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kennahjune · 5 days

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Flustered (But He’d Never Admit It)

Thanks so much to @rogueddie for letting me write this based on their post!!

( @steddiewithachance )

Desperately hope it lives up to standard 🫡

Eddie hadn’t planned on going out, really.

It was a Saturday and he looked forwards to sleeping until noon the next day. Maybe bothering Steve and Robin in Family Video at some point if he decided to grace the people of Hawkins with his presence.

But Nancy of all people had asked him to come. And when Big Wheels asked him to do something, Eddie sure as shit did it.

So he sat in the living room of Steve’s no-longer-really-scarily-empty house. Because Mr and Mrs. Harrington left after the earthquakes and gave the house to Steve. He’s been steadily personalizing it.

Eddie sat between Argyle and Robin on the couch, letting his gaze wander around and land on each photo hanging on the walls.

Nancy and Jonathan sat across from them on the other couch, Nancy’s feet thrown in Jonathan’s lap while he gently rubbed her calfs.

Eddie wasn’t listening too intently to the bickering going on around him, his mind in other places while waiting for Steve.

“HURRY THE FUCK UP, DINGUS!” Robin yelled. Speak of the Devil.

Eddie flinched, as Robin was directly in his fucking ear. He shot her a glare that she returned with a punch to the shoulder.

“HOLD YOUR HORSES, DIMWIT, IM DONE!” was what Steve yelled back from upstairs. Eddie and Argyle snorted at Robin’s offended gasp.

Steve appeared in the living room a few seconds later, struggling to tie his sneakers while hopping on one foot.

“You look like a worm,” Argyle pointed out helpfully.

Steve nearly face planted after he was done, his arms flailing and his hand catching on the back of Jonathan’s head.

“Ouch, dude!!” Jonathan yelled when Steve pulled his hair. Nancy and Robin absolutely cackled at Steve’s unapologetic shrug.

“My bad.”

Jonathan glared and rubbed the back of his head. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Steve fluttered his eyelashes and put a hand on his chest. “You think I’m cute, Jonny? Why, you might as well get down on one knee!”

Robin clapped obnoxiously. “Congratulations on your engagement!”

Nancy gasped, pretending to clutch her pearls. “Jonathan! Another woman? How could you!?”

Jonathan groaned and threw his head back.

“See what you’re doing to this family, Jon!?” Eddie suddenly joined in, surprising a laugh out of everyone; even Jonathan, despite his efforts to remain angry-seeming.

Argyle whistled when they calmed down. “Damn, Stevie. Is that the shirt I got you?”

Robin perked up. “Hey! That’s my button up!”

Steve planted his hands on his hips. “And those are my earrings.”

Robin huffed and rolled her eyes, pretending to pout.

The outfit Steve wore was unlike what Eddie normally saw him in. The same blue jeans as always, though these ones seemed to hug his ass and thighs more (a detail Eddie most certainly saved for later). The button up (that was apparently Robin’s) was white pinstriped, hanging open and unbuttoned to show off the light purple, sleeveless turtle neck (that Argyle got him, apparently).

Eddie kinda wanted to bite him.

Jonathan and Steve were designated drivers. So everyone split between the two cars; Nancy, Jonathan and Argyle in one and Robin, Steve and Eddie in the other.

The bar they went to was a small one but was still packed on such a fine Saturday night. The group was quick to find a corner booth to seat all six of them.

Argyle payed for the first round of drinks, everyone just getting beer. But they were all quick to get to the vodka and other shit.

“You not gonna drink anything else, Stevie?” Eddie asked at one point when he noticed Steve was still nursing his first beer.

“Designated driver, remember?”

Eddie hummed and took his last shot, barely buzzed despite drinking so much already. “I could drive us back if you wanna just drink with everyone else.”

Steve eyed him and didn’t respond for a moment. Eddie was ready to take the offer back, play it off as a joke. It wasn’t even like he said anything flirty or whatever! Steve just made him nervous like that.

“Are you sure?” Steve finally asked, his voice timid even as he raised it to be heard over the music.

Eddie grinned. “‘Course, darlin. Lemme take care of it.”

Steve turned away and downed the rest of his beer quickly. Eddie turned back to Argyle and Nancy’s conversation and failed to see the deep red flush overtaking Steve’s ears.

That was maybe 20 minutes ago.

At this point in time, Steve was definitely passed buzzed and well on his way to drunk.

He was sandwiched between Eddie and Robin, his head leaning on Robin’s shoulder and his hand playing distractingly and absentmindedly with Eddie’s jacket sleeve.

Eddie tried to ignore how sweet Steve looked, his face flushed with the pleasant buzz and his hair kind of getting floppy because he kept playing with it. He looked so cute listening to Jonathan but still so spaced out and almost floaty.

Eddie kind of really maybe wanted to bite him. Maybe make him cry.

Jesus H Christ.

He took a big drink of his water. “I think I’m gonna head out for a smoke, be back in a few.” Eddie carefully removed his sleeve from Steve’s grasp, fighting off the cooing he so desperately wanted to do at the pout the other gave him for it.

Eddie left in no time, letting himself out into an alley next to the bar. His cigarette was short-lived and he went for another 2 after his first.

He refused to let his mind wander, instead focusing on the burn in his throat and the smoke in his lungs. He was sufficiently calmed down after an extra moment, finally going back in after what had to have been just shy of 10 minutes.

Maybe he should’ve stayed outside.

Because Steve was drunk now, to the point that Nancy had cut him off.

It was in that moment, walking back to the booth, that Eddie fully realized he’d never seen Steve drunk.

When Eddie came into sight of the table, Steve immediately jumped up in his seat and reached obnoxiously over the table to wave at him. It was adorably reminiscent of a 5 year old and a little puppy.

Eddie failed to keep the soft grin off his face. Not that he was really trying.

“Hey, Stevie,” Eddie greeted softly when sitting back down next to him.

“Hi, Ed!” Steve exclaimed loudly and excitedly, basically bouncing in place. Eddie really should’ve stayed outside.

“Steve’s a little drunk, don’t hold anything he may say or do against him.” Jonathan joked from across from them. Or, it seemed like a joke. His expression was playful but his tone was more serious than it let on.

“Oh? A little drunk? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so excited.” Eddie snickered.

“Hey!” Steve smacked at Eddie’s shoulder and immediately grabbed his arm afterwards, wrapping himself around it and holding on. Eddie felt himself grow hot under his shirt collar. “I’m always excited to see you, doofus.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. This was news to him. He shot a look to Jonathan who waved him off, turning to talk with Robin instead.

Eddie put his free hand over one of Steve’s. “Oh yeah, darlin? That’s news to me.”

Eddie watched in delight while a steady blush crept down Steve’s neck. He grinned dopily at Eddie, all teeth and gums and scrunched up nose. It was ridiculously endearing.

“Huuuuuussshhhh.” Steve pointed at him, his arm like a wobbly noodle and uncoordinated; he nearly smacked Eddie in the face. “‘Course ‘m always excited to see you. You’re you!”

Eddie stuck his tongue behind his bottom lip to avoid grinning like an idiot. Steve’s eyes followed.

“Alright, dork. I think it’s time to take you home.”

Steve squawked at being called a dork. Insisting Eddie was the biggest dork he’d ever met.

“You’re a Dork with a capital D!” Steve insisted while they weaved through the crowd. Eddie was taking Steve home early with Robin catching a ride with Jonathan.

Eddie snorted, holding back a comment on ‘capital D’ anything. He had a firm grip on Steve’s wrist, as his drunken friend got distracted at every little thing. After he ran off to talk to some stranger “because they had shiny earrings! I needed to know where they were from, Edd!” Eddie wasn’t taking any chances.

He had to physically buckle Steve up for him in the beemer, leaning over him and clicking it into place. Eddie chose to ignore the raging blush on Steve’s face in favor of a simple smirk.

Steve wouldn’t stop talking the entire ride and Eddie loved it.

“I really wanted to play volleyball as a kid but my dad refused because he thought it was too girly— and than I wanted to play hockey! And I would’ve if my mom wasn’t so adamant about it being too ‘aggressive’ and my dad just going along with it because he couldn’t care less either way— oh!! And then I played soccer for a little bit! Did you know Robin plays soccer? I think she used to be on the track team, too—“

Eddie couldn’t stop grinning. (He made a silent promise to ask Argyle about volleyball so he could play with Steve at some point.)

When he took the turn to Loch Nora Steve went quiet. A brief glance told Eddie he was staring out the window. He let him have another moment before speaking.

“You alright, Stevie?”

Steve’s response was delayed, his voice quieter than it has been all night. “Yeah, ‘m good.”

“You sure? You went awfully quiet over there, darling.” Eddie couldn’t stop the faintly concerned glance he shot to the side.

“Yeah.”

Eddie pulled over to the side of a fancy road, one side houses with huge yards and the other the trees spanning out into the woods. Steve jolted at the stop, glancing at Eddie’s faint reflection in the window.

Eddie twisted in his seat, reaching over to tap on Steve’s thigh to get his attention. When Steve looked over at Eddie he looked like a kicked puppy.

“Why’d ya stop?”

“Cause somethin’s wrong and you’re not explaining.”

Steve’s brow furrowed. “Sorry.”

Eddie smiled softly. “You don’t have to apologize, Stevie. I just need to know what’s wrong so I’m not sending you home while you’re in a bad place.”

Steve’s shoulders hiked up slightly. “Doesn’ matter.”

Eddie huffed, stopping his tapping on Steve’s thigh in favor of grabbing it gently. “Of course it does, sweetheart. If it’s affectin’ you this much it’s gotta matter a lot.”

Steve shrugged, trying to look away. Eddie let him, but kept his hand on his thigh and squeezed twice. Just to let him know he was there.

They were both silent for a moment. The two. Then—

“Don’t wanna.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “Don’t wanna what?”

Steve response was slow, quiet. “Go home. Too quiet.”

Eddie’s breath left him in a quiet rush. Even if Steve was slowly making the Harrington estate more ‘him’, the memories it held would most likely prevent it from ever being ‘home’.

“You wanna go back to the trailer with me?” Eddie found himself asking.

Steve’s nod was hesitant, shaky like he wasn’t sure what he was doing. Eddie decided he was going to keep Steve at the trailer for as long as he can get away with this weekend.

“Alright, sweetheart. Let’s get goin then, yeah?” He patted Steve’s thigh twice and turned back to resume driving.

Steve remained quiet the rest of the drive, but he hummed along to the radio so Eddie deemed him a little better.

He parked on the side of the road, leaving the space next to the van open for Wayne’s truck when he got home in the morning.

Eddie had to help Steve up the porch stairs, letting him lean on his shoulder while fumbling with his keys. Steve was still humming to the last song that played on the radio.

Eddie gave Steve a pair of sweatpants and a shirt and silently praised himself for the flush settling down Steve’s neck. But then there was a flush settling down Eddie’s neck because Steve looked really good in his clothes.

They shared the bed like they usually did when they spent the night at each others places. Eddie took the spot by the wall and Steve climbed in to face the door. Eddie wrapped himself around Steve’s back with a hand on his waist and another under his head.

Did this take over a month? Nope. (Ssshhhhhhh)

I’m my defense: my biggest hyper fixation atm is ATLA 🤷

Am I happy with this? No, not really.

Am I posting it anyway? Sure am🧍.

Have fun with it ✌️

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #argyle #these six as a friendgroup #steddie thoughts #steddie #drunk stevie #steve harrington gets flustered easily #but only when he’s drunk

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atinylittlepain · 9 months

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June - Part Seven

Joel Miller x f!oc

series masterlist

warnings | 18+ dark themes surrounding suicidal ideation and attempt, smut, angst, but also a whole lot of love to be had

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All houses dream in blueprints

Our house dreams so hard

Outside you can see my shoeprints

I've been dreaming in your yard

"Pretty Eyes" by Silver Jews

............................................

Strange. Something from the past that shouldn’t fit into the present. Holidays, what use does this world have for holidays? But Tommy asked and Maria insisted and Ellie agreed and June did too. So he’s here in his brother’s house and she’s tucked under his arm and everyone’s playing pretend for the night.

His mind swirls with it. What could have been in some other fold of time. A house with a yard and a swingset and maybe a dog. A house with a minivan parked out front and a family inside. And hers is there and his is there too. And theirs, there’s theirs. Tiny palms pressed to pants legs and eyes that are hers and ears that are his. Theirs, theirs, theirs. Pearls around her neck and a tie around his and hands clasped around a table. And it’s such a sweet, stupid vision he has to blink it away before it starts to smart.

Pie. It’s the end of the world and there’s pie. And timid conversation. Everyone being careful of her, for her, even though she’s bright, polite, taking all of it in stride.

It’s only been a–

Since she–

But she’s doing so–

And she’s here, with him. In a dark green dress that she traded for. He’s never seen her in a dress before.

“Thank you for inviting me.” She nods to Tommy and Maria both. They smile.

“Of course, June. We wanted everyone here for Thanksgiving.” Kind and warm, Tommy ever the diplomat. To be wrapped into whatever everyone means seems to startle her, a tight squeeze to his hand under the table. She hasn’t touched her perfect piece of pie. He hasn’t touched his either.

It’s hard to look away. That clear amalgamation of Tommy and Maria, gummy smiles and contented babbling. Tiny, tiny, tiny. It makes his chest ache. And judging by the way she keeps sneaking glances, something similar is settling in her as well.

…

“How’s she doing?”

“She’s good.”

“I heard what happened.”

“Don’t.”

“It ain’t right, Joel.”

“Don’t, Tommy.”

“I wasn’t going to. I’m just saying.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You look good together. Well.” He doesn’t get a chance to ask him what that means because the front door is opening and everyone else is spilling out onto the porch to say goodnight, quick cordial thank yous and goodbyes.

…

“This is weird.”

“Hmm.” Tupperware. Where the hell did they get tupperware from? It sits on the kitchen counter between them. Two perfect pieces of pie in plastic. Dark, dark, dark outside. Close and quiet. She wordlessly pulls a fork out of a drawer, offers it to him, the first bite. He holds the container between them, leaning against the counter, curled over two perfect pieces of pie in plastic. Back and forth, back and forth, mottled silver passed between their hands. Sharing sweetness they didn’t want to show to anyone else.

It’s good. Of course it’s good. Butter and flour and sweet, sweet, sweet. A low hum in both their throats as they finish off two perfect pieces of pie in plastic, hunched over each other in the hazy light of the kitchen.

“Good?”

“Hmm.”

“You looked nice tonight.” Thumb and forefinger slipped along the sleeve of her dress.

“Thank you.” Palm smoothing under the collar of his shirt.

“Tired?” Her eyes drop, an answer in itself.

“Their boy is so small.”

“He is.”

“Sweet.”

“Let’s go to bed, June.”

He whispers it into her hair, her face burrowed into the warmth of his neck, hands tucked up under his shirt. A name he refuses to say to most. A name that stings. And she does the same, neck arching to put her mouth to his good ear. Two names that they tuck away, hold onto for each other.

…

“Well?”

“Clean bill.” Relief unfurls in his chest. He tucks her into it, wants her to feel it too. Quick, before stepping out of the clinic.

They’ve been making sure that her heart doesn’t–

“There’s a hole in your jacket.”

“What?” Her fingers wriggle against his side, the split seam.

“I can fix it for you.”

She’s good with her hands. Deft, meticulous, in all sorts of ways. He likes to watch her work. Peeling his jacket from him the instant they get home. So, so focused with a slip of thread and a needle. Knees brushing, turned toward each other on the couch. There’s a caution to the way they’re moving around each other. Careful, quiet, not wanting to harm or hurry. Not wanting to spook, not after–

“How are you?” Hands stutter stop, though her eyes stay stilled on the task. Stupid question, stupid, stupid, stupid.

“What do you mean?”

“Forget it, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Well how should I be?” Blink and miss it, the twitch of a smile at the corner of her mouth. Relief to get her like this. Just kidding like this.

“Fine is good.”

“How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Just fine?” Split, stretch, bright, bright, bright. A smile that crinkles up and up, warmth crackling in his chest.

“How’s that look?” A clean stitch, lines of thread tight and neat along the seam.

“Perfect, June. Thank you for fixing it.”

“Of course, Joel.”

…

Silvery, just like his. Puckered and arced, just like his. How much time has changed it. How he’s seen all of it.

“Does yours hurt from the cold?”

“Yeah, does yours?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm.” Thumbs held steady over each other’s. Soft sweeps along temples. This thing that joins them, shared and separate at the same time.

