 months

Note

(1) Hey there! I've been totally engrossed in your meta analyses on RE. You've nailed everything I've felt about the Aeon ship but couldn't express. It's tough to share views on Aeon nowadays without backlash. Their dynamic always puzzled me, like I get the trauma bonding and that they care abt each other, but come on, she keeps being part of the world Leon swore to destroy and that's not enough of a red flag for him? (cont)

(2) With the RE4 remake, it looks like they're trying to change their whole relationship, and I'm here for it. It's obvious he's rejecting her, but people blindly try to convince themselves they're a thing. They will look for the dumbest or overanalyze things to prove Aeon is alive and well, but will ignore the devs' clear attempts to show Leon flirting with Ashley. Like it's right there. There's dialogue and everything lol (3) I've got a few questions for you, if that's okay. There are still some things about Ada I can't figure out (though I guess that's what makes her interesting), and I'd love to hear your thoughts. 1. Why does Leon let Ada take the sample? Do you think she knew he wouldn't stop her?

Just for clarity's sake -- you said later that this was about Remake, so we're talking about the Amber, not the Sample.

Leon lets Ada take it for two reasons:

He trusts Luis. And if Luis and Ada had an arrangement, then Leon trusts that Ada's not going to sell the Amber to someone who shouldn't have their hands on it.

He knows what happened the last time he got between Ada and her mission objective: she almost fucking died. Would've died if not for something breaking her fall.

I don't know if Ada knew that Leon wouldn't stop her, but I'd be willing to bet that that was the reason why she namedropped Luis in the first place. She saw the "for Luis" scene; she probably banked on Leon trusting Luis more than he distrusted her.

And she was right.

2. In SW, Ada shows concern for Leon, like her voice softening when she talks about him. She's clearly into him sexually, but do you think she'd want something more than just a physical relationship? (cont.) (4) Could this be tied to her self-perception, like maybe she's pursuing Leon to prove something to herself, maybe a sign of insecurity?

Still talking about Remake, just to be clear.

I'mma be real wit u homie: I don't see what you see here. I've played through SW a few times, but I never noticed her voice softening for him in this way. I saw her speaking at a lower volume because she's talking to herself, but that's because... she was talking to herself.

So the answer is no and no. None of Ada's sense of self is wrapped up in Leon. At all. She has some sentimental attachment to him because Ada gets sentimental about people and things (for reference, see: Ada being sincerely hurt when Wesker rejects her in chapter 3, also Ada honoring Luis's memory and dying wishes for the remainder of SW after he dies), but she has no real concern for him otherwise. He's just a Thing that she wants, and Ada goes after what she wants.

3. What future do you see for Aeon? How could their relationship evolve if it's not just about tension or hints of a physical relationship like in the OG timeline? Do you think Ada will have some character growth, especially in RE6? They tried so hard to show Ada had a heart, and Aeon seemed almost like a couple, but that didnt go anywhere... again lol. (cont.)

Still talking about Remake.

In order:

There is no future for Aeon.

Right now, there is no evolution possible for their relationship, because Ada isn't there yet as a character. She needs to be someone that Leon can actually trust, and she isn't. He explicitly pushes her away in 4 for that reason. Her character change in 4 is a good start, but that's all it is. Ada still has a lot of independent growing to do in order for Leon to even tolerate her, and I honestly don't know when they could possibly fit that into the events of the series. They would have to create whole-ass new games that take place in between numbered titles just for the Remake timeline, and I really just don't see them doing that.

I've said this over and over again, but: we need to see what RE5make does. It doesn't sound like Wesker's just going to let her betrayal go this time like he did in OG, and there's a real possibility that RE5make won't kill him off. It is impossible to speculate on RE6make right now, and I wish people would stop asking me to.

Don't forget that RE6 OG ends with Leon rejecting Ada, too. There's no point to building up Leon and Ada's relationship just to have him reject her again. He's already rejected her now in 4. We're past that. Moving on. There's a real opportunity for Capcom to do something completely new with Ada's character now that they've wrapped up the Aeon melodrama early, so let's just... let them.

(5) Do you think Leon being on his own in Infinite Darkness and Death Island, with no Ada references, means CAPCOM is rethinking the ship in the OG timeline? Could CAPCOM's preference for keeping characters single be part of this (if thats even true and not another random news some fans made up)? or maybe they don't know what to do with them?

RE6 ends with Leon rejecting Ada. It's already been rethought. It's over. It's done. It's been decided. The Aeon arc has concluded. The focus of Leon's character going into the end of his story is now his relationship with the government -- which is where it should've been all along.

If they go back on that rejection in RE9, that's bad storytelling. And I actually trust the current writing staff at Capcom to know that and stick to the script. But who knows, they could always make a fool of me in the end.

I also don't know where "Capcom prefers the characters to stay single" even comes from. I've never seen a source, never read a quote, never been linked to an interview. I'm pretty sure it's shit that fans made up because they're salty their ship isn't canon yet lmao

Thanks a ton for your insights. They've really helped me get more out of the games and improve my own analysis. I'll definitely support you on Kofi! 💖

<3333333333 I don't have a functioning Ko-Fi currently, but I appreciate the sentiment all the same.

#resident evil #leon kennedy #ada wong

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jwonsociety · 2 years

Text

lovestruck // chapter 2

pairing ➼ brother's best friend!niki x fem!reader

genre ➼ strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, kind of crack because y/n's internal narration is very silly, sunoo is y/n's older brother

word count ➼ 0.7k

warnings ➼ profanity, y/n is an idiot

synopsis ➼ As the younger sister of the smart and popular Kim Sunoo, you’ve gotten used to living life as a background character. You mostly keep to yourself, you don't go to parties, and you most certainly do not have a boyfriend. One day, Sunoo brings home one of his friends and encourages you two to get to know each other… the fact that said friend is extremely cute definitely won’t be an issue, right?

taglist!! ➼ @kaal-ee @naexity @sd211 @yenqa

a/n ➼ here's chapter 2!! this one is a short one but I promise chapter 3 will come quickly~ hope u guys enjoy!!

