#from strangers to friends to one minute lovers in season 2 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ln444 · 6 months

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my english love affair

cw: MDNI+18, f!reader, strangers to lovers, soulmates au, fluff, smut, maybe slight angst? depends on how you see it lol, fingering (f), penetration, soft dirty talk, a lot (like a lot) of kissing and sharing long gazes, whipped lando again bc im obsessed sorry.

now playing: english love affair by 5sos, let me by zayn.

notes: omg this took so long 😭 i'm not really confident abt my smut, i feel like i'm writing fluff way better but i hope you like it!! i might write a part 2, let me know if you like this one! enjoy🤍

requested by anon | requests open!

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“when the lights go out, she's all i ever think, i can't forget my english love affair, today i'm seven thousand miles away”

the thought of finally going back to his f1 driver life fills lando with excitement. sure, lando loves england — it's his home, after all. but nothing can compare to the rush he feels when he's in an f1 car, traveling all around the world and meeting his fans.

for his last night town, lando's friends convinced him to hit the club. normally, he prefers staying in to rest before the start of the season but a little fun doesn't hurts, right? he won't have much time to do it during the grand prix.

despite his fame, lando still gets surprised when someone recognizes him, especially at the club. he knows he's known for his looks, and he's aware of the attention from admirers, but it still catches him off guard in real life. sometimes, the attention can be overwhelming, especially when he just wants to have a good time with his friends and ends up with some overly clingy girls.

lando decides to excuse himself, seeking some fresh air. the pressure of the coming season is getting to him, and the situation doesn't help. he finds a quiet spot with a few people smoking and making out, leans against the wall, and closes his eyes for a moment, letting out a relieved sigh.

suddenly, a voice startles him from his thoughts, "did your friends force you to come here too?" his head jerks towards you, and you're standing beside him, out of nowhere. he takes time to answer, surprised by your unexpected presence. after realizing that he left you without any response, he clears his throat, a bit confused, "nah, just needed some fresh air" he mumbles, a small smile forming on his lips. you chuckle slightly, and comment "not surprised, having so many girls fawning over you must be exhausting", there's a small hint of tease in your voice that makes lando's smile grows.

finally, as he turns to study your features under the soft glow of the night lights, lando finds himself entranced by your captivating beauty, the grace of your features leaving an indelible impression on him. he can't help but get lost in your eyes shining in the dim illumination, making it difficult for him to look away. it takes him a good minute to quickly look away, thanking the night for hiding his rosé cheeks.

he gazes at the sky, trying to think of something to say that doesn't sound awkward — and also trying to get his shit together. he suddenly feels the need to make a good impression. "i mean, it's not that i don't appreciate the attention, but wow, they can be quite persistent."

his hands find their way into the pockets of his jacket, and his eyes avoid meeting yours, fearing he might get lost in them again. "yeah, i know. they're my friends," you say with a small chuckle, not because he's making fun of them, but more because of the use of the term 'friends.'

lando's eyes widen, and he turns to you, 'i'm sorry, i didn't mean to-' but he stops himself, looking down, feeling too embarrassed to find the right words. you laugh softly and move closer to him, your shoulders brushing and lando can feel his body tense up due to the closeness.

"hey, it's okay. i don't really consider them my friends, anyway," you say nonchalantly and lando lets out a sigh of relief, a smile slowly spreading on his face. "wow, that's nice for them", you both laugh and lando doesn't miss the way you subtly lean into him, your shoulders finally touching. he turns his head away from you, clearing his throat once more, trying to control the warmth spreading through his body.

"hey", you suddenly call out after a minute of tranquil silence and lando dares to meet your gaze, instantly regretting when he's captivated by your radiant eyes. he finds himself unable to look away and you both share an intense, unspoken connection, as if you've known each other for years. everything feels perfectly right at this moment.

"wanna get out of here?" you finally suggest, your words barely more than a whisper, your focus entirely on lando's mesmerizing eyes. you take his hand, both fitting perfectly like two puzzle pieces and you let him drag you in the dark streets.

after a walk filled with stolen gaze and silly conversations, you found yourself on lando's couch, engrossed in his f1 souvenirs and you have never felt so much passion, feeling your heart soften every time your see that sparkles in his eyes. lando never thought that his night will end up like this. sure, he might ended up with a girl from the club like he usually do, but this time was different. he never really experienced this; having sweet and innocent conversations with a stranger from a club. the atmosphere is tranquil yet there's a subtle tension in the air.

lando couldn't help but be his flirty self, playfully teasing you from time to time. however, your responses makes him somewhat nervous — it's a new sensation to him, having a girl making him feel this way. perhaps it's the way you gazes at him with patience and attention, your lovely smile that you share generously with him or how closely you listen to his random f1 stories. lando and you end up scrolling through photos in his phone, with him recounting the stories behind each one. he couldn't help but feel his heart melt your reactions; your smiles, your laughs, and your curiosity as you ask for more details and share your own anecdotes.

a soothing silence descended, and the two of you sit beside each other, thighs and shoulders lightly touching. lando struggles to contain the fluttering feeling in his stomach when you turn to look at him. he dares to meet your gaze, trying to focus on your eyes rather than your enticing lips. lost in each other eyes, you can't tear your gazes away. a brand new emotion envelops both of you, one that's strangely familiar yet undeniably unique, as though destiny has brought you together in this very moment and lando can't help but wonder if soulmates might actually exist.

you finally speak, after what feels like an eternity, in a soft voice, "you can kiss me, lando", you whisper like it's a secret. lando stomach tighten and he don't even take the time to answer, gently placing his hand on your cheek to pull you for a shy kiss. your lips discover each other, timidly and your hands instinctively slides around his neck to pull him closer.

you can't seem to get enough of each other, savoring every moment as you explore each other's mouths. lando's hand venture on your hips, and the chill of his touch sends shivers down your spine, as you suppress a soft moan in your throat. the kiss grows more intense, both of you yearning for more. without the need for words, you share an unspoken understanding of each other's needs, as if you've been intimately connected for ages. out of breath, you both finally pull away, foreheads touching, sharing a playful gaze, giggling and blushing like teenagers experiencing their very first kiss.

after one last sweet peck on the lips, lando takes your hand and stands, guiding you towards the bedroom, careful not to stumble due to both your impatience and the lingering dizziness of that passionate kiss.

not wasting time, he gently guides you onto the bed, positioning himself on top of you. he can't resist the urge to pause and admire you, your eyes shimmering in the soft glow of the dim lights. before he gets lost in that gaze, his eyes roam to study every detail of your face, causing you to blush and squirm beneath him. your arms tighten around his neck, and you chuckle, bringing lando back to the present. "like what you see?" you whisper, stealing a smile from him as he draws closer, his lips teasingly brushing against yours. "oh, absolutely," he murmurs before capturing your lips in a kiss. this time, it feels different; electrifying.

lando's hands slips, beneath your dress, and this time a whimper escapes your lips, making lando smirk through the kiss. his hands dares to explore the skin of your thighs, creating an unusual feeling in your stomach — and making your pussy slightly throb. your fingers finds their way into his curls, gripping onto them as the kiss becomes messier; your tongues dancing together.

"just take it off already" you huff and puff, seeing lando struggling and he lets out a chuckle "damn, someone is impatient", he says, teasing you, before finally taking your dress off. his eyes travel your body, and you've never felt so vulnerable, your cheeks burning. lando let out an unwanted groan, completely loving the view and he stares a bit too long until you pull him for another kiss to put him out of his thoughts. he takes a moment to kiss you back and it's your turn to slide your hands beneath his shirt, playing with the lines of his abdomen, making him moan softly against your lips.

after a good minute of kissing and touching, you finally take off his shirt and his pants, on the way, leaving you both in your underwear. lando leaves kisses along your jawline, going down to your chest, his hand sliding in your back to unbutton your bra and the way your boobs bounce out of it makes lando groan, feeling his erection grows. your grip on his hair gets tighter as you watch him play with your nipples, flicking it and licking it and the view drives you crazy.

you moan his name softly, pulling on his hair to make him look at you and you share a long stare, full of lust, both craving for more. you pull him for a sloppy kiss, trying to show how impatient you are and lando gets the message, pulling down your panties and getting rid of his boxers.

lando's mouth leaves yours and is replaced by his fingers, stealing a whimper from you. your eyes meets his as you suck on his fingers and, if they could, his eyes would burn holes into yours. lando found himself getting more and more impatient, the way you suck on his fingers with that irresistible look making it harder for him to contain it.

pulling out his fingers out of your mouth and without leaving your eyes for a second, his two fingers found your hole, slipping gently in it and you throw instinctively your head backwards, a moan escaping your mouth. lando take a good look at you in that position before taking the opportunity to leave kisses on your exposed neck, fighting the urge to suck on it to not leave marks, not wanting to overstep your boundaries.

"feeling okay?" he whispers softly, his breath hitting your skin, making it difficult for you to fight the whimpers escaping your mouth. lando takes a minute to look at you, to make sure that you don't feel any pain or discomfort.

"mmh'yes, you can move, please oh my god" you desperately says and lando can't help but pull you for another messy kiss. his fingers start moving in you, stretching your walls and you become a moaning mess, your eyes closing and lando takes advantage of it to admire you, his moves getting faster and faster.

"are you close, princess?" he murmurs close to your lips, feeling your body trembling and hearing the way your moans gets louder. you can only shake your head; feeling the bottom of your stomach getting warmer and the nickame almost make you choke on your moans. lando slows down to make scissors movements, his thumb rubbing your clit to help you reach your climax. he can't take off his eyes of you, inspecting every aspect of your face; the way your face crunches and your mouth is slightly open to let multiple sounds out of it. he could almost come just by this sight, his own crotch getting bigger.

with a loud and long moan, you finally climax, arching your back and lando plant soft pecks on your neck, whispering sweet words to you and telling you how good you're doing. breathless, you absently stroke his hair and close your eyes for a moment trying to calm the beat of your heart but lando makes it hard; his hands traveling your body and his lips attached to the skin of your neck.

the sudden emptiness when lando pulls out his fingers make you whimper and he lift his head to meet your gaze — he lost count of how many times he got lost in your eyes tonight. your hand make its way to his cock and the sudden touch makes lando slightly startle, a groan leaving his mouth. before you start stroking it, his hand comes to stop you immediately and you look at him, confused and with a hint of worry; silently asking him if you did something wrong.

"wanna fuck you now or i might go crazy", he says, almost whimpering and you slightly laugh, pulling his face closer to yours. "someone is impatient huh", you tease, a small smirk forming on your lips and he can't help but mirror that smirk. "how can i not when you look at me like that?" he takes your bottom lip between his teeth before kissing you again, his body getting closer and his cock brushing on your pussy makes you both moan through the kiss. you take his dick, once again, in your hand to guide it through your hole this time. and slowly, he penetrates you, a long groan escaping his lips at how tight you feel around him and you break the kiss to moan loudly.

"so fucking tight, baby, just for me", he mumbles close to your lips and you can't even answer, too overwhelmed by the way he's filling you — and his dirty words. when you finally adjust, he doesn't waste any minutes and start moving. you both moan in unison, holding into each other like your life depends on it. he watches you go crazy over his cock; the way your eyes gets watery, the way you hold into the sheets — your other hand too busy pulling his hair —, the way you can't control the continuous moans, his name slipping out of your mouth from time to time and encouraging him to go deeper into you. and he does go deeper, slowing down the pace to thrust into you as deep as he can, reaching your sensitive spot.

"right here? like that, baby?" he moans, feeling you tightening around him. his voice makes it harder for you to hold your growing orgasm. your hand leaves the sheets to hold onto his shoulder, your nails crawling into his skin. lando suddenly feels the urge to look at you in the eyes — maybe because his orgasm is getting close too. his hand finds a way to your neck, his fingers wrapping around it gently "look at me, angel", he says in a husky voice that could make you come at any moment. struggling to keep your eyes open, you try your best to hold his gaze, the way he's looking at you making you insane.

his thrusts gets faster and you can't control the sounds escaping from your mouth anymore. you look away for a moment, too overwhelmed and lando's hand travels to your face, cupping it gently to keep it straight "eyes on me, love". you obey, meeting his gaze and it's all too much for you.

you don't even have to use words for lando to understand that you're getting close, the way your eyes gets watery and your body shakes is enough. with his hand going back to your throat, lando accompany you into your orgasm, enjoying the way you scream his name and you manage to hold his gaze. his own orgasm comes a few minutes after yours and he makes sure to pull out before ejaculating, his groans echoing in the room. he immediately falls besides you and you both just stay like this: his leg over yours, your hand still in his hair as you try to catch your breath. lando uses his last drops of strength to grab a tissue from the nightstand and clean his fresh cum on your stomach.

he pulls you close again, linking your legs together and letting you play with his hair. the silence is so peaceful; the warm of your bodies making you both relax immediately. a smile unconsciously forms on lando's lips at the sight of your tired face, your eyes shining in the almost dark atmosphere of the night. you look back at him, smiling back and giggling, making lando raise an eyebrow in confusion.

"what's so funny?" he says, fighting the smile growing on his lips. "i just slept with the lando norris", you tease and lando groans, hiding his face in his arm. "i knew you were a fan!" he replies playfully, playing along. you laugh in sync and lando's heart feels at peace; all the worries about the incoming season completely forgotten. your hand gently plays with his curls as you absently stare at the ceiling, an unbeatable smile on your face.

lando, on the other side, can't take his eyes off you, watching you slowly fall asleep and enjoying your fingers in his hair. and just before you completely close your eyes, you turn to him, offering him a last kiss; so tender and passionate that your hearts both might burst out of your chests. pulling out, lando watches you fall asleep, not fighting the smile on his face anymore.

he usually struggles to sleep before an important day but this time, his mind is only filled with you and this night spent by your side. and just like that, it's lando's turn to meet the sandman.

with a groan, lando struggles to reach and silence the blaring alarm. the morning sunlight aggressively shines through the curtain, making him shield his face with his arm, staying in half asleep state for a minute as he gradually gets out of it.

then it suddenly hits him; you're no longer beside him.

lando suddenly starts to panic, jolting him into full wakefulness. he springs out of the bed and desperately search for any signs of you in every room of his apartment but you're nowhere to be found. he mutters curses under his breath, passing a hand to his messy hair — the thought of you messing his hair last night making him even more frustrated. defeated, he returns to the bedroom, his gaze falling on the tousled sheets where everything happened. as lando realizes that he didn't even ask for your name, frustration festered within him, causing him to clench his hair.

however, amidst his self reproach, a small piece of paper on the nightstand catch his attention, and he immediately rushes to it.

"we will meet again, i promise. you're going to kill it, lovely boy. y/n, x"

lando can't even fight the smile creeping on his lips, his heart softening — it was beating way too fast just by the thought of not even knowing your name. he sinks back onto the bed, your smell immediately hitting him and making him even happier. he reads those few words repeatedly and his hands falls onto his chest, holding the paper close to his heart as he whispers your name again and again, savoring its melodious sound. lando can't help but tell himself that soulmates might exist.

"i am going to kill it,", lando murmured to himself, a foolish grin etching on his face.

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part 2?:p join the tag list here!

masterlist

#lando norris x reader #lando norris #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 fluff #f1 imagine #f1 angst #f1 smut #lando norris smut #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagine #lando norris drabble #lando norris fanfic

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thepascalofus · 9 months

Text

Supply Run - Return (part two)

AO3

PART ONE

Supply Run - Exchange (part three)

Pairing: Mando/Din Djarin x afab!Reader

Word Count: 8.0k

Summary: You’ve been Mando’s crew partner for a year now. Throughout that year Mando has warmed up to you and given you signs that your heart throbbing crush on him is reciprocated. There’s one thing making you hesitate. The condoms he bought on the most recent supply run.

Chapter Summary: While Mando takes a trip to the market and gets what he needs, he ponders your relationship and what it means to him.

Content Warnings: MDNI, 18+ only! Switching POVs, post season 2, the Crest lives, strangers to friends to lovers, mentions of Grogu, soft!Mando, insecure!Mando (a smidge), helmet loopholes, pining, idiots in love, jealous!reader, sad!reader for a little, mentions of sex work (sex work is work!), eventual SMUT (making out, grinding, f!receiving fingering, f!receiving oral sex, p in v, PRAISE kink, dirty talk), FLUFF, cuddling, happy ending guaranteed!

A/N: Thank you all so much for the responses on the first part! This is my first fic that I've ever shared and it makes me so happy that other people enjoy my writing! Enjoy!

Mando handed his scope off to you in the worn down store. Wallpaper peeled from the ancient wooden planks of the walls. Cobwebs littered the untouched areas of the store. The work stations in the back, visible from the pick up counter at the front, were in complete disarray. Several projects started, but not finished. Several projects finished, but not retrieved.

You took the scope in your hand and twisted it in your hands until your gaze landed on the name of the manufacturer and the serial number. Your eyebrows shot up once the brand of the scope was revealed, it twisted in your hands once more. Hands raising the metal tube so it was level with your eyes, you looked into the scope.

“Ah! I know what it is!”

Mando watched in confusion as you ran to a workstation and grabbed a singular tool. How did you know what was wrong so quickly? He sat in the hull of the Crest for hours attempting to fix the scope. The motions of taking the scope apart and putting it back together were etched into his brain from the number of times he did so.

You returned to the front of the store with the tool in hand. “This manufacturer has been having these issues lately. They built their magnification system like no one else, but they didn’t seem to account for the need to recalibrate the scope every once in a while. Recalibrating too often causes the lenses to misalign.”

Mando calibrated his every day. He had to. It was part of his job. A miscalibration could be the difference between a two hour hunt and a twelve hour hunt.

Your face twisted in concentration as you inserted the tool into the side of the scope. Jostling the metal, it popped open and allowed access to the inside. “For some reason they put these weird pins in…” You trailed off while you removed a total of three thin metal pins. Once the pins were removed, you clicked the top of the scope back into place and handed it to Mando.

Mando previously took the scope apart countless times. He never noticed any pins.

“Twenty credits, please.” You said with a smile. Your gaze met his–you somehow found it through his black visor–and you maintained eye contact.

The display on the inside of Mando’s helmet only progressed seven minutes after he entered the store. Inside of his helmet his eyebrows shot up. He was impressed. Not only with your efficiency, but with the reasonable price as well.

“I’m impressed.” He stated. Nodding at you, he retrieved a few credits from his utility belt and set them on the paint chipped counter. He turned and walked a few paces and then stopped in front of the door.

He’s been looking for a crew mate for weeks. The potential candidates he’s stumbled across were either annoying, rude, or incompetent. Throughout his time as a bounty hunter he’s been to countless repair shops. The service was always lack-luster, prices were too high, repair time much too long.

Sure, he just met you eight minutes ago, but you had potential. He turned on his heel and faced you. Armor glinted in the low lighting of the run down shop.

“Are you in the market for a new job?”

–

Walking to the market, he’d been reflecting on his decision to bring you onto the Crest as a crew partner.

It was the best decision he ever made, besides saving Grogu from the Empire.

You were intelligent. Friendly. Resourceful. Efficient. Brave.

You stared a Mandalorian straight in the eyes–well, visor–and didn’t even flinch. You didn’t even break eye contact, unlike everyone else. People would turn to whoever they’re with to avoid his gaze. They spoke like he wasn’t a meter or two away–and like he couldn’t amplify their voices with his helmet.

His tall, broad stance usually set everyone on edge. The heavy weight of beskar armor, a reminder of his skillset, didn’t aid in calming the nerves of anyone either. He was typically soft spoken around others, as he noticed people’s reactions when he spoke–eyes wide, speech stuttering, shaking hands–scared.

Everyone was afraid of him.

Except you.

When you first boarded the Razor Crest, Mando was extremely careful in making sure you were comfortable. The majority of his days not hunting were spent in the cockpit or in his bunk. Whenever you crossed paths in the hull you offered him a small smile and quickly looked away. Did your bravery fade away?

He came back from a hunt one day, quarry in tow, and he was relieved to hear, “How was your day?” Fall from your lips once the bounty was in carbonite.

Still cautious–mindful of how the modulator made his voice sound–he kept his answers short and to the point.

“Fine.”

“Busy.”

“Awful.”

Hearing the four words you said after each return from a hunt, and being able to give you a response without you slinking away, made the hunts worth it.

One night always stood out in his mind. It was just like any other return from one of his hunts. Mando dragged the quarry up the Crest’s ramp by a cord tied around their ankles. He lifted the man to stand up, doing so effortlessly with a few grunts to spare.

Your living space was in the hull, so he always tried to make the ends of his hunts fast. You didn’t have any choice but to watch. Mando didn’t want to make you watch for too long. Maker, he didn’t want you to watch at all.

His fist slammed the button to begin the freezing process. Breathing heavily, he stood and watched the bounty as they froze into the carbonite cell. A blanket of silence covered the hull once the hissing of the freezing mechanisms came to a stop.

“How was your day?”

There it is. His favorite part after the hunt. Knowing you were there, safe within the hull, and that you wanted to be friendly with him–even after witnessing him freeze a person he tracked down for several hours.

“Nothing you want to hear about,” he replied, his voice tinged with tiredness. The helmet’s modulator most likely didn’t register the sleep in his voice. Truly, he didn’t think that you would want to hear about it. The Mandalorian was afraid that hearing about his hunts would put you on edge. You already extended a branch of friendliness to him twice a day. He didn’t want to give that up by talking about the bounties he tracks down.

“Try me.”

Those words.

Those words have only ever been spoken to him by enemies. It always caused annoyance to wash over him, head to toe. He’s a Mandalorian. Confident of his skills in combat. No matter the odds, Mando knew he would like them.

But when those words tumbled from your lips, it was different. When his enemies weren’t scared of him, it was annoying. When you weren’t scared of him, adoration filled his body. And not adoration in a patronizing way, but adoration as a form of respect.

It made him want you that much more.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Mando realized the crotch of his pants were tight. Nonchalantly, he clasped his hands together and rested them below his belt.

“Quarry tried to escape and they ran. Would have been back four hours ago,” the modulator gritted out. Again, he was conscious of how the modulator warped his voice. “Not too fun,” he added in an attempt to make the conversation more casual.

You were silent. He whispered a curse to himself under his helmet, one that he was certain wouldn’t be picked up by his modulator. Was his answer too much? Mando quickly became nervous and started to shift his weight from one foot to the other. The silence you left in the air made him a bit anxious.

The T shape of his visor peered over to you. You stood still in shock, reminiscent of the people that saw him in public. Before his thoughts could spiral too much, you replied, “Oh, I’m sorry.”

Dank farrik. He didn’t want you to feel like you had to comfort him. “You don’t have to be sorry,” his chest brushed against your shoulder as he swiftly hopped onto the first rung of the ladder up to the cockpit. “It’s my job.”

“That doesn’t mean it sucks any less,” you said. He smiled underneath his helmet at your consideration. Your eyes widened and your mouth opened and closed as you realized what you said, “sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that your job sucks.”

You weren’t wrong. Making his way through tough terrain, relying on a blinking red light on a piece of metal to guide him. Finding them was a task in itself, but dragging them back to the Crest was the other half of his job that sucked. Mando looked over his shoulder at you and replied matter-of-factly, “My job does suck.”

A giggle bubbled out from your chest. Every once in a while you would be reading a funny article on your Holopad and your laughs would echo through the hull of the Crest, making their way up into the cockpit. He needed more of them. His silver helmet shook slightly from side to side and he turned back to climb the ladder. But not before he also let out a small chuckle.

If you were comfortable enough to stand up to him, and laugh at his awful attempts at jokes–after he just hauled a bounty onto the ship–Mando realized he was safe.

Not only were you safe with him. He felt safe with you, in more ways than one.

Kriff it. You extended a friendly attitude towards him–a faceless warrior covered in impenetrable armor–then he could extend a friendly attitude towards you as well.

You asked him about this day, both in the mornings and the evenings. He learned about what you like and didn’t like. One item stood out to him. Caf. He always entered into a cloud of caf scent when he sauntered into the hull in the mornings. Mando was usually up before you, so he figured he would start making you a cup every morning. Confident enough in knowing which kinds of caf you preferred, he would stock up on caf every supply run.

The Mandalorian got closer to you, both physically and emotionally. Sometimes he would catch his hands landing on your waist or your lower back when he passed you on the ship. You’d shoot him a small smile in response. The distance he kept from you only decreased. He wanted to see your smile more and more.

One thing he didn’t see coming was your interest in Mando’a. He would mumble to himself in the ship while completing various tasks.

“What’s that word mean?” You’d occasionally ask. The Mandalorian would explain their meanings, sometimes struggling to translate the word to Basic.

He must have taught you at least two dozen words in Mando’a by now. Each time you asked you would give him your full attention.

At night, if he amplified the sound with his helmet enough, he could hear you practicing the words and recalling their meanings. It motivated him to share more words with you.

–

All of these experiences have led to this day. He’s been planning it for a month or two now.

He wants to ask you on a date. Nerves bubbled up from his stomach and throughout his body. They suddenly came to a halt.

Not now. First, he needs to collect information on a quarry.

Lost in his thoughts, he looked up and the market filled his vision with you in his peripheral. It wasn’t too busy, part of the reason why he was comfortable enough for you to shop on your own. He clarified the meet up point to you and watched as you took off. You had a bounce in your step, probably due to your excitement at shopping alone.

Once he meandered further into the market he began to collect information. This market was the bounty’s last location. Mando’s guess was that he either simply wanted to be in a small city, gambled their life savings away, or they paid for visit after visit with the workers at the brothel until they ran out of credits.

Only one way to find out. The gambling and brothels didn’t start up until later in the afternoon. To kill the time, and to possibly find the quarry, Mando wandered throughout the different sections of the market.

He asked a few vendors about the bounty. Mando described the man to many market sellers and only got a slight lead from one woman donned in patterned fabrics.

“I think he went that way,” the woman gestured with one of her hands towards an intersection, “Take the left path. I don’t know anything else beyond that.”

Mando dropped a few credits into her hand and gave her a polite nod, “Thank you.” He continued on and curved his gait to take the left path. From the signs and general merchandise displayed on each stall, he knew he was entering the clothing section of the market.

The helmet covering his head swiveled from left to right and right to left. No one matched the description of his quarry. Repeating his previous process, he made his way down the stall-lined alley and asked a couple different vendors.

Once the last vendor finished talking, and provided him with another lead, he dug his hand into his pocket and slid the credits on the stall’s counter towards them. Turning his back towards the vendor, his feet carried him two steps back into the market.

Then he saw you.

You stood hunched over a table of colorful bracelets. Tapping his fingers to the temple of his helmet, Mando zoomed in and the helmet displayed your face to him, deep in thought. Looking down, you were hovering your hands over a grid of various green bracelets.

You stopped on one. Mostly brown, almost too much to be in the green section, Mando thought. Nonetheless, the green and silver streaks peeked in and out of the thick threads of brown that made up the bracelet. Your fingers sorted through the sizes of the bracelet and selected one that looked close to your size.

Clutching it in one hand, the other hand searched for another of the same bracelet. It was larger than the previous size. You set the smaller bracelet down and tested the strings. The bracelet was adjustable, and you smiled at the discovery.

You transferred the bracelets onto the table of the stall and used one hand to dig into your pockets. Palm held out flat, Mando guessed that about twenty credits sat in your palm. He followed your gaze to the sign listing the prices.

PRICES

1 bracelet = 15 credits

2 = 30 credits

3 = 45 credits

4 = 60 credits

Shoulders falling, you dropped the credits back into your pocket and returned the bracelets to their original spot in the grid of green. Ground crunched beneath your shoes as you turned and continued wandering through the market.

Mando noted it was the third stall to the left of the bright green stall on the left side of the alley.

Not wanting you to realize he saw you, the Mandalorian walked in the opposite direction you took. After twenty minutes he noticed that the stalls became much more strange than the stalls in the clothing section of the market. Peering at the different products for sale, he saw a potions shop offering “super strength elixir” and a vendor selling various pet-like creatures. A few more vendors passed his peripheral vision as he continued his strides. They came to a stop once a building larger than the surrounding stalls came into view.

His helmet tilted upwards to read the sign displayed front and center on the large building: BROTHEL.

Tapping the side of his helmet, the time on the helmet’s display indicated that the brothel and gambling scenes had just begun. Mando tapped the temple of his helmet once again and the warm bodies within the building lit up, like he had x-ray vision. He counted a dozen in total. One body stood in the same spot inside near an entryway–the bouncer, Mando thought.

The bouncer was the individual that allowed access in and out of the building. If their memory was decent, they would be like a living guest book. Mando figured he could bribe them to reveal information, which was his usual plan with most of the beings he spoke with.

He sauntered over to the side of the building the bouncer was standing at. A singular light flickered over the side door, the sun was still out, so Mando was confused why it was on. The beskar helmet observed the side door.

Metal. Double deadbolts. Keypad on the left side. Small slit at eye level–neck level for the Mandalorian.

As soon as he crouched down to look near the slit, it slid open and revealed a thick pair of black eyebrows. Black eyes bore into the brow of Mando’s helmet, as the bouncer couldn’t seem to find his eyes.

“Do you have an appointment?” The bouncer asked. The voice behind the door was gruff, as if the words had to crawl from the depths of his throat.

“No,” Mando responded.

Black eyes blinked and then disappeared when the bouncer closed the metal slit.

Mando was taken aback and furrowed his brow. His fist pounded on the door. He just wanted this hunt to be over with. He wanted to get back to you.

The slit in the door revealed two black eyes once more.

“I have credits and will pay you if you give me information on a client your establishment may have served.” Mando’s modulator gritted out loudly. Straight and to the point. All business.

Eyes disappeared again, but were then accompanied with the sounds of the deadbolts unlocking. The metal door swung open to reveal a man dressed in all black with a silver name tag. Black hair matched the rest of his ensemble.

Still holding the door, the bouncer asked, “What’s the bounty look like?”

An eyebrow raised inside Mando’s helmet, but he figured the bouncer knew the drill by now. Even other bounty hunters knew that brothels were what many bounties visited. A gloved hand unbuttoned a pocket on his belt and retrieved a bounty puck. Clicking the side of it, the puck displayed the quarry.

The man stepped out of the doorway and onto the pavement, pulling the door closed behind him. His black eyes slightly squinted when his gaze trailed up and down the hologram.

“Ah yeah, I’ve seen this guy. He has a type, always goes for the blondes.”

“Does he have any upcoming appointments?” Mando questioned.

The bouncer sighed in thought and pulled a small notepad from his pocket. Mando mirrored the man’s motion and produced a pen and notepad from his pocket.

“The guy has an appointment in two days. He just asked to see a blonde. Figures.” The man shrugged and opened his notepad. Mando noticed it was a planner, and the bouncer flipped to the pages for the appointments two days from today.

“Which workers would take him as a client?” Mando’s modulator churned the words. His pen clicked as he readied himself to write.

The man donned in black made a fist with one hand and raised a finger with each name, “Ari. Taima. And Nomi. They would be in rooms one, five, or seven.”

Wow, Mando thought, this guy really knew the drill. He quickly finished up writing down the names and room numbers of each worker. The pen scratched feverishly against the cream colored paper, leaving behind black strokes to form letters and numbers. Notepad folding closed and the pen clicking, signifying the end of his notes, Mando returned the pen and paper to their place in his pocket. His opposing hand reached into a different pocket and produced a sizable amount of credits. Feeling generous, thankful that this hunt was going to be quick, he compensated the bouncer handsomely.

First task done. Second task on the horizon.

Creaking produced from the hinges of the metal door as the bouncer disappeared behind it once more. Flickering light gleamed off the beskar armor that protected the Mandalorian in combat. Although he wasn’t going into combat, because he wouldn’t be nervous if he was.

Mando trained most of his life with the greatest warriors in the galaxy. Combat flowed through his blood easily. It was a part of him.

But he was never trained on how to ask people out on dates.

On top of that, he was never trained on how to ask you out on a date.

He didn’t want to misread the situation. You could just be friendly. Who would want to date a man and not know what he looks like? Who would want to constantly live on a ship, without a permanent home?