“Can I ask you something?” “Of course, June.”

“What did you think that night? When you saw me.”

“I’m not sure I was thinking anything.”

“I was so angry at you.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

It’s snowing, the soft shadows of it falling over the bed, her face. He wakes up most mornings soaked in sweat from all the blankets she sleeps with now that winter is snapping at fall’s heels. He doesn’t really mind.

…

For once, she’s home before he is. In the kitchen, moving light.

“What’s this?”

“I wanted to.” Fingers flickering fast and free, ribboning peels that wink red on the counter. She works easy, certain, the push and pull of her knuckles in dough. Buttery strips of it braided over the top, painfully purposeless, pretty. Proof, though what she’s proving he isn’t sure. And the whole kitchen washes away in the warmth of it, bubbling up golden and brown.

“For tonight. When Ellie and Dina come.” “Okay.”

“What do you think?”

“It looks good, June. You didn’t have to.”

“I know it’s dumb.”

“It’s not dumb.”

“I just wanted to make something.” Her palm hiding her mouth, a murmured afterthought.

“Something good.”

A bit stiff when they all sit down for dinner. Ellie with hers on one side and Joel with his on the other. But she surprises him with smooth, steadying conversation. He knows she and Ellie have been on patrol together a handful of times, and their comfort with each other is clear. The night relaxes around them. His arm slung easy over the back of her chair, something big and bright settling in his chest watching Dina watching Ellie. She’s okay. This is good, good, good.

“Holy fuck this is good.” “Ellie.”

“Sorry, it is.” He has to hide his smile, because in the corner of his eye he can see her beaming next to him at the kid’s words. Perfect pieces on plates. Soft smiles around syrupy sweetness. She thumbs away a shard of crust from his lip, so easy in how she reaches for him. And it is good, better, he thinks.

They send them out into the night, a tupperware of leftovers between them. He goes dizzy with how normal it all feels. Hip to hip in the kitchen, she washes, he dries. Another life, another world. This all the time.

“Dina seems nice.”

“She does.”

“Are you happy for Ellie?” “I think so.”

“Hmm.” That little sound of hers makes him smile with how familiar it’s become. But then his eyes catch on her forearm, bare beneath the rucked-up sleeve of her sweater. That jagged line of flesh. Whatever normal is, they will never touch it. He knows that. He must. His want for her is enough for him to swallow this truth, only a little bitter surrounded by all this sweetness.

“Good day?” A better question than how are you, he’s learned. The curve of her smile caught quick in the dim light of the kitchen.

“Yeah, it was. You?”

“Really good.” Her eyebrow crooks, a hooked turn toward him.

“What made it really good?”

“This. You.” They’re both not very good at it. He feels like a fool offering it and she shies away from receiving it. A slow thaw for each of them. But he keeps trying, and so does she.

“I like hearing that.”

“It’s true.” A smile, a shake of her head. But no recoil, her hip still snug against his as they finish the dishes. He’ll take it. All of it.

In another world, another life, her hands are soft and smooth and she wears blue nail polish because it’s her favorite color. And her painted fingernails work the knot of his tie out, quiet smiles because everyone else is sleeping. And he unclasps the pearls from around her neck, lays them on their nightstand next to a pamphlet about summer camp because theirs are old enough to go this year. And he lays her out on their bed with hands that have never touched blood that didn’t come from a scraped knee. And it’s simple, so, so simple. Fingers tangled, the light glint of their rings.

In this world, her hands are as worn and calloused as his, the rough drag making him shiver. No rings. And there is no tie, only the buttons of his flannel that she restitched last week to keep them from falling off. And there are no pearls, only the high neck of her sweater that he noses down to press his mouth to the hollow of her throat. And these are bodies that have known violence, and they move like it, always careful, always questioning, always stifling back snarls. And there is no one else. Only them. So they do not have to be quiet and they do not have to close doors and he can coax her up onto the counter and drop to his knees right there in the kitchen.

“Joel.” But that would be the same. The sound of his name breaking in her chest. The taste of her. The splay of his palms over the jumping muscles of her thighs. The pull of her hand in his hair, that plea to come closer when it all turns too much. The stutter of his heart when his hips press against hers. That warmth, her warmth, her breath against his mouth. Everything, everything, everything.

“June.” And that would be the same too. The sound of her name thrumming up his throat. A plea, a prayer, that perfect piece of his unraveling. She would be his undoing in any world and he knows it.

“I can’t believe we just did that.” Breathless, on a laugh. Her words thrumming where his forehead is pressed to her chest. Shrapnel around them, dishes shattered on the ground. Her sweater hanging off the curve of the sink. The mess they made, proof perfect.

He’d like to say something sweet, or clever even. But looking at her, the bright of her grin matching his, all he can do is laugh a little harder as she shakes her head at him.

They leave the mess. They’ll get it in the morning. Right now, it’s snowing outside, close and still. And they seek each other out in the quiet. He’s used to it by now. The slip of socked feet against his ankles, her silent search for warmth. Something he can give her, easy, simple, without question.

“June?”

“Hmm.”

“I’m glad that I was out there that night.” A long sigh, the fall of her ribs under his palm.

“I am too.”

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taglist: @thetriumphantpanda @suzmagine @casa-boiardi @hollywoodcaligirl @kelp-dreaming @beskarandblasters @swiftispunk @tieronecrush @wannab-urs @jksprincess10 @darkroastjoel @sarahhxx03 @ambassadortotrilliusprime @northernbluess

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller story #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #june

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blackopals-world · 1 year

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Sharks in the Water part 2

Part 1 Part 3

OnsenOwner!femYuu x Azul Ashengrotto

Azul isn't a fan of competition, especially when they steal away his best girls to work for them. He'll have to learn to share if he wants the benefits of having a business partner.

Azul had heard of many business meetings over dinner. He drafted a contract and placed it in his breast pocket. If the meeting went well he could end up taking the spa right from under her or at the very least, keep it under his control.

He wanted to arrive early to get the perfect table for two, only to find she was already there. She was dressed to the nines. A simple but elegant long cocktail dress with heels. Her jewelry were a strings of pearls on her neck and wrists.

She with her back to the door. Clearly, she knew etiquette. Never sit at the head of the table unless you are the guest of honor. Which in this case was him. She hadn't ordered anything as she waved off the server. She didn't want him to feel like he was late by starting without him.

Azul should have just greeted her but he was enraptured by her. Yuu reached into her clutch and pulled out a hand mirror. She gazed into it and smiled as she apprised herself only to quickly flick it in another direction to show Azul his own reflection. She caught him.

"Azul, you shouldn't sneak up on people." She teased as she snapped the mirror closed.

He straightened his tie as he move to sit down.

"I could help but stare. You really dressed for the occasion." Azul said quietly picking up a menu.

Yuu pouted making a pitiful sound.

"Is that all I get?" She asked poking her lower lip out. "Can't you say I look pretty?"

"You're confident." Azul smiled.

"I'm right. Is this how you treat a girl, especially one trying to make you happy?" Yuu said slyly.

"Considering this meeting is over you oweing me an apology then you already know how to make me happy." That came out a bit more flirtatious than intended.

"Correction, I owe Floyd an apology. He's already being compensated though. The girls are seeing to that. This, right now, is merely a dinner invitation." Yuu said as she waved down the waiter "A chardonnay please."

"Pinot Noir." Azul said before dismissing the server. "A chardonnay?"

"I had a sudden craving for fish tonight. The taste pairs well." Yuu purred as she rested her chin on her hand. He eyes were piercing yet there was a subtle softness.

The dim lights of the restaurant and the soft light of the lamp on the table made it impossible for Azul to focus on anything but her. A chill traveled up his spine and the waiter couldn't have come sooner as he poured their glasses.

As he stepped away Yuu gave a wink to the waiter who blushed and took their orders for the main course.

Azul rolled his eyes. He needed to remind himself that she was probably like this to everyone. Still, she could at least focus on her date guest.

"Don't give me that look. I'm just being friendly." She smiled.

"Is that what you call friendly? Is that what you have your girls doing?" Azul was already suspicious of the goings on in Yuu's Onsen but he was beginning to confirm his thoughts.

"Of course not. Well not exactly." Yuu tried to explain "The girls are like hostesses. They entertain, only in the traditional sense. I train them in singing, dancing, art, and playing instruments. Alongside tea ceremonies, holding games, and playing a mean game of ping pong. Other girls learn spa care and cleaning. The last practice cooking in the kitchen. Each has their own role." Yuu explained feeling slightly insulted but understanding Azul's concerns. He wanted to know what his dorm were doing.

"Wouldn't it be better to focus just on the spa? You have plenty of customers from Pomefiore alone." Azul asked.

"No, the Onsen is a place to relax and escape work, not just a spa. Sometimes people just want to eat some good food while listening to music or play games." Yuu's reasoning was based on her upbringing in her own family's hot spring.

"If they wanted food and music the lounge would be the best." Azul had an undercurrent of irritation. Losing customers to the Onsen had been the source of his issue with the spring's Mistress.

"I suppose, but don't you think the atmosphere of being tended to by pretty women makes the food much better?" Yuu officiated.

"Personally I think you have your hands full. Training so many girls at once while balancing out managing the spa sounds exhausting." Azul reached into his pocket to pull out the contract. With one little signature, he would have it all.

"You're too forward. Give a girl a minute. We haven't even eaten." Yuu whined stopping Azul in his tracks.

Azul knew he needed to keep her happy if she would sign. He relented and they talked about other things until their food arrived.

Yuu gleefully dug into her seafood paella as Azul received his roasted lamb.

"Now then, you had a proposal? I do like proposals you know, looking over at that table it seems they agree as well." Yuu joked as she pointed out the couple at a neighboring table.

As if on queue one got on bended knee and asked for their hand. The restaurant was filled with polite clapping and enthusiastic cheers.

"I have a deal for you but nothing as life-changing as that." Azul felt his face turn red at Yuu's little joke.

Yuu pouted as she began tuning Azul out, much more interested in her wine glass.

"As I was saying earlier I believe you could use some help. I'm offering my aid to take care of all the messy business so that you can focus on what matters. The beloved matron of the onsen could use a break." Azul's honeyed words fell on deaf ears as Yuu gazed absent-minded as she tapped the shaft to her class. "Just sign here."

Yuu pursed her lips in thought before smiling.

"How generous of you Azul. Unfortunately, I am in no need of help. You on the other hand need it." She said smugly.

"Why in the seven's names would I need your help?" Azul asked aghast.

"Well let's face it besides the shifty atmosphere, unhinged staff, lack of entertainment, and honestly laughably dated decor. All you have are your backroom deals. It seems to me that your lounge is just some front you'd see run by mobsters. How can you bring in new customers like that? " Yuu didn't mince words. "It's not awful. But it needs a woman's touch."

"A woman's touch?" Azul repeated in a deadpan tone.

"My touch makes anything better~♡. But yes. You don't have what you need to get more customers. I propose a counteroffer. We spend some funds on a few minor renovations to the dining room. New stage, instruments, change some of the seating and cutlery. I introduce you to some of my best girls to get my regulars in your door. I'm also training a few who are good at serving and I'll offer them to you under contract. They can charm and keep customers coming back. They can even perform on stage. I've polished my gems nicely." Yuu said with pride in her voice.

"I don't understand? What do you get out of this?" Azul was suspicious of course.

"Look the Onsen is doing well but my girls need to shine more and show off their talents. Getting them out there to a bigger crowd would benefit me when customers come to request them. They need a taste before they ask for me. Plus if you offer some culinary expertise it would help. We don't serve meals and don't intend to but our snacks and sushi are much to be desired I will admit." Yuu was being realistic. They both had something to gain, it's a fair deal.

"Can I request girls? How about the mouse one?"Azul could tell Yuu liked that girl and wanted to know how desperate was she for the deal.

"Tilly isn't going anywhere she's one of my best. The older crowd loves her."

"Older crowd are you selling her to old men?" Azul wretched in disgust.

"Of course not. But the NRC staff love her. The sweet little girl appeal reminds them of a daughter. Having a sweetheart listen to your complaints and bringing youth back into your life is needed for older people. I need girl to target every market?" Yuu snapped at first.

"So what's your market?" Who liked a flirty girl like her? Not that Azul didn't see the appeal. She was mature, well spoken but always seemed like she wanted to eat you up.

"No one really. As the matron, I only entertain during events. The only person who'd ask for me are guys like you. Ones that come in with something to say already. I'd like to say I'm jealous when the girls go out on lunch dates with customers. All the while I'm stuck with clients. It's fine I at least know where I stand." Yuu sighed downing her glass.

"Have a preferred customer you'd like to entertain?" Azul asked feeling his neck turn pink as he watched her spin the glass between her fingers.

"We all do. But mine is rare. I like the ones who like money. Not rich. Guys with more money than sense are short-term investments. Guys who know value are the ones I like. They pick their target wisely and then strike when the moment is right." Her voice was low and sultry like honey and Azul felt pulled in.

"Is the moment right? He smiled leaning towards her.

Yuu brushed back a lock of Azul's silvery hair.

"Take me home for dessert and we'll see if we can seal the deal."

#twisted wonderland #onsen!yuu #octavinelle #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland yuu #twst yuu #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader

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manicplank · 2 months

Note

A little stray thought i had.. How would they react to passing by/seeing a really fancy, elegant person in the wild/outdoors? :0

How would they react to a fancy person?

Peppino: He'd look and be incredibly jealous. He'd imagine himself in their shoes, dressed in a fancy tux with a top hat.

Gustavo: He'd stare in admiration. He'd wonder what it would be like to be wealthy like them, but he'd also realize that he's happy with his little life.

Mr. Stick: He'd probably go over to them and insist that they need a manager or a financial advisor. He'd confide in them that he's the man to trust (he's not).

Pepperman: Huzzah! What a sight for him to see is a person as elegant as he sees himself. He'd probably walk over and spark up a conversation only to be turned down.

The Vigilante: He wouldn't really care. He pretty much minds his own business. Although, he does think their outfit looks mighty fine.

The Noise: He IS that elegant, fancy person walking down the street (sometimes). He is famous, after all. He was probably coming home from a celebrity event or a date with Noisette, as he's dressed in a nice yellow pinstripe suit and red tie.

Noisette: She's also the elegant, fancy person in a beautiful pink bodycon dress accessorized with a beautiful boa, a pearl necklace, and white heels. She flaunts her stuff, she likes dressing and acting all fancy (knowing damn well she and him are gonna go home and play like children).

Fake Peppino: Ooo, fancy person! The shine of their jewelry catches his eye and causes him to stare. Although, seeing a creature like him is pretty unnerving to the person... He watches them from afar like they're a fascinating bird, careful not to scare them away.

Pizzahead: Totally NOT jealous. Mhm, totally NOT AT ALL jealous. Who do they think they are?! He might just go home and put on his favorite blue suit with high waisted pants just to show them who's boss. Or... Maybe he'll just sit there and give them the stink eye. Yeah, that second one sounds easier to him.

Pillar John: He would take a glance at them and admire their appearance. He'd call out to them and compliment them. He wishes he could pull off a luxurious look like that.

Gerome: Doesn't care. Doesn't even notice them. To him, their just another regular person walking down the road. He minds his business and carries on his way.

#pizza tower #noise #the noise #headcanon #noisette #pizzahead #peppino #peppino spaghetti #fake peppino #pepperman #the vigilante #mr. stick #pillar john #pizza tower gerome #pizza tower gustavo

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babyrunsforfanfic · 1 year

Text

Old Money — 1 of ?

summary: when you meet steve harrington at the country club your parents insist you attend each year for the holiday season, you are slightly surprised at how you and him just immediately click. it only takes two more meetings for him to convince you to uproot your life and move to hawkins with him. however, when you get there, you realize he’s been keeping something from you, a someone— his boyfriend; eddie munson.

steve harrington x fem!reader, steve harrington x eddie munson, eventual!steddie x reader

warnings/tags: sfw, fluff with pockets of angst, miscommunication but it’s resolved, reader has hair long enough to tie back and tuck behind her ears, reader wears skirts and dresses, reader never called y/n, reader referred to by petnames (princess mainly), reader is old-money rich, steve and reader’s parents suck, reader’s last name is carmichael for the plot ok, infidelity but it’s due to miscommunication you’ll understand when you read it it’s cleared up fast, robin x nancy, making out, allusions to sex, discussions of polyamory, reader realizing her feelings for eddie at the very end, honestly it ends on a cliffhanger i’m so sorry

wc: 6300ish

•••

you kept a glass of wine pressed to your lips as you continued to survey the crowd around you. you loved the holiday season, truly you did. however, as much as you enjoyed the time of year it was— the festivities and the place was lacking.

your parents always demanded you attend the country club in upstate new york, saying it showed a more "unionized front", if you went. your grandmother when she was alive, always laughed it off and didn't make you attend every year. your grandfather was more subdued, thought he loved your grandmother dearly- and when she didn't want to go, neither of you had to go either.

however, this year you didn't have your grandmother's coat tails to hide behind. instead, you just nodded and agreed when you were asked to attend, lying from behind clenched teeth about how excited you were to attend.

