#the eight hour shift i just got off from was working at a movie they too

[dejwrld]

CHOSOIST KINKTOBER GAMING PLAYLIST — WEEK 1

( DEMON TIME) 🎮 INCUBUS!SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY X READER

— game synopsis: your boyfriend has been quite neglectful when it comes to your needs. not particularly being the best book boyfriend similar to the books you've read. but the one demon that visits you in your dreams seem to give you everything you need.

( cw ) ⸻ fem reader, female anatomy described, mentions of reader having a boyfriend, doggystyle, unprotected sex, dirty talk (simon calls reader a slut), mentions of wet dreams, pillow humping, infidelity, kinda monsterfucking, mentions of simon having horns, gaslighting, i changed the ending like 5 times omg

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ kinktober masterlist / previous playthrough

You planned the whole night out for you and your boyfriend—a Halloween tradition that you two always did every year. Binge-watch some Halloween movies, give out candy to children who knocked on your shared apartment door, and have wonderful sex as Jason Vorhees kills his next victim playing in the background. But tonight, you sat alone on the cream-colored sofa with a half bowl of candy (because trick-and-treaters didn’t stop coming despite your boyfriend did). You felt embarrassed, the running thought that you should have let this relationship go sooner flashing through your mind similar to a light bulb flickering on when someone has a wonderful idea. 

You were grasping onto a dead relationship and yearning for a happy ever after that wasn’t even there. You turned the television off and decided to clean up for the evening. Putting away the snacks you laid out and the pizza that grew cold as minutes went by. Pure disappointment sat at the pit of your stomach while cleaning up and eventually finding yourself in bed a little earlier than usual. You quickly did your evening routine of skincare and brushing your teeth before letting your feet guide you to your bed. The sound of late-night partygoers was heard outside and you can only tune out the squeals of excitement as you drift off into a deep slumber. 

But as your body finally fell into the comfort of getting some rest, you soon felt your body jerk up suddenly at the sound of your wooden floors creaking. You wanted to be excited that your boyfriend actually came home and maybe you could do the activities you had planned. Expecting to see him tugging off his button-down shirt and complaining about his supervisor being up his ass during the eight-hour work shift—but instead, you were met with a large figure staring at you. His burly arms crossed over his chest causing the tight black t-shirt to clench upon his upper body. You blinked a couple of times assuming you were dreaming. You even reached to your wrist to pop at the beaded bracelet your boyfriend got you at this carnival you guys went to. The beads sting your wrist after you do that action and you still don’t jolt up in a completely cold sweat.

“You’re not dreaming, love.” His deep voice erupted your thoughts that were racing with questions. “Actually, kinda in the middle. Not dreaming, but actually dreaming. Hard to explain,” He points out before tilting his head at you.

Now you wanted to scream. A large man with a black mask that had a skull imprinted on it was standing just inches away from your bed and your body shook with fear as you inched away from him but was met with your cream-colored headboard.

“It’s no need to panic, you summoned me here. Well, kinda.”  He explains. “Fuck.” He utters before clearing his throat and trying again.

“Every Halloween, some lonely single person's guilt and hurt is so strong that it summons me or one of my peers. A mere incubus that they can have for just one night,” The masked man explained, and when he saw you look at him as if he’s grown an extra pair of arms (which he could do if he put his mind to it, he was fuckin’ demon after all). “You’re actually the first person I’ve been assigned to in a while.”

“I’m so fucking confused right now.” You swing your feet over the ledge of your bed, sliding into your slippers, and walking over to the mysterious man. When you got closer, you immediately poked at his arm and were met with hardness. 

He was real. He wasn’t like some ghost and maybe you had gone crazy.

“But I’m not single…” you pointed out as you circled around his large frame to get a good look at him. If he wasn’t a ghost, he still was here, and if anything went to shit to the point that you had to call the cops—at least you had a visual of his stature. 

You couldn’t tell if his face scrunched up in a confused manner, but his eyes told the rather confused feeling he possessed. You stood in front of him crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m actually taken…” Your voice trails off and for some reason saying that left a bad taste in your mouth. 

It didn’t feel like you were taken. Especially when you went to sleep alone tonight. 

“Hm, that’s interesting. It doesn’t seem like that. So if you’re not taken…you’re hurt. Did the little boyfriend and yourself have an argument?” The stranger waltzed over to the small loveseat in your room and sat down. It was as if he was a therapist questioning you about life. 

“No.” You quickly admit. “We didn’t…he just didn’t show up tonight when I planned something for us. He hasn’t answered his phone, nothing. So, I’m just confused about what I should do because this has happened before.” 

“I see.” His voice trails off and he rubs at his clothed chin before standing up. “Let’s go have some fun, love.” The mysterious man whose eyes you were hypnotized with extended his large hand for you to take. 

“What? I’m still in my pajamas.” You pointed it out. “I need to go change, maybe fix my hair.” You motion to the silk scarf that was tied upon your head.

“Eh, don’t worry about that. I’m a fuckin’ demon. I have it all figured out.” He says. 

You met his gaze and you saw this twinkle in his light-colored eyes. It was a similar twinkle and glint that your boyfriend had when you two were in your cupcake phase during the relationship. “What’s your name? I can’t just go out with a stranger that claims he’s a demon.” 

You heard him kiss his teeth, “You’ll figure it out soon.” And with that, he grabs your hand and in a blink of a moment, you’re both in a crowded bar.

You knew exactly what bar you were at because it was one that your boyfriend frequented a lot with his friends and co-workers. You had to pick him up countless times when his alcohol intake had hit its limit. But as you stood in the middle of the bar, you noticed that no one didn’t notice you. A person walked by you and you were expecting to feel their shoulder roughly bump into you—but instead, their body went through yours as if you merely were a ghost. No one in this bar knew you two were here, which sucked considering your attire.

Your hands roamed your body as you wore a blood-red leather corset and a black leather mini-skirt that hugged your lower half perfectly. On your head was a headband that was decorated with two sparkly red devil horns. Of course, he would ensure you were dressed up as a demon. Your eyes searched in the crowd for him and you saw him behind the bar looking at the massive choice of alcohol. You walked towards the bar and watched him closely, “Why are we here?” You asked. 

“To have a good time.” The man’s fingers tapped at his masked face before grabbing a random bottle and some shot glasses. “So, drink this and let loose.” 

You took the shot off the bar and drank it quickly just in time to hear a loud cheer from the back of the bar. Your head turns to follow the commotion of people dressed up for Halloween while playing what seems to be an intense game of pool. When you saw the familiar figure with a football jersey on, your heart sank immediately. There your boyfriend was playing pool with a huge grin on his face while his friends cheered him on. The shot you took, immediately helped your stomach form the most horrendous knots and you wanted to go home. 

“No.” The demon behind the bar said before filling your shot glass up again. 

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.” Your eyes stared at the liquor in your glass and you then watched him lift the mask just a bit so he could down his own shot. “You brought me here on purpose.” Your eyes narrow at him. 

“I did. To see that you’re all sad for that.” His fingers motion to your boyfriend. “He has seen your text messages by the way and five missed calls.” He adds and you didn’t even want to question him he knew that you had blown up your boyfriend’s phone. 

“It’s really no point to be here. I’ll just talk to him when I get home.” You adjusted the headband on your head. “So, can you please teleport me back home Mr. Demon?”

“No.” He adds before walking around the bar so that he is sitting on the barstool next to you. His large callous hands grab the end of the stool you were comfortably sitting in and bring it closer to him. “We’re going to make your lovely boyfriend so paranoid that he’ll be groveling at your feet.” 

“And how the hell are we going to do that if he can’t see us?” Your eyes met with the mysterious demon and you felt hot under his gaze. Maybe it was because you couldn’t see his face and since it was Halloween, no one was going to question why he wore a mask.

“Who said he can’t see us?” His head tilts just a bit before he snaps his finger and suddenly when he snaps his finger and moves your stool just a bit—your boyfriend glances in your direction quickly. So quickly he did a double take at how close you were with the demon who popped up in your life this evening.

Your boyfriend’s eyes enlarged at the sight of you and what you were wearing and soon the demon snaps his fingers again. You watched as your boyfriend still glanced in your direction, but it was as if he simply was imagining things. He shook his head and went back to sipping his alcohol.

“He’s going to lose his mind by the end of the night.” The demon adds with confidence oozing from his tone. 

“I guess, this will work. But, I must ask. Why’d the mask? Also, where are your horns? Don’t demons have horns?” You took it upon yourself to take the cocktail that the bartender just put on the bar since no one could see you two. 

“I do have horns, just think the horns give everyone a good spook.” He points out. “Last time, a lady threw a glass at me. So, I settled with the mask and no horns.” He takes a sip from the beer bottle that the bartender sat in front of a talking customer next to him. 

“Hm,” was the only thing you said. “Are you ugly? A lot of horror stories perceive demons as ugly.” 

“Quite the opposite.” He backfires. “Can’t really haunt people's dreams to have sex with them and solve their problems if we’re ugly.” He jokes.

“Then can I see your face?” You asked, your fingers twirling the straw in your cocktail and you gave him a grin. 

“After you stop being so uptight and help me…help you.” He finishes his beer and he stands up motioning for you to follow.

With a quickness, you’re downing your cocktail and following the man in the crowd. The music was so loud that you had to practically yell out anything you wanted him to hear. “What about your name? Do you have a name?” 

“Simon, or Ghost. Whichever you prefer.” He walks over to the pool table, and leans against the pool table adjacent to the one your boyfriend and his friends were at. 

You watched as some random woman dressed as a cheerleader placed her arms around your boyfriend's waist as he was trying to hit the pool ball. You felt jealousy, anger, and betrayal seeing this. He ditched your plans to be out with her. That douche. 

“Don’t have such a down face.” Simon nudges your side before grabbing the pool table. “Like I said, we are going to make him lose his mind by the end of the night.” He grabs a hold of your waist after grabbing a pool stick. “Just go with the flow, love.” He whispered in your ear and you felt your skin decorated with goosebumps. 

Simon helped guide your hand towards breaking the balls in the middle of the table. Despite the bar being fairly cool, you felt hot with how close he was to you. His crotch pressing against the fatness of your butt in the skin-tight mini skirt. His breath itching at the shell of your ear. Just as you are about to hit the ball, he snaps his fingers again making you two noticeable in the crowd of people. The sound of wolf whistles could be heard seeing your figure bent over—if Simon wasn’t here, strangers would have been to see what your momma gave you. There as Simon helps you break the group of balls perfectly, you squeal in excitement gaining the attention of your boyfriend’s friend and soon your boyfriend again. His face goes red at the sight of Simon’s hands all on you and you watch as he scrambles to remove the pretty woman off him. He made his way to the pool table, but Simon snapped his fingers again causing your boyfriend to be confused once again. Your eyes scan over his face while he shakes his head and mumbles something under his breath. 

“And now he’s going to call you. But you’re going to ignore his call because that’s exactly what he’s been doing to you.” Simon leans against the pool table and the two of you watch as your boyfriend pulls out his phone to call you. 

You were astonished at what you were viewing, he was panicking. The mere thought of you being with another man had him about to explode. You watch as your boyfriend runs his fingers through his hair, a thing he does when he’s overthinking his ass off. You knew for a fact that he was overthinking the fact that you were probably out having just as much fun as him. 

“So, Simon. Do you have sex with all the women whose lives and dreams you hop into?” 

“Not all of them. Some just want someone to talk to.” He shrugs. “You on the other hand just need someone to teach your nitwit of a boyfriend to appreciate what he has.” He adds. 

“So, you wouldn’t have sex with me? Just put my boyfriend in check.” You playfully nudged his side and you were met with hardness. 

“Do you want to have sex with me?” His eyes met yours and you were forced to swallow the large lump in your throat. “Because I may have known your boyfriend is an idiot, but I also know he hasn’t touched you in weeks…a month and a half to be exact.” He adds as he turns to face you. This time, he’s caging you from leaving since you were still resting on the pool table. 

“I could have gone the sex route, but that wouldn’t solve your shitty boyfriend situation which would mean I would be stuck with you until you’re no longer miserable.” He says. “But, you and I know that you’re a good girl.” His hand adjusts the red devil horn headband on your head. “You wouldn’t cheat on him, even though..he’s probably going to cheat on you with her.” He motions to the brunette cheerleader who is still by your boyfriend's side even as he is attempting to call your phone.

“You don’t know me, Simon.” You pointed it out. “Only what you observe about my life.” 

“Then do you want to prove me wrong, love?” His hand rests on your waist tugging you closer to him. 

“I’m sure that’s what you’ll want.” 

“It is, I’m not going to deny it. But, I’m not going to force it out of you. You’re a grown woman, use your words and make your own decision.” He drops his hands from your waist and walks away from you, disappearing in the crowd and towards the bathroom. 