˚₊· ➳❥

After Niki went home later that night, you made it your personal mission to learn every possible thing about him. From your brief encounter with him in the kitchen earlier (which you may or may not have replayed in your head on an endless loop for the rest of the night), you were able to discern three things: First, he has two sisters, ages unknown. You immediately decided that this was a green flag -- he was probably able to get along with women well. Seeing as you were, in fact, a woman, it all aligned perfectly. Second, dancing was his ultimate passion in life. Seriously, thirteen years of his life devoted to one thing? That’s pretty fucking passionate. You liked passion, and dancers (apparently). Third and finally, he was super cute. Okay, to be fair, that’s something you could gauge just by looking at him for more than half a second, but it was still an important aspect to you.

You had also spent a considerable amount of time that night staring at your ceiling trying to convince yourself that you did not have a crush on your brother’s friend, you just really appreciated his talent. And his face. You know, the minutiae of it didn’t really matter.

You grabbed your phone from your nightstand and unlocked it. You opened Instagram, figuring that you would probably be able to find him on there. Once you type his name into the search bar, his account popped up immediately -- @nishimura.niki. Simple. Effective. You approved.

You clicked on his profile. Unsurprisingly, you were greeted with a plethora of dancing videos, most of them taken in the same black dance studio. That must be his family’s studio, you thought to yourself. You clicked on the most recent post.

In this video, Niki was wearing a plain white tee and classic gray sweatpants. You turned up the volume of your phone and you instantly recognized the opening notes of “MOVE” by Taemin. When he began to dance, you were done for.

It was like the music breathed life into Niki’s body. Every movement he made was crisp and confident, as if he were not a dancer, but merely an extension of the song itself. You could now understand why people described dance as an art form. Niki was a breathing Renaissance painting. The choreography was slow and sultry, and every motion was like a brush striking a canvas. You could tell that this was what the boy was born to do.

You were so absorbed by Niki’s technique that you hadn’t realized you had let the video loop multiple times. You scrolled down, determined to watch more of his dancing. You discovered that Niki’s abilities were very versatile; he had covered everything from BTS to Big Bang to Twice (the latter of which you found very entertaining). You had managed to scroll all the way to a video posted in 2019 when your finger slipped and you liked it by accident.

“Oh God. No no no no no no,” you hissed, scrambling to unlike it. You threw your phone onto the bed beside you and stared at it wide-eyed.

“Maybe he didn’t see it,” you whispered aloud to yourself. “Maybe he’s asleep.”

What kind of high schooler is asleep at eight-thirty? You had to be honest with yourself. The damage was done and you knew that. But still, under the guise of your own delusion, you repeated the thought over and again, as if it would somehow make it true. Maybe he was asleep. Maybe he was asleep. Maybe he--

Bzz.

Tentatively, you reached over and picked up your phone. It was probably just another IOS update notification. Those were the majority of notifications that you got, anyways. You typed in your password and silently prayed.

[Instagram] @nishimura.niki wants to message you.

Fuck.

By the time you typed and sent that last message, your heart was pounding. Niki was fully aware of the fact that you were creepily stalking him only a few hours after meeting each other. God, you were so embarrassed. An anxious knot formed in your gut, yet… Niki didn’t seem put off by what you did. In fact, he seemed happy. You couldn’t help but smile into the darkness of your room as you were going to sleep.

You hadn’t figured Niki out yet, but you were excited to try.

#niki x y/n

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adanaac · 10 months

Text

tierlist of my favorite color pages and stuff

gushing abt them below ⬇️

i did top 4 and not top 5 bc a lot of the 5th place for these is like a 5 way tie

Double page

ch102: what ive learned from this is i really like full scenes. cmon!! who doesnt!! also man the colors are really good. hatanaka really has a deceptively good character design, once again proving to be senseis blorbo

ch88: sorry principal color page u have been dethroned as my fav i still love u so so so much tho. love the umbrella and plum blossoms, and also obviously principal is really hot. im pretty sure i know the umbrella asset on clip studio and actually have it downloaded. also i just personally love the paper cranes bc my sona is based off paper cranes

ch60: culture fes arc has some of my favorite color pages and b&w pages and my favorite aesthetic in general really. also i owe hijita my life for proposing the chinese dress theme. haru looks so so so good in chinese clothes and the combo with hatanaka's hoodie in the underground culture fes is top tier. also my favorite non-cover color page and volume promo are from this arc too

the color palette is also so good i basically stole all the colors for that halloween art i did (still love it so much). now u might be thinking. if i have so much to say abt this one why is it only 3rd. tbh its bc this one is the oldest of the 4 so ive had more time to savor it. also i just like the principal one better than this one, and i like the hatanaka one better than the principal one. (but i dont actually necessarily like the hatanaka one better than this one?? its a rock paper scissors situation)

ch79: 2 harus. im sold 👍 also makuragaeshi arc just means everything to me also i consider this color spread a package deal with the vol 12 inside color page which makes me like both of them more

at this point the seimeiliker part of me is yelling WHATT THE 2 SEIMEI COLOR PAGES ARENT EVEN HERE??? THE AME ONE ISNT EVEN HERE??? FAKE FANNN theyre tied for 5th!!! maybe even tied for 4th!! i just really like the ones that are full scenes!!!

Single page

ch25: this one isnt getting dethroned anytime soon its just so good. the COLOR PALETTE the LIGHTING AUGH ITS SO GOOD. and of course haruaki looking sexy as always 👍 this might be one of the sexiest harus tbh. i think its also one of my favorite official arts in general i cant think of many that i would confidently say i like more than this one. ITS NOT EVEN ATTACHED TO SOME DRAMATIC CHAPTER ITS THE PTM CHAPTER LMAOOO

ch46: miki pretty privilege.... i think miki arc has my 2nd favorite aesthetic, behind culture fes. tbh i like the 2 b&w cover pages from this arc just as much as the color page (maybe bc theyre more angsty by virtue of being black and white??)

ch33: i am so married to this chapter. one of if not my number 1 fav chapter. tbh this one is tied for 2nd with the miki one, its just bc i like how colorful the miki one is. this is the only time haru gets drawn with just solid black hair and its very pretty 😳 this one is also a package deal with the 2018 october gfantasy cover in my head bc theyre both teacher trio, not really in their usual outfits, from around the same time, and gets made as merch together often

ch75: im not exactly married to this one like i am with the top 3 but its just good art good composition good colors!! its just such a... cozy and normal scene contrasted with it being a color page. (wait fuck thats what the arc was about)

u may be wondering. why are all the single page ones sort of old. this is actually bc recently all the color covers are double pages (from 76 to 102 there's 1 single page and 9 double page covers)