"you're a sight for sore eyes." your grandfather huffed from next to you, and you stifled a laugh by sipping down a mouthful of wine. your grandfather chuckled lowly himself, and you leaned up on your toes to press a soft kiss to the apple of his cheek.

"papa," you kept your voice soft, and you caught the light twinkle in your grandfathers eyes as you pulled back. "and what are you plotting?"

"well," your grandfather hummed primly, righting the sleeves of his suit jacket, causing you to roll your eyes fondly at the tone that flooded his voice. "i've successfully thwarted your parents from trying to marry you off, and i successfully stopped the tyner's children from drinking from the waterfall."

you were barely able to stifle your laugh, using the back of your hand to press against your mouth. your grandfather was smiling, eyes crinkled and mouth twisted in a grin as he watched you.

"oh, aren't you the overachiever." you teased softly, and your grandfather tipped his glass of bourbon to you, before he took a swig. "is there anyone worth actually talking to tonight?"

"well..." your grandfather trailed off, eyes darting to glance around the crowd- before it seemed he ultimately found whoever he was searching for. "would you like me to introduce you to someone? i believe, well, i believe your grandmother would have wanted you to meet him."

you swallowed harshly, fingers of your free hand ghosting the pearls you had around your neck. your grandmother had given them to you in her will, the heirloom ones that she had worn from the time she was your age, ultimately until her death.

"i... yeah, alright." you nodded taking the last sip of your wine, before you sat it on a waitstaff's tray as they walked past you both. "let's go then."

your grandfather followed your lead, abandoning his glass on the same tray, before he held his arm out to you. you carefully twisted yours into his, folding your arms smoothly as the two of you walked. you tried to not pay attention to the way people seemed to part as you followed your grandfather, and instead focused on counting your breathing.

it took twenty breaths to cross the room to where your grandfather had been looking, and you allowed a smile to spread across your face as the two of you came to a stop.

"mr. and mrs. harrington," your grandfather hummed, and you stifled a smile as the couple seemed to rush to turn around. "i saw you from across the room, and remembered i just had to introduce you to my granddaughter."

you murmured your name as you shook both of their hands, smiling and nodding when they repeated your name back to you.

"oh well you must meet our son!" mrs. harrington grinned, and you sent a side-eyed look to your grandfather, who very pointedly avoided your gaze. "steven! dear, come here for a moment- will you?"

"it's just steve, mother-" steve harrington had started before he fully turned around, though he immediately stopped as soon as his eyes met your own. "oh, uh, hello."

"hello." you greeted back, feeling heat rapidly rushing to your cheeks as you smiled. mr. harrington was quick to give your name to steve, and you felt butterflies roll in your stomach as steve mouthed it to himself- before his eyes were back on your own. "it is lovely to meet you."

"likewise, uh-" steve was blushing, heat rapidly swelling on his cheeks, and you couldn't help but furrow your brow as he pointedly ignored his own parents. "would you like to accompany me for a drink?"

you turned to your grandfather who was beaming, before you glanced back to steve, and nodded slowly.

"alright then." at your words, steve gestured for you to follow him- and you hummed as he pressed a soft hand to the middle of your back. he used this hand to guide you toward the bar, and when you were far enough from both of your relatives, you let out a soft laugh. "i believe my grandfather is trying his hand at meddling, i apologize."

"no need, really." steve grinned, you shrugged your shoulders slightly as you cast him a look. "i was waiting for someone to save me, to tell you the truth."

"so i'm your knight in shining armor?" you teased lowly as steve and you approached the bar, and the man easily tugged out a barstool for you. you slid down, eyes still on his, and you felt heat rush to your stomach as he playfully tugged on a strand of your hair as he kept eye contact with you.

"seems so, princess."

you let out a soft laugh, ordering another glass of wine as you turned to steve, who ordered a glass of some form of hard alcohol that made you scrunch your nose. he watched you as well, eyes trailing over your body, before he made eye contact with you once more.

"so, what's a guy like you doing here?" you questioned, head cocked as your brow scrunched together.

"a guy like me?" steve laughed, and you hummed playfully as you nodded. "and what do that mean?"

"you didn't grow up in this." you pointed out easily, and steve nodded slowly. "you're newer money, my guess is your father? he was just recently promoted and offered an invitation?"

"oh so you're good at guessing this then?" steve joked and you shrugged again, smiling when the bartender slid you your glass. "and what about you?"

"oh, old money." you shrugged, and steve's hum prompted you to continue. "couple generations of oil, that type. my grandfather, the one you were introduced to, is my head of house."

"huh." steve cocked his head, eyeing you as his drink was dropped off within his reach. he made no move to touch it, and you mimicked his movement as you cocked your own head.

"hm?" you made a questioning hum from the back of your throat, and steve shrugged as he plucked his glass up, swirling the alcohol around inside of it.

"you seem miserable." steve's sharp words caused you to let out a laugh, and you held your wine glass by the stem as you nodded. "you admit it?"

"let me let you in on something, steve." you murmured, and you leaned forward so you could drop your voice an octave. you tried not to breath in steve's scent, a deep cologne that you truly wanted to never stop smelling. "you'll find that here? oh we're all terribly miserable."

steve let out a guffaw as you pulled back, and you stifled down a laugh as his eyes brightened as he smiled at you. you smiled shyly as he tipped his glass in our direction, and you slowly mimicked the movement.

"to being terribly miserable." steve teasingly toasted, and you tapped your glass against his as you giggled.

"to being terribly miserable."

•••

"and how are you enjoying tonight's festivities, miss carmichael?" the man in front of you, christopher something, asked, and you smiled slightly.

"it's beautiful, of course." you glanced around you, taking in the lights, before you offered another smile to christopher. "it is a lovely time of year, and i am blessed to be here."

"and you're still-"

a warm hand pressed against your back, and you turned as you caught the light brown colored eyes of steve harrington. he offered you a wide grin as he passed you a glass of sparkling wine, before you offered your own smile back.

"there you are!" steve theatrically greeted you, and you pressed the rim of the wine glass to your mouth to stifle a laugh. "your grandfather is looking everywhere for you! he said it's incredibly urgent."

"oh, is he?" you hummed after swallowing your mouthful of wine, before you sent an apologetic look toward christopher, whose jaw was set. "i am so sorry, we must continue this another time!"

"yes, we must." christopher nodded toward you, and you allowed steve to sweep you away, who managed to hold his own laugh until you were far enough away.

"oh you are terrible!" you hissed playfully, batting at steve's arm as the two of you came to stand slightly hidden behind a pillar.

"you looked like you were drowning." steve teased back, grin wide and eyes sparkling as he took a drink from his own wine glass. "in my defense, it was your grandfather's idea for me to be the one to go save you."

"that doesn't surprise me," you shook your head as you laughed to yourself, and you felt heat roll in your stomach as you looked up at steve. he was watching you again, slowly eyeing you from head to toe, before an easy smile spread across his mouth. "what?"

"you love pretty tonight," steve shrugged, and you shook your head with a fond roll of your eyes. "you do!"

"i'm sure you tell your girlfriend that all the time." you rose an eyebrow, and steve's grin widened. "don't look at me like that!"

"so, you've been wondering if i have a girlfriend?" steve hummed, and you let out a small scoff as you rolled your eyes again.

"oh hush," you waved him off, taking a sip of your wine as you tried to cool your all of a sudden parched mouth and throat. "have you been having a good time tonight?"

"yeah." steve admitted, and you nodded as you swirled the wine around in your glass, looking around the room for your grandfather. "do you like it here? in... society i guess i mean."

"i've been here since i was born." you answered, smoothing a hand over the pearls around your neck in an attempt to comfort yourself. "it's all i've ever known."

"that wasn't my question, princess." steve was closer, and you swallowed as you took a shaky step back. "i asked if you liked it here, not how long you'd been here."

"i like it well enough, i think." you murmured, eyes still set around the room- refusing to look at the man in front of you. his cologne cloyed at your senses, and you drew a short breath in as you huffed a sigh. "i envy you, you know. i heard you live in a small town and have a much quieter life than i do."

"and that's something you'd want?" steve questioned as he moved another step forward, and you blinked shyly up at the man as he stood in front of you. "is it?"

"yeah," you shrugged, and steve shook his head as he just watched you with a furrowed brow. "why are you looking at me like that?"

"for one, i enjoy looking at beautiful things." steve's voice was soft, and he tucked a small curl behind your ear as he kept his eyes on your own. "secondly, i'm trying to figure you out."

"oh?" you giggled, rolling your eyes as steve made a hum noise from the back of his throat. "and what are you trying to come to a conclusion about?"

"i think you'd do well in my town." steve instead hummed, and you held back a shiver as you watched the man take a slow sip of his wine instead. "it's small, but hawkins is home, that and my friends are there. i think you'd get alone well with them."

"maybe so." you kept your voice soft, and you dropped your eyes from his to glance at how close you were to each other. the tips of his well-polished dress shoes were barely an inch from your heels, and you glanced up at him again, before you looked over his shoulder. you could see your grandfather discussing something with your parents, and he caught your eye before sending you a pleading look. "i need to go attend to my grandfather, excuse me, steve."

you moved around him quickly, head and eyes still facing away, though you let out a soft gasp as his hand curled itself around your wrist. your eyes met his as he held you back, and you caught the look in his eyes he sent you as he stared down at you.

"i don't," steve murmured lowly, and you ignored the satisfying tremble that licked up your spine as you blinked up at him.

"you don't what?" your brow furrowed, and steve just grinned at you as he twisted your hand- before he planted a kiss onto the back of your knuckles. he kept eye contact, even as he let your hand slip out of his fingers.

"i don't have a girlfriend, princess."

at his words you felt your heart ache, and instead of responding, you turned on your heel- and continued to walk toward your grandfather. when you met your family, you all exchanged greetings, though they all left you to your own devices as you focused on drinking from your glass. once the trembling in your fingers stopped, you searched the crowd for steve again.

you found him, much too easily, as he stood with his own family— his eyes already on you. he tipped his glass in your direction, before he took his own sip of his wine. your grandfather bent his head down to your ear, and you turned your head slightly- though your eyes remained on steve's light brown.

"everything alright with him, buggy?" your childhood nickname didn't even annoy you as much as it usually would, and you let out a hum as you took a sip of your wine. "what's on that mind of yours, child?"

"i think i've decided something," you murmured, and you kept your eyes on steve as he had turned to slightly address his parents, though his eyes still stayed mainly on you.

"and what is that?" your grandfather hummed, and you shrugged as you tipped your glass toward steve.

your grandfather and steve both followed your movement, with the former just watching knowingly as the latter raised his own glass toward you for an across the room toast.

"i'm pretty sure steve harrington is going to break my heart."

and with those words, you drank.

•••

"come to hawkins with me." steve kept his voice low, as the two of you were sat facing each other on a window seat. it was the thirty-first of december, and the clock continued to creep toward midnight. "please."

"and do what?" you murmured, letting steve rub his thumb along your cheekbone as his large hand cradled your cheek. "my parents would disown me."

"would they?" steve questioned, and you shrugged. "my parents have threatened to disown me countless of times, and they haven't yet. my dad might be upset i work at-"

"family video with robin, i know." your own voice was soft, and you let out a low sigh as you turned, blinking up at the sky.

steve and you had spent the entire time at the country club together, growing closer. he'd filled you in on his life, his friends, the children he babysat. you'd filled him in on your own life, though in comparison... it felt rather boring. but, nonetheless, you told him stories of your grandparents. of horseback riding, traveling to foreign countries, learning new languages. and he listened, which was more than the majority of your social circle did.

"come to hawkins." steve repeated, using the grip he had on your face to turn your head so your eyes were on his. "i can't leave you here to waste away."

"is that what i would be doing?" you question lowly, feeling a flutter roll in your lower belly. "wasting away?"

"come to hawkins with me." steve repeated again, though this time, his nose is brushing against yours. you gasped quietly, lower lip trembling, and steve used his fingers to tilt your chin up. in the background, you can hear the countdown begin, and you huff out a sigh. "come home with me."

"why?" you murmured, and steve smiled as he raised his free hand to cradle your other cheek. "why?"

"tell me you don't feel anything between us." steve demanded lowly, and steve grinned when you balked. "tell me you don't, princess, and i'll stop asking."

"i-" you flicked your tongue out to wet the corners of your mouth, and you caught the way steve's eyes followed it. "steve..."

"come home with me." steve pleaded, and you swallowed as his thumbs rubbed along your cheekbones again. "princess..."

you blinked up at steve, your eyes meeting his glossed over ones, unshed tears wetting his top lashes.

"princess..." steve swept his thumb up to catch a tear that fell from your eye, and you swallowed sharply.

steve leaned up and pressed his lips to your forehead, right in between your brows. you scrunched them, and he nosed at your forehead before he pulled away.

"come home with me, princess." steve asked again, and you swallowed as you scanned his eyes for any reason to not go. you didn't see anything, instead just the absolute yearning, he seemed to have for you. "please."

you nodded, a nervous tilt to your smile that caused steve to draw in his own breath.

"i'll come home with you." you murmured, and steve grinned wide at you, before he pulled you close just as he leaned in.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

you'd kissed plenty of people. guys and girls alike. countless of times, but this... oh this.

steve harrington could fucking kiss.

you whined into steve's mouth as you leaned forward, pressing yourself closer to him- your hands lifting to cradle his face back. your lips moved against his softly, mimicking the way his bottom lip slotted in between your own lips. he pulled back, a smile on his mouth, all teeth- and you grinned back, before he connected your mouth back to his.

steve pulled back for a moment, tracing your bottom lip with his finger, as he sent you a smile.

"happy new years, princess." steve murmured, before he leaned forward and connected your lips in another kiss. you giggled into this one, especially as one of steve's hands left your face to slide down your back and press you farther into him. "god i fucking love kissing you."

"take me to your room." you murmured against his mouth, letting steve bow you to his body as he shifted the both of you. "stevie, take me to your room."

steve nodded as you hummed against your mouth, before he pulled away so he could catch your eyes as he spoke.

"okay, okay, we'll go up."

•••

"so you want to throw away everything for a boy you don't know?" your mother hissed and you didn't make eye contact as you kept your eyes trained on the plate in front of you.

steve and you had spent the night together, learning each others bodies well into the morning, before he'd escorted you back to your room. the two of you kissed whenever there was a lull in conversation, openly giggling into each other's mouths. he left you tucked in bed in a shirt of his, well worn with the black sabbath logo across your chest, before he excused himself.

you blinked up toward your mom when she cleared her throat, an expectant look on her face. you shrugged, clearing your own throat as you took a sip of your orange juice, hoping the sharp taste would stop the trembling of your hands.

it didn't.

"i like him." was all you responded with, and you winced at the dry laugh your mother gave.

"you like him?" your mother mocked, and you diverted your eyes toward the bar- where your grandfather and father were talking, the former looking toward you with a protective look in his eyes. "oh! so that makes it so much better."

"what do you want me to say?" you instead hissed back, and you turned back to your mother- eyebrows arched high. she rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her champagne as she waved her hand in the air. the bracelets on her wrist clacked, and you held your tongue to not scoff.

"marry one of the good boys i've been trying to set you up with!" your mother ordered, jabbing her pointer finger into the tablecloth. "not this... this random boy! marry someone from a good family."

"i'm not talking about marriage." you ground out, eyes narrowed as you ignored your grandfather and father as they came back to the table. "i'm talking about my life! mine!"

"you are my daughter." your mother bit out and you shrugged as your grandfather folded his hand against the back of your trembling one. you sighed lowly as your father cleared his own throat, and you looked up to catch the disappointment look that had flooded into his eyes.