Like the touch-deprived woman you were, you followed before him. But just as you were walking to follow him in the bathroom, you bumped into your boyfriend. You expected your body to go right through his since Simon did snap his fingers, but you collided with your boyfriend’s shoulder gaining his attention. When he saw you, that look of shock appeared again and his lips parted to speak, but just as his hands reached out for you—your boyfriend's confused expression returned and his hand that went to grab at you, went right through you. You started to feel bad, but as you walked further away—seeing the woman clutch on your boyfriend made all the guilt that was bubbling inside of you burst. 

You walked into the bathroom and it was filled with many girls fixing their makeup and drunkenly complimenting each other. Bit by bit they scattered out the bathroom when they heard some generic pop song come on. Simon was leaning against the pink-colored tile walls waiting. 

“So, you’ve made your decision?” He asked with his arms crossed over his shoulders. 

“I wouldn’t be in here if I didn’t.” 

Simon chuckles at your words before he brings his hands to the fabric of the black mask. You were preparing yourself for what you were about to see. You knew he was attractive behind the mask, his whole demeanor screamed it. The way he carried himself. His confidence. You can go on and still be naming many other attributes. 

He pulls the mask out and you have to catch yourself from letting your jaw drop. Despite his face being decorated with scars, you had questions about—he still looked like he could have the face of an angel. His dirty blonde colored strands were ruffled due to the mask and his eyes—you’d stared upon them all night but finally putting a face to them made your knees go weak.

You walked closer towards him, “Will they see us?” You asked as you glanced back at the door. 

“Only if you want.” He closes the gap between you two. 

You mentally were weighing out the pros and cons of this. Frankly, the pros benefit you much more than the cons. So you took that leap and kissed Simon immediately. The sound of the bathroom door swung open, and someone walked in to grab a paper towel. Because of Simon and his silly demon powers, they didn’t even know you two were there. The drunken stranger walked right through you and Simon as you were making out. His hands roamed your body as if you were a precious gem he had just found. Your body attempted to guide him into one of the stalls, but he didn’t budge. You weren’t sure if it was because he had other plans in mind or if it was because of his huge stature. 

“It’s not like anyone could see us.” Simon's words mumble against your skin as he places kisses on your neck. His body guides you towards the bathroom sink before he twirls you around.

You were forced to stare at yourself in the mirror at your reflection. The clear lip gloss that formerly stained your lips was smudged across your face. Your eyes were glossy of anticipation and need for a demon you had just met. The feeling of his bulge pressing against your butt causes you to close your eyes and inhale sharply. 

“That’s true, but—one mere snap could make them see us.” You spoke out.

“They’ll be too intoxicated to notice.” His eyes met yours in the mirror before he rolled the skirt that left practically nothing for imagination up around your waist. The coolness of the bathroom causes your skin to be garnished with little goosebumps and your hair to stand up on your limbs, you clutch upon the porcelain sink. 

You only hum at Simon’s words while he pulls your panties to the side and begins to line himself to insert you after removing his cock from his bottoms. The tip of his cock rubs against your wet folds collecting the essence that stains the inside of your thighs. Each push forward into your pussy, the grip on your waist grew tighter. The sound of his cries of pleasure was like music to your ears. Completely distracting you from the fact that his cock was stretching you out bit by bit. 

“Just give me the go and I’ll keep going, love.” He professes. His eyes once more meeting yours and seeing the way your lips part apart to let out a broken moan, gave him the answer he ached to hear. His hips push forward being met with the cushion of your ass and he just wondered with not being touched in so long, how do you like to be fucked. 

“How’d you want, Y/N?” Simon questions, his hips rolling in a slow and sensational way causing you to moan some more. “Slow.” He adds before pulling himself fully out of your cunt. “Or.” His voice trails off as he’s lining himself back up to slam inside your addicting pussy again. “Hard.” 

Your brain couldn’t comprehend his question quickly enough because he soon gave you a mixture of both. Slow strokes to have you crying out his name as if the people entering and exiting the bathroom could hear you. Fast and hard strokes to have your breath hitch in your throat and for you to hold onto the surface tighter.

The vulgar sound of skin slapping against each other begins to ring in your ears like a sweet jazz tune. Your hand reaches back behind you to slow down Simon’s movement, but he swats your hand away as if it were a mere inconvenience to him. Simon lifts the shirt he wore to bring it up to his mouth. Despite the two of your bodies already crossing a boundary, he needed you to be closer. His teeth held up the ends of his shirt as he thrust forward inside you. Simon has pleasured many people in the world, but nothing was like this. No one has ever clutched around his hardened cock like this. Sweat beads form on his forehead and he felt completely pussy drunk for you. 

Your knees were growing weak but, Simon assured you that you don’t fall. With each stroke and thrust, he held you closer to make sure his motion didn’t get interrupted. Tears decorate your lashline causing your mascara to smudge. 

“Fuck.” You moaned out. “I’m so clos-” Your words were interrupted by the bathroom door swinging open and your boyfriend walked in making out with the brunette who seemed to be attached by his hip all evening. 

“Don’t pay attention to him, only me.” His fingers coil into your hair tugging you up so that your back is pressed against his chest. His eyes never broke eye contact with you in the mirror. “It’s just me and you in here, right?” He questions as he thrusts inside of you. 

Your eyes averted to your boyfriend as he was making out with the girl, but he broke the kiss quickly. “I just need to call her, ensure she’s okay. She hasn’t answered my calls and that’s not like her.” 

“Hmm, wonder what she’s doing.” Simon teasingly whispers in your ear. “Is she home watching her silly little Halloween movies or is she getting fucked like a slut in a bathroom?” With each word, he thrusts inside you.

“She’s probably just sleeping.” The brunette pecks your boyfriend’s lips. “Or getting fucked.” She jokes and your boyfriend pushes her away.

“That’s not funny.” He says before he tries to leave the bathroom and through the sound of your heated flesh slapping against Simon’s toned thighs, his finger snaps just in time for your boyfriend to see a glimpse of his pretty girlfriend (who he assumed was home) getting fucked a stranger he didn’t know. 

Your boyfriend’s eyes enlarged at the sight but before he could fully react, Simon snapped his fingers once more causing the two of you to be merely an illusion once more. Your boyfriend ran his hand over his face finally coming to terms that he had to get out of here. He had to ensure that you were home right where he assumed you were. As Simon continued to fuck you until you were seeing stars, your paranoid boyfriend rushed out of the bathroom calling your phone that was still home. Each second, your phone went to voice mail causing your boyfriend to spiral even more at the thought that a handsome stranger had you bent over in the bar he frequently goes to. 

“And my work here is done, love. Sweets dreams.” Simon kisses the side of your temple just in time for you to finally orgasm all over his cock—but eventually, jolt up in your bedroom in a cold sweat and your panties soaked. 

Instantly, your hands run over your body where Simon formerly touched. Your fingertips dance upon your lips that he once kissed trying to process everything that just happened. He did say you were dreaming, but it felt so real. The demon costume hugging your body like a latex glove felt real. Simon’s cock being inside you felt real. 

But your suspicions were deemed true as your boyfriend burst through the room in a panic. Sweat droplets embellish his forehead as if he ran all the way home to you. 

“Y/N, did you go out tonight?” Your boyfriend asked.

With false confusion plastered on your face, you blinked a couple of times.

“No, is everything okay? Maybe you’re being just a bit paranoid, babe.”

And in his own realm which was the home of incubus demons around the world, Simon viewed the conversation unfold with a smirk.

“That’s my girl.” 

⸻ TAGS // @syndrlla97 @leoyayzies @salaciousdoll @xintothewoodswegox @bxrbie1 @lilvampirina @wiinterz @dvafoxxystrashcan

#simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #cod x reader #cod smut #call of duty smut #ghost smut #ghost x reader #female reader #call of duty x reader #video game x reader #angelshubnetwork #chosoistkinktober23 #⊹˳⁺ ♡ 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝒻𝒾𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈

[cordeliawhohung]

In Limbo [Chapter 2]

mafia!141 masterlist | In Limbo masterlist | general masterlist | taglist | playlist

mafia!Simon Riley x fem!Reader

[cw: alcohol]

It was always better that way; when you didn’t have someone trying to look out for you. 

wc: 6k

It was always blistering hot in that damn restaurant.

Countless patrons packed tight into booths and tables throughout the building on that busy Saturday night, and the heat that radiated off of them was near suffocating. Sweat clung to every inch of your skin, especially in your armpits, and you had never found yourself secretly so grateful to be dressed in black because at least the evidence was invisible. 

Despite your discomfort, you performed your job to the best of your ability, per usual. You weaved between tables as you led your guests to their seats, packaged at least twenty to-go orders, and only got yelled at by the waitstaff once for seating a family of five incorrectly. Really it was no different from any other night you worked. Things were always chaotic at a restaurant as successful as Sapori, which made things stressful, but your pay as a hostess was at least manageable. And they turned a blind eye when your hours started hitting over the fifty mark in a week, whereas most other places would be finding ways to get you to cut back in order to not pay you overtime. 

It was always better that way; when you didn’t have someone trying to look out for you. 

Except someone was always looking out for you, which is why you shouldn’t have been surprised when you saw Row strut through the entrance with an obnoxious pirate hat on her head. Your first instinct was to grab one of the menus and hide your face as if it would disguise you among the backdrop of the crowd behind you. Row was much too perceptive for you to slip away without consequence, so you continued to stand at your station with only a slight grimace on your face as she approached. 

“Ahoy, matey,” she exclaimed, though with only half the enthusiasm you knew she could muster. 

“I don’t think Jack Sparrow ever said that throughout any of the movies,” you said. 

“Captain Jack Sparrow, mind you,” Row corrected. 

“Right, of course.” 

“I thought you would’ve remembered that better after you oh so ceremoniously dubbed me the name Sparrow after him,” she continued. 

The thing was, Row could go on for ages like that, bickering back and forth with you until one of you got sick of it and complained hard enough that the other was forced to stop. Judging by the excitement that pooled in her eyes and the playful way she kept messing with her cheap pirate hat, you knew she could go all night if she needed to. Instead, you sighed as you quickly glanced over your shoulder, ensuring things were still going smoothly behind you before you turned your attention back to Row. 

“What are you doing here?” you questioned as you fiddled with the stack of menus in front of you. 

“I’m here to pick you up,” Row responded as if you should have already known the answer. 

Just as you opened your mouth to question her further, the answer smacked the back of your head. Halloween. No wonder why she wore that stupid foam hat. Earlier in the week you had agreed to go to John’s club to celebrate the stupid holiday, and then completely forgot about it. Which is why you neared hour eleven of your eight hour shift. Usually you didn’t mind the extra hours, however, if you had remembered you would have been finishing your night off in a packed nightclub during a holiday, well… you would’ve been home attempting to recharge a long time ago. 

“You’re off soon, aren’t you?” Row then asked when your silence started to stretch. 

“Uhm, yeah,” you answered as your eyes flickered to the clock on your left. Five to ten. “Just give me five minutes and I’ll be good to go.” 

In reality, no amount of preparation could ever truly ready you for any sort of intense social outing, and you dreaded arriving at the club the entire ride there. You had only been to John’s club one other time previously for Row’s birthday, and that had been more than enough for you. Despite it being years ago, you could still smell the rancid alcohol and feel the bass of the music ripple through your chest as if it would turn your organs into jelly. Everything was too loud, too much, too close. 

But this was Row. 

So when the two of you stood outside of that hulking building that shook from the inside out, you tried your best not to complain. A deep throb began to gnaw at the soles of your feet from standing for so long, and a tension headache blossomed at your temples, but at least you were offered the solace of entering through the VIP section rather than the main door. Countless people stood outside in line for even the slightest chance of being admitted, which should have made you feel special being allowed through another entrance, but you knew that meant the inside was packed more than work had been. 

Except it got worse. Because it always got worse. 

You almost didn’t recognize the large figure that stood outside of the VIP entrance, but once those dark eyes landed on you, you knew it couldn’t be anyone other than Simon Riley. That odd, searing feeling that had plagued you the night you went to dinner at the Price’s quickly returned as his gaze meandered back and forth between you and Row. They were soft, inquisitive. As if he couldn’t quite comprehend why you were in a place like that. As if he knew you didn’t belong in a place like that. 

“Evenin’ ladies,” he greeted casually. 

Even if you hadn’t recognized him visually, his voice would have been more than enough to jog your memory. You could still feel his breath tickle your ear as he leaned over your back to guide your hands into place while playing pool. The sound of him  was a delicious baritone you were certain would haunt you in your sleep. 

“Stuck on guard duty tonight, Riley?” Row teased. 

“Somethin’ like that,” Simon responded. 

“Shame. Well, Chip and I-” Row continued as she put too much emphasis on your name while she threw her arm around your shoulder, “-are going to get wasted.” 

A slight smirk pulled at Simon’s lips and you couldn’t help but shake your head at Row’s triumphant claim. She could get wasted if she wished. You planned on trying to keep your wits about you best as you could in that foreboding place. 

“That so?” Simon asked. He said it as if he attempted to challenge your friend, but he still stepped to the side and gestured to the open door behind him all the same. “Cheers.” 