Being Mando, he prepared for the worst. If you said no, he figured that you would be uncomfortable living with the man who asked you out on a date. Knowing that he’s attracted to you. He would fly wherever you wanted and give you some credits to get started. Kriff, he’d send credits for however long it takes for you to get on your feet. Then he’d leave you alone.

Admittedly, the Mandalorian would probably keep an eye on you to make sure you were safe. You just wouldn’t know he’s there.

But if you said yes.

Mando’s chest bloomed with anticipation. Firework-like tingles trailed up and down his limbs at the thought. He bit his lip within the confines of his helmet when he realized his pants had gotten tighter. Thankfully he was a Mandalorian, because heat washed over his face, half due to arousal and the other half in embarrassment.

The brown eyes underneath the helmet widened. If he wanted to do more with you and you agreed, he didn’t have protection.

Turning on his heel, cape whipping behind him, he made a quick pace back to the brothel.

Once he arrived at the gray building, the light at the side of the building having more of a purpose, Mando glided towards the same door as before. Bringing a fist up to the metal, he knocked three times.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Clink. Shhhkt.

“Do you sell condoms?” the modulator quickly blurted.

All business.

—

He arrived at the meet up point before you. Leaning against a nearby tree, Mando checked the time constantly, as if he was devoted to the action more than his Creed. If you were late, he always went looking.

Thankfully, you trudged up to the food stall on time with a hefty bag full of purchases. Fine, brown gravel grinded against the soles of Mando’s shoes as he made his way over to you. His gloved hand slipped the bag from your grasp and the pair of you began walking back to the Crest.

Both of you carried on with your normal post-supply run routines. You and Mando, but this time just Mando, piled the purchases from the market onto the hull’s floor. From there, the items could be sorted through and put in their respective places around the Crest.

As Mando finished unloading the large bag of purchases, he quickly dug around for the receipts. He knew how much you liked to review the shopping haul each time a supply run was completed. Mando enjoyed seeing the satisfaction wash over your face after you read over the receipts.

But this time was different. You froze once you got to the last receipt.

Mando’s helmet tilted in confusion. He took a few steps closer towards you, “What’s wrong? Did we forget something?”

You remained still while your eyes darted over the lines on the receipt. With your back turned to him, Mando found the opportunity to zoom in on the ink printed on the flimsy paper.

ITEMS PURCHASED (1)

CONDOM - 12 PACK

Oh. Fuck. FUCK.

He hasn’t even asked you on a date yet and now you probably already think he’s a perv. Nerves took over his body as you continued to stand still.

Your hand quickly crushed the receipts and threw them in the trash, “Nope! The last receipt didn’t look familiar but,” you trailed off slightly but recovered, “I remembered what I bought from the place.” A nervous laugh–obviously fake, Mando knew what your real one sounded like–escaped from your lips.

He fucked it up. You knew he was interested in you like that. And you didn’t feel the same. He hasn’t even asked you on the date yet. It’s all screwed up now.

But he also felt like he didn’t have enough evidence. What if you did like him but the idea of…needing to use the condoms…made you nervous.

Mando had to at least try. The least he had to do was ask you.

He cleared his throat and grabbed the bag off of the floor. You stood away from him, biting the inside of your cheek, nervously watching his movements.

“I’m going to go to the night market,” he informed you, “I have some business with a bounty I need to take care of.”

The bounty wouldn’t be captured until two days from now. In reality, he was really going to go and purchase snacks, takeout, and a pair of those bracelets you admired. It would have been suspicious if he met you back at the meet up point with bags full of snacks. The beskar man figured it would be best to hold off on buying them until later, and tell you he was getting a bounty, so you wouldn’t catch on.

He should’ve waited for this second trip to buy the condoms, he thought.

–

Mando left to, “Go to the night market,” he said. You saw the condom listed on the market receipts, you knew where he went tonight. What he’s going to do.

The brothels.

Yeah, sure, he’s paying a worker to give him a service. No feelings attached. But you didn’t want him to be with anyone else. Was Mando necessarily yours? No. Have you ever had sex with him? Also no.

That didn’t stop you from getting jealous.

And it wasn’t just jealousy. It was fear. What if he fell in love with one of them? Or what if he was going on dates? He could have a romantic interest you don’t even know about. Next thing you know, they’re going steady and you’re kicked off the ship. Or worse, you have to watch him love someone that isn’t you.

No more silence with him in the cockpit, watching as the hyperspace lights soar past the windshield. Feet tapping down the ladder as you both began your nighttime routines. He’d wait in the hull near the door of the fresher in just his helmet, undershirt, sleep pants, and socks. As he lifted off the wall from his leaning stance he’d ask you, “Are you done?” Holding his own hands in front of him, trying to seem relaxed, as if he was trying to look less intimidating. “Yeah,” you’d quickly respond, leaving the fresher and brushing past him. Sometimes his hand found your waist as he passed, or the small of your back. “Thank you,” he’d grunt gently as he closed the fresher door.

No more of Mando letting out a small, “Good night,” before lingering on your closing eyes and watching as your lips smiled, forming your response, “Good night.”

Falling asleep, you knew you’d wake up to him. He would be up before you on most days, leaving you a fresh cup of caf and your favorite ration pack (when he had them). The short chatter between you two, going over the logistics of the next hunt, telling stories from your past, or just thinking out loud to each other. Gone.

You would be banished from home.

The fear struck your chest. Heat searing through your ribcage and meeting your spine, the visions repeated over and over in your head. Tears fell like waterfalls from your eyes. Most streams connected underneath your chin and trailed down your neck. Your back met the hull’s wall as you sank down onto the floor. Deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Your head was heavy and numb.

Just breathe. You knew you weren’t going to die. Go through some heartbreak? Maybe, but you knew you’d be alive. It helped. Your breath slowed and the fear dissipated into the air around you. That didn’t stop the flow of tears down your cheeks as your eyes were fixed on the closed ramp.

–

Mando’s footsteps set a steady pace back to the market.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

He displayed a map of the marketplace as an overlay on the display of his helmet. Mando usually reserved this practice for combat to aid in determining exit strategies and the best plan of attack.

But now he was using it to calculate the most efficient route throughout the marketplace in order to see you again sooner.

Closing the overlay from the helmet’s display, he was met with the sight of the market. Long strings of lights decorated the different stalls. Many vendors took advantage of the dark and used different, bright combinations to reel in customers. Some lights were multicolored. Some flashing. Some huge and some small. He thought of the “ooh”s, and, “ahh”s that you would let out at the brilliant display.

The Mandalorian started in the food section of the market. Carefully examining which vendors carried your favorite snacks, he made purchase after purchase in quick succession. His helmet remained on a swivel, scanning the stalls from right to left and left to right.

A stall offering your favorite kind of takeout came into view.

Once Mando arrived at the stall he ordered two takeout meals. The vendor looked startled and confused as he ordered. They shakily accepted the credits for the two meals. Gazes drifted away from Mando and quickly returned as he stood waiting for the meals to be prepared. A bell rang and he retrieved two warm containers, placing them in his bag alongside the snacks.

One last stop. The bracelets.

Marching through the food district, he came upon an intersection at which the left path led him to the clothing district. Yet again, his helmet pivoted on his neck from one side to another.

The third stall to the left of the bright green stall on the left side of the alley.

Mando continued his steady pace until the bright green stall came into view. The brightness of the exterior paint was exaggerated by the warm light emitted by lanterns, which decorated the outside of the shop. He didn’t notice before but the store sold children’s clothes. Onesies. Small shoes. Tiny hats.

A small tunic. Small enough for a human child younger than one year old. The tunic reminded him of Grogu’s. Mando’s bare hands brushed against the material countless times as he cradled The Child in his arms.

The last time he spoke about Grogu was with you. You listened and offered support. He’s never had anyone do that for him.

His visor turned to his left. The soft fairy lights of the stall reflected off of the beskar helmet on his head. As if the beskar reflected a dark sky decorated with bright stars. Various fabrics hung from the side of the vendor’s stall to cover the old wooden planks. Little accessories were placed throughout the shop on different tables and displays.

Mando wasn’t focused on those items, he was focused on the long table of bracelets organized by color. His feet carried him to the green section. The helmet turned downwards to allow him to observe the selection.

Shit.

There were so many bracelets similar to the pair you held, just all in different combinations of green, silver, and brown. Was it the bracelet with the large green cord and the small silver and brown threads? Or the one with the large silver cord and green and brown threads? Or thick brown cord with streaks of green and silver? His hands hovered over the options, doing his best to recall the details from earlier in the day.

“It’s this one,” a woman’s voice said.

A bit startled, the Mandalorian looked up and found a woman standing on the other side of the table. She wore long robes with intricate patterns. Jewelry decorated every limb and part of her body, like jewels were dripping down from her skin from a storm of gemstones. Hair cascaded around her shoulders and down her back. Her smile was kind and her gaze met Mando at his eyebrow.

A good try, he thought.

“I’m sorry?” He replies. She couldn’t possibly know which bracelet he was trying to find.

“You were watching them earlier. From across the street,” she let out faint exhales as she let out a short laugh, “Maybe you should hide a little better next time.”

She reached out and picked two bracelets out of the display grid. “I remember the sizes too,” she said, “The person you watched held onto them for so long, they seemed pretty attached to them. I kept track of which bracelets they were just in case.” The robed woman shot him a friendly wink.

“In case of what?” Mando questioned. He was still in shock that the woman noticed him staring at you from across the street.

The woman glanced up at him like that was a dumb question, “In case you came back to get them, Mandalorian. This isn’t my first day on the job.”

It saved him the time and stress of trying to remember which one it was, so he shrugged and watched the woman’s jewelry dangle as she typed onto the register.

Beep. Beep. Beep beep. Ching.

“Okay sir, twenty credits please!” The woman extended her hand out and waited for Mando to place credits into her palm. She was met with the tilting of the black T shape on Mando’s beskar helmet.

“I thought the price was thirty,” he stated as he began to reach into his pockets to retrieve his credits.

The woman let out another small laugh, “Oh, I suppose I should have made the sign larger,” her decorated fingers pointed to a small sign above the one that displays the bracelet prices.

$10 OFF WHEN YOU BUY TWO OR MORE

Mando’s shoulders dip in realization that you could’ve bought the bracelets in the first place. A sigh escapes his modulator and he hands the credits over to the intricately robed vendor. The credits clink into her palm, and then into the register.

He waits silently for her to package them up in a small bag.

“They like you, you know,” the woman mentions, “No one like them would be deciding on which bracelets to buy for that long if they didn’t.” She paused as she was about to place the larger of the two into the small bag, “And look at the size of this one! It’s definitely for you.”

The Mandalorian nods, “I appreciate that,” he pauses before turning away, “let’s hope they do.”

–

Mando sets a faster pace back to the Crest than the one he took from the Crest to the market. He’s impatient, he can’t wait to walk up the ramp and see your body curled up, comfortable and safe, while you sleep soundly in your bed–if you can even call it that, he thought. You usually went to bed early when he went on hunts, otherwise you would be awake talking to him.

Slipping the bag from his shoulder, an ungloved hand rummaged through the contents searching for a small bag. His fingers found the familiar texture and he pulled it out from between the snacks and the takeout.

Mando slung the bag back over his shoulder, pulled the larger of the two bracelets out of the small bag, and slipped his hand through the ring of brown, silver, and green. Grabbing one of the ends with his fingers and pinning it to his palm, the other hand tightened the bracelet to a comfortable size around his wrist.

Once the small bag was returned to its place inside of the larger one, Mando peered around him to get a good look of his surroundings.

The sun was about to set, leaving only a sliver of light available to provide dim light to the landscape. Rocks littered the ground. Shadows from each one making them appear larger in the light of the impending dusk. He reached up and tapped a finger to the temple of his helmet. No living thing was around him.

He paused and set the bag on the ground. Doing one last scan of the area, one of his hands gripped the chin of his helmet and lifted the beskar from his head. The hand held the helmet at his side while he marveled at his wrist.

He caught a good patch of remaining light and watched as the green and silver threads gleamed against the thick brown ones. The bracelet was beautiful. Not only because of the design, but because you picked it out. And it was for him.

Becoming paranoid, the Mandalorian quickly slipped his helmet back onto his head. He waited for the seal of the helmet to engage before continuing back towards the Crest. This time, at an even faster pace.

–

You sat there until you heard heavy footsteps approaching from outside, the hydraulics of the ramp coming to life. Thinking fast, you stood up and made your way towards the fresher to start your nighttime routine.

“Why are you still awake?” Mando’s voice was confused. He stood in front at the top of the ramp with his helmet tilted, hands resting on his hips, but his shoulders were slumped, a bag slung around one. He looked…worried.

Mando was right. Usually when he went on hunts you went to bed early. Nowadays the only thing that kept you awake was him. Talking with him was how you spent most evenings on the Crest, your voices echoed and bounced back to each other in the hull.

He’s used to seeing you curled up on the sleeping pad covered in blankets. Soft breaths came from your body and radiated throughout the Crest. Just like a minute ago, his footsteps would come up the ramp with his bounty in tow. Soft grunts could be heard kitty-corner from your spot in the hull. A hiss of mechanisms as they froze the bounty in carbonite. Then a bit of silence.

The absence of the carbonite freezing stood out in your mind. No bounty, even when he said he was going to go and find one. Your eyes teared up slightly again as the realization truly set in. Mando really did go to the brothel.

You just wanted this night to be like any other night he came back to the Crest with a bounty.

After the bounty was frozen, heavy footsteps made their way across the floor of the hull. But they always stopped a few paces away from your bed, halting for a moment. Mando would complete his nightly routine. Setting the Crest’s coordinates for the next planet and showering in the fresher if he needed to–he usually did.

No matter what the events of his nightly routine were, it always ended with him standing in the doorway of his bunk–the sound of his footsteps always stopped partially inside.

“Good night, cyar'ika.”

You didn’t know what the Mando’a meant, since Mando never used that word around you, but you knew that the, “good night,” was all you needed to finally fall asleep.

You always waited up for him, only until reasonable hours of the night, of course, but he didn’t know it.

The sound of his footsteps in the present snapped you out of your hazy state. Crying really does a number on your brain.

“Just…couldn’t fall asleep,” you offered him a small smile as you pulled some products out of the tiny fresher cabinet. You wet your face and applied a small amount onto your fingertips, tapping them together for both hands to have the product. As you lifted your face and your hands to the mirror to begin washing your face, you were met with swollen lips, puffy eyes, and slight tear trails dried onto your face, despite the water you just splashed onto it. You froze.

There goes any of your chances to get away with how you spent your night. Staying up late staring at the Crest’s ramp. Waiting for Mando to come home. At least what you thought was home.

“What’s wrong?” Mando’s voice got clearer as he approached the fresher door. His strides long, footsteps clunking, as he removed his leather gloves and tucked the pair into his utility belt.

You went to turn away from him but he got there faster than you could. His ungloved hand rested on your shoulder, grip slow yet firm as he turned you to face him. He rubbed tiny circles onto your skin with his thumb once his eyes beneath the helmet noticed yours.

Your reflection on the silver beskar of his helmet stared back at you. Could you even get away with a lie at this point? What else would have made you cry? It’s not exactly like you could have said the truth either.

Oh yeah, I was sitting here having a panic attack as you participated in a perfectly normal service that is offered on this planet. Then I spiraled and thought about how you might not even want me to be here, that you’ll find another partner to be on this ship with you, and toss me away like none of this meant anything to you.

Mando’s hand waved in front of your face and it brought you back into the present moment. “Did someone come onto the ship while I was gone?” His voice gritted out from the helmet’s modulator.

“Maker, no,” you huffed and tried to look less suspicious, hoping he’ll just drop the topic.

“Then what is it?” He murmured, his modulator barely picking up his syllables. His wide shoulders took up most of the fresher’s door frame. The grip on your shoulder tightened slightly.

“It’s…I don’t think you’ll want to hear it.” You shrugged and repressed the heat of anxiety creeping down the back of your head. Turning to wash and dry your hands, you let out a sigh and started to walk towards the main open space of the hull. Your shoulder gently bumped him as you slid past his large frame in the doorway.

Suddenly your hips were being snapped backwards and dragged back towards the fresher. His damn finger was in your belt loop again.

He pulled you close to him, feeling the heat from his knuckle dig into your hip and spread throughout the rest of your body. His helmet leaned down to look you in the eye and tilted once again.

“Try me,” he paused. He brought his hand up to grip onto the valley where your neck meets your shoulder, slowly enough so you could back away if you so desired. His large palm and thick fingers were calloused and warm. The grip he had on you was still gentle, slightly squeezing. “You know you can tell me, right?”

You let a deep inhale permeate through your lungs. The words flowed through your individual cells. Thoughts of lying escaped your body with each breath. The debate inside your head would end. Whether he had those feelings for you or not.

“I got upset because you went to the brothel.” You told him. Lips trembling and eyes squinted open in an attempt to meet his gaze.

“The brothel?” He held both of your shoulders and brought his visor closer to your face. Thumbs rubbed your shoulders yet again. He sighed as your name left his lips and traveled through his helmet, “I didn’t go to a brothel tonight.” A titled T-shaped gaze met yours. You knew he was looking you in the eyes, and yours into his.

Brows furrowed, you sniffled slightly, “I-, I saw that condoms were on the market receipts.” The thumbs on your shoulders stopped, his chest didn’t rise and fall. He froze. You made Mando freeze.

“Look I know I’m just being dramatic and paying for that kind of thing is completely normal. I just,” you trailed off and thought of a quick replacement for your worry, “I was worried you would get hurt there.”

Mando’s shoulders fell and his helmet cocked to the side. “What?” He questioned. “How would I get hurt? None of the workers there had weapons.”

“How would you know that if you didn’t go?” You whispered to him. Your gaze left his and it dropped to the shape in the center of his chestplate. The crystal shape rose up and down slowly.

“I got information on a bounty there earlier,” he sounded like he was talking to a hurt animal. Gentle. Slow. Calm. “What's the actual reason you’re upset?”

Kriff it.

“I had a panic attack because I thought you went to the brothel. Maybe you would like the worker there more than you like me, I spiraled and thought about how you might not even want me to be here, that you’ll find another partner to be on this ship with you,” your chest heaved and as you listed off your previous thoughts of worry. Your hands shook as they landed on top of Mando’s, and you took a deep breath, eyes meeting his gaze like before, “and toss me away like none of this meant anything to you.”

Mando is quick. He flipped his hands to grab one of yours and tugged you into the hull. Kneeling, he opened a cloth bag, one from the market, and dug into it to search for something.

He actually went to the night market. You thought, now you look so clingy. So needy. He was just going to show you what he got to prove he went.

He turned and held his hand out. Sitting on top of the golden skin on his palm was a bracelet.

The bracelet from the market.

“I saw you looking at these, you looked for a long time and then put them down,” He stood up and set his gait to slow steps as he made his way over to you.

You laughed nervously, accompanied by a small sniffle, “Sorry yeah, I know I just should have been getting the stuff we needed. You didn’t have to go back and get it for-.” Mando raised a finger to halt your speech and continued what he was saying previously, “you put them down. You had two bracelets.”

“They had lots of them that I liked…I had two that were a tie and I just decided to get neither-.” Mando cut you off again.

“You were holding one bracelet consistently and then picked another in a bigger size,” you froze at his words. Dank farrik. Now he was going to think you’re super clingy.

“I wasn't completely sure who you wanted to wear the bracelet, but I took a guess.” He pulled his long sleeve past his elbow and revealed his bare forearm. Strong. Capable. Solid. And a matching bracelet was donned on his wrist.

Your cheeks radiated with heat as he took your wrist and put your bracelet on you. His warm fingertips brushed the soft skin of your wrist, sending chills throughout your body at the meticulous skin-on-skin contact.

Once the bracelet was secure around your wrist, Mando dipped his head and looked down at the floor. One of his hands gripped the underside of his helmet, and the other held onto your wrist. Your breath caught in your throat at the gesture. He quickly lifted his helmet to release his mouth, and he pressed three kisses on your wrist where the bracelet was. Mando’s lips were soft and timid, his hand caressing the skin on yours. Silver from his beskar helmet blocked your view, but Mando sealed his helmet and brought his eyes underneath the visor to look into yours.

“This means everything to me.”

Supply Run - Exchange (part three)

660 notes · View notes

kimingyuslover · 6 months

Text

JEONGHAN FIC RECS

to live again by @viastro (angst, fluff, humor, slowburn, time travel!au)

ミ☆ synopsis: it’s been years since your last milestone birthday; a time when everything still felt right in the world with youth and ambition. now that you’re older and times have changed, would you dare take a chance to save someone else in the past at the cost of your own future?

dear dream by @viastro (fluff, humor)

ミ☆ synopsis: jeonghan never would’ve imagined that he’d get to where he was today, especially with you and his friends by his side. with this next milestone in his life, you vowed to yourself to throw him the best birthday party ever. however, you weren’t even sure where to start; what did he even want to wish for this year?

between the fading moonlight by @viastro (angst, some fluff & humor)

ミ☆ synopsis: you never intended to find love. arranged to marry your childhood friend, there were one too many words left unsaid to the person you truly loved. if only you weren’t from two different worlds.

daddy dearest by @horangare (smut, dilf!jeonghan)

in which : meeting the father of your project partner and new friend didn’t go how you planned, but hey, you’re not complaining

tis the season by @horangare (smut, dilf!Jeonghan, pt. 2 from "daddy dearest")

in which : it’s time for christmas break, and iseul is asking you to buy some time with her father so she can finish her last minute shopping. you’ve been meaning to spend some one on one time with her dad, and now you finally can

my guardian demon sucks at his job by @shuaflix (smut, fluff, humor, angst, supernatural, demon!au)

❝ look, i accidentally summoned jeonghan from my statistics textbook the day before you met him at the olive garden. ❞

Pacman by @viastro (best friends / to strangers / to lovers!au, angst, fluff, some humor)

ミ☆ synopsis: being best friends, you and jeonghan know all there is to the disastrous effects of developing feelings for each other. that’s why you both make a sleep-deprived promise at 5 am to never fall in love with the other. however, jeonghan begins to question everything when he tasks himself with making you and the new transfer become a couple.

kiss later by @viastro (enemies to lovers!au, humor, fluff, slight spice)

ミ☆ synopsis: by you putting jeonghan into a chokehold over him taking your banana milk, you and him were assigned to clean the classroom for two hours after classes ended. it doesn’t help that jeonghan is your sworn enemy, now does it?

candle by @fantasyescapes17 (regency!au, fluff, tiny bit of angst?) pt. 2, pt. 3

You have always received the best of everything life has to offer: be it education, family, fortune or happiness. Mr. Yoon Jeonghan- one of the ton's renowned villains- cannot possibly bring you happiness of any kind, never mind wedded bliss. But can you evade Jeonghan's charms? Or will you find yourself falling victim to this clever rogue?

ah!love by @thepixelelf (parents!au, polyamory, doremi line as your childrens, husbands!95 line)

where you live with your three boys and your three boys, and damn, life is good (aka that one au on tumblr with the 95 line as your husbands and doremi line as your children)

#jeonghan smut #seventeen x reader #jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan #seventeen smut #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan angst #kml.recs

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danaewrites · 19 days

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Helmet Over Heels

part iii: harder to hide than i thought

din djarin x reader // read it on AO3

word count: 4.2k

summary: When your path literally collides with a beskar-covered Mandalorian one night, neither of you expect how that meeting will irreversibly change the trajectory of your lives.

You’re pulled into his powerful orbit, agreeing to take care of his son in exchange for adventure and freedom– when he’s not off hunting bounties and inadvertently saving villages in need, that is. It’s the perfect plan. Or it would be, if only your quiet crush on the man would stop growing into something more with every hour you spend together. There’s no way he’d ever feel the same, right?

And Din? Well, he’s been trying (and failing) to convince himself that he’s not completely helmet over heels for you since day one. But a Mandalorian can only repress his emotions for so long…

(This fic takes place sometime after Season 2. Din’s back on his bounty-hunting business with a Razor Crest that was never destroyed and an adorable green sidekick who won’t stop chewing on its wires.)

tags: strangers to friends to lovers, slow-ish burn, nicknames, touch-starved din djarin and fem!reader, canon-compliant through season 2 and then Jesus takes the wheel :P

author's notes:

the first part of this chapter is very much inspired by Space Song by Beach House. imagining the pretty lights of hyperspace instead of the slope fields i’m working on in calculus has kept me sane, so hopefully you beautiful readers have as much fun with that as i did!

read it all here: part i, part ii, part iii, part iv coming soon!

You slowly stirred to consciousness, face scrunching up at the heat of the sun on your face. Memories flowed back to you in disjointed flashes, slowly piecing together the setting of your current prone, relaxed state.

You’d spent the night mesmerized by the bright lights of hyperspace that lit up the darkness beyond the ship’s windows, fighting the sleep that threatened to lower your eyelids. You tried your best to remain quiet and allow Mando to pilot you through the galaxy in peace, but you couldn’t help the gasp that slipped out when the white beams momentarily faded into pastel shades of lilac and chartreuse. His helmet snapped sharply towards you at the sudden noise, tensed shoulders only relaxing once he saw the awed expression on your face.

“You haven’t seen this before?” He sounded surprised, and for a moment you felt embarrassment twist in your stomach at your lack of travel experience. He sighed, baritone turning low and thoughtful. “Come here.” He gestured for you to lean closer to him, directing your attention to a small cluster of dots on the navigation holoscreen.

“We’re passing through the Cresser Nebula. The original star died too recently for the dust to fully disperse,” he explained. “The extra material makes the hyperspace tunnel thinner for a moment– those colors are the new stars forming outside of it in the leftover gas.” He spoke with an unexpected patience, and you wondered whether he’d learned it from attempting to teach Grogu. In your experience, trying to keep the green baby’s focus for longer than a minute was a constant challenge.

You’d hung onto his careful speech, memorizing every detail as he continued his quiet tour of the cosmos. It was the first time you’d ever truly heard about the intricacies of space; your overwhelming focus on surviving Nath’s harsh environment generally took up any extra time you could’ve used to learn about the rest of the galaxy. You didn’t intend to let a single lesson of his go to waste, not when you were finally free to hear them.

You snuck a glance at the reflection of his silver helmet in the arched window, admiring how the lights shimmered across the beskar. You wondered what he was looking at beneath the metal mask: the pretty blur of hyperspace, his blinking console, or maybe the tiny lever where Grogu’s ball rested? There was just so much to watch, from the endlessly flickering radar screen to the breathtaking display of deep space beyond the glass paneling. You didn’t think you’d ever get sick of the view; you’d stay on his ship for the rest of your life if it meant you could enjoy the peace of hyperspace every night. Despite your pondering, his visor gave nothing away, and you forced yourself to pull your eyes away before he caught you staring.

The quiet rhythm of his steady, modulated breaths beside you only added to the calmness that settled into your fatigued bones. Eventually, your exhausted brain must have shuttled you away to dreamland somewhere in the trance of hyperspace. Maybe you had been more tired than you thought, because you certainly didn’t remember bringing a blanket this comfortable back to your seat. You were wrapped in something thick and warm, a soothing contrast to the cool leather beneath your thighs.

A tiny sigh found its way out of your mouth as you pressed your face into the soft fabric, shielding yourself from the daylight before you were forced to face reality once again. Stars, but it was lovely. The faint smell of woodsmoke and vetiver and something mechanical—blaster grease, maybe—enveloped you as you melted into the cloth, overwhelmingly reminded of days spent playing in your family’s workshop back on Odala. You’d forgotten so much of what life was back then, simple and joyful, but this tiny luxury of sensation brought back some of those precious memories.

A quiet inhalation echoed from above you and your eyes snapped open. You jolted up from the cool leather of the passenger seat to see Mando paused mid-step before you, helmet tilted towards where you had snuggled into the blanket. You looked down to see that the blanket was not a blanket at all; it was, in fact, his own deep grey cloak that you were clutching like it was your child. Your face flamed and you quickly relaxed your grip, awkwardly smoothing out the areas where your hands had wrinkled the charcoal fabric.

Had he given you the cloak? You didn’t think you had a habit of sleepwalking, and there was no way he’d have been unaware of you somehow snatching it in the night. Grogu was still wherever he’d been dropped off, so his shenanigans couldn’t have been involved. That left the most logical option– that Mando had been the one to settle the soft fabric against you in the darkness of the cockpit.

You felt your cheeks flush again, this time from acknowledgement of the unexpectedly thoughtful action. You knew that following the temptation of that warm feeling led to nothing but danger. You couldn’t risk messing up the best thing that’d happened to you since you escaped your ruined homeworld, but… it’d been so long since anyone tried to take care of you, even with a gesture that small. Your traitorous heart beat a little faster at the thought.

“I— have you been awake long?” You spoke sheepishly, hoping to distract him from the messy tangles in your hair and the redness left on your cheek from being pressed into the seat all night. You were sure you looked ridiculous, though the Mandalorian appeared perfectly polished as usual. The mud and soot from the previous day’s activities had been scrubbed from his armor, replaced with a subtle shine.

“No.” He dragged his glance away, moving past you to flip a series of switches above the pilot’s seat. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, feeling the Crest settle onto the ground with a muffled thunk. You opened your eyes to find that the sunlit clouds of the atmosphere had disappeared, in its place an arid desert with a bright metropolis of a city on the horizon. The planet’s name was Nevarro; according to the navscreen, it was located in the Outer Rim. You had landed near its titular city, an old trading stop and the location of the Bounty Guild’s main headquarters.

“The kid’s been staying with some old friends here. Sent them a comm that I’d be coming today,” Mando said as he straightened from his position crouched over the controls.

You nodded, tugging your shirt down from where it had risen up over your abdomen when you slept. A frown creased your forehead as you stared at the worn piece of fabric. You hadn’t had the chance to retrieve the rest of your minimal wardrobe before leaving Nath– the swarm of angry citizens around your rental pod had made sure of that. If you were to survive the wide range of galactic temperatures while traveling with Mando, you’d definitely need a few more outfits. You made a mental note to persuade him to make a market detour before leaving the city.

Mando opened the cockpit doors with a pressurized hiss, and you scrambled down the ladder after him. Your eyes wandered over the tidy hull of the ship, surprised at how neatly-kept it was now that you were seeing it in full light. It was bigger than you expected, too. There was enough space for a cramped but functional ‘fresher, tucked beside what appeared to be a bedroom. You caught a glimpse of a miniature hammock suspended across a corner of the small room. That must be where Grogu slept, if the little red sheet hanging off the edge was anything to go by. Beneath it, you noticed a set of dark, slightly-wrinkled blankets stretched across a lowered bed frame.

Your eyes widened slightly as you realized that Mando must have slept there sometime after you passed out. It was oddly intimate, seeing proof that even the armored bounty hunter had human needs. At least, you assumed he was human, from his shape and voice. You’d spent longer than you’d willingly admit imagining what he might look under the layered beskar, eventually coming to the conclusion that a pair of green ears would definitely not fit under the helmet. The father and son didn’t appear to share any physical characteristics, and you wondered what their story was. Hopefully, you’d find out some of that information while taking care of Grogu.

Your attention focused back on the rest of the hull, eyes tracing the supplies stacked neatly by the net-lined walls with evident curiosity. Mando gestured to a dark set of doors by the ship’s entrance. “That’s the carbonite freezer. I’d suggest you stay away from those buttons, unless you want to travel like a bounty,” he warned.

You eyed the area with trepidation and nodded. He seemed satisfied with your response, pressing another set of buttons until the boarding ramp lowered. “Behind the cockpit is the galley– it’s not much, but you’re welcome to use it.”

You nodded again, relieved that you wouldn’t have to subsist on flavorless ration packets while traveling. Maybe you’d even have the time to experiment with a few new dishes– a luxury not afforded to you during your hectic hours at the cantina. “What are Grogu’s favorite foods?”

“Anything that hops,” the Mandalorian grumbled, tone quickly filling with exasperation. “He’s not picky when he’s on the ship, but take him outside for a minute and the kid’ll have eaten all the frogs in a damn parsec.”

