#rv parts shop

[familyvideostevie]

it's your turn for choosing

this was born out of a prompt request from my dear, dear, @softlyspector. this is for you, becca!

getting asked out via a smudgy scribble on a coffee cup | valentine's day prompts

joel miller x reader

summary/warnings: joel stops by your coffee shack every day. it's not your fault you're a little in love with him because of it. | modern au, fluff, flirting, jesse and cat and ellie cameos, game!joel in my head. i have not been a barista so sorry to all baristas if this reads wildly off-base. | 5.6k

a/n: it's giving rom-com! happy valentine's day. a bit different from my usual fare but hopefully it makes your heart warm. love u. thank u always to @macfrog and @bageldaddy for your eyes.

___

7:32 am. It’s helpful in this line of work to know exactly when you’re fucked. 

The espresso machine has been on the fritz all week and despite how much you want your current method of fixing it to work – banging a fist on the top until it stops wheezing – all signs point to today being a very bad day indeed. 

You’ve only been open for two hours. 

Here for three, awake for four. God, you’re tired.

Anyway – you’re fucked. And there’s nothing you can do about it. 

You call the time of death on the machine and search for something you can write on.

The Zone – a stupid name, but you can’t be bothered to change the sign that came with the place – is a coffee shop that sits between towns. 

Your coffee shop. 

It's more shack than shop, not really a zone of anything, just an order window and a five-drink menu. It's the kind of place that appears like a mirage for tourists right before they get on the highway at an ungodly hour and serves as a quick stop for everyone else. You open earlier than any other place around to get the truckers and the farmers and close when you stop being able to keep your eyes open.

The faded brown clapboard building is no bigger than an RV. The paint is chipped and the roof is a too-bright shade of green and you serve your drinks and the occasional sweet treat when you can get a good deal off of the baker two towns over through a window. It’s not a fancy chain, it’s not a drive-thru. You’ve got a bathroom and a few rickety cafe tables and chairs and no fucking common sense since you like it. 

You even love it, some days.

And the craziest part is that it works. Even on mornings like this one, when your espresso machine breaks during the lull between rushes and your part-time help calls in sick and you’ve spilled coffee all over your apron twice – it works. 

You tear off the lip of a cardboard box and write in big block letters: NO ESPRESSO TODAY. Maybe Tess, the baker, knows someone who can fix it. She knows everyone.

“Fuck you, you piece of junk,” you say. You give the machine another smack for good measure. 

Someone clears their throat and you whirl around, makeshift sign in hand. 

You’ve been doing this long enough that a handsome customer doesn’t phase you, but the man standing at your order window makes your stomach swoop for just a second.

“Morning,” you say, summoning your smile. “Hold on a sec, let me just –”

You lean out the window and wedge the piece of cardboard against the napkin holder on the ledge.

The man’s gaze drops to read. You take the opportunity to look at him. 

He’s tall and broad – if you had to guess, you’d say he works on one of the farms around here. He’s tan, dark hair threaded through with grey. His arms are crossed and you wish he wasn’t wearing a jacket so you could see his forearms. His denim shirt is undone at the top and you fixate on the chorded column of his throat, on the teasing glimpse of chest hair underneath.

The guy looks tired. 

Bone-tired, the kind of exhaustion you see when you look in the mirror. It comes from hundreds of early mornings and late nights, from hours on your feet and plenty of worry. He’s got lines at the corners of his eyes and a few around his mouth and you find yourself hoping they’re from laughter. 

“No espresso,” he reads, slow and unhurried. His drawl fits in with most of the folks around here, but you’re sure you haven’t seen him before. You’d remember. 

“Hope that doesn't scare you off,” you say. “Still got everything else.”

“Everything else being…” He glances at the chalkboard that serves as your menu.

DRIP COFFEE. LATTE. CAPPUCCINO. TEA. HOT CHOCOLATE. All written in your blocky hand in white paint. 

“Three options.”

Trial and error have taught you that simple works best. You’ll make anything people ask for, so long as you know how and have the supplies, and if they’re nice about it you won’t charge too much extra.

“Can I get you one of those three options?”

You’re not trying to rush him, but the next wave of people is bound to show up any minute.

“Black coffee will do,” he says. His mouth tugs up at the corner into a smirk that makes your face feel hot. “If you have that.”

“Thank you for taking pity on me,” you say, going for teasing and missing the mark by a mile. You just sound tired and genuine. “You just made my morning.”

He looks amused and you turn from him, unable to hide your grin. You pour a steaming cup and snap the lid on.

“Pretty shit morning if this is makin’ it,” he drawls.

You hand him the cup and your fingers brush. 

“You have no idea.”

He eyes the sign again and then your stained apron. “I got some notion.” He tugs his wallet from his back pocket and pulls out a $5 bill. “Keep the change,” he says.

You want to refuse, to thank him, but a few more cars pull up and Mr. Black Coffee just raises his cup to you and heads back to his truck.

Well, shit. You hope he comes back. A tipper like that, and hot? You sure wouldn’t mind if he became a regular customer. __

You call Tess that afternoon and she does know a guy, so the espresso machine gets fixed and things go back to normal. Your part-time help returns in the morning and nothing else breaks. 

Today is uncharacteristically warm for the season. The inside of The Zone is almost stifling, always at least 15 degrees warmer than outside, and you keep wiping your sweaty hands on your apron as you make espresso after espresso for the lunch crowd.

Cat, a spunky girl who likes to practice her latte art when it’s slow, takes orders at the register. You keep half of your attention on her and half on the four drinks you’re working on. 

“Black coffee, please,” someone says to her. Someone whose voice you recognize. 

“Can I get a name for that?” Cat asks. It’s busy enough that calling names is easier than calling orders, no matter how small your menu is.

“Joel,” he says. You let the milk steam on its own and pour the black coffee before Cat can do it.

“I’ve got it,” you tell her. “Can you finish up those drinks?”

She shrugs and you swap places. You know you’re sweaty and coffee-stained but you smile at him and hand over his coffee.

“Hot coffee on a day like this?” you tease. He – Joel – is sweaty, too. The collar of his work shirt is dark with sweat and his hair is a mess. He must be here on his lunch break. He takes the cup from you and slurps a long sip as a reply to your question. 

You laugh. Joel looks pleased. 

“Operatin’ a full menu, I see,” he says, pulling out another $5. “Glad you got it fixed.”

“It’s still a piece of junk,” you shrug. “Just don’t tell anyone I said that.”

He waves off your offer of change and raises his cup at you, taking a few steps backward towards his truck.

“Thank you,” he says. He eyes the tag on your chest and tacks your name on at the end. It sounds good from his mouth.

“Bye, Joel,” you say. His lips twitch but you barely have time to think about it before you have to take the next few orders. 

The line dies down and you step away from the register to help Cat with some cappuccinos – your least favorite drink by far due to all the damn foam they require – and she eyes you.

“Dude,” Cat says. “What the hell was that?”

If it wasn’t already a billion degrees in here you know your face would feel hot. 

“What the hell was what?”

She can’t reply for a few seconds while you grind beans for some espresso.

“I didn’t even know you knew how to flirt,” she muses, tapping a frother full of milk a few times. “That was pretty bad flirting if you ask me –”

You turn the grinder on again to drown her out.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you yell. She rolls her eyes at you until you turn off the machine.

You tamp down the grounds and slot them into the machine.

“I mean, not my type at all, for like, so many reasons,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “Way too old for me, for one. Man, for another. But I see the appeal, I guess. Seems like he likes you. And was that a five-dollar bill? Black coffee is two bucks, last time I checked –”

“Can we get back to steaming milk, please?” you snap, more embarrassed than mad. “I am not taking flirting advice from a teenager.”

“I’m twenty!” she sputters. “Wait, so you admit that you like him?”

“Milk.”

Cat is right, though, and you know it. You just don’t see any harm in having a crush on some guy who comes to your coffee shop. Running this place means you see hundreds of people every day. You know their names, you ask them about their kids and their pets and their jobs, and you smile at them even on your bad days. It’s just part of the job. The daily interactions keep you afloat, make you feel more solid in your own life. People see you, they recognize you, they know you – even if it’s just because you make them coffee. 

Maybe Joel will keep coming back. Maybe he’ll become one of the regulars you know things about.

And if you have a crush on him? 

No harm done. He’s nice to look at.

And he tips well.

__

Joel stops by again. 

And again. 

And again.

He comes in every morning – sometimes at lunch – and orders the same thing. You learn the rumble of his truck by ear alone, the crunch of his boots on the gravel. Sometimes people in line say hi to him and a smile works its way onto your face on instinct when his voice reaches your ear. It’s never slow enough to have a proper conversation but he smiles at you, tells you he likes the flowers, your new apron. 

All of it is flirting but maybe not flirting. 

Maybe he’s just being polite.

Also, he keeps overpaying. 

One day, almost a month since you first saw him, he doesn’t come in the morning.  When you don’t see him in line at lunch, either, you’re a little disappointed. The weather is perfect – not too hot, not too cold, the sun shining – and you want to see him in the sunlight.

The day crowd is long gone and you’re only an hour or two from closing when his truck pulls up.

“I was getting worried,” you call as he walks over. Usually, he’s got some kind of dust or paint or something on them – Joel is a contractor, you’ve learned through your brief encounters, not a farmer – but today his clothes are clean and un-ripped. 

“I’m honored,” he says. 

You have his cup ready by the time he reaches the window. 

“I’m just surprised you can get through the day without a cup of coffee.”

He snorts and hands you his cash. 

“I can’t,” he says. “Had shitty home brew this morning.”

He takes a sip of your coffee and sighs. Your heart picks up and you don’t hide your grin.

“What’s with the schedule change?” you ask. 

He smirks. “Miss me?” 

You scoff and cross your arms. Heat rises in your chest and you feel almost giddy. 

“Just curious,” you say. “Don’t let it go to your head, but you’re my favorite customer.”

Joel laughs and scratches the back of his neck. 

“Reckon that’s the tip.”

“Actually, ordering a cup of black coffee is the way to any barista’s heart.”

Joel’s eyebrows climb up his forehead. 

“Ah,” he says. He takes another sip, his eyes dancing with mirth. “‘Course.”

“Nah,” you say with a teasing smile. “I’d never be so shallow.”

There’s no line behind him but you expect him to go back to his truck, anyway. But here he is. Talking to you.

You grab a rag and wipe down the counter to keep your hands busy. 

“I’m, uh. Meetin’ one of my kids here,” Joel says. The sudden shyness that accompanies his admission is a surprise. 

Your eyes dart to his hand but you see no ring, nor the pale shadow of one. 

“Both of ‘em moved to the city recently. Ellie – she’s comin’ up for the night.”

“I’ll bet you miss them,” you offer. You’re not sure why he’d want to bring his daughter to your coffee shack, but you’re not complaining.

Joel smiles at you. It’s a sad smile but still a good one. The affection in his eyes is raw. 

“Sure do,” he says. He tucks one hand in his pocket and takes another sip of his coffee. “But it’s good for them. Sarah – she’s a little older – is in school and Ellie is workin’ on her music and whatever else she’s into these days.” The pride in his voice is clear. 

“Well, I’m honored you want to bring her here.” You gesture to your slightly sad sitting area and the empty lot behind him. 

Joel looks ready to argue with you when a faded, older version of his truck pulls up. Music leaks from the open windows and the driver bops her head to the beat a few times before shutting it off and hoping out, thumbs flying on the screen of her phone. 

“That’ll be her,” he says drily. “Hey, kiddo.”

Ellie looks up from her hands, tucks her phone in her back pocket, and grins at Joel.

She doesn’t look a thing like him, but the connection is obvious. She moves like him, her shoulders set like she’s ready for a challenge at any moment. Joel sets his coffee down at the window and meets her halfway for a hug.

You look away and busy yourself with restocking whatever you can get your hands on.

“Dude, you come here every day?” Ellie asks. “Joel, this is so far from –”

Joel talks over her.

“Drive go okay? Sarah said they’re doin’ shit on the 35 –”

Ellie huffs.

“Yeah, yeah, some traffic getting out of the city ‘cause of the fucking lane closure, but otherwise fine.”

“Good.”

You turn to face them, a genuine smile firmly in place. 

“Hi,” you say. Joel picks up his coffee again, which Ellie eyes with a scowl. You introduce yourself to her. “You’re Ellie, right? I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

Ellie frowns. Behind her, Joel’s mouth twitches but he says nothing. It’s a lie, obviously, but something tells you he doesn’t mind and she believes it.

“Really?” She throws him a glare and then rolls her eyes. “You gotta stop telling strangers about me, man.”

“Someone’s gotta warn ‘em,” he says. 

She laughs. “Hey, fuck you!”

“Only good stuff,” you say. You like her. “Joel says you’re working on your music?”

Ellie’s eyes light up. “Oh, yeah,” she says. “I’ve got an audition next week.” She turns to Joel. “I brought my guitar ‘cause I have a fuck ton of songs to play for you.”

He puts a hand on her shoulder and she settles a little.

“I bet they’re real good.”

Ellie flushes and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well. You have to hear them first.”

You feel a little off-balance again, like you’re on the fringes of something you shouldn’t be seeing. The love on Joel’s face is clear as day. 

“Do you want some coffee?” you ask her.

Joel winces. Ellie gags. 

“No offense,” she starts, eyes darting between you and Joel. “I know Joel is fifty percent coffee on a good day, but it’s not my thing.” She looks at the menu and narrows her eyes. “I had a mocha the other day and didn’t hate it. Do you make those?”

“Look at that,” Joel says. “You’re convertin’.”

“Am not,” Ellie says. “It’s got chocolate in it, dude. No shit, I like it.”

“Yeah, give me a few minutes,” you laugh. “I’ll put lots of chocolate in it.”

They sit at one of your tables and you hear their laughter in the background as you make her drink.

It’s strange to see Joel like this – to build up on the man you’ve imagined him to be in your mind. Father never occurred to you. It makes sense, though, like a missing piece of him slotted into place. But it also makes the crush feel a little more real. Now that he’s more than your favorite regular customer. Now that you know a piece of him, of who he really is. 

It makes you want to know more.

You finish her drink and call Ellie’s name. They both stand and Joel digs in his wallet again.

“Don’t you dare pay me, Joel,” you say. You direct your next words at Ellie. “Really. I’m just honored you stopped by.”

She eyes Joel and he eyes her right back with the same look. She must have learned it from him.

“Yeah,” she says. “Me too.” She grins at you with all of her teeth. “Joel loves this place. Talks about it all the time.”

She takes a sip of her mocha and her eyes go wide.

“Wait, this is fucking good. Man, I see why you drive –”

Joel clears his throat.

“We’re off,” he says. “Thank you, as always.” He sounds softer than usual as if being nice to his daughter is the best thing you could do for him.

You suppose it is.

“You’re welcome, as always.” 

Ellie knocks her shoulder with Joel’s as they head back to their trucks. She must be whispering something to him because he swats her away with a groan and she cackles. 

They both wave at you as they drive away. 

__

Joel keeps coming in the mornings, and your conversations return to their fleeting cadence. Even so, it’s hard to deny that your crush on him has kicked into high gear.

You try not to let your gaze linger on his lips, on his throat. On his hands when he takes the cup from you, how your skin brushes and it makes you warm all over. You think about how he laughed, how relaxed he was around Ellie. You want to know what he’s like outside of your small daily interaction. You want to know what he eats for dinner, how he spends his weekends, what he listens to on the radio.

You want him.

Business is busy, which helps. A kid from a few towns over – Jesse, he’s called – signs on to work part-time, mostly for the second half of the day. He’s been a barista before so the training is minimal, but it still changes the flow of things. He’s a charming guy and the regulars take to him easy enough.

It’s you who is distracted. 

One morning, Joel comes in as expected. Jesse is working, too, trying to clock some extra hours this week.

Joel is on the phone in line, his attention somewhere else. He’s frowning, a deep crease between his brows as he waits in line. All it would take to smooth it away is the press of your thumb. 

You try not to stare and probably fail, but manage to take and make the orders ahead of him without making any mistakes, though your whole body feels alight.

He hangs up right as he gets to the window and sighs, giving you a tired smile.

“Howdy,” he says. You set his coffee down in front of him and he pulls out a ten-dollar bill instead of a five.

“Joel –” you say, but he interrupts you.

“My brother called and said he needs breakfast,” Joel grumbles. “Y’got any of Tess’s bear claws?”

Right, they work together, you remember. He’s mentioned Tommy in passing. 

“I think so, just hold on a sec.”

“Take your time,” Joel says. It sounds like he means it, even though there’s a line behind him and he probably needs to get to work. 

You do find a few bear claws in the box Tess gave you early this morning when you stopped by the bakery.

“You’re in luck,” you say, putting it in a paper bag. “Well, Tommy is.”

“Savin’ my ass,” he tells you when you hand it to him. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

The word sends a jolt of lightning through your whole body. He doesn’t even seem to realize he’s said it but your world shifts slightly on its axis. Sweetheart.

He turns on his heel before you can give him change for his cash, his phone ringing.

“Jesus, Tommy, I said I’d –”

You let him fade into the distance and smile at your next customer.

“How can I help you?”

A few orders later you end up next to Jesse making some lattes.

“Was that Joel Miller?” Jesse asks. “Before. The guy with the black coffee and bear claw?”

You startle. “Um. It was. How do you –”

“I didn’t know he was a customer here,” Jesse says. “Does he come in a lot?”

You unpack a few more cinnamon buns that Tess gave you this morning. “Yeah, every day.”

“Damn,” he says. “He must really like your coffee.”

“Are you trying to say it’s bad coffee, Jesse?”

He huffs a laugh. “No, boss, ‘course not.” He grinds beans for a few seconds but continues once he’s done, steady hands tamping down the results. “I just know he lives like, a half-hour away. And that there are plenty of coffee shops there, too.”

You narrow your eyes. “How do you know him, Jesse?”

“His daughter, Ellie, is a friend of mine,” he shrugs. “Went over to their house plenty of times in high school.”

“Well. He’s a contractor, right? I bet he has a job out here.”

Jesse clips the espresso into the machine and starts on some milk. 

“I’m not saying he doesn’t,” he muses. “I am saying that it takes at least 30 minutes to get here from where he lives.”

It’s silly. You’re half-flattered, half-confused. Yeah, you like Joel, and yeah, you’re pretty sure you’ve been flirting every day for over a month. But you figure it’s convenient for him. Coffee and an ego boost all in one. 

But if he’s going out of his way to come to The Zone? Well, maybe it’s not just for the coffee.

“Your coffee is good,” Jesse stresses, seeing the gears in your mind turning. It looks like he’s trying to hide a grin. You need to stop hiring young people who have keen eyes and big mouths.

“I think the ice needs a refill,” you say, snapping back into focus. 

“He might be here for something else, too -”

“Go refill the ice.”

He throws up his hands with a smirk. “I’m going!”

__

7:24 am. You’re on your own again and you’re fucked. 

The espresso machine is working perfectly and the early rush has ended. The weather is beyond shitty. Rain falls in sheets and the sky is so dark it feels like the sun didn’t bother to rise. It pounds on the roof and blows in the window every time you open it. The awning does nothing to shield customers as they shout their orders over the wind at you. Your fingers are going numb and your front is damp enough to set your teeth chattering. 

Joel’s truck pulls up and – well. You’re fucked. And he’s why.

You’re fucked because you can’t stop thinking about him. You can’t stop thinking about what Jesse said. What Joel said. Sweetheart.

A harmless crush turned into something more intense, something heavy in your stomach. You want him earnestly, fully, with every piece of you. 

And you still barely know him. But you want to. 

Maybe it’s the weather, maybe it’s the fact that you’re damp and cold and frustrated with your own heart and brain. But you see his truck and you decide to do something about this stupid crush.

You write your phone number on a cup with steady hands and set it aside for Joel. You scrawl on it as neatly as you can: Want to get a drink somewhere else sometime? 

It’s a bit of a coward’s way out. You should just ask him, say how you feel to his face. He’d probably like that better, anyway. But, well, this just feels safer. He could ignore it, he could throw it out, he could see it and decide to never come back. 

Sweetheart.

Somehow you don’t think he’ll do any of those.

The rain lashes against the window so hard you don’t open it until you see the lonely figure approach. The morning rush has been a morning trickle, a few brave souls venturing out for something from you.

Joel, it seems, is one.

You open the window and are greeted with a spray of mist.

“Gimme a sec,” you tell him. It’s so windy he leans in close to hear you. He’s wearing a jacket that’s ill-suited for the rain, his hair plastered to his forehead. Your fingers twitch with the need to brush it back. 

You quickly fill the cup you’ve set aside and pass it to him with two hands so it doesn’t blow over.

“Brave of you,” you say. He’s in the rain and you’re both getting soaked but you want to talk to him desperately. It’s a buzzing need at the front of your brain. “Thought the weather would get you, too.”

“Told you,” he all but yells over the wind with a flash of white teeth. “Shitty coffee at home.”

“Drive safe, Joel,” you tell him. He nods at you and jogs back to the truck, cup in hand. You won’t be able to see if he reads it from here, but you hope so. All you have to do is wait.

And wait.

And wait.

The rain stops.

You’re still waiting, phone silent.