Cover

vol 13: aughhh seimei...... punches walls etc im so normal about it hahahahah god i love the parallel with vol 1. sensei insane for this. i have nothing else to say this cover just fucks so hard i spent days oogling it why is seimei so hot. also aughh the unused draft for it would have been so good too but the vol 1 parallel was probably the right choice....

vol 10: this one stockholm syndromed its way into being my number 2. ok not really its a really good cover everyone is rly pretty and its a very fun composition and u know i love culture fes. but also it was the thumbnail on a lot of manga sites for the longest time so it ended up being the cover i associate with yohaji in general the most, maybe even more than vol 1

vol 14: i am easily swayed by principal 👍 i see principal and i neuron activation. its so funny its like the most blantant spoiler cover

vol 9: i am also easily swayed by ebisu 👍 sensei sure loves her red and blues huh. also sano in the black shirt is really hot. can u tell i also love when theres parallels

vol 8 is tied with vol 9 tbh rintarou and ibara are so pretty

Cover flaps

i didnt do the back covers bc theyre all alright to me tbh theres not standout amazing ones that make me lose my mind. ok maybe the vol 6 and vol 8 one. i am easily swayed by seimei and ebisu

now the cover flaps on the other hand. oh ym god

vol 14: WOOF WOOF BARK BARK BARK WHITE HAIR HARU WOOF WOOF THIS ONE MEANS EVERYTHING TO ME......... normal harus expression is soooo good...... the mini harus...... and Him... my cat..... sobs.... tanaka mai is a cruel god how dare she pull out this design and concept for 1 chapter and we're probably never gonna see it again..... UNLESS??? (<- mentally ill) anyway heres this promo art for no real reason other than i wanted to oogle him more

v7 and v5: lumping these together bc theyre both harusanos. can u tell i love parallels. and vol 5 has the harusano handholding and vol 7 has the sano confession under the moon.... wow......

v13: i love animal trio they mean so much to me. also just look at weasel hatanaka i wanna squeeze him like a squeaky toy

Inside color page

for a while i was like "how come my fav inside color pages all seem to be from recent volumes" it turns out its bc sensei only started doing full scenes for them starting at vol 10

the vol 11 one IS really good but its up against such bangers as "has principal" or "has haru" or "has seimei" sooooo

vol 10: look this one has principal and is culture fes of course its my favorite. easiest decision in my life. i think for all these categories the top 1 spot was super easy and 2-4 could all be shuffled around. it may not make me as mentally ill as the other 3 but its straight up good art i would set this as my phone screen any day

vol 13: hi this one makes me mentally ill. its so cool it has such cool imagery and its also so inscrutable. what does it all mean. why is saturn there. this one (and also all of kyoto arc tbh) makes me want a anime so bad

vol 12: you KNOW im a sucker for makuragaeshi arc aughhhh this one makes me mentally ill in a different direction from the vol 13 one. the fact he wore a blazer uniform when he was actually in high school and him wearing a gakuran in this arc. fucks me up every time

vol 14: aughhhh...... tanaka mai is out to GET me...... i care them so much.... so so much......

5th place probably still isnt the vol 11 one LOL sorry renpapa thats gotta go to vol 6 (the one with haru in the bath)

in conclusion. i am easily swayed by haru/seimei/principal/ebisu and i will never recover from white hair haru

and also culture fes has my no. 1 favorite aesthetic and miki arc is no. 2. time travel arc will probably prove to dethrone miki arc to become number 2 but idk if itll dethrone culture fes

#youkai gakkou no sensei hajimemashita #a terrified teacher at ghoul school #yohaji #spends the afternoon writing this shit instead of answering asks or writing the 102 tl notes post

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spine-buster · 1 year

Text

That Which We Are, We Are | Nathan MacKinnon | Chapter 4

gif credit @/happer08

A/N: so excited for this one...hope you guys enjoy!

CW: this chapter contains three instances of bullying of an overweight person

Sorcha was busy at work when she felt her phone buzz on her desk beside her. After finishing up the email she had to write to her boss, she looked over.

lunch @ lot six?

She couldn’t help but smile at the screen. She swiped on the notification and began typing.

I’m in a meeting until 1. Can you meet that late?

She didn’t even have to wait to see the three-dot bubble pop up.

yeah np. i meet w sid at 3 anyway.

God, she was going to kill him. Not only had she and Nate exchanged numbers after walking along the Halifax harbourfront after their dinner, but they’d been texting non-stop. Even worse, they’d send each other pictures of Juno and Cox looking cute or doing stupid stuff. Even worse, they’d been going for lunches together almost every day since. Sorcha could count only twice in two weeks that Nate couldn’t do lunch because he was working out with Sidney Crosby or had some other prior commitment to do with hockey. Otherwise, Sorcha was out with him at a new restaurant every day. One day, it was even another dinner. Sorcha couldn’t believe what was happening, but she wasn’t exactly doing anything to push him away. Instead, she was smiling down at her phone. Fuck.

“Whose got you smiling?” Sorcha’s boss, Janet, asked as she saw Sorcha’s smile.

“No-one.”

“Oh come on, Sorcha.”

“It’s Victoria,” Sorcha covered, because she mentioned Victoria a lot and Janet knew who Victoria was and there was no way that anybody, let alone Janet, was going to learn that it was Nathan MacKinnon texting her and making her smile. The only person who knew was Victoria. Not even her parents knew, because they didn’t have to. Nobody had to. “She sent me a funny meme.”

“Can I see the funny meme?”

Sorcha tried not to roll her eyes as she swiped quickly to get to hers and Victoria’s Instagram messages, the last of which was Victoria sending her a reel of a shiba sitting at a bar yelping at a bartender for “cutting him off” from the empty pint glass in front of him. Janet cracked a smile as she watched the video before Sorcha pulled her phone back. “Hilarious and cute, right?” Sorcha offered.

“I know you’re lying.”

Sorcha saw another text coming in from Nate.

what would u do if sid came to lunch?

I’d kill you in your sleep, Nathan.

***

“What do you think of the headband?” Sorcha asked as she FaceTimed with Victoria, modeling her new purchase for her best friend. “Do you think it’s too much?”

“Of course not!” Victoria said. “It’s really pretty. The sheer volume of your hair tones it down a bit, anyway. And besides, it’s black velvet and pearls. It’s very classic. It’s not like it’s super loud.”