Your mouth quirked up as you imagined the little green child stuffing his face with whatever unfortunate amphibian dared to go near him. Like father, like son, you supposed. Those hunting skills had to be passed on somehow.

“And you?”

Mando paused his descent onto the ramp, clearly caught off guard by your question.

“What meals do you prefer?” You clarified, mind wandering to all of the dinners you’d saved for him back at the cantina. You could never quite determine which he liked best, since the bowls were always scraped clean no matter what you put in them. You weren’t sure whether that said more about your ability as a chef or the lack of actual food aboard the Crest. “I’m more of a fresh fruit and vegetables person myself, we never got much of those back on Nath,” you admitted.

He coughed, modulated voice rough with surprise. “I— whatever you make is fine.” You remained silent, fixing him with an expectant look. Men.

He hesitated for a moment, then spoke, “I liked the spicy orange stew.” At your blank look, he continued. “With the little… bread pockets?”

Your eyebrows raised at that, and you hummed thoughtfully as you remembered the dish he was talking about. “Oh– the napethsh curry!”

That had definitely been one of your finer culinary moments. Your boss had brought in packets of rich, aromatic spice powder that morning for the day’s special– a rare, delicious find. You’d carefully shaken them into a savoury pot of sandgrain with the last of the sweet tubers, alternating between stirring the dish and flipping fried bread puffs on the pan next to it. Your eyes had fluttered shut in pure appreciation when you’d finally tasted your handiwork, and if Mando’s reaction had been at all similar— well, you couldn’t blame him for wanting more.

“Spicy food, huh. I can work with that.” You beamed up at him, visions of fragrant curries dancing in your head as you followed him into the sandy landscape. You’d bet a fair amount of credits that a market on a desert planet like Nevarro would have no lack of spice vendors. If your haggling skills were up to par, Mando might get his wish granted faster than expected.

***

The Crest had landed within a reasonable distance of Nevarro, but when you finally reached the metropolis you felt as if you’d been walking for miles. It would take some time for you to get used to the feeling of intense heat on your skin instead of the bone-chilling Nathian winds.

All your discomfort, however, was quickly forgotten as you entered the city. Terracotta buildings lined the narrow, twisting streets; each structure featured no less than four oval windows and was topped with a dome that curved to a sharply pointed apex. Vibrantly dyed clothes fluttered in the desert wind, carefully draped across thin lines of rope that criss-crossed over the alleyways. You watched as a group of laughing children weaved between the booths of haggling vendors in their pursuit of a hovering disc. It was noisy and cramped and reminded you so much of home that your breath caught in your chest.

You didn’t notice that you’d stopped walking until Mando called your name, breaking the spell the warm environment had put on you. Your gaze snapped up to see the beskar-clad man paused several paces in front of you. Kriff. Had you really been that lost in thought?

“Sorry, I– got distracted,” you offered sheepishly, almost tripping over a loose cobblestone in an effort to catch up. “Where are we headed?”

“There’s a school here, where the old Guild headquarters used to be.” Your armored companion adjusted something on his helmet, scanning the area before he motioned for you to follow him down a less-crowded street. “Don’t know whether the kid likes the lessons or stealing his classmates’ lunches more,” he grumbled under his breath. You gave a small chuckle at that, remembering Grogu’s endless attempts at sneaking a treat from the bar whenever your back was turned.

You stayed close to Mando as he led the way through Nevarro’s crooked streets, gawking at the liveliness that seemed to infect the entire town. People smiled at each other as they passed, shouting multilingual greetings from across the busy pathways. It was so very different from Nath, where the most interaction you’d get in a week outside of your work was a couple of suspicious glares from the old women selling fish on the street corners. You’d felt so isolated there, but here your mood was buoyed by the warm spirit that lit up each face you passed with a genuine expression.

Mando stopped near the doorway of a round, sandy building on the edge of the town square. Despite the darkness of the clover-shaped entrance, you could still see the faint outlines of desks and hear the sound of excited children talking over each other. A tall man draped with a regal–looking cloak leaned against the school’s wall next to an imposing, muscular woman. His face brightened as Mando approached– something rather unusual, considering that most people were terrified that he’d been sent to capture them.

“Karga,” the beskar-clad man in front of you acknowledged with a dip of his helmet.

“Ah, that’s Magistrate Karga to you, Mando!” The dark-skinned man boomed jovially, stepping forward. “Things have changed since your last visit,” he continued. “Nevarro isn’t just a dusty pit stop anymore.” He spread his arm wide, gesturing to the bustling town square, and you privately agreed with his assessment.

Mando gave a short nod, then shifted the conversation to more important matters. “Where’s the kid?”

“He should be finishing school any moment now–” Karga was interrupted by your excited gasp.

“Hi, bug!”

You stepped out from the tall Mandalorian’s shadow, beaming down at the little brown bundle speed-waddling towards you. You crouched down to his height and opened your arms, laughing at his excited babbling. “Yeah, I missed you too.” You were completely sincere, despite the teasing tone of your voice. The kid’s antics brought a lightness to your life that you didn’t know you needed until he came along.

“Mando, you didn’t tell me you brought a friend!” Karga exclaimed, eyebrows raised high on his forehead. “And such a lovely one at that,” he continued, bending with a dramatic flourish of a bow. “Now you don’t have to call me Magistrate, just Greef will do,” he winked.

You were pretty sure Mando was rolling his eyes underneath his helmet, if his crossed arms were anything to go by, and you refrained from doing the same. You knew men like Karga back on Nath– charming and flirtatious, but only to the extent that it benefited their ambitions. You were more flattered by the thought that he’d deemed you important enough to impress than by his actual words.

Still, you gave him a good-natured smile and introduced yourself as you bent down to pick up Grogu. “Your city is beautiful, I’ve never seen anything like it,” you complimented the Magistrate, holding in a laugh at the way his chest puffed up.

“So how’d someone like you wind up with him?” The muscular woman beside him asked with blunt honesty, cocking her head towards the Mandalorian. She crossed her leather-bound arms, clearly interested in your response.

“Oh, I’m Grogu’s–” you paused, looking over at Mando as you tried to think of the right descriptor. You hadn’t exactly discussed job titles in the twelve hours you’d been employed by him, and you didn’t want to accidentally offend him by implying the wrong level of familiarity. And it wasn’t like you could just tell them you’d knocked his shiny butt into a snowbank, beginning a beautiful friendship of riding rainbow Mythosaurs into the sunset and exploding the occasional Tradoshan and/or cantina along the way. Although… the idea was rather tempting, if only to see how Mando would react.

“Caretaker,” the armored man finished for you, and you sent him a grateful look. The muscular woman next to him smirked, appraising you before extending her hand.

“Cara Dune. Ex-Rebel-shocktrooper, current Marshal of Nevarro,” she introduced herself with a wink. You instantly liked her, despite the intimidating aura she exuded. Her frankness appealed to you— it was a welcome reprieve from the icy insincerity Nath’s citizens wrapped their hearts in, tighter than their winter cloaks.

Karga rubbed his hands together eagerly. “Well now, Mando, we have some business to discuss. Marshal Dune will show your friend to the market, if you wouldn’t mind coming with me,” he spoke, gesturing to the tall, sloped capitol at the forefront of the plaza.

Mando remained where he stood, helmet tilting towards you. “Get her to the medcenter first. Have them take care of her face before anything else.” He instructed the Marshal. You winced as the unsightly gash across your cheekbone twinged, a reminder of why you were here in the first place.

“Hmm. What’s in it for me?” She cocked an eyebrow at the armored man. “I’m a busy woman these days, I can’t always be making detours…”

“Dune,” he warned, tone supremely unimpressed.

The dark-haired woman’s smug grin widened. “Yes, sir,” she spoke, raising her arm in a mockery of a salute. “Didn’t realize it was that serious.” She nudged your arm, giving you a knowing once-over as she walked past the beskar-plated man. “Alright, then. Medcenter it is.”

You turned to leave with her, but the cool press of beskar on your forearm paused you in your tracks. You angled your head up to meet Mando’s gaze– or at least, where you assumed his eyes were beneath the beskar– with a questioning look. He tilted his head toward the bustling streets and pressed a handful of credits into your palm.

“Get whatever you need. We won’t be stopping at another market for a few weeks,” he instructed, and you nodded gratefully as you tucked them into a secure pocket of your tunic.

Suddenly, Grogu cooed, grabbing for the remaining credits glistening at the top of the pouch that hung from Mando’s belt. His unexpected movement caused you to stumble forward, just barely catching yourself as he slipped out of your arms. You frantically tried to regain your clutch on the child before he could scamper away, but Mando had already beaten you to it, holding him firmly in place on the cobblestone road.

To your surprise, the armored man crouched down and fixed his son with a rather intimidating head tilt. “Hey. Don’t do that again,” he warned the green toddler, who blinked up at him with guileless eyes. “You’re going to behave for her,” he reminded Grogu sternly. “Or no coloring book.”

That did the trick. Grogu immediately turned to you, lower lip trembling and arms outstretched in repentance. You raised an eyebrow, but allowed him to climb back up into your embrace. Your mouth quirked to the side as you looked back up at Mando.

“You still have the coloring book?” You asked, eyes crinkled with surprise.

The Mandalorian scoffed. “It’s a miracle Karga was able to wrestle it from him before school.”

Your lips curved into a delighted smile, pleased that you’d judged the kid’s artistic interest correctly. You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Well, I’m excited to see what he’s made,” you grinned up at the beskar-covered man. Your gaze lingered on him for a moment, watching the desert sun flicker across his helmet as Grogu nestled into your arms.

“Hey! You coming or what?” Both of your heads snapped to where Cara was standing at the end of the road, hands on her hips and a curious look on her face. You stammered out a sheepish apology and raced over, but when the Marshal’s attention was diverted, you couldn’t resist looking back at the silhouette of the armored man. You gave him a tiny wave, holding in a giggle at the way Grogu mimicked your action.

The Mandalorian raised his gloved hand, subtly returning the gesture. You spun back to the street with a hidden smile.

***

As promised, Cara led you to the medcenter, where you waited for a nurse droid to patch your face up with a bacta kit. The building was unlike any you’d ever been in; light shone through stained–glass skylights onto the woven cushions where prospective patients rested, the scent of cinnamon and sanitizing solutions mixing to form an odd but not entirely unpleasant aroma in the air.

“So, what’s the deal with you and Mando?”

“What?” Your confused expression made her lean back on her cushion with a lighthearted scoff.

“Oh, come on. He doesn’t let just anybody stay around his kid. I had to fight off a damn Imperial invasion to get him to trust me,” she muttered, eyeing you. You blinked in surprise, then remembered that she’d been a Shocktrooper before Nevarro. Of course Mando would need someone with those terrifying skills in his line of work.

“So what’d you have to do? Rescue another alien child? Blow up a prison?”

“Something like that,” you muttered, letting Grogu toy with your fingers. The cantina wasn’t a prison, but explosives were definitely involved. You figured you were dancing on the right side of the truth.

Cara shook her head in mock exasperation. “Mandalorians. Always gotta be something with them.” She grinned, all teeth. “Good thing I like demolition.”

You shot her a wry grin, opening your mouth to ask her how she’d wound up on Nevarro. Unfortunately, the droid chose that moment to spray you straight in the eyes with aerosolized sanitizer. You yelped in pain, scrambling to direct its robotic arm to the right location before you wound up needing bacta for more than one spot on your face.

Once you’d finally gotten the droid under control and your treatment grudgingly paid for, you headed out to the market with directions from Cara– all previous questions forgotten in the stinging wake of the sanitizer. You’d parted with a promise to return with stories about your travels with Mando and the kid. Mostly, she wanted to know if there was any exciting conflict in the center of the galaxy that she could jump into. You had a feeling she wouldn’t stay as Nevarro’s Marshal for too long; you recognized the thirst for adventure that gleamed in her eyes all too well.

Your time in the market was far too short, even though you’d spent the better part of a day there. You’d happily wandered through the streets, wonder etched into the lines of your face at the sheer variety of wares hawked at every turn. You’d trained yourself to be frugal, determined to buy only the essentials and save the rest for your future travels, but here even the barest necessities were crafted with care.

Sweet, earthy jasmine soap that surrounded you with a peaceful aroma; impossibly soft textiles that shimmered enticingly in the sun; bittersweet fruit that melted into a soothing wave of liquid in your mouth. Nevarro was a land of plenty indeed, you mused as you pored over a vendor’s towering collection of cheese.

You returned to the school as the sun sunk beneath the horizon, a drowsy green child on one arm and a basket of supplies on the other. You said your goodbyes to Karga and left, Mando’s bounty belt now four pucks heavier. The two of you ambled back to the ship in peaceful silence, Grogu asleep in your arms and the soft glow of the night lanterns glimmering on curved beskar.

Unbeknownst to the bounty hunter, a tiny jar of dried nari peppers rested in your back pocket. It’d taken you ages to choose from the tables of spicy seasonings, but you finally decided on this one despite its exorbitant price. You planned to surprise him with it on some sort of special occasion– maybe a birthday, or a holiday. It had been too long since you’d had cause to celebrate anything, really, and you were determined to seize any little chance you could. Hm. Did either of your new roommates even have birthdays? You’d have to wrest that information out of Mando eventually. But for now, you were content to just walk next to him in the moonlight, city hubbub fading away into the quiet whisper of the sand.

taglist: @magpiencrow @that-kid143 @lilly-aliyah @itmustbegreattobecalledtheitgirl @aheadfullofsteverogers @dindjarinsmut @orcasoul @maellem @pigeonmama

comment if you'd like to be tagged for any of my works/fandoms in the future! :)

read on: part iv coming soon!

#baby yoda #friends to lovers #clan of two #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin angst #din djarin fic #best friends to lovers #fem reader #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian/reader #the mandalorian/you #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin fluff #slow burn

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pensat-i-fet · 1 year

Text

A bonding trip, Part 1 (Mason Mount x Reader)

*I wrote this little enemies to lovers story for a friend who’s a big Mason fan and she has allowed me to share it with all of you now. I hope you like it as much as she did ❤️*

Part 2

Word count: 2956

Masterlist

Wattpad

“We don’t want to let you go, but we have to. There isn’t that much money invested in the women’s team and this transfer will fund half a season. I’m so sorry”.

Hearing my coach's words, I feel like crying. Why is this happening to me? I don’t want to leave Arsenal. I love this team and always have. And I certainly don’t want to go to play for Chelsea.

But I also understand the team has to sell me. I just wish a miracle could happen to prevent this transfer.

“It’s ok. Thank you for everything. I’ll miss you all”, I tell him, genuinely meaning it.

“Well, we are still in the same city. Don’t be a stranger”.

“Turn to the left…perfect. Now one smiling”.

I have been doing press stuff for Chelsea for the last hour and I’m so done with it. But I still need to do more interviews and videos for social media.

“Oh, look who it is!”, I hear someone say so I turn to see them. “The new superstar!”

Of course, it’s Mason Mount. God, I hate him.

“Well, the team clearly needed one. It’s not as if you could fit in that category”.

“Always a pleasure to see you”, he says, flicking my nose and making me move back.

“What are you doing here? I’m busy”.

I then notice everyone has stopped working to look at our interaction.

“You have to do a photoshoot together”, says one of the media people.

“Why? It’s my presentation”.

Why does he have to be part of everything I do?

Mason and I have been “enemies” for a while. Both of us have always been the poster boy/girl for our clubs and national teams, which means we’ve had to spend a lot of time together in events for brands and whatnot.

And it was on our very first event together that I realized what a douche he was. He spent the whole time ignoring me and making the whole thing about himself. And to think I had a crush on him before that…my taste needed to improve and it thankfully did.

“It’s not for your presentation, silly”, he says, laughing at me. “It’s for a few campaigns and interviews that’ll come out in a couple of weeks”.

“Amazing”, I say, making the sarcasm very clear.

A few minutes later, I’m standing next to Mason posing for more photos.

“Blue looks good on you”, he whispers, making me frown.

“Shut up!”

And he does, shaking his head.

“So, is it nice to come to a team where you already have friends? It must be hard leaving Arsenal after so many years”, asks the journalist.

If only you knew how hard it is.

“Yes, absolutely. Some of the girls have played with me for the national team and were making sure I felt welcomed from the minute I stepped foot in Cobham. It’s really nice of them. But it will take a while to get used to picking the blue shirt instead of the red one”, I try to joke.

“And you have Mason too”, she says.

I look at Mason, who is staring at me with a big smile on his face. He’s loving this.

“Actually, he’s really annoying but thankfully I don’t play with him so I’ll be alright”.

The journalist thinks I’m joking and starts laughing. She’s joined by Mason, but I can tell how fake his laugh is.

By the time we are done with the interview, I’m desperate to just leave. Today has been way too long.

“Hey, wait”, I hear Mason say when I’m about to leave to get changed.

“What?”

“That, exactly that”.

“You make zero sense once again, Mount”.

“Why do you always have to be like this with me?”, he asks, as if he didn’t know. “You’re so nice to everyone but so rude to me. Even during an interview”.

“You were rude to me first”.

“Are you 5?”, he says, rolling his eyes.

Instead of answering, I just leave. It’s impossible to reason with someone like him.

“We are leaving on Monday at 8 am. Please be on time. The boys will hopefully be there by then so we can leave”, tells us Emma, after explaining the trip we’ll be doing alongside the men’s team.

“Why do we have to be on time but for them it’s hoping they are on time?”, I say. I don’t like double standards.

“Oh, they’ve actually been told we leave at 7. That’s why we’re hopeful they’ll be there by the real leaving time”.

Literal children. And…a bonding trip? Why do we behave like it’s summer camp? I just want to train.

“Stop frowning”, says Fran.

“Tell me you also find this trip ridiculous. And if it’s bonding we need to do, why are the men there?”

“I don’t know. It’s always done like this”, she shrugs. “Just don’t make it too obvious how much you hate Mount so you two aren’t paired together for literally every activity”.

“What?”

The look she gives me says it all. Of course, they’ve all noticed.

8.20 am on Monday and we’re all waiting for Mount and Havertz. What a surprise!

Well, actually Havertz being late is surprising. Aren’t Germans supposed to be very punctual? I guess it’s Mason’s bad influence.

“There they are”, I hear someone say and we all lift our eyes to see the car approaching.

I just shake my head and roll my eyes. They are still taking their time leaving the car and approaching our bus.

“Hurry up, Mount!”, I tell him when he finally makes it to the bus.

“Good morning to you too, beautiful”.

“It’d be good if I didn’t have to spend it with you”.

The coaches are coming closer to us and I see Mason smiling at me as if he has just listened to the little demon on his shoulder.

“You want to sit with me on the plane? I don’t know. I usually sit with Kai but since we’re supposed to be bonding…”.

“What are you talking…”.

“Oh, that sounds brilliant”, says Potter. Should I tell him I’m a Slytherin?

“No, he’s joking”, I say with a fake laugh. “You know our Mounty. He’s a comedian. But he wants to sit with his bestie, of course. I’ll sit with one of the girls”.

“No no no”, says Mason, putting his arm around my shoulder and making me feel very uncomfortable. “I’ll do anything to make the new star of the team feel at home”.

Will they send me back to Arsenal if I punch him?

“You are going to spend the whole camp fighting, aren’t you?”, asks Pernille when we’re on the bus. But she doesn’t look annoyed. She looks amused.

“I’ll ignore him and hope he ignores me too”.

“I think he likes you”, she says.

“Well, even if he did”, which he doesn’t, “...not interested”.

Thankfully, the conversation is interrupted by others players asking if we want to play Uno to kill some time. And so that’s what we do.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Mason sitting next to Kai and looking at something on their iPad. They keep on laughing every couple of seconds. God knows what childish thing they are watching.

“Emma, honestly. I rather sit with the girls”.

I’m trying really hard to avoid sitting with Mason for two whole hours, but nothing I say is convincing her.

“It’s a bonding trip. If someone needs to bond, it’s you two”.

I guess they all have really noticed what’s going on. Great.

“Hello, travel buddy”.

I close my eyes and sigh when I hear his voice.

“I want a coffee”, I say.

“No one is stopping you from having one”, answers Mason, confused.

“Get me a coffee. If you want to sit next to me, get me a coffee. And a toastie. And a muffin. And maybe a smoothie. Check if they have any with blueberries”.

“You’re serious”.

“I don’t joke when muffins are involved, Mount”, I say, giving him a 20-pound note. “Get yourself some sweeties too”.

I can see him staring at the money in his hand and then he just leaves and walks to the nearest Starbucks. I actually can’t believe he’s going to buy me food. I was just trying to make him uncomfortable so he would leave me alone.

“We’re going to board now. You coming?”

But I don’t know whether I should wait for Mason or not. I can’t believe I feel bad about leaving him behind.

“Here you go, bestie”, he says, passing me the cup of coffee and putting a bag on the floor next to me.

“Thanks”.

And because I don’t really know how I’m feeling right now but I do know he’s making me uncomfortable again, I just take the bag and start eating. Even though I’m not really hungry.

After taking a couple of bites of my toastie, I hear a weird noise. What was that?

And then I hear it again.

“Mount? Is that your stomach?”

“Eh…yeah. I didn’t have breakfast today”.

“Why didn’t you get something for you when you were at the coffee place?”

“I don’t know”, he shrugs.

“Here”, I tell him, cutting the toastie in half and giving him the bit I didn’t bite on.

“You don’t have to. It’s your breakfast”.

“I’m not even that hungry”.

“Then why did you make me buy all of that for you?”, he asks.

“I don’t know”, I say, shrugging and copying his expression from before, which makes him smile.

He takes the toastie and devours it in no time. He really was hungry.

So when I take the muffin, I do the same.

"You don't…".

"Just take it", I say, eating my half of the muffin quickly so I can get my Kindle out and do some reading.

Mason eats the muffin just as fast as he ate the toastie and starts to look at what I'm doing.

"What kind of iPad is that?", he asks, moving closer so he can read what's on my screen.

"It's not an iPad, it's a Kindle. You know? To read books".

"I don't read".

"I'm not surprised by that fact", I say under my breath.

"Maybe you can read to me so I fall asleep. You have such a soothing voice".

That makes me choke on the coffee I'm trying to finish.

"I have a what?"

My voice can be described by many adjectives but I don't think soothing is one most people will use.

"Yes", he says, feigning seriousness. "I love it. But I'm still wondering when it's that I like it better. When you call me an asshole or when you order me around?"

I have to turn around so he doesn't see my smile.

"I never called you an asshole", I say.

"You said it with your eyes".

"Oh yeah? Were my eyes soothing too?"

"No, they are just beautiful".

This…I don't know how to do this. Whatever this is.

"Well, I'll use them to read now".

And the conversation is over.

By the time we are about to land in Scotland, I've managed to make a lot of progress with my book. I love a good thriller.

And Mason…well, he did fall asleep. But didn't need me to read to him in order to do that.

Every time I turned to look to the left, I saw his head getting closer to my shoulder. Until it found its destination.

I couldn't help but look at him. He was definitely prettier when he was asleep. The less he talks, the better.

"Sir, we are going to land", tells him a flight attendant and that finally wakes him up.

"Oh, yes. Sorry".

It's then he notices me.

"Sorry".

"It's ok. At least you didn't drool".

He laughs and keeps staring at me. I'm not usually a fan of people doing that. And it's especially weirder when Mason does it. The way he looks at people is so…intense.

"You need to fasten your seatbelt", I say and turn to busy myself putting everything back in my bag.

When we reach the place we'll be staying at, I'm lost for words. It really is a camp.

"Is this a joke?", I ask, not being able to stop my shock.

"What? It's fun!", says Azpilicueta.

"I'm actually shocked that you primadonnas can stay in this type of place without throwing a tantrum. I love camping".

“You aren’t worried about Jason coming out of the woods to murder us all?”, laughs Fran.

“No, she’s got enough dealing with Mason. No need for a Jason”, jokes Kai, making everyone laugh.

Everyone but me. I just leave them there and go find my cabin. I’m tired and I want to get changed.

“Ignore them. They just love to always take the piss out of each other”, tells me Emma while she walks towards the cabin with me.

“Oh, I don’t care. I’ll just stay with the girls most of the time anyways, since Connor isn’t here”.

“Are you friends with him? I didn’t know”.

“I am. We actually met years ago and became quite close”.

I was actually hoping to be able to do a bit of catching up with him, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

“He’ll be here in a couple of days”.

“Really?”, I say, happy to know that. “I thought he was missing the whole camp because of his injury”.

“No, he’ll join you soon”.

Once we leave our cabins, I feel the need to explore right away. But the team is allowing some free time for everyone to settle here and no one wants to come with me. So I go by myself.

I don’t dare go inside the woods, since I’m not familiar with this place yet but I go around it, enjoying the stunning views. Wifi doesn’t seem to work well here, or at all, but the camera doesn’t need any Internet to take photos. So that’s what I do. The place is truly breathtaking.

While I’m focusing on getting the right angle for a photo, I notice something moving. Was that an animal? They didn’t tell us about dangerous animals being around but one can never be too sure.

But then the animal gets closer and I see it’s a very dangerous one. One called Mason Mount.

“Are you following me?”, I ask.

“You think too highly of yourself. Why would I follow you?”

“To murder me?”

“It’s should be me who worries”, he says, sitting next to me. “I don’t hate you. You hate me”.

“I don’t…hate you”.

“You do a pretty good hating me impersonation then”.

I sigh and shake my head. He just doesn’t get it.

“Mason. I just don’t like people like you. When we first met you were so arrogant. Every question we both got was answered by you. You ignored me completely”.

“I did?”, and when he turns to look at him, he seems genuinely confused.

“You don’t remember that day?”

“No, I do remember that day. But I didn’t ignore you. I was…intimidated by you”.

“I was intimidated by you”, I say, annoyed at the misunderstanding that took place.

“Then we are both stupid”.

“Yes, but you are more stupid than me”.

I get up to look at one of the trees in front of us. The leaves are so beautiful.

“Do you want me to take a picture of you?”, asks Mason.

“What?”

“With the tree. I can take pretty good photos you know”.

“Sure”.

I give him my phone and go back to the tree.

“Smile”, he says, and I do. “Look at you smiling at me. Miracles in Scotland!”

When we are walking back to the camp, I feel…strange. It’s nice to sort of have fixed things with Mason but it also confuses me. I’ve always felt conflicted by the mixed feelings I have whenever he is around.

And even though our attitude has definitely changed, we still are paired together for every single activity, which doesn’t help.

We are taught how to shoot an arrow and I end up pretending I don’t already know how to do it. Mason, of course, thinks he already knows how to because he is Mason Mount and he knows how to do everything. But instead of being snarky, I let him think that. And I let him “teach” me because I guess it’s quite nice to have him so close to me.

When it rains, we are taken inside to do a painting class. And we have to paint a portrait of our partner. My one is actually pretty decent but Mason’s is…it’s a portrait. Of me? I’m not sure. The face he did doesn’t look particularly human but maybe he’s an abstract artist.

What I do know is that by the time I go back to my cabin, I have smudges of paint all over my chin from the times he touched it to move my face and get a better look at it. Judging by the final result, it wasn’t very helpful. But I also let him do it because I guess it was quite nice to feel his fingers caressing my face.

On day 2, we are finally going to the woods. I cannot wait!

Mason is my partner, again. And the girls won’t stop joking during breakfast about how friendly we looked yesterday.

“Didn’t you want us to get on well? Well, I’m trying”.

“Yes”, says Fran, “you seem to be suffering a lot with the effort made”.

But I just ignore them and get ready for the day, making sure I have my camera with me. Today is going to be such a great day.

#mason mount #mason mount imagine #mason mount x reader #mason mount angst #mason mount one shot #mason mount fanfic #enemies to lovers #football imagine #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #footballer fluff #footballer angst #footballer one shot

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steviewashere · 4 months

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Return to Sender

Slaps you in the face with this chapter of my new fic, Return to Sender. Which I will update every Saturday, or at least attempt to. Different first meetings, strangers to friends to lovers to strangers (and then endgame). Hope you enjoy, I'll add tags when necessary.

Characters: Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove (A Warning in Itself), Eddie Munson (E.M.)

Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

General Audiences (May Change, but Will Not be Explicit)

Tags: Pre-Season 2, Rewriting Canon, Though Keeping to Main Canon Events (i.e. Steve getting roped into finding Dart, Billy smashing in Steve's face, The junkyard, etc.)

Expanded from This Post!

Next Part is Out! ------>

Enjoy <3

------- Steve picks up a little piece of paper that somebody shoved inside the grates of his locker door. It's folded, crumpled, creased and stained. He glances around. If the messenger just left this, they must still be around, right? At the bathrooms, nobody stands. Or at the narrow opening that floods into the main hall of Hawkins High. Or even peeking from under the stairwell. He runs his thumb over the paper. It's soft, most likely worn down from being held onto for so long. From being in somebody's pocket. Pressed up against the radiating warmth from their naked thigh. Possibly held between their fingers, twirling and folding in the gaps.

Does he open it? He's curious, he should. But what if it's another one of Tommy's pranks, which have increased tenfold since they stopped being friends. What if it's Carol giving him a fill-in on gossip he no longer wants a slice of? Or...What if it's Nancy apologizing? He shakes his head at that. What does she shave to apologize for, he questions himself. If anybody should say sorry, it would be me.

Basketball practice is in ten minutes. He's got his sweatbands on. Retied his sneakers. Changed into shorts and a particularly revealing muscle tank. Slathered on deodorant, lip balm, and baby powder to prevent chafing on his thighs. He's ready to go. Gotta go, he hastily thinks.

But...

The note. Somebody left it just for him.

Oh, but what if it's to tease him? To poke fun at the fact that he lost his girlfriend to somebody the whole school deems as his rival. To laugh at the new cut near his hairline, pink and puckered, laughing at his inability to fight back (parents teach their kids the damndest things). From that insufferable guy, Billy, that's barreled in through town from California and shoved him on the spikes of his King Steve crown. From that band girl with choppy strawberry blonde hair that's always too observant. From somebody else...somebody who wants to see him bend over, gasp for air that's too sharp and fleeting, and cry with nothing else to do.

He blearily thinks, Fuck it. He thinks, Men don't cry. Though the voice is his father's and they're almost the same in intonation, does it matter who's ridiculing him? He thinks, I just want to go home and rest.

It unfolds without him willing. The paper still soft, not yet agitating his palms. Gently torn around the edges. Blue pen glowing up at him. He takes a breath and reads.

"You seem haunted. But you're lovely. I hope you find peace soon, Steve. -E.M."

Steve's watch beeps at him. Time to shoot some hoops. And all the while he will think, Who the hell is E.M.?

---- He's at the three point line practicing his free throws. Back wet with sweat. Hair drooping over the sweatband around his forehead, the prickly ends threatening to stab his eyelids. The ball is in his grip just under the tip of his nose. He gives it another couple dribbles for luck. Poises to shoot.

Just as his arms flex, he goes tumbling down to the ground. A thump across the waxed gymnasium floor. His head misses, thankfully, but the rest of him is in a gigantic sore heap. Limbs splayed out around him. The basketball bouncing off somewhere to his right. And the impact scared him into shutting his eyes. Opening them, blearily and blinking fast, he realizes he's now nose to calf with that asshole, Billy Hargrove.

The guy—broad, tall, muscular with an ugly shaggy mullet and a permanent sneer to his lips—has been consistently knocking Steve down. Whether it be on the court, as it is right now. Out on the track in gym class. In the hallways, slamming Steve's left shoulder into the closed locker doors, enough he swears it dislocated at least a couple times. Even once in the parking lot; leaving a ding on the trunk of Steve's BMW. It's one of the nicer things he owns and it made him see red the way the metal was dented in. He'd tried to fight back against Billy, but that ended up with him and a blood nose. He's retired all efforts in making this guy leave him alone. Too pussy to be the first to throw a fist. Too smarmy to confront a teacher.

Steve groans and tries to sit up, but is promptly shoved back down by the bottom of one of Billy's sneakers. He hears from above, "Fucking stay out of my way, Harrington." And then his presence is gone. Footsteps, heavy and quick, making their way away from Steve's supine, sweaty, adrenaline leaking body.