Sunshine peeks through the clouds with a slightly surreal post-storm glow. A few more folks have made their way to The Zone but today has been slow. The clock ticks slowly towards 3 pm and your phone does not ring.

“Don’t be stupid,” you mutter. “He’s working.” 

You step out of the shack and into the slightly humid air, the gravel under your feet shifting wetly. The tables you’d set out this morning are, mercifully, still there, though they’re spattered with rain. You might as well close up now.

You’re bent over the last of the chairs, wiping them down with an old rag. You’re focused, so much so that you don’t pay much attention to the hum of an engine and the crunch of tires behind you.

A door slams but you don’t turn around.

“Sorry,” you call over your shoulder. “We just closed.”

“Shame,” he says. 

You whip around and find Joel, hands in his pockets. He’s in a different shirt than this morning and his jeans don’t look soaked. You’re still damp, water stains on your pants and shirt.

“Oh,” you breathe. “Hi, Joel.”

He smirks. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you outside of that window,” he says, before jutting his chin towards the tables. “Can I help?”

You’re very aware of your whole body all at once. He’s looking at you, drinking you in like you’re his morning cup of coffee.

“Uh, sure,” you say. You want to ask why he’s here but the words won’t come. “They go in there, in the little closet on the right.” You point to the open door to the shack.

He dips his chin low just once and then crosses the distance between you in three big strides. He grabs the chair closest to you. The t-shirt he’s wearing shows his arms and you feel what he’s just said – it’s weird to be in the same space like this. You’re outside but he feels so big.

Joel’s arms flex and you swallow, following him with another chair. He stacks his in the right place and holds a hand out for yours.

“What did you write on it?” he asks, casually. 

The words don’t totally register. “What?”

He doesn’t answer. His arms are crossed, brow furrowed. Your mouth goes dry.

“On my cup. This mornin’.” He keeps his gaze on yours and for some reason, you can’t look away.

“Oh – you, you didn’t see?” 

He shakes his head. “Was rainin’, remember? Got smudged before I got in my truck.”

“Right.” 

You tear yourself away and leave him standing there. Maybe you should just lie.

But then you think about the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when you make him laugh, and how he asks you how you are and how he brought his daughter here and how he tips and how he drives all this way for your – for you.

Joel waits, his footsteps the only indication he’s followed you.

You turn around.

“I wrote my phone number,” you say. “And I asked you on a date.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up and you think he’s…blushing?

He rubs a hand over his beard and you hope he’s hiding a smile. Your heart is in your throat, beating so loud you worry that he can hear it. All of your bravado sinks into the damp ground at your feet. Maybe you’ve read this totally wrong. Maybe he’s just a nice guy, maybe your coffee is just really good and your employees are fucking with you. He’s here to let you down easy, to tell you he’s not even available, not interested, not –

“Alright,” Joel says. He walks towards you and tugs his phone from his back pocket. “I’ll take that number.”

Oh.

He hands it over and you type it in, heart jackhammering in your chest. But you watch his face, see the quirk of his mouth and his blush and it makes you brave.

“And the date?” you ask, giving it back. Your fingers brush and your heart keeps pounding but your nerves take a sharp turn away from doubt and towards excitement.

“Well, you gonna ask again?”

You both seem to have found your footing with whatever this is. The flirt in him is back full force, and he’s looking at you in that way of his. You want to know all of his expressions. There is so much to learn.

“Are you going to say yes?”

“S’why I came back,” he admits. “Figured you’d be closin’. Hoped you’d be free.”

“So you could read the cup?”

Joel takes the other two chairs and heads for the door again. You trail him. God, his arms are distracting. 

“Most of it,” he says. “Couldn’t make out the last few numbers, though.”

“Well, once we’re done here, I’m free. If you wanted to go on a date with me.”

Joel turns and you’re in the small space at the same time, your chests almost pressed together. You must smell like sweat and stale coffee but you watch as Joel inhales, eyes on yours.

“I do,” he says. 

It would be so easy to kiss him, a quick, chaste press of your lips to see what he tastes like.

His pupils dilate and you sway into him for a breath before you realize what you’re doing and step back outside.

You take a deep breath of fresh air. “Great.”

He rubs the back of his neck with one hand and you head for the tables. 

“Y’know,” he says. “Ellie’s been on my ass about this.”

You laugh, high and bright. “Has she?”

“That girl ain’t capable of missin’ an opportunity to stick her nose in,” he grumbles, but it’s affectionate. 

“Well, I think she’s smart,” you goad. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Reckon she is.”

Joel’s brows furrow and he takes a few quick steps into your space, so close the tips of your shoes almost touch.

“Oh,” you breathe. “Hi.”

“Hold still,” he says. He reaches for your face slowly, slow enough that you could pull away but you don’t. He brushes something from your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Grounds.” His voice is a little hoarse.

“Thanks,” you breathe. 

He smirks but the flush creeping up his neck tells you he’s not wholly unaffected. It makes you feel…it just makes you feel. 

Joel Miller likes you.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” you say.

His eyes widen slightly and he leans in just a little but you slide out of his space with a grin.

“The sooner we finish up the sooner I can buy you a drink.”

Joel laughs, loud and full. “Oh, how generous of you.”

“You’re very lucky,” you say.

“I agree,” he drawls. He taps your chin with one knuckle.

His eyes sparkle and he smiles, looking luminous in the post-storm sunshine. You see a flash of a future – watching him drink coffee in a kitchen instead of through the window of The Zone. Your hands meeting over a shared table, fingers tangling, that smile directed at you in the morning light. 

Giddiness rises in your throat and spills out of you in a delighted laugh of your own. Joel just grins.

“So,” he says. “Where’re you takin’ me?”

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff

[loveinhawkins]

ao3

Eddie falls asleep in the back of the RV. Steve watches it happen in stages, after the stop at The War Zone—driving a little further out for a food shop, away from prying eyes.

He announces that the coast is clear when the roads become reassuringly empty. For the first time in days, he relaxes into the rhythm of driving: he’s triple-checked that no-one’s tailing them, and if it weren’t for the hastily bought weapons, he could almost pretend that…

He glances at the rearview mirror, sensing movement. It’s Eddie, standing up from where he’d been huddled against the back of Steve’s seat. He looks like he’s relishing the freedom to stretch his legs—Steve thinks, with a pang, that he’s probably sick of hiding—and takes his time on his way to the back seat.

Keeps his balance for the most part, only stumbles once, briefly latches onto Robin’s shoulder with a sheepish smile, says something like, “Role reversal, Buckley,” and she laughs.

He settles with the kids in the back. Clearly tries to give them the most space, folding his legs awkwardly in the corner almost like he’s already back to hiding again, but they won’t let him; Dustin wiggles along to create more room, and Erica pins Eddie with a look—the most Steve can make out is, “You look like a…”, but whatever she says makes Eddie snort, then smile with obvious affection.

The next time Steve looks to find Eddie’s reflection, he’s relaxed into his seat, legs stretched out in front, the edge of one sneaker bouncing up and down absent-mindedly—but growing slower and slower.

He’s talking to Lucas, the speech drowned out by the RV engine; Steve can still see how it makes Lucas relax in turn, even giggle, which has been an all too rare occurrence lately. How Max, despite carrying the heaviness of the Walkman, looks on with a spark in her eyes.

If Steve had to guess, he’d say that Eddie doesn’t mean to fall asleep. Maybe it’s the motion of the RV or the angle of the sun through the windows. Maybe it’s just that he finally feels safe.

Either way, his blinks get longer and longer, and then he’s drifted off, out completely, and Steve watches with something close to pride as the kids all get off the bench in silent agreement—Max confidently lifting Eddie’s legs and swinging them up onto the cushions like it’s second nature. He barely stirs, head nodding a little until he’s lying down properly.

Steve splits the last of his cash with Nancy on the food. They make a trio with Robin for heading to the store, the kids on what they’ve dubbed ‘Eddie watch’ and what Steve has dubbed, “Yeah, I’ve left it running—that still means no driving unless, like—actually no, I’m not even gonna—yeah, Dustin, I’ll get you more Pringles, Jesus Christ.”

And because he’s weak, he still ends up caving to Max’s loophole that yes, if demodogs and/or bats and/or people that just look at them funny show up, she’s got permission to floor it; he’s not gonna tell her he’d scoped the place out well before he’d parked.

Ten minutes later, laden with bags, Nancy says, “We could use somewhere with more space. For…”

She indicates the supplies of a more grim variety than snacks.

Steve thinks about it, then exhales with a little laugh. “Yeah, I’ve got somewhere.”

Robin eyes him curiously. It’s like she’s heard through the laugh, can somehow feel the thing that wells up in the back of his throat—only for a second; he’s used to pushing it back.

She squeezes his shoulder. He pats the back of her hand before driving away. Sometimes words spill out between them, ever flowing. Sometimes they don’t need words at all.

There’s a strange kind of thrill in feeling the tires go right over the grass. Feels bigger than what it is—like something’s finally been unearthed.

They’re all quiet as the group starts to filter outside. Steve looks over his shoulder: Eddie is still fast asleep. His lips move every so often, drowsy half-formed words.

Steve wonders what he’s dreaming about. He hopes it’s something good.

He lets everyone go in front of him—Robin snatches a bag of food out of Dustin’s hands, whispering fondly, “That one’s mine, you animal.”

Nancy hesitates just outside, then turns back into the RV to sit on the step.

“It’s just…” She tilts her head to the side with meaning. “I don’t think he should wake up alone, you know?”

Steve nods. “Yeah, me too.”

And that’s how they end up sat together, half in the RV and half outside. Nancy dangles her feet above the grass—she could reach it, of course, but it seems deliberate, like she’s enjoying the breeze.

Or trying to, at any rate: there’s still a restlessness to her, an anxious pinch to her face, like she’s one step away from jumping to her feet and—

Steve squeezes her knee—hears the way she exhales, like she’s finally caught her breath.

“Food first,” Steve says gently.

She nods belatedly, like the words take a little while longer to reach her. “Food first.” She rustles through one of the bags, brings out something wrapped in foil. “Robin said this is for you…?”

Steve chuckles. It’s a sesame bagel: bacon, egg, and cheese.

He gives half to Nancy.

They eat in companionable silence—just listening to the breeze and the occasional shout of laughter: Robin’s formed a circle with everyone up ahead, a chaotic game of duck, duck, goose, which is a ridiculous choice because her run is ridiculous, and Steve feels his cheeks ache with a smile at the grass stains already on her shirt, as Dustin and Lucas pull her down in some kind of duck-goose uprising, and Max gets Erica up on her shoulders, joining the fray; and underneath it all, he can hear Eddie hum slightly in his sleep, but it’s not a noise of distress—like he knows subconsciously that he isn’t alone.

“Here,” Nancy says.

When Steve turns to her, she’s got a packet of chips open between them. Salt and vinegar.

He doesn’t mean to say it out loud, but—

“You remembered,” he says through a rush of affection; it hits him square in the chest.

Nancy smiles. “Can never forget you and Mike fighting for the last packet.”

Steve knocks their knees together. “Yeah, he fought dirty.”

They laugh together, hushed but heartfelt.

There’s a streak of ketchup across Nancy’s face that she hasn’t bothered wiping away. She looks years younger somehow—looks lighter, like the food in her stomach has settled something intangible.

Her smile turns even softer, thoughtful, and warmth settles behind Steve’s eyes.

I’m sorry, he thinks. I’m sorry I couldn’t be what…

You never deserved to hurt.

“Did you get changed in the dark?” Nancy says, eyes bright with mirth.

It’s so sudden that it startles Steve right out of his thoughts, a welling emotion halted.

“Excuse me, Nancy Wheeler?” he says with a faint grin.

“Steve Harrington,” Nancy returns teasingly. She ruffles a hand through the back of his hair with easy affection, “There. That’s more like it.”

“Am I presentable now?”

“Oh, you’ll do.”

She rests her chin in her hand, just considers him—but it’s a gentle kind of look. Almost like they’re back in English class, and he’s just answered a question without stumbling over his interpretation, and he glances across to her desk, finds her watching him with pride.

“You suited the denim,” she says sincerely. Mimes how he’d shrugged into Eddie’s vest.

Steve feels touched in a way that he can’t fully place, like she’s said something else. Maybe she has.

“Thanks,” he says.

They both look over to the field at a cry of victory. Dustin’s found the stash of 3 Musketeers, holding it aloft like he’s just won a science trophy.

“Hey,” Nancy calls, laughing, “at least one of those is mine!”

Steve can feel her shift, about to stand, and impulsively, he says, “Nance, wait.”

She’s stood already in the split second it took for him to speak, but she turns back.

Steve stands up. Hugs her.

He tries to put all he doesn’t know how to say into it; he does his best, pressing a chaste kiss to her temple. Thinks of how he swept her into an embrace next to the school lockers, her surprised shout of laughter, if you can be this for her, she’ll be happy, you’ll be…

And maybe she’s heard some of it, because her hold tightens around him, like she’s saying, you never deserved any of it, either.

She pulls back. Claps his shoulders to make him sit back down, and they both giggle slightly, both vulnerable. Nancy’s eyes are shining at the corners. But Steve knows they’re the good kind of tears.

He feels them, too.

Nancy nods, smiling wide, blinking in quick succession before the moment’s gone.

He nods back.

And then she’s running over to Dustin, and it almost looks like she’s flying, like she’s sixteen years old again, and nothing ever…

Steve has to close his eyes for just a second. Breathes through it.

Minutes pass before he catches a change in Eddie’s breathing—hears him shift and sigh as he stretches.

Steve tilts backwards, just enough to see Eddie slowly drifting awake on the bench.

“Hey,” Steve says as soft as he can, so Eddie can go back to sleep if he wants; so it can just be part of a dream.

For a moment, it looks like that’s exactly what Eddie will do. But then his eyes find Steve’s, and they light up in recognition.

And he smiles. Sits up.

“Shit, did I really…?” The rest of the question’s lost to a yawn, and he stretches again, rubs a hand across his face to wake himself up.

“Yup,” Steve says. There’s one last bag by his feet, which he picks up to put in Eddie’s view. “This has got your name on it, man.”

Eddie sits down next to him. Steve shifts closer as he hands the bag over, feels the gentle press of Eddie against his side, the warmth left over from sleep.

Eddie whistles at the assortment of food. “Thanks, Steve.”

“Yeah, no—like, thank Dustin, not me.”

Dustin had rattled off a list of Eddie’s favourites—“Actual food this time, Dustin, he’s not surviving on just cereal, it’s depressing,”—which Steve had written hastily on the back of his hand.

He knows that Eddie’s seen the evidence of the list on his skin, faded as it is from the dying pen he’d used, because he smiles when he says, “Mm-hmm, I will,” like they’re sharing a secret; and then he looks off into the distance, squinting against the sun with a hand over his eyes, barks a laugh. “Besides, he looks kinda busy, uh… I don’t actually know what he’s doing. Killing Buckley, maybe?”

Robin’s joking yell punctuates Eddie’s words; it looks like she’s somehow recruited Lucas over to her side, because Dustin’s trying to flatten the pair of them; Erica’s got Dustin’s thinking cap on backwards, while Max shouts, “That’s a foul!”; Nancy’s sat crosslegged, eating candy and throwing out words of amused encouragement.

Eddie chuckles so fondly. He eats some of his share, then sighs with contentment. He stands but doesn’t go far at all, drifts over to a patch of ground like he’s drawn to it. Sits down. Runs his hands through the blades of grass and flowers, even the weeds; it makes Steve smile.

He follows.

They sit close to each other almost like they’re still sharing the step, even though there’s more than enough room to…

Eddie keeps watching the roughhousing. His eyes crinkle at the corners. He looks… happy.

He sighs again, leaning back a little, “This is nice. Who’s idea was it to come here?”

“Nancy’s, really,” Steve says.

But he can tell that Eddie notices the evasion—there’s a barely perceptible twitch of his eyebrow as he listens. He’s getting almost scarily good at it, Steve thinks, but it’s not done in an intimidating way; it’s not like Eddie wants to catch him out in something. It’s more like he… just wants to know. Like he cares.

“But you knew a spot?” Eddie prompts.

“Yeah, I…”

Steve could still avoid it—could just say carelessly, ‘cause we drove past it, duh, and Eddie would let it drop, he knows he would. But…

“I came here when I was a kid. Like, years ago. It was summer, and I think the car broke down or something? So we had to wait for…” Steve shrugs, but it’s just movement for the sake of it, trying to conceal the way his throat’s tightening in slow increments. “It was… I liked it,” he adds. Nods towards the kids. “I thought they might like it, too.” He tries to laugh, “Guess that’s kinda stupid to—”

“I think it’s sweet,” Eddie interrupts firmly. “This place, it’s…” He smiles at Max’s squeal, Lucas lifting her up in a bridal carry. “It’s perfect, Steve.”

Steve tries to smile, because it is perfect, but that suddenly makes it hurt all the more. He’s gripped by a fierce, desperate urge to seize the weapons and burn them, to just let everyone fucking rest, to tell them they don’t have to do it anymore, they never have to—

“Steve,” Eddie says, soft, dismayed—sitting up and touching Steve’s hand where it rests in the grass, so delicately, so kind—

Steve swallows; he must not have pushed it all back in time. He doesn’t want to know what his face looks like, but he can guess, can feel the telltale burn in his eyes—and wavers on the brink. Almost falls. But he catches himself, only just, and when he’s forced to quickly swipe at his eyes with the back of his hand, he reasons that it’s okay. Only Eddie can see.

Still, he should—

“Sorry,” he waves a hand, tries to laugh at himself again, “just ignore me.”

When Eddie smiles, it looks as if he’s only doing it because he’s taking his lead from Steve. His eyes speak for him—like he’s thinking, you’re breaking my heart.

“Ignore you? Shit, man, that’s hard. Have you seen you?”

It’s said with a ridiculous amount of theatrics—so obviously done to lift Steve’s mood. But there’s a note of sincerity that Steve can hear above everything; Eddie isn’t hiding it.

Perhaps he doesn’t need to, either.

“I’m more than just a pretty face, Munson.”

He expects Eddie to laugh. And though he does, it’s quieter than he’d expected, and he says, “Oh, I know. Trust me.” He’s looking at the kids as he speaks. “They’ll be okay, you know.” He doesn’t say it like a platitude. He says it like a promise. “Wheeler, Buckley… me. We have them, too.”

And Steve doesn’t know how Eddie could ever accuse himself of cowardice. God, if you could only hear yourself, he thinks.

“I don’t want—I know. I know you do. I just—just wish—”

His voice fails him.

Eddie tilts his hand, palm up. Steve could act like he’d never seen it all. It’d be easy.

He takes Eddie’s hand. Breathes, and tries again.

“I just wish we didn’t have to—”

It’s as far as he can manage.

Eddie squeezes his hand. Murmurs, very gently, like a memory, “And so do all who live to see such times.”

Steve doesn’t need to ask. He can feel the weight of it through the words alone. Focuses on Eddie’s touch, the way his fingertips brush against Steve’s knuckles, over and over.

And then Steve lets go, but not before squeezing Eddie’s hand in return. Twice. He doesn’t know Morse code, but he hopes he’s understood.

He watches the kids play again. Glances over to the side when he feels another touch, Eddie’s shoulder briefly skimming his. This time he can tell it’s accidental; Eddie’s swaying a little where he sits.

“Shit, sorry. It’s the sun, it’s,” he yawns, “it’s making me…”

Steve’s reminded of the boathouse; of Eddie’s sunken face at Skull Rock.

“You’re just exhausted, Eddie,” he says.

He stands, briefly places his hands on Eddie’s forearms, tries to shield him from the worst of the vertigo. He feels Eddie jump beneath his touch, a forcible jolt back from the edge of sleep. Visceral.

Steve’s chest hurts.

“Wait there,” he says. “I’ll be right back. Hey, try to not fall asleep just yet, ‘kay?”

“M’not,” Eddie says, not very convincingly.

When Steve returns with a pillow from the RV, Eddie is lying in the grass, flat on his back. One hand floats in front of his face, fingers curling like he’s playing guitar chords—like he’s doing it to keep himself awake.

“Dude, that can’t be comfortable,” Steve says. He bends down, taps Eddie on the forehead, which makes Eddie blink slowly, looking at him upside down. “Can I…?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Eddie says softly. It sounds like I trust you.

Gently, Steve cups the back of Eddie’s head, moves it up ever so slightly and puts the pillow in between him and the ground. Eddie settles onto it with a sigh.

Steve moves away, sits back down; Eddie turns to lie on his side, facing him. His cheek presses into the pillow, one leg bending a little, like this is how he lies in bed; there’s a fragile vulnerability to the sight.

The sun draws attention to the grass in his hair. The slightest trace of freckles underneath his eyes; they’ll come out more in summer, Steve finds himself thinking. He wants to be there to see it.

It was summer when he first thought a boy was pretty. That day the car broke down, but his dad was laughing, making the most of it; he’d walked and walked to buy ice-cream and returned victorious to the field, where Steve was waiting with his mom.

They weren’t the only families there—the spot had been much busier years ago: people using it as a pit stop on road trips, Hawkins locals mixed in with folks from out of town, so it felt like the whole world was to be found here, stretching out before them in the grass.

Steve had seen the boy playing tag—it was over in barely a flash, but he still remembers how he held his breath when their eyes met, without understanding why.