"so you want to move to somewhere like indiana?" your father scoffed lowly, and you sighed as he took a sip of whatever alcohol he had in his glass. "if you do we will disown you and cut you off-"

"you will do no such fucking thing." your grandfather cut your father off, slamming his palm down to quiet the table. you flinched, eyes wide as you turned to your grandfather- who was watching you knowingly. "you will do absolutely no such thing."

"she is our daughter, unless you forget." your mother hissed back, and you held back a smile at the dry laugh that escaped your grandfather.

"and she is my fucking heir." your grandfather's voice was clipped, even at the wide-eyed look your father sent your mother. "my wife, may she rest in peace, decided that when she was but a toddler."

"you can't do that!" your father hissed, and your grandfather let out another dry laugh as he wrapped his hand around your arm, successfully tugging you away from the table. "you can't!"

"you will find, son, that i most certainly can." your grandfather shook his head again, before he leveled his gaze at your parents. "i need to go have a conversation with my granddaughter about her happiness and future... something i am unsure if i want either of you to be apart of any goddamn longer."

you let your grandfather pull you away.

when it was just the two of you, you then allowed him to cup your cheeks in his time weathered palms, and you felt the tears being wiped away before you even knew they'd been shed in the first place.

"do you want to go to indiana with steve?" your grandfather's voice was soft, coaxing, as if you were a wild animal he was cradling in his hands.

your grandfather was the first to refer to steve by his name. not "that boy", not some allusion to steve being below you. he called him his name like he was a person, like you were a normal girl bringing home a date for the first time.

"please." was all you murmured, and you held back a sob when your grandfather nodded, before he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your brow.

"then, buggy, that is what you will do."

it went quick, the squaring away of plans.

your grandfather booked both you and steve plane tickets, first class because why would it be anything different, to the closest airport to steve's hometown. he filled you in on being his heir; the money, the investments, everything that would be transferred to your name when he passed.

he cut your parents off too. enough money being put into an account that while they would be able to live, they'd never live as extravagantly as they had been previously. he talked to steve, made him promise to keep you safe, to keep a smile on your mouth. the two of them laughed together and conspired together as if they had known each other for years.

when your grandfather dropped you both off at the airport, he cradled your cheeks in his hands once more. tears in his eyes, as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, before he whispered against your skin.

"live your life, buggy. enjoy everything it has to offer you."

•••

you loved hawkins as soon as steve drove into the town.

his bmw had been waiting for the two of you at the airport, courtesy of your grandfather, and steve kept his hand in yours as he drove. he pointed out different places, ones he'd already told you countless of stories about on the plane; the hideout, the video store, the arcade, the diner with 'overpriced fries and milkshakes but apparently they're worth it anyways'.

his house was nice, the largest in the cul-de-sac, and you scrunched as you surveyed the two cars that were waiting in the driveway.

"that would be nancy-" steve gestured to a station wagon, and you nodded. "and that would be eddie's." steve gestured to the older van parked in front of the station wagon, but the way steve said his name is what caught your attention.

it had meaning in it, the way it rolled off his tongue. steve talked of eddie, sure, but it always in passing— never fully going in depth to whoever the man was. you knew he was important to steve, that was abundantly obvious, but... you felt something akin to unease roll in your belly, and you just nodded as the man next to you shifted his car into park.

"do you..." steve licked his lips, and you nodded fondly, stepping out of his car as he did. he fumbled with his keys, nervous, and you smiled before you gestures toward his house.

"i'll be with you in a minute, i'm sure your friends miss you, i've had you all to myself for almost two weeks." you waved him off, and steve nodded as he curled his arm around your waist- before he pressed a soft kiss to your mouth.

you pretended to not notice the rustle of the downstairs blinds from over his shoulder.

when steve leaves you leaned up against his hood, you let your head fall into your hands, palms rubbing harsh circles into your clenched shut eyes. you feel stupid, you can’t help it. and maybe while steve is trying to hide it, you could tell. he had feelings for whoever this eddie person was, and here you were— getting thrown smack in the middle of it all.

you count your breathing again, fingers smoothing over the pearls around your neck, before you decidedly walk up the path to steve’s front door. the door is unlocked, and you aren’t even surprised at what you walked in on.

steve harrington is pressed against the wall, by who you assume to be eddie- their mouths connected in a brutal kiss.

the two men part as if they’ve been electrocuted, and you offer the two a faint half-smile as you scan your eyes over eddie. he’s hot, you can’t deny, the almost complete opposite of steve— who is looking at you with his mouth slightly agape. you say nothing, and instead scan the entryway of the home, before you nod your chin up the stairs.

“can we go talk?” your voice is soft, and when steve tries to step forward and touch you- you turn away. steve freezes immediately, and when you cast your eyes to him again, he has his hands by his side.

“c’mon, sweetheart.” it’s eddie who finally speaks, voice low, ragged from having his breath stolen by steve. you meet the almost puppy-like look his dark eyes have, and he smiles at you as he gestures up the stairs. “let’s all go talk.”

steve harrington’s room is bare.

it looks like it’s barely been lived in, the only decoration being that of a few polaroid photos taped to the mirror of his dresser. you say nothing to either of the men, instead leaning against a wall- head cast toward your feet.

“we’re in an open relationship,” eddie is the first to explain, and that releases the weighed down pain you had in your chest. it’s enough for you to raise your chin slightly, and eddie continues on after seeing the movement. “i’ve known about you since steve first saw you, but he should’ve told you about me.”

“i didn’t because i’m an idiot, a big dumb idiot.” steve cut in, and you swallowed back a laugh as you nodded slowly.

“we’re poly, uh-” steve floundered, eyes wide as he blinked toward eddie, who took over again.

“we see each other and other people, you don’t even have to interact with me.” eddie soothed, and you nodded again as you fiddling with your fingers. “yeah?”

“so… you guys see each other, and other people separate? but not, not together?” your brow is furrowed as eddie and steve both nod. “does that not, does that not get weird?”

“oh i live off compersion, sweetheart.” eddie teased, and you let out a laugh- shaking your head slowly. you don’t miss the hopeful look that washed over both faces of the men across from you. “but seriously, you don’t have to interact with me romantically at all. we can be platonic with a capital p, like how stevie here is with buckley.”

you can’t help but laugh, not fully knowing the story behind the phrase, but finding it humorous nonetheless.

“i…” you nod slowly, a soft sigh falling from your lips. you knew about polyamorous relationships before— you hadn’t been under a rock. “i wish you would’ve told me about it, stevie.”

“i know princess, i know.” steve kept his voice soft, and you don’t pull away when steve is in front of you. “I wasn’t lying about anything else, okay? i… there is something between us, and i know you feel it too.” you nod, and you don’t pull away when steve’s hands raise to cradle your cheeks in his palms. “i would really like to kiss you, can i do that?”

you nod again, and when your lips meet his- you allow yourself to fall. steve crowded you to his front, arm dropping to loop around your hips to pull you flush to his front. you barely hear the bedroom door open and close, and when you pull away to catch your breath- steve planted soft kisses down your jawline and throat. his teeth graze teasingly at your pulse point, and you use that to grapple at his shoulders so you can push him back slightly.

“we need to talk, all of us, later.” you say into the space between the two of you, and steve nodded in quickly as he kept his eyes on yours. “all of us and no lies. i, i’m still really mad. okay?”

“okay.” steve pressed another kiss to your mouth, and when you pull away- he doesn’t plant kisses down your throat. “do you want to go meet nance and robin? they really want to meet you.”

you nod and let steve to pull you from his room.

•••

it took nearly two weeks for you to fully forgive steve for what he kept from you. after you, eddie, and him sat down- he explained why exactly he’d hidden it. to divulge his secret, he’d have to tell eddie’s. and while eddie had given his complete consent, steve felt off about outing eddie. which, you knew to be true, since the brunette hadn’t even spoken about the fact that nancy and robin were together.

like, together together.

which, led to today.

nearly a full month after you came to hawkins, you’re tucked on steve’s bed as you waited for him to get home. a fantasy book, one of eddie’s you think, is propped on your legs as you sit with them crossed in front of you. you heard the stomp up the stairs before you saw him, but you smiled at eddie when he burst into the room nonetheless.

his hair is more tamed than you’ve seen it, tied in a half ponytail, though it’s starting to frizz around the crown of his head. his eyes are wide and theatrical, and you cocked your head slightly as eddie frantically looked around the room.

“his shift is running late at the video store, keith’s apparently having car issues.” you explained, and eddie sighed as he started to deflate- clearly having intended on ranting to steve.“did your date go bad?” you kept your voice soft, and eddie let out a loud huff.

“go bad?” eddie shook his head, and you watched with a furrowed brow as the curly-headed man pulled his ponytail out, shaking his curls loose. “sweetheart, it was a fucking nightmare.”

you swallowed at the nickname, mouth dry and you nodded slowly. eddie kicked his boots off, dropping them into a pile near your carefully placed ballet flats. his chain wallet was unclipped next, and the brunette tossed it onto steve’s dresser with a groan.

“i’m going to go outside and smoke and uh, wait for steve.” eddie murmured, an apologetic look and tone in his eyes and voice. “sorry for barging in here-”

“you could stay.” you don’t know why you said it. you really don’t. but the wide-eyed excited look that spread across eddie’s face made it worth it. “um, i was reading but- we uh, we could talk? i…” you can’t help but furrow your brow, before you tucked your bottom lip in between your teeth. “are we allowed to cuddle?”

eddie laughed. like full on, tipped his head back laughed. and he was still laughing to himself when he answered you. “i think so, sweetheart.”

which is how you found yourself tucked into the arms of your… well whatever steve is to you’s, boyfriend. eddie is warm, and when he cuddles- he fucking goes all in. both of his arms are around you, your legs entwined, and you aren’t a hundred percent sure when you wrenched your sweats off… but they’re discarded in a heap by the side of the bed.

eddie let you fully relax against his chest, and he told you stories. stories about growing up in hawkins, going to the middle and high school here. how he had to repeat senior your three times, and how now he was a manager for the one and only little record store in town. how he had a band, and while they weren’t worldwide yet, the played at the small bar on the edge of hawkins every tuesday and thursday night.

he doesn’t talk about his date, short of telling you her name, though he took to referring to her as ‘the bitch’. the only reason he hadn’t fully gone in depth about it was due to the fact he didn’t want to have to repeat the exact same story to steve as soon as he got back home.

eddie let you nudge your nose against his throat, your face tucked carefully into the crook of it, before you let out a yawn.

“stevie’s back, sweetheart.” eddie murmured, and his hand smoothed down your shoulder blade as he tried to pull back. “let me go ahead and pull back, that way you can cuddle him when he comes up, yeah?”

“no.” you indignantly murmured, shaking your head as you kept your nose tucked against his skin. “staying like this, stevie can put up with it.”

you ignore eddie when he laughed at you, just as you didn’t turn when the door to the bedroom opened- and footsteps froze in the doorway.

“hey there, big boy.” eddie greeted, and you hummed at the feeling of his voice as it rumbled through his neck. “you’re uh, girl, turns into a cuddle-bug doesn’t she?”

“you’ve been… oh.” you hear steve chuckle, and the sound of him kicking his shoes off, before he’s at your back. he crowded you closer to eddie, not that you minded, and you aren’t even jealous when you can hear the unmistakable sound of them kissing above you.

instead, you allow yourself to relax even further, and when steve’s cold fingers find your neck to tilt your head- you let him. you have to twist, having been on your side in eddie’s chest- but when you’ve moved enough, steve plants a kiss to your lips.

and his mouth tasted like eddie’s.

as you settle back down, tucked between the two of them, all you can think is one thing.

you’re absolutely fucking screwed.

#babyrunsforfanfic #really nervous for this so please be kind #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #eddie munson x reader x steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie x reader #steddie x you #steddie x y/n

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metaphorical-goblin · 1 year

Text

Miles & Pearl + An Act of Kindness

Miles shifted in the stiff hospital seat as the girl sniffled beside him.

Wright had left her, frightened and alone, right there on the bench as he darted into the room to tend to Ms. Fey (she'd just been rescued, after all, and the hospital refused to allow more than one person in while she was still waking up).

All events conspired to leave one antsy Miles Edgeworth accompanying one weeping Pearl Fey.

He wasn't sure how to comfort her. How could he bring comfort to such a young person, who likely had no idea of object permanency and couldn't understand that her cousin was not gone, but simply recovering in the other room?

(It occurred to him that, perhaps, he did not understand children as well as he thought.)

The girl hiccuped again, silent tears trailing down her face, as her clumsy hands tangled in her shoelaces.

His fists automatically tightened their grip on one another as she scrubbed an arm across her face. "Everything alright, Ms. Fey?"

Pearl shivered through another batch of sniffles, still glancing to the side as she mumbled to herself. "M-Mister Nick always… ties my shoes for me."

He really should have asked. Miles couldn't explain what led him to act.

But he slipped to the floor in front of the girl anyway, kneeling on the rubber flooring in his suit pants while lifting her small foot to his thigh, taking her laces in hand. "I suppose he hasn't taught you, either. It's alright," he reassured her, looking up with sincere confidence. "The way shoe-tying is traditionally taught is really not as effective for little fingers."

Quitely, with patient words that his father used to whisper to him, he showed her how to tie her little sneakers, making small loops and twisting them up, double-knotted so they wouldn't fall loose. Then, she replicated his work on the opposite shoe, slowly and carefully working to follow his exact instruction.

When she was done, it was not neat or perfect. It likely wouldn't hold itself together for the hour.

"That's a wonderful job, Ms. Fey," he praised, smiling up at her. "It will take practice, but you won't need any help, soon enough. However, it's always alright to ask."

Miles worried he said something wrong when her lip wobbled, and he scrambled to pull out an apology that would stave off more of her sorrow.

Her tiny arms locked around his neck, and she buried her face into his jacket. "Thank you, Mr. Edgeworth."

-----

Phoenix shuffled out of the room, still agonized by Maya's condition and her lack of progress so far.

She would be alright, he urged himself. Everything would be alright.

His thoughts stalled completely when he caught sight of Pearl, snoring softly with her head resting against Miles' thigh.

He blinked a few times as the prosecutor met his gaze. "Wright! Is…" His voice dropped in volume as he startled awake, shifting his hand to cradle the girl's head for a mere breath. "How is she?"

Phoenix stammered his way through what the doctors shared while Miles nodded in silence. Then, still silent, he leaned forward and lifted a styrofoam cup from the ground.

"I got you… coffee. Well, Ms. Fey and I got you coffee, and I also got her a hot chocolate because she seemed rather… distraught, and I really hope that's alright-"

"Miles." The prosecutor's hand was almost frigid where Phoenix laid his own atop it, his knuckles bony and chilled, but somehow still warm underneath all those layers. "Of course it's alright. That's… It's wonderful. Thank you."

Miles blinked at him, stars shining below his brows, before his worry-tight lips shifted into something akin to a smile.

"Of course," he murmured, casting his eyes down to where their fingers curled together.

#ace attorney #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #pearl fey #fanfic #short fic #aa2 spoilers #ish #not really but just in case #narumitsu #just a splash #btw pearl has sneakers bc she used to get blisters from walking around in her sandals during investigations and travel in the city #so Phoenix got her a pair of shoes that she could run and play in #(also Phoenix thinks play is very important so that was pretty high up on his list of things to teach Pearl)

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imaginesandbandfiction · 1 year

Text

Vigilante Shit

An Outer Banks Imagine

Pairing: Topper Thornton x female!reader

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: Very vague mentions of domestic violence that didn't actually happen, having sex for money (slightly dubious consent bc of that at one point)

Summary: You're hired to investigate a rich pretty boy and team up with his wife to nail him for his crimes.

A/N: Enjoy this Taylor Swift-inspired fic, this is what I imagined happening all throughout the song so I wrote about it! Hope you like it!!!

Masterlist

The taxi pulls up in front of a small bungalow and you hand a wad of cash to the driver, thanking him as you get out of the car. You try the front door and it swings open, left unlocked just like the client had said it would be. It’s fully furnished inside, with a simple, neutral color scheme that complements the beach visible out of the windows that line the back of the house. There’s a small, cozy living room off to one side and an eat-in kitchen on the other. Down the hall are two bedrooms and a bathroom. You drop your backpack in the bigger room and then circle back to the kitchen with just your laptop.

There’s an iPhone on the kitchen table, three generations old, next to a charging cord wrapped in a neat circle. You plug it into your laptop and retrieve the iCloud backup you had prepared last week, dragging it over to the ‘New iPhone’ file.