He successfully sits up with the next groan and gasp from his lips. Rubs a firm hand on the small of his back. And decides, Fuck this. Rising from the ground is no ambitious feat. And choosing to barrel past his coach, give him the finger, slam the locker room door behind him, take a quick hot shower, and reclothe himself in a usual school outfit—none of that is ambitious either. It's freeing, in a way.

Sure, he loves basketball. Loves gym class. Loves working out in general. He's been on a basketball team every year since he was seven years old. Watches games from the middle cushion of his parent's three-seater sofa. Skims through Sports Illustrated every chance he gets. Has assisted with little league teams and the junior varsity tryouts annually since freshman year—always there to encourage and uplift nervous players, because he had been one once, so he gets it.

But, also, the amount of running up and down the basketball court. The amount of watching from his peripherals. Dodging and very nearly hiding away from other players. It all just reminds him of...Of that stupid flower-faced motherfucker that tumbled through the Byers' place. All the trouble for wanting to apologize. Now he's more scarred than a pink eraser some distracted kid uses in math class—puncture wounds in his brain where the images of blood, snarling saliva, and twirling some weaponized bat are permanently flashing. All the time. In his waking existence and in his sleep.

Playing on the sports teams also comes with expectations. Not from his peers. Or friends. Not even the coaches. But, rather, his parents. And damn it, if being bullied off the court is a way to try and get them off his back, then he'd fucking take being roped by his ankles and shook like a can of pop for his lunch money. He thinks, Fuck what they think. Fuck what the coach thinks. And fuck Billy Hargrove.

When he's finally out of the locker room and back at his everyday locker, he notices another little white paper making a minor appearance. It's a fresh piece. From the way it's bright in the light and sharp around the edges in his hands. Even the blue pen marks are smeared slightly, as if the person—E.M.—was in a rush to get away. To not be caught.

It reads now:

"I'll charge that dickwad more for his weed. It's fucking stupid that he thinks he rules the school now. Hargrove gave one of my friends a swirly last week. Tried to dump my lunch earlier today. Don't worry, Steve, I'll drain him for more than he's worth. -E.M."

His hand falls away, note still gripped, and slams against his thigh. Runs a hand down his damp face. And becomes dizzy with the implication of the last line; or at least, his interpretation.

Now, Steve's smoked before. Came home one time from the quarry smelling like it and knew what it was like to be caught by a ring on the face when he'd walked through his front doors. But...that had been weed that Tommy's cousin brought around during the summer they were in town. Steve isn't aware of anybody in Hawkins who would be dealing. And, if he's honest, marijuana isn't a top choice for unwinding. He prefers a beer or a cigarette, something that won't leave a trail of evidence behind.

So, now he's aware that somebody—a stranger—is watching him from a distance. Somebody who goes to school with him. Somebody who deals drugs, maybe even does them. And...their initials are E.M.

He almost wants to shout out for the person to make themself known. But the mystery behind it all is intriguing, to say the least. Like they're playing hard to get. And, Steve doesn't usually go after people that make anything—friendship or romantic relationships—hard on him, but the lack of info, the observance, the knowing somebody has their eyes on and out for him...

Well, that makes something stir in his gut.

And he doesn't know what that says about him. To be swooning, slightly, for somebody without a face. Somebody who could be a stalker if he thinks about it. They're protective, though. And that's not something Steve usually gains from somebody else.

It's frustrating, though, not knowing who this person is. Maybe if he can ask around, maybe get Billy to slip up about his smoking habits.

He wants to put a face to this mystery person.

Wants to...see if they're just as attractive as their instincts.

--------

Next Part is Out! ------>

#stranger things #steddie #fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #pre-season 2 #different first meeting #passing notes #canon divergence

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withlovewriting · 9 months

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All I Ever Knew, Only You 2: Party Tricks

Chapter Two.

Walking out into the dark, cutting out a different path, Lead by a beating heart, All the people of the town cast their eyes right to the ground, In matters of the heart, The night was all you had, You ran into the night from all you had, Found yourself a path up on the ground, You ran into the night; you can’t be found

Summary: Hawkins was your typical quaint, mid-western town where nothing ever happened. People were born here, lived their entire lives within the town limits and eventually died here, peacefully in their sleep. But one cold November evening in 1983 would change everything.

Despite a child with psychokinetic abilities, and ravenous monsters that lacked faces, stranger things had definitely happened in the small town in Indiana. One of them being your reluctant and slightly imposed friendship with Hawkins High’s own King Bee, Steve Harrington.

Characters: Steve Harrington x Non-descriptive F!Reader (eventual)

Words: 5,239

Chapter Warnings: Strong language, alcohol abuse, typical season 1 mean-girl Steve and his little gang of assholes, mentions of drowning, mentions of ReaderxJonathan romance, but it’s just Steve/his cronies being twats. Mention of The Little Mermaid, and i know the film wasn’t out then, but the original tale was, i just don’t know/care if she was ever referred to as Ariel. But she is in this soOoO. Mentions of Jonathan’s creepy photos.

Series Warnings: Strong language, mentions of underage drinking, mentions of drug use, canon-typical violence, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of possible mental health disorders, child abuse, slow burn, kinda enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, I like to call it ‘two idiots who begrudgingly befriend each other only to realize… ‘wait a damn minute…’, eventual sexual content, canon-typical time-period bullshit. 18+. Minors DNI.

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Chapter Two: Party Tricks.

If you were being honest, the last thing you wanted to do after finding a victim of suicide, was to go to some lame party, surrounded by people who weren’t even your friends. And had Barbara not of phoned you at 7pm, informing you that she would be picking you up in an hour, you would’ve buried yourself under your duvet and only re-emerged once the sun had risen once again.

But maybe Barb was right. This week had been crazy and everyone needed to take their minds off things. Plus, she really didn’t want to be the 5th wheel tonight.

So, unsure as to whether it was the need for distraction, or the guilt-trip from your friend, you pulled on a pair of jeans, along with a denim jacket and made your way outside to sit on the porch steps, the sound of a game show your mother was barely watching dulled by the intense and repetitive thoughts circling around your mind like a blocked drain, unable to be fully flushed away, waiting for Barb’s car.

“We can’t park in the driveway,” Nancy shook her head towards her friend, eyes connecting with yours as she pulled down the sun visor and uncapped her lipstick.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, the neighbors might see.”

Crossing your arms over your chest as the two continued to bicker in the front seats, you really regretted agreeing to come.

“I’m just gonna drop you off-”

“If Barb goes home, then I’m going too.” You added, refusing to be dragged into this stupid idea any further than you originally were. There was no way in Hell you were going to be the 5th wheel tonight.

“Just, calm down,” Nancy sighed, finishing the last touches to her lips and re-capping her lipstick, “Barb, come on. You promised that you’d go. You’re coming. We’re gonna have a great time-”

“He just wants to get in your pants,” Barb challenged back, annoyance pulling at her soft features.

But Nancy, apparently in sweet, blissful denial, refused to accept what her best friend was saying, the two continuing to argue as Nancy pulled off her knitted shirt, replacing it with a striped one, something much less prissy.

Eventually, the group exited the car and made the three block walk towards the large, white wood-paneled house.

Music could be heard from half way up the drive, and you were genuinely surprised to see it wasn’t filled with a ton of cars.

The huge, red doors opened quickly after Nancy had rang the bell, and there, in all of his loser glory, stood Steve Harrington.

“Welcome, ladies.”

Walking into the large entry way, your eyes traveled around the simplistic decor of the Harrington House, everything seeming a little too beige and bland for you. But then, it wasn’t like you had a monthly subscription to ‘Good Housekeeping’ or ‘Architectural Digest’ like you were certain Steve’s mother did.

“Surprised you even came,” Steve mentioned offhandedly as he closed the door behind you all.

Sending him a pointed glare, you shrugged off your jacket before shoving it into his chest, “I was invited.”

Grabbing a hold of Barb’s arm, you dragged her with you towards the direction of the blaring music, presuming that’s where the drinks were, too.

Steve grumbled, something about it being his house, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to stand around and argue with him. You already felt drained, and arguing with a moron would only worsen your already sour mood.

If asked, you would fervently deny it, but you genuinely hadn’t had the worst of times that evening. The music was at least half decent, and the beer was cold and, more importantly, free.

You’d spent the majority of your evening sitting with Barb outside, the quiet buzz you felt lulling you into believing you didn’t need your jacket as the beer trickled through your veins, warming you from the inside out.

Sure, the last people you’d want to spend any time with was Carol and Tommy — especially together — but they hadn’t been too bad. You could only assume Steve had prewarned them to at least ignore your presence, for Nancy’s sake. Or rather, the sake of him getting his dick wet. Either way, it was nice not to have their constant snark.

“This is a pretty lame party, Harrington. I’ve heard they’re normally ragers. Cops called and everything,” you smirked, exhaling a large cloud of smoke that you tried in vain to keep from wafting into Barb’s face.

Huffing only halfheartedly in irritation, Steve fiddled with his pocket knife, “and how many of those parties have you actually been invited to?”

“I’m totally surprised you didn’t bring that weirdo boyfriend of yours. That’s all we would’ve needed.”

Before you could respond, Tommy barked out a vulgar laugh, “He’s probably off looking for his next victim already. Who knows, Hawkins might have a serial killer on their hands.”

“Please,” Carol stressed, “I heard that Benny had something to do with it. Hence the… You know.”

Carol’s hand shaped into a gun, pretending the pull the trigger and letting her tongue lull out of her mouth slightly before cackling.

“Seriously, guys. Shut the hell up, alright? Benny was a decent guy, I doubt he had shit to do with it.” Steve sighed, flicking the penknife around in his hand before holding it outwards, “Now, who’s next?”

Wiggling his eyebrows at you as he held out the knife, Steve was clearly taunting you. Just because Nancy had shot gunned a beer, didn’t mean you had to.

“I don’t fall to peer pressure, Harrington. Sorry.”

A shrill laugh fell from Carol’s lips as she moved on Tommy’s lap, turning her attention towards you, “Yeah, Steve. I doubt she even knows how to do it.”

Squeezing your eyes closed, the irritation crawling its way under your skin and making you grit your teeth in hopes of stopping your next words from spilling out. Unfortunately, you never were very good at keeping your mouth shut, peer pressure be damned,

“Fine. How hard can it be?”

Standing up, you sent a hostile glance towards Steve when he sat up, putting out his own cigarette and seeming much too interested. Behind you, Carol’s lips twitched upwards maliciously, her eyes catching onto her boyfriends as she shook the can vigorously, waiting until you turned around to hand you it.

Steve stood quickly, handing you the knife as he pointed to the place you needed to cut, leaning toward you slightly.

Trying your best to ignore him, you dug the knife into the can, only for the liquid to fizz, squirting everywhere. Holding the can out, it sprayed Steve in an uncontrollable stream.

“Whoa, whoa! What the hell, man!”

Throwing the can away from you and onto the grass towards the surrounding woods, you looked down to your now soaked shirt, embarrassment creeping up your spine as the shrill laughter of Carol pierced your ears,

“What was it she said?” She cackled, hitting Tommy on the shoulder before mocking in a voice that you were certain sounded nothing like you, “How hard can it be? God, what a loser.”

Taking back the knife from you as the cool beer drenched his jumper, Steve’s cheeks were flushed in a dusty pink as he glowered at you, “C’mon, I’ll grab you a shirt or something-”

“Whoa there, buddy. That’s awful forward considering you’re girlfriend is right there.”

Steve’s cheeks felt like they were glowing, and he was sure they were hot to the touch, “Shut it, Hagan. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Noticing his furtive expression pointed in her direction, Nancy sent him a tight-lipped smile as Tommy moved Carol from his lap, swaggering towards you,

“We know man… We know. But hey, she’s already wet. May as well clean it off out here.”

Before you knew what the boy was doing, he’d shoved you harshly. You didn’t even realize you were in the pool until a scream almost pierced your eardrum, unaware that it was your own. The pool, despite being heated, was still too cool for an early November evening dip, and you felt your arms flailing as you broke back through the water.

Barb, quick to your rescue, stood, tugging her coat around her chilled body, “You’re an idiot, Tommy. She can’t swim.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve kicked off his shoes before jumping in after you, a pained groan when one of your thrashing arms caught him in the face. Grabbing the offending limb, he dragged you upwards, your feet no longer touching the floor of the pool. Barb grabbed your hand as Steve lifted you slightly, pushing you up over the lip of the pool’s edge.

Coughing and spluttering, you choked as the chlorine filled water burned your lungs after being forced to swallow it on an inhale. Barb held you tight, rubbing your back as you tried to catch your breath. Once you were able to fully inhale, your eyes glanced around the garden, moving between Carol and Tommy, who were acting as if your almost drowning was the funniest thing they’d ever seen, to Nancy’s concerned, wide eyes.

Hands still shaking, you pushed yourself up onto wobbly legs, flinching away from Barb’s worried hands as you stepped backwards, you back colliding with an equally soaked Steve.

Barb’s words of reassurance blended with Carol’s grating cackle, the sounds all becoming one as your chest felt tighter than ever before. Brushing the hair from your forehead, you pushed past, making your way as quickly back through the house, unbothered by the large drops of water you were currently leaving throughout the Harrington residence.

“Oh, c’mon, Ariel. It was just a joke.” Carol giggled, finding the new nickname much too funny. Tommy laughed along, despite the fact you knew damn well he’d be unable to recognize a Hans Christian Andersen book, even if he was hit across the face with one.

“Hey, wait up!” a worried voice called, stopping you in your tracks.

“I’m going home, Barb. If you wanna stay here with these assholes, be my guest.”

Barb’s wide eyes looked between you and the garden, unsure what to do, but unwilling to leave her best friend here alone, “I’m sorry. Will you be alright?”

Releasing an exasperated sigh, you suddenly felt much too tired for anyone’s pity, “I’ll be fine, Barb. Really, don’t worry about me. Just make sure she gets home safe, alright?”

Barb’s head turned toward Nancy once more, lips pressed together tightly as she watched the girl gently push her boyfriend away, refusing to allow the wet boy to touch her as she giggled. Watching the girl’s face fall slightly, you couldn’t help but return some of that pity, “I’m sorry too, Barb. See you tomorrow.”

Walking home, totally drenched in November wasn’t your smartest moment. Especially when you realized half-way home that you’d forgotten your jacket, not that the denim would do much to warm you anyway.

Arriving home, you spotted your mother in her usual spot, head hanging back as snores fell from her open mouth, cigarette still lit in her floppy hand. Gently plucking it from her fingers, you stubbed it out into the glass ashtray she kept on the coffee table, threw a blanket over her, knowing full well she was far too asleep to be able to wake, and headed to bed.

Fuck Tommy and Carol, fuck Steve Harrington, and fuck Hawkins, Indiana. The day you were able to escape this town couldn’t come quick enough.

The next morning, you tried to avoid everyone like the plague. You’d done well so far, managing to make it up to your lunch period before you heard a familiar voice,

“Hey, uh… Can we talk for a minute?”

Your head snapped towards Nancy, the girl sending you a feeble smile. Before you could palm her off with a phony excuse, she shifted her lunch tray to one hand, “I have your jacket.”

Brows furrowing, you didn’t really want to face the rest of the cold November winds without it, knowing you didn’t exactly have the money to buy a replacement.

Accepting the denim, you sent her a thankful nod, the tension already feeling a little less strained, “Fine. What is it?”

“Have you seen Barb at all today? I thought she was avoiding me, but she hasn’t been in any of our classes together.”

A petty, distasteful response was on the tip of your tongue as you recalled Barb’s forlorn expression before you left last night, but one look at Nancy’s slumped shoulders and solemn gaze was enough to make you force it back, swallowing it back down and feeling as it sluggishly snaked back down your throat, feeling like it was choking you the entire time.

“I haven’t seen her since last night.”

“Oh, okay.” Sending you a nod, Nancy’s lips formed a tight line, “I’m sorry about last night, by the way. You should come and sit with us.”

Your knuckles ached from how tightly you gripped your crumpled brown paper bag, the pathetic attempt at a last minute lunch most likely crushed under your grip, “Yeah, I think I’ll pass.”

“Please,” Nancy finally sent you a genuine — albeit, small — smile, eyes shining with hope. It seemed like she didn’t want to be stuck with Steve’s crony’s alone without Barb, either.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you couldn’t help the roll of your eyes and Nancy knew already that she’d somehow convinced you. You were sure your rather embarrassing experience last night would’ve been forgotten about by now. Especially since you’d already heard the rumors about Nancy and Steve before you’d even reached your locker this morning.

So you simply nodded, and followed the girl towards the table.

Nobody mentioned anything when you tentatively sat down, opting to remain close to Nancy as Carol babbled on about a mark on her ankle, Steve passing over his fruit cup to Tommy with a look of mild disgust on his face.

“Get it off the table, we’re eating here.”

She slapped away Tommy’s spoon as he went to poke her ankle, causing Nancy’s attention to turn toward the boy, “Hey Tommy. When you left, did you see Barb?”

Playing dumb, Tommy ignored all knowledge of the girl as Carol giggled along like his little lapdog.

“Come on, don’t be an ass, man. Did you…Did you see her leave last night or not?” Steve reiterated before pressing his lips together in exasperation.

Tommy watched Steve for a second, his dark eyes judging him from across the table but submitting none-the-less, “No, she was gone when we left.”

“Probably couldn’t stand listening to all that moaning,” Carol shoveled a forkful of corn and peas into her mouth as she began to loudly mock her friend and his girlfriend, moaning as Tommy joined in, banging obnoxiously on the table.

Whilst Steve looked mildly smug, Nancy looked absolutely mortified. You kept your mouth shut. The last thing you cared about was what any of these people were doing between the sheets. Especially if Barb had seemingly escaped the party completely unseen.

“Listen… I’m sure she’s fine. She’s probably just… She’s probably just like, skipping or something.”

“Barb doesn’t skip,” you sighed, mouth working faster than your brain. When the group turned to you, eyes slightly narrowed, you turned your focus onto Nancy, “When have you ever known Barb to not be included in the attendance assembly? She came in last year, even when she had the flu.”

Tommy scoffed under his breath, “What a loser.”

Sending him a sharp glare, you returned your focus towards the girl, “Have you called her Mom? Checked if she saw her before school?”

Shaking her head, Nancy was unable to keep her concern from her face.

“I’m surprised she didn’t leave with you after your little… Incident.”

“Turns out our dirty dog Harrington here tried getting two girls out of their shirts in one night,” Tommy smirked, ignoring the kick Steve sent him from under the table.

“Tell me,” Carol questioned, leaning on her forearms as she brought her face closer to yours across the table, her dry smile indicating nothing other than malice, “Does your weirdo boyfriend know about your late night dip in Harrington’s pool? Cause he’s been looking over here like a kicked puppy for the last minute.”

Four heads turned in the direction that Carol had nodded too, and sure as the night was long, Jonathan stood near the cafeteria entrance, his eyes gazing over the people at your table before he quickly darted off down the hallway.

Carol’s shrill cackle pulled your attention back to the table, resulting in you shoving your chair backwards, grabbing your bag and jacket from the floor and forgoing your barely eaten lunch.

“I’ll let you know if I hear anything,” you told Nancy, before turning your attention to the giggling brunette opposite you, “And Carol? You might wanna get that ankle checked out. Looks like it could be gangrene.”

If looks could kill, Carol Perkins would’ve buried you 6 foot under.

All but chasing him down the hallway, you called out for Jonathan, only slightly bemused when he didn’t stop the first time he heard your voice. Eventually, however, you caught up to him, the boy pulling at the frayed straps of his canvas bag.

“Hey, have you heard anything yet? About Will?”

Jonathan shook his head, downcast eyes looking anywhere but at you, “Uh, no. Hopper’s still got the volunteers out looking but… No news. Not yet, anyway.”

Crossing your hands over your chest, you couldn’t help the pitying look you sent him, “Hows your Mom doing?”

Joyce Byers, much like your own mother, didn’t exactly have a plethora of friends, and with an ex-husband like Lonnie Byers she probably didn’t have much of a support system outside of her teenage son. But whilst your mother was too busy spending her nights black-out drunk on the sofa or in the company of whatever man strolled into The Hideout that evening, Joyce Byers spent her evenings working long shifts at Melvald’s general store, making sure she had food on the table and a roof over her children’s heads.

Sure, she could be a little odd, but with your family history, who the hell were you to judge? She’d been kind to you, too, knowing your mother wasn’t about much. That warm meal didn’t only extend to her children.

“She’s… I don’t know. Everything just feels a little crazy right now.”

Nodding, you held on tightly to the strap of your own bag, “I can’t even imagine. If there’s anything I can do, just let me know, alright? I know this town can seem pretty… awful, but you’ve got people in your corner. You’ve just gotta look for them.”

The corner of Jonathan’s mouth pulled up slightly, a small but tender smile sent in your direction, “Do you need a ride home?”

“Uh, I have work at 4.”

“I can take you,” Jonathan nodded, stopping you before you could make a polite attempt at declining, not wanting him to go out of his way, “Really, it’s no problem. Meet you in the parking lot?”

After agreeing, you watched as Jonathan rushed towards the photography dark room, his white-knuckle grip still tight on his bag. Sighing, you made your way towards your English class.

English had come and gone, your attention elsewhere as you picked at your cuticles, mind whirling as the worst case scenarios for Barbara bounced around in your head. If Will was missing, could Barbara have found herself facing the same fate? Nothing of importance — good or bad — ever happened in Hawkins, yet within the span of a few days, two kids had disappeared from the face of the Earth.

Once the bell had rang, you packed up your bag quickly, not wanting to keep Jonathan waiting, and made your way toward the parking lot. Looking around in an attempt to spot Jonathan’s Ford Galaxie, you found your friend in a stand-off with none other than Steve Harrington.

Sure, Steve wasn’t one to physical bully, but he was most definitely an asshole and knew how to cut people down with little more than a look, or a snide comment. And considering his best friend was Tommy Hagan — a boy who most definitely found a sick sense of enjoyment from shoving other kids into lockers — you couldn’t help the heavy feeling that settled in your stomach, quickening your pace as you made your way towards the group.

Four against one? Popular kids never did like to play fair.

By the time you’d cut across the parking lot, barely managing to not get knocked over by kids who were also in a rush to leave, Tommy had taken Jonathan’s school bag, throwing it towards Steve who began to search through it, easily finding what he was looking for as he lent against Jonathan’s car.

“Ah, here we go.”

“Jonathan… What’s going on?”

“Your little friend here seems to have a real passion for photography, don’t you, Byers?”

Your brows pulled together, eyes glancing around the group before you released an exasperated sigh, “Whatever, just give him back his stuff, Harrington.”

“Mm, see, I think you might wanna see some of these. Because this? This is called stalking.”

Moving closer to Carol who was now thumbing through the prints, you peered at the black and white images, frown only deepening.

Okay, so it was weird that Jonathan seemed to be wandering in the woods last night, even weirder that he’d photographed Steve’s party from afar. But the photos were harmless.

One of Tommy pushing Carol into the pool as he leapt in himself, Nancy’s mouth wide in amusement as Steve watched on. Another of the four making their way into Steve’s house, all seemingly soaking from their late night swim. Images after you’d left, thankfully. Noting Barb wasn’t in any of the previous pictures, you could only assume she too had already left, or at least headed back inside.

As Carol continued scanning the photos, you noticed the only one that you seemed to be in. Soaking wet and eyes closed, you had a tight grip onto the front of Steve’s sweater, the boy’s arms around you in the pool as his hair stuck to his forehead, right before he hauled you up towards Barb, who was waiting by the side of the pool, hands already out.

When Nancy arrived only a few minutes after yourself, shit really hit the fan.

Apparently there had been a picture of her, much less innocent than the previous ones. Her almost bare back clear from a bedroom window — presumably Steve’s — as she pulled her top off, the band of her bra on show. You couldn’t hide the look of abhorrence that pulled at your features, eyes darting back toward an extremely guilty looking Jonathan, the boy’s shoulders high as his body caved in on itself slightly.

“See, you can tell that he knows it was wrong, but… Man, that’s the thing about perverts. It’s hard wired into them,” Steve fussed with Jonathan’s thin jacket, straightening his collar and brushing off his shoulder, “You know, they just can’t help themselves.”

Ripping the photograph that he held in his hand, Steve’s eyes didn’t dare move from Jonathan’s, the boys intimidating gaze remaining as he threw the paper into the air like confetti, “So, we’ll just have to take away his toy.”

Jonathan moved forward, begging for Steve to not destroy his camera — something he’d been saving up for so long for, working long hours all last year at the Hawk Theater — as Tommy pushed the boy backwards, allowing Steve to pull the camera out of Jonathan’s bag, “No, please. Not the camera…”

“Harrington, seriously,” your heart was beating erratically in your chest for a reason you couldn’t quite pin-point. You knew that against the two, Jonathan didn’t stand a chance. You also knew how much that camera meant to him. But the picture of Nancy? Well, you couldn’t justify it, and you wouldn’t defend it.

“Tommy, Tommy… It’s okay,” Steve — camera in hand — called the boy off, as if he were his own personal guard dog, before holding the camera out to Jonathan, “here you go, man.”

Part of you knew it was a trick. Lulling Jonathan into a false sense of security before ripping the rug right out from under his feet. And an ever smaller part of you couldn’t deny that Jonathan deserved it. But the pang of anxiety that settled heavily in your heart hoped that for the first time in his life, Steve might actually have a conscious.

How wrong you were.

The camera fell to the ground, shattering upon impact as the lens broke into a million tiny pieces across the parking lot. Everyone remained silent for a moment, all eyes on Jonathan and Steve as the tension only seemed to build, “Come on, let’s go. The games about to start.”

The group followed Steve, as always, back toward the school. Chest heaving, you couldn’t keep the words to yourself, “You’re an asshole, Harrington.”

The boy didn’t even bother to look back, and instead you heard the incessant snickering of Tommy as he wrapped an arm around Carol, who’s best friend, Nicole, seemed to be enjoying every moment.

Nancy, however, remained. As still as a mouse, blue eyes focused on Jonathan as he crouched down in an attempt to collect the tiny shards of glass.

Spotting a torn picture of Barb sitting alone outside by the Harrington’s pool, she quickly collected the remaining pieces before her eyes met yours, eyebrows lifted slightly in confusion until Steve called for her.

The remaining evidence of Jonathan’s late night adventure fluttered around your feet as the wind picked up, catching the boy’s attention as he turned toward you, his dark, doleful eyes peering up at you.

Before he could say anything, despite his mouth opening and closing a few times, you shook your head, which seemed enough to silence him, “What the hell were you doing, Byers?”

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Jonathan picked as much of the camera up as he could, placing it in his bag as you awaited his response, but the jittery boy remained silent.

“Jonathan.”

“What the hell were you doing? I didn’t think you were friends with those assholes.”

Scoffing, you crossed your arms over your chest, “I’m not-”

“Then why were you at Harrington’s house?”

Tensing your shoulders as your back stood ramrod straight, you sent him a dark glare as you clenched your jaw, “Not that it’s any of your business, but Barb asked me to go so she wouldn’t be a third wheel. And don’t try and spin this around on me.”

You pointed to the ripped picture by your converse, Steve’s arms gripping you as you held onto his chest as if your life depended on it, “That was innocent. It was a stupid party that I didn’t even want to go to. What you did, Jonathan? That’s beyond messed up-”

“I know… I know, and I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know.”

Refusing to let him finish, you shook your head and barged past him, causing him to spin in your direction, “Where are you going? I said I’d drop you to work-”

“I can get myself there, thank you.”

You were barely out of the parking lot when Nancy Wheeler’s call of your name caught your attention. Without a ride, you’d never have time to make it home and back to the arcade before your shift, and instead planned on just heading towards work and hoping they had some spare uniform shirts lying around.

Nancy wheeler, however, had different plans. So half an hour later, you’d used to school phone to call in sick, and followed Nancy along the same road Barb had driven you down last night.

Peering into the car, Nancy couldn’t find any sign that Barb had actually returned to it.

“I don’t get why she’d just leave, you know?” When the girl remained silent, you continued on, your nerves getting the best of you, “I mean, she flat out told me she wouldn’t leave you there. So why she’d just up and leave, especially without her car, makes no sense-”

“I told her to go.”

Nancy’s words knocked the air straight from your lungs, causing you to turn around and watch her with a raised brow, “I’m sorry, what?”

Releasing a frustrated sigh — more-so at herself than at you — Nancy tugged her bag closer to her body, “I told her to go, and that I’d just see her in school today.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you inhaled a sharp breath, “You’re telling me that you sent your best friend away — the same person you practically dragged to the party last night despite her not wanting to go — just so you could screw Steve Harrington?”

Scrunching her nose up slightly at your brashness, Nancy’s cheeks burst into a dusty pink, “I didn’t… Obviously I thought she’d drive home safe. I didn’t think-”

“No, clearly you didn’t.” Biting the inside of your cheek, you tried to take a few deep breathes, taking note of Nancy’s slumped shoulders as she wrapped her arms over her abdomen.

“Look, she didn’t leave here in her car. So maybe she just got lost in the woods behind Steve’s. C’mon.”

Nancy followed you silently for a moment, her thoughts spinning around her head like the teacups at the Roane County fairground. As you both silently began your walk towards the Harrington’s residence, Nancy could only hope that maybe Barb had just panicked and had to rough it out in the woods for one night.

You followed her as she pushed open the large wooden fence — unlocked like almost everyone else’ in Hawkins — and made your way into the back garden of Steve’s house. Last night felt so far away.

Passing by the pool, you couldn’t help but force down a lump in your throat, the uneasy feeling that settled over your body forming a pit in your stomach that was endlessly filled with apprehension.

It was only last night that you had been pushed in, lungs burning as you flailed for safety, not quite able to make it on your own.

A rustling in the woods just beyond Steve’s garden caught your attention, sharing a look with Nancy before you both began to wander a little further in. Nancy called out Barb’s name once more, before something caught her attention, a large, dark figure running past, causing her to trip and consequently, take you down too.

“Nance, what the hell-”

Before you could fully question the girl, she’d hauled herself up and grabbed your arm, forcing you to run after her as she darted back towards Steve’s house.

Once you were out onto the safety of the road, both yourself and Nancy panting, you turned to her, eyes widened with both shock and confusion, “What the hell just happened?”

Nancy didn’t answer right away, her mouth open and eyes wide as she stared into the trees, but when she did finally respond, you heard the crack in her voice as clear as day, “I need to go home. I need to… I need to speak to my Mom.”

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic

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wangxianficfinder · 1 year

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In the mood for...

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1. I'm in the mood for a fic where WWX respects and accepts LWJ being vegetarian/pescatarian/vegan instead of it just being assumed that LWJ should adjust to match his eating preferences.

Vendors' Row by Full_Metal_Ox (G, <1k, wangxian, fluff, slice of life, food porn) a vignette of WWX and LWJ eating noodles at a street fair. “Experiences needn't be identical to be shared.”

Alliance of the Traveling Pants by JustAWanderingBabbit (G, 112k, 3Zun, WangXian, WIP, Canon Divergence) in Chapter 30, a fugitive LWJ, undercover in an inn full of Wen soldiers, is being pressured to partake of wine and beef; the waiter (a disguised WWX) sneakily serves him a portion of vegan mock-meat and a winejar of water.

flavour by livsn (G, 4k, wangxian, LWJ & LSZ & WWX, food, established relationship) WWX studies Cloud Recesses cookery to please LWJ. The focus is more on seasoning comfort zones than vegetarianism, but the payoff is LWJ’s favorite tofu soup.

leave all your love and your longing behind by ScarlettStorm (E, 143k, WangXian, Modern AU, no magic, Meet-Ugly, Panic Attacks, autistic lwj, neurodivergent wwx, the neighborhood asshole dog, if you’ve met one then you know, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Minor Angst, major shenanigans, Happy Ending, for everyone including the asshole dog, Eventual Smut, switch rights, Sex Toys, horny yearning, Masturbation) it’s a modern AU (not sure if the requestor wants canon?), and it has wwx trying to find things that lwj will enjoy eating and drinking; it’s a small part of the main plot, but it’s a nice way wwx goes out of his way to be accepting of lwj throughout the story

请兔子吃晚饭; treating a bunny to dinner by yiqie (T, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU)

Were we the last to know (that we're dating)? by JC_Cathrine (G, 8k, wangxian, modern, college/university au, insecure LWJ, anxious LWJ, depressed WWX, implied/referenced self-harm, hurt/comfort, happy ending, LWJ centric, demisexual LWJ, pining, getting together, panic attacks)

dead doves: please eat by westiec (T, 1k, Literal Dead Dove, Qíshān Wēn Indoctrination, Butchering, Food as a Metaphor for Love, But Also As Literal Food Because They're Hungry, POV NHS, Character Study, [Podfic] dead doves: please eat by fensandpodfic (fensandmarshes)) bonus vegetarian respect from Nie Huaisang in Dead Doves: Please Eat, by westiec (NHS, reluctantly using his bird-catching skills to help feed his friends in the Wen Indoctrination Camp, considerately finds eggs for LWJ.)