He’s pretty, he’d thought, it was the only word he had for it—an instinct from his mom teaching him words, bouncing him on her hip, oh, Steve, look at the pretty flowers.

He’d known even then it was a thought he couldn’t share—like how a child comes to know that they’re not to touch a hot stove.

He’s pretty.

Steve could tell himself that he doesn’t know why he’s remembering it now. But it would be a lie.

Eddie’s tugging idly at the grass, but his hand keeps going slack, twitching with oncoming sleep.

“You know how t’whistle with ‘em?” he asks clumsily.

His eyes are closed. Steve stills his hand, slips a blade of grass out from his loose hold.

“No,” he says, drags it through his teeth like he’ll miraculously make it whistle just by doing that.

Nothing happens, of course; the grass tastes just a little sweet on his tongue. He takes it out from in between his lips and lets it go, to be lost on the wind.

When the taste dissipates, he misses it.

“Yeah, me neither,” Eddie says, amused. His voice is lilting with exhaustion. “My uncle tried to teach me once, but I couldn’t… maybe ‘cause… still had some of my baby teeth… maybe that makes it harder?”

“Maybe,” Steve agrees quietly. He picks some grass out of Eddie’s hair, as lightly as he can. “I’ll ask him for some tips.”

Eddie smiles at that. “He’ll like you,” he says.

He’s half-asleep, Steve reminds himself. He hardly knows what he’s saying.

But he can’t help feeling pleased at the thought.

“Oh, yeah? You think so?”

“Mm-hmm. He likes…” Eddie yawns. “Likes everyone I like. And I… I really like you.”

It’s said so easily. Like it’s simple.

Maybe it could be. Just this once.

Steve feels emotion creeping up his throat, resting heavy on his tongue. This time, he doesn’t push it back; he speaks through it.

“I really like you, too,” he whispers.

Eddie hums sweetly, like he’s heard even when almost all the way to dreaming. “Think there’s a trick to it,” he mumbles, and Steve realises he’s talking about whistling again, lost to a childhood memory.

Stay there, Eddie. Rest.

“A trick?” Steve says in hushed tones.

“Yeah, I… remember he’d… he’d say…”

Eddie falls asleep mid-sentence.

Steve watches him. Angles his shoulder to create shade, shielding him from the sun.

He looks over at the kids: they’re playing tag with Robin now, Nancy joining in—a little quieter, like maybe they’d seen…

If he unfocuses his eyes just slightly, he can almost see his dad coming over the hill with the tubs of ice-cream. His mom smiling, sunburn on her shoulder, and Steve hit with a wave of inexplicable sadness, like he already knew, she’ll never be this happy again.

Eddie sighs in his sleep.

Steve feels a subtle change in the sun on his skin, the afternoon dying.

Stay, he thinks. Mouths it with childish hope, stay, like he’s still the boy who fell asleep right here, in between his parents, wanting the day to stretch on and on—the one who couldn’t outrun the feeling, even then, that he was coming to the end of something.

#do you ever think about just how much Steve loves them all #gay steve harrington #implicit but it’s there #steve harrington fic #pre steddie #steddie fic #steve and nancy #steve and the party #eddie and the party #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #nancy wheeler #steve x eddie #steve and his parents

[moongumi]

⁀➷ ∵  ❝ nice warm bed you've got there, ghost¹ ❞

⟶ simon 'ghost' riley x reader

⟶ cw. sleepy!ghost, fem!reader, flirting, established flirtationship, kissing, lots of kissing, grinding, ghost calls you kid + more (nothing too sexy yet only a tiny bit of smut but more like descriptions nothing that isn't listed)

⟶ note. not edited, written out of pure thirst

drained and sore from the mission you had jumped in the shower quickly before anyone could take the chance. the other guys rested in the rv waiting for their turn. they pretty much start to stink up the entire place with the smell of masculine musk and spoiled mud.

right when you're done, vargas decides it was his turn before anyone else could utter a word. he nudges your shoulder in the small space as you tried to dry your wet hair with towel, its freakin' dark so you assume he was just being clumsy. he mutters a quick, "sorry", before slipping away in the tiny cubicle.

your arms raised in your tank top and shorts you rub the towel into your head as you walk towards the front of the rv.

soap clears his throat, sitting on the dining table set. across him is ghost, they take up the entire space with their large width so you'd have to get past them towers the bench-like couch to have a place to sit.

soap notices you right away and kicks his feet ahead. ghost snaps his head but notices soap's head nudging behind him. "do yourself a favour, try not to look."

ghost's eyes dart to the right behind his textured mask, seeing your shadow before yourself. "yea, i'm tryin', mate."

you make your way past a very stiff-necked ghost and soap who gives you a sheepish grin. you notice their files of documents and photographs littered all over the worktop. even after hours they can't seem to stop working. soap gives ghost a smack on the shoulder and leaves.

ghost relaxes slightly when his head down form notices you've left as there were no lingering shadows covering up the reflection of the moonlight from that side.

that is until he feels hands on his shoulder and a heavy weight pushes them downwards. "you still trying?" your soft voice pierces his ears and he jumps.

he rolls his eyes, throwing his head into his palm. "shut up kid."

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

"alright, pick bunks." soap sees you already on a top bunk over the top of a queen bed that sits at the end of the rv. "i see you've already chosen."

"yep." you pop your lips and continue to click on your nintendo switch, cooling off. completely ignoring the rest as they pick bunks.

soap and ghost end up under you whilst the others have opted to either stay awake, drive or sleep on those bench-couches that turned into beds.

you decide to sleep for a while. comfortably until.

ghost feels a weight on his bed, it definitely wasn't soap. his eyes open to see you climbing down off your bunk and dropping into his, your tank rolling up as you did. your entire weight drops on his bed and crinkle the duvet, his eyes half open looking at you. "what you doin'?"

"what do you think?"

ghost groans groggily, waving you off, "you can't do that. not right now."

"soaps not here." ghost looks to his side, you're right. "the others are out, we stopped at a station. they're getting food and water." your straddle the lower part of his leg slightly, dropping your weight slowly on him–he feels the heat off your bare legs on his sweats.

ghosts eyes barely open and he sits up to look at the window seeing the shop and station as you say. somehow he didn't even wake up whilst the others made their move. he rubs his eyes through his balaclava. you wondered if he even showered as the black paint kind of still lingered around his eyelids, the only part you really get to see of his face.

"you still wear your mask when you sleep, hm?"

ghost groans, pointing at you with a jut of his chin. "you do too."

you click your tongue pointing at yours, "mines different." you did wear a mask on duty like him just not as artistic. but you wear a medical mask otherwise, it was easier to breathe and covered you up, hiding your identity well enough.

ghost leans his weight on his hands. he sat up slightly. you make your way onto his lap, he didn't even resist only cocking his head at your every move. he sees the way you're looking at him. eyes half open, lashes heavy, maybe because you also just woke up but hell, you were giving him some sort of intentional look.

"let me kiss you," you whispered, words slathered with lust. it was one of the last things he expected, but who was he kidding the others are out and the tension between you two was strong enough at other times–alone, was different.

he shakes his head, trying to be the better person. "no, come on. they'll be back before you know it."

"they just left." you're fingers are tickling at the base of his neck, peeling his mask slightly. he only eyes you back, half-lidded too–his pretty eyes make the core of your ache warm up. "ghost, please."

your fingers are slip under his mask, feeling his warm skin, lifting it up more. it reaches his chin, and you feel the roughness of his recently shaven beard. he swallows hard, breathing heavily at your touch.

his head straightens and his fingers reach yours to stop you. "hey."

"what?" you groan, "don't pretend you don't want it."

he doesn't pretend. he can't. you're sat on his lap with your tiny shorts rolled up your ass, your shirt exposing your waist and everything. it's rare to see you so exposed, just your fucking arms and legs made him horny, fucks sake. he'd been so deprived.

his eyes flicker between your eyes and where your lips would be behind that mask. his fingers left yours alone and he reaches for the loops around your ears, his rough fingers yet soft touch pulls them off. even in the dark, it's hard to see your face, maybe that was a good thing, neither of you really knew what each other looked like. it seemed a lot more exciting this way.

you take that as a green light. dragging his mask over his nose and pressing your lips against his quickly, so he couldn't stop you anymore–he can't just draw it out longer, the chase. you angled your head, molding into his bottom lip. his lips part and he deepens the kiss, a low grovel ringing from his throat. his tongue slips past your swollen lips with ease, with no resistance. he explores it, pressing his tongue and curling it to the roof of your mouth, tasting all of you.

you moan, whimpering into his mouth. rolling your hips naturally into his lap that allows you to feel his growing bulge. he thrusts his hips as well. who knows the last time the man got action and fuck, he wanted it now.

his eyes are shut under his halfed-mask, you keep switching angles as if it could get you any closer to the extremely attractive older man. you felt like you saw something in the corner of your eyes for a split second, and when you open your eyes fully you can see the other men through the sheer curtained window returning with bags of snacks, drinks, and food and you pull away with a gasp. "fuck."

ghost returns to his senses and looks in that direction. "fuck." he watches as you jumbled as you jumped off him. only watching in amusement. "good night." pressing your bare feet against the covers by him and getting back into your bunk above him.

ghost's deep chuckle makes the pits of your belly warm, "good night, kid."

end note: i miss ghost daddy ok? im thirsting and FROTHING FOR THIS MAN. i really wanna write a full fic like oc and all but i literally dunno shit about military n america LOL. but i will be writing more, but THE MASK STAYS ON. hopefully no fanboys run into this n get all pissy &lt;3 idk how people feel about being called kid by a guy you're tryna fuck but : ) soz

#☾ ⟶ koemi drabbles #THE MASK STAYS ON #IM FROTHING AND THIRSTING #GIVE ME WATER #cod fanfic #ghost fanfic #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #cod x reader #ghost smut #fem!reader #simon ghost riley

[wonwoosthetic]

Hi! So I have a newer idea for Daryl that popped up in my mind while shopping today. It's 100% okay if you don't want to write this, though! It is kind of long so I completely understand if you don't feel like writing this 💜

Basically, Daryl meets reader, aka Shane's fiancé, at the quarry and could instantly notice how toxic Shane was to her. She wasn't allowed to really talk to any of the guys in the camp and was forced to do most of the laundry to keep her from interacting with the rest of the group. However, one day while Shane's off doing you-know-what with Lori, Dale sends reader to go hunt with Daryl with a compound bow that he'd found. To Daryl's surprise, she's amazing at hunting and they have a little convo about Shane. They then stumble across Shane and Lori going at it like rabbits but silently retreat, not making a scene. Back at the camp, when Shane returns, reader simply just places the ring back in his hand and tells him they're over. Being free to do what she wants, she starts getting closer with Daryl over the next month or so, and when they get to the CDC, her and Daryl have this cute moment with a few people watching them and then Glenn, in his drunken stupor, makes a comment about what a cute couple they are. Cue the sudden realizations from both sides that they like each other. Can end with a confession or not. <33

a/n – first of all, to everyone who reads this: you better check Krys out! I am absolutely IN LOVE with everything she writes (Daryl and Hazel is my favourite but literally everything is a masterpiece!) second: to get a request from one of my favourite authors on this app here is an ABSOLUTE HONOUR and I truly truly hope that I could somehow reach your expectations!!!! Thank you so much for sending me it, and I really hope you and everyone that reads this enjoys it ˙ᵕ˙ thank you for marking my start in writing for Daryl now too!😊

A little side note: surprise, I still can’t write short stuff, but bc tumblr is a bitch and is messing with long stuff I post, I decided to make 2 parts, so I can truly involve everything I planned, I hope that’s okay!!🤍🤍

masterlist

word count – 7.4k

pairing – daryl dixon x fem!reader, shane walsh x ex!fem!reader (rarely)

warnings – cursing, mentions of sex, infidelity, toxic man

Don‘t Talk To Strangers Or You Might Fall In Love – Pt. 1

Later in the evening, the women gathered down at the quarry once again. With each holding onto a basket of some sort, carrying the laundry of the rest of the camp residents, they had found their usual spot by the water. Their hands were already starting to get wrinkly by the amount of clothes they had to wash - it had only been a couple of days, and there was already a pile of it.

A wince from the oldest woman of the group made all three heads snap towards her, their eye following her carefully.

"Everything okay?" Jacqui asked, stopping mid-movement before she set down the soaked t-shirt she was holding.

Carol was quick to brush off her concerned tone, sending the woman a quick tight smile as she re-adjusted her position on the ground.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she cleared her throat. "Just... a stone."

The other women shared a quick knowing look. Yes, the surface they were sitting on was mostly stone, but not enough to get hurt or even wince the way Carol just did. She must've hit one of her bruises against the hard ground. One of the many that decorated her skin. While some of them she had clearly been able to hide underneath her clothing, the women couldn't help but notice the ones on her arms. And while some seem to fade, it didn't take much longer for new ones to appear just a day later.

"You know," Amy jumped into the conversation. "You... you don't have to share a tent with him." Everybody immediately knowing, who she meant. "You could stay in the RV, or-"

"I'm okay, Amy. Please." Carol's tone made the younger woman stop again, going right back to the task at hand. While you had hoped you'd go back to finish off your work in silence, Jaqui had other plans as she raised the volume of her voice to reach you, who was sitting a little further off.

"Well, speaking of shitty husbands." Getting a scoff out of the older woman. "Where's Shane, Y/N?" A chuckle erupted from Amy. 

"Huh?" Your head shot up at the mention of his name. You found three awaiting pairs of eyes fixed on you, sending an uncomfortable rush down your spine.

"Where's your husband?" Amy repeated the question, her voice holding a slightly more gentle tone.

"He's not my husband. Just... fiancé." You shrugged. "I don't know...," mumbling as you were almost too embarrassed to admit. "He said something about going hunting."

Jacqui let out an annoyed huff of air. "That was hours ago. It's getting dark soon, doesn't he think-"

"I trust him to know how to keep himself safe. He knows what he's doing," you told her mindlessly, pouring the now dirty water back into the river in front of you. 

You knew how most of the group felt about Shane. He had declared himself as the leader of your little group, thinking his status as a sheriff made him the right fit despite some of the eye-rolls and annoyed sighs it had gotten from the rest in return. It didn't seem to bother him, not even a little bit. You had tried to defend him, wanting to explain his plan of action and knowledge to the others, but he had shushed you down quickly. His own stance was enough for him to stand in front of the group of people, promising to lead them well and try to figure out how to move forward in the, what you'd now call, apocalypse.

While he was securing his place as the tough leader, commanding each person around and giving them a set role in the group, you had tried to find a sense of community. If you were to go and travel further with these people, might as well try to create some form of comradery. But that was brought to a halt before you could even truly start. By Shane.

'They're not your friends. They're just random people. We don't know them and we don't gotta know them.' He had told you. You had tried to start an argument, wanting to explain that while you didn't know most of them just yet, you might as well start now if you're going to spend more time in an enclosed area with them. 

'Let's keep an eye out for Lori and Carl. She just lost her husband, for God's sake.' He never really explained just how he knew that Rick was officially dead, but the two members of the Grimes family seemed to be his only concern. The fact that you had known Glenn for a while now and considered him a close friend, almost a younger brother, didn't even register with him. He was just 'another dirty man, just like the rest of them' to Shane. He had made his opinion of the members of your group very clear. They're strangers. If it wasn't about Lori and Carl, it wasn't important. Why you were the one washing their clothes though was still beyond you though.

Jacqui was just about to open her mouth again, not wanting to drop the topic of conversation just yet, but a loud voice from up the quarry got your attention.

"Ya just don't give a shit, ya old bastard!" Daryl's uncanny accent echoed through the open area.

While a deep sigh tumbled from Carol's lips, Amy tried to ignore the fight a few feet away from you and Jacqui shook her head.

"These Dixon brothers, I swear to God... I don't understand why we haven't made them leave yet."

"Daryl's a good hunter," Amy commented quietly with a slight shrug.

"Yeah, and selfish," the older woman spat back, "And Merle? He's nothing but dragging everyone here down."

You decided to leave the scene in silence, not wanting to add anything to the conversation. You believed that everyone had a good reason for acting and behaving the way they were. You'd like to think that your good nature was part of the reason why Shane fell in love with you. Your years of dealing with children coming from troubled families had taught you that there's mostly good in almost everyone, just that most hadn't had the chance to find that side of them yet. In some ways, the Dixon brothers' attitudes reminded you of them. 

Back in the camp, you brought the washing bowl back to where the rest of the clean laundry was already hanging to dry. Before you could go any further, hoping to find some alone time in your tent, Dale's voice made you stop.

"Y/N!"

You looked up at the top of his RV, where he had secured a chair, a small table and an umbrella to keep the sun from frying his skin.

"Hey, Dale," you smiled at the older man, who copied your facial expression. While some had come to find him to be a 'typical grumpy old man' - and by some you mean Shane - you and Dale had gotten closer over the short time you had spent in the group. He reminded you of your dad, who at that point in time was God knows where. You hoped he found a group similar to yours and was trying to find his place in the world you would now be living in.

"You know how to use a bow and arrow, right?" He asked you, remembering the story you had told him.

You nodded, shielding your eyes with one hand as the sun was starting to make them hurt. "My dad taught me a little, why?"

"Look what I found," he grinned before turning around to pick something up. He crouched down, now with a compound bow in his grip as he tried to get it down to you. With quick steps, you got closer, your eyes brightening up at the sight.

"Oh my god... Dale!" Your smile only widened once you got your hands on the bow. You let your hand glide over the metal, finding it to be heavier than expected. It was still in perfect condition, but you couldn't even finish admiring it before your eyes found another item being dropped down at you.

"Those were next to it," Dale added as he handed you a bag holding multiple arrows that were hopefully supposed to go with the bow. He watched your smile as you couldn't take your eyes off the archery tool. "You think you know how to handle that thing?"

"I mean... my dad taught me how to use a longbow, but... can't be that hard, right?"

The older man couldn't even answer you as a scoff erupted from behind you, followed by the familiar scruff voice of Darly.

"Ya think it's that easy." Stating it more than wondering. Knowing not to start a conversation with him unless truly needed, only able to imagine how Shane would react if he found you talking to him, you decided to ignore his comment, focusing back on Dale who seemed to have done the same.

"Where did you find it?" You asked him.

"Oh just... from a house a few minutes away. Thought you could use it."

"I don't know when yet, but... I'll try," you smiled at him.

"How about you go and try it out now?" He suddenly asked you.

His question made your head shoot back up to look at him in wonder. "Now? What do you mean?"

He sighed. "It's gonna get dark soon and Shane and Lori aren't back yet, we should try-"

"Lori?" Her name fell from your lips as you glanced around the area, only finding the youngest Grimes sitting in the grass, entertaining himself with some sticks and stones. "Where is she?"

Dale shrugged. "Said something about finding berries and whatnot-" Another scoff from behind you made him stop to shoot Daryl an annoyed glance. "I think we should try to at least get something to eat for the kids. And if they're not back anytime soon, they won't have dinner."

"What? My huntin' skills ain't enough for you, old man?" The younger Dixon brother shot up from his crouched position on the floor, nudging his head up at Dale, who was clearly annoyed by his attitude.

"A squirrel isn't gonna feed an entire group. Take Y/N with you and try finding something."

"Dale-"

"Shane's not here, honey," he immediately stopped you, apparently already knowing what your argument would be. "I think he'll be okay, knowing you were out finding something to eat for the kids."

"That asshole would rather watch 'em kids die than send her huntin' with any of us!" Daryl spat back, ignoring you standing right next to him.

He turned your head towards him. "Don't talk about him like that." Speaking to him in a much softer tone than he just did, only getting a shake of his head and an annoyed mumble in return before he turned his back towards you, making his way towards the woods. A quick glance back up at Dale made him nudge his head towards the direction the archer had just disappeared into. You could either get sulky and refuse to go with the man who had clearly other interests than to go hunting with you or you could be the bigger person and focus on bringing something into the community. Even if that meant rebelling against your partner's order to stay at the camp and focusing on the laundry in the quarry. You decided on the latter, knowing that he'd find something to get annoyed at one way or another.

With a sigh, you nodded to Dale's proposal and swung the bag of arrows over your shoulder. Turning around to follow the way Daryl had just strutted, your eyes found his silhouette already between the trees. It was uncanny. Anyone could tell it was him. His zero-fucks attitude and his arms just casually hanging by his side- The pop of his hips with each step he took just underlined the sass that man possessed almost making you chuckle.

Unlike a lot of the other members of the group, you didn't necessarily dislike him. His brother was a totally different subject. They were difficult to deal with and most definitely not the teamwork type of personalities - not directly at least. You had noticed the multiple times Daryl would vanish from sight, only to come back a few hours later with a few dead squirrely thrown over his shoulder, that he would then give to the group after skinning them. It was absolutely disgusting, to say the least, but he did his part to be a valuable part of the community, even if he might had been a unique character and more challenging to deal with. 

What Merle's issue was, you had yet to discover, but the man didn't intrigue you enough to bore into his background story.

A good few minutes in, you still hadn't caught up with the archer, his steps being way bigger and faster than yours. Panting, you hoped he would hear you.

"Can you slow down for a second? Please."