“I want to wear it with that black dress that has the pencil skirt,” Sorcha mentioned. “You know, the classic all black outfit with pearls.”

“It’ll look good. But what about with a high, tight ballerina bun? I think that would look really chic, don’t you think?”

Sorcha wasn’t thinking. She only really heard Victoria speak, but she wasn’t listening. A text had come through from Nate and it covered the top part of Victoria’s face.

this reminds me of u

Sorcha had always maintained that someone sending “This reminded me of you” was one of the nicest, most sentimental, sincere, earnest, and heartfelt things to send to another person. It had just happened to her, now, with Nathan MacKinnon. “Uh, w—what was that? You broke up a bit,” she tried to cover, tapping on the notification and being led to their text history. He’d sent her a picture of a meme.

Sorcha snorted. She typed quickly, hoping it wouldn’t be noticeable.

how did you even find that lmfao

“What’s funny?” Victoria asked.

“N-Nothing, don’t worry about it,” Sorcha tried to cover.

Victoria eyed her suspiciously. She saw the look on Sorcha’s face and slowly, yet somehow all at once, it hit her. “Oh my God, did Nate text you?”

“No.”

“Buuuuuullshiiiiiit!” she screamed, her voice even cracking slightly. “You can’t fool me, bitch.”

Sorcha couldn’t get anything past Victoria. She should have known better. “He sent me a meme he said reminded him of me,” she revealed. “It was about art curating.”

“Oh my Goooddd,” Victoria practically gagged. “He’s really turning on the charm for you, isn’t he?”

“I don’t know if he’s turned it on or if he just, like, has it naturally,” Sorcha admitted – she hated to.

She watched as Victoria’s eyebrows furrowed through the screen. “Are we…are we talking about the same Nathan MacKinnon? Like, we are talking about the same Nathan MacKinnon that never said a fucking word to all of his friends that bullied you, right?”

“Right. That’s the one. That’s the Nathan MacKinnon,” Sorcha sounded like she had her tail between her legs.

“I don’t quite know what’s going on between you two, but God would I love to see,” Victoria commented.

“You two interacting together would be just an absolute delight,” Sorcha said sarcastically. Victoria wouldn’t be able to keep her mouth shut about what Nate did (or didn’t?) do to her in high school. If Victoria saw Shane, Sorcha was sure she’d buy a crossbow and shoot him between the eyes. “Too bad he’ll probably be back in Denver by the time you visit.”

***

“Good girl, Juno! Good fetch!” Sorcha cooed as she scratched behind Juno’s ears. Juno was eager for the ball to be thrown again, even barking at Sorcha for taking too long. Sorcha had a decent arm, so she threw it as far as she could across the park, watching Juno bolt towards it before grabbing it in her mouth and bringing it back. “What a good girl you are Juno!”

BARK!

Sorcha felt her phone buzz in her pocket as she threw the ball again. She got it out to read the text. She already knew who it was from.

she’s adorable can’t believe u trained her to twirl cox can’t even do that

Sorcha couldn’t help but smile as she began typing.

It was a lot of work. Probably overfed her on the treats trying to do it, but now she does it easily.

BARK!

i’m trying to train cox on how to get me beer from the fridge

Of course you are.

BARK! BARK!

Are you gonna teach him how to make you lunch too?

german shepherds are supposed to be smart dogs! i bet he could

BARKBARKBARKBARKBARK!!!!!

“Okay okay okay!” Sorcha felt guilty not paying attention to Juno, seeing the bright green ball had been dropped by her feet. Juno was looking up at her in absolute disgust. “I know, okay? I’m a bad owner, you impatient little gremlin,” she grumbled.

***

Sidney Crosby liked a good workout just like any other athlete, but Nate loved them more. With how seriously he took his diet, nutrition, and fitness, Sidney was never surprised when Nate was completely zoned in. He was especially not surprised when the ultra-competitive side of Nate came out and he got angry at losing a race or something else when they made their workouts a competition. That’s why, now, it was quite perplexing to see him pay more attention to his phone than he was the pylons for his lateral movement training. “Who’s keeping you on your phone?” Sid asked suddenly.

Sid clearly caught Nate off guard. He looked up quickly, pretending that he hadn’t just spent the last few seconds staring at his phone screen and smiling. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“I don’t think it’s nothing,” Sid pressed.

“It’s nothing. Just drop it.”

“Stop pretending it’s nothing.”

“Not pretending.”

“Then why were you smiling?”

“God, what are you, a private investigator?”

“Detective Crosby at your service. Come on, man. Is it a girl?”

“No.”

“Is it a guy?”

“No.”

“Is it—”

“—Sid, I’m asking you nicely. Please drop it.”

Sid dropped it. But he’d take that ‘Detective Crosby’ to heart and figure out what the hell was going on.

***

“I’m going to have to Google who all these people are,” Sorcha smiled, feeling slightly overwhelmed with all the teammates Nate was naming and telling her stories about from the Colorado Avalanche. “How do you spell—what was the first guy’s name? Your captain?”

“Gabe Landeskog,” Nate repeated. “His nickname is Gabe the Babe. That tells you all you need to know.”

“And the other one?”

“Andre Burakovsky.”

“And the —”

“—Mikko Rantanen, the Finnish one,” he already knew.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to visit Finland,” she joked. “Happiest country in the world and all that.”

“Mikko shows us pictures all the time. It looks incredible, but Nova Scotia’s prettier,” Nate said.

Sorcha couldn’t help but smile. For a guy who travelled all around North America for hockey, and even sometimes Europe, she loved how Nate still loved Nova Scotia best. At its core, Nova Scotia was home, and nothing could beat home. The oldest city in Europe or the prettiest buildings in Scandinavia still couldn’t warm Nate like Nova Scotia could. Sorcha appreciated that in him. It showed a true love – nothing artificial about it. And as they walked along the old streets of downtown after yet another one of their lunches, Sorcha completely understood where he was coming from and agreed with him. “Yeah. Nothing beats a Nova Scotia sunset.”

Nate nodded but stayed silent, making sure to look over at Sorcha as they continued to walk towards the Art Gallery of Nova Scotia. When they jaywalked across the street towards the now-all-too-familiar steps and Nate knew his time left with her was short, he cleared his throat and got ready. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah of course,” she looked up at him, adjusting her purse on her shoulder.

He took a deep breath. “You—I don’t know what you’re doing this weekend, but I’m having a couple friends up at my place on Grand Lake. You wanna come? I’m driving up tomorrow – Friday night.”