As everything downloads, you run through the mental copy of the file you received last month. It was too dangerous to bring it along with you, so you had committed it to memory and burned the physical copy before you left. Your waitressing job at the Kildare Island Country Club was starting tomorrow, and you were to report there at 2 pm, between the brunch and dinner rushes, for training. The client and her husband had reservations at 7, and she assured you that they would be seated in your section. From there, a few simple steps will position you to carry out the rest of the job, tie any loose ends into a neat bow, and get the hell out. The phone dings when the download is complete, so you add a simple passcode and change the name of the phone to ‘Y/N’s Phone,’ wrapping up the final details before heading to bed.

The next morning, you make a cup of coffee and settle in at the kitchen table to answer some emails from potential future clients before you have to leave for work. In the bedroom you slept in, the closet is fully stocked with a carefully-curated wardrobe. Everything is second-hand and leans towards casual with small details that will elevate the outfits from simple to elegant, like cardigans with pearl buttons and soft, satin camisoles. You put on a short black tennis skirt and a white sleeveless polo cropped just enough to show a small strip of skin and accessorize with a thin gold chain around your neck. It’s enough to spark interest without being over the top, and natural eye makeup paired with a shimmery, peach-colored lip gloss compliments the look perfectly.

At the Country Club, you meet with the Restaurant Manager, Darcy, who gives you a tour around the grounds and then walks you through what a typical shift will look like. You meet the rest of the staff and Darcy leaves you with Karen to train. She’s been waitressing at the club for twenty years and lets you follow her around as the dinner crowd starts to trickle in.

Seven o’clock grows nearer and your nerves melt into confidence. The adrenaline starts to kick in and you get a burst of energy, which Karen takes full advantage of. She has you do most of the work while she supervises, interjecting here and there to answer a question you don’t know the answer to or to give you slight corrections. You’re so caught up in the whirlwind of the dinner rush that you don’t realize the client has arrived until Karen leads you up to a couple in their late 20s, looking glamorous in designer clothes and seated by the windows that overlook the ocean. To be fair, though, you hadn’t even spoken to the client on the phone and didn’t even know her real name, she went by ‘SC’ in her emails. All you had was a general description; strawberry-blonde hair and big brown eyes, and the woman in front of you fit that description perfectly. Her husband also matched his description, with slicked-back blonde hair and dark blue eyes that sparkle with interest as he takes you in.

“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Thornton,” Karen greets them. “This is Y/N, she’s my trainee.

“So lovely to meet you,” you say, flashing a shy smile at the husband. His gaze drops down your body and then back up to your face, and he smiles back.

“The pleasure is all ours, Y/N,” he says. “I’m sure you’ll take great care of us.”

The woman flips her long, shiny hair over one shoulder and holds a manicured hand out to you, interrupting his husband’s thinly-veiled flirting.

“I’m Sarah,” she drawls, “It’s nice to meet you.” You take her hand and shake it gently. She squeezes your hand three times in quick succession, too light to be noticeable to anyone but you, and relief floods your body at this confirmation. Sarah is SC.

“Are you staying in the old Routledge place?” Mr. Thornton asks.

“How did you know?” You ask in response, furrowing your brows in faux confusion.

“My husband owns most of the rental properties on this island,” Sarah interjects, “so when someone new shows up, it’s not hard to figure out where they’re living.”

“So when you’re ready to move on from that hovel, just let me know and I’ll set you up with something nicer. A girl like you deserves a home as pretty as she is.” Mr. Thornton reaches into his pocket and hands over a business card as he speaks. You tuck it into the side of your bra without a second glance, catching his eye and biting your lip as you feel your cheeks heat up. There’s something dark behind the smirk he gives you; like he’s a predator and you're his prey.

“Thank you,” you respond, infusing your voice with the innocent earnestness that you had perfected over the years. “Right now it’s all I can afford. I had to leave a bit of a shitty situation back home so…” You shrug as you trail off, leaving it up to him to fill in the blanks.

“That’s enough of an introduction,” Karen interrupts, taking a step closer to the table and pulling out her notepad. “Could I get the two of you a bottle of wine to start?” With that, the conversation is derailed but the groundwork has been laid, so you feel good about it.

For the rest of the night, you give their table extra attention. Karen had told you after your initial conversation that they are some of the most important members of the club so she isn’t suspicious, and actually encourages you to flirt with him a little bit. (“He likes to feel important and wanted,” she said. “The wife will pretend to be upset about it, but between you and me, I don’t think there’s much love there.”)

He pays with a credit card and leaves a hefty tip, so when you find an envelope resting on the chair he had been sitting in, you don’t expect it to be filled with hundred-dollar bills. There’s a note scrawled on the inside of the flap: I meant what I said. Call me if you need anything. He wrote a phone number underneath, and you don’t have to check the business card to know that this isn’t a business number. Before anyone has the chance to notice it, you shove it in the waistband of your skirt and adjust your apron so it’s hidden from view, and finish flipping the table. It’s not your first rodeo, so you know that you’ve really sold it, but no other job has gone this well this quickly. Karen’s right, this guy really does crave attention.

The rest of your shift passes in a blur and by the time you make it back to the house, you’re exhausted. You collapse on the bed and pull out the business card. It’s sleek and sexy, with TOPPER THORNTON in all capital letters at the top in a sans-serif, wide-spaced font. Sure enough, the number on the bottom is different from the number on the inside of the envelope, so you toss the card to the side and put the envelope number into your phone. Before you start getting ready for bed, you shoot him a quick text.

Hey, it’s Y/N from the country club. Thanks for your note, I really appreciate it. Guess I’ll have to take you up on your offer to look at some other places ;)

His response is instant.

Don’t thank me yet, we’re only just getting started

You roll your eyes and decide to leave him on read for a few minutes while you take your makeup off and do your skincare routine.

I work tomorrow and Saturday, but Sunday I’m free!

I’ll pick you up at 6

This is clearly a man who has never been told no in his life, but you can work with that. With phase two of your plan already underway, you don’t feel bad about tossing your phone to the side and falling asleep without responding.

Part of you is shocked that he doesn’t show up to the club while you’re working over the next two days, but then again, he’s probably smart enough to know to keep his distance from you in public. People who run successful real estate dynasties usually aren’t stupid no matter how rich they were growing up. He hasn’t texted or called, either. But the asshole is true to his word, and punctual, you’ll give him that, because he pulls up in a dark blue G-Wagen at five fifty-five on the dot. The windows are rolled down and he slides his Ray-Ban aviators down his nose to stare at you as he puts the car in park.

“Ready, sweetheart?” He asks, peering over the tops of his sunglasses. You get up from your spot on the front steps and slide into the passenger seat, adjusting your jean shorts so they don’t ride up. After buckling in, you look up and see that his gaze is stuck on the exposed skin of your thighs.

“So, where are we going?” You ask, getting his attention without calling him out. After all, if this is going to work out, you need him to be distracted.

“I thought I’d show you a place a little further down the beach,” he says, clearing his throat. “It’s still on this side of the island, but it’s closer to the boardwalk and within walking distance of the club,” he answers. You nod and sit quietly for the rest of the short drive, observing him out of the corner of your eye. He drives with one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on the windowsill, tapping along to some invisible rhythm. The slight breeze blows his hair around, and when he pulls up in front of a small but cute beach bungalow with blue siding and white shutters, it’s wild and messy. He runs a hand through the front to tame it as he gets out of the car. You start to open the passenger door but suddenly it swings open and he’s standing there, holding a hand out to help you down.

“Thanks,” you say as you brush past him, keeping his hand in yours for just a few seconds longer than necessary. You turn towards the house and pause in front of it to take it in. “This is really cute!”

“Thought you’d like it,” he says with a smirk. “Now c’mon, you gotta see the inside. The last tenants moved out three months ago so I’ve gotten a few things updated in the meantime - Floors, countertops…” He rattles off a few more things as he leads you inside, unlocking the front door with one of several keys on a keychain he dug out of his pocket. None of them are labeled, but you make a mental note that the one for this house is small and silver with a circular hole through which the chain is looped.

The door swings open and he holds it for you, letting you take in the small entryway.

“The kitchen and living room are just down the hall,” he tells you, pointing to where a short hallway extends from the entrance. “Bedrooms are upstairs, and there’s one bedroom up there, the other is off of the kitchen, next to the garage.” He sneaks around you and grabs your hand to lead you down the hallway. There’s a large, open room with tall windows along the back of the house. The living room has a large gray sectional and two matching armchairs set up around a fireplace, with a large TV mounted above it. On the other side is the kitchen. It’s bigger than the one you have now, all white with marble counters. An island separates the two spaces, with three stools set up on the living room side. Off of the kitchen, there’s a half wall that gives the dining room a little bit of privacy even though it’s still technically part of the larger space.

The dining table is set for two, and there’s a covered pan in the middle. You turn to Topper, eyes filled with questions, and he chuckles as he leads you toward it.

“I thought you’d be hungry, y’know, since I’m stealing you over dinnertime,” his grin is cheeky as he speaks.

“That is so sweet, thank you,” you gush. He pulls your chair out for you and loads up your plate before he sits across from you.

“So, Y/N, tell me about yourself.”

“There’s not much to tell, to be honest.” You shrug as you start eating. He’s quiet as you eat, giving you the space to continue. “I’m from Massachusetts,” lie, “I went to school for history education but ended up dropping out halfway through when I met this older guy,” another lie. “He kind of swept me off my feet so I ran away with him. We were in the city, New York, that is, and things were good.”

“But?”

“But…. he liked things his way, and even though I was fine with playing my part in the beginning, it was hard to keep it up long-term. And he would get angry.” You pause there, letting all of the things you haven’t said wash over him. His face is soft and it’s so uncharacteristic that it looks awkward on him.

“So that’s why you moved to Kildare? To get away?” You bite your lip and nod, lowering your head to look at the table as if you’re ashamed.

“Hey,” his voice is quiet and gentle, and he reaches across the table to tip your chin up so you’re looking at him again. “It’s okay, you don’t have to be embarrassed with me. I’m just glad you were able to get out of there.”

“Thanks.” He pulls his hand away and pushes away from the table, coming around to stand next to you instead. His hands find your chin again, tilting your head up towards him. As he leans down, you let your chin tip back even further, inviting his advance.

“What about your wife?” You whisper, forcing your face into a worried expression. He strokes your cheekbone with his thumb to soothe you.

“She won’t leave me. She likes my money too much.” From his tone, you get that he’s sort of joking, but the sentiment rubs you the wrong way and at that moment, you fully understand why she had come to you. But you keep any trace of dislike from your face as he captures your lips with his. He’s greedy, opening his mouth against yours right away. The angle is a bit odd since he’s towering above you and you have to lean your head really far back in order to make it work, but he uses that to his advantage, leaning some of his weight on you as if to make a point that if he wanted to, he could force you to do anything. You run through a mental list of attractive celebrities to take yourself out of your body as you kiss him back.

When his hand grazes your boob, you pull back and hug your knees to your chest, putting a physical barrier between the two of you, playing up the helpless victim card.

“Sorry,” you breathe, “It’s just, I haven’t… Not since him. Do you mind if we leave it there, just for today? I promise I’ll be more ready next time.”

“Of course,” Topper says, reaching out to smooth a hand down your hair. “I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I’m okay with taking it slow.” You knew he wasn’t, that he was the kind of guy who would take what he thought he deserved, but he was probably turned on by the whole scared and innocent thing. Willing to play the long game and savor dismantling your defenses until you melted for him like butter.

He drops you off with one final kiss, short and searing, and you disappear into the house and immediately draw a hot bath. While you wait for the tub to fill up, you shoot an email to your client, Sarah.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Status Update [ENCRYPTED]

Hey SC,

It feels kinda weird to call you that now that we’ve actually met in person, but I’ll keep it up for privacy’s sake. You were right - he fell right into the ‘broken and innocent’ trap that I laid for him. I plan to give a little more next time and really make him feel like he’s fixing me; the bigger his ego gets, the likelihood of my success skyrockets. Thanks for sending over those additional leads! I’ve been able to make a few possible connections but will hold off on the details until I can gather enough evidence to prove them. Plausible deniability will get you far in life, darling.

Anyways, keep pushing his buttons at home. We want him distracted in as many ways as possible, and if you’re holding him at arms’ length, he’ll be more likely to come running straight to me.

After a long, hot soak, you return to your computer and find a response already waiting in your inbox.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

RE: Status Update [ENCRYPTED]

RS,

It is sort of weird being secret pen pals now that we’ve officially met, but I appreciate your discretion and dedication to the job. I knew it would be easy to get my husband to pursue you, but I didn’t think it would happen this quickly! I shouldn’t be surprised, he’s been cheating on me since high school. I’m sure you probably think I’m an idiot for marrying him, but I was young and I thought (stupidly) that he would mature as he got older. That’s the power of first love, I guess.

Thanks for the update!

You smile to yourself at her response, if you weren’t working for her (and starting a pre-planned affair with her husband), you could see yourself being friends with the woman.

***

After another few days of shifts at the country club and keeping a just-flirty-enough text chain going with Topper, he shows up while you’re working on purpose, for the first time. Sarah’s not with him this time; instead, he’s with a group of similar-looking guys, all wearing khaki shorts and pastel-colored polos. They must have just finished golfing because they take a caddy to the bar with them and buy him a shot before they settle in at a table in your section.

Over the course of your very short tenure as a country club waitress, you’ve learned a lot. Most of it came from Karen, who loved to gossip and seemed to know everything about everyone on the island, but rich people tended to think that the staff wasn’t real people, so they were surprisingly loose-lipped about a lot of things.

You learn that the Routledge house, where you’re staying, belongs to a John B Routledge who has made quite a name for himself as a travel vlogger on YouTube. He rents his childhood home to tourists and people needing somewhere to stay for a few months while he’s out traveling the world. You also learn, courtesy of Karen, that John B is Sarah Thornton’s ex. Apparently, she broke up with Topper and dated John B during a tumultuous and confusing time that you don’t fully understand. There was some drama with her family and she ended up breaking up with him and taking Topper back. This is valuable information that you can use to get Topper even more invested in you. He still has a deep-seated hatred for the man that stole his girlfriend in high school, and you have no doubt that part of your charm, to Topper, is the fact that you’re living in John B’s house.

Before you head over to their table, you duck into the bathroom to reapply your lip gloss and pull your top down a bit, showing an additional inch or so of cleavage. Sure enough, he can’t keep his eyes off of your chest as you make small talk with the rest of the group and take their drink orders. Two of the men, Rafe and Kelce, have been his best friends since childhood. The fourth guy, who introduced himself as PJ, is a mystery, but he fits seamlessly into their boys-club dynamic, flirting with you while simultaneously making fun of the rest of the guys for doing the same thing.

Topper is actually the tamest of the group, probably because he has something to hide, but when you drop off their food, he hits you with a wink and a quiet “thanks, babe.” He pays for the whole group, and you notice a note scribbled on the back of the customer’s copy of the receipt. I’ll pick you up after your shift. You tuck the note into your bra and let him catch you smiling to yourself as you start to clean off the table.

Sure enough, his Mercedes is parked out front when you leave a few hours later. He’s leaning against it, scrolling through his phone, but he stops abruptly when he notices you standing a few feet away from him.

“Good shift?” he asks, raising one eyebrow at you.

“Eh, it was alright,” you joke with a shrug. “Some weirdo left me a note, though.”

“You gotta be careful when talking to strangers, Y/N.” He takes a step forward and grabs your hand, tugging you closer to him. “They might get the wrong idea.” He whispers his second sentence against the corner of your mouth, pressing a hard kiss there to really drive his point home. Within seconds, though, he’s gone. When you turn around, he’s holding the passenger door open for you with a little smirk on his lips.

“C’mon, I’ve got something to show you,” he says. With a shy smile on your face, you climb inside and let him shut the door behind you. He’s quiet during the drive, again, but this time, his free hand is wrapped around your thigh, just below the hem of your skirt. It’s another short drive, and he pulls into a palm-tree-lined driveway. A large, beachfront mansion slowly comes into view as he makes his way down the driveway. He parks right out front, between a large fountain and the stairs up to the front door, and leaves the keys on the seat.

“What do you think?” He asks you as he helps you out of the car with one hand and gestures to the house with the other.

“It’s gorgeous,” you breathe. “Is it one of your rental properties?” You play dumb, like it hadn’t even occurred to you that he’d bring you to his house.