Not following your words, Daryl kept up his pace, only turning his head slightly. "Don't need yer husband to see us together out'ere or we'll be the ones rotatin' over the fire instead of a dear."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his comment, even scoffing loudly at what you had just heard, and mumbling too quietly for him to hear.

Your reaction made him suddenly stop in his tracks and turn his entire body towards you. "What? Ya think I'm kiddin'? I seen the way he talks to ya and everyone else in that godforsaken camp. Treats everyone like shit if it ain' abou' that woman or the kid."

Your glare didn't even intimidate him a bit. Neither did he budge when you took a daring step closer to him.

"How about you focus on yourself and stay out of other people's business? He's trying to be a leader, alright?"

"More like tryna be a dictator. Mussolini woulda loved him." Without another word, he turned around to continue his way further into the woods, leaving you in slight surprise rooted into the ground. A shake of your head and a deep breath brought you back into the present, making you follow him again. You tried to keep the distance between big enough to keep him away from you, let close enough to still have him in view - you sure as hell weren't going to get lost in the middle of the woods.

Looking down to be careful about each step you took, you held onto the strap across your chest. With your view on the ground, you didn't notice Daryl having stopped again, making you suddenly bump into him.

"Oh- sorry." You took a quick jump back.

He had lifted up his arm to the side, keeping you from going any further. Only after looking up, you could follow his gaze, finding what had gotten the archer so enthralled. Between the bushes surrounding you ahead on a tree, there were two chipmunks perked up on a branch. They hadn't noticed you yet and if it hadn't been for Daryl's eagle eye, you had to admit, you would've overlooked them as well.

Suddenly, overly confident, you realised this was the moment you could prove your skill. A skill you hadn't trained for in a few months, but you had long enough training before that, you believed. Swiftly, you grabbed a bow from the bag on your back and took a slow step back, careful not to make any loud noise to disrupt the two animals. Daryl had his crossbow already sitting on his shoulder, his eye trained on the chipmunks as he kept totally still.

"On three," you whispered as you drew the bow in your grip. You couldn't see the archer's slight confusion as he didn't budge, only knowing he had heard you when he suddenly started counting down. As soon as the number 'three' left his lips, you let your arrow shoot through the sky, him going at the exact same time, pressing the trigger on his crossbow. The two bows hit the chipmunks perfectly in sync, making them fall from the branch and onto the floor.

"Yes!" You whispered to yourself in a cheer, brushing past Daryl with a wide smile on your face as you made your way over to where your prey was waiting for you.

The man continued to stand still, only his eyes following your movements as his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. Only a few seconds later, he found you standing up straight again, proudly holding up one of the chipmunks. He followed your steps, coming to a stop as he looked down at the other animal still on the floor.

"Was that beginner's luck or...?" He asked you as he gathered it off the ground and took out his arrow before taking its companion out of your hands to put both of them into the small bag he had secured by his hips. Your eyes drifted to his arms. Glistening in the sun behind you. He had been collecting dirt all over his body, but the sweat now on his biceps was making it look only half as bad.

You shrugged, not even trying to hide the small smile still on your lips. "Maybe a little since I haven't used one of these in a while," holding up the compound bow.

"Who taught ya?" In surprise, you glanced at him, not expecting to continue the conversation as you went back to resume your hunting journey through the woods.

"My dad."

You noticed his steps suddenly slowing down again, making you turn towards him in wonder. A finger brought up to his lips told you everything you needed to know. Daryl started looking around carefully, while you just turned in a circle, wondering what he had heard. And then you saw it. A 'geek', as Glenn had labelled them, was making its way towards you.

"How on earth did you hear that?" You whispered at him, but the archer just propped his crossbow up again, ready to take out the thing coming dangerously close towards you. The noises coming from the dead had only then started to register with you too. Maybe it was your hearing turning on you or maybe Daryl had just a trained ear. Realising that he was close to shooting again, you stopped him with a hand.

"Can I?"

With a careful look, he lowered his weapon again, motioning for you to go ahead, bringing a small grin to your face. His hand was quicker than yours as he pulled out a bow from your bag, handing it over to you before leaving you to do your thing. Drawing it tightly, you didn't let a lot more seconds pass before sending the arrow straight through the geek's eye.

"Fuck, yeah-" Grinning to yourself for a split second before you realised the words that had dropped from your tongue. "Sorry," you were quick to apologise, getting a look of pure confusion from Daryl in return.

"What? Ya not allowed to curse or somethin'?" Oh, if he only knew. After years of being with Shane, you had found yourself truly swearing off the usage of any curse words as your fiancé had labelled them 'unladylike', sending you a look of disapproval each time it would escape you accidentally. Strict looks had turned into warnings, which then turned into arguments, so you had just learned to bite your tongue.

You were about to head up to get it back, back Daryl's voice stopped you.

"Stay'ere." He walked past you towards the now truly dead thing to get your arrow back. After ripping it out of its head again, he took a good look around, turning his entire body before coming back to you.

"They're usually not alone," he pushed the arrow into your hands. "Let's see what else we can find and get the hell outta 'ere before it gets dark."

You just nodded in agreement before following him again. This time, you noticed walking side by side with him as he had slowed down his strides.

To you, it seemed like a relatively comfortable silence, but Daryl didn't agree with that apparently as his grunt slashed through it,

"Yer husband know you can hunt?"

A sigh evidently fell from your lips, but you were able to hold back a roll of your eyes. He was trying to keep up the conversation and you couldn't not admit that you quite enjoyed not necessarily having to walk in complete silence. Even if it meant talking about Shane apparently.

"Don't know," you shrugged.

"What d'ya mean, ya don't know? Yer never talked about that? Ain't he supposed to know ya inside out or some shit like that?" You knew, deep down his words held nothing but truth, yet, you had learned to ignore remarks like that, knowing that Shane was just a different kind of partner than most.

"Why should he know about something he's not interested in?" As long as you weren't out on your own and at home in the evening with a homecooked meal waiting for him, he had never truly cared about what you did. Lying, you'd be out with your friends for a few hours while doing something completely different had gotten you far. Him working late hours most days only helped. You never even thought about telling him about the childhood hobby you had started at 8 years old and had carried with you up until well into adulthood. While you had left home as soon as you had turned 18, knowing Atlanta was the place you'd want to study in, archery was one of the things that had kept you connected to home. To your dad.

"That don't sound righ' if ya ask me," he commented.

"Well," you couldn't help but sigh again, "good thing he's not your issue to worry about."

"But he is." His comment made you stop. Daryl was quick to notice you not walking beside him anymore, making him stop and turn. "I gotta worry about him havin' my balls on a stick if he sees me talkin' to ya."

"Then don't!"

"Then why d'ya follow me into the woods, huh?" It looked like you were about to start a fight with Daryl Dixon.

"Because Dale asked me to. Because no one trusts you to do anything good for the group on your own," you spat at him, continuing your way, making sure to bump his shoulder as you passed him.

The archer scoffed, "Yeah because everyone trusts ya lil' husband oh so much to care for every-"

You came to another halt. "He's not my husband! We're engaged, you ignorant fuck!"

"Oh, careful," Daryl eyed you, "What would'e say if he heard ya talkin' like that, huh?" Sending you a provocative look that made you take a deep breath in, trying to contain your anger.

"I think you got a brother to worry about, Dixon. Enough drama there, don't snoop into other people's lives."

That seemed to have done the job as he kept quiet while you walked ahead. It took a few seconds before you heard him behind you again, proud of yourself for leaving him stunned even if it was just for a short moment. You didn't want to snap at him like that, you had to admit. It just came out and if you could take it back, you would've. He wasn't directly snooping, you knew that. You weren't here to make enemies, at least you didn't want to. You desperately wanted to get along with everyone as best as possible. Not meaning that you'd have to become close friends with each person in the group, just good colleagues.

With your mind deep in thought, overthinking every word you had just dropped, you didn't notice the ruffling leaves close by. Not until you felt a tug on your arm that made you stop. Almost annoyed, you turned around, only to find Daryl lifting his finger to his lips, telling you to keep quiet. At first, you looked at him in confusion but the moment you heard a grunt, your ears perked up as you started to glance around. You had just ran into a geek with the Dixon brother reminding you that they usually travelled in bigger groups, meaning the possibility of another one being close by wasn't that small.

The grunting continued making your frown only deepen. It didn't necessarily sound like one of the dead, you realised. Daryl started moving around slowly and as quietly as possible, you following close behind, keeping ducked down just in case.

Suddenly, you caught another noise. One that sounded less like a grunt and more like a... moan? Clearly just as confused as you, the archer turned around to meet your gaze for a split second. 

With each step the two of you took further, the noises became much clearer. Shuffling leaves, grunts, and clear moans were now hitting your ear. One specific huff of air made a cold shiver run down your spine. It's like your body knew before your eyes could even see it.

Daryl and you hit a raised ground that kept you from seeing where the noise was coming from as you were still crouched down. But as soon as you let your back straighten, every last bit of air left your lungs. You saw the auburn hair spread out on the grass first. Directly next to it, an all too familiar head of black curls, the face deep in her neck, muting the moans coming from him. With each pound, they became heavier and louder. You already knew it. Right as Shane lifted his head though, you could feel yourself wanting to scream. And if it wasn't for the hand suddenly covering your mouth, you would've.

You were pulled onto the ground, back into your crouched position, and dragged back from where you came from. As hard as you tried to fight the grip the archer had on you, it was no use as he was clearly much stronger than you. The leaves and branches brushed against your pants as he kept tugging on you to keep you right up against him, not daring to loosen the hand covering your lip

Once it seemed far away enough for him, Daryl let go of you, letting you fall to the ground completely as you desperately choked up for air.

"You bastard-" You went at him, only for him to cover your mouth once again.

He pulled you in hard. "Ya screamin' 'ere and an entire hoard will hear ya. Keep quiet," he hissed at you in a whisper. You never noticed the soft specks of green that decorated his striking blue eyes. Not until then.

A quick moment of silence followed as your eyes suddenly filled with tears. Daryl's gaze softened immediately, removing his hand from you as if your skin had turned into burning hot metal.

While you had started to sob in the middle of the woods, trying to keep as quiet as possible, the archer didn't know what else to do, but to stand next to you, his eyes fixed on your shaking shoulders. He wasn't the right person to console someone. Nor did he even know how.

"I told ya he's an asshole," he mumbled, clearly not at the right moment as you sent him an angry frown.

"You didn't tell me sh-"

"I tried tellin' ya!" Raising his voice just a bit to turn his tone stern, yet keeping the volume low enough. "I told ya he ain't interested in anyone but that woman and her son."

"I want to go back," you sniffled, feeling your chest painfully tightening.

"Go back to 'em?!"

"Back to the camp, idiot!" You snapped at him, your hand flying up to your chest. "I feel like I'm gonna throw up." Trying to take deep breaths in that just continuously proved to be hard as you only choked up more. Coughing mixed with your sobs, you fell onto your knees, your hand clutching the very top of your chest as you tried to breathe.

"Hey-" Daryl fell onto the ground right in front of you, his rough hands grabbing you by your shoulders to pull you straight, trying to get you to look at him. "Calm down," he strictly told you.

"H-He-" you sobbed, "he... fucked her. He just-", coughing again as the air got stuck in your throat.

"I know- hey-" you lowered your head to look at the ground beneath you, only for Darly to grab your chin and make you look back up again. "He's a fuckin' idiot. Don't cry 'bout him."

"W-What did I do?" You asked, technically hypothetically, as you continued to choke on your own cries. "What do- How?!"

"Ya didn't do anythin'," he tried to console you. "He's a dumb fuckin' bastard. A coward. A stupid mongo-"

"Lori... I-I thought-," stopping yourself again as another sob shot through your body.

"It's okay," Daryl whispered, "don't fuckin' cry for 'em. Ya think they would cry for ya?"

"What about Carl?!" You ignored his comment, instead continuing to throw out whatever came to your head.

The archer shook his head, "That ain' your problem to worry 'bout."

"She- she just lost her husband... a-and now this?!" 

Before Daryl could say anything, you brushed off his hands from your shoulders and raked yourself up.

Still sniffling, you looked around. "We gotta go back." Noticing that the sun had already started to set and no one was supposed to be out in the dark.

With a grunt, he copied you, pushing himself up to stand again while his eyes continued to follow you as you tried to get yourself back together. You could feel his gaze burning holes into your skin, making you look up. Cheeks tears stained, burning read. Your eyes were swollen, still letting single drops of tears escape as you slowly managed to even out your breathing.

"Let's go back." You re-secured the bag and bog on your shoulder before turning around to walk to the camp. A sigh escaped Daryl's lips as he shook his head slightly before jogging up towards you, stopping you with his hands back on your shoulders. He swiftly turned you around, only to let go again, his steps slowing down to let you walk ahead. This time, in the right direction.

The way back was spent mostly in silence, only a few remarks coming from the archer each time he had to tell you to either turn right or left. In no time, you had come back, finding most of the group either already back in their tents or gathered by the SUV. The sun had fully set, now the only source of natural light coming from the soft glow of the moon.

"There you are!" Dale called out as soon as his eyes found you. The smile that had started to spread on his lips fell quickly as soon as you got close enough to him to let him see the dishevelled state you were in. "What happened?" He gasped, but you just shook your head and made a quick B-turn towards your tent. The tent you shared with Shane.

The older man's tone changed quickly, clearly blaming one specific person for your mood as he followed behind you not much later.

"What the hell did you do to her?" Dale snapped at Daryl, only to get a scoff in return.

"How abou' you ask her asshole fiancé." The Dixon brother left him with that, ignoring the looks of the people around them. He opened his satch to take out the two chipmunks you had caught, only to throw them onto a set-up table and disappear down towards the quarry.

In the comfort of the plastic walls, with the bow and arrows set down outside, you had let yourself let go one more time, the tears not needing more than mere seconds before running down your cheeks again. You couldn't continue crying about this.

'Ya think they would cry for ya?'

Daryl's words rang through your mind. You hated to admit that he was most probably right.

Your relationship with Shane wasn't tense. At least until a few months ago. It had always been a little bit more difficult than you would've liked to, but you remembered the words of your mother, saying 'marriage is hard', making you realise that most likely each couple had their fair share of issues to work through. And you and Shane seemed to just have a good amount of those. Either disagreements, discussions, or different ideas and wants. Everything from as simple as the colour of your living room walls, to which state you'd have your wedding in - since your grandma was almost bedridden, you had proposed to have at least the officiant ceremony in Ohio, but Shane was, surprise, against that.

You glanced down at your ring. A gold band, holding a small square diamond right in the middle. It was beautiful. Even though you had always solely worn silver jewellery and had mentioned the classic round diamond as your dream style. Still, you had accepted the proposal. You looked past the smirks he would send waitresses and secretaries. Ignored comments he made about other people in your life. You had even given in and promised him not to get too close to anyone in the group that was right outside.

It was never 'controlling' in your eyes. You didn't know any better. But while you had to lock yourself away, making doing laundry your only form of 'entertainment', he was having fun with a presumed widow. Whereas he had told you and everyone else that he would be spending the day trying to hunt down 'something big'. 

You shook your head. You had all the reasons to leave him already months ago and yet you didn't. A lot of your friends had told you you'd regret marrying him. But he had managed to get into your head, making you think that they were the crazy ones. That all of your 'dumb sorority girlfriends' had no idea what they were talking about.

Comments and stares were one thing you could look past, but cheating... you had to draw the line somewhere. You remembered all the times your college friends came crying into the dorm, sobbing into their pillows as they complained about their boyfriends fucking around with other girls on campus. Everyone would gather and support them with one opinion: dump him. Leave him. He doesn't deserve you.

'I told ya he ain't interested in anyone but that woman and her son.'

There was Daryl's voice again in the back of your head. Screaming at you. If even he could see it, yet you were too blind to realise it...

With one final deep breath in, you gathered the sleeping bag you had claimed for yourself into your arms, along with your pillow. You managed to drag everything out of the tent, suddenly feeling more free than ever.

Looking around, you found no one sitting outside anymore, indicating most had gone to bed, but the light inside the RV made you hopeful. You couldn't sleep in your shared tent tonight. Or ever again. And Dale was your only other choice. With everything packed in your arms, you made your way over to the vehicle, knocking on the door with your foot. Two voices made you look behind you, your face immediately falling when you found Shane and Lori coming back from the woods. They took their goddamn time.

The door opened, catching your attention again. Dale looked at you in confusion but before he could say anything, you beat him to it.

"Can I sleep here tonight?"

Forget about your age. Suddenly, you felt like a little kid again. Too scared to sleep on their own, begging their parents to let them sleep in their room.

"Y/N?" Shane's rough voice called out your name, making your heartbeat quicken.

You looked up at the older man in panic. "Please."

With no hesitation, Dale nodded, stepping aside to let you walk in, ushering you inside with his hand. Daryl's remark from earlier had engraved itself in his brain as soon as he found the sheriff strutting over to his RV in big steps.

"What is she doing, Dale?" He wondered, his voice holding slight anger to it. "Y/N!" He shouted out your name again, but you gave him no response.

The older man stopped Shane from coming any closer.

"You better leave, son."

"What the fuck did I do?!" He unknowingly asked before getting the RV's door closed in his face.

The moment silence took over the enclosed room, Dale turned to you, now sitting on the small sofa.

"What the fuck did he do?"

If there was one person in this apocalyptic world that you had come to trust, it was Dale. He had already let you into his home, he deserved to get a reason for it.

You could already feel the tears filling your eyes again. Both of you ignored the knocks on the door, the old man's eyes fixed solely on you as he sat down by the small dining table, ready to wait patiently for you to answer his question.

"He... he cheated on me...," You couldn't hold back the sob that followed. "With Lori." The added remark made Dale's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He leaned back into his chair, taking off his hat to run a hand through his hair as he huffed out a chunk of air.

"Daryl and I- we saw them in the woods-," You let your head fall into the palms of your hand. The old man was quick back on his feet, on his way over to you.

"Oh, honey," sighing out, but stopping as the heavy knocks on the door continued. With an annoyed huff, he rushed over to the door to pull it open.

"Get the fuck away from my RV!" Shouting at Shane, not even giving him a moment to answer as he smashed the door close again.

"I-I don't know what to do." You admitted in sobs, glancing up at the man as he got closer to you, making space to sit down next to you. A comforting arm found its way around your shoulder while his other hand rubbed your upper arm.

"That man doesn't deserve an angel like you," he whispered at you, hoping his calming voice would soothe your cries. "He clearly doesn't know what he lost with a stupid act like that."

"He proposed to me," you showed him the ring in desperation. "Only to cheat on me?"

"What can I tell ya, kid... young men are...," Dale sighed as he shook his head. "Dumb... and blind. They think they own the world."

You continued to sob in the man's arms. Listening to his soft voice as he spoke to you while you kept on your rambles of despair. Why Lori out of all people? You used to go out on double dates with your partners. You had known Rick Grimes for a good few years now. He was a good man. You had thought Lori was a good woman. But there she went, sleeping with an engaged man. The colleague, and best friend of her husband. Who may or may not be dead. Maybe Rick was gone, but you were still there. Only one partner of the cheating couple was widowed. The other part was still very much in a committed relationship. Or so you thought.

"W-What do I do now?" You wondered out loud. "How am I supposed to continue this?" Not necessarily talking about your relationship with Shane, but the situation altogether.

"You don't." Daryl's simple but straightforward answer made you look up. In the meantime, your sobs had quieted down again.

"What?"

"You tell him," he strictly told you. "You tell him what you saw. And you end it. Men like that... they don't change."

"God...," you fell back into the cushions behind you, running your hands down your face as you wiped the tears away. "Was I just... not good enough for him anymore? Why would he do something like this?"

"I wish I could tell ya, honey. But don't think that this has anythin' to do with you," Dale's stern voice made you glance at him. "Men like him don't think. You think he really thought of the possible consequences of his actions?"

You shrugged.

"He didn't. If he did, he wouldn't have done it. And men like don't deserve a second chance. Hell- they don't even deserve a first chance. But they're charming and whatnot, and before you know it, they're havin' their dicks in other women, breaking hearts of the ones that actually care about them."

You decided to stay quiet, letting his words sink in and register with you.

"You don't deserve that, honey."

Nodding your head, you took a deep breath in, wiping your nose. "I know..." With a sigh, you pushed yourself to stand up. "I have to talk to him."

"You sure, you wanna do that tonight?" The man carefully asked you, but you had already made up your mind, so you just continued to nod.

Quietly, you left the RV, of course not before Dale promised to set up a bed for you to stay in inside his movable home. You knew you had found the confidence to face your- Shane. Yet, your shaking legs and hands almost betrayed you. Realising, you didn't even truly think about how to start the conversation, the anxiety inside of you only started to bubble up more, hitting its highest point when you suddenly saw Shane exiting your tent.

His eyes fixed on you in the dark, finding your silhouette coming towards him thanks to the light shining through the RV's windows.

"Y/N-" he started, but you interrupted him right away.

"It's over."

Shane's eyebrows scrunched together. "What?"

"It's over," you repeated, finding your voice slightly shakier than you would've liked to. You glanced down your hands, almost mindlessly, wrapping your fingers around the gold band. Once, the sight of the shimmering ring on your finger made you smile, now it just shot another wave of sadness through your body. Almost shakingly, you took the last step, pulling the gold band off your finger, the metal leaving your skin, making you breathe out heavily.