They had been having such a great time together the past couple of weeks. There had been lots of catching up, stories, laughter, and more. Surely she’d want to come to his house? Surely she’d want to spend more time with him outside of the city, on the lake? Surely she’d—

“No.”

Nate was taken aback by her quick, blunt response. There was a moment of shock where he just looked at her, almost as if he thought she was joking, or maybe he wasn’t hearing straight – but no. She was completely serious. Harsh and quick. “No?”

“No,” she repeated, even shaking her head this time.

Nate furrowed his brows. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“Why don’t you want to?”

“Because I don’t,” Sorcha stressed. “Because I can’t leave Juno for the night.”

“Do you honestly think I’m gonna invite you to my place and not allow you to bring your dog?” Nathan asked. “It’s not a big deal if you bring Juno.”

“I’m not coming,” Sorcha said again. “I’m not coming and I don’t have to give you a reason. No is a complete sentence.”

Nate couldn’t help but feel the anger boil up inside of him. He was getting more frustrated by the minute at her rejection. “What the hell, Sorcha?”

“What the hell Sorcha? What the hell Nathan,” she retorted. “Why are you even inviting me? What are you—what’s the game here?”

“Game? Sorcha, what the hell is wrong with you? What do you mean what game? There is no game,” Nate shot back.

“Don’t ask what the hell is wrong with me,” she replied sternly. “I don’t need that asked of me anymore, especially after you and your friends made so much wrong with me for more than half my life.”

The words would have stung, but Nate’s stubbornness acted like an armour. He barely registered what she’d said. “I’m inviting you because you’re my friend. We’re friends, Sorcha. Friends invite their friends to their house. It’s a normal thing to do.”

“Oh, we’re friends now?”

“What the hell have we been doing the past couple of weeks?!” Nate’s voice was getting louder. “What have we been doing every lunch, every dinner, every walk we’ve gone on? What are we if we’re not friends? Why won’t you come, Sorcha?”

“Because I don’t want to!”

“But why?!”

“Because I don’t want to!!! Now will you please just go?”

“Not until you—”

“—God Nathan, will you please just accept that I’m not going to your fucking house on the fucking lake?!” Sorcha was practically screaming now. “I know you’re not used to anybody saying no to you, let alone a woman, but you’ve gotta get it through your thick skull. The answer is no.”

Okay, Nate was angry. She was being defensive and distrustful when all he’d been was trustful and open with her the entire time they’d been meeting up. He’d given her absolutely zero reason to have any reservations or to act this way. He was confused more than anything, and his confusion manifested itself in anger. He thought everything was okay. He thought they’d gotten over the metaphorical hump. “Fuck this. Now you’re just offending me.”

“Maybe I’m just an offensive person,” she played along.

“You know what, whatever Sorcha,” Nate gave up, throwing his hands up in defeat before taking a step back. “I thought we were friends.”

“Guess not.”

“Bet you’re happy about that. One less uncultured hockey player you’ve gotta explain an Arthur Lismer painting to,” he said before turning his back to her and walking away, not bothering to glance back.

Nate could feel how red his cheeks were with anger. He could feel every electric volt in his body explode as he marched up the street, huffing and shaking his head. He could hear Sorcha’s voice echo in his mind as he approached his car. He slammed the door shut, turned it on, and gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. He stayed that way the entire drive, speeding through the streets of downtown, wanting to leave the city and everything he associated with Sorcha as quickly as possible.

***

The same Friday that Nathan had invited her to his house, Sorcha cuddled up on her couch with Juno watching Netflix and eating extra buttery popcorn. There was no way and no possibility that she even gave one single thought to Nathan MacKinnon or his house or the lake or anything else to do with him. Nope. Not one. Nothing. Zip. Nada.

Nope. Not her.

Concentration for whatever was playing on Netflix was proving hard since she kept glancing at her phone every other minute. Usually, it would be lit up or buzzing thanks to hers and Nate’s near constant texts back and forth, but for the first time in weeks, it was silent.

Okay, so maybe it was slightly her fault. Maybe she reacted too harshly upon his invitation to spend some time at his house. Maybe her comments and overly confident attitude that he was trying to pull a fast one on her wrecked the entire situation. That was entirely plausible. But she wasn’t completely in the wrong, and she refused to have all of the blame put on her. What was Nathan thinking inviting her to his house in the first place? While his buddies were there, too! She couldn’t think of a more unappealing Friday night. Spend a night at an isolated house on the lake with people that bullied her and made her life a living hell? She probably would have drowned herself.

That’s where Nathan should have known better. He should have known that she wouldn’t want to go, especially when his friends would be there. Why would she want to spend time with those people? Just because she was friends with him now, and had forgiven him, and had put everything concerning them in the past as opposed to keeping it in the present – none of that meant she forgave everyone else. Nate kept saying that she wasn’t the same girl that she was back in elementary and high school – and she wasn’t. She had the confidence now to say no, to not put herself in those situations. Moreover, she had the confidence to know she deserved better and to not be around those people. In no way, shape, or form was she going to expose herself to them if she didn’t need to. It wasn’t about her thinking she shouldn’t be there, or didn’t deserve to be there – it was about having the confidence in making the decision that was healthy for her.

Sorcha wished Nate saw it that way, and wished he knew better. She wished they hadn’t responded to each other in such anger.

***

Nate couldn’t remember how many beers deep he was, or how long the rap music had been playing, but he knew one thing: he wished Sorcha was here.

After their fight, Nate had gotten into his car and headed straight for his house. He was angry the entire time up, angry the entire rest of the day, and was still angry now. Getting angry at each other was one thing, but blowing up on each other was something different – and they definitely blew up at each other. He didn’t know why she wouldn’t want to come. He thought they had made such progress in the two or so weeks that they’d been hanging out. He thought they had become genuine friends and had put their past behind them, which is what he wanted. Apparently not. Apparently, Sorcha thought and felt differently. He wished he knew why, because he wanted to spend more time with her. And because…because, well…

“Dude!” Shane’s voice rung out in the room to no-one in particular. Nate looked up to see him wearing his stupid bucket hat and holding a red solo cup. “Where’s the Grey Goose? I need some more fuckin’ Grey Goose!”