There wasn’t any time to glance over your shoulder before Row pressed onward, making sure to drag you along with her. Walking into John’s club was what you imagined walking into hell felt like. Thick, hot air threatened to singe your hair, and you instantly found it hard to breathe. Countless patrons surrounded the entryway, and it appeared that Row wasn’t the only one who felt festive as many of them wore masks, cheap costumes, or on the not-so-rare-occasion, straight lingerie. The cheering and chatting from the dance floor could almost be confused with the screams of the damned, and you found yourself taking deeper breaths than normal in order to supply your brain with enough oxygen to keep going. 

“Come on!” Row shouted. Even with her yelling right into your ear it was nearly impossible to hear her over the mess of music that poured through the speakers around you. “Up top! More room!” 

Despite the fact you were in the VIP section, it was still incredibly crowded. Whenever you thought of a section like that, you usually figured it would be a bit more sparse than that. Perhaps it was just that night, wild and full of insane antics, that caused the crowd to grow larger than expected, but there was slight reprieve to be found on the second floor. Though the elevation was higher, the air felt fresh as it had fewer bodies to attempt to weave through. 

After you and Row got your drinks, the two of you made yourselves at home at a small table on an overhanging balcony that overlooked the dance floor. Surprisingly, it was quieter there than anywhere else, which you realized must have been thanks to the fact you sat behind the speakers for once rather than in front of them. Still, even with the slight break from the usual bustle, you couldn’t help but mess with the straw of your mostly full drink while your foot tapped on the floor. 

“Well?” Row asked you expectantly. She said the word as if she had given you a question to answer, but it was the first thing that had been said between the two of you since you had sat down. “How have you been? Really? I feel like we weren’t able to talk the other night with all the extra distractions.” 

“Oh. Well, you know…” you started, but the words died in your throat. 

It was never easy answering a question like that. How were you supposed to twist your life into something interesting when you were anything but? All you had done since the dinner at her house was work, and if you weren’t working then you were sleeping with whatever free time you managed to scrounge up. No, the only things worth telling her were the things you couldn’t tell her, but it wasn’t like that was anything new. You had gotten so good at lying, you could almost convince yourself that you were just a very good storyteller. 

Almost. 

“Just work, mostly,” you excused. 

“Oh, come on,” Row groaned. She took a quick sip of her drink (rum, as she made sure to point out) before overdramatically leaning back in her chair. “You always say that. It really is just work with you, huh? Don’t you have any hobbies? Don’t you get out? Try to talk to people?” 

You nearly laughed at her questioning. Out of anyone in the world, Row should have known about your inability to really keep friends around. After so many years of knowing one another, those questions almost made it seem like the two of you were strangers. Maybe you were, in some way. 

“I think we both know that getting out is more your thing than mine,” you said, attempting a bit of humor. 

“It could be your thing too if you didn’t ditch me half the time I invited you somewhere,” Row countered, not as humorous. As if tasting her own venom, she sighed and leaned forward, face softer. “I meant what I said the other night. You are worrying me. More than a little.” 

In order to give yourself some time to think, you raised your cup off the table to take a small sip, only to instantly regret it. Your childish, as Row put it, vodka cranberry was about nine parts vodka and one part cranberry juice. For someone who couldn’t afford to drink all that often, it tasted worse than cough medicine on your tongue, and you nearly choked. 

“What’s there to worry about?” you asked. 

“What isn’t there to worry about?” Row countered. “I mean, you’re working yourself half to death, it seems like you never do anything for you- hell, I don’t even think you’ve managed to score a boyfriend, let alone make it to first-fucking-base.” 

“I think I’m doing just fine without a partner,” you interjected. 

“My point is,” Row continued, refusing to listen to whatever petty excuses you tried to muster, “I’m terrified you’re still trying to punish yourself.” 

It was difficult to believe that a place so full of life could fall so silent, and yet the only sound you could hear was the ringing in your ears. Tinnitus, the doctors said. Normal. Typical. Absolutely plaguing. There was nothing you could say in response. Her words stunned you, because unlike usual, she saw right through you. At least she put you out of your misery and continued talking so that you didn’t have to. 

“Look, I… know we’re not really family. It’s not my place to say stuff like this, but it’s… fuck.” Row cut herself off with a chuckle and a slight shake of her head. “I know I didn’t know you before everything happened. Hell, you could have always been like this. But it’s concerning all the same. I just don’t want you to blame yourself for surviving.” 

It must have been the alcohol. Surely. Row never talked about the accident, and neither did you. After all those years, a silent rule had settled between the two of you where you would never speak of it. Not when the anniversary of it came around. Not even when the events plagued your sleep. It was easy to pretend you were quiet about it for Row’s sake rather than your own; but really, you didn’t talk about it because you were certain the guilt would choke you on its way out of your throat. 

“It’s not your fault, you know. For surviving,” Row continued. 

You swallowed. 

“I know,” you lied. 

Row raised an eyebrow at you incredulously, and you quickly forced a half smile on your face before she could chastise you for your sloppy deception. Usually you were better at lying, but she had caught you off guard in what you could only assume was quite literally a plea to get your shit together. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever not feel guilty about it, Row,” you said a bit more truthfully. “That’s the kind of stuff that stays with you. But I know it’s not my fault, and I’m not trying to self-sabotage or anything but I’ll… try harder.” 

A bittersweet smile crossed her face and you found your eyes adverting to the cup of bitter liquid in your hands in order to avoid the sight of it. She was much too caring for someone who didn’t deserve it. 

“Well, good. I know it’s more complicated than I’ll ever be able to understand, but I just want to make sure that you know you’re not alone in this. You’ll always have me, no matter what,” she finished, but the words rolled off of her tongue awkwardly. As if she had expected more of a fight from you. 

An awkward silence fell between the two of you after her strange attempt at a confession, yet everything continued to pulse around you. The music that vibrated the very air, the patrons who jumped and danced below you like a heaving pile of flesh; it all continued. The only thing that had changed was the stale scent in the air. 

“Well, what a way to ruin the fun, huh? Alright, enough sappy talk for the night, I promise,” Row chuckled as she adjusted the foam pirate hat on her head. “I’m just about empty. Wanna come with me for a refill?” 

Just like Row had claimed, she spent the rest of the evening getting wasted, and it didn’t take her long to get there. In a matter of hours her speech was so slurred her words blended into the mess of noise around you, and she could hardly hold herself steady when she brought you over to the pool table for what she promised was going to be a quick game. Her inebriation got so concerning you had all but forgotten your anxiety and discomfort in favor of paying extra close attention to your friend, lest she pass out while standing up. 

Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that you had something to focus on other than the prying eyes around you. Despite how late into the night it got, the club only seemed to grow more packed by the minute, and you were certain the roof of that place would pop off any moment. Row seemed completely immune to any outside forces as she sloppily leaned over the pool table and attempted to make her shot. Your pool game had gone on for at least forty minutes; half in part due to Row missing a majority of her shots, and half in part due to her not being able to shut up long enough to focus on hitting anything properly. 

“This table needs to stop leaning,” Row muttered. 

“It’s not leaning, you’re just drunk,” you corrected. 

“I know that,” she whined. “Doesn’t change the fact it’s leaning.” 

Playfully, you rolled your eyes at her just as she flubbed up another shot. She straightened herself up and attempted to adjust her crooked pirate hat, only to make it worse, though, she didn’t seem to mind all that much as a grin crossed her lips. 

“Too bad Riley isn’t here to give us some pointers, huh?” she teased. 

There was something in the tone of her voice that sent a jolt through your body, and that familiar, yet confusing, heat coursed through your body again. Your skin recalled the way Simon felt against you, how his hands so carefully guided yours, how his voice rattled your eardrum so deliciously… 

“He seems busy with work,” you excused. 

Row’s grin quickly melted into something else at your comment. It wasn’t quite malicious, yet there was something off about it. Like she knew something you didn’t. 

“Shame,” she quipped. “The two of you seemed awfully comfy the other night.” 

Of course she would bring that up. Really, you had tried to forget about that event the entire week, but to no avail. No matter how much you distracted yourself, your mind would always wander back to his words and his warmth. The odd thing was, there wasn’t even anything lustful about it. It had just been the first time a man had touched you and hadn’t made your skin crawl. 

“He was just being helpful,” you claimed. 

“You know, you should just date him,” Row said, ignoring your comment. 

For a moment, all you could do was stand there and blink. “You’re being ridiculous.” 

“No, I’m being serious,” she slurred. “He’s a good guy, really. Quiet, too. Bit of an arse but I think you two get on well.”

“Row, I don’t think that’s-” 

“And you need someone to look out for you at home, too. Those apartments look like they’re falling apart at the seams, you’re gonna get fucking robbed one of these days.” 

“Really, it’s-”

“He also seems to be having a much better time following us around now that you’re here. He never seems this interested when it’s just me.” 

Ice formed in your veins at her comment, and you found yourself standing there dumbfounded. Following us around? You couldn’t even bring yourself to attempt to look around for him, you were stunned and in too much disbelief to even process it that far. As for Row, her words seemed to have the exact effect she had hoped for, and she didn’t even attempt to hide her grin from you. 

“What? You mean you haven’t noticed your little shadow?” she teased as she gestured to the area behind you. 

It was only then that you braved a glance over your shoulder, and you felt your throat grow dry at the sight of Simon. He sat at one of the small round tables in a chair that obviously didn’t fit him right. Long legs stretched out to the side in order to accommodate his height, and he slouched back something fierce as if he attempted to make himself appear smaller. Luckily his attention seemed to be absorbed by his phone, which casted a dull glow on his face. You weren’t sure you could handle it if you looked back at him just to find him already staring. 

“John likes to send him as a guard dog whenever I come here, since things can get a little crazy sometimes,” Row explained. “I promise he’s not being a weirdo. Not on purpose, anyway.” 

Things only got worse after that. Her teasing, her insisting that you try to talk to him, her drinking. Her words and insinuations made your mind spin more than the small sips of alcohol you allowed in your system, and your only saving grace was that John crawled out of his office half past midnight in order to wrangle her in. It was impossible to talk sense into her, it seemed. You watched awkwardly from the sidelines as John steadied your friend by her hips, trying to keep her from swaying too much. All Row could do was giggle as she pulled at John’s shirt in an attempt to kiss him. It was a miracle that she hadn’t gathered too much attention with the scene she caused, but you still found your eyes flickering around the area as if danger lurked just beyond where the light could reach. 

Though you got severe secondhand embarrassment from it all, there was something a little endearing about it all. John’s patience with her was unmatched, and you found him grinning at her more often than he chastised her. They acted as if they were the only two people in the entire building, and you wondered what that must have felt like. To not be so on edge that you felt and saw everything at once. To be so carefree that not even the hellish cheers coming from below could distract them from one another. 

“Wanna get some fresh air?”

You hadn’t even realized Simon had approached you until his fingertips rested on the wood of the pool table in front of you. Like a magnet, your eyes were drawn to him, but you tried not to stare too long, lest he read every thought hiding in your mind. 

“Huh?” you asked; not because you hadn’t heard him, but because you were somewhat perplexed by his offer. 

“Thought we could give the lovebirds over here some alone time,” he chuckled. 

Everything in you screamed no. Despite his apparent kindness to you and Rows - inebriated - trust in him, you still didn’t exactly know Simon. All he really was to you was a stranger. A kind one, but something unknown all the same, and following a stranger outside always seemed like a bad idea. Still, the air in that building had suffocated you since the very moment you stepped inside, and maybe you were a little too grateful to have an excuse to leave for a little while.

Toward the back area of the VIP section, there was a heavy door that led out to a terrace that overlooked part of the alleyway and the street below. Plenty of people still mingled about, though they appeared much more laid back than the people inside. Cold autumn air chilled your feverish skin as Simon guided you underneath a canopy of lights that hung above your heads and towards a thick metal railing. 

The cold iron felt nice in the palm of your hands, and it was only then that you realized how exhausted you were. Over ten hours of your day had been spent at work, slaving away on your feet, and instead of being able to pass out once you got home, you had been stuck at that cursed club. Of course you adored Row, and you would do anything for her, but going through all that work and effort just to watch her get wasted wasn’t exactly what you’d consider a night well spent. 

“You smoke?” Simon asked as he shuffled his hand into the pocket of his jeans. 

You watched him carefully as he took out a pack of smokes and started beating the bottom of the carton against the palm of his hand. Little hints of the tattoo’s that covered his arms poked out from underneath the sleeves of his shirt, and you tried your best not to stare. 

“No,” you replied while you swallowed the lump in your throat. 

“Good,” he hummed. “Don’t start.” 

It didn’t take long for him to light the thing and start puffing away. The scent of it surprisingly wasn’t as strong as you expected it to be, and he was kind in the way he ensured to blow the smoke well out of your way. 

“So, what’re you dressed up as?” he asked. 