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2. itmf some transmigration fics

It can be original characters or canon characters dying and transmigrate to another person

Fix it sort of

Write It on My Neck by diamondbruise (E, 23k, wangxian, ABO, transmigration, alpha LWJ, omega WWX, fake marriage, falling in love, misunderstandings, jealousy, happy ending, smut)

take me back to a time by DizziDreams (T, 143k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Modern with Magic, Time Travel, Sharing a Bed, Fish out of Water, Man Out of Time, Angst with a Happy Ending, Student!WWX, Time-Traveling Wizard!LWJ, Slow Burn, reference to abuse, Canonical Character Death, Canonical Abuse, Canon!LWJ, Mutual Pining, Chronic Illness, Not A Fix-It, Transmigration, America)

i told you when i came i was a stranger by Caramelized (M, 50k, WangXian, LXC / OFC, Isekai, Transmigration, Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Amateur cartography, Butterfly Effect, Sunshot Campaign, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Minor WangXian, No Golden Core Transfer, Dimension Travel, Politics, Self-Insert, Foreknowledge, Angst with a Happy Ending)

Transverse by Kytrin, Mslead (E, 192k, WangXian, ChengSang, ZhuiLing, ZhenYi, Dimension Travel, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Enemies to Lovers, Transmigration, Past Lives, Canon-Typical Death, Don't worry - he gets better)

Wait a minute! by tidemakers (T, 45k, WangXian, World Travel, Dimension Travel, Canon Divergence, Transmigration, Crack Treated Seriously, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff and Angst, Attempt at Humor, Isekai)

The Teenage Girl's Self-Saving System by mercyandmagic (T, 108k, WLJ/WC, WLJ/NMJ, wangxian, LXC/JGY, JYL/JZX, JC/WQ, OC main character, transmigration, everyone’s least fave characer gets character development!)

The Villain's Guide to Becoming a Plot Irrelevant Character by glowingreverie (M, 184k, WIP, NieYao, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Abuse, Canon Divergence, Prostitution, Blood, zuanli, WangXian, Physical Abuse, xueyu, XiCheng, NingSang)

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3. itmf smut wangxian where top lwj keeps fucking wwx despite becoming soft. im sure ive read something like this once

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4. hello! i'm looking for a fic where jiang cheng's character is fleshed out? romance optional. also, any fics where wangxian are not virgins!

Lynchpin by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 103k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Fix-It, Lynchpin [PODFIC] by Opalsong, [PODFIC] Lynchpin by Gwogobo) uuuhhhh I /suppose/ Lynchpin????? You can't really get more fleshed out than a jc pov fic.

Moments of Revelation by meyari (T, 133k, ChengSang, WangXian, XiYao, Canon Divergence, Temporary Character Death, Time Travel Fix-It, Self-Sacrifice, Torture, Chronic Pain, Chronic anxiety, Grief/Mourning, PTSD, Chronic Mental Health Issues, Families of Choice, Original Supporting characters, Unreliable Narrator(s), Demonic Possession) is JC-focused

everything you ever hoped for by andreanna (E, 64k, JC & WWX, ChengSang, XiCheng, Character Study, Implied JC /Others, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pining, Minor canon divergence, Background Relationships, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Feels, Requited Love, Suicidal Thoughts, Panic Attacks, Illustrations) focuses on the infamous list of requirements via a series of loves

Blur the Edges of Memory by geethr75 (T, 53k, WangXian, XuanLi, NieYao, Poly Junior Quartet, Post canon, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, jc friendly, good uncle jc, Good friend JC, no golden core transfer, Sect Leader WWX, Hopeful Ending, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, soft JC, Supportive JC, Supportive Junior quartet, Heavy Angst, Fluff and Angst, Mentions of canon typical domestic abuse, Smart OYZZ, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, JC-centric) is a nice JC time-travel fic

With Absolute Splendor by Lise (T, 43k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Wedding planning, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Complicated Relationships, Angst with a happy ending, [Podfic] With Absolute Splendor by kisahawklin, [PODFIC] With Absolute Splendor by Gwogobo) really anything by Lise that has Jiang Cheng as a character, but I'll especially rec this one as really digging into his psyche

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5. Hello Lovely Mod's! For the I'm In The Mood For - I was looking for some recs on where WWX comes back but finds that LWJ has died (in whatever fashion). LWJ can come back at any point if that's the story, but I'm looking for some stories where WWX returns and LWJ isn't waiting.

Thanks for all that you guys do!!! You keep my To Read section very full. @ommited-miscellaneously

The Second Siege of Cloud Recesses by Cerusee (G, 4k, wangxian, WN & WWX, WWX & LSZ, LXC & WWX, major character death)

Your Light by StellaMozzarella (T, 18k, wangxian, LSZ & WWX, major character death, sorta temporary character death) and i think there was a recent itmf about fics where lan zhan is dead too

Over the Rotted Bridge by vailkagami (T, 314k, WangXian, Temporary Character Death, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, LWJ dies, Wei Wuxian doesn’t die, neither do (most of) the wens, JYL also lives, Original Character(s), outside pov, YLLZ WWX, Canon Divergence, CQL Verse, Illustrated, Grief/Mourning, Non-Consensual Resurrection, mute LWJ, Hurt LWJ, Slow Burn, canonical death of a child (mentioned), Survivor Guilt, PTSD)

The Second Siege of Cloud Recesses by Cerusee (G, 4k, WangXian)

the fourth request on this itmf post has a few

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6. Hello!! Itmf fics where the cultivators also have elemental control, kind of like in Avatar the Last Airbender? I can picture the Lan clan wielding ice, the Nie clan wielding stone, etc. It would be interesting to see how the characters slot element bending into their sword forms or night hunting methods. Thanks for any fic suggestions you can give!

Avatar: The Untamed Waterbender by KouriArashi (T, 181k, wangxian, JC/WQ, JC & WWX & JYL, Avatar fusion, action/adventure, families of choice, light angst, developing relationship, hurt/comfort, pining) Avatar! WWX, Waterbender JC, Airbending Lans, Firebending Wens (the author notes that “Wen Qing will be the Zuko”), Earthbending Nie and Jin.

this world (what I make of it) by glitteringmoonlight (T, 22k, WIP, LSZ & WWX & LWJ, WangXian, Avatar & Benders Setting, Avatar (TV) Fusion, Avatar LSZ, Light Angst, aftermath of a war, wangxian occurs but through lan sizhui's pov, and only after a while, Teacher WWX) Avatar (and Last Firebender) LSZ, mentored by Waterbending healer WWX; post-Sunshot, with the Firebending Wens eradicated and vilified in memory.)

Book One: Water by Dont_do_sadness (M, 43k, WIP, WangXian, ChengSang, XuanLi, Avatar & Benders Setting, Avatar (TV) Fusion, LWJ is the avatar, JC is So Done, and very sassy, Found Family Dynamics, chosen family, Friendship, Slow Burn, MDZS Canon Typical Violence, Genderfluid NHS, NHS is a Kyoshi Warrior, Protective WQ) Air Avatar LWJ; Southern Water Tribe Jiangs; Earthbending Nies (and genderqueer Kyoshi Warrior! NHS); Firebending Jins; Northern Water Tribe Wens.) The author does a capable job of shifting and reapportioning the character dynamics; for example, Avatar LWJ is a solemn and earnest Fish Out Of Water, meaning that Aang’s story-driving playfulness has to be carried by WWX.)

Mending the Pieces by JustAWanderingBabbit (G, 98k, 3Zun) although elementbending per se isn’t a thing in JustAWanderingBabbit’s third-generation post-canon fic Mending The Pieces, the fact that each Great Sect represents one of the Chinese Five Elements is a driving plot point, with the question of who will succeed to the Fire slot once held by the Qishan Wen.

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7. Hii! Looking for fics where hie huaisang gets tired of the pining and sets up wangxian from behind the scenes (Can be modern or canon era)

The second fic in like mayflies wandering series by @rosethornewrites (M, 12k, NHS & WWX, wangxian, post-canon, assassination attempts, introspection, regret, travel, WWX pov, ghosts, reconciliation, exhaustion, pining, feelings realisation, illness, found family, hurt/comfort, emotional manipulation, manipulative NHS, friendship, qi deviation, resentful energy, WIP)

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8. Hey! thank u for all ur hard work! This is an iitmf request and idk if it gets asked on a lot... but I wanna find fics where wwx cares for a child in the canon timeline (maybe cr arc, or bm arc) maybe pre-wangxian? I hope it's not a atall order thank you!

Check out #4 of this post

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9. For the next itmf, I've seen a lot of lan zhan FUCKS fics but I'm wondering if there are any in lwj's pov? Or even where wwx is the playboy and lwj is pining after him (not like fake playboy in canon but like actually this time)?

Beyond the Blue Sky by Lyna_Mei (E, 39k, wangxian, WWX/others, post-canon, angst, self-esteem issues, WIP)

forget-me-not by mellowflicker (E, 31k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, Sugar Daddy WWX, Sugar Baby LWJ, Professor WWX, Student LWJ, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, Secret Relationship, Age Difference, Hurt/Comfort, Chronic Pain, JZX & LWJ Friendship, Family Issues, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiāngs)

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10. Hello!!! You guys are doing the lord's work here! Most of what I read it's because of recommendation or someone looking for something interesting over here, quality curated content heh

For the next IITMF, if please: any fics where Wei Wuxian is actually Jiang Fengmian's bastard?

Any settings, any AUs, preferably if the situation has repercussions (societal or just personal, both are good). Thank you!

A Well-Heeled Man by littlelightbeams (E, 52k, WangXian, Inspired by Crazy Rich Asians, Morning Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sneaking Around, Mistaken Identity, Modern AU, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Declarations Of Love, Sibling Love, Angst with a Happy Ending, Romantic Comedy)

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11. hiiii i was wondering for the next im in the mood for you guys could recommend some not jiang friendly fics in which wei ying actually gets away from them thank you 🫶🏼 @void-unto-oblivion

🧡 All will be well when the day is done by abCEE (T, 76k, wangxian, time travel, canon divergence, fix it, not YZY friendly, not Jiang friendly, butterfly effect, no sunshot, madam lan lives, lan WWX)

🧡 Feline misconduct: How Wei Wuxian defeated catboyphobia and seduced his way into becoming Lan Wangji’s lap cat by Papriqua, vicchan (E, 44k, WangXian, Catboy WWX, Mpreg, Eventual Smut, Homophobia, Not JC Friendly, Cloud recesses study Era)

peacemaker no more by thelastdboy (G, 6k, JYL & WWX, JYL & JC, wangxian, modern, unspecified chronic illness, Jiang family dynamics, JYL pov, eldest daughter experience (tm), homophobia, not JC friendly, mental health issues)

Trials of Time by Muggle_Diary (E, 32k, wangxian, major character death, underage, time travel, not jiang friendly, not YZY friendly, not JC friendly, butterfly effect)

Through the Storm by marhikit (T, 33k, WangXian, Wen Xu/Male OC, WWX has siblings, Canon Divergence, Not Jiang Family Friendly, No golden core transfer, JZX & WWX friendship)

A Future Family In A Broken Past by Hauntcats (T, 121k, wangxian, time travel, not jiang friendly)

Like stones on an unseen board by Vir_Abelasan (Not rated, 11k, wangxian, age difference, dark lwj, manipulation, implied abuse, corporal punishment, happy ending, not jiang friendly)

My heart knows (you’re the missing piece) by makexianxianhappytoday (T, 67k, wangxian, WWX & Jiang family, BSSR & WWX, canon divergence, rogue cultivator WWX, not Jiang friendly, protective LWJ, butterfly effect, no golden core transfer, WIP)

Inchoate by Marinelifeclub (T, 17k, wangxian, WWX leaves Jiang Sect, bad parent YZY & JFM, not JC friendly, not YZY friendly, rogue cultivator WWX, protective LWJ, no golden core transfer, dark JFM, WIP)

If only you knew (what goes on in my mind) by makexianxianhappytoday (G, 7k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, angst w/ happy ending, not Jiang friendly, protective LWJ)

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12. Hi! Any good recs for Sizhui coming to terms with his Wen ancestry and what it means to also be Lan? Or just Sizhui reflecting on his family. I've read a couple masterpieces like the Stone-Filled Sea and This Blood in My Mouth but I would love to read some more. @distinguishedstudentfishalien

only begun to get to the person i was (i'm different when i'm me) by deadbeatrefrain (T, 27k, LSZ & WN, LSZ/WN, Character Study, Post-Canon, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, complicated feelings, Culture Loss (& Discovery!), Canon amnesia, Severe Trauma, PTSD, Anxiety, implied depression, Nightmares & Sleeping Problems, Physical Intimacy, Mentions of Canon Genocide & Murder, Mentions Of Canon Torture & Abuse, Discussion Of War & Its Aftermath, Semi-Graphic Description Of A Fatal Injury, world-building, minor sect politics, Fierce Corpse Problems, mild body horror, Lots Of Untagged Characters & Relationships (see notes), Minor Romantic Elements (see notes!), Hopeful Ending)

When You Wake, 怎能当梦一场 by MouSanRen (T, 39k, WangXian, WWX is in a coma, Angst with a Happy Ending, Modern AU, Single Dad LWJ, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Parenthood, YZY's A+ Parenting, JFM's A+ parenting) pls dont let the modern AU dissuade you, this is a heart warming fic from sizhuis pov about his place in the world, and his baba's place in the world💞

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13. do you perchance know any actor aus? A bit wangxian-centric or any other,,,thanks!

He is Wei Wuxian’s by devinokaze (T, 41k, WangXian, Modern AU, Celebrity, actor!wwx, singer!dancer!lwj, Social Media, Entertainment Industry, POV Outsider, Fluff and Humor)

life, drama and action by Akai__hana (G, 13k, WangXian, XuanLi, singer!lwj, actor!wwx, Social Media AU, Fluff and Humor, Established Relationship, Fluff and Crack)

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14. hello!!! this is kinda specific: im in the mood for fics where lan sizhui finds out the yiling patriarch is his dad/father figure/guardian BEFORE he knows that senior mo is the yllz, and possibly even before he meets "mo xuanyu" in the first place. (anybody else finding this out is also fair game, whether or not sizhui knows.)

i've read "would you come home?", which gave me this idea, but that fic seems to be set in an au where nobody really knows who wwx was, and i want to be clear that that's not what i'm looking for; i'd much prefer either canon setting or an au (of any kind) where wwx is still (in)famous. what would it be like to find out you were raised by the boogeyman?

thank you very much in advance!!!!<3 @kisskissgotohell

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15. Hey Mods! I`m in the Mood for fics where A) LWJ and WWX fake-date but are like, oh, he would never love me ever! And everyone around them is just….facepalming. Maybe LZ`s POV but everything is fine really.

B) Also in a mood for a fic with LXC and JC fake dating for once.

Thank you so much, My life-Saviors! @desperation-is-my-middle-name

15A)

resonant frequencies by chinxe (T, 15k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Pining)

On The Way To The Stars by kuro (T, 11k, WangXian, Modern AU, Star Trek Fusion, Science Fiction, Road Trips, Fake Marriage, Pining, Fluff, Separations, Wedding Rings)

A Suitcase and a Long Red Bottle of Wine by Sunny73 (T, 4k, WangXian, WWX's self worth issues, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Angst, Awkward Flirting, patient lwj, Hot Mess WWX, napkin origami, Chatty bartender WWX, Best Friends, Pining, Fake fiancees, rude donkey stickers, Demisexual WWX, Best boy A'Yuan)

The Intersection of Drunken Antics and Ill-Advised Agreements by Incandescentflower (E, 24k, WangXian, College/University, Friends With Benefits, Fuckbuddies, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Oblivious WWX, Pining LWJ, Drunk LWJ, Literary flirting, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Snow antics, Anal Fingering, Angst, Bottom LWJ, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, America, Switching)

C’est toi pour moi by eatmyass (T, 49k, WangXian, Modern AU, Jab We Met AU, Strangers to Lovers, travelling, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Fluff, Slow Burn, Pining, POV LWJ, Endgame WangXian, All Is Not As It Seems, No cheating whatsoever!, Paris: the city of hate)

hold up a mirror by spookykingdomstarlight (E, 36k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Eventual Smut, Happy Ending, Self-Discovery, Insecurity, Dancing, Knitting, Idiots in Love, Loneliness, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Wei Wuxian/Others)

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16. For your iitm posts, are there any fics where post-canon wwx is de-aged to his teens/cloud recesses self, and interacts with the juniors? Thanks! @kesterling

memories fade (but the love remains) by monsshi (G, 4k, WangXian, Temporary Amnesia, Curses, Memory Loss, Junior Quartet Dynamics, WWX is Loved, Light Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempt at Humor, Fluff and Humor, Family Feels, Junior Ensemble Shenanigans, Post-Canon, Brother Feels, Fix-It of Sorts)

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17. For an IITMF, what are the mods favorite podfics, if they have any? I only recently got into listening to podfics instead of reading ones, especially for longer fics, so I wanna know what the mods recommend! (Or anyone else!)

ModL: I am woefully behind my podfic TBR but I definitely enjoyed these:

For a Good Time, Call by ScarlettStorm [Podfic] by Rhea314 (Rhea) (E, 15-20H, only fans au, getting together, pining, porn)

Gremlin Twitter Boyfriend by bluegeekEM, cantarina, duckgirlie, EosRose, exmanhater, fleurrochard, GoLBCollabs (GodOfLaundryBaskets), Gondolinpod (Gondolin), isweedan, knight_tracer, nyanxian, Opalsong, RevolutionaryJo, Rhea314 (Rhea), Rindle, sisi_rambles, Syr, Vorvayne_reads (Vorvayne) (T, 5-6H, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, JYL/LQY, SL/XXC, modern, twitter fic, fake/pretend relationship, pining, matchmaking)

[Podfic of] sweet as cherry wine by exmanhater (and a few others from them ^^) (E, 2-6H, wangxian, modern, mpreg, smut, pining)

Hi! I unfortunately don't listen to Podfics but we do have a Podfic Comp that might have some you'd enjoy ^^ - Mod C

kealdrakemna they have 3 mdzs works and they are awesome! (logged in only)

@gemaesteria has some great MDZS podfics and other danmei podfics as well :)

[Podfic] 小兔子 | Little Bunny by PandaReads (DrPanda99) (T, 30-45M, POV LQR, love language: acts of service, Caring LQR, Character Study, Canon Universe, References to Canon, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Comatose Qingheng-jun, Minor WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending, Podfic Length: 30-45 Minutes, Mandarin speaking reader) is Little Bunny, one of my fave fics from dragongirlG.

We also collabed on a fic made for podfic here:

一家人 | One Family by dragongirlG, PandaReads (DrPanda99) (G, 1k, WangXian, Modern AU, Chinese diaspora, mid-autumn festival, Chinese Food, Family Bonding, Traditions, mooncakes, Podfic Length: 10-20 Minutes, Mandarin speaking reader, Good Uncle LQR)

I've done two long podfics with music fully integrated too here!

[Podfic] Themes and Variations in F# Major by PandaReads (DrPanda99) (E, 1.5-2H, WangXian, Modern AU, Classical Music, Getting Together, POV Alternating, Long-Distance Friendship, Podfic Length: 1.5-2 Hours)

and

[Podfic] I Don't Want to Debut! by PandaReads (DrPanda99) (G, 6-7H, WangXian, Modern AU, Reality Show, Idols, Celebrity, Social Media, Epistolary, Romance, Fluff, Footnotes, Kissing, Poetry, Podfic Length: 6-7 Hours, Mandarin speaking reader)

if you don't mind/enjoy cold reads, kisahawklin has several hundred hours of excellent podfics

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder #long post

110 notes · View notes

a-edgar-allan-hoe · 2 years

Text

Crimson and Clover

Eddie Munson x Reader Part 1

Part 2

A/N: So I finally caught up on starting the 4th season of Stranger Things and being that punk/metal kid that I was in high school (and still am lol), I became obsessed with Eddie Munson and his music taste 🙃. The dynamic between Eddie and reader is inspired by 10 Things I Hate About You. Reblogs and feedback is much appreciated and let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist. Hope y’all enjoy! 💜💜💜

Summary: Imagine being the new kid at Hawkins High School. After a series of traumatic events that led you repeating your senior year of high school, your parents send you off to live with your Aunt and Uncle and your cousin, separating you from your home and your band, where you find yourself in the small town of Hawkins.

Notes and Warnings: language, violence, gore and horror themes, smoking, mentions of drug use, mentions of past abuse and sexual themes. Angst. Slight enemies to lovers trope. Oblivious pining. Slow burn? Reader is over the age of 18. Reader is also a bit of an ass but Eddie low key enjoys it.

It was still early out that day, when the sun had already risen from its previous place on the horizon, when Eddie Munson and the rest of the Hellfire club hung around the front of the school waiting for class to start. And although he had showed up earlier than what he had intended and what he was used to, that did not stop him from dreading every minute of it. The morning was slightly colder than he had expected as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his denim jacket from the breeze that just blew past, bringing his shoulders up and shivering slightly against the chilly air while Dustin and Mike engaged in a heated debate regarding their last game.

Many students bustled about the area at this hour; some of them trudging tiredly along with their faces washed out and dark circles prominent under their eyes from the lack of sleep, some of them hanging around their cars chatting away within their group of friends, while others sat on the cold pavement with not a single thought behind their eyes. And yet, despite their differences, all of them were waiting for the same exact thing: that irritating ringing of the bell that signaled the start of classes just so they could get the day over with. Within the small time that had passed, the argument between the two young Hellfire members only became more heated, leading the voices of the others in the group to raise in volume as each one now had their own say in the matter, earning many looks from the other students in the area.

It was not long before Eddie opened his mouth to butt in on the subject, a slight annoyance hidden behind his eyes at the fact that two of his players were not getting along, but his thoughts only became distracted by the low roaring of an engine and the sound of punk rock music in the distance. And as the sound only became louder and louder, echoing down the street from where it came, the Hellfire leader recognized the tune as Cherry Bomb by The Runaways and turned his head to see a white car approach the parking lot: a 1970 Dodge Challenger RT.

The loud engine and the blasting of the music had silenced the other members in the midst of their argument as they followed Eddie’s gaze to see just what it was that had stumbled upon the rare chance of managing to catch the metalhead’s attention, gazing upon the vehicle themselves as it pulled into an empty parking spot. The car had peaked the boys’ interests as they stared at the beauty of the classic muscle car out front, their eyes tracing over the black hard top and the matte black stripe that ran down the middle of the hood and around the tail at the back.

“Wicked.” Dustin breathed out as he admired the car before him, stealing the words right out of the rest of the members’ mouths, even the the oldest student himself.

The song had played out for a couple seconds more through the car’s speakers as whoever was inside seemed to be rummaging around, before both the rumbling of the engine and the music came to a stop just as the door on the driver’s side opened. With curiosity sparking their eyes, the boys craned their necks with Dustin pushing himself to the front to see just who it was that drove such a vehicle in a small town such as this.

Different ideas had popped into the boys’ heads as each had started to form their own theory as to who the mysterious driver could be, either it was someone from their school that had just scored a new car, or perhaps it was a new visitor from out of town. But whatever or whoever it was, that did not help to stop them from wanting to get a glimpse of the person behind the wheel. And as they looked on, their skin itching with anticipation, a pair of black Dr Martens boots stepped onto the pavement before revealing…..a girl? And not just any girl, this was a girl they had never seen before.

“Who’s that?” Mike squinted his eyes in a poor attempt to get a better look while Dustin only stared out in awe.

“I don’t know but holy shit.” Dustin stared ahead as if he had just seen the coolest girl to ever exist.

Eddie on the other hand had been silent as if the mere sight of you had completely knocked the air out of him, his mouth slightly agape as he took in your appearance. His dark eyes traced over your tousled hair and the dark tinted frames of your sunglasses that rested on the bridge of your nose, to the unlit cigarette that hung loosely from your lips, to your slightly worn out black leather biker jacket that seemed a size too big for you, to your Misfits shirt and right down to your loose-fitted washed out jeans that had a hole torn at one of the knees. You definitely were not from around here. And though the sunglasses your wore concealed your eyes, they did not fail to mask the callous expression that sat so evidently on your features. Your eyes. The metalhead found himself wondering about the details of your eyes, pondering on the possibilities of their shape and the curl of the lashes and even what colors lied within the swirls of your irises.

“Hey Eddie.” Dustin smirked with a mischievous glint in his eyes, turning back to look at the metalhead whose eyes remained fixed on you while Mike snickered from the attempt to stifle back a laugh, knowing exactly what Dustin was about to say. “Think we finally found you a girlfriend.”

Eddie’s jaw tightened at the words as he tried to force away the blush that attempted to creep onto his cheeks from the way the other Hellfire members chuckled at what Dustin had uttered. The group had found Dustin’s comment to be amusing, acting as if that was the highlight of their whole day as they snorted through their noses until Eddie gave a light smack to the back of Mike and Dustin’s heads, causing the rest to clear their throats as they quieted down and avoided his eyes in fear of being his next target.

“You comin?” You called out to your cousin as you bent down, your keys jingling from its ring between your fingers as you rested your arm on the hood of your car, peering inside to see her staring at her reflection to apply some lipstick.

“Mhm. Just give me a sec.” She replied in a chirpy voice before giving her lips a pop, placing the cap of the lipstick back on with a soft click as she grabbed her backpack and got out from the passenger seat.

Despite living miles apart, you had known each other since you both were in your diapers, leading the two of you to practically become joined at the hip. And as you both got older, living in different states, you made sure to stay in contact with each other as you grew up, sharing stories through letters and long phone calls. And since it had been many years since you last saw her in person, it was still a bit awkward for you to be around her, especially since the two of you were polar opposites. Your cousin was younger than you were, with her 17th birthday approaching right around the corner. And though you were excited for her, you could not help but feel anxious about the upcoming day, being the older cousin that you were.

“Is that Sydney Anderson the cheerleader?” Mike scrunched his nose in confusion once he saw the popular girl step out from the passenger seat. What the hell were the likes of you two doing together.

Remembering to grab your cup of coffee from your cup holder, you straightened back up and closed your driver door, taking a quick glance around from underneath your sunglasses and noticing the way the other students were staring at you as you leaned against your car. For fucks sake. “The hell y’all lookin at?” You scowled, causing them to whisper a few things to each other before they averted their gaze.

“Oh she is definitely Eddie’s new girlfr-“ Mike leaned over to whisper to Dustin only to get silenced by the older student.

“Shut it Wheeler.”

“Well, this is Hawkins High.” Your cousin Sydney gestured as she came around to stand next to you. “I know it’s nothing like Malibu or Seattle but…”

“Mm, looks welcoming.” You spoke in a monotone voice as you held up your metal lighter, its small flame sparking up the end of your cigarette. The fumes surrounded your area as you took a long drag at the thing, the puff of smoke escaping your lips and wrapping its tendrils around your head. Throwing your head back and closing your eyes for a brief moment, you breathed in a deep sigh before opening your eyes back up and letting out a wince once you gave your cousin a once over. “Jesus. Aren’t you cold in that thing?”

“Mm, not really.”

“I could never.” You muttered under your breath as you held your cigarette between your fingers to take a sip of your coffee before giving her a double take as you recognized that familiar shade of red now staining her lips. “Is that my lipstick?”

“….yes. Why? Does it look bad?”

“Why are you wearing my lipstick?”

“Well I’ve never really worn a darker shade like this.” Sydney twirled the tube of lipstick between her fingers before holding it up to her face in inspection. “And it was unused so I figured you didn’t want it.”

“Sydney, when I said to just ask, I meant ask first.”

“Oh, sorry.” Sydney grimaced as she held out your now used lipstick. “Do you want it back?”

“No, it’s fine.” You gave a sigh. “Just keep it. It looks better on you anyway.”

The bell had let out a loud ring just as you took another drag of your cigarette, it’s sound echoing out through the parking lot and eliciting a few groans from the students around you as they started to make their way to class.

“Shit.” You muttered with a small groan of your own, putting your cigarette out beneath your boot before tossing it in a nearby trash can. You had taken more than a year off from school due to family matters, matters you rarely spoke of nor ever wished to tell anyone. And though you wanted nothing more than to walk that stage and obtain your diploma and finally move on from this stage of life, a part of you did not even want to be here in the first place. Following closely behind Sydney, you stopped in your tracks, your cup of coffee still warm in your hand as you turned around to look back at your car with pursed lips.

“You look worried.”

“I’m worried some jackass is gonna scratch up my baby.”

“I’m sure your car will be fine.”

“Tell that to my wallet and the amount of hours I spent fixing her up.” You scoffed, taking another sip of your coffee. "I swear, if I find a single dent, or the tiniest scratch-"

“Well I’ll keep my fingers crossed for good luck.” Sydney gave you a smile, interlocking her arm with yours to which you looked down at her small frame with a quirked brow, getting a strong whiff of her vanilla scented perfume. “Now come, I’ll show you to your locker.”

“Jeez, yay.”

Many eyes had followed your form as you went through the hallway, each student thinking exactly what the other was thinking; if Chrissy Cunningham was considered the "Queen of Hawkins High School", then what the hell was the "Princess of Hawkins High", Sydney Anderson, the popular rich cheerleader doing with a girl like you?

“Seems like everyone here can take a lesson in basic manners. They got a staring problem or what.” You snarked under your breath as you pushed your sunglasses up on top of your head.

“They’re just…not used to seeing someone new.” Sydney let out a nervous laugh, smiling at the students as she passed by and flashing her perfect pearly whites.

“By new you mean as in someone like me, which happens to be a freak in their basic ass textbook definition.”

“You are not a freak.” Sydney gasped, turning to look at you with widened eyes. “Sure, you’re different, but I think you’re pretty cool.”

“That’s because we’re related.”

“Not even. I would still think you were pretty cool even if you weren’t my cousin.” Sydney rolled her eyes playfully before stopping in front of a locker and throwing her hand out in a dramatic gesture. “Ta-da!”

“…..you put stickers.” You uttered as you noticed the bright lettered stickers that spelled out your name right smack in the middle.

“Yup! And it’s right next to mine too!”

As you looked over to the locker right next to yours on the left, sure enough, you saw her name right at the center of the locker door, neatly arranged with colorful sparkly stickers of flowers and butterflies, scratch and sniff ones, as well as pictures of Madonna, Whitney Houston, Cyndi Lauper, and Bananarama also plastered on it.

“Wow.“

“And we’re matching too!”

“I can see that.” You forced a smile.

“Even though I didn’t really put any pictures on yours because I know you don’t really listen to that stuff. Ooh, and I also added some Halloween themed stickers on yours to make it more you!”

“Gee, now there’s no need for me to go buy my own stickers.” Despite the colorful display of your locker that matched your cousin’s in its own flamboyant way, the bright stickers standing out from the other lockers beside them and catching the eyes of those that would walk by, you could not help but feel your heart warm up at the thoughtfulness behind it. “I uh…I appreciate it Sydney. Thanks.”