Nate scowled from the couch. Shane wasn’t even supposed to be here. He was such a fucking idiot. He tagged along with his cousin again, and Nate was too nice to say that he wasn’t allowed in. But fuck was he annoying. Nate wished he had a level less of the infamous east coast hospitality so he didn’t have to deal with Shane’s shit.

“Remember when you used to pour this stuff directly down my throat?” Shane asked Noah.

“Yeah, and remember when your head would be in the toilet seat an hour later?” Noah clapped back.

Nate thought back to the high school parties he attended. He never did much, because he took hockey way too seriously, but he watched others, and he heard stories when he was debriefed the following Monday at school. Who said what. Who hooked up with who. Who wanted to hook up with who. It was all a game that he played into only sometimes, because he had better things to play into. Shane drank like a fiend. Alex was definitely the biggest Casanova in the grade. Nathan would sit back and watch. He’d listen, mostly.

Loud rap music was playing in Holly’s basement – something from Ja Rule, which Nate didn’t particularly like because it was so dated. He wished someone would commandeer the iPod and play some better music. He had half the mind to do it himself with the new iPod he got for Christmas. There were already over 2000 songs uploaded on it. Wearing one of his Mooseheads sweaters and jeans, he sipped on his water bottle.

“Holy shit, feels like every girl in the grade is down here,” Alex commented as he looked around the basement. It definitely felt true, Nate thought.

“Yeah, all except for one,” Shane huffed. “But if The Orca showed up nobody else would fit in the house.”

Everybody around Nate laughed – loud and boisterous and in agreement. Even Nate.

Nate had gotten into English class early, and sat down in his seat before all his friends surrounded him like they were in a teen movie from the early noughties. If Nate was the sun, his friends, teammates, and classmates were the planets, constantly revolving around him. Lucas was trying to scarf down his lunch sandwich even though it was only second period. Noah wasn’t doing much of anything – typical – and Alex was waiting for Nate to say something, anything, that he could respond to.

“Did you ask Jessalyn to the dance yet?” Lucas asked, mouth full of bread and baloney.

“Nah,” Nate shook his head. Every girl in the grade wanted him to ask them to the dance.

“Dude, she’s, like, waiting.”

“Yeah, well…” Nate rolled his eyes. At that moment, a figure walking into the classroom caught his eye. Sorcha Saint-Coeur. She sat at the front, making it hard for Nate to see the board through all her curly hair unless he sat up in his seat. It was annoying. Her best friend Victoria was in this class too, and sat beside her at the front, but she was away judging by her absence in first period math.

Shane caught Nate’s eye wandering and spoke up, loud enough for Sorcha to hear at the front, though the boys were congregated near the back. “What do you guys think enters a room first? Sorcha’s fat or her hair?”

Everybody snickered. Even Nate did. Sorcha didn’t even look back; she was used to it, and she knew exactly who it was coming from. She stayed still for a moment, internalizing the words before digging into her bag to get out her binder and the novel she was reading for their independent study unit – One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez. While she was reading a novel most of her classmates would be exposed to for the first time in university as a girl in grade eleven, she was sure Shane Johnson couldn’t even read a book unless it had pop-up pictures in it. But that didn’t matter to him. He was in with the hockey boys, because of his cousin, and that made him cool. He didn’t need to worry about anything because he was in. So it was easy to understand why he was such a dick: he was enabled by everyone around him.

“I say fat,” Lucas chirped. “That gut sticks out, dude.”

“I say hair,” Shane said. “She could shave it bald but then she’d have a fat head too, just like the rest of her.”

“You do it!”

“No you do it!”

“No you do it!!”

“You!”

Snickers. Hands covering mouths. All seventh-grade Sorcha was doing was sketching in her sketchbook. “Psst,” Noah hissed. When she didn’t answer, he just hissed louder. “Pssssttt!” She looked up, bracing herself for whatever he was going to say. “So are the rumours true? You tried to get lipo but there was so much fat the doctor couldn’t suck all of it out?”

“I heard there was so much at the hospital the nurses had trouble carrying the buckets of fat out,” Shane added.

“I heard your step-dad even tried paying the doctor to suck more fat out but there was just way too much,” Noah continued.

“Are your mom and step-dad gonna get divorced now? Didn’t they get married because Doctor D promised your mom he’d suck the fat out of you and now he can’t? So you’re gonna be the reason they get divorced?” Shane egged it on.

“Why won’t you just leave me alone!!!” Sorcha hissed loudly as she slammed her book shut and ran away from them.

Nate sat in between Noah and Shane and watched the whole thing.

They were monsters, Nate thought. All of them.

Even himself.

How could they not be disgusted with themselves? How could they go on living their lives knowing they had treated someone so brutally? How could any of them be living a normal life knowing the pain they caused another person? Nate felt like there were spiders crawling under his skin. He was so skeeved from the memories that he had to put his beer down and get up from his seat to take a walk. If he sat listening to Shane any longer, he would explode – and he didn’t want to. Well, not half-drunk, anyway. Sober was a different story. But it was still awful hearing him, and Nate wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

While everyone else at his house wasn’t paying attention, Nate disappeared into his room and locked the door behind him. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he took his phone out of his pocket, swiping through his contacts and clicking on the only person he wanted to speak to at the moment.

He didn’t know if she’d even pick up. They’d been so mean to each other. But he hoped for the best.

The phone rang for a while. For a brief second, he remembered that he hadn’t even checked the time before he called. It could have been three o’clock in the morning for all he knew. Fucking hell. He didn’t think this through thanks to all the beer and now—

“Hello?”

He was shocked to hear her voice on the other end. She picked up. She had actually picked up. Unprepared, and sobering up really fucking quickly all of the sudden, Nate was silent for a few moments.

“Nate?”

“We were fucking monsters to you,” he said, his voice low, and deep, but raw, and honest. “Fucking monsters.”

Sorcha stayed silents for a few moments too. “Yeah. You were,” she agreed.

“That’s why you didn’t want to come.”

Sorcha couldn’t believe it was two in the morning, that she was still up, and that she was having this conversation with Nate. She couldn’t believe he realized the reason behind her choice, either. “Exactly,” she said.

Nate felt like complete shit. He’d treated her so horribly and practically yelled at her in front of her place of employment and he was just shit, shit, shit all around. He was shit all those years ago for not speaking up and defending her against bullying and harassment and he was shit now for not realizing she didn’t want to expose herself to that again and only thinking about himself. He was being selfish in a situation that needed selflessness. “God Sorcha, I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so—I’m fucking—God,” he was exasperated, unable to find the words.