You chuckled at his question and stared down at your work uniform. It wasn’t anything special. Just a plain black dress shirt along with matching pants. Black was always the color of choice in the serving industry. It was easier to hide stains that way, be it from food or sweat. 

“Oh uh, a Sapori hostess,” you replied humorously. “Didn’t really have time to change before getting dragged out here.” 

He hummed again. “Sapori. Heard that place is pretty fancy.” 

“It’s up there, yeah,” you concurred. 

“They pay well?”

“Sixteen.”

“Not great.”

You shrugged. “Pays the bills.” 

A sharp breath of air sounded from Simon as he inhaled another long draw from his cigarette, and it was only then that you realized that was probably the longest conversation that you had with someone that wasn’t either Row or someone from work. Not even Marco could force a conversation out of you for that long. It was odd. Foreign. Yet you didn’t want it to end. It was difficult to explain, but talking to Simon came natural, even with the insane heat he sparked inside of you. 

“What about you?” you asked. “I know you work for John, but what do you do for him?” 

“Security, mostly. And whatever odd jobs he assigns,” Simon answered. “Usually end up workin’ nights. Same as you, I imagine.” 

“Yeah, though I usually am off by midnight most nights.” You laughed as you answered his question, and you weren’t quite sure why. “I’d be in bed by now if it wasn’t for Row.” 

“Row?” Simon repeated. “What’d she do to earn a nickname like that?” 

“I could tell you, but I think I’d have to kill you afterwards,” you laughed. 

“Ah, one of those stories,” Simon chuckled. There was another pause in the conversation as Simon finished off the rest of his cigarette before tossing it onto the cement at his feet and stomping out the embers. “Alright, what about your name then, Chip?” 

You opened your mouth to answer him, only for your lips to instantly seal shut. Really, the story of your nickname was probably more embarrassing than Row’s, or maybe it only felt that way because it was tied to you. Like every little thing about you was pathetic and something to be hidden. 

“A while back, Row’s grandma invited us over for tea. The cup she gave me was broken just a little bit on the rim. I was too… I don’t know, nervous I guess, to ask for another cup so I drank out of the broken one the entire time. When Row found out she laughed so hard and said it was like that little teacup from Beauty and the Beast, Chip. She’s called me that ever since.” 

A quiet hum escaped Simon as he fully turned to face you. Without the cigarette between his fingers to distract him, he was able to give you his complete and undivided attention. The way he looked at you was strange, and you weren’t sure what to make of the odd churning in your stomach. It wasn’t sickening, nor skin crawling, but it made your insides feel as if they were on fire.

“Cute,” he commented. 

“Riley!” 

Both you and Simon turned at the calling of his name, and it didn’t take long for either of you to find the source. John marched out onto the terrace with Row stumbling behind him. She had somehow managed to lose her hat since you last saw her, though she didn’t seem too heartbroken about it as she threw her arms around you the moment you were within reach. 

“I missed you,” she slurred, rum heavy on her breath. 

“I was only gone for a few minutes,” you laughed. 

“Too long.”

“Riley,” John repeated again, ignoring his wife’s antics, “would you take the girls home for me? Don’t want them trying to head home alone when she’s this drunk. Take the car, since I’m sure you probably took your bike here, yeah?” 

The man fished a set of keys out of his pocket before handing them to Simon, who shook them around a bit as if he liked the sound of the jingle. “I’ll take care of ‘em.” 

Getting Row into her car proved to be a difficult task, though it wasn’t nearly as entertaining as watching Simon struggle into his seat. The poor man proved to be significantly taller than Row was, and he managed to bash the side of his head on the roof of the car. After some quiet cursing from him, and merciless giggles from Row, he managed to move the seat back far enough that he wasn’t completely scrunched over, and he took off once he ensured both you and Row were buckled in the back seat. 

“This is what you get for being so tall,” Row teased. “I mean, really. There is no reason for anyone to be that tall.” 

“You know, your husband is only a bit shorter than me,” Simon retorted. 

“Yeah, but he puts his inches somewhere more important than height,” she muttered, just low enough for only you to hear. 

By the time you had pulled into the driveway, Row had managed to sober up, but only slightly. Still, Simon made sure to step out of the driver's seat and walk around to the back side of the car in order to help her out. Once she was steady on her own feet, Row turned around to look at you, where she pointed her finger at you as if in warning. 

“Stay,” she ordered.

Confused, you glanced at Simon awkwardly before looking back at her. “Aye, aye, captain.” 

Once you gave your confirmation, she slammed the door shut behind her and allowed Simon to lead her inside of the house. It only took her about three failed attempts to get the keys in the lock so that they could enter the dark and quiet house. Simon was going to leave then, as she had gotten into the house plenty fine. He knew that Row was more than capable of taking care of herself for the night, despite her state, but before he could even turn around, she turned to face him with her hands on her hips. 

“Chip,” she spoke, “I want you to keep an eye on her.” 

Dumbfounded, Simon raised a brow as he crossed his arms in the doorway. “Of course.” 

“I don’t just mean tonight,” Row corrected. “I mean, even after tonight. Every day or so if you can manage it.” 

Now, that request truly did confuse him. He had only met you two times, and you seemed plenty capable of taking care of yourself. You were a grown woman, after all, yet Row attempted to make it seem like you were some helpless creature. Then again, he had only met you two times; there wasn’t a whole lot he knew about you, and Row wasn’t one to be overly dramatic. If there was something about you that worried her, it was worth at least hearing her out. 

“She alright?” he questioned. 

“No. Yes. I don’t know,” Row sighed. She rubbed at her eyes as if she could remove the drunken haze that clogged her vision. “It’s difficult to tell with her. She’s really good at keeping things hidden, but I just know something’s wrong. I’d just… feel a lot better if you were able to look out for her.” 

Keeping an eye on what was essentially his boss’s wife’s sister wasn’t exactly how Simon imagined spending his time, but you seemed like a nice enough girl. Nodding his head, he shoved his hands in his pockets as he glanced behind his shoulder at the car you sat in. After all, there were only two things Simon Riley was good at doing; fighting, and protecting. 

“Consider it done.” 

Once Simon was done dropping Row off, his next objective was ensuring you got home. The drive to your apartment was much quieter than you had expected, but with it nearing two in the morning you were too tired to say anything coherent. Simon seemed to read this, and instead turned up the volume on whatever radio station Row had been listening to when she picked you up from work. 

You must have nodded off during the drive, because the next thing you knew, your door opened up and Simon stood with his hand stretched out for you to take. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you took his hand and allowed him to help you out of your seat before you started digging through your uniform for your keys. 

“Thank you for the ride, Simon,” you said once you had them in hand. 

“No problem,” he replied, though he didn’t look like he was getting ready to leave. It wasn’t until he glanced at the old, somewhat dilapidating, building that you realized he intended to walk you to your door, just like he had done with Row. “Which floor do you live on?” 

Each step that you took up to the third floor was grueling, and you would have taken the lift had it not been out of order for the last two months. Your feet throbbed with every movement, and by the time you made it to your door you were ready to pass out. Your keys slid into the lock with ease, and with a simple turn of the knob the door swung open to reveal your studio apartment. A few dim lamps were the only light source for the area, but it was more than enough for you to function in to get ready for bed. 

As you turned to face Simon, ready to dismiss him so you could get some well earned sleep, you noticed his  attention had been drawn to your door. Everything in that building was near ancient, but your door and windows were probably the worst. Peeling paint, and rusting brass plagued the door, but he seemed more interested in the plating on the frame. 

“Find something interesting?” you questioned. 

“More concernin’ than anythin’ else,” he muttered in response. His fingers brushed against the old metal plating, and his nails scraped at the screws holding it in place. “How long ago were these replaced?” 

You shrugged. “I’ve no idea.” 

“I’ll get you new hardware,” he said as he straightened himself up. “Someone could sneeze on the damn thing and it would fall over.”

There were a million words that flooded into your mind on why he didn’t need to do that, and you were certain they would have left your mouth had you not been so exhausted. Instead of trying to deny his words, all you could do was yawn as you glanced towards your bed, which had been shoved into the far corner of the room. You were about ready to pass out in the spot you stood in. 

“Get some rest, yeah?” he prompted as he placed his hand on the doorknob. 

You turned to face him with a smile, and for a moment you were at a loss for words. The light of the hallway casted a dark shadow on his face, and yet his look of quiet concern still appeared so soft. A small smile graced your lips before you were able to stop it, and you gave him a curt nod. 

“I will. Goodnight, Simon,” you said, voice nearly at a whisper. 

Even though he was a tall and intimidating man, you did not feel the least bit of fear as you watched him stand in your doorway. Any other time, you most likely would have felt trapped if a large man blocked you from exiting your home, yet there was nothing insidious about Simon. Especially not the small smile that managed to tug at his lips as he began to shut the door. 

“Sweet dreams, love.”

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #mafia!simon #mafia!ghost #mafia!141 #f!reader

[alexfromjersey]

ℂ𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕 | 𝕁𝕖𝕟𝕟𝕒 𝕆𝕣𝕥𝕖𝕘𝕒

Jenna Ortega x Black!Reader

summary: you and jenna have been in a relationship for the past eight years when suddenly everything starts to get rocky.

warnings: mature language, angst, violence, jenna doing some dirty shit

a/n: idk why but I wanted to write some angsty 😬? God forbid this ever happened to me cause I’ll be in jail…

“Who is she Y/n?”

That was the first thing you heard when you walked into your home after a long day at work. You just got off an agonizing 12-hour shift at the warehouse and all you wanted to do was shower, eat, and then sleep.

“Who is who Jenna?” You tiredly questioned as you pulled off your boots and work jacket.

First of all let me say, you can’t accuse me of all the things, you know you’re guilty of

“The woman you’ve been sneaking around with” Jenna answered and sipped her wine. Her eyes never leaving your figure.

You sighed, “Please don’t start this shit again tonight please I’m exhausted.”

That it is easy for you to blame everything on me

“I wonder why. Too exhausted from all the lying, the sneaking around, fucking her, and giving her all the attention that’s supposed to be for me” Jenna snapped.

“How many times do I have to say that I’m not fucking anyone, Jenna! What’s your problem? For the past two weeks, you’ve been accusing me of seeing some imaginary woman when all I do is work and come home to you. I don’t even go out with my friends anymore when will I have time to cheat on you” You questioned her loudly.

“How do I know you’re going to work? You could easily say it and go somewhere else” Jenna said.

“Jesus Christ you have my location on your phone!” You shouted.

“You could have left it at your job and left to go sleep with her” Jenna shrugged.

If that’s the case I should go have my fun and do all the things you say I do

You scoffed and just let out a laugh, “How fucked up in the head are you? Maybe I should do all this shit since you think that’s my grandmaster scheme. Drive almost an hour away to go to work, leave my phone at my job, miss out on a shift that makes me lose money, and go fuck a girl.”

You laughed and walked straight past the woman. You walked up the stairs and into your bedroom. Your patience was wearing thin and if you didn’t step away from her, you were going to say something to really hurt her feelings.

Girl, I can’t continue to take this from you

“I can’t fucking win with this girl man. Ever since she came back from filming that new movie, she’s been on a thousand. Accusing me of cheating and lying shit. I don’t do anything but go to work and go home” You ranted to your best friend Donny.

It was your day off, you sitting on your front porch watching the cars pass by when you felt the need to vent to someone. You haven’t seen Jenna since last night, you slept on the couch and when you woke up she was nowhere to be seen. She only left a note telling you that she was going to be hanging with Emma. You invited Donny over to hang out for a little.

“Maybe she just needs some of that groundbreaking pipe” Donny chuckled.

“I would if she let me touch her. She won’t let me go near her to initiate anything. Haven’t had sex since she left and I haven’t stepped out once” You stated.

“Oof you better than me. I would have cheated as soon as she left” Donny admitted unashamed.

“Yeah that’s why your ass is single” You chuckled.

Donny chuckled also and shrugged, “I’m just keeping it real.”

Suddenly, a message notification came from the top of your phone. It was from one of your co-workers that you used to go get a drink with.

When you say I was out with somebody else when my girl told me she saw you with some girl

Kai:

yo I just seen your girl

Your eyes furrowed at the message.

You:

seen her where?

Kai:

the shopping center a town over. I’m out with my daughter and she pointed her out. she walked away from some tall-looking man but I’m pretty sure it was her

At the mention of a man, you furrowed your eyebrows. She told you she was hanging with Emma today. You needed to get to the bottom of this. You found Jenna’s number and just as you were about to click it. A FaceTime call from her came.

You answered it and all you saw was the roof of a car. You go to say something but you hear the sound of a soft moan in the background. You put yourself on mute and turn your volume up.

“Oh my…you feel so good baby” You heard Jenna moan.

Donny’s eyes widen at the sound coming from your phone. He was in disbelief that this was happening to you.

Your heart starts beating faster and faster. Your hand kept clenching and unclenching in anger. You wanted to say something or do something but you were frozen.

Jenna’s moans continued to increase in volume and you saw the phone bounce from the movement of the car.