“You do? Perfect! Now I’ll show you to our first period since we have the same class together.” Sydney nearly yanked you with her as she walked away, forgetting that her arm was still interlocked with yours.

“Oof!” You grunted, nearly tripping over your own feet as you tried to keep up with her. “Wait, we do? Thank god.” You let out a breath of relief that surprised even the cheerleader herself. It was as if this moment was the most relaxed she had seen you since you first arrived in Hawkins. But in all honesty, you were just glad not to have to walk into your first class all by yourself. If the students were staring at you now, you could not imagine what it would be like inside a smaller area like a classroom.

And as Sydney led you into your first class, your arms linked together in a hidden fear of being separated amongst the large rowdy crowd of high schoolers, you frowned slightly after seeing her take a seat at the very front of the class near the window. Being the introvert that you were, you were hoping she would have chosen a spot near the back of the class, tucked away from the prying eyes of everyone else. But you knew better than to expect such a thing from the Sydney Anderson. So, after a moment of hesitance, you instead took the seat right behind her, saving a spot of the window for yourself in case you needed to look out at the area beyond the confined walls of the classroom and separate yourself from reality.

“So?” Sydney turned around in her seat to face you, a grin plastered on her face.

“So what?”

“You excited?”

“I’m having a math class first thing in the morning.” You scoffed with a soft chuckle. “Not sure if that is something to be excited about.”

“Tsk, I know.” Sydney threw her head back, her ponytail bouncing as she did so. “I’m just excited to be going to school with you, to be honest. There is so much I want to show you. And ooh! There’s so many people you have to meet!”

“Oh god no.”

“What?”

“Anything but the last part.”

While students began to pile into the room, many of whom stared in your direction, your eyes instead remained focused on the window beside you as you occasionally took sips of your coffee, watching the scenery outside as a small smile appeared on your lips at the sight of a butterfly fluttering down to perch itself at the window pane. And as more students followed in, each of them navigating their way to find a seat, Eddie slowly tagged in behind with Gareth right beside him. His thoughts were elsewhere, his eyes casted to the floor until he felt a sharp jab to his ribs, glaring at Gareth who only nodded in your direction with a smirk.

With his eyes narrowed in confusion, Eddie gave Gareth a questioning look before turning around and spotting you sitting at a desk on the other side of the room gazing out the window. Nearly tripping over himself at the clear view he had of your profile, he swallowed the lump that managed to form itself in his throat and looked away before rushing to the very back of the class. Just his luck. The new girl just had to be sharing his very first class. He could not understand what it was that made him so nervous around you, it was not like you were the first pretty girl he had ever seen. Was it your Misfits shirt? It had to be your shirt.....right? Not that he even listened to punk in the first place.

“Oh by the way.” Sydney turned to face you once more. “I don’t think the teacher allows drinks in the classroom that aren’t water.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Nope, just a heads up.”

“Fuck me.” You hissed between your teeth before popping the lid off to chug the thing down.

Though Eddie had sat at the back next to Gareth and away from everyone, his deep brown eyes kept finding themselves flitting over to you as he watched you and Sydney speak to each other in hushed tones. Even he could not figure out as to why a cheerleader like Sydney was hanging around someone that the other cheerleaders would not even dare to be seen in close distance with. Were the two of you dating? No, it can’t be, Sydney was dating someone from the school's basketball team. But perhaps he can find out from someone. After all, you were a new student, a mystery left unsolved.

And as he sat there at his desk, leaning back against the chair and fiddling with the pencil between his fingers while Gareth leaned over to speak to him about god knows what, his eyes once again found themselves landing over to the back of your head, focusing on the texture of your hair, the few buttons you had pinned to the collar of your leather jacket, and the dainty piece of amber-colored sea glass that sat below your collar bone, hung by a thin leather chord necklace. Unbeknownst to Gareth, Eddie had not been paying attention to a single word that he had said. Gareth’s voice had been muffled out within the walls of Eddie's scattered mind, like the background noise of a TV that had been left on as the metalhead quirked a brow at watching you chug your coffee down.

"Hello? Earth to Eddie? You in there man?" Gareth snapped his fingers in front of Eddie's face after noticing that the older student had spaced out the whole time.

"What?"

"Dude." Gareth scoffed after seeing the look on his friend’s face, especially with the way he was watching you. "You totally have the hots for her."

"What?" Eddie turned to look at him. "Eat my shorts Gareth. I do not have the hots for her.”

“Uh, yeah you do.” Gareth scoffed before looking over at you. “I mean who wouldn’t. She’s a total babe.”

“She’s a Punk.”

“She doesn't really look like a punk.”

“Well, she is wearing a Misfits shirt for one, and I’m pretty sure I caught a Dead Kennedys and a Black Flag pin on her jacket.”

“And?”

“And? And?” Eddie looked at Gareth in slight disbelief. “Gareth, Gareth the Great, listen, Punks and Metalheads like us are practically mortal enemies.”

“But why?”

“Because…...” Eddie started, his eyes moving around as if he were searching for some solid reasons, tapping his pencil against the wooden desk as he made his points. “Because Punks are known to be nihilistic, aggressive, vulgar, and extremely political and hate everyone and everything that isn’t them.”

“But isn’t that sort of you?”

“NO.” Eddie emphasized as he gestured to himself. “I am none of those things. And besides, their music is just a bunch of noisy non-technical shitty repetitive power chords that make no sense. In other words, they’re a bunch of self-righteous anarchist assholes.”

Finishing the last bit of coffee, you quickly slapped the lid back on before tossing the empty cup, watching it fly right over the students heads and straight into the trash can on the other side at the front corner of the room just as the teacher walked in through the door, nearly missing her face by a couple of inches. You quickly straightened up in your seat and stared straight ahead, your heart pounding in your chest from that close of a call while Sydney slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her gasp.

“Whoever did that,” the teacher grumbled out as she gave a quick glance around the room, her sharp eyes landing on every single student from behind her pointed glasses, “better not do that again.

The class was silent as the teacher walked in with a click of her kitten heels before slamming her briefcase on top of her desk, the loud noise echoing off the walls and startling awake the students who came in feeling drowsy. You had a feeling she was going to be a pain to work with. And it sure as hell did not help with the fact that the very subject she happened to be teaching was math, the only subject there were no cheat codes and shortcuts to. You either knew the material or you did not.

"That was close." You heard Sydney whisper in front of you.

"That's softball for ya." You muttered under your breath, thinking back on your old softball trophies that now sat on a shelf collecting dust, reminiscent of the days where you used to somehow give a damn about being the best at everything just to make your parents proud, days that no longer mattered nor held any significance.

"Hey," Your cousin turned her head slightly, being careful as to not end up on the other side of the teacher's glare, "you're coming to the pep rally tomorrow right?"

"You mean the event where a lot of people cram together like sardines and hold hands while singing kumbaya and preach about the so called school spirit?"

"Oh come on, it's not as bad as you make it sound. It's for tomorrow's game. Plus, I'll be there and it'll mean a lot to me."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks!" Sydney let out a squeal, giving your hand a tight squeeze before turning back around.

You could not hold back the sigh that escaped your lips as you propped your head up with your hand, absentmindedly staring out the window while the teacher introduced herself in a strict manner before handing out the class syllabus. You began to wish you were back home in Seattle, even if it meant living with your parents again. At least there you had your friends who were in your band, a place to run off to and escape the dark cloud that hovered over your family's home. The more you dwelled on it, the more your heart started to ache. And as you sat there, eyes distant, haunted also by the memories that latched on to that place, you remained completely unaware of the boy that sat a couple chairs behind you, the boy that would either be the new beginning to the chapter of your story, or your epilogue.

By the time that lunch had rolled around, you had wanted nothing more than to scarf down your food after not having eaten any breakfast due to your nerves when you woke up, especially with the way your stomach was growling like a rabid badger at the moment. The chattering and bustling of the students nearly overpowered your cousin’s soft voice as she spoke to you about the different cliques and groups that sat at their own designated tables while the two of you walked down the cafeteria with your trays in hand.

"Sydney." You stopped in your tracks once you saw her head towards where the cheerleaders sat.

"Yeah?"

"You don't mind if we sit at our own spot, do you? Not that I don't mind meeting your uh.....cheerleading buddies. But I haven't ate anything since dinner last night and I'm feeling a bit jittery from the coffee."

“Yeah, that’s fine. How’s this spot?” Sydney gestured with her tray to the table where the school’s newspaper group sat at the other end.

“Looks good. So long as no one decides to join in.” You sat down across from her before looking down at the school food with a slight twist of your lips, eyeing the stale looking bread and the cold mac and cheese that sat in the compartments, and whatever the hell that brown crumbly looking thing was. “The hell is this?” You pointed at the brown object with your fork, leaning forward to give it a quick sniff.

“That’s meatloaf.”

“Meatloaf? Ugh, no thanks.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Just thinking about how I should have brought my own lunch.” You stuck your fork into the mac and cheese, lifting up the contents and watching it fall back onto the tray with a wet plop that nearly made you gag. “I think I’m going to stick with the apple and the juice box and this.........cookie." You held up the chocolate chip cookie with a reluctant look, hoping that it would be the only good thing in your lunch tray as you took a bite out of it with a loud crunch that would have seemed to chip your front teeth. Okay, it was not too bad, a little hard and overcooked, but it did not seem to be nearly as bad as the meatloaf and the mac and cheese that looked like something out of a slasher film.

"Oh shit." Dustin cursed beside Eddie and Mike, his lunch tray clutched between his hands as the Hellfire club sat down at their spot at a table on the other side of the cafeteria.

"What's gotten into you Henderson? You look spooked." Jeff asked the younger student after noticing the paled expression that sat on his face.

"It's y/n."

"Who?"

"Y/n y/l/n. The new girl."

Eddie, who had already seated himself at the end of the table, his fork merely centimeters away from digging into his lunch, snapped his head up after hearing you being mentioned. Following Dustin's gaze in an attempt to assess where you were, he peered out from under the strands of his hair to see you on the other side of the cafeteria, seated in front of none other than Sydney. So the new mystery girl has a name.

"How'd you get her name?" One of the other Hellfire members asked, the bassist for Eddie's band.

"From Lucas, who heard from Sydney's boyfriend who found out from Sydney Anderson herself." Dustin rambled as he finally took a seat next to Mike.

"Okay but why is Sydney friends with her?" Mike asked this time, clearly confused like the rest as to why the two of your were together.

"Because y/n is Sydney's older cousin, duh."

"Well I didn't know!" Mike exclaimed.

And as the other boys leaned in to hear what else Dustin had to say, each of them eager to know more about the new mystery girl, Eddie sat still. His eyes remained fixated on the contents of the tray as if it were the only thing worthy of interest as he moved his food around with his fork with an impassive look on his face, though his ears remained alert for any new details about you.

"Also she grew up in Malibu before moving to Seattle."

“Malibu?” Eddie scoffed at Dustin’s piece of information. “She some kind of Malibu Barbie?” It was hard for him to picture you as some valley girl from Malibu, the place of rich people and sunshine and surfers.

“I don’t know Eddie, does she look like a Malibu Barbie?” Dustin snarked, only to receive a glare from the older student and a small carrot thrown right smack at the center of his face. “Um, ow.”

“Watch that attitude Henderson.”

"But then what is she doing here?" Gareth questioned, not sure why someone would move from the city to a small town like Hawkins.

"I heard she missed out on more than a year of her senior year of high school. Supposedly, her parents sent her here because of some serious shit." Dustin answered before standing up, his eyes darting around the area in a cautious manner before smacking his hands flat on the table to lean over as he lowered his voice to a whisper. "I heard she got into a knife fight."

“A knife fight? What, like some Arnold Schwarzenegger and Rambo shit?” Jeff chuckled.

“Actually, more like Rebel Without a Cause and The Outsiders switchblade shit.” Dustin corrected.

"Sounds like a load of bullshit Henderson." Eddie muttered out. A knife fight? Eddie thought to himself as he looked over at you. That couldn't have happened.

"Uh no it's not. That's why she has this scar that comes across her cheekbone like this." Dustin retorted as he straightened up, drawing an imaginary line across his cheek with his finger to make a visual while the other members of the group only gasped and oohed in response.

"Woah. No way." Mike widened his eyes.

"Yeah way."

"Hang on. I didn't see any scar when we saw her in first period this morning." Gareth gave Dustin a look of doubt before giving Eddie a nudge. "Did you Eddie?"

"Huh? No I didn't see any scar." Eddie shook his head. Wait did he? He couldn't tell.

“Wait! You had her for first period?”

“Uh yeah.” Both Gareth and Eddie spoke in unison.

“What’s she like?” Mike questioned, leaning further from his seat.

“Does she look more evil in person?” Dustin added in, his eyes filled with intrigue. “Did she threaten you guys?...............Did you see a switchblade on her?"

“What?” Gareth cocked his head back before shaking his head. “Dude no. I don’t know what she’s like. Eddie and I sat on opposite sides of the room from her. And besides, I didn’t see any scar like you’re talking about.”

“Well there is a thing called makeup, I don’t know if you’ve heard of it.”

“Of course I’ve heard of it Dustin, shut up.” Gareth gave the boy a look of annoyance.

“Wait, what else did you hear?” Mike tugged on Dustin’s shirt to get his attention.

"I also heard she's a part of a coven and has a black cat with a third eye and that she sold her liver to the black market for that car. So she literally has like no liver.”

A coven? A cat with a third eye? A liver? Eddie set his fork down to give the younger student a quizzical look. Did his ears pick up on that right? He had heard a lot of ridiculous rumors in his life but there was no way Dustin was spewing facts at this point.

"What?" Mike squinted his eyes in perplexity along with the puzzled looks from the rest of the group. “Dude, I'm pretty sure it's like physically impossible to live without a liver."

"Okay so maybe it was a kidney." Dustin rolled his eyes in annoyance with an exasperated sigh. "I don't know anatomy."

“Yeah right Henderson.” The group brushed the boy off, giving him a pat on his shoulder to let him know they did not believe a single word he said at that point.

“It’s the truth!”

“Sounds like a bunch of baloney Dustin.” Mike shook his head as he returned to his food. “Next thing you’re gonna say is she killed someone and she’s wanted for murder…….or-or she’s a secret agent and her dad is in the CIA…or that she’s secretly a vampire.”

“Uh, YEAH, that’s because it’s a possibility. I’m tellin you, my sources are legit.”

“Mhm, yeah, sure.”

“Okay then why don’t we find out for sure.” Dustin crossed his arms over his chest.

“Yeah? And how are we going to do that genius?” Mike snarked.

“Uhhhh we can invite her over for dungeons and dragons.”

“Why would we want to do that?” Eddie’s bassist scoffed.

“Because she looks like someone who plays."

“No one is inviting anyone.” Eddie butted in before taking a bite out of his food. "Remember, I'm the boss here."

"Shit." Dustin cursed under his breath, staring down at the table with a pensive look in his eyes before looking back up again as an idea popped into his head. "Hey Eddie, why don't you go talk to her?"

“What? I’m not doing anything Henderson. Sit your ass down.”

"Oh come on please?"

"No."

"Pleeeeaaaase? Just to find out if those things are true or not."

"NO." Eddie sat back in his seat. "And besides, I doubt anyone, ESPECIALLY someone like her, would willingly admit to any of those things, particularly MURDER."

Dustin was unwilling to accept defeat as he stood his ground, arms crossed over his chest and a determined look on his face though he was contemplating whether he should pull such a daring move or not. “Don’t tell me you’re scared to talk to her Eddie."

"What'd you say?"

"You heard me. After all..........isn’t she like your dream girl? I'd expect you to be more eager about it."

The other members of the group had become as silent as the dead at the very moment, their bodies frozen in place as their eyes darted from Dustin to Eddie and back again. If the cafeteria was not already loud from the chatters of the other students, you would have expected to hear the chirping of crickets to fill in on that emptiness.

“She….she is not my dream girl.” Eddie pointed the fork at Dustin with a glare, his nostrils flaring as he let out a small laugh of disbelief from the bold move from the younger student. “She’s a Punk, which is the total opposite.”

“Uh huh, sure. Sounds like someone is scared.”

“Hey. What’d I say about that attitude huh? I’m not scared…I’m just….not in the mood to talk to some random girl during the middle of my lunch, the only time that I have away from other people. Also have you seen her face? I haven’t seen her smile one time since she got here.”

“I mean I wouldn’t be smiling too if I had to come here.” Mike commented.

“All I’m saying is, she seems like she’d be totally lame.”

“Chicken.”

“Oh really? You wanna go there?” Eddie stood up from his seat.

“Either that or you don’t know how to talk to girls.” Dustin held his head high, a small glint in his eyes as he dared to go even further. "I'll bet you the five dollars in my pocket."

“I-“ Eddie composed himself before forcing a tight-lipped grin on his face. “You want me to talk to her? Fine, I’ll go talk to her. I’ll even get her to go on a date with me.”

"Shake on it." Dustin held his hand out.

“It’s a bet little man.” Eddie gave the younger student a mischievous smile before giving him a firm handshake. This was going to be easy.

"Oh my god." Sydney muttered out, her voice drawing you out of your thoughts.

"Hm?" You hummed, your head held up by your hand and the straw of your juice box between your lips as you sipped on the apple flavored juice.

"It's Eddie Munson."

"Who?" You turned to face your cousin with furrowed brows and a blank look of uninterest.

"Eddie, The Freak, Munson."

"Am I supposed to know who that is?"

"He's like the school's freak." Sydney leaned towards you before lowering her voice. "Him and his group play some kind of.....dragon and dungeons game."

"What, that board game?" You quirked a brow, staring down at your nails for a moment before wiping them on your shirt and staring at them again.

"Something like that, I don't know. Anyways, him and his buddies are like super weird."

"Sounds like just about most of the human population Sydney. What exactly are you getting at?" You sighed, setting your juice box down before staring at the back of your cousin's head, only to roll your eyes as she seemed to be fixated on something. "Hello. Sydney."

"Oh my god," Sydney made a face before whipping her head around while you jerked away in order to avoid getting smacked in the face by her ponytail as she turned her body to face you. "He's coming this way."

"What? Who's coming this way? Sydney-"

"Hello ladies." You heard a man's voice above you. And as you looked up with an exaggerated roll of your eyes, slightly annoyed at being bothered by none other than some guy, you saw an older student with long brown curly hair wearing a denim vest over his leather jacket, standing over where Sydney sat at her seat on the table. A metalhead from the looks of it as you recognized the patches on his vest and the extremely unmistakable Metallica shirt. Unbeknownst to you, the Hellfire members were practically on the edge of their seats as they waited to see how this situation would unfold like some kind of soap opera.

"Ah shit." Dustin clutched the table in front of him, panicking from the look you just gave Eddie. "This is all my fault. I just put Eddie's life in danger."

"Shut up Dustin." Mike rolled his eyes as he gestured over to where your table was. "Eddie's got this, man. Look at him, he's practically oozing confidence. Y/n is gonna totally be all over him in no time.”

“……..Hi.” Eddie brought his hand up to give you a short wave after the silent stare that on your end.

"Who the fuck are you?" You blinked at the student before you.

"The name's Eddie." The student gave you a smile of confidence, though he would have been lying to himself if he said that he was not a single bit nervous, especially since he now had a clear view of your eyes that were lined with a brownish-black eyeshadow that only seemed to brighten the colors of your irises. The way you did your makeup made you look as if you had not had a single ounce of sleep, as if you had just crawled out of the grave itself. And though Eddie had never seen this certain style before; this rugged, somewhat androgynous, untidy look that you had going on, he found it kinda hot. And your eyes. God your eyes. and your lashes. They were striking no doubt the less, and if it were not for the sudden rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins, his knees would have gave out under him until he was nothing more than a mere pool of jelly. "I saw that you're new here and wanted to welcome you to Haw-"

"Oh really?" You gave the young man an overly sweet smile as you batted your eyelashes, the curl of your lips laced with the sardonic look behind the depths of your eyes. "When."

"When?" Eddie let out the smallest indistinct nervous laugh, not sure if he understood what you meant.

"When did I ask?"

"Yikes. Uh kinda rude don't ya think." Eddie let out a scoff.

"I know.” You smiled. “And frankly, I don’t give a shit. So why don’t you skedaddle on back to your little Go Fish club and you know….leave me alone.”

Shit. He did not quite know how to respond to that. Eddie thought to himself as he gulped at your stern expression, his eyes landing on a thin horizontal raised line that was barely visible across your cheekbone, hidden underneath your foundation. The scar. So Dustin was right about that. Your makeup had managed to cover the shade of your scar, making it seem as if nothing was there, but despite your efforts it had failed to disguise its texture, especially when hit under the right angle of light.

You stared at the man in front of you, your jaw tightening after noticing that his eyes were lingering far too long at a certain spot, an area you had tried so desperately to conceal. "You done? Or you just gonna stand there like some idiot?"

Eddie's eyes once again found themselves flitting up to meet yours, a new found uncertainty and even some displeasure hidden behind his irises from the way you spoke to him. He could not decipher whether he was annoyed or amused as he stood there, unconsciously licking his bottom lip while his thoughts ran mazes around each other just to come to one solitary supposition. You were the first girl to ever talk to him like that. Most of the girls either brushed him off and ignored him while others just called him a freak, but you, you were a straight up ass.

He tried to say something, anything, but not a single utterance of a word nor a single breath of a sound had managed to escape his throat while you glared at him in a way that felt as if you were seeing right through the man himself. He had no idea what came over him, it was as if you had hexed him. Even though he was considered the outcast, he usually never had a problem talking to a girl though no girl ever bothered to talk to him, that is, until you came along. In fact, you were the first to put him at a loss for words, not only because of your looks but also because of that sharp tongue of yours.

“Alright, alright.” Eddie put his hands up in defeat as he backed away. “As you wish m’lady.”

“Bye.” You called out, watching him leave before letting out a scoff of your own as you brushed back the loose strands of your hair.

“What the hell just happened?” Sydney turned to look at you, eyes wide and slack-jawed.

“Hell if I know.”

“Wow.” Your cousin shook her head with a small chuckle as she looked you over. “You so need to get laid.”

“What?!”

“I said you need to get laid. Jesus. That was extremely harsh, even for you.”

“Not even.” You rolled your eyes as you finished the rest of your juice, crumpling up the small carton in your hand before tossing it right into the trash can. “That was me being polite.”

“Yeah right.” Sydney gave you a smile that basically meant she found you silly. “When was the last time you got laid anyways?”

“Okay, first off.” You blinked with your brows raised as you held your hand in front of you, surprised she would even bring up such a thing. “That is none of your business. Second, the last thing I need right now, is some dude’s custard-launcher.”

“Custard-launcher?” Sydney made a face.

“You know…one-eyed snake, third leg, dick whatever! That is seriously the last thing I need.”

“Oh come on y/n.” The cheerleader propped her elbows up on the table. “Don’t you think he’s cute at least? I know he’s the school freak but he wasn’t too bad looking up close.”

“No.”

“But isn’t he like…your type?”

“What? No! Of course not!”

“What about your ex Damon?”

“Okay we do not say his name here alright?” You raised a brow. “Also, Damon’s style was completely different. He wore a lot of black….and flannels and boots and-and…..that stupid ass black trench coat of his. Not to mention he stole one of my small silver hoop earrings to wear it himself, that bastard.”

“Soooo…you’re saying you wouldn’t have sex with him?”

“Eugh! God no!” You stuck your tongue out in a face of disgust before standing up from your table, gathering your garbage on top of your tray to throw it away in the trash can. “Now if you’ll excuse me. I’m going to go to the restroom and wash my hands before this conversation gets any more weirder and makes me barf.”

Throwing the contents of your lunch tray into the garbage, you placed the empty plastic tray on top of the trash can with the rest of the other lunch trays before heading over to the restroom, shaking your head at the conversation you just had with your younger cousin. What was she thinking? Opening up the restroom, you gave a quick peak inside to make sure no one was in there before closing the door behind you.

“Fuckin hell.” You muttered out under your breath with another shake of your head, heading over to the middle sink to wash your hands. Turning on the faucet, you let the water run for a minute, the sound of the running water drowning out the sounds of the cafeteria from beyond the bathroom door, the only thing separating you from the outside world. It was just you now, just you, the sound of your own breathing, and the wooshing of the water. Clutching your hands on either side of the sink, you closed your eyes and let your head hang for a moment, the loose strands of your hair falling down beside your face.

Clearing your throat, you opened your eyes back up and tested out the temperature of the water first, running your fingers under the cool running water before pumping some soap into your hands and lathering it on up to your wrists. As you rinsed off your hands, watching the bubbles from the soap disappear down the drain, you noticed that the lights started flickering. Blinking, you turned around slowly and lifted your head towards the lights to see them flicker once more. And as you squinted against those hideous bars of the fluorescent lights, the blinking of your eyes somewhat synchronizing along with its buzzing and flickering, you heard someone call out your name.

“Hello?” You snapped your head towards the bathroom door. “Who is it?”

“Y/n.” There it was again, barely audible, but that same exact voice. A voice that seemed to belong to an older woman.

“Hello?!” You turned to face the stalls, craning your neck to see if someone was hiding in them and messing with you. “Whoever it is, it’s not funny!”

“Y/n.”

“Okay. Seriously. If your punk ass doesn’t come out right this second, I will literally take the meanest shit.” You stomped over to open one of the stalls, pushing the door back only to be met with nothing. And as you went over to open the rest, more determined than before to find just who was pulling the prank, you were met with the same thing, nothing. What the hell? You thought to yourself as you stared at the emptiness of the stall before you. With your brows knit together at the center, you turned away with your face lowered to the floor, disoriented about what that was all about. Then, as if someone had dabbled with the thermostat, your felt the air around you drop in temperature, turning icy cold.

“What the hell?” You breathed out at the sight of your breath escaping your lips in a cloud of mist against the frigid air. Someone was definitely toying with you. And whoever it was, just wait till you get your hands on them. Shivering, you wrapped your arms tightly around you, rubbing your hands up and down your biceps as you walked back over to the sink to turn off the faucet until you heard your name being called again, louder this time as it echoed off the pale tile walls. You stopped in your tracks, your eyes ever so slightly widened at the voice as you held your breath after finally being able to recognize who it belonged to. There was a certain stillness in the air and you shivered once more, only this time, it was not the cold.

“No no no. This isn’t real.” You shook your head, your jaw tight as you hurried over to the middle sink to turn off the water and bolt out of there. Reaching towards the faucet, you pulled your hand back with a gasp as the running water shifted colors, turning blood red as it filled up the sink. The lights began to flicker more rapidly, nearly blinding you in flashes of white while the voice began to shout your name, slowly distorting itself into something monstrous as it became louder and louder by the second. Stepping back with your face masked in horror, you watched as the blood red water started to overfill, spilling out from the sides of the sink and pooling out at the tiled floor beneath your feet. With your chest heaving from every breath that felt like icy daggers piercing through your lungs, you kept moving backwards, the blood red water splashing beneath the soles of your boots until you felt your back hit the pilaster bar of the stall behind you.

You wanted to scream, not wanting to believe what you saw, but your voice became trapped deep within your throat as you gripped onto the stall bar behind you, your palms and your forehead beaded in sweat while the bloody water now came up to your ankles. Removing your terror-stricken eyes from the crimson water at your feet, you glanced up at the mirror ahead in choked gasps to see your frightened tear-stained reflection staring back at you before hearing the voice once more as if the person were right beside you.

“YOU LITTLE BITCH!!!”

And as you stood, eyes wide and muscles frozen in fear, you saw the scar on your cheek split open right before you, revealing the red flesh underneath as blood started to drip down your face.

“YOU LITTLE BITCH!!! IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!!! ALL YOUR FAULT!!!”

A suffocated scream tore itself from the back of your throat as you ran to the bathroom door, tears streaming down your face as you struggled with the door handle, violently jiggling the metal knob beneath your clammy hand as if someone had locked it from the outside.

“YOU LITTLE BITCH!!!! IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!!! YOU’LL PAY FOR THIS!!! ALL YOUR FAULT!!!!! ALL YOUR FAULT!!!! ALL YOUR FAULT!!!!! ALL YOUR FAULT!!!!!!!!!”

“Please please please please please please.” You whimpered out, using both your hands to try to get the door open just as the room seemed to darken around you. Your blood grew cold as you turned around, hearing the sound of the ocean during a violent storm as your eyes landed on the small rectangular window near the roof on the other side, just as what seemed to be a large tidal wave crashed into it before cutting off all the lights and transforming the restroom pitch black. With one strong yank and an outcry from your salty lips, you pulled the door open and nearly launched yourself outside before harshly coming into contact with someone.

You did not care about a single thing at the moment, not even the person you nearly knocked over like a quarterback as you hurried out the nearest entrance of the cafeteria, desperate to get as farthest away from the bathroom’s perimeter as possible until you felt a pair of hands grab you.

“Y/n?!” Sydney pulled you towards her, her grip tight around your arms in an attempt to steady your rattled state as she looked over your tear-stained face. “Jesus. Are you okay? What happened?”

“I-I-“ There was a wild, frenzied look in your eyes as you looked around with uneven, ragged breaths that shook your entire chest. You found yourself somewhere outside the school’s cafeteria, trying to asses your surroundings before staring back into the eyes of your cousin. “Th-th-the-“

“The what? Y/n what the hell happened? You’re scaring me.”

“Th-th-the restroom. The restroom.” You stuttered out, trembling violently within her grasp.

“The restroom?”

“You-you didn’t see?”

“See what?”

“Th-the restroom. The-the voices. You didn’t hear?”

“Y/n I didn’t see or hear anything.”

“You-you-you didn’t?”

“Y/n you’re not making any sense. Are you feeling well?” Sydney looked you over with a deep concern as she placed her hand at your forehead before pulling back with a hiss. “Ow! Jesus Christ! You’re burning up.”

She didn’t see or hear anything? You stared down at your cousin, confusion painted across your paled features before glancing back at the girls restroom that you came out of just as a couple girls went in and out of it as if nothing had happened. Blinking with uncertainty, you reached a hand up to touch your cheek, running your fingers over the groove of your scar before pulling away to see that your fingertips were clean, coated with nothing but sweat. No blood. What the hell was that?

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consistentlyamess · 5 months

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We'll see about that - Chapter 2⎮‘Cause you’ve got too many scars to hide

[4.8K] who?me?getting carried away? never!

pairing(s): steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: You just wanted a fresh start but you might get more than you bargained for when the sleepy town of Hawkins lives up to its reputation.

warnings: takes place after season 4, 18+ , MDNI, slight age gap (reader is like 2 yrs older than Steve), canon typical violence, mentions of a lonely childhood, mentions of difficult relationship with parents, swearing, eventual smut, abusive relationship, brief stancy storyline, strangers to friend to lovers, pining, storm, pnaic attackish happening, mentions of blood and injuries, slowburn, flashbacks in italics, i changed a tiny thing compared to the sneak peek but i think it's better this way, sorry and lmk if i missed anything!!

A/N: HI HELLO!! thank you for your patience and all, it did take a lot longer to churn this chapter out that I expected but here we are!! comments, like reblogs are apprciated as always or just come chat at me! And as always 💜💜💜 TY for reading!!!!💜💜💜 Fic Masterlist Previous Chapter I Next Chapter Coming Soon

‘You sure you have everything?’ Laura asked with a worried look in her eyes.

‘Yeah, I think so. Wasn’t much to begin with really.’ You tried to laugh it off but it came a little broken. A little less careless than you would’ve liked.

‘I’m so sorry I couldn’t do more.’ Laura almost whispered and gave your upper arm a light squeeze. She tried to be encouraging but it was more along the lines of ‘I’m sorry’.

‘You did way more than you ever signed up for Lore. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t even be here right now.’

‘I just-‘ She tried to finish but couldn’t. She just shook her head instead and searched your face a little.

‘How’s your nose?’ She touched the gauze for a second.

‘I’ll be fine Lore. It doesn’t even hurt that much anymore. The doctor said I won’t even be able to see it in a couple of months. The stitches in my eyebrows might show a little. But you’ll have to be really closely. It’s all gonna be fine. I promise.’