"Hey- hey," the sheriff rushed closer to you, making you scoot back in reflex. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"What am I doing?" You spat at him, a salty chuckle tumbling from your lips. There was a slight change in expression on his face as he lifted his hands in defence.

"Listen-"

"No, you listen," you stopped him again. You didn't even let your brain think about what words were about to fall from your lips. "Don't even try-" You had to stop yourself, taking a deep breath in, trying to promise yourself not to cry in front of the man that you had lost so many nerves to.

"What the hell are you doing?" He continued to ask you, his frown only deepening.

But you just continued to shake your head, ignoring the anger starting to lace his voice. You had seen Shane angry before. Even angry at you. And it scared you. But right now, the anger, you were trying to hold back, should terrify everyone involved in this situation.

Taking a few steps closer to stop right in front of him, you lifted your hand that was still tightly holding onto the ring you had once worn and shown off proudly. Once Shane opened his palm underneath it, you let it drop down.

"It's over." Before he could ask you anything more, you left him with one last comment hanging in the air. "Have fun with Lori."

Turning around, you could hear his heavy huffs and the callouts of your name, yet he didn't even dare to try and reach out to you, leaving you to make your way back towards the RV. In the back, the sound of him knocking over some of the empty cans you had gathered, filled the silence. Up ahead, you found a silhouette standing still, almost scaring you if it wasn't for the distinct stance you were able to recognise immediately. The dim light illuminated Daryl's scowl as he had clearly watched the scene from a distance.

Arrived at the door of the vehicle, you wanted to at least send him a tight smile, a goodnight and somewhat of a thank you, but the archer had already disappeared again in his usual nature.

I CAN‘T WAIT TO POST PART 2🙈🤗🥰 I loved writing this so much omg

this is me officially stating I'm writing for the man that is Daryl Dixon now too :)

#Daryl dixon x reader #Shane Walsh #fluff #twd #the walking dead #Norman reedus #Jon bernthal #let me tell you something #one shot #imagine #fem!reader #series #masterlist

[dixons-sunshine]

Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU Headcannons Part 4 | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Word count: 625.

A/n: Okay, so here's some more of my own personal headcannons for this au because I have nothing else to post lol. However, these focus more on the canon timeline, because I want to write more for this au in the show's events. Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy!

★ When the quarry camp got overrun with walkers, Daryl couldn't find you at first.

★ His whole world shattered for a moment when he called for you but you didn't answer him. He thought that the walkers had gotten you, and he was ready to kill anyone and anything in his path.

★ However, you finally called out to him. When you did, he ran to you and practically crushed your body to him.

★ He had just lost his brother. He couldn't handle losing you, too.

★ He held you that entire night. He wouldn't let you go.

★ When everyone got to the CDC, Daryl was relieved. Not only were you safe, but there was a doctor that could help deliver the baby.

★ He spent the night (while very slightly intoxicated) cuddled up on your stomach. Before he fell asleep, he whispered sweet nothings to your baby, his baby, as well as saying an endless amount of “I love you's” to you.

★ Yeah, that dream of his got ruined quickly. You think he was pissed at Jenner in the show? Multiply that by a hundred when his wife and unborn child are in danger. The only reason Jenner didn't get a beating was because you were clinging to him and trying to calm him down.

★ When those doors opened, he practically dragged you out of there. The others were still stumbling around, but the two of you were running for those doors upstairs the minute Jenner opened the doors.

★ When the horde on the highway passed and everyone was looking for Sophia, you were right by his side. He wanted you to stay by the RV but with T-Dog injured and him not fully trusting only Dale to keep you safe, he brought you along.

★ Not without a gun, though. He trusted your shooting skills. The two of you had taken up shooting practice with guns for hunting back in the day, so he felt comfortable enough with letting you carry a gun.

★ It did take a lot of threatening convincing for Shane to give in, but Daryl wouldn't let up.

★ When the farm finally came along, your escapades were put on a temporary halt.

★ Not because he didn't trust you to help look for Sophia, but because with the safety the farm provided and with a doctor available, it was time to properly start thinking of the baby.

★ Hershel gave the two of you a few baby books to read, and Daryl stayed up late into the night while you slept, reading and preparing himself for everything.

★ He did get excited when he learnt that having sex didn't hurt the baby, but he would never force you into that. It was just nice knowing that if you wanted to, he could give you what you wanted without having to worry about hurting the baby.

★ You did want it, more easily aroused than ever before because of your hormones, but there was a time and place for that—Hershel's farm while sleeping in a tent near everyone wasn't the time nor place for that.

★ Daryl really wanted the farm to work out. Unlike in the show, he'd be on Rick's side with wanting to stay. It was the safest option for you and your unborn baby, and he'd be damned if someone (Shane) ruined everything.

★ When Daryl got shot, he may or may not have been proud of you when news of you punching Andrea circled back to him.

★ He did get a proper scolding from you for scaring you like that, though.

★ He wasn't mad because he understood, and when he saw your tears, he brought you into his arms, despite the pain in his body.

★ You were the only one who was able to reach out to him when everyone found out that Sophia was dead.

★ Seeing walker Sophia instilled a new yet old fear in him—what if he failed your baby? What if your baby died because he couldn't protect them? What if you died because he couldn't protect you?

★ It took a lot of comforting to calm him down. You knew that you wouldn't be able to erase his fear, but you could be there for him and reassure him to the best of your abilities.

#krys writes .ೃ࿐ #shopping spree hangout dreams #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #twd daryl #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x female reader #daryl x you #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n

[seat-safety-switch]

Motorhomes are basically a home with a motor in it. Although this definition also covers my home (which has several motors inside it,) we’ll elide that particular information and move on to the thrust of my story. A heavily-used motorhome, especially one that’s been sitting out in a farmer’s field for years, is cheap.

There’s a lot of reasons for this, the primary one being that they quickly become the primary residence of field mice. Although the Disney corporation will tell you that mice are cheerful and fun friends, this is at best a lie of omission. What mice actually do is pee and poop all over everything, chew the insulation off of wires, and occasionally crawl inside part of the climate control system and die. Like my uncle used to say at his used car dealership, if you find a dead critter in this one, we’ll take ten percent off.

I know what you’re saying: even with a discount, how can it be worthwhile if you have to tear out all the “home” part and replace it with new upholstery, new carpet, and new walls? The answer is the “motor” part. Motorhomes are often equipped with enormous, lazy engines, designed to rack up the miles with little or no maintenance. Those engines will outlive the owners’ disinterest in ever going anywhere. As long as you’re willing to dispose of the wrapper it came in, you can have a pretty beefy V8 for surprisingly few pennies (before your trip to the local speed shop to pick up several hundred dollars of Chinese camshafts and nitrous oxide kits.)

Of course, I did mention the big problem there: disposing of it. Just how do you get rid of a motorhome? Towing them is expensive, so you should make your best effort at getting it running and drive it to its final destination. Wherever you take it needs to be cool with you sawzalling the engine out of the chassis and taking off with it in the back of a pickup truck. Most junkyards are wise to your bullshit, and won’t accept a vehicle that’s ninety percent wood and mouse piss by volume.

The answer, naturally, is just to drive it right back to a farmer’s field. Maybe find one with a bunch of other RVs already there, and tuck it into the pack. It might be years until they find out about it, and today’s battery-powered sawzalls are both extremely quiet and very easy to return to Home Depot for a refund when you’re done. It’s called “recycling,” and it’s very good for the planet.

[a-killer-obsession]

PITCHING TENTS ⛺️

Kid Pirates x AFAB Reader Modern AU Campground Series

🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

It wasn't something you'd ever admit to those who knew you, they all made the reasonable assumption that you went camping to spend time alone. At first, that had been the case, but you'd quickly come to learn that other single men your age were doing the same thing, and you found yourself loving the thrill of a romp with a stranger.

Masterlist || AO3

PART 1/6 - LAY OF THE LAND

CW: None for this chapter, just R18 mentions of sex.

WC: ~3k

Taglist: @nocturnalrorobin

A/n: I'm vaguely setting this in my home country of NZ, based on a campsite I frequent, for entirely selfish purposes but also because it's easy to describe a place you've been to a million times. Anyway, when I mention forests those are the kinds I mean, no fear of a rogue bear or mountain lion ✌️

You pulled into the quiet campsite in the middle of nowhere as you did every year around this time. Set between large mountainous hills covered in dense forest, and boasting a pool heated naturally by nearby geothermal activity, the site was a popular, bustling location in the on season. You, however, enjoyed the off season, when it was quiet, almost entirely abandoned save for the grounds keeper and his dog, and a handful of long term residents, living out their retirements in quiet bliss in the RVs that lined the very back of the campgrounds. You parked your humble car in front of the office that was built alongside a small shop, usually selling entry and icecreams to locals who came here for the pools, but also held a selection of basics such as toilet paper and cup noodles for campers in desperate need of a grocery trip.

The gravel that lined the carpark crunched underfoot as you made your way to the wooden ramp that led to the office and store building, the whole complex no bigger than a shipping container. The eggy smell of sulphur from the nearby geothermal activity filled your nostrils, unpleasant at first but a smell you'd quickly get accustomed to as you always did. A bell rang as you opened the door, the older woman assigned to mind the store today hurrying out from out back, you could hear the TV she'd been watching as she came out front. This time of the year customers were nil to none, so the counters relied on bells for service, usually unmanned otherwise. The chances of someone stealing from the store while it was unoccupied were slim, but you could assume they had a camera set up to watch from a screen out back anyway.

“[Y/n]!” The old woman exclaimed, taking her seat behind the desk, “I was happy to see you on our books this morning”

“Can't miss my mid-year vacay, Marg,” you replied with a smile, pulling out your wallet and leaning against the desk. You'd been coming here for years, and Margie had worked here for just as long. “What do I owe ya?”

“Minus the deposit you already paid, that'll be $65 sweetheart,” she smiled, clicking a few buttons on the keyboard at a snail pace as she worked on printing a receipt. You handed her the cash and the til made a clunk as the drawer popped open, Marg replacing your four twenty dollar notes with a five and a ten and handing them back to you. You slipped them back into your wallet and she handed you a keycard for the gate that kept pool visitors and strangers out of the campgrounds. Well, their cars anyway, they could absolutely just walk around it.

“Usual spot sweetheart, I'm sure you don't need a map,” she stood to return to her back room. She was definitely getting older, and standing was clearly more difficult for her than it had been in previous years. You'd be sad the year you came to camp and weren't greeted by her friendly face

You thanked her and made your exit, getting back into your car and making sure to roll down your window. You slowly made the short distance to the card receiver, leaning out your window a little to hold the card against it. A small light flashed green and the metal arm creaked as it began to raise. Your car was small, so you didn't have to wait for it to raise completely before you were passing underneath it and navigating the familiar gravel roads to your favourite spot. There were no additional parking spots at each spot, you were expected to either park on them or leave your car in front of the office, so you pulled onto the grass alongside the road between the brick lines that marked the boundary of your spot.

Your usual spot was close to the middle of the grounds, directly across from the communal kitchen building, and just a thirty second walk from the main toilet and shower block. There were other, smaller toilet blocks scattered around the grounds, but this was the only one that featured showers and laundry. The kitchen building was also just a nice place to hang out, having a semi covered outdoor area framed by benches, one of the only places other than your own rented spot where you were allowed to drink alcohol, so it was a great place to meet other campers. At first glance, anyone would think a lone woman coming to a campground on the off season was here for peace and quiet. On the contrary, you found during the busy season there were usually far too many large families and happy couples. The off season was for singles, and you were here for one thing and one thing only: sex with strangers.

It wasn't something you'd ever admit to those who knew you, they all made the reasonable assumption that you were here to spend time alone, always turning down offers from friends to join you. At first, that had been the case. A spontaneous camping trip in the middle of the year to cool down after a particularly stressful project at work finally wrapped up. But you'd quickly come to learn that other single men your age were doing the same thing, and you found yourself loving the thrill of a romp with a stranger. The campsite being so empty also made for additional excitement, after many years here you'd had sex in or on most of the campground's amenities. The kitchen, the pool, the showers, on top of a laundry machine. It was an excitement you struggled to find in the big city you came from, without wasting money on a hotel room there was no good way to have sex with a stranger without being caught and without them knowing where you lived and getting attached, because like hell were you going to a strange man's house on your own.

You quickly set about working on your tent, pulling item after item from the back of your car and setting up with well practised speed. Soon you were closing the car boot and admiring your work. A decently sized, two chambered tent - the first chamber holding your cooler and a small fold down table for prepping a quick snack at night. The kitchens had multiple large fridges available for use, but you liked to keep your beer and soda in an ice bath in your tent for easy access. Every morning and evening you would go to the small camp store and buy a bag of ice, but for now the cooler was empty. The second chamber was larger and held most of your belongings, as well as a queen sized, double layered, inflatable mattress, already set with comfortable bedding. You even had a small fold down side table and camping lamp, which had a handle for late night toilet visits, and you'd run an extension cable from the site provided power you'd paid extra for, to your side table, so you could charge your phone and laptop from the bed. There was no internet here, and barely any phone signal, but you'd downloaded plenty of movies, tv shows and e-books before leaving home, as well as bringing a handful of actual novels, a switch console and drawing supplies. You weren't a fantastic artist by any stretch of the imagination, but it was a hobby you enjoyed and liked to practise anyway.

Outside your tent you'd also set up a small gazebo, after your first few years you'd gotten sick of being trapped inside the tent whenever it rained, and it also provided shelter for a large trestle table and tabletop barbecue so you could grill regardless of the rain. There were also a few collapsible chairs under the gazebo, a larger reclining one where you spent most of your time, and a smaller more basic one in case you had a guest. Aka another camper you intended to, or hand already fucked.

Satisfied with your setup, you took a quick break to check your phone and let your friends know you'd made it safe and sound, before climbing back in your car and heading to the grocery store in the small nearby town. The town was about a twenty minute drive away, a small oceanside tourist town that was mostly a pass through for those heading to a nearby famous beach, or to board boats or small privately run helicopters for whale and dolphin watching. You'd never bothered with the tourist traps, but you had once or twice hit the beach when you'd come during the on season with friends.

Thriving on local tourism, the town was humble compared to the city you'd come from, but large enough to have two supermarkets and a decent size home goods store, as well as a long stretch of boutiques and cafes. You head to your favourite supermarket, pulling into the half full car park and heading inside. You pulled up your list on your phone as you approached the doors, grabbing a trolley and setting about your shopping. Food for several days, beer, condoms, all very important. A novel that caught your eye, some trashy magazines, snacks for late night movies. A comically large cucumber caught your eye, and you snapped a pic to send to your friends with the caption ‘finally found a boyfriend 🥒💦’

Everything on your list gathered, you headed for the checkouts. A big, noisy, red ute pulled into the carpark as you started loading your groceries into the reusable totes you kept in the back of your car. It parked nearby and four fucking massive men jumped out, shoving each other and laughing boisterously. Definitely not locals by the looks of it, the back of the ute loaded up with what looked like camping equipment, tied down with straps and a piece of blue tarpaulin that didn't cover everything. You wondered if they'd be staying at the same grounds as you, it was the most well known in the area given its pool that was free use for the campers and the nearby hiking trail that offered incredible views of the entire area all the way out to the ocean. You licked your lips at their beefy builds, a girl could certainly dream, any of them would make a fine target for your sexual escapades.

The red haired one among them wolf whistled as he passed by, as you bent over the boot of your car to reach an extra tote that had fallen under a seat. You turned back to him, a hand on your hip, and winked playfully. He blushed, clearly not having expected that reaction, and his friends whooped and smacked him playfully. The group followed behind the redhead who was fleeing as fast as he could, and you continued packing away your groceries and returned your trolley before heading back to camp.

When you got back you unpacked everything, putting your chillables in the provided fridges, your name written in clear black marker over each package, and filled your cooler with the bag of ice you'd grabbed from the camp store on your way in before putting your beer and soda in to chill. The food that didn't need refrigeration was stored in your tent in a small latchable plastic box to keep any rodents away. All done with your chores, you ate a quick lunch of some pre-made food you'd grabbed at the supermarket, and decided to hit up the pool.

You made your way back up the gravel path from the pool, slide on sandals on your feet and a towel wrapped around your body. You were still in your bikini, your wet hair sending droplets of fresh water from the rinsing shower down your body. You watched a bird native to the area fly overhead before the sound of boisterous laughter caught your attention. Usually, at this time of the year, campsite guests would pick locations far away from each other, most people came here this time of the year to be alone. The grounds were arranged in blocks, each block holding ten or twelve sites, split with half to one road and half to another. There were a good amount of blocks, the grounds could probably accommodate a good couple hundred people at its peak, though right now you could only see three other tents far from yours.

You could hear the group before you spotted their red ute, the same one from the grocery store, obscured by your own setup until you got closer. They'd rented what looked like multiple sites right next to yours. Usually, you would be annoyed, but being that they were all so delicious you were delighted. This was going to be a successful holiday indeed.

The group was made up of four large men. There was the redhead who had whistled at you, he looked to be the youngest of the group, as wide as he was tall with a thick scar that ran down his face, giving him a natural bad boy appearance. He was soft looking, but in a strong, could definitely throw you over his shoulder sort of way, like a boxer. You noticed now that he was missing his left arm, it must have been facing away from you at the store. He wore eyeliner, which you noticed now they all did, along with a vibrant red lipstick that matched his hair. He looked very punk in dark ripped jeans and a leather vest he wore open, showing the scar that ran over his torso, along with a big fuck-off belt buckle and multiple silver chains hanging from his belt. The nails on his one hand were painted a darker red, and he had a black fabric headband holding back his wild hair.

Next was the shortest of the group, though certainly not short by normal standards. Dressed in a simple blue t-shirt and jeans, his impressive blond hair went all the way to his hips. His sharp featured face was partially obscured by messy straight bangs and a fluffy goatee, his lips painted purple as he flashed a bright toothy smile at the redhead.

The other two both dressed in a punk aesthetic much like the redhead, two slightly older men with impressive heights, one of them towering above all four of them. The shorter man had pale blue hair set in dreads, his face covered in unusual scars and thorn like tattoos wrapping around his neck and down his arms. The taller hid his hair under a black hoodie, but you could see pointed sideburns peeking out under them. He looked deliciously muscular under the tight netting shirt he wore.

The four of them were going about their setup, four separate single chamber tents laid out on the ground to sort their positions while the blond and tall one carried an excessive amount of grocery bags to the shared kitchen. It was just as well there was hardly anyone at the camp, they'd need a whole fridge on their own with that much food. Deciding to make your intentions clear as soon as possible, you laid a towel over your reclining chair and grabbed a beer, relaxing in your bikini that showed off your fit body. The redhead was quick to notice, and you tilted your sunglasses to wink at him. He realised why he recognized you and you heard him swear and scurry away. Cute.

You watched their entire setup process hungrily, watching their muscles flex as they unloaded the ute and set things in place. The redhead was no help with the tents, so he worked on setting up smaller things like their large barbecue and chairs while the other three got the tents erected. You couldn't help but notice that they hadn't brought a gazebo, they must be newbies. Hopefully the weather would be fine for however long they were staying, you hoped for more than one day, and given the amount of food they had you would guess at least three.

All of them eventually took notice of you, catching sly glances where they could. The blond one seemed the most confident, openly flexing and showing off, flashing you wide grins that you eagerly returned. Oh you would definitely be climbing that tree. The redhead continued to act shy, doing things that were clearly to show of his strength but refusing to meet your eye. The bluenette gave you kind looking smiles, and the tall one looked at you with suspicion, which you always responded to by changing which leg was crossed over the other, giving him a full view of your barely clothed centre. It didn't seem to phase him though, curious.

Your phone pinged at some point and you checked it, starting a conversation with your bestie about your current view. She was the only person who knew the real reason you took these holidays. You snapped a quick, sneaky pic of the four men as they set up.

You: [one attachment] You: finally found a boyfriend 🥒💦 Bestie: LMAO finally a man that can satisfy You: might have found a few more of those Bestie: yeah? Good huntin? 👀 You: new neighbours You: [one attachment] Bestie: fuck me Bestie: or rather, fuck you, hopefully You: the blond one is giving me eyes for sure Bestie: yeah? You layin down that charm girlie You: lets just say i just got back from the pool, and im enjoying a nice beer on my recliner 👙 Bestie: yes queen! Give them a good look at that meal, they're gonna be eatin you up in no time! You: fingers crossed 🤞 you know im in dire need of a good fuck, heres hoping they're not all just a gay polycule, that'd be just my luck Bestie: well it sounds like at least the blond is dtf You: hes got a cute ass smile, cant wait to ride it 🤠 Bestie: girl you are nasty! 😂 Go get that dick queen 🍆 ttyl, ily! You: luv u!

You put down your phone and finished your beer, deciding you'd laid around for long enough and it was probably time to get started on dinner. It was already late in the day, if you were going to attract any of the boys it likely wouldn't be today, you needed the novelty of camping to wear off for them before they came sniffing around for more excitement. Not to mention you were tired from driving all morning and setting up. You pulled a few things from the kitchen, carrying them back on one of your plastic camping plates, and grilled yourself a steak while you scooped a few premade deli salads onto your plate. You enjoyed your meal while reading your new book, noting the smell of meat in the air and the sounds of sizzling and beer cans opening nearby as your neighbours settled in for their own dinner.