“I love you Luis” You heard Jenna shriek and the slapping sound increased. You then saw the phone move to a position that’ll forever be engraved in your mind. You quickly took a screenshot and hung up the phone.

It was silence for a few moments. Neither you nor Donny making a move or uttering a word. But your hands kept clenching and unclenching into fists and Donny noticed. He looks at you in concern but you pay him no mind.

You abruptly stood up from the chair and stormed into the house. Donny was hot on your heels concerned and slightly scared.

“Y/n?” Donny asked you but you ignored him. You practically run up the steps and burst into your shared room. You start to throw open all the drawers and throw out everything. You didn’t know what you were doing, just angry. You started throwing anything breakable into the wall.

The once organized and clean room was now in disarray. Clothes, shoes, and personal items were thrown and broken everywhere. Next, you moved to the walk-in closet. You threw every piece of clothing on the floor, moved the boxes from the top shelves, and threw shoes everywhere. But then you noticed a small LV purse, you got her for her birthday last year. It was tucked in a deep dark corner, you would have missed it if it wasn’t for one of her other bags falling out of place. You grabbed it, opened it, and dumped everything onto the bed.

What you saw officially confirmed your fears. It was Polaroid pictures of her and a guy you’ve met numerous times. It was one of her co-stars, Luis Gutierrez. Pictures of them kissing, at the state fair, and one in a bed.

The same bed you and her sleep in.

“Y/n…” Donny cautiously stepped towards it before his eyes landed on something on the bed. You look to where his eyes are and landed on a half of heart necklace with the initial “L” engraved into it.

After seeing that, you grabbed your jacket and left the disarrayed house with Donny following.

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

“Dude I think you should slow down on the drinking,” Donny said to you in concern.

“I think you should shut the fuck up and let me drink in peace” You snapped at the male and downed two more shots. That marks it as your fourth and fifth shot.

Donny didn’t take your words to heart either. He knew you were hurting badly. The only way you knew how to deal with that pain was by drinking until you passed out…a trait you learned from your mother.

You still didn’t feel drunk enough so you ordered another round of shots. Donny just watch you take them back like water.

“Eight years Donny…eight fucking years I gave her. All those years down the drain. She was accusing me of cheating when SHE was the fucking one sleeping with someone else!” Your voice raised in the building.

Thankfully, there weren’t many people in the bar but the ones who were turned to look at the commotion.

“I understand but calm down-”

“Man don’t tell me to fucking calm down. How the fuck am I supposed to be calm about this? My girlfriend accidentally FaceTimed me and practically showed me her fucking someone.” You laughed.

“Hey take that shit somewhere else” An angry customer demanded.

“Who the fuck is talking to you Mr. Clean” You insulted the man. He didn’t like that and he pushed you. You stumbled back into the counter but quickly recovered and pushed the man as hard as you could.

“Hey! Enough!” Donny shouted and pulled you away from the man.

“Get the fuck off me” You pushed Donny’s hands off you and walked out of the bar into the autumn weather.

You didn’t live far from the bar you were just at. You take some shortcuts and you’ll be home in 10 minutes but you wanted to take the scenic route which added an extra 8 minutes to the walk.

While you walked, you had to figure out your next move. You and Jenna share a house, a car, and a dog together. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t just up and leave. It wasn’t as easy for you as it was for her.

On your walk home, you stopped by a liquor store. You bought yourself a bottle of Tequila and started drinking it on your walk. You were well aware that you could potentially get arrested for public intoxication but you didn’t care.

Just when it seemed like you were calming down, God decided to hate you even more than he already did.

A honk of a horn and a shout of your name made you turn around to the source. A familiar red Audi pulled up next to you and parked. The man responsible for your current rage hopped out of the car with the woman you used to love.

“Y/n? What are you doing walking like this?” Jenna questioned.

“Yeah, and why you got a bottle of Tequila” Luis innocently questioned.

You stared at the male with a blank expression, “I’m clearing my head.”

Jenna scoffed, “Clearing your head for what? Got something you want to tell me.”

Your eyes cut to her and she didn’t make it noticeable but she jumped at the sight of your dark emotionless eyes.

“Nah I get it, sometimes you just need a few minutes to yourself. I get like that all the time especially when I’m home. I’m so used to…”

Your eyes stared into his before wandering down to his neck where you see a faint bruise there. Your eyes then land on a silver necklace, similar to the one you found around his neck. The necklace had a “J” initial engraved on it. Your hand tightens around the neck of the bottle.

Your eyes then glance at Jenna who was staring at Luis with a look she used to give you.

“Y/n?” Luis called.

His voice goes distorted and starts to fade away as a blinding rage starts to take over. Before you know it or stop yourself, you swing the bottle and it connects with Luis’ head.

“OH MY GOD!” Jenna screamed.

Luis fell against his car, blood dripping down the side of his head. You didn’t waste any time and hopped on top of him and landed punches to his face.

You were blinded by your anger, by the betrayal, and by the emptiness you had inside of you.

“Y/N STOP!” Jenna yelled and tried to pull off Luis but you wouldn’t budge. You kept landing punch after punch after punch to his face. Your hand went numb and blood coated it. You were finally tackled off the unconscious male by two police officers.

“Put your hands behind your back!” One of the officers yelled and forcefully pulled your arm back. They slap handcuffs on your wrists and harshly stand you up.

As you walk past, you see Jenna and a couple of bystanders standing over Luis. She then looked at you but you averted your eyes. You kept your face expressionless as you were loaded into the back of the cruiser.

Or maybe I, I should have done it, should have given away all my love or maybe I, I should have played you, 'cause you don't appreciate me, no

The loud sound of a jail buzzer wakes you up from your slumber. You open your eyes to realize that you’re still in a jail cell with three other people. You look down at your aching hands to see them bruise up and dried blood on them.

Blood that wasn’t yours. You’ve been in this cell sobering up for the past nine hours.

“Y/n! You’ve been bailed out” A guard shouted. You stood up from the seat and walked to the door. Another buzz was heard and the door swung open. You stepped out and followed the guard to the front.

Once you got to the front, you saw Jenna standing there with an angry and frustrated expression on her face. You sighed and you grabbed your things before signing some paperwork with much difficulty. But once you were finished, you didn’t say a word to Jenna, you just left the police station.

“Y/n? Hello? Are you going to fucking explain yourself? What the hell is wrong with you?” Jenna snapped at you.

You ignored her and continued walking. But Jenna wasn’t having that, she jogged in front of you and stepped in your path. You tried to walk around her but she just followed her.

“You almost fucking killed Luis, Y/n. Do you not realize that?” Jenna seethed.

“Leave me alone Jenna” You mumbled and finally went around her but she was at your side in a second.

“No, I won’t leave you! You beat Luis so badly that he had to go to the hospital for stitches and a concussion. You’re not explaining to me why!” Jenna yelled.

You let out an angry breath and your eyes glare at her. This makes Jenna jump a bit because she’s never seen you this angry before.

“You wanna know why? You wanna fucking know why I should have killed that fucking bastard! Here!” You shouted and you pulled out your phone and showed her a screenshot you took. You then pulled the pictures you took from her bag and threw them at her chest.

“You are a fucking hypocrite Jenna. You accused me of fucking cheating on you when in actual reality, you were the one sleeping with another man. I gave you eight years…eight fucking years of unconditional love. Eight years of being by your side. Eight years of being loyal. Not once did I ever give you a reason to question my loyalty to you!” You shouted at the girl.

Jenna’s eyes widen as the biggest secret of hers has finally been discovered.

“You made me feel like I was the bad guy. I stopped hanging out with my friends. I stopped going out to places. I did anything and everything I could to try to fix what was broken between us” You fumed as your voice cracked. Tears were threatening to spill down your cheeks as you finally let your emotions out.

“Y/n…I-”

“You had him in our bed. You fucking FaceTimed me in the middle of you sleeping with him in his car. How much more disrespect do you think I can tolerate?” You cried. The tears now falling freely down your face. But you wiped them aggressively from your face.

“I should have fucking cheated,” You said and left her standing in front of the police station.

a/n: so…I’m watching the vmas right now and SZA should have won song of the year but we ain’t gon get into that 🙂…

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x black!reader #Spotify

[trickphotography2]

Santa's North Island Delivery Service

Stuck at work, Bradley is missing his daughter's first Christmas Eve. But when the squadron decides to turn the hanger into Santa's Workshop, the pilot is able to sneak away to spend a little time with his girls. (Inspired by a true story; Rooster x Reader Christmas fluff)

Word count: 2.4K

Ao3 | Masterlist

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Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw was officially having the worst Christmas Eve. Not only was he stuck at work doing absolutely nothing, he was missing his daughter’s first Christmas Eve. 

With his boots kicked onto his desk, he leaned back in his chair and scrolled through the photos you’d sent him throughout the night. At eight months old, Bennett was too young to really know what was going on, but it didn’t make it suck any less. He wanted to see her lying under the tree, colored lights reflecting in her eyes. (He’d already set that picture as his home screen.)

“Hey, Lieutenant?” A knock on his door drew his attention, and he looked up to see Petty Officer Second Class Wagner, one of the head mechanics, standing there. 

“Yeah?” Rooster said, sitting up. Even though he outranked the enlisted man, Wagner was one of the most respected non-commissioned officers in the squadron. To cheer up the men stuck working the night shift, he’d organized a movie night after doing a Christmas movie bracket throughout the week - National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation had barely edged out Die Hard. 

“You got anything at home that needs to be assembled before going under the tree?” 

“Huh?” 

“Any gifts for the kiddo that need to be put together? We’re getting a list of stops together for the trucks.” Rooster gave him a confused look, which made the man chuckle. “We’re bored, so we figured we’d set up some presents for everyone’s kids in the hangar. The first group of guys are heading out now to get stuff, and then we’ll swap.”

“Oh, uh… yeah, I think there’s a couple things. Let me check with my girlfriend.” With a nod, Wagner left, leaving Rooster to stare at his phone. After a moment, he called you.

“Hey, babe,” you said, answering on the third ring. He could hear babbling in the background.

“Hey. Have you started getting things together to go under the tree?”

“Not yet. We’re just finishing up bath time, and then we’re gonna get cookies out for Santa and go to bed, aren’t we, Benny girl?” 

“Any chance you can hold off for about an hour?” Bradley asked, unable to keep from smiling at the sound of his daughter giggling. 

“Are you getting off work early?” It was hard to miss the sound of hope and excitement in your voice, and he hated to dash it.

“No, but I’m gonna run home and pick up some stuff.” You hummed.

“Okay. I’ll try and keep her up. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Alright, love you.”

“Love you too.” Hanging up the call, Bradley dropped his head and tapped the phone against his forehead. It was only your second Christmas together and the first as parents, and he was already missing things. You’d assured him it was okay and that you understood that his job sometimes meant spending time apart, but he hated it. 

“You’re a mean one, Benny Grinch,” you sang, gently bouncing your daughter as she howled. Letting your head fall back, you blew out a long breath. The crying fit couldn’t last forever. 

Though overly tired, she was fighting against going to sleep. It was a nightly battle, but one that Bradley usually helped to fight. You’d learned early on that he had what you lovingly called the Sleeper Hold - the minute Benny was tucked into her father’s arms, her eyes would start to close. Shifting her onto your shoulder, you glanced at your watch and sighed. As much as you wanted to wait to finish the bedtime routine until Bradley got home, it was getting late. “Alright, sweetie,” you cooed, grabbing your water bottle and retreating to the nursery. “Let’s get settled in.”

With the white noise machine and night light on, you settled into the rocking chair and lifted your shirt. Benny rooted for a moment before latching onto your nipple, making you inhale sharply at the pinch. Digging your toes into the carpet, you gently rocked back and forth, holding your daughter’s gaze as she ate. “Merry Christmas, Bennett,” you whispered, stroking her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed as she grunted. You closed your eyes, comforted by the warm weight of your daughter in your arms and the tugging at your breast.

“Hey.” The soft, raspy voice roused you from the trance you’d fallen into, and you lifted your head to see Bradley standing in the doorway.

“Hey,” you replied sleepily. His long legs ate up the space between you until he was beside you, leaning down to press his lips to your forehead. The familiar scratch of his mustache had your eyes fluttering closed again. 

“She done?” Bradley asked, a large hand coming down to cup your daughter’s head. 

“Should be soon.” At his touch, Benny startled from her doze, suckling hard and squirming. 

“You need anything?” 

“The sleeper hold in a minute to finish her off.” In the dim lighting, you saw Bradley grin before he leaned down again to brush his lips against yours. 

“I can do that.” As if on cue, Bennett released your breast, her breath a soft pant against your tender skin. Without a word, Bradley took her and settled her on his shoulder, patting her back. “Hey, Benny, were you good for mommy tonight?” He paced the nursery as you reached for one of the breast pads and cleaned up. When a loud burp sounded, you heard him chuckle. “That’s my girl.” 