She nodded hurriedly, fervently. Willing your words to be true.

‘You’ll call me when you get there?’

‘Of course! And I’ll write and maybe you can come to Hawkins sometime.’ You smiled whistfully. Maybe someday.

‘Okay. Are we completely sure that the old car is taken care of?’

‘Hundred percent, yes. The plate is gone and it was sold like two states away.’ She said a lot more confidently. That they could take care of. The least they could do, she felt like

You took a deep breath.

‘Okay.’

You hugged each other and suddenly it did feel a lot more like saying goodbye. You cried in the past few weeks. A lot. But it was mostly out of frustration. Maybe anger. The sadness of it all you tried to keep hidden, even from yourself. It was too much to bear all at once. You had to keep going and if you let yourself consider the full weight of it all, it might crush you and the hole thing would fall apart. You couldn’t let that happen. For Laura. For your mom. For yourself. You kept it together though, the roared up, you watched Laura disappear in the rearview mirror and your were off. You drove about ten minutes before you had to pull over and cry for a good five minutes, uninterrupted because the tears just kept blurring your vision. This was it. You did it. You got out.

——

Fall arrived with full force in Hawkins in the middle of September. Leaves started ruffling slightly more dryly in the trees, the sun became less punishing, nights started to feel a lot more cozy with a cup of tea in your hand.

You did meet Miss Kelly in the end. As well as the other teachers. Well, the remaining ones. You never really had difficulty with creating connections. You were nice and open to people. You had a good sense of humor and way of putting people at ease fairly quickly. One of the reasons you thought Robin gravitated towards you. The teachers of Hawkins Elementary? Not so much. You, yourself were a little bit rusty. You became a tad more guarded and careful but that was nothing compared to them. They avoided eye contact, dodged every invitation and initiation of conversation. The children were a lot similar. The reward stickers didn’t work, you scaresly got a chuckle or a smile when you made jokes or tried to ease conversation. They came in, they did the work and that was it.

In this environment it didn’t take long for an uneasy feeling of impending doom to set in the pit of your stomach. It was unsettling to say the least. With work kicking in and trying to crack the code to the good graces of your students or at least easing their worries a little you didn’t really have time to hangout with the crew. You shared a coffee with Nancy here and there and you really cherished those mornings. You totally got what Steve saw in her. She was smart and kind and made you feel welcome. But under the demiour exterior she still had a kick to her. Some fire and fierceness that made you quite sure that she could kick anybody’s ass if she wanted to. Will slowly became a regular after classes to hangout, talk about art and get some tips as well. You felt a lingering sadness in him that you were all too familiar with. But you could also feel how he softened up after being shown kindness. It broke your heart a little bit but you were happy to provide those moments of serenity. A little relief feels like a lot at certain times. Jonathan usually picked him up and you chatted sometimes. You felt a kinship with that you couldn’t really place, until it was made clear that their father was also an asshole and he, just like you, was somewhat of a weird kid in high school. Everytime the topic of Nancy came up however, he immediately became more guarded and tried to avoid the subject as much as possible. You were extremely curious but didn’t want to push him.

—-

The third hiccup happens when you and Robin are arguing about a movie at Family video.

‘What? No fucking way, there’s nobody who’s hotter that Pheobe Cates!’

‘Thank you!’ You hear Steve shouting out from in between the rows. Robin gives you a ‘see?’ look.

‘Okay, not the best company, but I do stand by it. Phoebe Cates and maybe Molly Ringwald.’

‘Are you sure you’re straight?’ Robin asks you with a playful tilt in her head. You don’t have a chance to answer because the whole store shakes. It’s an earthquake. You heard about them but never experienced one. Your balance is thrown off, some tapes hit the ground but the shelves stay and for a second you’re not sure if it’s really happening. Robin then disappears behind the counter, Steve calls out and from 83 you to 92 percent certainty that it’s real. Robin emerges, Steve gets back and a blind man wouldn’t miss the look they share.

‘Peach’ Steve comes up behind you. ‘ You okay?’ He asks. He’s holding your elbow and at this point you’re not entirely sure where the disorientation is coming from. He squeezes a little harder. ‘Hey, everything’s alright, we’re all good.’

‘What was that?’ You ask in a voice that’s a little weaker that you’d like it to be.

‘It was an earthquake, they happen here sometimes, we’re all good, but I’m gonna need you to go home now, okay?’

‘But-’

‘No! Sorry, but no.’ you can feel the way he softens from one second to the other. ‘No, I need you to go home. We know how to handle this, we’ll check in tomorrow and everything will be fine, but you have to go home. Please.’ He’s pleading and the honey brown eyes have their charm whether you’re willing to admit or not. You tell yourself that he’s right. That you’re gonna be safer at home.

So you go. While you’re driving home a storm breaks out. And not just any storm. It was properly raging. Lighting after lightning came down from the sky and the thunders were just sort of blending into each other. You fucking hated storms. The wind was howling and the second you got into the apartment, you cowered away into the corner of your living room. How did it get so bad, so quickly? How was this even possible? Was this the curse everybody was talking about? Catching yourself in the whirlpool of your thoughts, you gripped your knees tighter to your chest. What a fucking pathetic sight, you thought to yourself. It’s just a fucking storm and you’re crouching in the corner like a frightened puppy. Look at yourself, and you think, you can take care of yourself. Adorable. It made your skin crawl because it was him talking. It was his words, his voice, even without him you had him in your head. Grabbing at the sides of your head you tried to stop it. Tried to physically squeeze the thoughts out. But it didn’t work. Turning the TV on also didn’t help much. Your breath quickened, you could feel your heartbeat in your ears and the tears started flowing down your face. You don’t have a sense of time anymore. It might have been a few minutes, it might have been hours. You don’t even have it in you to glance at your watch.

‘Nonononono’ you practically whined. ‘No, please, stop it. Just stop it please.’ The storm, this feeling, the fear, all of it. You couldn’t drown it out and it made you feel paralyzed but also clenching all your muscles at the same time. Laura told you that her therapist suggested a check-in with herself about every 30 minutes to unclench her jaw. She told you it really helped her. You tried. You really did. But you couldn’t tell your jaw from your shoulders anymore and nothing worked.

Another shock came to your system when there was a knock at the door. Everything became even more blurred around you and you thought you might throw up. You wanted to go get the gun but you couldn’t move.

‘Go away!’ It was a guttural scream. It came from somewhere deep and instinctual that has been secluded for so long. You were sobbing at this point and then you heard it. Through everything, you still heard it.

‘Peach?! Is that you? It’s Steve. Are you hurt? Can you open the door?’

Steve. It clicks in your brain and you could swear your heart stopped the same second the thunder and lightning miss a beat. Everything is quiet just in that second and you feel like the world changes settings just for you. Like a personal little raining cloud fizzles, disappears and a warm light appears above your head that starts to melt your frozen limbs and fried out nerve endings. Your movements are still rigid but you feel your fingers twitch.

‘Steve-‘ You whisper in front of yourself and lean forward. He knocks again and you call out a little louder this time. Shedding your blanket, your body starts cooperating. Just keep crawling toward the warm voice. Still, by the time you make it to the door, he’s saying he will break it down if he has to and is not leaving until he sees you.

The door opens up and he’s standing there, relief washing over him when he lays eyes on you, just to quickly be replaced by concern again.

‘Hey, what happened, ‘re you okay?’ He wants to hold you so bad but for now is satisfied with finding your fingers in the dark and touching them. You nod, as best as you can, which admittedly is not very good.

‘W-why didn’t you ca-call?’ You ask just to regret it with the next breath because your throat and voice are wrecked from the sobbing.

‘Phone lines are out. I also didn’t want to spook you. The last time you got a phone call, you acted a little funny...’ He gets it out in one breath, rushing through the sentence. ‘What happened, did you get hurt?’ He looked you over, searching for something. Teared fabric, blood, something. You put your hands on his shoulder in an attempt to calm or at least slow him down and it only registers properly then that he’s fully drenched.

‘Shit, you’re completely soaked through! Come in, let’s get you dry.’ You’re still unsure of your movements but you usher him in, despite his muffled and somewhat weak protests. He wanted to stay but unlike you he did have some teared fabric and blood on him that you were yet to notice. He didn’t want you to see that but he did crave some comfort after watching Nancy holding Jonathan’s hand while Robin patched him up. He was selfish, he knew that. He tried to tell himself that it has to mean something that after his arm was bitten by a demobat his first thought was to check on you on his way home. He just wanted to see your house, maybe some lights, possibly you moving in front of a window. But he couldn’t see anything other than the flickering of the TV and after the night he didn’t take it as a good sign. Or just really wanted to see you. He thinks both might be possible, even if the letter might make him a little creepy.

You lead him to the bathroom, the new purpose giving a little stillness to your limbs and voice.

‘I can put your clothes in the drier for a quick round and get you something to change into. The guy who lived here left some st- Jesus fucking Christ what the hell happened to you?’ the moment you turned on the light you saw it. The cuts, the bruises, the blood, some dried, some fresh.

‘You should see the other guy’ he tried to give you a cheeky smile but you could tell he was hurting.

‘Did you get into a fight? Who did this?’

‘Yeah, something like that. But I’m gonna be fine, I promise, I’ve had much worse. Ask anyone, Dustin we’ll gladly tell you about every single time I got my ass handed to me.’ His face is hurting, he’s cold but all he can think about at this moment is that he hates you’re worrying about him. He hates the way your eyebrows crease together as you try to assess the damage he’s taken. He hates the way your hands hesitate to reach out. You clearly had a rough night yourself and he hates he’s making it worse. You open your mouth like you’re gonna say something but it closes again.

‘Okay’ you say finally. ‘Sit down, I’ll get the first aid kit.’

He’s dumbfounded for a moment but ultimately glad you’re not asking questions. He’s agitated, he’s scared, he’s alone and he doesn’t trust himself with keeping a secret now. If you start asking it might all just spill out from him which he desperately wants to avoid. You can’t get anywhere near this. Well, not any nearer.

You come back with hands full of stuff - dry clothes hanging off of your arm, a glass of water in your hand, the first aid kit in the other.

‘Here’ you start by handing him the water. After laying the clothes on the side of the tub, you hand him an aspirin. ‘This’ll take care of the pain for now. You can take a shower if you want to, then I’ll disinfect your wounds, get some bandages and if you get a good night’s sleep, you’ll be better by tomorrow.’ You spoke so softly, he immediately calmed down and for a moment even forgot that he just barged in on you, on your weekend no less. He forgot to look away for a second though and his eyes started searching yours. Your face was puffy, your eyes were red and there were some sniffles here and there.

‘Were you crying before I got here?’

‘Thank you usually works in this situation.’

‘Shit, I’m sorry, I am very thankful but I came here in the first place to make sure you were okay and as far as I can tell, you’re not.’

‘I- It’s just… I fucking hate storms.’ Your arms come up, wrapping around yourself. Not being able to hold his gaze you glance down to the tiles and take a deep breath. ‘I’ll be fine, I just want it to be over.’ You start moving for the first aid kit. ‘But you’re a pretty good distraction, so let’s get you cleaned up, shell we?’ You leave him to change and when you go back he’s sitting on the top of the closed toilet waiting for you. You’re meticulous but soft, determined but attentive and the way you balance the disinfectant, the cotton pads is almost hypnotic to him. In return the sense of purpose anchors you and you’re able to tune out almost everything that’s not connected to helping Steve. When you get to a particularly nasty cut above his eyebrow, he hisses.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m almost done.’

‘No, you’re okay, this is what you’re supposed to do, right?’ He quotes you back to you and even as his eyes are shut tight you can tell that his face is about an inch away from slipping into a smug grin. He makes you chuckle and he swears it’s a better painkiller than the actual pill you gave him.

‘Okay, there are a couple of pretty deep cuts here. I’m gonna need you to hold still. Hold onto something and tell me about a good memory.’

‘A good memory?’

‘Yeah. I learned it with kids. When I have to tend to them, making them talk keeps their mind occupied and lets me apply the disinfectant or put a bandaid on.’

‘Huh, that’s smart’ he looks up at you with a goofy grin and sparkling eyes and you have to clear your throat to remind yourself what you were doing.

‘So, good memory. You have anything?’

‘Yeah, sorry, yeah, I got it. Do your worst.’

‘Alright, start talking, pretty boy.’ The nickname slips out so effortlessly, you almost don’t notice it. The way his lips part a little and the tip of his ears run pink clues you in that you did indeed say it out loud and he did hear you.

‘Uhm, yeah, I, uh, the first thing that came to mind was the day I got my car. And before you roll your eyes, I know how it sounds and for a long time it was like that. Being the only 17 year old who was driving around in a brand new BMW instead of a banged up used car my parents passed down was pretty sweet. It was a guilt present from my dad because he forgot my birthday that year.’ A peng of pain hits your heart. He doesn’t sound very hurt now but you can imagine it wasn’t always like this. ‘I could drive my friends and girls around and it did feel like a sanctuary sometimes. Then those friends turned out to be not very good people, the girls turned out to be more interested in the car and pool in the backyard than me and shit happened and I got my heart broken and then I started driving this little shithead around and the car didn’t change and I basically still just drive people around but those people happen to really like me, for god knows why, and it got us out of some deep shit and I’m actually afraid of the day when it breaks down finally or I have to sell it or anything because half of my goddamn life is in that car.’ You pull away as he finishes his story and let his hair fall back to his forehead. You move back for a second to wipe a stray lock away from his eyes and then lean back to the sink. Your voice is barely above whisper as you speak again.

‘You’re all done.’ He touches his face carefully and you watch him with soft eyes. ‘Thank you for telling me that. Technically it wasn’t one memory but I’ll let it slide for now.’

His smiles.

‘What about you?’

‘What about me?’ You ask, tilting your head, crossing your arms.

‘A good memory. I just laid my heart out for you, it would make me feel better if I wasn’t the only one.’

‘Okay, first of all, you told a semi-moving story about how much you love your car, ‘laying your heart out’ is a tad dramatic.’ You start packing the stuff you spread around the bathroom. ‘Second of all, I don’t need to be cleaned up or distracted, so maybe next time.’

‘Well, that’s not fair! C’mon, just one, just a tiny little story.’

‘God, you’re unbearable!’ You roll your eyes playfully. ‘This wasn’t part of the agreement and-’ You don’t get to finish the sentence because there’s a particularly loud crash, thunder and lightning coming down with a real fury. You jump with a gasp bumping your knee on the side of the tub.

‘Fuck’

‘Hey, hey, hey,’ Steve calls, coming up behind you. ‘You’re okay, it’s okay, it’s just a storm.’ He turns you to face him so he can find your eyes. He’s lying through his teeth but he needs you to believe that it’s just a storm. You’re too smart and stubborn for your own good. He can’t slip.

‘I just really fucking hate storms.’ You say as you lay your forehead on his shoulder.

‘Yeah, I got that.’ He’s careful, he holds you so lightly because he’s scared you’re gonna come to your senses and pull away before he can properly figure out which floral scent is coming from your hair and which one is your perfume and can properly memorize the little baby hair on the nape of your neck or imagine how it would feel to be tickled by them in the morning.

‘Just breath, I’m here. And maybe if you need some distraction, you could tell me about that good memory, now?’

You don’t look up, but you chuckle a little.

‘Well, when I was a little girl there was this treehouse in the neighbor's yard. I was so jealous of it, I wanted it to have one so badly, or just go up in it, just once. But the house was mostly vacant and I got caught by my mom one time when I was trying to climb the fence, so I just stared at it and wished that someday, maybe I could play in it.’

Your voice was a little muffled because you were talking at the bathroom tiles but Steve was listening intently. He pictured you with a petulant little pout, sitting in a garden, burning holes in the treehouse with your eyes. It made him smile.

‘And then one day, out of nowhere, a family moved in. They had a daughter, Lilly, and she just invited me over one day when she saw me in the garden. We played and talked and given it’s not that hard to make friends when you’re eight, we did become inseparable almost instantly. I had such a good time, I almost forgot about the treehouse. I would’ve been happy to just spend the whole afternoon curled up in the grass, talking but then she said she wanted to show me her treehouse and I nearly started crying, I was so excited. We went up and it was everything I wanted and more. I think that was the highest I’ve ever been at that point, I could see the whole neighborhood and it felt like nothing could touch me there.’

‘We spent so much time there. It became like a sanctuary too. We went there when we got our first crushes, when she got yelled at, when we wanted to feel safe. On some summer nights we even slept out there and I think those were the best nights of my life.’

During your story Steve was stroking your arm up and down, soothing you, saying with every touch ‘I’m here, I’m not going anywhere, I’ll be your new treehouse, all you have to do is ask me’.

‘Technically that wasn’t one memory either but I liked it, so I’m gonna let you get away with it.’ He squeezes your arm one last time and lets go slowly, trying to get you to look up at him.

‘The storm passed I think. It’s just the rain now.’

‘Is it gonna come back?’

‘I’m not sure. Maybe. Hawkins has some weird weather sometimes.’

‘Hawkins seems to have weird everything sometimes.’

‘Yeah, that’s fair.’

With the weather getting back to something you can handle and the house quiet with the dim lights of the bathroom it starts hitting you how close the two of you are standing and how this whole thing has been very, well, for lack of a better word, cozy. Even if it was only the instinct to help someone, he quite literally saved your night. Maybe even you. You’re wondering why exactly he came here in the first place and you find some kind of answer in the way he's looking at you, the way he stayed with you in the storm. It’s the same need to take care of people. It’s the driving the little shitheads around even though they really are shitheads, it’s the trying to distract someone from pain and hurt by making them think about something nice, something happy, it’s the holding a burned hand under cold water and it’s the swiping a lock of hair away so it doesn’t land in their eyes. It’s not something that just leaves you. Heartbreaks and grief can suppress it for a while but the world has a funny way of bringing it out again in the most unexpected moments. Like in a tiny, poorly lit bathroom during a storm from hell, trying to wipe the blood from the cheekbones of the prettiest boy. You inhale sharply because your insistence to keep your distance might be wavering and you know it’s a bad idea. Steve’s still into Nancy, Nancy’s with Jonathan, Jonathan is acting weird, well, everyone’s acting weird. But you keep looking at each other and you’re almost a hundred percent sure, he has similar thoughts running through his mind.

‘I uh, I should go, I think, I don’t want to bother you anymore.’ He starts talking finally, running a hand down the back of his neck.

‘You weren’t bothering me. If it wasn’t for you I would still be curled up in the corner of my living room.’

‘I can, you know, I can stay too. In a completely non-creepy way. I just wanna make sure you’re okay. I’ll gladly keep on distracting all night if needed.’

You don’t miss the slight double-entendre painting the words and you raise an eyebrow.

‘In a non-creepy way, huh?’ He gets flustered when he fully understands what you mean and what he just said. He’s about to start protesting but his nerves prevent him from being quick on his feet. You save him, mercifully.

‘I know what you mean, relax. And thank you, it’s very knight in shining armor of you but I’ll be okay now. You should go home, take a hot shower, drink some tea and get into bed. I’ll throw your clothes in the drier and get them back to you.’

‘Alright, yeah, you’re right. Thank you for taking care of me, Peach. You’re a lot better at this than I am or god forbid Robin.’

‘It’s alright. Thank you for distracting me, Harrington!’

‘Back to second names? Really? After all we’ve been through in the last like two hours?’

‘I mean, I gotta be careful. Can’t call you everytime there’s a storm, now can I? Gotta keep it professional.’

‘You can. You can call me in every storm. You can call me without a storm too, I left my number for a reason.’ You wince a little.

‘Yeah, sorry I haven’t called, I guess. I’ve just been so busy with school and everything.’ You couldn’t let him know that you tried. You tried so many times but chickened out at the last second every single time.

‘It’s okay. I can wait. You know where to find me.’

He starts walking towards the door and you follow him out. You fall back into silence again, listening to the rain on the roof and the remains of the wind quietly howling outside.

‘Most of the bandages will last like a week I think but you should change the one above your eyebrow and the one on your left cheek sometime tomorrow.’

‘Thanks Doc. And seriously, call me if you need anything.’

‘Okay.’ You whisper with a soft smile.

‘Good night, sweetheart. Get some sleep.’ He says as he comes close to you. He hesitates for a minute and then presses a barely there kiss to your hairline.

‘Good night’ you whisper back.

You clock the slight pause after he gets in the car and you watch as the maroon BMW leave. You wonder if this is going to be one of those moments you regret, wishing you could say what you wanted to say, wishing you could just ask him to stay or one of those moments you’ll see as dodging a bullet, wishing you could see everything in that moment.

#steve harrington fic #stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington slowburn #robin buckley #robin stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #nancy wheeler #nancy stranger things #jonathan byers #jonathan stranger things #argyle stranger things #we'll see about that #WSAT #WSAT fic

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nevloveslemons · 7 months

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Falling For the Saint (Clive Babineaux x Reader Insert)

Tags?: AFAB Reader, Clutzy reader, Season 1-2 ish, reader type to try and quietly eat at 4 am and end up accidentally walking up everyone, Fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, I’m giving you a name a personality, Pink haired insert (dyed,) ummmmmm I dunno let’s feel the vibe. probably many police precinct inaccuracies.

Today was going abnormally slow today, like usual. From the moment Clive hit his snooze button at 5, he decided today was going to be low key. Today somehow drained him, thinking about what whacky personality trait ‘Liv’s going to have today from trying to bring up the missing kids to his Lieutenant, from deciding what stale donut he’ll snack on for ‘lunch’ because he forgot his homemade packed lunch in the fridge somehow. (He even sat on the couch for 5 minutes just sitting.)

after getting ready and getting his holy grail; black coffee (he hate’s the stereotype of cops; donuts, plain coffee because they can’t afford the time, stiff posture, proper, despite showing many of them.) He walked into the precinct, unconsciously checking to see if everything’s under control and calm, which it was not.

In the bullpen he noticed an abundance of his fellow detectives here ON time with is unusual as his superiors aren’t as strict as they should be when it comes to being on time. He passed through the gate and saw his co-workers surrounding someone. You. He pauses, he’s never seen someone so… colourful?

You’re clad in a cat-red, maxi skirt with matching coloured beret and pumps. You had a black and white pocadot blouse with small-medium, poofy sleeves. Even your makeup was bold, bold but colourful, his mind actually went to Marilyn Monroe. Your lips were glossy and red, blush a cool rouge, your cat eyeliner and eye makeup drew him in, kin to the characters he had a crush on as a child in animation movies.

He realized after analyzing your outfit he was being creepy. He quickly snapped his head away from your being and started towards his desk. “Clive! Clive!” One of his co-workers grabbed his jacket with their fingers. He was surprised but held his strong expression, instead letting an exasperated looking face whilst raising his eyebrows, waiting for an answer. “Have you met Beth?” They asked with excitement clear in their tone.

“Uh, no considering I just walked through the gates.” He answered. His tone coming out bored and annoyed, he was a tad annoyed; yes, but it was mainly just his tone/being. He wasn’t trying to sound like this. “We’ll turn your frown upside down” he couldn’t resist, he rolled his eyes. “She’s so bright honestly! A bit of a clutz; I moved in everyones mugs away from the edge of their desks, but she just got transferred from the 99th precinct!” They then pull him to the box of muffins that caught his attention. (other than you lol, if i got to- man now I want a Timmies blueberry muffin :()

“Beth brought these in as a like ‘token of appreciation?’ If we cops were doing that pretty sure we’re supposed to but, eh?”

Pumpkin-Walnut. Acquired.

After his brunch muffin he did a bit of paper work, some back and forth between his desk, the board, and the morgue and by time you know it. It’s lunch. Like stated, brunch muffin, Clive thinks it’s okay to make breakfast count as lunch (8-10 bfast 11-1 lunch, he had his muffin at 7 and hasn’t eaten since.) He was sitting at his desk, leaning his chin on his right hand whilst closing his eyes and not thinking… just, sitting? Then he could feel someone approach him so he eyed his eyes to see you. The Newbie.

“Hello, Detective Babineaux, I’m Elizabeth Johnson. I transferred here from the Nine-Nine and according to our Lieutenant, you’ve been put on my ‘babysitting?’” He looks at you whilst you explain your being there when he hears a rather loud, gurgle. His eyes go from yours to your stomach and back to yours, once he sees your face he notices how quickly you flushed.

“Ah, I apologize. I forgot my lunch at home and planned to have a muffin for lunch only to find them gone.” You let a small chuckle out and let your eyes wonder to anywhere but Clive’s eyes.

“I guess you and I are in the same boat, huh?” He says in hopes of settling some of your embarrassment.

“Oh! You forgot your lunch too?” Your eyes light up, seemingly forgetting about your former emotion. “Uh, yeah-“ He begins going on about what he had packed for lunch. You two talked the duration just about food. You’re not sure how, it went from your lunches and how you wish you had them to the containers their in to the spices and seasonings used. Clive doesn’t realize it but he started to smile when talking to you.

(First time writing on here…..)

#izombie x reader #clive babineaux #izombiereaderinsert

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tamtam-go92 · 5 months

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Back in the roaring center of Emerald Height lives our next family - and it's a pretty big one!

King-Montes

Gabriela never expected to fall in love again after her first husband died. David asked Gabriela to marry him because he knew their families belonged together. If only Maribel and Raneka got along better... Will they be a happy family or will something break them apart? And when will Maribel reveal her family about the secret feelings she has for Holly?

David asked Gabriela to marry him because he knew their families belonged together. But it seems like he's been waiting forever to get married! At first, things were too busy at work, and then Litzy came, and now David is starting to wonder if he'll ever see Gabriela walk down the aisle.

David King: male, adult, Sim Family/Popularity (Have 6 Grandchildren) Aries (4/7/5/3/6) Unemployed, OTH: Music and Dance Traits: Natural Born Performer, Disciplined, Colorblind, Jealous, Dog Person

Raneka's sick of sharing space with that slob! Daddy hasn't paid her any attention since they moved into this big, red, chicken coop of a house. Mom wouldn't make her share a room, no way.

Raneka King: female, teenager, Sim Popularity (Become Celebrity Chef) Aries (8/9/3/3/2) Private School, OTH: Cuisine Traits: Social Butterfly, Neat, Vegetarian, Cat Person

When her first husband died, Gabriela brought her family to Emerald Heights for better educational opportunities and a fresh start. Now she's working at LaFontaine Memorial Hospital as an anesthesiologist. She never expected to fall in love again, but who wouldn't love David?

Gabriela Montes: female, adult, Sim Fortune/Popularity (Become Business Tycoon) Aries (4/8/5/1/7) Medicine Career, OTH: Music and Dance Traits: Childish, Self-Assured, Pianist, Workaholic, Equestian

Living with her sister's family suits Genesis just fine — you meet everyone, when you're just minutes from all the downtown hotspots! Someone's got to take Maribel in hand, though, or she'll never get out of the house. She could use a little spoiling from her favorite aunt!

Genesis Montes: female, adult, Sim Romance/Pleasure (Have 20 simultaneous Lovers) Capricorn (8/7/1/3/6) Culinary Career, OTH: Cuisine Traits: Loves the Cold, Proper, Glutton, Great Kisser, Party Animal

For a while now, this old house has felt too crowded to breathe. But being out with strangers is worse! Maribel is glad at least Tia Geni listens to her — she hasn't gotten up the courage to tell Mami about Holly, yet.

Maribel Montes: female, teenager, Sim Popularity (Have 20 simultaneous best friends) Aquarius (2/1/5/7/10) Private School, OTH: Tinkering Traits: Cheerful, Unlucky, Perfectionist, Dog Person

If Josue closes his eyes and remembers real hard, he can still smell Papi's cigarros and hear the coqui. He can't help feeling that if he could only just go back home — really home — Papi would still be there. It's better than trying to fit into this mixed-up city with his mixed-up family.

Josue Montes: male, child, Sim Grow up Scorpio (6/5/10/2/2) Private School, OTH: Sports Traits: Adventurous, Supernatural Skeptic, Match Enthusiast

Papi call Mami queen. Litzy pretty like Mami. Litzy queen too. Yay Queen Litzy!

Litzy Montes: female, toddler, Sim Grow up Leo (0/10/5/10/0) Traits: Outgoing, Clumsy

Challenges rolled for: - round: Local lottery winner: Your sims win a small prize on the lottery. Add d8* 100 to their family funds. - season: Private School: Invite the headmaster over and try to get the children into private school. - Business failure: Turns out your business wasn't as successful as you thought it was. Lay off all employees, close a business, and figure out what to do next. Not allowed to open a new business for two seasons but can continue with existing businesses. -> Once Litzy becomes a child, he parents will try to get her into private school too!

#the sims 2 #the custom uberhood #emerald heights #king-montes family #david king #raneka king #gabriela montes #genesis montes #maribel montes #josue montes #litzy montes #round 1 #introduction post

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balsamfir-fics · 2 years

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a hope at risk (part 3)

Genres: angst, 99% canon (eps 6-9), more angst, smut, established childhood crushes to strangers to lovers, post-pining, becoming machine herald (sort of)

Pairing: Viktor/Female Reader

Warnings: Sky’s character death in this chapter.

Summary: For nearly two decades after you waltzed out of Viktor's life as the childhood friend who broke his heart, he hoped to forget you. Now that you're back, firmly settled in his life and his arms, he wants nothing more than to live, to love, to dream. With a terminal diagnosis you've yet to learn about in a city waiting to erupt into war, however, Viktor realizes this is a fight for survival against all odds. But he can't lose you again. He won't. He hopes.

Chapters: Prelude | Part 1 | Part 2 [M] | Part 3 | Part 4 [FINAL]

Chapter Word Count: ~5.3k

Author Notes: Unedited. Sequel to a hope never forgotten. This work can be read independently of its predecessor – though reading that first will more thoroughly contextualize Viktor and YN’s relationship. Prequel summarized below for those who don’t have time to read it!

Prequel summary: If you are reading this without having seen the previous work, this is the debrief: YN is Heimerdinger’s adopted daughter; YN and Viktor are childhood friends who grew up together between the ages of 10-16 and separated at 16 immediately after an unspoken confession of love. The uncertainty and cowardice of youth prevent YN from keeping contact until twelve years pass. Over the next five years the two keep orbiting each other, gravity pulling them closer, until Viktor’s hospital stint as per Episode 5 forces YN to reckon with their lifetime of love. The end of A Hope Never Forgotten sees Viktor’s seventeen-year-long hope and longing fulfilled.

A Hope Never Forgotten follows Arcane canon up to Episode 5; this work will follow Arcane canon until the end of all currently available content (Episode 9). This piece borrows themes from prior League of Legends lore, but following the events of Episode 9 it will become an imagined ‘what comes next’ as we wait for the events of Season 2.

The prior work deals primarily with holding onto hope; this one deals with themes of loss and survival. Both are about decisions made and avoided.