When it got too dark to read you took your dishes to the kitchen to wash them, grabbed your toiletries from your tent, and took a quick shower. The weather was warm enough to make the short walk in your nightie, so you strutted back to your tent with your legs and cleavage on proud display, your nipples pert under the satin night dress which was trimmed with thick lace, hanging from your shoulders by delicate spaghetti straps. You'd never have walked around in public like this if you had neighbours you weren't trying to fuck, but you were more than happy for the boys to look at you, and look they did. You gave them a short wave before you entered your tent, grabbing a new beer and your laptop and settling in to watch a movie.

[NEXT PART]

#one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #killer one piece #killer x reader #massacre soldier killer #heat one piece #heat x reader #kid pirates #eustass kid #kid one piece #kid x reader #eustass kid x reader #kid pirates x reader #wire one piece #wire x reader

[oneknightstand-if]

@necrolich666 replied to your post “On a completely unrelated note, did you know that...”:

This is obviously just a random funfact and not foreshadowing

What's that I hear? Do a fun fact for the Motorhome next?

Current Job: Transporting crazy Harbingers around the countryside

Favorite Color: Black (Also blood red and ocean blue)

Favorite Drink: Diesel (as all Class C motorhome tend to use)

Number of Skylights: 3 - one in the bathroom, one above the main living area, one in the cabover area

Number of Exits: 4 - the driver's side and passenger side doors in the cockpit, the main entrance to the trailer section, and an emergency exit window in the master bedroom

Bedroom Secrets: The bunk beds are available either plain, with a privacy curtain (obviously the superior option here), or with wooden drawers that make them look like a closet as if you're Harry Potter at the Dursley's!

So About Those Brakes: Only the best air brake system including a primary Service Brake, a secondary Parking Brake which doubles as an Emergency Brake (aka the low-air spring brake that comes on automatically during primary brake malfunctions) as well as an Engine Brake to supplement the primary brake. Brake Brake Brack

Family Life: Abandoned and neglected by his original family (And by that I mean he was one of the last floor models available at the RV dealer where Merlin was shopping)

Favorite Karaoke Song: On the Road Again

Cats or Dogs?: They have never run over a cat or dog or person, what are you insinuating?!

Dirty Secret: It's not recommended that you drink from the Fresh Water tanks, so no sipping from the faucets or toilets

First Love/Crush: Merlin, of course! Just the way that they run their hands over the sensitive parts of the steering wheel 😳

You'd Never Expect....: The secret RO! Be wary, they don't have plot armor in the game, however.

#Okay I'm done now #Too bad this didn't come in before April 1st #oks-replies #interactive fiction #oneknightstand #one knight stand

[atmilliways]

Wrong On The Money (17)

part 17 of ?? | 760 words | Teen+

Blackmail fic on Ao3 | on tumblr

Summary:

“Where’d you learn how to do this?” Steve asks, and Eddie answers the question while wondering, Why the hell do you want to know?

17.

There isn’t a lot of time to think for a while. All of them crash in Max’s trailer, away from the windows while they rest, in case the police roll by looking. There’s talking and drawing up battle plans, and crawling through an RV window for his time to shine.

“Where’d you learn how to do this?” Steve asks, and Eddie answers the question while wondering, Why the hell do you want to know?

It all makes his head spin, makes him feel manic and unhinged and wanting to push it just to find out where the boundaries are. He flirts, and for some reason Steve’s reaction is confused when it should by all rights be venomous.

He has some time to himself on the drive to the War Zone. No one interrupts him from zoning out and going back over the past few days. Over the times Steve has gone out of his way to help explain what’s going on, because everyone else goes a mile a minute and is used to this shit, apparently. But the former King of Hawkins High seems to have an eye for when Eddie is foundering and needs a refresher, like whenever anyone talks about some girl named El.

“Everything was way easier. . . . We had this girl. She had superpowers—”

“Superpowers. Yeah, you mentioned her.”

No matter how many times he goes over it, Eddie doesn’t see how it makes any sense. Unless Steve is trying to unsettle him by contrasting how much easier things used to be, and without said powers they are totally screwed? But . . . no, Mr. Team Player wouldn’t do that and risk freaking everyone else out too. Probably. Eddie wants to scream. 

He’s not even going to touch the fact that he’s thinking of him as Steve instead of Harrington now. 

As soon as everyone but Eddie, Dustin, and Lucas has unloaded from the RV for a firearms and bludgeoning object shopping spree, Dustin turns to him. “So you agree now, right?”

This kid. Eddie rubs at his temples, trying to stave off a headache that’s already well set in. “Dude, I’m having a really long weekend. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“About Steve,” Dustin replies, full of freshman boy exasperation and earnestness. “He’s a badass. You agree now, right?”

Somehow, Eddie had thought he would be spared the ‘Steve’s so great, Steve’s so awesome’ talks now that he's trapped in this utterly insane evil apocalypse situation with the guy. But no. He had overestimated Dustin.

“Yeah, well,” Eddie snaps, already wound up tighter than he ever knew he could be and falling back to reflex. “I’m sure it’s real easy to be badass when you know you have daddy’s money to fall back on.”

It’s not the first time he’s said something like that about the rich, popular, snobby crowd. Jeff, Gareth, and Frank all would’ve laughed. But Lucas’s head shoots up across the RV, and Dustin’s face twists up in a weird mixture of disappointment and borderline disgust. 

“Not cool, man.” Dustin puts his hands on his hips—and oh god, Eddie had seen Steve hit that same pose back at Skull Rock. “And you know that Steve’s asshole dad cut him off after he graduated, right?”

Eddie just. Stops. 

Because . . . that can’t be true. 

Steve Harrington wouldn’t let anyone blackmail him with a useless threat for money he doesn’t even have. Even if it were somehow true, you can’t get water out of a stone and you can’t get that much cash out of a guy subsisting on a job at the Family fucking Video. By process of elimination, it’s impossible. 

Right?

He looks at Lucas, who nods in confirmation. “It’s true. That’s why Steve worked at Scoops Ahoy until the mall attack, to like—” the boy does air quotes “—learn some responsibility.”

Some responsibility. Steve, the guy who had been keeping monsters from killing a small group of young nerds for the past two years. Jesus H. Christ. The spring winches even tighter, until something goes twang.

Filing ‘the attack’ away instead of ‘the fire’ for later consideration and hyperventilating, Eddie’s wide eyes snap back to Dustin. The kid scowls back, waiting for an answer.

“How,” Eddie says, sounding like air leaking out of a goddamn balloon, “the fuck would I know that, Henderson?”

This is it, the straw that broke the camel’s back. Dark wizards and death curses and the Vale of Shadows he can handle, but known quantity Steve Harrington turning out to be a complete fucking conundrum is just too much.

#steddie blackmail fic #steddie fic #steddie #stranger things fic #eddie munson #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #so basically everything in this fic (except vecna) is dustin's fault

[kasha-formerlydrabbletastic]

Dearest Eddie

Part 1 /  Part 2 / Bonus / Part 4

Steve Harrington x Wife!Reader

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: Steve and the reader are writing home from the honeymoon.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Fingering. P in V sex. Swearing. Writing out sex scenes for friends.

Your fingers dance over the tops of the postcards as you peruse them, picking out the ones you like, the ones that remind you of the family you left back in Hawkins. You add the stack of your favorites on top of the small basket of souvenirs you've picked out - at least one trinket for everyone. There is no way you're leaving this Houdini Exhibit without something to add to your growing collection of gifts for everyone back home.

Steve stands behind you, his chin resting on your shoulder, as he adds his opinion into the mix.

"Definitely," he says, "El will love it."

"Oh, that one is definitely for Robin."

"That one has Lucas written all over it."

"Joyce and Hop? Hell yeah."

"Honestly? Dustin would make fun of us for the rest of our lives if we got him that."

And so on, until you've got a small collection for your friends and family.

"Anyone we're missing?" you ask, flipping through the postcards one more time.

"Did you get one for your mom?"

"Yes."

"My mom?" he asks quickly before rolling his eyes and swiping his hand through the air as if to brush the thought away. "Forget my mom."

"Eddie?" the pair of you say at the same time.

You turn your attention back to the postcards, looking through them one more time before you come across one with a picture of Houdini himself shackled up and practically naked as he stooped over to accommodate his trappings.

"This one," you say, plucking it from the rest and adding it to your stack. "Something about this picture makes me think of Eddie."

"Couldn't possibly be the chains, could it?" Steve laughs, following you to the checkout lines of the shop.

"It's possible," you reply with a grin.

.

.

You lay face down on the bed in the RV, a soft breeze flowing in from an opened window. The postcards lay scattered before you as you write them out, waiting for Steve to return from his bathroom break to help you finish.

... Mom, I know you'd love the exhibit as much as we did. We hope you're doing well and we love you. See you soon.

"Well," you hear from behind you; Steve shuffles up, bending to play with your toes. "That's certainly something worth looking at."

You grin, knowing precisely what he means; your shorts are a little too short, and your shirt has ridden up your back in the time you've been writing out the missives. You feel his weight on the bed behind you as he leans over, running his fingertips over the bare skin of your lower back. A sultry shiver wiggles through you at his touch as you pull Eddie's postcard from the "to-do" pile, settling it with the blank side up and preparing your pen.

In the next moment, Steve's weight shifts as he stretches out above you, pressing his chest against your shoulder blades and settling himself onto his elbows.

"My pretty girl," he says, his lips brushing your ear. "Who's that one for?"

"Eddie," you reply, your breath starting to labor.

"Perfect." Steve's fingers brush along your forearm as he molds his hand around yours. "I want you to write out everything I'm about to do to you. Everything, baby. Understand?"

You twist to face him as best as you can, your nose brushing his as you meet his eye.

"So," you begin, preparing your pen, "for instance, you're lying on top of me now, right?"

"Right," Steve answers, pressing his lips to your cheek as you turn back to the postcard.

Dearest Eddie, you write in the smallest handwriting you can muster. I hope this finds you well because, as it is, Steve is lying on top of me, and I can feel his cock poking into my ass.

At this the two of you giggle.

"That's it, baby," Steve says, lifting himself from you. "Keep writing."

Looking over your shoulder, you watch as he settles on his knees and pushes your legs apart, his fingers dipping into the waistband of your shorts and tugging down. Before he has a chance to clear your ass, though, he looks up and catches you staring.

"Write, baby. Write everything."

He's gotten up now, Eddie, pulling my shorts down, but he doesn't know -

"Baby!" Steve exclaims. "Where are your panties?"

- that I didn't put underwear on after my shower.

"Must've forgotten them," you tell him nonchalantly, lifting your hips so he can finish pulling them all the way down.

"Fuck, babe," he groans, his hands smoothing over the meat of your ass before he flexes his fingers into the flesh. "God, I love you."

He's grabbing my ass, Munson. Something I know you've been dying to do since high school.

"Ow!" you giggle, carrying on with your writing.

And he just bit the right cheek.

"Lift your hips for me, pretty girl," you hear Steve say, and you comply. "On your knees."

I'm lifting my hips for him now, like he asked me to, on my elbows and knees, ass in the air. I can feel his hands on my thighs, sneaking up until he -

"Ah!"

- touches my clit like the fucking tease he is. Just a little bit, then he dips into my soaking wet cunt. He says I feel warm and silky and so fucking good.

"Ah, Steve," you say, trying to get his attention but failing. "Steve?"

"What, baby?" he says, meeting your eye over your shoulder; he slowly works his fingers in and out of you, a gentle squelching noise dancing through the air.

"I ran out of space - oh, fuck! - on the postcard."

"Don't worry, pretty girl," he replies with a smirk.

Without pulling his hand from you, he reaches for a nearby notebook and hands it to you, his fingers still pressing in and out of you. You open the notebook to a blank page and continue writing there.

God, Eddie, you need to feel this. Well, I mean, your version of this. Steve is so good with his fingers. The first time he fingered me, he had me coming in about two minutes. Had to keep his other hand over my mouth so that anyone passing the classroom we were in couldn't hear me, but fuck, it was so good.

For a moment, you close your eyes, remembering the day that happened; senior year of high school, just weeks before graduation, he had surprised you on your way to Phys Ed, pulling you into an empty classroom. After months of some intense flirting and teasing, he apparently couldn't help himself and locked the door behind him. Before you could fully grasp what was happening, his mouth was on yours, his body pushing against yours until your ass met the teacher's desk. His hands wandered down your body and gripped each of your cheeks to lift you onto the flat surface. He immediately pulled your jeans open and stuck his hand down the front of your pants to glide along the slick that had gathered along your lips.

"Fuck, baby," he murmured against your mouth. "You're so wet for me."

"Well," you'd replied, "you can't just write me a note asking me out on a date in math class and not have me swooning the moment I read it."

He laughed against your lips. "That got you going?"

"It's possible I've been thinking about how that date would end ever since."

"You mean just like this?"

He curled his fingers into you, finding your g-spot at once, and you moaned into his mouth.

"Shh," he said, laying his palm over your mouth. "Gotta be quiet, you dirty girl."

Needless to say, you didn't make it to Phys Ed that day.

"Keep writing, babe," he reminds you in the present, noticing your distraction.

"Right..." you sigh as he finds your g-spot once more. "Ah, fuck!"

Eddie, he knows exactly what to do, exactly how to move his fingers inside me to drive me up the wall. Right now, his fingers curl inside me, and I'm just melting into him. Fuck, if only you could see this. If only you could feel it.

"Good job, my pretty girl," Steve says.

You struggle to stay focused as soon as he presses against your clit, circling the nerve with precision pressure.

I can feel my whole body tingling, from my head to my toes. My cunt is soaking, just eating his fingers up as he works me toward coming.

Your handwriting has gotten a little wobbly from the motion as Steve picks up speed.

He says he's gonna make me come, that I'm such a good girl. Fuck, Eddie, he wants me to tell you how great my pussy looks, all full of his fingers and wetter than ever. He says if writing this out to you makes me this hot, then what would it be like if you were actually here with us?

"So close..." you murmur. "Steve..."

"I know, baby," he replies, keeping steady. "I can feel it coming."

You moan against the mattress before picking up your head.

He's got me so close, Eddie. My entire body burns with it, my legs are shaky, and I'm dying to feel his cock inside me. It's just like you imagined it, I bet. How many times have you pictured us like this? How many times have you -

Your hand slips as your orgasm closes in on you, dragging the pen across the page before you let go of it and grip the sheets below you.

"That's it, my pretty girl," Steve says. "Come for me, baby."

And you do; you gasp and tense, feeling the wave of pleasure crashing through your body, your cunt pulsing around his fingers as he guides you through your high.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he says, watching your body seize under him, pressing his lips along your spine.

You're panting into the mattress, flattening out as soon as your orgasm begins to fade. Picking up your pen, you continue your letter to Eddie.

Oops. Sort of dropped the pen there. Might've dropped my ability to write, too, because fuck that was a good orgasm. I can hear Steve behind me, licking his fingers like he just had KFC. He's even humming through it all, the horn dog.

He got up, though, just for a moment and all I want is to feel his cock inside me. I want him to fuck me into oblivion and I want to describe every moment to you. I think he's really thinking about this threesome thing with you. It was his idea for me to write this out to you anyway.

"Got it, baby" you hear Steve say from the other side of the RV.

Glancing over your shoulder, you see him, condom in hand and a tent in his pants. With a smile, you flip all the way around, sitting up and bringing the notebook with you.

You should see the Cheshire cat smile he's got on right now, Eds. The one he's always got on after he makes me come. Thinks he's so good at everything, doesn't he?

You fix your eyes on your husband as he drops his pants, and you tut.

"Steven," you scold. "Where are your underwear?"

He shrugs, smirking. "Must've forgotten them."

Eddie. He's not wearing underwear either. He just pulled his pants off and NOTHING. Nothing but his gorgeous dick. If only you could see it. It's hard as a fucking rock and massive - that thing splits me in half all the time. We've been fucking since high school and his dick still scares me sometimes. Like, is he going to break my jaw if I blow him? Is he going to rip my pussy open?

He's a cocky fucker, I'll tell you. But you already knew that. He's got his hand around his dick, watching me write this and -

Steve takes the pen with his other hand, writing "Hi, Eds" on the paper.

"On your front again, baby," he tells you as he slides the condom onto the head of his cock. "Ass up, like you just had it."

You follow the direction, anticipating the stretch of him and describing to Eddie the situation.

I'm on my elbows and knees again, Eds. Steve is rubbing his hands down my back and over my ass, squeezing and scratching and teasing. He likes to tease, I’ve mentioned that before. He will literally do anything at all except stick his dick in me when I want him to. He’s so mean.

“I’m so mean, eh?” he chuckles. 

You didn’t mean to say that part out loud. 

“Yeah, you’re mean,” you answer, wiggling your ass at him. “Just put it in already!”

“If that’s what you want, babe.”

He presses his lips to your spine, trailing kisses down, down, down, until he reaches the top of your bum. He gives your cheeks a good squeeze as he straightens up, just before he slides his cock along your slick.

Still. Teasing. Big old fucking tease. I ask him to put his dick in me and what does he do? He puts it ALMOST inside me. I can feel the head just gliding along, bumping my clit every so often. Is it too much to ask to be fucked stupid? Eddie, I’m sure you wouldn’t have to be told twice to put it in me.

That part you did mean to say aloud. 

“Oh, really?” Steve says, immediately sliding his dick right into you.

“Ah, fuck!” 

As usual, the stretch burns in the best way, your pussy full of Steve’s cock. He bottoms out, his fingers digging into your hips as he grabs you and holds you still.

“Fucking hell, baby,” he pants. “Oh my god, you feel so good.”

“Please, Steve,” you whine, your hand finding his and holding it. “Please, please, please fuck me.”

He pulls out until you’re empty, then slides back in with a buck of his hips. 

Fuck, he’s inside me now, Eds. His dick was made by angels, I swear to god. He’s slowly pulling out, then pushing back in. His grip on me is tight, holding my hips like if he lets go I’ll float away. He’s picking up speed, though, his hips slamming into my ass with - 

Steve gets lost in the feel of you and, thus, you lose your grip on the pen in your hand; you moan into the mattress as Steve fucks you, your fingers tangling into the sheets the moment his hand comes around to touch your clit. His grunts and groans filter into your ears, fueling the fire building in your core. 

“Fuck,” you sigh, meeting his thrusts with some of your own, chasing the high. “Oh, god, Steve!”

“God, baby,” Steve growls, “come on, come for me.”

Within moments, your climax crashes through your body, and you cry out. Unintelligible words fall from your lips as Steve slams his hips against your ass, shortly followed by a string of unintelligible words of his own. His hips then stutter, his thighs shaking against yours with his efforts as he comes.

The pair of you collapse to the mattress, Steve sliding to your side from the top of you. 

“I love you so much,” he says, pressing kisses to your shoulder.

“And I love you,” you reply.

“How’d the writing go?”

You return your attention to the abandoned letter, realizing you left it mid-sentence.

“Oh,” you giggle.

“Did you want to finish it?”

With a smirk, that’s exactly what you do.

Sorry, Eds. Got distracted. Anyway, we’ll see you when we get home. We love you.

“That’s how you’re ending that?” Steve exclaims as you giggle more. “And you say I’m a tease, Jesus.”

“We’ll tell him the rest when we get home.”

.

.

Standing at the mailbox the next morning, you and Steve drop in the post cards. The envelope you hold in your hand, however, is met with a moment of hesitation.

“If we send this,” you say, looking Steve in the eye, “there’s no turning back from it. You know that, right? Eddie will officially be, at the very least, indirectly involved in our sex life. Is this something we can live with?”

Steve eyes the envelope, sealed, addressed, stamped, and ready to go. 

“Like... we’ve already gotten this far with it,” Steve says.

“So is that a yes?”

“It’s not a no.”

“But it’s also not a yes.”

“He’s gonna want that threesome.”

You grin, laughing as you glance up at the sunny sky.

“Don’t act like you don’t want it, too,” you say.

Steve tries to hide his smile, pushing his hand in your face playfully as he laughs.

“Shut up,” he says. “You perv.”

“You’re the perv,” you laugh. “Do we send it or not?”

You look at Steve, watching as his eyes drop to your hand, holding it in his as he pulls you just a little closer. Your heart pounds as the gears in his head grind, and only more so when it seems like he has reached a decision. He looks up, studying your face as a smile curls his lips.

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader smut #stranger things #stranger things smut

[candyheartedchy]

A Muse (Part 1)

Summary: When a artist down on her luck shows up in Gravity Falls, she soon finds herself awaking what she believes to be a muse.

Word Count: 2,686

Leaves rustled in the autumn air as a RV rode down a dirt path, snapping branches and sticks underneath it’s tires as it pulled off into a little clear opening. The vehicle soon came to a stop before the door opened and a auburn haired woman stepped out, carrying a large, crinkled road map. The cold breeze nipped at the woman’s skin, causing her to shiver in her sweater as she stood before a wooden shack, looking lost.