“I told you that I forgave you a long time ago, Nate,” Sorcha said. It was easy enough to hear the pain in his voice. “You don’t need to keep apologizing to me.”

“But I think I do,” he admitted. “I just—I remembered the lipo rumours from grade seven—”

“—Nate—”

“—Shane and his—the orca comments—”

“Nate, please stop,” Sorcha’s voice was the perfect mixture of soft yet firm. “If I can leave those in the past, so can you.”

“This whole time that we’ve been talking, Sorsh, and reconnecting, I just—I sat there tonight surrounded by all these people and I should have been happy because they’re all my friends and my buddies I’ve known for years but all I could think about is you,” he admitted. “I miss you, Sorcha.”

The hairs at the back of her neck stood on end. She bit her bottom lip so hard she could have almost drawn blood. “You’re treading on very dangerous territory when you say something like that, Nate.”

“So what if I am?”

“You’ve gotta understand the magnitude of those words.”

“Because I mean it,” he affirmed. “I miss you. I want to spend time with you.”

Sorcha couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Here she was on a phone call with Nathan MacKinnon at two in the morning where he was confessing missing her, wanting to spend time with her. The entire universe could have been sucked into a supermassive black hole and collapsed, all molecular life gone with it, and Sorcha still would have bet on that having a greater chance of happening than Nate saying those words to her, admitting what he was admitting to her. She was shocked, but at the same time…

…it was so easy for her to give in.

And it shouldn’t have been that easy. There should have been more resistance from her. More walls that Nate would have to tear down. But he already did in the last couple of weeks, one by one, dinner by dinner, lunch by lunch, and that’s why this decision was so easy. That’s why she allowed herself to feel good about this. She deserved it – the kind words, the lovely sentiments, the attention, the texts, the memes, the late night phone calls, the ‘I miss you’s and ‘I want to spend time with you’s. She deserved it all. And she was going to take it.

“Hey Nate?” she asked.

“Sorsh?” he was scared she was going to follow up with an emphatic go fuck yourself.

“How’d you know who Arthur Lismer was?” she asked.

“You talked about him that one time during dinner. How he painted a bunch of stuff of the Halifax Harbour and the warships. Seascape 1919 is your favourite painting,” he said. As the sentence progressed along every word, he could practically feel Sorcha smiling through the phone. It put his mind and body at ease, so much ease. “I listen to you when you talk, you know.”

Well that was apparent now. Sorcha was smiling from ear to ear in her bed in Halifax. “Nate?”

“Sorsh?” his voice was so hopeful.

“You wanna grab a coffee on Monday?”

“Please.”

“Okay. I’ll let you know where to meet me.”

“We can talk things over. Face to face,” he offered.

“Yeah. We will. Have a good night,” she said.

“Sweet dreams, Sorcha,” were Nate’s last words to her before they ended the call. Nate sat on his bed looking down at the screen, willing Sorcha to appear somewhere in the room.

Sorcha put her phone back on her nightstand, taking a deep breath in before laying down in her bed again and staring straight up at the ceiling.

Oh boy. She was in some serious, serious trouble.

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dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice · 10 months

Text

To the Shadows that Cry Witch /// Chapter 14

OK SO APPARENTLY I MISSED POSTING LAST WEEKS CHAPTER??? I mean I was panicking about going on holiday, BUT STILL?? THE FACT THAT I DIDN'T EVEN REALISE. Guys if I don't post feel free to ask me why because 9/10 times it's my dumb adhd ass forgetting cuz she's stressed. But on the bright side - I GOT INTO UNIVERSITY!!! So I'm in a very good mood rn and managed to write this entire chapter in less than an hour. It hasn't been proofread, but I'm gonna have to do that another time. Enjoy! <3

Summary: Magic was real, but it came at a price. So when two girls end up in the one place they never thought they could reach, strange things began to happen. Good or bad? That's up to them to find out.

Tags: Kili x oc/reader - Fili x oc (POV to be written soon) - Thorin's company × ocs/reader (platonic) - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Bagginshield

Word Count: 1732

Warnings: Mentions of Minor and Major Injuries from last chapter.

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

PLEASE START FROM THE BEGINNING IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY OK LOVE U

Want some background music? Check out my Soundtrack Playlist!

Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

< Chapter 13 // Chapter 14 // Chapter 15 >

Part 2: Chapter 14 -

Thanks, I hate it.

Skreigh (Definition): To utter a harsh abrupt scream (Noun / Origin: Gaelic / Sk·r·ay)

Eventually, Kay lifted her head up. Her grey eyes were rimmed by a crimson red as they blinked up as the two of us, and if you looked closely, you could see a tremble in her hands as they came up to wipe at her face.

Bilbo immediately sped into action, marching over to the bed and swiping the second blanket that laid at the end. Shaking it out of its folds, he draped it over Kay’s shoulders, and I handed over her tea, making sure that the shaking in her limbs didn’t spill the hot liquid down her front. Taking a small sip, she let out a shaky sigh.

“Are you okay?”

Bilbo was the first to break the silence with his question, kneeling down in front of my friend, looking at her with both concern and slight fear.

Kay nodded. Bilbo got up, murmuring something about food helping before he left for what was probably the kitchen. I waited a second before speaking.

“That was so scary.” I whispered, too shocked about the ordeal to take note of my volume.

“I’m fine, really.” Kay croaked, taking another sip of tea.

“Kay, I thought you were dying.” I protested, “What happened?”

She opened her mouth, taking a few seconds to get the words out.

“I wanted to tell Bilbo about where we came from, where our home is and–” She welled up, taking deep breaths to calm herself down as I waited patiently in silence. “My head just started to hurt. Like, worse than the concussion, as if someone stuck knives in both sides of my brain and shimmied them around. And then… I tried again to say something out loud and my throat just closed up.”

I shuffled over next to her, and she leant on me, resting her head on my shoulder as she cradled the tea in her hand.

“I guess I also thought I was dying.”

I tensed up at her words, now scared about what would happen to me if I tried to do anything similar, whilst simultaneously being scared for Kay. Though I was brought back out of my thoughts at the sound of her voice again.

“–It was as if something didn’t want me saying anything.”