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Bolstered by your simple wish for him to be physically restored and recovered, Viktor spins his wheels and heads right back to the lab. He scribbles more notes, questions his science, then scribbles some more. When he thinks he’s finally ready to take the plunge, he lifts his scalpel with shaking fingers. He’s not nervous; that’s not what it is. He’s hopeful—hopeful that this technology might save him, that he might be given a new lease on life. It’s with this trembling anticipation that he etches fresh runes all over his remaining skin, glancing every few minutes at the shining purple liquid in his syringe gun. It’d only be one more time, he reasons with himself. If my calculations are correct, I won’t ever need to take Shimmer again. It’s for her—no. It’s for us. For me. For our future. The Hexcore whirrs and shivers. It beckons to Viktor; he stares into its light. It takes effort to tear his gaze away and focus on the runes, but he manages to do so, one painstaking cut at a time. Footsteps echo in the hallway, but he doesn’t hear them above the buzzing of the Hexcore. Runes complete, Viktor stands with a grunt. His breathing is labored. Adrenaline pulses through every fiber of his being, every neuron willing this to work, every cell craving more of the heady hope and alluring pull the Hexcore gives. He takes a deep inhale to brace himself for the pain he knows will come, drags the scalpel through his palm, and slowly extends his arm towards gleaming light. It wants him, and he wants everything it can give him. A beat of silence passes through the room. Then everything explodes in a burst of light. It’s every bit as excruciating as the first time, if not more. Time both slows to a standstill and speeds up to oblivion around him; he’s vaguely aware of papers flying and wind howling. All he knows for sure is that something white-hot is blazing up his arm and through his body, ripping his cells apart and bringing them back together in something new, deadly, less-than (or more-than?)-human. His mouth is probably open. He doesn’t know. Maybe his teeth are gritted; there’s definitely a sharp pain in his jaw, but Viktor can’t exactly tell where his reactionary pain starts and the Hexcore torture begins. Something clatters behind him. Makes sense; this miniature tornado he’s more or less brought upon himself seems to be throwing things around the room amidst the screaming torrents. But then he feels a ring of warmth around his waist. He barely registers it at first, but it’s there. Whatever energy is pulsating from the Hexcore recoils against it, lashing out at him from within his body. He thinks he might be letting out an inhuman scream, but he’s not sure. For now, he tries to focus on the new sensation. He feels himself being pulled away, fingers now inches away from the Hexcore instead of directly atop it, but somewhere, a string snaps, and he’s dragged right back to where he was. Viktor strains against the pull of the Hexcore and fights the pressure to look down at his waist; his eyes widen in horror as he sees his assistant, Sky, clutching to him in an attempt to decouple him from the electromagnetic rune matrix. Sky looks up at him, fear evident in her irises. He blinks back, unable to tear his gaze away as she desperately screams his name. She looks unreal, like a photograph being torn apart one paper fiber at a time, and she disappears before his eyes. A loud pop sounds and he vaguely makes out the dark silhouette of a human-shaped form, but in the next second, Sky is gone, completely disintegrated. The shadowy silhouette is gone. Pain sears through his arm as the Hexcore screams louder. NO! Viktor heads himself yell back in his brain, the word rattling against his skull. The Hexcore seems not to like that, vibrating intensely beneath his grasp before everything goes white. ————— When consciousness returns to him this time, Viktor finds himself sprawled on the floor. Electricity flickers through his leg, then absorbs into his body. It takes him a few pained seconds to heave himself off of the floor. As his brain follows suit and kicks back into drive, his eyes catch the glint of flickering light against two panes of glass. No. “Sky?” He laboriously scrabbles towards the gold-rimmed spectacles. “No! That can’t…” Viktor swallows thickly and pushes himself back into a seated position, his body torn between wanting to run from the evidence of his wrongdoing and to run towards the destruction in disbelief. As Sky’s ashes run through his fingers, his brilliant brain puts everything together. He reads page after page of her notes, recognizing the affection and deep respect she had for him, and the pit of guilt in his chest builds into a chasm. She was dead, and it was his fault. A wretched cry of anger erupts from his chest and he scrambles to his feet. He lifts his workbench stool and lifts it over his head with strength he didn’t know he had. Glaring down at the living purple thing, he challenges it—it shakes and sends back an equally belligerent message. It had to be destroyed. He tries to bring down his arms to send the stool crashing into the accursed energy, but his arms disagree with him. He can’t do it. It won’t let him. He won’t let himself. Strength fading, he drops the stool and tries to walk away, but the thing snarls and hums behind him. Something pops and he loses one second of consciousness, crashing to the floor and clutching his leg in pain. Energy surges through his modified limbs, and the Hexcore seems to shiver in contentment. It beckons to him all the same, calling him, taunting him, knowing he wants the secrets it has. But Viktor glares up at it from the floor, gritting his teeth and doing his best to resist its allure. —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Viktor arrives at the apartment in the early morning looking haunted; you only recall this later on when trying to piece everything together. But at present, you’re too sleepy to be that cognizant of your surroundings—in fact, if Viktor hadn’t dropped his crutch while rummaging around for a fresh handkerchief, you never would have woken up. A glance at your clock told you it was right before dawn. You mumble some incoherent question at Viktor, who merely presses trembling lips to your forehead and whispers for you to ‘rest peacefully, Sparrow’ in a shaky voice. He leaves the house as quickly as he’d arrived. You settle easily back into dreamless sleep, unaware of the turmoil churning within him—just as he’d intended. A few minutes past sunrise, he says his final goodbyes to Sky. Regret rips through his nervous system, tensing and relaxing his muscles in a strange dance. Every fiber of his being screams at him; WRONG WRONG WRONG! MURDERER! If his body had the energy to produce more tears, it would have, but he is spent, terrified, and beyond remorse. “I don’t know what you’d have preferred,” he mumbles to the warming morning air. He stretches a feeble arm out to collect Sky’s glasses and notebook, then he painstakingly hoists himself back onto his feet. His lungs protest by triggering more coughs; he lifts his freshly retrieved handkerchief but no sputum comes out. Crumpling the fabric in his palm, he makes to leave, then pauses. He steps back towards his seat. Viktor peers over the ledge. A precipice indeed, he thinks wryly to himself; the metaphorical edge he’d been dancing with since you came back into his life had been turned to reality. He faces his end. Perhaps it would be kinder to Sky’s memory, to you, and to himself to… expedite the process. Let him fade into your memory as he preferred to be remembered, and let him pay the price Sky never should have. Both Hextech and the Hexcore had become weapons; his life’s effort had all been for everything he stood against in the end: fear and pain instead of servitude and good. Heimerdinger had been right. It was foolish for him and Jayce to have failed to understand the wisdom of their mentor. He, and Jayce, had failed. The rushing sound of the swirling water below beckons to him, and he almost heeds its call. “Am I interrupting?” Viktor starts, stepping back away from the ledge in surprise. The waterfall below fades away as he registers Jayce’ voice; he tucks away Sky’s notes under his arm and turns towards his longtime collaborator and friend. He notes the hammer leaning against the entryway as Jayce takes a seat. Beneath him, the mechanized leg is heavy (though supportive); Viktor leans heavily into his crutch not because of his musculoskeletal shortcomings but rather the malaise that seeps deep into his bones and drains him of life. It is not lost on Viktor that he’d posed a similar question, years ago, talking the younger man down from his own cliff. Jayce brings up something from long ago—a Distinguished Innovators’ Competition that Viktor recalls being so excited for. He chuckles at the memory; flashes of an outrageously overtaxed engine come to mind, with laborious screeching and an intense fear that machinery would go flying. The acrid taste of bile rises in Viktor’s throat; a different memory of the same day, in which he’d failed to keep his meal down due to nerves and stress. “At least you didn’t throw up,” Viktor lets out a whisper of a laugh. Something in Jayce’ chest cracks as he hears the frailty and exhaustion in Viktor’s voice. Jayce offers a platitude. “Everything made sense then.” The lamentation is clear. Everything is different now, tangled in the complexities of politicking and competing interests. Viktor inhales, exhales. “You have to destroy it.” Jayce’ response is immediate. He glances at his hammer, his own mind reminding him the sins that great power is capable of. “I know—“ “—the Hexcore.” The look Jayce gives Viktor is equal parts alarmed, incredulous, and chastened. “I… I can’t do it. You have to.” Viktor pauses, then pleads. “Please.” The councilman protests at once. Surely there must be a reason to keep it; Viktor was still ailing! Heimerdinger’s cautious advice be damned. Viktor’s disease was advancing faster than any Piltovan medicine could correct. A biologically responsive Hexcore could be the answer—how could Viktor suggest to destroy it? But Viktor merely lets another series of ragged coughs tear through his lungs, then urges Jayce to promise to follow through. Every instinct in his body tells Jayce not to agree, but who is he to fight against a dying man’s wishes? “We failed to do good,” Viktor murmurs as Jayce stands, placing one large hand on the ailing man’s shoulder. “We have to make it right.” Jayce is silent for a few beats. He squeezes Viktor’s shoulder, then releases. “Have you made it right by her?” Viktor swallows. His lack of response is answer enough. “I will tell her… soon.” Looking unconvinced, but broken, Jayce sighs. He wraps his fingers around the hammer and leaves Viktor to his ruminations. —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Viktor putters around the apartment looking worse for wear, which is saying a lot when he’s been so gaunt since he first returned home from the hospital several months ago. He spends a few days completely asleep, to the point that you nearly call his doctor for help — but he stops you short of marching off to the hospital yourself. The turnaround in his mood is jarring; not days ago he’d been almost bouncing around despite his malaise, excited at the prospect of discovery. He’d been at the lab for long, but reasonable workdays, and had been reasonably upbeat for someone with such a nasty, persistent cough. But the past few days at home had been upsetting. Viktor lived for the lab, and hated to oversleep unless something entertaining in the bedroom had expended his energy the night before; his behavior was thus uncharacteristic and frankly more worrying than his mood had been after his fainting spell. “I’m fine,” he tells you unconvincingly, but agrees to get up for quick meals of easy-to-digest soup. After each meal, he heads back to bed and broods until fitful sleep takes him. You’ve asked what might be the matter, but the pain in Viktor’s eyes leaves you feeling raw and uncomfortable. You wish for him to talk to you about it, to let you share in his pain, but you’ve learned better from prior arguments to wait until he comes to you first. " At least, that’s what you plan for. But nothing prepared you for the full truth. ————— Viktor tosses and turns in his sleep as you wander into the bedroom, hoping that he might be awake for a small lunch. His brows furrow deep into his forehead as sweat beads on his face. He looks deathly pale, and he clutches at demons in his slumber. You want to wake him, but it might be more jarring to interrupt a nightmare than to wait for its resolution, so you reach for his pillow to try and adjust his head into a more comfortable, less tense angle. As you ease his head back into a reasonable position, something clatters to the floor from beneath his pillow. You stoop to pick it up, recognizing it as a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. Curious. One lens is cracked beyond repair; whoever lost these has a hefty re-lensing bill to pay in their future. You place the glasses on the nightstand near Viktor before heading back for the kitchen, wondering why he’d been keeping a pair of broken spectacles hidden. But you think nothing of it for now, more focused on keeping Viktor’s lunch warm for when he eventually emerges for the comfort of hot soup. ————— Days later, you walk in to replace the bedsheets while Viktor naps on the couch — it hits you then why the glasses seemed so familiar. Hadn’t Viktor’s head lab assistant, Sky, worn a pair like this? You were fairly confident that the most obvious answer to the question of why another person’s items were hidden beneath his pillow (infidelity) was, in fact, not the case (and especially so considering the glasses were broken), so you wondered what Viktor’s reasoning might be. Your mind lands on a much more logical hypothesis; an experiment must have gone awry at Viktor’s doing, and he’d meant to get her glasses repaired in apology. You smile to yourself, falling a little more for the kindness you had always loved in Viktor. As you strip the pillows and pull back the covers, you find something stranger; a baby blue notebook, dusted with some soot, tucked into Viktor’s pillowcase. A quick glance at the inner cover lets you know this is Sky’s; if it wasn’t her familiar handwriting that gave it away, then her name, signed into the cover beneath the sensible title of “Sky’s Hexcore Notes,” made this apparent. Nothing in the notebook’s pages seemed amorous in any way, and you chastised yourself for even looking for that kind of evidence. And yet this discovery made Viktor’s behavior even stranger; the glasses could have been overlooked and spilled out of a pocket as he took off his socks. The notebook was more deliberate, and certainly a strange item to keep in a bed. It wasn’t your place to return the notebook, but you did wonder if Sky might have been looking for it. You visit the lab, only for it to be locked. A small note pinned to the door only indicates that there are experiments in progress and that nobody would be allowed to enter; the note is etched in Viktor’s trademarked scrawl. A student passes by. You recognize them as one of the younger lab assistants that Sky managed for Viktor. They catch you staring, then smile and approach you. “The lab’s been closed since last week,” they explain. “Viktor stormed out really late a few days ago, looking like something exploded.” They nod at the note. “Looks like the experiments were re-run. Not even Jayce is allowed in, though; Viktor gave us explicit orders to stay away out of safety when he left that day. Honestly, I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t been pulling an all-nighter for an exam.” A week ago…? You vaguely recall that Viktor’s behavior had completely changed around then, and your mind flashes to a blurry memory of a distressed expression and the clatter of wood and metal. Your eyes narrow. You thank the student and rush home. ——— Viktor is exactly where you left him. He slumps into the couch cushions, staring listlessly at the empty fireplace. When you close the door behind you, he doesn’t look up, doesn’t register any signs of life. His eyes don’t follow you when you walk past him towards the bedroom, and he gives no indication that he hears you. It’s not until you return from the bedroom with Sky’s notebook and glasses that Viktor seems to understand that there is movement around him. Rather, it’s the clink of metal against coffee table when you delicately place Sky’s items down that draw his attention. You slowly ease yourself into an adjacent chair as you watch Viktor’s face carefully. Something inside him seems to shrivel. You furrow your brows in concern; that’s the last thing you’d expected. The simplest explanation for having another person’s highly personal items hidden from their partner was normally cheating; you’d been bracing yourself for an answer more like that, even if you were fairly unconvinced that Viktor was capable of committing infidelity in the first place. Whatever else could have been the reason? You’d expected him to recoil, to get defensive, to immediately stammer out some tepid excuses to the presence of the two objects. But instead he recedes into himself, jaw tightening and eyes shaking. “Viktor?” Y0u call out for him tentatively, noting that his breathing has gone shallow and erratic. You don’t dare startle him now, and instead slowly shift forward to be ready to steady him if need be. His gaze on Sky’s glasses hardens. Then his amber eyes drag up to meet yours, slowly, painstakingly… guiltily. “She’s gone,” he whispers, and almost collapses forward. Luckily you’d been inching towards him for this express purpose, finally leaping out of your seat to kneel in front of him and catch him. He cries silently into the crook of your neck; the only evidence you have of his tears are the wetness in your shirt fabric and the stilted rise of his shoulders as he struggles to take breaths. Viktor coughs roughly once, ever so carefully tucking away his handkerchief with muscle memory, but continues to shiver into your embrace. You stroke his back to give him a bit of gentling, but countless absurd possibilities fly through your head as you try to understand what he means by those two words. When you give up on guessing, you lean back and search his eyes. “Vitya,” you say softly (he sags a little at the endearment). “What happened?” This isn’t the way Viktor ever imagined explaining his Hexcore experiments to you. Hell, he had been doing his best to avoid telling you anything that wasn’t completely necessary; everything should have gone smoothly, with him returning to your apartment with a new and painless body a week ago. But the truth—all of it—comes spilling out into the quiet living room air. Well, almost all of it. He recounts every bit of detail in surprisingly clinical clarity; you can only detect emotion from the slight tremor at the ends of his sentences. Viktor surprises even himself with this sudden precision, though despite the fluidity of his explanation he manages to hold back the darkest truth of all. He freely admits to you that he turned to biological rune matrix experiments because he was ‘ailing quite badly’ and seeking a cure in the form of energy transfer; he does not disclose the extent to which his health was failing. Viktor doesn’t know why he doesn’t tell you. His mouth continues divulging every other shred of detail, so why can’t he bring himself to say that he’s fucking dying with only weeks left of life? This was you he was talking to. The love of his life, the person he’d been made to wait for, the one who gave him the hope to live for himself. Perhaps it’s the shame. It was his hubris and his greed, driven by a faint thread of hope, that led to Sky’s death. She died in his attempt to live; perhaps he should never have dared to find a way to survive. He never wanted to hurt anyone. He would have endured the pain of the Hexcore experiments a thousand times over if it meant that everyone around him would be safe and well. How could he have let his desperation for happiness lead to another’s demise? How could he tell you the full truth of his sins and laden you with the knowledge that he’d killed someone just for the chance to escape his own death? But in his own convoluted logic, Viktor finds himself blind to the fact that his provided explanation might be more abhorrent than truth. You try your hardest not to recoil where your skin meets his; you’re not disgusted by him, you could never be, but you are finding it incredibly difficult to reconcile your mild-mannered lover and best friend with a person who enabled manslaughter all for a faster remedy for physical health. It didn’t sound like him at all. Even more difficult to process is his secrecy; you’d known he was sick, but not desperately so. Why had he not told you? Did he not trust you? It was jarring to hear he had turned to a procedure so risky for a non-terminal disease. Exoskeleton or augmented body parts or not, he wasn’t the type to go to those kinds of extremes (much less use contraband to achieve them). Something doesn’t add up. But as Viktor shivers in front of you, you push aside the discomfort and uncertainty boiling in your stomach and put all your energy into trying to make things better. He seems traumatized, and he needs you. Resisting the fear in your heart, you swallow down what tastes like bile and wrap Viktor into your arms even tighter. “Everything went horribly wrong,” he laments into your shoulder. “Nobody was supposed to get hurt.” “I know you,” you murmur, hoping that you sound convincingly comforting. “I know you did your best, and I know you would have saved her if you could.” He allows himself to openly cry at last, his shoulders shaking with every loud sob. You cling to each other like each other’s life rafts, bobbing along in an abyssal sea. —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You’re curled up next to Viktor in the dark, in the usual and familiar spot beside him in bed. He lies face-up, unblinking, unable to sleep. He dissects his conversation with Jayce over and over again, his plea to destroy the Hexcore on repeat. “Have you made it right by her?” “I will tell her… soon.” Viktor suppresses a cough within his chest, grimacing as he swallows phlegm. He glances at you, but you don’t stir; good. He must have been rather quiet, then. Looking back up at the ceiling, he sighs heavily, resigning himself to his original fate and wondering when he’d have the courage to say his final good-byes to you. Soon. —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- My Sparrow, Today I might be given my independence as a citizen of Zaun. You will learn of this after the Council votes tonight, regardless of the way the votes go, and hopefully by then all of this—this fighting, this violence, this bloodshed between cities—will be over. If I receive my liberation as a man in the eyes of the law, it is a cause for celebration. I am tired, however, and this only brings me mild comfort. You may wonder why my response to the independence of my people is so tepid, especially knowing who I am—who we are—and where I came from. You and I… from those days running all over our childhood home, holding hands and not caring what people thought about our social divide… we’ve never cared about the glitter and glamour of Piltover. You’ve weaponized it, in fact, in a stroke of brilliance that truly does do good in this world. I am ever so proud of you and always so inspired. That’s what Jayce and I set out to do with Hextech. It was meant to improve lives, not take them or worsen them. But while we have failed in our ultimate task, tonight’s vote and Jayce’ proposal may represent a turning point in our little world. It might be the change that really does improve the lives of Zaunites forever. So. I should celebrate, right? But I can’t. I’m writing this to you because you and I… we’ve both been cowards to our feelings for so long, unable to express them in person and hiding behind penned letters to confide in the truth. I’ll be there when you read this, and I will be sitting before you nervously, but I hope that in writing I can best articulate something that is very difficult for me to say to you. My darling, I am not long for this world. I’ve known since I woke up in my hospital room after that first fainting spell. It didn’t really matter to me then; I could sense that my body was failing me and I didn’t have anything to live for beyond my work. Then you insisted on entering my world full-force, firmly entrenching yourself into my apartment and my full-time care, and we somehow, miraculously, reconciled seventeen years worth of lost opportunity. It was that night, holding your bare form in my arms, that I resolved to find a way to continue living. It seemed stupid to give up when my decades of wayward hopefulness had been rewarded. I turned to the Hexcore, and thus to Shimmer. I wanted to survive; I wanted at least seventeen more years with you, not merely seventeen weeks. The exoskeleton is not… an exoskeleton. On the night Sky passed, I was trying to replace my mortal trappings with stronger parts, hoping that perhaps my ailing lungs might be saved and thus my life. Beyond fusing musculature and bone to firmer materials, I had hoped that biosynthesis of Hexcore energy and human organs might be my salvation and science’ path forward all in one. The first experiment, with my leg, worked beautifully. I expect that the second would have been successful, but no salvation is worth the cost of a human life. As you know, the second experiment ultimately failed. The Hexcore calls to me. It wants me, and I want it, but I know it isn’t right. I’ve asked Jayce to destroy it, knowing that its accursed siren call may be the last hope I have to live. By the time you read this, it will be gone, never to be abused again. I don’t know how many days I have left, exactly. But if you’ll forgive a coward for his secrets, I’d like to step back from work and spend every last minute I have with you. I’m sorry I didn’t try to find you overseas when we were younger; perhaps if I’d been less bitter and more brave, perhaps if I’d prevented myself from using work as a coping mechanism, I’d have been smart enough to reach out sooner and let you know how much I loved you. Perhaps then we’d have had years together instead of the few months we will otherwise have. Don’t be too cross, my little Sparrow. I knew my lot when I asked you to repeat your confession to me on that fateful night. I thought it better to let you know how long I had loved you than to fade away without giving you my response. Let us instead look to the small future we have and build towards the longer destiny Zaun might be given. Together. With an eternity of love, Vitya —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Viktor signs his name with a flourish, then lifts the sheets of parchment to inspect his prose. Jayce paces elsewhere in the lab, but the rhythm of his footsteps provided a melodic cadence for Viktor to write to. He sighs heavily, folding the paper into thirds and tucking it away into the inner pocket of his vest. Then he stands, stretches, and walks over to his partner. “Jayce.” “Mmh?” Jayce looks somewhat startled to see Viktor so nearby; it seemed it wasn’t just Viktor who was deeply lost in thought. “Done with your letter?” Viktor nods. “I’m guessing you wrote a confession, by the look on your face.” Viktor nods again. “I’ll never understand you two; loving each other so intensely but failing to say the words that need to be heard the most. Your relationship’s spanned a lifetime, you know that?” Viktor presses his lips into a tight line and wry smile as he thinks of a response. “When you’ve spent a lifetime waiting out of fear, you’re bound to act a little unintelligently.” Jayce looks wholly unconvinced. “You’re some of the smartest people I know,” he sighs exasperatedly. But he doesn’t press further; he’s simply glad that Viktor is trying to tell you the truth at long last. He’s made the thinner man promise to give you the letter after the Council meeting; it seemed like poignant time. Coupling two large announcements may soften the blow of either. “Are you prepared?” Viktor watches Jayce continue to pace, his path pendulum-like along the floor. “I’m about to go in and tell the Piltovan Council that I’ve given Zaun over to Silco,” Jayce groans, grappling at his head in frustration. “I know it’s the right thing to do, but they’ll be hard to convince.” Viktor scoffs, a half-smile tugging at a corner of his lips. “You’re Piltover’s Golden Boy,” he smirks tiredly. “One of the Fathers of Progress. They may be uncomfortable with your decision, but between you and Mel, very few would stand in your way.” The two men lock eyes for a beat, years of understanding conveyed through a split-second. This is what they strove for: for the future, for a world where technology equalized all. It wasn’t quite the path they expected to take there, but rather than continue to make the grave mistakes they had, they knew this was their only remaining choice. Their work had taken lives. It couldn’t continue in the way it once had. When Jayce resumes his pacing, Viktor knows that tonight will be a sort of goodbye. They’ll still be in each others’ lives, in and out, doing different kinds of science. But the past they’d had as Piltovan student and the mentor who’d succeeded against all odds was gone. The brimming confidence and hopefulness of their youth had been replaced with an exhausted resignation. Rather than work towards something new and anticipatory, they sought to minimize risk and suffering. And with Zaun liberated, Viktor and his people would no longer be seen as grateful charity cases but rather as threats to the old Piltovan ways. “We’ll always be partners, right, Viktor?” The hopefulness in Jayce’ voice is apparent. “It would be untoward to dishonor our legacy,” comes Viktor’s cryptic reply. Outside, a bell chimes. The two men share one more glance; it’s their cue to head to the council room for what is guaranteed to be an eventful session. Shoulder to shoulder, they leave the lab of their youthful optimism and step towards an uncertain future.

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor arcane x reader #viktor arcane x you #viktor smut #viktor arcane smut #viktor angst #viktor arcane angst

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neve1007 · 3 months

Text

From strangers to lovers-

georgia stanway x reader

it was a cold night in germany as you and your friends walked into a popular club, straight away you headed for the bar and ordered shots for one another, a few shots down u we’re starting to feel tipsy. You were singing to a song with your friend when you got pushed you into a girl, immediately going to apologise you were caught speechless as you looked at the gorgeous woman stood in-front of you. Her name was Georgia Stanway, an english midfielder for Bayern Munich, you had already briefly met as your best mate is good friends with Lina Magull but only with a quick hug and a hello. Georgia was there with her german teammates after winning their league cup as a celebration, Georgia looked into your eyes for a few seconds and accepted the apology greeting you with a hand to shake “ hey again i’m georgia nice to meet you”. she softly laughed. “Y/N” you quickly replied with. “Nice to meet you too georgia ” you smiled, as she looked you up and down with a grin.

As the night grew colder you and Georgia had bumped into each-other a few more times whereas this time was different. “i’m so sorry Georg-“you got cut off when she placed her hands on your hips and pulled you in closer. “Y/N would you like to dance?” Georgia asked politely. “if only it means with you then yes” you responded. Well that was it, you and georgia were on the dance floor all night long getting closer and closer and getting more drinks as the night went on.Eventually you looked around yourself and georgia only to realise that no one else was in the club except your best friend and Lina Magull Georgias German teammate. “i think it’s a bit late” georgia laughed. “yeah we’re the only ones here besides them” you chuckled pointing at your best mate laughing at Lina. Georgia had placed her hands back on your hips and asked for your number saying you need to meet up again another time, agreeing, you happily let georgia type her number in and walked toward your mate and told her it was time to head home. After 20 minutes you arrived at your hotel leaving your best mate to go off into your separate rooms and looked down at Georgias contact laughing at the fact she save it as “Stanners 😘” coming from the jokes you shared that her brothers always called her it.

A couple of weeks had passed and you and georgia were getting along very well and had went on a few coffee dates -well that’s what she called them- it was the end of the season for georgia as she had suggested you and her went on a walk down to the beach to watch the sun set , of course you said yes and had brought the football she had gave you after scoring a hatrick for bayern. You met at your usual spot , the coffee shop which you both visited regularly, you got to the shop before georgia and was just juggling the ball in your feet when you heard a familiar voice speak out to you. “look at you go! almost as good as me” georgia spoke with a smirk coming from the sides of her face. “i learnt from the best” you winked at her. “oh really who was it that you learnt from i might have to go to her myself” georgia questioned sarcastically. “ oh i just went to a girl named Lina Magull she’s such a good footballer she taught me the best” you teased back at georgia. georgia pushed into your shoulder as you made your way down to the beach. taking your shoes off as the sand filled the gap between your toes you had sprinted off with the ball at your feet as georgia chased you calling you a cheater for starting earlier. Very quickly georgia caught up to you hugging you from behind and picking u up away from the ball and taking it away from you. “Hey that’s not fair give it back” you complained to georgia only getting a cheeky laugh in return. Sighing, you set up two goals using your shoes as two posts and your jumper and Georgia’s shoe as the other, seeing as she had the ball she kindly gave you the ball to kick off with knowing she’d be getting it back within 2 seconds.

You played for hours until the sun was beginning to set, you and your “stanners” as you now called her had sat down on a blanket she’d brought with her and layed down next to each other as you listened to her awful jokes that she chewed your ear off with. “ so y/n, got any boyfriends recently” she questioned. “who said i was dating boys?” you replied. “oh i’m sorry i thought u weren’t interested in girls” she apologised. “don’t you worry stanners but yeah i do like girls, well a girl”you boldly confessed. “ omfg y/n y/l/n likes someone” she shrieked. laughing you asked “who do you like georgia stanway anyone in particular” georgia smirked at you “well i do like a certain girl but i’m not sure if she likes me back” georgia admitted. “ well stanners why don’t u just ask the lucky girl i think she likes you back in fact i know she does” you smiled. “oh does she now y/n/n and how do you know that” georgia asked. “ i have my ways G i have my ways” you smirked at her. looking away at the sunset georgia was staring at you, you could feel her stare on your face only to clench your jaw making her blush more than she already was. “y/n” she said softly. “yes my love” you replied smiling at her. “would you like to be my girlfriend” she nervously questioned waiting for an answer. “but wouldn’t your crush not like that?” you teasingly questioned smiling. “ of course i’ll be your girlfriend georgia i’ve liked you since i first layed eyes on you” you blushed. georgia smiled while pulling you in for a kiss which only deepened as the sound of waves crashing against the already damp sand and the sun lighting up the sky in an orange pinky type colour.

It had been 6 months later when your contract had ran out at bayern and you had got offers to move to the uk. The offers had came from, Manchester United, Chelsea and Spurs. Seeing as you moved to bayern from utd you obviously had to make an iconic return to your former club. Your decision was not whatsoever easy in the slightest, but ever since you got that offer you hadn’t been able to get it off your mind. Just a week later you and Georgia had sat down and talked about this. G took this hard, she was really upset that her girlfriend would’ve been leaving her and moving 797 miles away from her. Although seeing Georgia upset you knew this was the best for your career.

A week passed and it was the day you had to finalise your move to manchester, you were quite upset not only because u had to say bye to your best mates and your girlfriend but because you and Georgia had a massive argument the night before and Georgia went to stay over at Lina Magull’s house and you and G had ended on bad terms and just to top everything off you woke up to a post-it note on your bedside table with a box of chocolates from her the morning you were leaving to say she didn’t want to be with you anymore and said “it was for the best”, now this broke you but you had to look on the bright side and we’re looking forward to starting your new season in the WSL.

Everything was going amazing at united you had got 6 goals and 5 assists in 9 games, you were on fire and was quick to be a fan favourite. Being manchester’s number 9, you had massively increased in population and we’re always on people’s minds wether it was media or your opposition, you were living your best life in manny and had almost forgot about your moment with georgia the day before you left, however what you didn’t realise was that Georgia always watched your matches and had staked your social media and because Bayern had a week off georgia decided to do something fun.

Manchester united vs Manchester city, this was your first ever derby in the WSL and you were pumped up for it, the music in the changing rooms and the vibes between everyone on the team you just knew this was going to be a good day. Marc had called out the staring 11 and of course you were up top, right in the middle. Marc gave you a job of trying to be a nuisance to city’s defence (which you really were) and to wind them up like crazy. You were the one kicking off the ball earning your side facing away from the stretford for the first half and facing them for the second. It was the first ten minutes and you were already dribbling past the likes of Alex Greenwood and Steph Houghton in defence. Skipping to the 25th minute, you were awarded a free kick just about 25 yards out. Seeing as you had a history of scoring dozens of free kicks in your past, Marc had put you on them. As the ref blew the whistle you took 4 steps back and took a breath. You ran up to the ball and struck it with a spin and curl, well that’s all you needed because it ended up tucked into the top right hand corner leaving Ellie Roebuck on the floor barely even reaching the ball. You sprinted to the corner flag doing your signature celebration as you had one hand grabbing the badge and your other hand pointing to your head which was the first celebration you done when you first joined the club. The referee blew the half time whistle and the fans gave you a standing ovation as you and your teammates walked through the tunnel. The second half went quick as you sealed a solid 3-0 derby victory over man city you scoring 2 and assisting Geyse with her first for your club. Everyone was pumped in the changing room as you walked in with your “player of the match” award, everyone started chanting your name and cheering for you as you sat down in your cubby as you started getting changed. Eventually, all your teammates starting leaving the room to get to the coach and you realised you were the only one in there. You picked up your phone and went on instagram only to find the story your ex - georgia stanway- had posted, it was a photo of her and your former teammate Lina Magull holding hands and looking out to the sunset with the caption “Meine Liebe für immer und ewig” well that made your heart sink and you immediately had a lump in your throat. Looking around at the blurry room from your tears forming in your eyes you said to yourself “Fuck you G i can’t believe you” you didn’t regret saying it because you firmly believed that she had already moved on just after 7 months after you had been bawling your eyes out most days due to your break up. “Well that’s not very nice is it” a very familiar voice had said to you “congratulations my love i’m so so proud of you” georgia had praised to you. Confused, you could feel the tears falling down your face, “G..what are you doing here you should be in Munich why have you come here” you quickly questioned her. “shhh Meine Liebe i’ll explain it to you all about it later” she quickly shushed you as she came closer grabbing your hips and softly kissing your lips. You missed her touch dearly and you felt a sense of comfort and warmth the minute she touched your bare skin seeing as you stood there with a nike sports bra and some shorts.

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