Inside the Mystery Shack, a wavy, sandy brown haired woman hummed to herself as she stocked the clothing rack with shirts. A large, heavyweight man wearing a suit soon walked over.

“Oh, color coordinated! Nice!”

“I thought it would catch the customer’s attention more.”

The man smiled, “It makes me want to get one of every color, and I already do!” he then paused, “You know, speaking catching customers’ attention, we haven’t had a single person come in today.”

“It’s probably just a slow day. We get those sometimes.”

“I know. I’m just hope people aren’t growing tired of this place, you know? Like what if I’m not cut out for this and I can’t bring in people anymore. And lose the shack because I can’t pay the rent? What if I let Stan down!?” the man began to panic until his face was grabbed, being forced to stop and look down at the woman.

“Soos, you been doing a wonderful job running this place. You would never let Stan down. Why do you think he put you in charged? He believed in you, just as much as I do. You just have to believe in yourself.” she smiled, squishing Soos’ face a bit.

Soos sighs before smiling back, “You’re right Melody. Stan trusted me with the shack for a reason. I’m just being a glummy-gus.“

Melody then pulled Soos down and kissed him on the forehead before returning back to her work. Soos smiled at her, brows lowered as he stared off, still uncertain.

Just then, the shack’s door open. Stepping inside was the RV driver.

“Hey, um, do you know the way into town, I’m kinda lost?” the woman asked, alerting the two.

“To get into town? Absolutely! Here, let me get you a map.”

Following the man over to the front desk, the woman kept getting distracted by the shop’s decorations. Her eyes keep meeting strange and unfamiliar creatures and items. From regular gift shop merchandise to messily put together taxidermy creatures and statues. All feeling like they were watching her.

Grabbing a map of the town, Soos handed it over, “So, what brings you to Gravity Falls? Taking a detour?”

The woman looked off in the distance, almost dramatically, “Artistic inspiration.”

“Oh, your an artist? That’s cool. What kind of stuff do you make?”

“Anything really. Though I dealing artist block right now... Been traveling all over to find something to kickstart my creative juices, but nothing worked so far.” the woman frowned, “And I feel like I’m running out of places.”

“Luckily for you, Gravity Falls is filled with a lot of inspiring people and landmarks! I recommend stopping by Greasy’s Diner first if you’re hungry. Best pancakes around!“

“Well, I do have to get some supplies in town anyway, so maybe I’ll stop by.”

“Great! Oh, and once you see the water tower, you’ll know you made it.”

“Thank you. You both have a lovely day.” The woman waved before exiting the shack.

“No problem, dude!” Soos waved back.

Diving into town, the woman glanced around, looking for a diner of some sort until she spotted a log shaped building. She peeked at the town map, seeing it as one of the town’s popular landmarks. She looked back out the window.

“This must be it.”

Stepping inside the diner, the woman glanced around, noticing how crowded the place was as talking and chattering filled the air.

“Maybe I’ll come back later…” she told herself, turning before a manicured hand grabbed her shoulder.

“If you’re worried about seating, there’s a booth in the back if you want it.” a older woman with a lazy eye smiled warmly at her.

“Oh, that’s okay, uh,” the woman glanced at the name tag, “Susan, I was just curious.” she stated before her stomach growled.

“Sounds like you could use something to eat, come, sit and relax! I’ll get you a menu!” Susan walked the woman over to the back, motioning her to sit, “Here you go, sweetie, what would you like to drink while you look over the specials?”

“Do you have coffee?

“Sure we do! Dark or regular.”

“Dark is fine.”

“So, what brings you here?”

“I was told by… Soos, that this place have the best pancakes around.”

“He did!? I’m guessing you want pancakes then?”

“Yes, if that’s okay?”

Susan laughs, “So polite! Of course it’s okay! Let me get you that coffee while you wait for those pancakes.”

“Thank you.”

After getting her coffee, adding a few packets of sugar into it, her pancakes finally arrived. As the woman began to eat, she couldn’t help but watched the other customers in the diner. They were all a butch of unusual looking folks, but they seem happy. She then stared out the window, taking a sip of her coffee, deep in thought.

“So, how are you liking everything so far?” Susan asked, “Need more coffee?”

“I’m good thank you. I do however have a question though.”

“Ask away!”

“Do you know any places around her that, well, inspires a person?”

“Inspire, like how?”

“To make someone want to paint or something?“

“I’m not much of a painter, but I do find the woods to be peaceful this time of the year. With all those fall colors and all.” Susan smiles, “I do however scrapbook about my cats, they’re are my inspirations. You just need to find something that’s yours.”

“Trust me Susan, I been trying.” the artist said before feeling the older woman pat her shoulder.

“I’m sure it’ll come to you when you least expect it.”

The woman sighs, “I hope so.”

Inside the RV, back in the woods, a few bags sat on a dinette table as the woman began unpacking them from her trip into town. Stacking a few cans into her small pantry, the artist dropped one of the cans as it rolled across the floor. Following after the can to pick it up, the woman mindlessly looks out her window, spotting a small face pressed against the glass. Frighten by this, the woman screamed. Grabbing a skillet, the woman rushed outside, scanning the area.

“What do you want?!” she screamed, stepping around, not realizing a group of gnomes were sneaking into her RV, walking out with random items.

Before they could finish their theft, one of the gnomes got hit with the pan, getting knocked out as they all began to scatter, dropping the woman’s stuff to the dirt.

“That’s right, y’all better run, you little thieves!”

The gnomes ran off, screaming as they left the woman alone. Picking up her stuff, the woman stiffen as she heard a groan. The gnome, who she hit before started to sit up, rubbing his head in pain from the impact of the skillet until yelping at the sight of the woman towering over him with the pan in her hand.

“You’re not gonna hit me with that again, are you!”

“Maybe.” the woman glared.

“Look, I can explain! Winter is coming soon. We saw you show up and figured you had food. We were desperate!”

“By also stealing my toaster and radio?”

“Hey, we have to jam out while heating up the food!”

Mixed with emotions, the woman sighed before speaking, “Look, if y’all need some food, I guess I could spare some. But only the food!”

The gnome’s eyes widen hearing this, causing a few more little men to walk out, “Really? You’ll do that for us? Even though we try to steal from you?”

“I know about being short on food... I live in a RV… Just tell me what y’all need.”

Making up a few bags full of food, the woman watched as the gnomes walked off into the forest, happily.

“Thank you kindly, friend.” the younger, brown haired gnome tipped his pointy hat.

“No problem. Sorry about the pan in the face.”

“It’s okay. I think I only lost one tooth.” he stated, smiling as he revealed a gap.

The artist laughs, watching the gnome then walk way with his group, waving goodbye.

“Thanks again.”

The woman waved back before throwing her hands on her hips, “No one is gonna to believe this… but this could make a great painting!”

Setting up her easel and paint, the woman stared at the canvass, determined.

“Okay, there’s no way I can’t paint anything now after all of that.” she smiled.

A hour past as the setting sun soon made its way across the land. The woman tapped her paintbrush along the side of the easel, frustrated before she angrily threw her brush.

“I CAN’T STAND THIS! I literally just meet mystical creatures and I still can’t get inspired!” the artist screamed before kicking her easel over and walked off into the woods.

Walking down a path, the woman stared at the ground, heartbroken, “It’s been months. What if I never create again? Can I even call myself a artist anymore?” she asked before a raindrop hit her nose.

Out of nowhere, it began to downpour, causing the woman to panic, looking for shelter. She started to run, glancing around for a familiar path, trying to get back to her RV. But it got darker. And she was lost.

“Where’s the RV?!”

Lightning started to flash across the sky, causing the woman to jump as thunder followed. She kept running, barely seeing where she was going until she slipped, tumbling down a cliffside, getting covered in mud. Hitting the bottom, hard, the woman laid there in pain, dizzy and confused before pushing herself up. Drenched, the woman looked up before spotting a cave nearby. The artist quickly got to her feet, almost struggling to stand as she ran toward it. Once inside, safe from the storm, the woman started shivering from the cold, dripping wet as she watched lightning light up the sky a few times. Walking further into the cave, the woman pulled out her phone and turned on the flashlight before realizing how much deeper the cave was. She stared off into the darkness before her, feeling almost pulled in by it. Without thinking, the woman began to towards it, making her way deeper into the cave.

The further she walked, the further the sound of the storm faded behind her as the new sound of water dripping filled her ears as it echoed. Glancing around, the woman was hoping to find something, anything, until she soon found herself surrounded by cave drawings. Amazed by this, the woman began to take pictures of them on her phone, light flashings a few times after each click.

“Theses are incredible! So much symbolism!” the woman smiled, panning the camera phone around before freezing.

Spread out on the cave wall was a mural of some sort, paintings of what appeared to look like people worshiping a triangle.

“Wow!” she snapped a picture.

Water dripped from the trees above as the sky cleared and stars were now shown above. It finally stopped raining. Sloshing through the wet ground, the woman finally made it to her RV, cold and dirty. After washing herself and getting in her pajamas for the night, the woman laid in her bed, scrolling through the images off the cave drawings from before.

“I can’t believe these were just hidden down there?” she said, scrolling some more before her heart skipped a beat at the image of the triangle again.

Something about it intrigued her. She never seen anything like it. The woman then squinted at her phone, zooming in the image a bit as she realized there was also some words taken along with it as well. A inscription of some sort. Unknowingly, the woman read them out loud.

Nothing.

The woman then yawned, placing her phone down before nuzzling up under the covers, laying on her side.

“Maybe those cave drawings will inspire me.” she mumbled, closing her eyes, feeling herself drift off to sleep.

The sounds of leaves rustled as the woman ran, being chased by the darkness engulfing her surroundings. Ducking between a few trees, the woman shed silent tears, terrified as millions of hands reached out, grabbing at her. Dodging a few of the hands, the woman tripped, hitting the dirt before looking over her shoulder and screamed until a bright light blinded her. Shielding her eyes, the woman peeked over to see the darkness fading away, almost in pain. Relieved, the woman clenched at her chest, catching her breath before turning back to the light. It was yellow and shaped as a triangle.

Eyes slowly adjusting to the glowing being before her, the woman lightly gasped. It was a triangle all right, but with one eye. She also noticed the top hat and bow tie it was wearing.

“That was close, huh?” it’s voice rang, almost alluring her.

The woman was stunned silent, staring up at the stranger in awe.

“You’re from the painting.”

“And you’re an artist down on her luck! The name’s Bill.”

Confused by the being, the woman raised an heavy brow, “What are you?”

“I’m a muse!”

The artist looked up and down at the floating triangle, almost questioning this, “A muse?“

“Yep and I’m here to help!” Bill threw out his arms.

“Help?”

“Of course! Don’t want that creative mind of yours going to waste, now do we?“

The artist brushed back her loose hair, almost overwhelmed, “You’re really going to help me?” she laughs a little in pain, “You don’t know how long it’s been since I created something. I don’t even know if I’m a artist anymore.”

“Of course your an artist, Chy, you just need to find that spark again.”

The woman froze at the name, “You called me Chy?”

“That is your nickname, right?”

“Yeah, but… I haven’t told anyone about it… at least not here.”

“That’s because I know everything about you. Your the youngest out of six. You’re scared to death of wasting your true potential. And your first crush was a cartoon character.”

The woman waved at the triangle in panic, shushing him, “Shhhh!”

“What, you don’t think other artist haven’t as well?”

“Look, Bill, you said you could help me? How?”

Bill paused for a second, his eye almost scanning the woman, “I could make your artist block disappear forever, just like that,” he snapped his fingers, “Give you endless creativity and inspiration to your heart’s desires. And you give me something in return.”

“Like what?”

“I’m looking for someone to expand my vision. A person who is can see the big picture and eager to learn. And I think that’s person is you.”

“Me, why?”

“You seem like a pretty interesting person. Traveling all over just to get inspiration? Seems you know what you want and determined to get it no matter what.“

The artist rubbed at her arm, “I guess so.”

Bill wrapped his arm around the woman, sly almost, “I wouldn’t have reveal myself to you if you weren’t, would I? So, lets make a deal?”

The triangle held out and hand as it was suddenly engulfed if blue fire.

Seeing this, the woman stiffen, almost entranced by the flame.

“Will it hurt?” the woman winced a little.

“Only if you want it too.”

Looking up to met Bill’s eye, the woman gulps, hesitate.

“I don’t know… We just met and…”

“Look, toots, I’m not asking for your soul or anything,” Bill chuckled saying this, “I just need a helping hand. I help you, you help me. Seems like a solid deal if you ask me.”

Chy inhaled, nervously reaching out and grabbed Bill’s hand as the fire engulfed her hand as well.

“It’s a deal.”

#this is kinda long… and not the best… but i had fun writing and that’s all that matters! #❤️ chypher ❤️ #self ship #self insert #self ship fic

[sky-neverending]

ok so im going through all my google docs rn and making a list of the premises. (see list below). based on the premise of the fic, pick a number and put it in my ask box, and i’ll share what i’ve written for it so far, no matter how long or short it is!

1. Stranger Things Modern AU

2. Stranger Things Chatfic

3. Steddie 7 minutes in heaven

4. The Party (kids) as the 5 stages of grief

5. Post Vecna, Dustin’s mom falls ill and Steve takes him in

6. part 3 of my flowers of 86 series, Steddie and some of the kids go on a road trip in an RV (direct follow up to Roadside Roses)

7. Steddie valentine’s day date, friends to lovers

8. Steve adopts Dustin

9. Literally just Steve admiring things about Eddie and crushing on him hard

10. Steddie They Both Die At The End AU

11. heartstopper x hunger games au

12. Steddie Summer Camp AU

13. Steddie, platonic stobin, and familial dustin & steve soulmate au (steve has three soulmarks)

14. Wylan finds a note from his dad- angst

15. Will Byers angst, Byler

16. Steddie unhappy ending, hospital room romance

17. Steddie childhood friends AU

18. Young Royals Prince Simon AU

19. The Party goes to the beach

20. Malec secret relationship

21. Wesper coffee shop AU

22. Crows roommates AU

23. Wylan and Kaz friendship, hurt/comfort

24. Kanej letters

25. azicrow watches call me by your name

26. chapter 2 of my stranger things x soc crossover

27. crowley angst

None of these are complete! most of them are only a handful of words, but I thought if i shared them maybe it would make me want to work on some of them! so don’t be afraid to put a number in my ask box!!

#stranger things #steddie #six of crows #shadow and bone netflix #the crows #malec #wesper #ineffable husbands #azicrow #stranger things fanfic #ask box #pick a number

[theaceofarrows]

Someone help I got the random idea for a Ninjago × Ben 10 au involving the following⬇

Lloyd is Ben obviously (he keeps the green as a bonus-)

Either Morro aka Lloyd's emo cousin is Gwen or Harumi aka Lloyd's adopted emo sister is Gwen

Whoever isn't Gwen is Kevin Leven

Wu is Max (obviously)

Garmadon is maybe Vilgax, maybe not

Wu and Garmadon are half alien

The Elemental Masters are the Plumbers

Nya and the original 4 ninja are plumbers kids that Wu picks up along the way during the summer trip after Lloyd gets the omnitrix

Cole gets picked up when they stop near Cole's summer dance camp that his dad sent him to

After Cole helps out with the local alien problem Wu convenes him to come along for the ride (while in typical Lloyd fashion vaguely implies that he knew Liliy)

Jay joins when the RV breakdown in the dessart and they go to the Walker junk yard

The junk yard gets attacked by aliens and after that like Cole Jay comes along for the ride because he's never far from the junk yard before

Lloyd stars having issues with the Omnitrix at one point and Wu decides to try there like with Dr. Julien, a plumber scientist that specializes in intergalactic machinery

They find Dr. Julien and meet his son Zane who turns out to have visions of future battles to come

After working things out with the Omnitrix Dr. Julien conveniences Zane that he should go with Lloyd and co. so that he gain real life experience away from him

Zane brings along his robo falcon

While passing through Ignacia Wu seeks out his old friends Ray and Maya after years of silence but instead finds Kai and Nya working their old blacksmith shop

After that Wu explains to Kai and Nya how he knows they're parents from being plumbers and that he suspects that they might have been taken by Vilgax

Kai reluctantly agrees to go with the after Nya insists that they have nothing better to do and that they might find they're parents

Kai does not believe in any type of aliens and thinks that Wu is a little nuts at first

Nya, Jay and Jay spend hours studying the Omnitrix and making theories. Jay goes wild making

Eventually everyone freaks out (expect Wu-) when they all start having different powers show up along the way earth, fire, ice, lighting water etc

Whoever ends up as who Morro and Harumi get Gwen's and Kevin's powers

It's later reviled that they all have some degree of alien DNA

Zane is either still a Nindroid or is a cyborg made with earth and alien tech

The Omnitrix makes Lloyd's eyes turn a glowy neon green (and bc he's part alien-)

Jay and Cole name Lloyd's alien forms

The serpentine are a group of aliens that they fought and are now frienemies they keep running into. Skales is so done

Misako is a part time archeologist and former plumber

Lloyd is still the youngest at 10, Cole and Zane are 16, Kai Jay and Morro are 15, Nya is 14 and Harumi is 13

Do with this as you like. This is what I got so far, might add more to it

#lloyd garmadon #ninjago lloyd #morro wu #ninjago morro #ninjago harumi #cole brookstone #ninjago cole #jay walker #ninjago jay #zane julien #ninjago zane #kai smith #ninjago kai #nya smith #ninjago nya #ninjago wu #ninjago #ninjago au #green cousins #disaster cousins #ben 10 #ben 10 au #this has been floating around in my head for days #sorry for all the typos and terrible grammar

[crestfallercanyon]

Weekly Tag Wednesdayyyyyyy ✨

This week’s tag game is a hodgepodge of questions from the group, which is such a cute idea!! Thanks for tagging me @jrooc — let’s hop to it

🔠 Name: crest

🌀How do you pronounce your own Tumblr handle in your head? I pronounce it how it sounds — I’m shit at phonetics, here’s my best attempt lol: ck-rest fall-ur

🪟 When you look out the window right now what do you see? Gray skies, a few government buildings, and a very pretty garden actually.

💼 What is the most unusual profession someone in your family was in? An entire side of my family races motor vehicles like motorcycles and funny cars for a living (as well as worked in shops to fix those vehicles) I spent many of my summers at racetracks and in RVs watching them.

🎨 What hobby were you really into as a kid? Reading. Theater. Chalk drawing as a young child.

🔍 First autofill google result when you type ‘How can I…?’

“How can I watch ‘Quiet on Set’” which I don’t know what that means because as far as I know, Quiet on Set is a (great) song by Remi Wolf

🎶 If you were the main character in a sitcom, what song would be playing during the opening credits? Trying to keep with like sort of sitcom-y vibes of having like a consistently “active” song (most sitcoms don’t have parts to their songs where the instruments aren’t consistently playing — i.e. they don’t back off for things like choruses or bridges) I would say either Australia by The Shins or Shuffle by Bombay Bicycle Club

🎬 What’s the last movie you watched? Did you enjoy it? What genre is it? Rogue One, I did! And it was Sci Fi (Star Wars Universe)

🎥 What is your favourite movie genre?

Mines also not a genre — I love like 80s-90s movies, they’re so fun. I like most movies if I’m honest — bad or good can be fun. I tend not to delve into horror that often unless it’s coupled with something else (like Alien is a sci fi horror and Sigourney Weaver as Ripley will be my forever crush)

What movie would you recommend? (I still need to see Garden State, Ive heard good things!!). Mine are Life as a House and Little Miss Sunshine (and so many more but we’ll stick to those!)

👯‍♂️ Do your IRL humans know about your fandom life? If you’re a creator, do they know you create?

One does. She knows I read and write, and knows I have written at least one fic for most of my fandoms. And I guess my brother knows I write one particular fanfic but that’s it.

🚣🏼‍♀️If you could do one activity with your pocket/fandom friends what would it be?

I also vote game night I think that’d be a lot of fun. Or like a bonfire night where we make s’mores and hang out. That’d be lovely.

Here are some no pressure tags! @mmmichyyy , @darlingian , @michellemisfit , @callivich , @mybrainismelted

#weekly tag Wednesday #how is it only wednesday #also anyone else who wants to play can!

[longhairedwriter]

just what I needed - part one

in which the girl of steve harrington’s dreams visits hawkins and their worlds collide.

steve harrington x original female character

(if you would like an 'x reader' version of this story please let me know! I am more than happy to write it that way!)

summary: as he tries to recover (again) from his nancy-induced heartbreak, steve meets ginger, a pregnant girl his age who is visiting hawkins to help her grandparents move out of town.