You took a moment to appreciate the sight before you - your boyfriend in his tight khaki uniform cooing to your daughter as she rubbed her face into his shoulder to fight sleep. “How long do you have before you have to head back?”

“I’ve got about thirty minutes,” Bradley replied, turning on his heel to face you while pacing the room. “Benny girl, the sooner you go to sleep, the sooner Santa comes.”

“I’m not sure she’s old enough for that bribery to work yet.” His grin blinded as he kissed the back of her head, lightly bouncing her. 

“Gonna be fun when she is. We’ll track him with NORAD and everything.” Shaking your head, you stood and kissed both of their cheeks.

“You get her down, and I’ll start pulling out the gifts.”

“Put aside anything that needs to be put together or wrapped, and I’ll take it to the hanger. Apparently, that’s what we’re gonna do for the rest of the shift.” With a mocking salute, you left the nursery to the sound of him humming a lullaby. 

Ten minutes later, Bradley crept out of the nursery with the baby monitor in hand and joined you in grabbing the presents stashed around the house. The Daggers had dropped off their gifts throughout the week, and your family had mailed theirs. The craftsman that you’d helped Bradley purchase when he moved to North Island didn’t have the best hiding spots - it wasn’t exactly something he needed when you’d been his real estate agent - but with Benny so little, it was a problem for the future. “I think we may have overdone it,” you sighed, setting an unwrapped toy on the couch. The floor by the tree was already covered with wrapped presents.

“Nope, just enough,” Bradley chuckled, opening his arms. With a scoff, you stepped into his embrace, smiling as he swayed you. A dark spot decorated his shoulder, and you gently wiped away your daughter’s drool. “Gotta spoil my girls.”

“I really hope you kept to our budget for each other.” When he stayed silent, you pulled away and cocked an eyebrow. “Bradley Bradshaw, you stayed within the budget, right?” 

“I stayed within our Christmas budget,” he answered, his hands gliding down your back to cup your ass as his mustache tickled your throat. “Love you, baby.” 

“I love you too. Now, help me get all of this stuff under the tree. Did you want to do her stocking?” 

There was a whoop, and Bradley turned to see three guys crouched on the hanger floor cheering as they played with a racetrack. Another corner had been designated as the bike assembly space, an array of tools spread on the ground. One of the card tables had been dragged out from the break room, and it was covered with popcorn and an assortment of cookies. 

Unsure of where to go, Bradley walked towards a few other officers standing in the corner. “Hey, Rooster,” Captain “Taco” Bell said as he neared. “We were just talking about ordering pizza for everyone. Would you throw in?” 

“Yeah. Does anyone know if there’s a system here, or does it just go wherever?” 

“Wagner’s in charge,” Payback shrugged, nodding towards the NCO helping assemble a kitchen playset. “You got stuff for Benny?” 

“Just a few things. Brought some of the smaller stuff to wrap, too.” The two men quickly went to the Bronco to unload the gifts. Setting them in a pile with a couple of rolls of wrapping paper, they quickly assembled the play sets. A few other guys drifted by, helping to slot the plastic pieces together or offering to help wrap. Boxes piled up on one end of the hanger, and a sign-up sheet for folks who had larger gifts at the house that needed to be assembled was passed around. It looked like at least six families were getting swingsets or trampolines. Bradley idly wondered about setting up a swing in the backyard in the summer. In the meantime, he assembled the small slide that would be perfect for the living room.

The pizza arrived around 10:00PM, and there was a quick break. As they sat around the hangar, the Santa letter exchange happened. Wagner supplied blank papers with a printed Christmas border, and the parents swapped letters for others to write the replies. “This saved my ass one year,” Wagner shared. “My middle daughter was starting to question Santa, and boom - different handwriting. Got her for at least another year.” 

Around midnight, the squadron split into three sections - one to stay back and clean up the hanger, and two to deliver gifts and set up the presents. Bradley packed up his gifts and put them into the back of the Bronco. He was joined by three guys to set up a trampoline. Aided by headlamps, they were able to get it done in about an hour with only a few pinched fingers in the process, which was worth it to test it out. 

A trampoline was added to the Christmas list when Benny was a bit older. 

After touching base with Wagner, they headed to the second house to set up another trampoline before returning to the hangar. The third team left to assemble a swingset while they settled in to watch Die Hard for their last two hours on shift. 

Tucked away in his office, Bradley set about wrapping his last present. 

“Benny girl, look here!” you cooed, trying to get your daughter to look as you snapped pictures. Sitting in her father’s lap, she slapped the present in front of her and shrieked. Bradley laughed, quickly shifting his hold to wipe the drool from his wrist onto his sweatpants before retrieving his cup of coffee. Even with just two hours of sleep, he wasn’t willing to push back Christmas morning. After taking a sip, he set the mug down and took Benny’s hand, sliding it under the paper seam. Her hand flew up, ripping the paper.

“Good girl!” he chuckled, helping her tear the rest away to reveal stacking cups. It took about an hour to get through the presents, trading off the baby to get pictures. 

A small stack of presents surrounded you as Bradley opened his new electric razor. “Thanks, baby,” he said, crawling across the living room floor to kiss you. With one hand on Benny’s stomach to keep her upright in your lap, you cupped his cheek and ran your thumb along his scars.

“You’re welcome, babe. Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas.” Pushing onto his feet, he quickly shoved the wrapping paper into the trash bag and ran a hand through his hair. “That looks like almost everything.”

“Unless Santa left something somewhere in the back of a closet, it looks like we got it all.” 

“Hang on,” Bradley said, reaching around the back of the tree and retrieving a small box. “Looks like we missed one.” Holding it up, he glanced at the gift tag. “To Mommy, from Bennett.” 

“What?” Grinning, he sat down across from you and offered you the box, holding out his arms for the baby. A quick glance confirmed it was Bradley’s handwriting on the tag. “What’d you get me, Benny?” you asked, smiling as your daughter laughed when her father tickled her. Lifting it to your ear, you shook it gently and heard it rattle. Tearing away the paper, you laughed at the kid’s jewelry box. The ballerina twirled when you opened it to reveal a bunch of plastic necklaces, rings, and bracelets. “Oooh, fancy! I know what I’m wearing today,” you laughed, quickly putting on a pair of clip-on earrings and a necklace. 

“There’s a note,” Bradley said, leaning down to press his lips to Benny’s head. He looked a bit nervous.

And there was. Buried under the plastic was a folded-up piece of paper. Your mouth fell open when you read it.

I couldn’t get you jewelry this year, but Daddy could.

With wide eyes, you looked up to see Bradley grinning at you. “Open the drawer.” 

Slowly, you pulled the handle to reveal a diamond ring. “Bradley?”

“Will you marry me?” 

Later, when Bennett was asleep and the baby monitor was tossed onto the couch, Bradley watched the Christmas tree lights dance across your face as he took you apart slowly, savoring your taste. The ring sparkled on your finger when you pressed a hand to your mouth to muffle your moans as you shook apart under him, thighs bracketing his ears. 

Kissing his way up your body, Bradley paused to suck on a tender nipple, groaning when your nails raked his scalp. The tree shook when he continued his ascent, knocking the lower branches as he tried to reach your lips. “Fuck.” 

Laughing, you lifted your head to meet his gaze and wiped your thumb along his mustache, feeling your arousal coating the coarse hair. “Merry Christmas, Daddy.”

“Merry Christmas, Mama. Now get out from under the tree so I can unwrap my present in bed and fuck you properly.” 

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Author's Note: This was inspired by my dad and his squadron when we were stationed in Japan. He had to work overnight Christmas Eve and they ended up making a run to everyone's house on base to pick up gifts that needed to be set up. I definitely believed in Santa for another year when I didn't recognize the handwriting on the letter the Christmas morning.

The jewelry box and note are also pulled from real life. Dad went remote for a year (he was over in Korea and we were stateside) to ensure that we got orders to Florida, and came back just in time for Christmas. My sisters and I got mom the fake jewelry (we were all in high school/college) while Dad got Mom a new necklace.

Thank you for reading my (late) self-indulgent Christmas fic! I hope you enjoyed it, and my first foray into writing Rooster. And a major thank you to @mamachasesmayhem for encouraging me to write this, even if she's just dipping her toes into Bradley and would have preferred it to be Jake 😂

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster fanfiction

[heartthrobin]

amuse and romance me like you do

steve harrington x female!reader

wc: 12k

warnings: some swearing, idiots in love, jealous!Steve, slow burn(ish), they’re so in love it’s gross, neighbor!reader, Dustin Henderson being a little shit

an: i wrote this a while ago but i’m v proud of it :)

summary: you wanted to bring your videos back on time, you really did, but somehow the threat of a fine was worth it to see Steve Harrington's amused frown when you waltzed in late. besides, he was more than welcome to start fining you - but that meant he'd miss the feeling of how his body turned to goo when you gave him that little smirk, knowing you'd gotten away with it once again.

Summer in Hawkins was near unbeatable. The mornings were scorching, enough that the local pool was packed to capacity with screaming kids and nonchalant parents lounging close by - but by evening: Hawkins would cool to a warm breeze up over the roofs of suburbia.

It was almost six on one such balmy Thursday night, the wind slipping in through the open window as your mom's Toyota sped down the longest strip of road leading almost to the edge of town.

You loved Thursdays. Mondays and Thursday, actually.

They were the two nights you didn't work the evening shift and consequently the two nights Claudia Henderson attended bingo nights down at the diner on Maple.

She'd called you up, as she did every Monday and Thursday, just before five.

“Oh dear, won't you come watch Dusty Bun for the night? Just for a couple hours, I won't be late.”

She always was, but that didn't matter.

The Henderson's had lived next door for almost eight years, since Dustin was no taller than your knee.

"Of course Ms Henderson, I'll be there by six."

You'd agreed, like you did the week before and the week before that. You and Dustin were slowly making your way through the slasher horror section of the video store, promising to never mention it to his mother who would undoubtedly collapse in shock at the notion.

It's how you found yourself pulling with a loud screech and a lurch into the open parking spot right in front of Family Video.

The center parking lot was empty, spare for a red truck near the back of the lot that you were sure had been parked there for weeks.

There was a video store closer to your neighborhood, Mr Video, but going to find your flicks there would rob you of the opportunity to see Steve Harrington's exasperated expression when you slammed the video against the counter late, again.

You sold the bit by complaining that there wasn't as big a selection at Mr Video when anybody ever asked.

The copy you'd rented on Monday afternoon stared up at you from the passenger seat. A Nightmare on Elm Street: Freddy's Revenge.You grinned at it.

"Store policy, you need to bring the video back 48 hours after renting."

You were pushing it on hour 76.

Unfazed, and stomach sloshing with warm, soft excitement for your biweekly encounter with your favourite head of hair in Hawkins, you grabbed the movie off the seat and slid out the car.

The front door jingled behind you, alerting not only the woman standing in the sci-fi section near the window, but also the man behind the counter.

Steve looked up from where he was flipping through a three-month old TV guide, looking painfully bored.

When his eyes met yours, they flickered between expressions quickly before settling on unimpressed.

He leaned to push himself off the counter, glancing dramatically down at the watch over his wrist.

"Punctual, as always."

A grin slid over your lips, using the case of the movie in your hand to fan at the threads of sweat tickling down the side of your neck.

"Listen, I've got a real reason for bringing it late this time—"

He didn't offer you the chance to finish what you both knew was a lie. "And I'd love to hear it if I knew it wasn't bullshit."

You placed the video down onto the counter sliding it over to him, trying to look as nonchalant as possible while quietly soaking in the light freckles speckled over the bridge of his nose.

"What can I say, you know me too well, Harrington."

As was the curse of Hawkins High, you never knew Steve in your time there despite being the same age. He ruled blindly in his kingdom as King Steve while you gravitated in the outer-lying fields of friendship. It wasn't until his maroon BMW started to frequent the driveway between your place and the Henderson's that you were reminded - or in Steve's case, made aware of - each other's existence.

"A good thing too. I didn't have much of an idea where I was gonna go with that story anyways."

He rolled his eyes, but the curl of amusement at the edges of his lips was impossible to miss. A lick of pride bit at your beating heart.

"Right." He grabbed the video from the counter, dropping it into an unseen bin by his feet. "What're you and the little twerp watching tonight?"

Your chin fell into your hands, glancing over his shoulder at the Horror Section near the back of the store, not entirely ready to leave the desk for a proper look and risk losing the light waft of the Dior cologne drifting from over the countertop.

"We've finished the Elm Street stuff ..." you huffed, squinting to read the label off another bloody cover. "Sledgehammer?"

His nose crinkled at you, "Don't. It's shit."

Lifting your face from your hands, your head tilted up to meet his eyes. "Any suggestions then, Scorsese?"

A funny expression ghosted over his face and you watched as his bottom lip was sucked in between his teeth. You almost frowned.

"Well, uh," He fidgeted with a drawer behind the desk, "A new one came in this week, I thought you guys might—might like it so I held onto it for you."

His hand emerged with a blue and red cover on a video, setting it into the space between you - shrugging as far from nonchalantly as you'd ever seen from Steve Harrington.