“Nope, this one’s mine. And Sarah’s away for the weekend…” He trails off with a shit-eating grin and holds the door open for you. As he shows you around the first floor, you oooh and ahhh in all the right places, all wide-eyed innocence and fuck me eyes. The tour ends in the kitchen, where he pops a bottle of Dom Perignon and pours you each a glass. You accept it gratefully and take a long sip, letting the cold bubbles dance on your tongue for a moment before you swallow. Both of you lean against the counter as you sip, chatting about some of the small details of the house that he was the proudest of.

The champagne is just a pretense, something to make it seem like you weren’t just here to hook up. But when the glasses are empty, that changes. Topper reaches across your chest to take the empty glass from your hand. Instead of pulling it back towards him, he just leans forward further to set it on the counter on your other side and then side-steps so he’s standing in front of you with his arms caging you between him and the counter.

“This okay?” He mutters as he leans in, stopping just as his lips brush against yours. You nod and look up at him through your eyelashes, lifting your lips in a shy smile. That’s all the permission he needs and his lips are pressed against yours within seconds. His hips press into yours, pushing your back into the edge of the counter, so you wriggle a bit to give him the hint to knock it off. Instead, he hooks his hands under your thighs and lifts you up onto the countertop. This causes your skirt to bunch up a bit and Topper takes advantage of the newly-exposed skin. To his credit, he doesn’t push your limits, seeming content to stick to exposed skin only. But you know he won’t stay patient for long if the hardness against your thigh is any indication.

You hear the tell-tale sign of a lawn mower starting up somewhere outside and freeze, clutching onto Topper’s shoulders as if staying still will somehow make you invisible.

“Can we go somewhere more… private?” You ask, shooting a nervous glance at the large window above the sink to your right.

“Absolutely,” he says, taking a quick nip at your bottom lip. Instead of stepping back to let you off the counter, he just hoists you up into his arms. You cling on for dear life as he takes you up the grand staircase in the entryway. He opens the first door on the left and doesn’t even bother turning the lights on before he sets you down and his lips are on yours again. His back is facing the door and you take advantage of that, pushing forward until he’s pressed flat against it. You swallow his grunt of surprise and then trail your lips down his neck as you drop to your knees in front of him.

***

The next time, you invite Topper to your place and let him return the favor. Then, he takes you to two more of his rental properties where you do everything but penetrative sex before Sarah leaves town and he finally brings you back to his house again.

This time, you let him go all the way. It’s not bad, but it could definitely be better. You keep him occupied for a while, and when he’s facedown on the bed recovering, you offer to go make him a cup of coffee.

“That would be great, thanks babe,” he groans, voice slightly muffled by the pillow underneath him. You throw on his abandoned button-down and pad down the stairs to start the coffee maker. That gives you just a few minutes of unsupervised time in his house, so you sneak down the hall to his study. The door’s unlocked, but when you try the desk drawers, they won’t budge. There are keyholes at the top of each drawer, and from your inspection, it looks like the same key would open them all. His computer’s asleep, and it’s password-protected, which doesn’t surprise you. For good measure, you run your hands alongside the bottom of the wood just in case there’s anything hidden there, but no such luck. The coffee maker beeps and interrupts your search, but you’re content with the intel you’ve gathered. As you pour two mugs of coffee, you start to devise a plan. A quick detour to the bathroom on your way back upstairs proves fruitful, you find a bottle of Trazodone prescribed to Sarah, and crush up three pills, stirring them into Topper’s coffee.

He’s out like a light forty-five minutes later, but you wait another hour just to make sure. Then, you sneak back downstairs with your backpack. A USB drive with password-cracking software downloaded goes straight into the computer, and while the program runs, you manage to pick the locks on three of the five drawers.

Four hours later, you slip back upstairs with two USB drives full of information, and photos of the most incriminating documents saved on your burner phone. Everything is zipped into the hidden pocket inside the lining of your backpack and you curl up next to Topper to sleep as if nothing has happened.

The next morning, you wake up before he does and decide to give him a little wake-up surprise. It serves its purpose and distracts him long enough for you to make your exit, smuggling the evidence out with you, leaving him none the wiser.

You get into work and take a moment to let out the tension you had been holding in all night. Slumping against the wall in the staff break room, you pull out your phone and type out another message to Sarah.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

RE: RE: Status Update [ENCRYPTED]

I GOT IT!!!!!! Evidence is in hand. I know the hearing’s not for another two weeks, so I can hold onto it until then if you want me to. Also, sorry, I stole a few of your Trazodones. Hopefully getting the evidence makes up for that, haha.

By the time your day shift is over, she’s responded, so you take a second to answer her before you head home for the night.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

RE: RE: RE: Status Update [ENCRYPTED]

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! I knew you could do it! I’ll stop by in the morning on my way to the courthouse, if that’s okay?

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

RE: RE: Status Update [ENCRYPTED]

Works for me! I’m just glad I was able to get it in time.

The next two weeks pass by in a blur of work and secret meetups with Topper, who suspects absolutely nothing. You’re still his shiny new toy, dressed up like a present for him to unwrap. The only time he mentions the impending divorce hearing is late one night when he shows up at your place unannounced. His kisses taste like whiskey and the smell of cigarette smoke lingers on his jacket. You lead him to the bedroom right away, knowing that he’s looking for a way to get out some of his drunken frustrations, and sure enough, his lips loosen as he’s pounding you into the mattress with one hand pressed against your stomach to hold you in place.

“I can’t fuckin believe she’s taking me to court,” he growls into your neck. “Bitch is trying to take half my shit. Thinks she can get our prenup annulled, ha! My lawyers will fuckin ruin her.”

You coo sweet nothings into his ear and brush his hair back from his forehead, which seems to calm him down a bit. Other than that one night, though, he’s been pretty much silent on the whole situation.

The morning of the hearing is here in no time, and headlights shine through your windows as Sarah pulls into your driveway. She’s behind the wheel of Topper’s Mercedes and her hair is pulled back into a low bun with a black and white silk head scarf wrapped around it. Topper’s signature aviators cover half of her face, and somehow she makes it look elegant. A black kitten heel is the first thing you see as she steps out of the car, followed by a tight-fitting yet modest black dress.

“Hey girl,” she says as she approaches the front door that you’re holding open for her.

“Hi! You look incredible,” you tell her. “Topper’s gonna lose his shit.” She giggles and lets you lead her into the kitchen.

“That’s the plan.” She notices the manila envelope sitting on the kitchen counter and runs her fingers along its edge. “Is this it?”

“Yep, it’s all there.”

“Perfect.” The grin on her face is positively wicked as she picks it up and slides it into her oversized leather bag. “Are you going to the courthouse?”

‘I’m gonna try and sneak into the back row right before it starts. That way, he won’t notice me, at least not until after it’s too late.”

“Well, then I’ll see you there!” Sarah sounds genuinely excited about that prospect, and she reaches out to squeeze your hand. “Seriously, Y/N, thank you. I couldn’t have done this without you.” You squeeze her hand back.

“Feels kind of weird for you to thank me when you literally paid me to sleep with your husband.” You chuckle. “ But you’re welcome. And good luck today!” With one final, soft smile, she’s out the door and on her way.

You change into your own revenge dress; it shows off more skin than Sarah’s, which seems fitting for playing the part of the mistress who betrayed him. Black platform sandals and your own pair of oversized sunglasses complete the look, and you manage to make it into the courtroom just as the judge is swearing everyone in.

The proceedings are tedious at first; it’s mostly just both lawyers establishing the facts of the case, but when Sarah is called up to the stand to make her statement, things take a dramatic turn.

“I’m Sarah Thornton, and I have new evidence to submit,” she says as she reaches into her bag and hands the envelope over to the judge. He flips through the papers quickly, then calls the lawyers back into his chambers to go over this new information.

“What the fuck?” Topper yells, lunging forwards as Sarah passes his seat. His lawyer is fast, though, and holds Topper back, whispering a stern warning. She just flashes a sweet smile and heads back to her seat, sitting with her head held high, a calm statue in the face of his messy outrage.

It’s nearly an hour before the judge and lawyers reemerge and things move quickly after that. The judge nullifies the prenup, stating that Topper violated one of its clauses and therefore it is no longer valid. His face is burning with rage but he bites his tongue because his lawyer’s got a death grip on his arm. Sarah is awarded the house and all material possessions, with Topper retaining only a small fraction of the cash assets they shared as a couple. It doesn’t really matter, though, because then two cops burst through the doors and make a beeline for a seething Topper.

“Topper Thornton, you are under arrest for insider trading and money laundering. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you…” the officer on the right recites as his partner puts Topper in cuffs. The man is wild-eyed, turning his head back and forth between Sarah and his lawyer, trying to put the pieces together.

As the police are leading him out of the courtroom, his eyes lock onto yours and his eyes blaze with fury.

“You fucking bitch!” he spits at you, poison dripping from his lips.

“Bye, Topper,” you say, voice light and airy as you waggle your fingers at him in a little wave. You hear him grunting and struggling to break free, but the cops have a good grip on him so he’s not able to escape. Once he’s been escorted off the premises, the judge smacks his gavel against his podium.

“Case dismissed!” He says, and the hearing is officially over. Sarah rushes over to you, squealing, and loops her arm through yours. The two of you walk down the steps, out of the courthouse, and onto the street, into a better and brighter future.

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annas-hair-donut · 3 months

Text

This comes from the next (last) chapter of Head Over Feet. Honestly not sure when I'll post this chapter, but not before Smut Week. Anyway, have some Kristanna cuteness til then!

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

Anna jumped at the ding of her email, just Olaf letting the office know the men’s restroom on the 4th floor would be out of order for the next three hours.

She took a deep breath and wiped her damp hands on her non-absorbent chiffon skirt. It wasn’t the right material for work, especially on a stressful day, but Anna was feeling particularly rebellious. And prepared.

She reached for the single strand of pearls hanging from her neck and twisted it around her fingers while she remembered how they got there.

She had been running late that morning because everything she tried on looked even more Laura Petrie than the one before, and Kristoff’s knock took her off guard.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she whispered with her hands on her hips.

“I just need a second,” he said, and he looked her up and down as he shut the door behind him.

His smirk looked smug because Anna had smiled when she caught his eyes lingering.

Anna raked her eyes over every surface of his body, the crisp cleanness of his stiff collar, the sharp, symmetrical knot of his tie, the smooth chisel of his jaw, and the still wet helmet of blond hair protecting his head. He was dependable like a statue, but there was only so much he could withstand before a smile cracked through his lips and his eyes sparkled warm with devotion.

Anna lifted her hands to his cheeks so he wouldn’t crumble.

“I wanted to give this to you personally.” He handed her a box that must have barely fit in his jacket pocket.

Anna opened the white, unmarked box, flashing her eyes at him repeatedly as she did so. Inside was a magenta colored leather envelope, folded over with a snap.

Anna’s heart pounded when she looked at him with widened eyes.

His eyebrows shifted while half of his mouth curved a little more.

The bottom of the box fell to the floor as Anna opened the snap. Her fingers traced the strand of pearls, shiny with hints of pink and blue.

“Kristoff,” she said, her voice choking unexpectedly, “this is too much!”

He took the strand from the envelope and held the ends apart. Anna held her hair up as she turned around. He kissed the back of her neck before wrapping the pearls around it.

“You can’t be a real mid-century housewife without pearls.”

Anna snorted as she dropped her hair.

“Did you know that Mary Tyler Moore fought the network to wear pants for one scene in every episode of the Dick van Dyke Show?”

Anna smiled and he said, “You’re more powerful than you know.”

“You know a lot about classic tv!”

“Mary Tyler Moore was my first crush.” Then he whispered, “She still does it for me.”

Anna giggled and said, “Thank you, Kristoff. I love it.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered, “Almost as much as the strawberries.”

He pulled away and she said, “Olaf told me.”

She was pulled back to the present by another Outlook ding, a calendar appointment, followed by a knock on her door.

#wip wednesday #frozen #kristanna #frozen fanfic #kristanna fanfic #head over feet

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sweetsweetjellybean · 1 year

Text

This one's for you @boomhauer

Black

Eddie Munson x FemReader Inspired by Black by Pearl Jam

TW: Very Dark. Tiny itty bitty baby smut. Selfharm, violence, death, & just over all angst and sadness.

Special thanks to @loveshotzz for keeping me off the ledge

>>>>

The sky is streaked with the pink and orange of the setting sun as you turn your car's wheels off the pavement to the dirt and gravel road that leads to the old warehouse that serves as your studio. Your gloved hand stabs the key in the lock, and the rusty metal door groans as you force it open. The lights come on with a thud after you flip the switch just inside the doorway. You remove all your clothes except your velvet opera gloves before selecting one of Eddie's shirts that hang on a metal clothing rack. Slipping it over your head, you tie up your hair before moving further into the nearly empty space. The swinging lights above create shadows that move back and forth slowly over the blank canvas in the center of the room. Your toes dig into the softness of the old carpet stained with drops and splatters of dried paint. Patiently you wait for your brain to settle on an image that will soon flow from your fingers, from the brush, from the paint to the canvas recreating the nightmares that still control you.

The wind moans and whistles as it pushes through the cracks in the drafty walls. The lights flicker, breaking your concentration. The power frequently goes out in the remote building, but when you have nothing to lose, you're not afraid of things that reside in the dark. You peel off your gloves and toss them to the floor before striking a match to light the candles scattered around the room, sitting on top of stacked crates that double as a work surface holding pots of paint and framed photographs of you and Eddie.

Your agent often bemoans that you choose to work here, offering to set you up in a lovely space in the city. She doesn't understand your need for solitude or why she has to act as a bodyguard at your art exhibitions. Never letting anyone get too close. Answering questions directed to you, like the mother of a shy child. You hate the crowds of people that treat you like a curiosity, the fragile, mentally ill girl that hides her hands and creates dark otherworldly paintings. But these remoras pay top dollar and come away with a little story of your odd behavior to tell their friends while showing off the art they think owning makes them cool and sophisticated.

The candlelight reflects off the glass covering the photographs. Eddie's face is beautiful and smiling but looking at him triggers the screams in your head. The screams from the day six years ago when you lost him. They are becoming louder and louder. Pressing your hands over your ears, you lie down on the floor and curl into a little ball. Tears stream down your face as you plead for it to stop. Flashes of blood and death fill your mind, you're breathing faster, but the air isn't filling your lungs. Your eyes tunnel, and everything goes black.

The cold from the concrete floor seeping through the thin rug pulls you back into consciousness. Your eyes blink open, and you sit up, causing your head to spin. The panic attacks happen a few times a week, and no amount of therapy or drugs makes a difference. Anything can trigger them, a child's laughter, the light bouncing off a glass, or a familiar smell. So you live alone, in the silence, in the black, counting the hours until you can join him. Standing, you pick up your brush dipping the soft bristles into the creamy red on your palate before moving it to canvas. Sometimes your fragmented mind will offer a brief reprieve from the horror. You'll blink and suddenly be in that open field, the soft overgrown grass curling around your knees as you sit cross-legged on the ground filling bottles with fuel next to Steve and Robin. Then he's there, his warm, rough hand pulling you up.

"Cover us for a few minutes, Harrington," he calls back to Steve as he pulls you into the privacy of the woods. The tree bark scrapes your back as he presses against you, his frenzied mouth kissing every part of your face before sealing over your giggling lips. His tongue dips inside, and he hums out his pleasure.

"I love you. You know that, don't you?" He asks, cradling your face in his hands.

"I do," you reply, trying to chase his lips.

"I hate that you're here. I wish you never got involved. That you were somewhere far away where I knew you were safe." Your hands fist the material of his shirt. "Haven't you figured it out yet? I would walk through hell as long as I was with you." His eyes close, and his lips are back on yours, stealing your breath and making you dizzy. Your fingers start to work open his belt. He lays out the blanket he nicked from the camper and folds his jacket under your head. Two sets of hands push down your jeans, his mouth is on your center, and his eyes never leave yours as he watches you come undone.

"I love you," you sigh as he pushes inside, filling you up, and you're a stupid, stupid girl taking it for granted, not savoring the last moments you'll ever be complete again.

The brush glides furiously back and forth around the canvas before dipping into the purple, the white, the black. The colors mix to reveal the ugly grim nature of the Upside Down. Your hands are moving of their own accord as your mind slingshots back to when it all went bad and turned your world to black.

Dustin is still. His head hangs down, hands covering his face. The four of you are running towards him, trying not to slip on the dead bats in your path. It isn't until he sees you and starts limping forward, arms outstretched, yelling, "No. Don't come any closer," that you notice Eddie's body on the ground. A scream rips out of your throat. Dustin's arms clamp around your waist, holding you back.