(set in the canon stranger things universe and timeline, after the events of season 4. also this is meant to be a multi-chapter story so it's a bit of a slow burn, but I promise it'll pick up in part two.)

content warnings: pregnancy, mentions of sex/sexual acts (in relation to pregnancy/conceiving), steve having mommy/daddy issues, minor use of explicit language (but nothing major that I can think of), please lmk if you find any more that should be mentioned.

word count: about 3.9k-ish (this is so long I'm sorry)

author’s note: so this is a concept I’ve been thinking of and wanting to write for awhile but I wasn’t really sure what to do with it/if people would want to read it (this is my first time posting writing/a fanfic on tumblr). I mainly write screenplays so this was a bit of a change for me, but I had the absolute best time working on it! I'm a bit nervous to post this just because it's my first time posting writing on here, but I really really hope you enjoy it. please let me know your thoughts and tell me if you’d like to read more of this story (I was planning on making it three or four parts total maybe if people are interested in reading it). your feedback is important and much appreciated! thank you so much for reading! <3

--

steve harrington was in a pickle— not that he hadn't been in this exact same pickle before. he's been pining over nancy wheeler (again) because, as he’s put it about a hundred times to his friends robin and dustin, she was just one of a kind. steve was particularly heartbroken this time around though, as he had recently revealed his deepest, darkest secret to nancy while they were on the brink of death together; he told her he wanted to have six children with her. six. children. with her. her response was more than disappointing for steve— she reconciled with her boyfriend right in front of him, as if she were rubbing it in his face that she loved jonathan and not him. never him. just as he thought he finally had another shot with her, that he was maybe finally good enough for her, reality hit and his RV dream came crashing down around him, the girl he so badly wanted to share it with leaving him to pick up all the pieces. steve was, to put it plainly, absolutely heartbroken. heartbroken and lonely. he had even stopped bothering to ask any of the girls who came into family video to go out, because every date just left him feeling lonelier than he did before. and he didn’t go off to college like he thought he should have, so he was stuck in this small, haunted town until further notice. he had his friends, of course— robin and the kids— but they would all grow up and graduate and, he figured, leave town someday much too soon, leaving him behind. but on a crisp tuesday in september of 1986, when he least expected it, things began to look up for steve harrington.

__

“ginger, honey, hurry up— we’re leaving,” was the last thing twenty-year old ginger rodgers (a funny coincidence of a name that she never quite forgave her parents for) heard before strapping into the backseat of her mother’s mercedes. she and her parents were headed to hawkins, indiana to help (but it was really more like force) ginger’s grandparents move, because— as her parents kept saying— the town just isn’t safe anymore and isn’t what it used to be. after a tragic fire at a shopping mall and a freak earthquake, the midwestern town was hardly the same quaint dwelling that ginger’s parents had grown up in. as for her own childhood, ginger’s upbringing was pretty white picket fence— full of spring break trips to disneyland, carefully curated christmas card photos, and backyard barbeques— but she had since grown apart from her dear mother and father due to, as they liked to put it, her challenging lifestyle choices. in other words, ginger had fallen pregnant. it was a pretty standard college fairy tale: her boyfriend (who wasn’t even really her boyfriend, they’d just gone on a few dates, but she had benevolently insisted to her parents that he was her boyfriend when recounting the story) had failed to succeed at the apparently tried-and-true pull out method, leaving ginger to miss her period, throw up in the dorm bathrooms, and scurry off to the pharmacy around the block to discreetly buy a box of pregnancy tests (she made sure no one from any of her classes was in the store at the same time, just incase they wanted to sneak a peek at her shameful purchase). when the dreaded little pink plus sign menacingly appeared on the test stick as she sat anxiously on the toilet the week before finals, ginger knew her life would never be the same. she didn’t tell her not-boyfriend before leaving for winter break, never to return to campus in the new year. after a holiday spent in silence with her bewildered parents, who couldn’t seem to understand how their baby girl had gone off to college just a few months prior and come back to them with child, ginger opted not to go back to school for the time being. she would stay in her hometown and find a job, as at the time, her parents seemed to have slightly shunned her, and she didn’t expect them to help with the costs that this lovely new adventure would bring (even though they could definitely afford it). but despite the freshly minted cracks in their relationship, when ginger’s parents told her about their impending trip to hawkins to help her mother’s parents leave the apparently scorned town, she jumped at the chance to escape her currently mundane reality of retail work nightmares and weird stares from neighbors she’d grown up with. a change of scenery will do you good, her father had said when she inquired about the trip. a change of scenery, it would turn out, was just what ginger needed.

--

part one

“honey, here, why don’t you stop lifting things like I keep telling you and organize these,” ginger’s mother gestured to a disorganized stack of boxes that was really starting to pile up at the bottom of the stairs. helping her grandparents move was proving to be more challenging than ginger had initially expected— sure, she was pregnant, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t lift a measly box.

they were currently setting up for a yard sale (ginger’s grandmother had refused to let them call it an estate sale because that’s for old people) and despite her family’s badgering about how she shouldn’t be lifting anything too heavy and should just leave the big boxes for dad and that neighbor boy and his little friends who were coming by to help later, ginger felt useless. she had come all this way to help her grandparents move, and they wouldn’t even let her lift anything. never in her life had ginger wanted to carry a box so badly, so when her mother quickly became occupied with another yard sale matter, she decided to pick up a box that was probably too big and carry it out to the yard. as she carefully made her way outside, walking slowly but surely, she was caught red handed by an unfamiliar voice.

“hey, do you need help?”

ginger could barley see over the humungous box that was nearly toppling out of her arms, but from what she could see, the voice belonged to a handsome young man who looked to be about her age. he approached her, his legs making long strides, his long— and beautiful, ginger mentally noted— hair flopping with every step he took. she had almost forgotten about the box that was weighing down her arms as he came closer.

“oh, no thanks, I got it.” she politely turned him down as she placed the box down by the other yard sale stuff, hoping it seemed like she had carried the box with ease (it hadn't).

steve was finally able to get a good look at ginger without the giant box in the way, and his eyes almost widened as he took in the sight of her pregnant belly that protruded through her sweater— how old was she? he had thought that she was probably somewhere around his age based on her face (which, he thought, was unmeasurably beautiful) but was she older? and where was her husband? and why didn't dustin tell him that he had such a gorgeous neighbor? ginger’s sweet voice, which steve had decided in that moment was unforgettable, interrupted his frantic train of thought:

“thank you for the offer though,” she said as she herself got a good look at him. he really was beautiful to look at, she thought, especially his hair. she thought about running her fingers through it, wondering what it might feel like if it touched her skin.

“I’m steve— I’m dustin’s friend. I guess he isn't here yet but he said his neighbors needed some help moving stuff for a yard sale today, and I thought maybe there would be some things that could be useful for the earthquake relief center. I’m guessing… you’re the neighbor?” he cut himself off, hoping he wasn’t rambling too much, not wanting her to know that she was making him nervous.

ginger was too preoccupied with her own spiraling thoughts to notice, however. wasn’t dustin in high school? why was his friend so… manly? where were the little friends her mother had mentioned earlier?

“oh, um, this is actually my grandparents’ house— I don’t live here. I’m just in town to help them move. I’m ginger, by the way,” she formally introduced herself as she stuck her hand out to him. he graciously took it, trying not to worry too much about whether his palms were sweaty or not.

“nice to meet you. how can I help?”

“well, there are a ton more boxes inside that I actually probably can’t lift myself. here, follow me.” she led him through the front door and into the house. "thank you so much for helping out, that's really nice of you. I didn't realize how nice people were here," she turned back to look at him, smiling. steve wanted to look at her smile for the rest of his life. he hadn't felt this way about anyone in awhile, especially not after knowing them for less than five minutes.

"oh, it's really no problem. dustin loves your grandma, and any friend of that dingus is a friend of mine, apparently." shit, he'd just referred to a child-- it was dustin, but still a child none the less-- as a dingus without even thinking. he prayed that she wouldn't hate him. to steve's utmost delight, however, his comment had made ginger crack up with laughter. he decided it was his new favorite sound. maybe he should record her laugh on tape incase vecna decided to come for him next.

now high off her laughter, steve continued to trail behind ginger as she made her way to the pile of boxes by the stairs, which had only grown since she last saw it.

"so this is all yard sale stuff. but if you'd like to see if there's anything you could take to the relief center first, please, be my guest." she gestured towards the boxes. "what kind of things do they need over there?" she knelt down, starting to shuffle through one of the boxes.

just as steve was about to answer, ginger's mother waltzed down the stairs, carrying even more things in her arms. her eyebrow quirked when she noticed steve.

"dustin?"

"oh, no, mom, this is steve. he's dustin's friend, he came to help us out. isn't that so nice?" ginger quickly corrected her mother before steve had a chance to say anything, which was probably a good thing because his brain felt like it was short circuiting at the sound of her voice saying his name. he might not ever be able to get over it, he thought.

"that is very nice. thank you steve!" ginger's mother beamed at him.

"it's no problem at all. it's nice to meet you."

"likewise." she smiled as she added more unwanted things to the yard sale pile. "did your parents grow up here? I swear you look just like someone I went to school with... is your last name harrington?"

"guilty as charged." steve smiled awkwardly, hoping he didn't look as uncomfortable as he felt at the mention of his family.

"I knew you looked familiar! wow, isn't that something. you look just like your dad. but I bet you get that all the time."

steve grimaced at the mention of his father, trying hard not to show his discomfort. he hated that he couldn't escape the harrington name. and he was never close to his father, to say the least.

" yeah, sometimes." he forced a smile.

ginger's mother smiled, oblivious. "well, thanks again for helping us out. I've got to go see how things are going upstairs. your grandmother is supposed to be going through her closet but she's refusing to get rid of anything." she rolled her eyes jokingly as she ascended back up the stairs.

"I'm sorry about that," ginger said apologetically to steve once her mother was out of earshot. he looked at her almost as if to say why? but he knew that she'd already read him like a book.

"oh, it's okay. I do get that a lot, actually. benefit of living in the same town your parents grew up in, I guess." he tried to laugh it off but ginger saw right through his charade. she knew what it was like to have to pretend.

"yeah. I guess I'm lucky my parents moved." she gave him an apologetic smile and steve only fell harder for this girl he had literally just met. she decided to change the subject as she held up a set of bedsheets, showing them to steve: "could you take these to the relief center?"

"yeah, those are perfect, actually, thanks," he reached to take them from her, and as she passed them to him, their hands touched (just as he wished they would). steve wasn't sure if ginger had noticed (or cared), but she most definitely had (and she definitely cared). for some reason, the way his hand brushed up against hers had made her feel bashful, almost insecure. there's no way a guy like him could want her-- had she forgotten how pregnant she was? why would he be interested in a pregnant girl, especially when he looked like that? he could probably get any chick in this town, she thought to herself.

ginger sighed as she went back to the box she was sorting through, trying to exhale the butterflies that her new acquaintance had put in her stomach. she wanted to evict them but she couldn't seem to get over just how nice steve seemed. and looked.

"hey, is this you?" steve's voice, which sounded like how honey tasted, ginger thought, interrupted her stressful sorting. he held up an old photograph of ginger as a toddler; she was wearing a cowboy hat, her tiny arms squeezing a plethora of stuffed toys, her smile almost too big for her face. the memory made ginger smile fondly.

"oh my god, yes, that is me-- how did this get in here?" she laughed breathlessly as she took the photo from him, their hands unfortunately not touching this time. "my grandma must've forgotten to take the photo out of the frame or something."

"you were a really cute baby," steve said, though he wasn't sure if that was the right thing to say. was that a weird thing to say? he hoped to every god in existence that it wasn't.

"I was, wasn't I?"

they shared a smile before a loud knock on the door interrupted their fleeting moment. steve continued going through the box he was working on as ginger went to answer the door.

she opened it to reveal dustin, who's eyes widened when he noticed ginger's pregnant belly.

"you're pregnant?!" he exclaimed before even greeting her, not at all intending to be rude. ginger laughed.

"no, I just had a huge lunch." she smiled as she moved aside, allowing the teen to come in.

"I take it you've met harrington, then? I saw his car out front." dustin inquired.

"oh yeah, he's right in here, actually. he's been so helpful," ginger confirmed as dustin followed her to the foyer where steve sat, sorting through some old sweaters. his eyes lit up when he saw the younger boy, which ginger thought was extremely sweet and only made her like him even more.

"henderson! you didn't tell me your neighbor's granddaughter was so cool," steve stood to greet his friend.

"yeah, she's the coolest. it's been too long," dustin looked to ginger. "but I still can't believe you're pregnant. like, you're literally with child," he went on excitedly in his very teenager way.

the mention of ginger's pregnancy made steve stand up straight. obviously he knew she was pregnant-- he had eyes, after all, and her protruding abdomen was nothing that could be hidden. but in the few minutes he'd known her, which felt kind of like a tiny lifetime to steve, the topic of her pregnancy hadn't come up. he wasn't sure if they were purposefully avoiding it or if it really just hadn't come up in their conversation yet. the dreaded fact that she probably had a significant other came flooding back into steve's brain, making him uneasy again.

"yup, I'm having a baby. it's not that big of a deal." ginger brushed off the teen's remarks.

"not that big of a deal? um, you're bringing a human into the world, I feel like that's kind of a big deal," dustin argued with her, totally oblivious to the fact that she clearly didn't want to talk about this right now.

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it, yeah?" ginger tried her best to end the conversation. she picked up a box, holding it out to dustin. "could you be a dear and take this outside?"

"on it, boss." he took the box from her and retreated, leaving ginger and steve alone again.

"I'm sorry about him," steve broke the impending silence, feeling like he should be a man and address the situation, or something like that. but he really wasn't sure what to say at all.

"oh, dustin? it's okay, I expected him to be shocked." ginger smiled as she said it, but it was different than the smile she had shared earlier with steve. more forced somehow.

"why would he be shocked?" steve inquired cautiously. he had never been in a situation like this and really wasn't sure what to say. he didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable or like she had to tell him something she didn't want to share with someone she'd just met.

"I mean, I'm a bit young to be pregnant, don't you think?" she smirked at steve almost jokingly as she said it, doing the thing that she did where she tried to make light of something that bothered her deep down.

steve didn't know what to say. he let out a small sound that was almost a stutter, but he just couldn't seem to find the right words.

"it's okay, you can say it. I'm too young to be pregnant."

"no, no, that isn't what I was going to say at all. I just... I don't know what I was going to say. I'm sorry, I'm not usually this awkward." he was telling the truth, he wasn't usually this awkward. he was never this awkward, actually. he was supposed to be cool and calm and collected. he had been king steve once upon a time, after all. but she made him feel like his stomach had turned inside out, in the best of ways.

"it's okay. I'm usually kind of awkward so I can't say the same, but I get it." ginger smiled at him. "I am too young to be pregnant, by the way. I think twenty is too young. but I mean, it's not like I did it on purpose."

she almost laughed at her own sentiment as everything clicked in steve's head. she was his age. she wasn't married, she wasn't even wearing a ring. he must be stupid, he thought. but then he felt bad for feeling excited about the newfound information-- who was the father of her baby? did he leave her high and dry to raise a child on her own? what a shitty thing to do. how could someone do that to her? steve decided that he hated whoever did this to ginger.

"I don't think twenty is too young," steve tried his best to sound unwavering, empowering. "I mean, I know we kinda just met but you seem really responsible to me. and really kind. you'll make a great mother, I'm sure of it." he believed every word he said. even though he'd only just met her, steve knew ginger wouldn't treat her kid how his mother treated him. her kid would be in good hands, that much he knew.

"wow, um, thank you. that's so sweet, steve. you don't know how much I needed to hear that." ginger tried her best not to tear up. maybe it was hormones, maybe it was her new crush on steve, or maybe it was the fact that nobody had ever said anything like that to her before. and she had really needed to hear it.

steve smiled at her before remembering the reason he came over to ginger's grandparents' house in the first place. he quickly began shoveling the pile of things he'd set aside to take to the relief center into a random empty box as ginger spoke again.

"it's been kind of hard, to be honest. going through this alone, I mean," she gestured to her baby bump. "it's just... I don't even know what it is. it's one of those situations that you hear about but you never think it'll happen to you until it does, you know?"

"yeah, no, totally," steve nodded, trying not to short circuit as his brain processed the fact that she was single. he tried to quickly convince his eager mind that he had no chance with her. and even if he did, she probably didn't want a relationship right now. she was pregnant, for god's sake. he had to leave her alone. but his stomach still fluttered none the less.

just in the nick of time, dustin came padding back into the house, holding a wad of cash.

"some people just bought a bunch of stuff! I know the sale hasn't officially started yet, but I didn't wanna turn them down. look at all this cash! here--" he handed ginger the money. "give this to nana."

"nana?" ginger laughed.

"we're close." dustin clarified. he had grown fond of the older woman over the years of growing up next to her. since her own children were grown up and her grandchildren didn't live nearby, she had sort of adopted dustin as a surrogate grandson of sorts.

"I should probably get going, I didn't see the time. I have to get this stuff to the relief center and then get my ass to work--" steve, who had become frazzled after realizing he was almost late for his shift, totally didn't mean to swear in front of his new friend (who he really really liked). he wanted to come off as classy, not crude. he made a mental note to ruminate on it later.

"oh, yeah, I'm sorry to have kept you so long! thank you so much again for all your help, seriously." ginger said as she walked him to the door.

"how long are you in town for?" steve bravely inquired. why would he ask her that? did he think she would want to go out with him? he really didn't mean to ask, the question just slipped out.

"I'm not really sure, it's kind of open-ended at the moment. until we get my grandparents and all their stuff out of here, I guess." ginger shrugged.

"would you want to hang out sometime? with me, I mean. if you're too busy or if you just don't want to I totally get it. but I thought I'd ask just incase you wanted to hang out with people your own age while you're here. or whatever." he rambled off his invitation as he mentally slapped himself. people your own age? why would he say that? he hoped it didn't sound rude or presumptuous.

"yeah, I'd love to. you know where I'll be!" ginger smiled at him as they stood in the doorway. she noticed how pretty his eyes were and she liked how they looked when he smiled. she knew he had to go to work but she didn't want him to leave yet. she could talk with him forever, even if it was awkward.

"o-okay, cool. I guess I'll see you around then." steve said as he made his way out of the house, starting down the driveway.

"see you!" ginger waved as she watched him stride to his car. he was really wearing those jeans. she tried her best to take a mental picture so she could remember the sight later.

steve almost dropped the box he was carrying as he attempted to smoothly hold it in one arm and open his door at the same time. ginger found the dorky moment excruciatingly endearing. she hoped that she really would see him around.

steve had the same thought as he drove away from the house. he wished he could have spent all day with ginger. hell, he would have settled for even five more minutes of time with her. nothing seemed like enough.

he didn't care that she was pregnant. he didn't care about anything other than seeing her again. he had to see her again. and he didn't know it then, but ginger was just what he needed.

--

hi again! if you made it this far, thank you so much again for reading! I hope you enjoyed. please let me know if you liked this and/or if you'd like to read another part of this story :) xoxo

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[clovesnz]

Story that turned out longer than intended about my angst regarding early experiences with the kink. Kinda feel a little uncomfy writing about me as a kid cause like this is a sex blog but also I feel like this kinda thing is so universal and sometimes my brain feels like it’s gonna explode just carrying all of it because wtf

Oh my god I had this friend as a kid and we did so much stuff together that was so incredibly related to this kink and it kills me that it was probably only me feeling a type of way about it. Because from my memory it was mutual, like we both came up with these things, but in retrospect I know it’s just unlikely. But we had a game called “the sneezing game” where one of us was shopkeeper of a very dusty shop and the other would be customers, and you would just pretend to be different people with different reactions to the dust. It was…a lot. Like very in line with the tropes within the community in terms of the scenarios we came up with. And we played it a lot. We even had a variation we played in their hot tub where it was a natural hot springs surrounded by dusty dirt that made people sneeze?? And then a few years later in middle school this friend actually developed a dust allergy and like described to me in great detail how they were staying in a friend’s RV and just kept sneezing. I think at that point I had figured things out more and the whole time I was like oh god why would you tell me this.

But then the other thing is that, as a child I had INSANE germaphobia. I would yell at someone if they were sick around me. I didn’t want to be around my friends if even their family members were sick. I would cry, freak out, it was a lot. But this friend (same one), I just really liked them. I don’t know how to describe this friendship but it was different than any other I’d had (I’ve wondered since then if it was non-platonic on my end but I also think maybe I saw them as a protective figure because they were two years older than me). And when they got sick, they would just straight up tease me for being scared of them. In like a “don’t be a pussy just come hang out with me” kinda way. And somehow that made it easier to put away my fear. It almost felt liberating, because they were just so not careful. Coughing uncovered, blowing their nose into their bare hand. Everything I would normally hate. I remember distinctly the first time I caught a cold from them, and I was exited. Not an emotion I’d ever felt about having a cold. But I just wanted to share everything with them. It felt like we were both in on something, and we spent all this time together just being sick and I didn’t have to worry about getting sick or getting them sick cause we both already were. And at the time I got the impression that they felt the same way about it. But it was so long ago that I can’t really remember where I got that impression from.

I probably wouldn’t think about this as much, except that I still actually run into them sometimes because we are still practically neighbors and have mutual friends. I mean there is a lot of other baggage on my end with this person like the part where I was possibly in love with them but the sneeze stuff especially just kinda like…haunts me lol. Like every time I see them. I’m like that is the same person oh god.

I guess if they were a fellow snzfucker they might be on snzblr and could see this, so like…I guess if this sounds like you hmu lmaooo (yes I know the chances of this are nearly impossible but I can dream)

#I had another friend who I played a sneeze game with #but that one I am a lot more horrified/embarrassed/ashamed about #because in that case it was DEFINITELY me initiating it #and I was a little older so it was only a bit later that I realized what was actually going on #and immediately wanted to die about it #god it’s all so bad #snz #snzblr #snz things