Was he nervous?

Your hand closed over the copy and you tried to hide how your heart lurched when your fingers brushed over his.

"Slaughter High?" You eyed it, glancing periodically up between the cover and Steve's slowly but surely reddening face.

"I thought y—Dustin might like it."

He was right. It looked like the exact ratio of gore to cheesy plot-line that Dustin adored, that you mostly watched from behind your hands.

"Saving movies for us? This feels like a desperate attempt at gaining an invite to the exclusive Henderson Movie Night." You pressed lightly, watching as Steve's mood dissolved again into Mr Charisma.

"Please," he rolled his eyes, "if I wanted to be there I would. Besides, it takes only one little phone call to good old Claudia to end this whole little horror-fest of yours."

You gasped theatrically, pulling the film up to your chest, "you wouldn't dare."

"Try me."

Setting your hands back on the counter you giggled softly, "You blackmail all the girls that come in here or is it just the pretty ones?"

Steve's cheeks rung red again, you loved the shade on him.

"Just the pretty ones." It was accompanied by that smile you were sure could win Nobel prizes.

A tight pang echoed in your chest.

It was easy to tease him, to pretend for even a minute that maybe he could look at you with the same fondness that forced your eyes over the smile at the corners of his mouth, or the rogue strands of hair that stuck to his forehead in the Indiana heat.

What wasn't quite as easy was forcing aside the nauseous gurgle in your stomach when you noticed how the prettiest girls from every corner of the state would come to lean over the Family Video countertop just as you were doing now, pop their bubblegum in his face and send their cherry lipgloss smiles just to melt him all over.

They were his type, of course.

King Steve had always loved the princesses.

The AC unit wheezed loudly somewhere behind you, forcing you back to where you stood.

Steve was watching you carefully.

You couldn't help noticed how close your hands rested by his on the desk. If you just stretched out your index finger, his would be in yours. You pulled them back slowly, grabbing the movie as you did.

"It looks good," you smiled, motioning to the movie. "I'm sure Dustin's gonna love it."

Steve nodded slowly, "Great. Don't forget to bring—"

But you had already turned on him, half a foot out the door and laughing loudly over your shoulder, "To bring it back on time, yeah yeah I will!"

The door shut loudly, the jingle of the bell against the hinge echoing in the space you'd left. He sighed loudly, forehead coming down against the counter.

"You're pathetic, you know that right?" Robin's voice washed over him from where she had no doubt been lurking in the staff room, following the interaction with her ear against the door.

Not lifting his head, but rather shifting it to offer her a side eye, he groaned: "thanks for the vote of confidence, Robs."

The smell of burnt popcorn hit your senses like a truck when you pulled the door open to the Henderson household. You coughed against your elbow.

"Dustin!"

The teen peeked his head into the hallway from the kitchen, smiling sheepishly. "Hey, I'm just ... sorting out the snacks."

You gave him a sharp look before tossing the video onto the couch, "If you burn down the house your mom is never gonna let me come by here again, you know that right?"

"Yeah, yeah stop being dramatic." He called from the kitchen as you flopped back against the couch. Your eyes found purchase on the blank yellow wall above the television.

The image of Steve in that cute little Family Video vest swirled around in your brain and you were suddenly plagued by the question of how he tasted. Those puffy pink lips, when they twisted into an amused frown. You were sure his kiss would be minty, or maybe sweet from the Twizzlers that were constantly in his hands—

"What you get?" You jumped when Dustin fell into the spot beside you, a tub of nearly black popcorn in his lap.

You eyed it wearily, slowly picking up the video and flashing it in his line of vision.

The teen grabbed it greedily, almost tipping the tub over his knees, raking over the cover. "Hey! This is brand new, I heard Lucas saying that people threw up in the cinema because it's so scary."

He turned to you, "How did you get it? Everyone's gonna want their hands on this."

"It was Steve actually." You leaned over him to reach the packet of Skittles he'd discarded by the arm of the couch, ripping it open. "When I got there he said he'd held it for us, that you'd like it."

Dustin's eyebrows tightened, "That's weird."

"I think it was sweet of him." You sunk further back in the couch, trying not to look too dreamy eyed when Dustin's curious gaze worked over you.

"Ew."

You punched him lightly in the shoulder, laughing. "It's not like that dipstick."

The growing darkness allowed for the disguise of your reddening cheeks.

"Now go put in the movie before I make us watch Golden Girls."

Dustin stood to slot the video into the machine, the television lighting up.

It carried on like that for weeks, well into July and past the end of the Summer break for the high schoolers.

Family Video wasn't as busy as it was with the kids back at school, the hours dragged between shifts with seemingly endless rounds of Crazy Eights and rewatches of whatever romantic 60's flick Robin had chosen that week.

But come Monday or Thursday, Steve would linger excitedly near the counter. Robin would tease him, "you need to pluck up the balls and just ask her out".

He'd roll his eyes at her.

"I've told you, it's not that easy."

It wasn't.

Girls came in every day, leaning indulgently over the counter with smiles to pursue him - and he loved it, don't get him wrong - but somehow twice a week you'd skip into the shop with that grin that made his words fold over each other and his heart feel like it was beating from his throat and he couldn't remember the names of a single one of the others who'd slid their numbers flirtatiously across the desk.

He wasn't sure he was ready for the destruction your rejection would subject him to.

So around five o' clock every Monday and Thursday, when your beat up Toyota screeched into the parking spot in front of the shop, he'd beg Robin to keep her mouth shut for just five minutes and she'd shrug, grinning like the cat who caught the canary before mumbling, "Whatever you say, Casanova."

The door would jingle and you'd come bouncing in with your tank tops and denim shorts or sometimes with a skirt flirting at the tops of your thighs - the image of which would keep Steve up at night - and you'd lean over the counter with the overdue video in your hand.

Except one day you're pushing the door open with your hip, cradling a suspicious pink box, with the video balancing on top.

Steve perked up, tossing aside the Rubik's cube he'd been pretending to be busy with in the moments between you parking the car and stepping into the shop.

You slid the video across the desk at him. The Hills Have Eyes.

"Hi." You grinned before peering over his shoulder, "Hey Robin."

Robin glanced back from where she was restocking the snack shelf. "Hey."

"You know I'm gonna have to start charging you late fees for these eventually, right?" He picked up the video, no substance to his threat at all.

"I know, I know. That's why—" you set the pink box carefully up on the counter, "I've brought a peace offering."

Steve's eyes met yours, eyebrow pinching in confusion. "What is it?"

You rolled your eyes and Steve couldn't help notice the length of your eyelashes, how they fanned at your cheeks: "Well there's only one way to find out, smarty pants."

He lifted the lid of the box, allowing the sugary sweet scent to fill his lungs. Five pink and white donuts stared brightly up at him.

His eyes widened in delight and a warmth flooded his stomach at the thought of you going out to buy pastries just for him.

Steve's silence seemed to make you nervous, because you began speaking quickly into the space: "They're from the Yellow Piglet, you know the diner on Maple? They're really good, I didn't know if you guys were allergic or—"

"No, no." He cut you off, feeling his cheeks warming. "They look delicious."

Robin had apparently heard the commotion, or perhaps sensed the arrival of food - Steve always had a suspicion that her nose was too good to be human - and appeared at his side.

"Donuts!" She beamed, "For us?"

You laughed. "Yep, both of you look like you're not being fed at home. Thought I might thicken you up."

Maybe it was his imagination, but Steve swore he felt your eyes warm over his biceps after you spoke. His eyes flickered unintentionally to your hips, unable to stop himself from wondering if it was the donuts that helped you fill out the sides of those shorts so nicely.

Robin grabbed a pink one out the box, diving into it before moaning around the mouthful - crumbs dripping over her vest.

"This is the best thing that's ever happened to us at work."

She held it up to Steve, offering him a bite. He shook his head, but didn't miss how your gaze flickered between him and his colleague during the small interaction. Your shoulders deflated slightly and his stomach sank.

You coughed awkwardly, avoiding meeting his eyes again, "I'm glad you like them. I think they're worth at least another month's worth of late returns."

"A month? That's a bit generous isn't it?"

"Taste one and you'll change your mind, Harrington. I tried one in the car on the way here, couldn't resist."

His eyes found the two white sprinkles at the edge of your lips, evidence of your indulgence, and fleetingly wished he could suck them off.

Instead, he pulled out a heavily iced donut from the box and bit tentatively into it. Fuck. It really was good.

He tried to catch his sigh before it escaped him, he wasn't quick enough, but the amused smirk you sent him over the table was enough compensation for him to forget it.

"Fine," he mumbled around a mouthful. "A month."

"Great." You skipped past the desk over to the horror section, reaching up to the top shelf to grab The Hills Have Eyes II, while Steve's mouth watered around the donut over the stretch of thigh that peeked out from under your shorts as you reached. Allowing him to commit the image of the deep fold between your ass and thigh to memory.

That was before Robin dug her elbow into his side, meeting him with a stern look that said "you're being a fucking creep".

Before he could retort, you were back at the desk, flashing the cover at him. "I'll take this one."

He quickly typed in the name and you were on your way again, only the jingle of the door left behind and the light whiff of your perfume to plague Steve for the rest of the day.

Robin bumped his shoulder, starting on her second donut, "That one's a keeper, Harrington."

He couldn't help agree.

Besides Mondays and Thursdays, Steve also loved Saturdays. It was his one off day a week, also the day he'd take Dustin down to the Frozen Frenzy and buy him a tub of frozen yoghurt, allowing him to practically overfill the cup with toppings.

They'd drive from there to the park close to the Harrington household where they'd sit in Steve's car and he'd listen to Dustin ramble about how he hated his maths teacher or how Suzie was teaching him how to code on the computer while he sipped on a strawberry milkshake.

He was listening mostly attentively, eyes trained on the squirrel running up the side of a tree a few feet from the car, but perked up at the mention of your name.

"—she said there's a horror festival in Indianapolis in October and that we could go if I wanted. The guy who played Jason in Friday the 13th is apparently gonna be there."

Steve nodded as solemnly as he could manage, looking at the side of Dustin's face now.

"And... and you guys have fun together?"

Dustin scooped another mouthful of caramel yoghurt and sour worms into his mouth, nodding. "Yeah. She's the best: let's me stay up as late as I want, drives me wherever I wanna go. And she's funny."

Pulling out the straw to mix the remnants of milkshake at the bottom of his cup, Steve nodded again - trying to look casual when he opened his mouth again.

"Does she ever ... y'know, ask about me?"

Dustin's head whipped towards him. "Why?"

"What do you mean why, Henderson. She's ... she's cute I like her."

The curly hair atop Dustin's head trembled as he shook it, muttering vehemently "Oh no, no, no, you're not going for her."

"Why not!" Steve twisted in his seat to face the fifteen year old, "I treat girls well."

"Yeah," he scoffed, "for two and a half dates before you stop taking their calls. All you're gonna do is lead her on and then upset her when you get bored."

Steve's jaw slackened, taken aback by Dustin's scathing, yet mostly honest, review. "Jesus, tell me what you really think Henderson."

"Am I wrong?"

The straw of his milkshake became suddenly interesting again and Steve began to fiddle with it. "No, I mean not entirely, but I ... I wouldn't do that to her."

He could feel Dustin's heated gaze against the side of his neck, "I don't believe that."

"Listen, I ... I really like her, okay? I think she's cool." God, he never sounded this damn pathetic in high school. When did all of this get so difficult? "Just tell me, does she ever mention me?"

Dustin hesitated, "I don't know ... I guess she talks about you when she comes back from getting the movie every week. She said you're sweet."

Steve grinned, a familiar wave of confidence washing over him. "She thinks I'm sweet?"

"That's what I said."

He leaned back against the headrest, bringing his milkshake to slurp at it noisily. "Sweet. I can work with sweet."

That very same night, all the way across Hawkins: you were on the way back from work when your hand-me-down ride pulled to a spluttering stop just a couple miles from home.

Smoke billowed from underneath the hood and you knew better than to go prying beneath it.

After ten minutes of kicking furiously at the wheel and wiping away angry tears, you elected to walk half a mile to the nearest public phone, dropping in a quarter to ring up the mechanic two streets down from your neighborhood.

You didn't wait long. By the time you'd reached your car again and slid back into the driver's seat, turning up the evening radio, a tall white pick up truck pulled to a stop beside you.

Not that you'd been entirely sure what to expect of the man to step out the car, but you almost choked on thin air when the beast of a man climbed from the truck.

"Hi, I'm Ralph," he stuck a large, black-stained paw at you and you took it clumsily. "You must be ..."

You nodded, too embarrassed to attempt words just yet.

Ralph was tall, ginormous actually. He towered over you with big meaty shoulders covered in colorful ink and a thickset beard that wrapped over the borders of his face before dipping into the edges of the long mane of hair atop his head.

He smiled, with a brilliant white set of teeth too, before moving to work. He attached your pathetic car to the truck before offering you a lift home.