"Stop. She doesn't need to see him like this. Steve, help me." But Steve is too shocked to act. The adrenaline courses through you, and you push Dustin as hard as possible, sending him to the ground. He yelps and clutches his already injured ankle. The others stop beside him, trying to find the source of his injury.

Dropping to your knees, you pull Eddie into your lap, screaming and screaming. His beautiful, burnt-umber eyes are wide open, but the light is gone. The wounds on his chest are trickling blood, and you press hands against them, trying in vain to stop the flow.

"Eddie, wake up. You're okay. You're okay." You cry while your blood-covered hands smear more across his face. Hands cover your biceps from behind and begin to pull you away.

"We have to go."

"No. No. I can't leave him." You try using your body weight to pull out of Steve's hold.

"He's gone. We can't stay here." The ground shakes under you. The other vine-covered trailers are groaning like they may collapse. He tightens his hold, and you keep screaming, trying to hold on to Eddie as he lifts you from the ground. Eddie's body is too heavy, you're not strong enough, and he slips through your hands back to the cold ground. You fight him. You fight as hard as you can. "Nancy, help me," Steve yells. She moves to your other side and grabs your flailing arm, using it to drag you toward the trailer.

"What's wrong with you? We can't leave him. I want to stay. Eddie!"

They manage to get you to the trailer. Nancy loses her grip, and you grab hold of the chain link that's installed around the door. "Let go," Steve commands, trying to pull you inside. "I don't want to hurt you. Let go." He rips you away. The chain links jagged metal edges cut into your hands. He picks you up from the middle, forcing you inside. "Let me go," you scream, trying to grab anything you can. Your fingers wedge between the glass slats of the window as he carries you past the door. They crack and shatter, slicing your hands. The shards embed into your skin You squeeze your hands into tight fists, driving the glass deeper, mixing Eddie's blood with yours. Steve sets you down but keeps his hands on your shoulders. "You can't stay. You'll die too." He yells in your face.

"I want to," you say calmly, dragging the glass stuck in your palms down your forearms to the back of your hands. "Stop it." Steve grabs your hands, trying to hold them away from your body. Nancy and Robin rush back into the room carrying more sheets they knotted together, throwing them through the gate. The boost up Dustin getting him through first. Steve drags you to the opening. "You're going. Climb!"

"No," you scream, trying to escape. "Please!" Dustin yells from above you. "Please. Do it for him." Eddie's love for Dustin is the only reason you comply. It's the same reason you hate him later. Bitterly, you hate them all. You climb hand over hand, driving the glass deeper.

Lighting flashes outside, startling you. Your hip bumps into the crate, knocking the photo frame to the floor. The black paint has spilled over the edge dripping onto the picture. A cry leaves your lips, and you dive for the photo. Grabbing a rag, you settle on the floor, wiping off the paint before it works its way under the edges of the protective glass.

Pulling your knees up to your chest, you take in the terrible beauty you've created on the canvas. Your eyes scan the red clouds. You know he's there. He's always there. It wasn't until your first sold-out show that you noticed him. Walking through the gallery after everyone was gone, taking one last look before your paintings would all be gone. He caught your eye as you walked by, his face staring back at you mixed in with the clouds. You ran from painting to painting, finding him in all of them. If they hadn't already been sold, you would have never parted with them, but maybe that was what is meant to be, him living in someone else's sky, forever leaving you behind. Standing, you move closer to the painting, searching, searching. There he is, you smile, your scared fingers hovering over the wet paint. Now that you've found him, you can let him go until the next time.

Masterlist

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #stranger things #big sad #fic request #eddie munson stranger things

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cevansbrat0007 · 2 years

Text

Bathroom Busybodies

Summary: When you show up at your boyfriend's office for the first time, the only thing you're anticipating is a lunch date with your man. You didn't bank on having to deal with gossipy coworkers.

Warnings: Fluff, Cursing, Implied Smut, Andrew Barber, Bitchy Coworkers, Confident Reader, Ignorance, Minors DNI

A/N: Prompt courtesy of @christhickevans. Part of my ongoing Growing Pains Series. I look forward to everyone's feedback if you feel like giving it. All mistakes my own.

___

After pulling into the parking lot and turning off your car, you take a moment to triple check your make-up. For today's lunch date with Andy, you'd chosen a pale pink, tie waist blouse that you then paired with a pair of cropped white capri pants and blush colored wedge sandals.

You'd finished off the look with a pair of pearl earrings and a light dusting of makeup.

It might just be your own opinion, but you looked pretty damned good.

Even though he was expecting you, you still fire off a quick text letting him know that you had arrived. Grabbing your bag, you exit your vehicle and make your way into the County Prosecutor's Office Building.

You were so excited to see where your man worked. And, of course, for your date.

When you enter the building, you state your business and the person you're here to meet. They wand you down, have you walk through a metal detector, and then they allow you to sign in.

"Is Mr. Barber aware that you're here?" Asks the woman at reception.

"Uh, he should be. He's expecting me. Plus I sent him a message when I arrived so..."

"Okay, well, we do have you on our approved list of visitors so we'll get someone to take you back there in just a moment. Just let me find - ahh Henry! Can please escort this lovely lady to Andrew Barber's office? He's expecting her."

The older black security guard gives you a onceover before motioning for you to follow him down the hall. He doesn't speak until you're both far away enough from everyone else.

"You in some kinda trouble, Miss?" He grunts.

Your eyes go wide. "Huh? What? No!" You sputter.

"Didn't mean nothin' by it. I was hopin' you weren't. You just remind me of my own little girl, is all. Well, that and not too many folks visit the District Attorney's office to, well, visit." He shrugs.

"No, no. It's okay. I, um, Andrew Barber is my...well, we're dating."

"Oh." Is all he says.

Oh?

"Well, this is your stop Miss."

"Um, well. Thank you." You mumble.

"Not a problem. But just, uh, word to the wise. No matter how nice they seem, these attorney types are all slick devils. Have yet to meet one that isn't. Watch yourself kiddo." He gives your arm a fatherly squeeze.

And with that he's on his way, just in time for Andy to swing open the door and nearly careen headlong into you with his big body.

"Oh shit!" Your man jumps backwards. "Hi, Y/N." He breathes, running a hand through his hair. "I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting."

He drags you into his arms. "God, how do you manage to get more beautiful every time I see you?" Andy rasps as he presses a kiss to your knuckles, making you giggle. "Fuck, I've missed that laugh. It kinda makes you sound like Betty Rubble."

It had only been two days...

You step back so that you can reach up and cup his bearded face, your thumbs gently massaging the apples of his cheeks. "So I see you've got jokes, huh, Mr. Barber?"

"What? No jokes." He presses a brief kiss to the inside of your wrist. "I think it's cute."

You smile up at him, and then you take a moment to appreciate how good he looks. "I like this tie, Big Man. You're looking awfully sexy right now. I might, uh, have to jump your bones in your office before we go." You purr, lust coursing through you.

"Is that an offer? Because if so, I graciously accept." He responds with a sinful grin. God, this man had the word "sin" written all over him. It was practically etched into his skin.

You throw him a saucy wink before looking around. Convinced that you're both alone, you allow one hand to trail its way down his body so that you can cup him through his pants. You give him a light, but meaningful squeeze, before gripping his belt to pull him flush against you.

"Feed me first, and I'll blow you later." You murmur.

"You are incorrigible." He growls softly.

"Only because the man I'm dating is hellbent on corrupting me." You whisper back. "He's supposed to be a force for good when, in reality, all he does is make me wanna be bad." You bite your lip.

"Fuck!'" Andy hisses as he reaches down to adjust himself. "Come on, you little minx. I've gotta grab a couple of things from my office and then we'll go. Seafood or sushi?"

"Ooh, tough call, baby. Do you have a prefence?" You ask your boyfriend as he grabs your hand and leads you inside.

"If I did would I have asked you?" You can't see the smirk, but you knew it was there. "I would've just told you where we were going. And you would've been fine with it."

"So cocky..."

"I prefer the term confident. And it comes with the territory, baby." He looks over his shoulder to shoot you a wink of his own. "Mmm! Got a couple of folks I wanted to introduce you to as well...let's see." You can feel yourself starting to sweat.

Had you applied enough deodorant this morning? Was Secret Deodorant's Lilac & Lavendar Garden Fresh scent truly strong enough to keep all of your secrets?

"Oh, now you remember Max. You met him -"

"At that gala last month!" You finish for him. "Nice to see you again." You say to the kind, slighly balding man."

"Likewise, Y/N. Glad to see you're still around keeping this guy here in line. Lord knows he needs it!" He lets out a hearty chuckle. "You two enjoy your lunch."

"And this here is Cynthia." He gestures to a lovely brunette sitting a desk away from Max. "She's only been with us for a few months, but she's proven herself to be a great addition to the team. Cindy, this is my girlfriend, Y/N."

"Hi." You offer her a smile and a wave, which she returns. But you can't help but notice that the smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. Oh well.

"And this is Lucas and Alanna..."

On and on it went. Introduction after introduction. Some with folks you'd met before, while some were brand new faces. Most everyone was friendly. But there had been a couple people that you'd gotten an "off" vibe from. All women. Not many, but still.

"I just gotta grab my wallet, sweet girl, and then you and I can be on our way. Did you decide yet?"

"Hmm...still thinking. Can I use the bathroom before we go?"

"Sure thing, baby. Here, give me your bag. I'll put it in my office while we're out."

"But what if I need -" You start to protest.

"You won't be needing shit." You open your mouth again. "Don't you start with me, sweetheart. We both know how this works." He pulls you against him to whisper in your ear. "You know better than to even think about reaching into your little wallet while you're out with me. Now go to the bathroom. It's down the hall on your right."

Stepping back, your hands go to smooth down your blouse. "One of these days, you are going to let me pay." You sniff before turning and heading towards the bathroom.

"Yeah, right." You hear him scoff.

I am right damn it!

Once inside, you check your makeup. Still good.

Overall appearance? Still good.

Alright with apparently dating an overbearing ogre? Yep, still good.

With a sigh, you head into a stall to do your business. You were anxious to be alone with your man.

You're just finishing up when you hear several women enter the facilities. No one goes into a stall or anything, so you assume they're either checking their own makeup or it's time for girl talk.

Shit. It wasn't like you could throw stones. You were guilty of doing both.

The corporate female bathroom was a safe space. Usually.

"Oh my god. Did you see her, Janice? I mean, it just blows my mind."

"I know." The other woman, whom you assume must be Janice, fires back. "Look, I'd heard the rumors. But there was no way I actually believed he had moved on. I mean, Laurie was my friend. And two years after she dies he waltzes in here with...with this bitch?"

"Calm down you two." A third voice chimes in. "We all know he's just with her for the optics. It's a good look. Our department gets flack all of the time for trying and convicting a disproportionate amount of African American offenders over virtually every other population."

"You make a good point, Cindy."

Why, hello, Cynthia. You snaggle-toothed bitch.

"Exactly. It's all about how it makes us look. Andrew Barber is smart like that. How could they possibly continue to accuse our department of racial prejudice when the goddamned District Attorney is "supposedly" dating some random black bitch?"

Black bitch, huh? Oh, I got your bitch right here. You go to flush the toilet to make them aware of your presence, but before you can...

You hear what sounds like a sniffle, which makes you frown.

"Oh Alanna, sweetheart. Oh sweetie, don't cry."

"I'm sorry, Janice. I am. I know Laurie was your friend, but I had been hoping that maybe...just maybe...he'd look at me. I mean, I've been here for years. I thought that maybe we were building towards something."

"You know what, Lana? I'd be okay if it was you. I would. You're not just some tramp he dragged in off the street. You're not just some money hungry whore looking for a Sugar Daddy. You've worked hard for everything you have." Janice reassures poor, heartbroken Allison or whatever the hell her name was.

Oh, and I haven't you basic ass bitches?

"You know what? Even if this is all for optics and whatnot, I met the woman for two minutes and I can already tell you that I don't like her. I bet she's all fake, just like her ass. I swear, I'd put my money on injections." Janice spits. Or was it Janet? Jaqulyn maybe? Whatever.

The feeling is mutual cupcake. Ain't a bit of love lost over here either.

"And you know what? I'll even take it a step farther. I cannot wait until he dumps her. I give this whole thing a month."

Alright, that's it. You've heard all you can take at this point. Vicious little vultures.

You choose that moment to flush the toilet and exit the stall. You smile as they all three shrink back in shock.

"Hello, ladies." You do your best to keep your tone conversational. "You three discussing anyone I know?"

Silence.

"Because if you were, then I could tell you that this girl doesn't really care for any of you either. I just happen to possess a bit more tact than you do. And Amanda, wipe the tears, honey. Even if he wasn't dating me, he doesn't want you. Woman up and move on already. Woman to woman, you're coming off as kind of pathetic."

"It's Alanna." She whispers.

"You're not important enough for me to care." You whisper back as you wash your hands.

"Now, Julia -"

"It's Janice." She hisses.

"Ain't that what I said?" You ask with a quirked brow. "I get his ex-wife was your friend and all, but get over it. I'm not after Andrew Barber's money. Also, I've worked hard for everything I have. Just in case you were curious. And, by the way, this luscious ass is all real. Just because you're rocking a pancake booty doesn't mean you have to be jealous. Come on. It's beneath you. At least it should be. Be proud of your flat ass, sugar." You wink at her.

You go to dry your hands.

"And hello, Sydney. Sydney was it?"

"It's Cindy. But you may call me Cynthia." She tells you, her tone haughty.

"Yeah, hi Sydney. You're right about the fact that Andrew is a very smart man. After all, he clearly recognizes greatness when he sees it." You shamelessly point at yourself. "But he's not with me for the optics. If I even thought that was the case. Even for a moment, he'd spend the rest of his life walking with a limp."

You toss your paper towel into the trash.

"Now, I've got a feeling that I'm gonna be around for a good long while. So you all had better shut up and get used to it. Let me catch you talking shit about me again and this black bitch won't be so nice next time. We clear?"

All three women nod.

"Good. So glad we made time for this conversation. It's been great getting to know the real you. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm late for my date."

With that, you flounce out of the bathroom and grab your boyfriend's hand.

"Y/N. Is everything okay? What took you so long? I was starting to get worried." You watch as the other women slowly come trotting out of the bathroom. Of course they immediately take note of your joined hands.

"Sorry, Andy Bear. I just getting to know some of your team a little bit better. Did you know that they're super concerned about the department optics?" You make sure your voice carries, enjoying the fact that they all look sick. "I can't wait to fill you in over lunch. I choose seafood by the way, darling. Let's go."

"As you wish, sweetheart."

END

#chris evans #andy barber #chris evans black!reader #andy barber black!reader #chris evans woc!reader #andy barber woc!reader #chris evans imagines #chris evans fanfic #andy barber imagines #andy barber fanfic #cevansbrat0007 fics #cevansbrat0007 asks #cevansbrat0007growing pains series

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anarcoqueer1994 · 1 year

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Steddie brain rot with some anti Tommy

So maybe I'm rewatching the original US QAF and maybe I'm thinking about that scene with Justin and Chris Hobbs on Liberty Ave.

Hawkins gay scene in the mid-1980s was nothing to write home about, but if you knew where to look, it was there. It was a block of their own, where the businesses were supportive, and the houses were all owned by the queers. Many people saw it as the bad part of the town, but for those who knew, it was a sanctuary. There had an unspoken agreement, they don't out anyone who doesn't want to be outed. There in thier space everyone was free to be themselves.

There was of course, the Hideout, a little dive bar who's clientele was definitely not straight. There was a convenient store next to it who's workers didn't think twice when two guys would come stumbling in, arms wrapped around each other, looking for condoms. In fact they hung information posters up, reminding people that condoms and safe sax wasn't just to prevent pregnancy. They were advocating for themselves, each other when the local government(or national) had failed to do so. There was a little shop, advertising 18+ that sold things that would have Regan yuppies and the moral majority raising thier nose and clutching thier pearls. But it was a place that accepted the queer community.

Finally, there was Diane's diner across from there, a 24 hour restaurant that has been a place of solace for the folks that usually have to hide. It's also a place where the local AIDs coalition meets to coordinate meal delivery for those in Hawkins and the surrounding small towns who cannot leave thier house, too sick. Many of them don't even have family of thier own to take care of them. Everyone from the Party, both older teens and the teens still is high school often went to these, volunteering to make food, and Steve promising to drive it wherever it needs to go.