I felt the hairs on my neck stand up at those words, and I suddenly got the god-awful feeling – you know – the one where you feel like you’re being watched. But I knew that surely, we couldn’t be, since the only door was closed and the curtains drawn. But that attempted reassurance did nothing to stifle the uneasy sensation that grazed itself along the back of my neck and down the sides of my arms.

“Maybe that something doesn’t want people finding out about us?” I suggested to try and reassure Kay, and also distract myself from that weird feeling. “It could be to protect us.”

“Protect us from what?” She whispered nervously.

“Perhaps from those who… want to use our knowledge to cause harm?”

I felt Kay’s head shift on my shoulder slightly, and I could see the way her brows furrowed in confusion.

“What knowledge? Half the stuff we know is too advanced for them. Like, not to brag, but A-Level Sciences are something they’re a long while away from understanding.”

I nodded in agreement, feeling a small smile appear on my face at the thought of being the smarter one for once. Though all those thoughts were washed away as an answer to Kay’s question came to mind.

“Maybe… knowledge of what is to come?”

Kay froze.

“Shit. You’re right.” She hissed.

A beat passed as more thoughts invaded my mind. One stood out, and I quickly shuffled to sit opposite Kay, facing her.

“We need to find out what day it is.” I blurted.

“Day? I heard Bilbo say what day it was earlier, but it was a weird word…” She mentioned, scratching at her head in thought.

“Can you remember what it was?” I asked, the desperation in my voice crawling through.

“I’m pretty sure it began with an M?” She replied.

I immediately racked my brain, sifting through all the obscure Middle Earth facts I had read over the years. I knew that the Shire had its own calendar, including days of the week. They were the same as our days of the week, but some days had a different name. From what I could recall, Sunday and Monday remained the same, and I could easily remember that Tuesday was Trewsday, due to them both sounding so similar, but the rest were still tucked away, hidden in the confines of my mind that only resurfaced once in a blue moon, and believe me, it is as frustrating as it sounds.

“Mer-something?” She added.

“Mersday!” I half yelled. “I think that means Thursday?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.” She said confused.

I fiddled with the corner of the blanket that was draped over Kay, then twisted towards the door.

“BILBO?!”

A crash was heard, then the rapid slapping of feet on wood, before Bilbo rounded the corner with frantic eyes.

“Yes?!” he gasped.

“What’s the date?” I asked with a smile.

He paused, a deadpan look on his face as he realised no one was dying again, and he straightened up with a heave, in an attempt to retrieve his breath.

“Date?”

We both nodded with a grin, and with an unamused sigh, he answered.

“It’s Mersday, the twenty-ninth of September, if you must know.” He huffed with a shrug, slapping his hands on his legs. “Any other obscure things you wish to know, after almost dying for no reason?”

The two of us looked at each other, and he rolled his eyes with a groan.

“Yes, what?” He asked sarcastically.

“The year?” I said.

He gave us a strange look, as he has done every time we did something out of the ordinary over the last couple days.

“Twentyyy… nine, thirty nine.” He answered slowly.

“Thirty-nine?” I repeated.

“Y-yes.” He said exasperated.

“Ok,” I said as I did the math in my head, before looking back up at Bilbo. “Thank you.”

He nodded slowly, a little unsure about what just went on in the last few minutes, and began turning back towards the door.

“That’s no problem. I’m gonna… make myself a cup of…” He pointed awkwardly at the doorway, “Chamomile. Yep. Chamo – Goodnight.”

He disappeared promptly, and I twisted back towards Kay.

“So it seems that we’re a little early.” I whispered.

“For the…” She made a walking motion with her fingers.

“Journey, yes.” I nodded. “A whole 20 months before Gandalf shows up, if I’m correct.”

Kay grunted in frustration, most likely at the thought of waiting for an entire year and eight months for Gandalf to commence O.D.R – Operation Dwarf Rave, in other words. Or Bag End’s demise, if you will.

Stifling a yawn, I lifted Kay’s arm up to squint at the time on her Hello Kitty watch she had retrieved from her suitcase earlier, to see it was almost midnight. I got to my feet and shuffled over to the door.

“Right, I’m gonna head to bed and attempt to rid my brain of the image of you dying. And you’re gonna sleep until you’re fully energised after all –” I gestured at her, “–that.”

She nodded in agreement, and flopped onto her bed, wrapping her arms around her teddy.

“And no talking about our world.” I said in a mocking strict voice.

Kay rolled her eyes at me, and I ducked through the doorway as a pillow flew in my direction. I yelled goodnight as I made my way back through the house to my room, extinguishing the low burning candles on my way, allowing the darkness to follow me until I reached the glow of Bilbo’s room, who was already watching the doorway as my footsteps neared.

“Is she alright now?” he asked, a slight undertone of worry in his voice.

I nodded. “Yea she’s gone to bed. Still a little shaky, but she’s managed to calm down.”

“Ok.” He said, reassuring himself with a nod, before looking back up at me. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

I smiled as we both bid each other goodnight, and I carried on down the hallway. Ducking under the last archway, I finally made it to my room and closed the door behind me. Taking the last lit candle, I placed it on my bedside as I changed out of my clothes into one of Bilbo’s nightgowns, which acted as more of a shirt for me. Shuffling under the covers, I turned around towards the headboard. Manoeuvring the pillows around, I took some and scrunched them in an out in an attempt to fluff them up. Placing the final one down with a pat, I kept my body facing the head of the bed as a leant over to the candle. Opening my mouth slightly, I prepared to blow out the flame, only to halt in my tracks.

I felt myself freeze in place at the sound of a rustle within the room. Moving only my eyes to the left, I stared in the direction of the noise, which sounded like something heavy being knocked around. It was soon silent again, only the sound of the wind and the faint hoot of a distant owl from outside, along with the roaring of blood from my rapidly beating heart, could be heard.

Slowly but surely, I turned my head, until I was finally able to see the entirety of the dimly lit room. Staring with wide eyes, my sight fell upon the wardrobe in the corner.

Whilst being half the size of my one at home, it was still large enough to hide someone, which was exactly what I was panicking about. As silently as I could, I slipped off the bed, candlestick in hand, along with the small stool from another corner, and I crept towards the tall piece of furniture.

Now, I understand that in horror films, this is exactly how someone gets killed, but I needed my sleep, and I wasn’t going to let some hobbit burglar that wasn’t Bilbo take that away from me.

Pointing the stool legs towards the doors, I placed the candle on the chest of drawers next to the wardrobe, and slowly stretched out my hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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