But tonight Steve, Eddie, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, and Argylewere here to hang out at the Hideout. Corroded Coffin wasn't playing but they wanted to get out, be themselves. They wanted to drink, and dance, and not have to pretend for one night.

They walked as a group out of the bar, all holding onto each other. Liquid courage helping them put down thier inhibitions. Jonathan holding Argyle close by the waist, Nancy letting Robin wrap her arm around her shoulders while she slides her hand into Robin's back pocket, and Eddie pulling Steve under his arm, forgetting the meaning of personal space.

They let themselves be free here. Even their clothes were a little louder, allowing themselves to dress more butch, dress more feminine, dress gaudy, dress slutty, just dress how they like. Robin wore a dress shirt and a loose tie, contrasting the tight pants and loud makeup, Nancy wore a sleeveless, fitted button down, cut to show off her torso and high waisted denim shorts and a belt. Argyle wore his regular clothes, already loud enough, but loved that Jonathan was wearing his torn Clash shirt held together with safety pins, and tight leather pants and heavy boots. Finally, Eddie, like Argyle usually dresses loud enough, but opting to pair his black jeans with a cropped Metallica shirt this time, showing off the little tattoo low on his stomach, just above his groan that says Steve, having Gareth stick and poke it on him in his living room 3 weeks before. He wore a black hankie in his left pocket. But Steve, the polo princess himself, was the most shocking change. He wore short black shorts with a cropped mesh top, he had mid calf socks on and tennis shoes. He even wore eyeliner and strawberry lip gloss(his favorite since the summer he worked at Scoops.) Of course he wore a matching hankie but in his right pocket, loving being put on display, being able to share that he's with Eddie.

They are all laughing and having fun, when suddenly Steve stops in his tracks, causing Eddie and the other's to stop too. "What is it baby?" Eddie whispers.

"Look." He points with his head getting them all to look over at the group of people coming from the other direction towards the bar. People didn't come down here unless they were queer, and this group had no right being their. It was Tommy, with his arm wrapped around Carol, a couple of the other keg boys Steve used to hang out with, and thier girlfriends. All of these people he has heard torment queer (or suspected queer) kids in high school even if he wasn't out yet(though Tommy knew) "Why are they here?!" He is pissed.

Robin grabs his shoulder softly, "It's fine, Steve. How about we just go home?" Steve looks back at her incredulously. Jonathan is nodding, agreement in his face. They both look nervous. Steve guesses that people like Robin and Jonathan didn't necessarily have the best experience in High school having to deal with people like Tommy...like him. And he wants to fix that.

"They have no right to be here." He says anger still in his voice. Eddie pulls him closer, kissing his cheek. "Stevie, what do you wanna do?"

"Just give me a moment..." He holds up a finger, before pulling away. They all watch as he walks up to the other group. The beer and the couple shots of vodka making him braver.

"Harrington?" Tommy asks, almost laughing. "What the fuck are you wearing? God, I knew you would eventually fuckin lose it and come out as fucking fairy." The rest of Steve's group coming up behind him, he wishes they wouldn't have since now they are going to get wrapped up in this. A few people walk the streets on either side of them, coming and going from the bar.

"What are you doing down here, Tommy?" Steve spits, ignoring the previous comments.

Tommy steps closer, Carol under his arm. "You know, checking out the freaks." He sneers.

Steve leans closer "Down here, you're the freak." He grins, matching the ugly sneer on Tommy's face.

"What did you call me, faggot?" He pushes closer getting to close to Steve. Hearing and seeing this, Eddie walks closer, stepping between the two men. But Steve barely notices. Instead he pulls away, turning to the crowd forming around them

"Hey excuse me. Ugh this is Tommy Hagan. He just called me a faggot." There were a few gasps, with Robin smiling at him as the other's in his group looking dumbfounded. Tommy's group was equally as confused.

"Tommy doesn't like faggots. Or.." a big smile forms across his face. "Maybe he likes them more than he thinks."

"Shut up, Harrington." Tommy says behind gritted teeth.

Steve just smirks and finishes. "He let me suck his cock. The faggot gave Tommy Hagan a blow job." Steve leans back in his face, past Eddie. "And he loved it."

He is referring to a time sophomore when Steve blew him after school in the locker room. Steve was just realizing he was bi, and they wanted to do it. But Tommy never wanted to talk about it again after it, even if Steve had made him cum moaning his name, too ashamed, gaslit Steve into believing for years it was just him, that Tommy didn't really like it.

Tommy is shaking with anger as his friends look at him. With the growing crowd, he knew he couldn’t fight Steve here. So he shoves his finger in Steve’s chest and says "You are so fucking dead, Harrington." Before turning around storming off.

His friends gather around him, so fucling proud of him, pulling him into hugs. Eddie wraps his arms around Steve’s waist from behind, pulling him close and kissing his cheek. "You go, baby girl."

And Steve can't help but glow, walking to his Beemer, clinging to his friends. He knows tomorrow when this gets out, his life will be hell but for tonight, he's happy.

#stranger things fanfiction #ficlet #steddie #ronance #jargyle #steve harrington #Eddie munson #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #jonathan byers #argyle #tommy hagan #queer as folk

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caseopened · 23 days

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The thing about Paul Drake is that his body movement will always carry this stillness, or perhaps a better descriptor is calm collection. Nothing about the way he moves is sloppy, jagged, or choppy.

I've spoken about this in scattered bits throughout meta posts, but I wanted to pull this all together, as it manifests in a variety of ways:

the way he disarms someone This is especially the case when an attacker pulls a gun or poses a physical threat--- Paul's method is to remain physically calm and then suddenly strike to disarm the attacker, which yields an element of catching them off guard. Even when he moves to disarm someone, his movements aren't all over the place. They are carefully and skillfully done to mitigate the threat with a path of least resistance. You can see a video clip from TCOT Garrulous Gambler that shows evidence of how Paul approaches doors and disarms someone who pulls a gun. A key thing to note from that clip is that Paul doesn't react when someone presents a threat to him.* In this example, someone draws a gun and points it at Paul, and he doesn't even flinch. He just gives the guy a once over with his eyes. But the second he turns his gun on Perry, Paul moves to disarm the attacker. And while that disarming takes movement, they're precise/exact while also emanating a sense of Paul taking calm, immediate control of the situation. *It is worthy to note that a very obvious and repeated trait for Paul Drake is that he remains entirely unfazed when people try to threaten him. You can see that example with the YouTube clip above, but you can also see visuals here and here. I think it's stemming from a few things. First and foremost, the skill Paul displays in the series with disarming others is a skill set that suggests Paul has a level of combat/disarming training. He knows his body. He knows his strengths (and weaknesses) and how to use them to his advantage in a physical altercation. He knows how to spot for the vulnerable points in an attacker. I headcanon that Paul learns these skills through working in intelligence with the OSS and the Navy as a frogman in WWII (see here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here). I also have an entire story that focuses on Paul's retelling of his experiences as a frogman (and how those experiences tie into his becoming a private detective and starting the Paul Drake Detective Agency) in my fic, Gone Fishing. In that fic, we learn that it is heavily enforced in Paul's training and experience as a frogman to "shut his body down" and remain calm in order to survive. This stems predominantly from training with pearl divers to drop their heart rate and blood pressure to stay underwater for up to seven minutes without oxygen. Paul's choice as a frogman in many recon missions was this: stay underwater where it was a bit safer (but had no oxygen), or surface to mortar and gun fire. He had to choose going underwater, and that meant slowing his body down to survive without oxygen for extended periods of time. Second, I do think that Paul does put himself last when it comes to thinking about protecting people. It helps that he knows how to disarm people, but I don't think Paul ranks preserving himself in the same category that he ranks protecting others. He places protecting others far above himself. And it doesn't have to be people he knows. He will go out of his way to protect strangers. The immediate example that comes to my mind is when Sally Fenner is struggling out at sea while a dog is swimming after her to attack. Paul immediately sees her in distress and dives right in to help her without a second thought. You can read more about how Paul protects others here.

the way he searches for things in tense situations During one occasion when Paul and Della were undercover, Della lures a police officer away to keep him busy while Paul searches a typewriter to check for evidence. Paul goes from idly chatting with the police officer while casually smoking a cigarette to quickly and calmly opening up the typewriter case and checking all the nooks and crannies. But he does it in a way that is extremely collected-- really the only movement comes from his hands while his shoulders and torso remain still. And it keeps his movements reined in and quiet/unobtrusive so as not to garner attention. When he's done searching, he falls back into a casual stance and starts smoking again without so much as breathing heavy from the quick high stakes search. And what he's doing is creating an image that he never was looking around at all.

the way he approaches doors If he knows someone is hiding behind a door, he will approach the door quietly, stand to the side, and then quickly and abruptly open the door to eliminate the attacker’s element of surprise (see here). Alternatively, if he doesn't know whether someone is hiding behind the door, he will pause on the other side of the door, using it as a cover as he quietly peers through the cracks on both sides before entering (see here).

#&. paul headcanons #paul drake #perry mason

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isfjmel-phleg · 1 year

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Selections from the Correspondence of the Lockridge Family, II/XVII

Letter from Emenor Lockridge to her brother Tamett.

Untertan, Norriber

24 February 1908

Dear Tam,

how are you? I am well. I do wish you would write more interesting letters. Father read the last aloud at the table and I think Zella must have fallen asleep right into her boiled potatoes. All right, perhaps she didn’t, but we all felt like it. Is it really so dull living at the palace? Your letters are nothing like the stories you tell when you get home. Has His Royal Highness been horrid again? Are the princesses around much? How are your music lessons? Tell me!!!

See, I will show you how it is done. I am going to start new violin lessons tomorrow (!!!) with Mr. Karrel Winther.[13] Mother met him at the concert the Vosses[14] gave after Christmas and made sure to mention me to him, several times, so he got interested and wanted to hear me play. He visited last month, and Mother made me get dressed up and loaned me her pearl brooch[15] and did my hair so that it looked almost as if it were up.[16] (I know you don’t care, but I did, and you have no idea how excited I was.) I wasn’t a bit nervous about playing for him until he arrived and we were introduced. He is perfectly ordinary-looking, nothing like a great musician at all. No wild hair or bizarre clothes. He didn’t even wear a cravat instead of a tie. I had been expecting more of an eccentric, like Boschbrandt,[17] so the thought of having to play for someone who looked more like a business acquaintance of Father’s somehow brought about a whole month’s worth of nerves I hadn’t had before, all at once.

(“Oh, how dreadful that must have been for you, Emenor! However did you get through it?” That’s you, writing your interesting letter back to me.)

My hands were shaking so I thought I wouldn’t be able to keep the bow steady, but I closed my eyes, which helped a little, and played Boschbrandt’s “Melancholisches Konzert,”[18] which sounded nothing like how I felt. Then I played Metzel’s “Musik für eine Sommernacht”[19] (the one you love so much),[20] Becke’s “Hymne der Müden,”[21] and to finish off, Severin’s “Marsch der Söhne Norribers,”[22] which is always great fun. I saw Mother and Father looking at each other when I started to play that, and they might have been signaling me to stop, but I happened to be too absorbed in the music to quit, and Mr. Winther got to hear the whole thing.

(“How could you be so daring, Emenor? Even I would never dare play that in the hearing of anyone Liennese! Did it cause a terrific scandal?”)

Most people don’t express scandal by applauding, so I suppose he didn’t mind. Perhaps he didn’t recognize it. But he did agree to take me on!!! His rates made Father go very bristly-looking,[23] but with your salary arriving soon, he and Mother think they can manage it. Even if they weren’t able, I was prepared to use some of the worldly goods (presently the number of both our ages combined thanks to a shrewd business arrangement)[24] to supply it. I need these lessons. Mr. Winther has connections to the Conservatory of Königsstadt ,[25] and perhaps he can convince Father and Mother when I can’t.

But you are much of the reason this has worked out, so thank you! I miss you, but just think how much more we’ll get to see each other once I get into the Conservatory.

Your sister

Emenor

P.S.: Your scarf is at least two feet longer.[26] By the time I get it to you, it will be so long that it’ll reach from here to Königsstadt so we can pull you home whenever we miss you.

P.P.S.: (“Thank you so much, Emenor! You’re my favorite sister!”)

[13] Mr. Karrel Winther: Karrel Winther was a virtuoso violinist who had toured with the Royal Symphonic Orchestra of Lienne from 1892 to 1907 before returning to his native Norriber to teach. He was in high demand among upper-class Norriberrian circles, and for a time taking lessons from him became a status symbol. Eventually he lost patience with teaching pupils who had no serious interest in perfecting violin technique and required auditions before taking on new pupils. In 1908, he had seven other pupils besides Emenor Lockridge. These students attended lessons in pairs in his home five times a week. Emenor studied in the mornings with Andar Vind, who would later become well-known as the composer of several popular musicals.

[14] the Vosses: Olmund and Kreszentia Vosse lived a mile away from the Lockridges. Olmund Vosse had inherited a fortune in the fish business, and he and his wife were among the more prominent citizens of the area.

[15] her pearl brooch: The pearl brooch was listed among the jewels and other valuables Elina Lockridge brought with her upon her marriage. It is among the few of these jewels not to disappear from the family inventory over the years and may be seen in many photographs of Elina, including her wedding portrait.

[16] my hair […] almost as if it were up: A photograph from the Lockridge family albums, taken by Lovisa, depicts Emenor on the main staircase in the ensemble and hairstyle described here. At age fourteen, Emenor was still too young to pin up her hair. Her letters and photographs indicate that she officially did so about two years later.

[17] Boschbrandt: Lukaz Boschbrandt was among the most famous of Lienne’s distinguished composers. His legendary symphonies, known as the “Divine Twenty-Three,” are a staple of Liennese concerts, and many of his melodies have been immortalized as hymns, popular songs, and dance tunes. He was also known for his peculiar habits and appearance, including disheveled hair and rough treatment of pianos.

[18] “Melancholisches Konzert”: Boschbrandt’s “Melancholisches Konzert” (Melancholy Concerto) is a common piece for intermediate violinists to learn. It wavers between major and minor keys, with a notable tremulous quality.

[19] Metzel’s “Musik für eine Sommernacht”: Walder Metzel rose to prominence around the same time as Boschbrandt, and to this day, they remain rivals in fame and skill. Metzel completed a record-breaking 1,000 compositions (not including seventeen incomplete pieces) before his mysterious disappearance at age thirty-one. “Musik für eine Sommernacht” (Music for a Summer Night) is typical of his work in its bold, showy, virtuosic style.

[20] the one you love so much: Other family letters indicate that Emenor practiced this piece for so long that the family became especially annoyed with it, particularly because, like many of Metzel’s pieces, it is an earworm.

[21] Becke’s “Hymne der Müden”: Seppen Becke, music master of Königsstadt’s royal cathedral, is remembered most for his contributions to church music. “Hymne der Müden” (Hymn of the Weary), a favorite of organists, is perhaps his most recognizable piece.

[22] Severin’s “Marsch der Söhne Norribers”: Jone Severin composed numerous Norriberrian patriotic pieces, including “Marsch der Söhne Norribers” (March of the Sons of Norriber), written around the two hundredth anniversary of the conquest of Norriber. Severin’s works were outlawed as seditious in Lienne and its possessions and were never heard at any public musical performance, although they continued to be played in private.

[23] His rates made Father go very bristly-looking: Karrel Winther charged ten myunzen ($530) for a month’s worth of lessons.

[24] the worldly goods ([…] thanks to a shrewd business arrangement): “Worldly goods” was Emenor’s code for her personal savings, intended to eventually fund her education at the Conservatory of Königsstadt and kept secret from her parents for fear of unauthorized “loans.” Emenor had at this point amassed an impressive sixteen myunzen ($848). It is unclear what this “shrewd business arrangement” was; no further hints exist among the family papers.

[25] Mr. Winther has connections to the Conservatory of Königsstadt: Karrel Winther was educated at the Conservatory, as were most of Lienne’s distinguished musicians of the day.

[26] Your scarf is at least two feet longer: Emenor was a prolific knitter, and many of her pieces are still in existence. A scarf known to be her work, which could possibly be the one to which she refers here, measures eight feet and seven inches in length.

#The Blackberry Bushes #The Blackberry Bushes short stories #Selections from the Correspondence of the Lockridge Family #my writing #Emenor Lockridge #Tamett Lockridge #Lovisa Lockridge #Cille Lockridge #Zella Lockridge #Elina Lockridge #Edvin Lockridge

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