The car ride was short but Ralph was endearing, he asked what you did and sounded interested when you mentioned your job at the record store, you asked about his work as a mechanic and he laughed heartily at your dizzy attempts at jokes.

When the truck pulled to a park outside your house, he promised it would be sorted before Monday.

You thanked him, batting your eyelashes maybe a little heavily and offering a soft brush at his arm before beginning to move out the car.

He stopped you before the door shut, "Listen, I'd love to take you out sometime if you'd like. Maybe after you pick up the car, Monday night?"

Your eyes glossed dreamily, was this giant piece of smoking man meat really asking you out?

Wait.

Monday night?

Steve's freckled cheeks came sharply into the view of your mind's eye.

You couldn't do Monday, not when it's the only time you get to visit him—

The image of Steve was replaced by the gum popping, cherry lipgloss wearing blonde you'd seen him leave the local cinema with only a couple months ago.

Your stomach twisted nastily, but you fixed your face before Ralph could pick up on the inner turmoil.

"I'd love to."

Monday came quickly. Steve had spent the better part of the weekend working over what he was going to say when you came into the store. He picked out his favourite blue polo and spent an extra twenty minutes on his hair. He even slid a pack of gum into his pocket.

Robin teased and picked at him, but seemed glad at the prospect of a final end to all his pining.

"Thank god, maybe I can get a break from those pathetic googly eyes you have whenever she comes in here."

Nervousness ate at Steve all day, he tried to busy himself with packing away returns or alphabetizing the customers names on the computer but as the minutes ticked closer to five, he could feel the buzz on the surface of his skin.

"I don't know why I'm so worried about this." He muttered irritably over his shoulder at Robin who was sitting rewinding tapes on the floor, "I've asked out a thousand girls. Those all mostly went well."

"Yeah but you've never been scared that one of them was gonna say no."

Steve's knuckles tapped agitatedly at the counter. "Right. Whatever, but she's not gonna say no. I'm gonna woo her."

"Woo her?"

"Woo her."

As slowly as dripping honey, five o' clock arrived. Steve's eyes flickered between the door and the clock.

And just as slowly, it disappeared again.

Five. Half past. Ten to. Six thirty.

You'd never been this late. Twice a week for going on three or so months, at around five pm you'd step into Family Video. Into the view of Steve's googly eyes and churning stomach.

The sun was beginning to set over Hawkins, basking the little video store in an orange light that only served to make the yellow painted walls seem brighter.

Steve could feel Robin's little sympathetic glances at him from the back of the store and they were making his hair stand on end.

He chewed his bottom lip carefully, but there wasn't a rumble of even a single engine on the one road into the center.

After another ten minutes of tapping the counter loudly, he huffed and pulled the phone closer to him from down the desk. He slipped his wallet out from his back pocket where he kept a small list of important numbers, a list he'd been hoping to add yours to by the end of the day, and dialed up the number for the Henderson Household.

The phone rang six times before a resounding click echoed over the line and Dustin's unmistakable voice streamed through.

"Hello?"

"Dustin, it's Steve."

He could feel Robin's gaze on the back of his neck: "Oh. Hey Steve, what's up?"

"Listen, is— are you guys not having movie night tonight, because—"

"Oh, no we're not ... uhm, she's not here."

Something twisted nastily in Steve's stomach.

"What do you mean she's not there? Where is she?"

Robin approached him from behind, leaning up against the other side of the phone to try catch the snippets of conversation.

"She went out on a date, said I could stay home alone as long as I didn't tell my mom—"

"A-A date?" Steve choked and Robin gasped beside him, "a date!" she mouthed.

Steve could feel blood rushing to his brain and suddenly his fingertips were ice cold, the phone trembled for a second in his hand.

"Yeah."

He ran a tight hand through his hair, ruining in seconds the hairdo he'd spent almost an hour on that morning. He struggled for a words, "A date with who? How could you let her go on a date—!"

"She said it was a mechanic from I don't know, and what do you mean how could I? You didn't ask her out so what was I supposed to do!"

Steve barely registered the commiserative pat against his shoulder.

"Did she says what time she'll be back?"

"She's my babysitter, not the other way around. I don't know."

Steve sighed, dropping his forehead into his palm and pressing tightly against the sides of his forehead. "Thanks dipshit. Do you know what time they left?"

"Uh ... a big white pickup was parked outside at like three. I saw her get inside."

The tick of the clock pulled Steve's gaze towards it. Quarter past seven. Their shift ended at seven thirty.

"I'm coming over, I'll be there in twenty minutes."

The phone slammed back against the dial before Dustin could respond. He turned to Robin, who's eyes were wide in unease: like Steve was a wild animal that could attack at any moment.

"Come let's pack the last of this shit away, we're going to Dustin's."

The last of the videos were packed haphazardly onto the shelves, Robin wasn't even sure they were in alphabetical order and didn't dare mention when Steve put Sixteen Candles on the Sci-Fi shelf.

Within ten minutes she was thrown into the passenger seat of his BMW and Steve was screeching down Kilney Road towards Dustin's neighborhood.

It was dark by the time they pulled up. Steve marched up the driveway, barely attempting a knock before throwing the door open. Dustin leapt up from the couch where he'd been lazily channel surfing, the half finished pizza he'd bought with the money you'd left him sitting on the table.

Steve situated himself at the kitchen window, the one over the stove that looked directly onto your front yard.

"Steve, she could be still another couple hours." Dustin pressed, really just wanting to go lay back down on the couch.

"If she comes home at all." Robin quipped. It earned her a hard, hot glare.

"Jeez." She mumbled.

Dustin turned to look up at her, "I didn't know he liked her that much." He whispered.

"God, you have no idea," she sighed, "it's like watching a kicked puppy every time she leaves the store."

After a short-lived and futile attempt at consoling Steve to at least come sit on the couch, Dustin and Robin fell in front of the television.

The teen put on one of his old copy of The Fox and The Hound and Robin picked at the pepperoni on his forgotten pizza.

Steve sulked by the window. He periodically called back self-pitying remarks at them like "you could've at least told me you know, before I called!" every twenty or so minutes.

They generally ignored him.

"You think she'd make me a bridesmaid?" Robin asked Dustin offhandedly.

He shrugged, "She's cool. I'm sure if you asked nicely."

"Sweet."

The movie was drawing to a close near nine thirty - they could tell Steve had been watching from the doorframe of the kitchen when he gasped at the Fox being caught, but they didn't mention it - when the rumble of a truck echoed down the street outside the house.

"Henderson!"

Dustin and Robin perked up, leaping off the couch and skidding towards the kitchen where Steve was practically crawling over the stovetop.

A dirty white truck pulled up into the driveway outside your house before stilling.

"That's the one." Dustin whispered, leaning to turn off the kitchen light and avoid being spotted.

Steve was biting furiously at the insides of his cheeks, his eyes trained on the car.

The windows were tinted and despite the engine being off, there was no movement from the car. The lack of a visual was setting Steve on edge.

"You think they're making out?" Robin mumbled.

Steve didn't even look when he pinched her hard in the arm.

"Ow!"

"Hey, hey, look!" Dustin's forehead pressed against the window, forming round circles of mist against the glass.

The truck was big, but absolutely nothing compared to the man that stepped out of it.

"Holy shit."

Steve swore he felt the ground tremble when the man stepped out the car onto the pavement, tall as a house with enough muscles to rip down a billboard.

"What the fuck—" He squeaked.

The man was rounding the car, obviously to open your door. Oh, and he has manners too. Asshole, Steve though bitterly.

"He's fucking huge!" He turned to Robin, "How am I supposed to compete with Goliath!"

She spluttered, "I—"

"Look, there she is." Dustin was pressing a greasy finger to the glass.

Steve looked and almost wished he hadn't.

You walked beside the mountain man, smiling up at him in the prettiest little sundress Steve had ever seen. His knees buckled beneath him. It was short, hiding just the tops of your thighs, and covered in a green flower print that reached down to your wrists.

"Woah, she looks really pretty."

A heavy wave of self-pity sloshed around in the pit of his stomach, almost forcing up his lunch.

You looked pretty every day, beautiful, but the thought of you dressing up in a tiny little dress and the black eyeliner that he could make out all the across the yard for another man in a way he wished you would do for him was about to make him sick.

He'd probably dream about that dress for the next hundred nights. Maybe you had others, in different colours.

God knows what he'd do to you in one of them.

After the date he'd dreamed of taking you on, in the driver's seat of his car. He'd kiss you the way a girl as mettlesome as you is meant to be kissed, maybe pull you into his lap and run his hands all the way up those massive thighs, up past the edge of that dress—

"I don't know what to tell you Harrington. This isn't looking good for you, pal." Robin pulled him sharply out of his fantasies.

You and the mechanic neared your doorstep. Steve's heart clenched tightly in his chest. This would be around the time he himself would try for at least a soft peck.

"It's make or break now." Dustin whispered.

The pair stopped, your hand on the door as you looked up to meet the massive man's face.

Steve sucked in a sharp breath when he leaned his hairy face down closer to your level and thought he might faint when you pressed up onto your tippy toes to leave a kiss on his—

"Cheek!" Dustin yelped happily, "She kissed him on the cheek, that's good!"

Steve let out a long breath, a fraction of warm relief dripping into his bloodstream.

"Yeah, a cheek kiss is good." Robin nodded, arms supporting her against the stone countertop. "If she really liked him she would've kissed him properly."

Steve knew that Robin maybe wasn't the best person to offer any accurate commentary on a heterosexual encounter such as this, but he was too busy clinging to any sense of hope to bother mentioning it.

When he looked up again, the man was heading back towards his car and you'd already disappeared into the house. The three of them watched as the living room light flickered on in the distance.

Steve slid off the counter, dragging his feet towards the couch before falling back onto it - as if he'd just completed a half marathon.

Robin and Dustin squished in beside him.

"There's hope." Dustin said.

"Definitely hope." Robin concurred.

"Hope? Did you just see the same man I did? How am I supposed to compete with ..." he motioned vaguely over his shoulder, "he looks like a gladiator!"

"You just have to ask her out before their next date, if she even wants one!" Robin consoled, leaning over to begin picking at the abandoned pizza again.

"Yeah, he just took her on a date, he didn't propose to her. There's plenty of time."

Steve nodded slowly, allowing their wisdom to sink in - trying to ignore the fact that he was taking advice from a teen boy who's girlfriend lived across the country. "You're right ... there is hope."

An idea began to sink into his pretty little head.

The two on either side of him sighed gratefully. Dustin picked up the remote again, pressing play on the movie.

"Great. Now let's finish—"

"Invite me to your movie night." Steve turned to face Dustin, hands meeting the boy's shoulders.

"W-What?"

"Yeah, it's perfect! You invite me, I come over, then you make some excuse and then buzz off to Lucas' or something."

Robin looked affronted, cheeks full of dough, "We have work?"

"I'll call in sick." He waved vaguely at her. "Dealing with Keith is the least of my problems. Dustin?"

The teen's face twisted in consideration, "I... don't know how I feel about pawning my neighbor off on you."

"Come on, please?" Steve's tone dripped in sincerity, "I'll treat her well, I swear."

Dustin sucked in a breath, "Fine—"

All three of them jumped when the ring of the phone against the wall split into the room between them.

"That's probably her." Dustin remarked, climbing up off the couch again and quickly peeling the phone off the dial. "Hello?"

You sighed against the line, grateful that the poor boy was still alive.

"Dusty Bun," you teased, tugging unconsciously at the chain around your neck. "did you survive the night without me?"

He laughed a little against the line, "Yep. Everything is fine."

You smiled, a little bit sad that you'd missed out on your night with your favourite boy. "Hopefully not too fine, or I'll be out of a job."

"Right, sorry. What I meant to say was that it was barely survivable. You'll be here on Thursday, though, right?"

Leaning against the wall you nodded before remembering that he couldn't see you, "Of course. We need to finish Psycho."

Glancing out the window from your living room, you noticed the kitchen light off at the Henderson's. You plucked at the edge of your dress, the question scalding your tongue:

"Dustin, is Steve there?"

You'd recognize that maroon BMW anywhere, seen it already as Ralph pulled into your driveway.

You suspect that it was the reason you ducked to kiss his cheek when he was obviously intent on your lips.

"No!" Dustin choked against the other side of the line, "He's not—"

There was a scuffle on his side and you couldn't help grin, hushed voices echoed in the background and the phone rustled against what you could only assume was Dustin's shirt.

"Well, his car is parked in front of your house—"

"I mean yes." The boy's voice cut through the line again, "Steve and Robin are here, they came to check on me."

An uneasy feeling settled in your chest. Had Steve seen you and Ralph?

You shook the thought off firmly. Good, you hoped he saw you.

A part of you wanted to march over to Dustin's, to step in there looking as good as you did tonight. After you put effort into your hair and makeup, dressing a little bit up for the evening, and maybe parade a little bit in front of Steve but you knew it was only going to hurt the progress you'd made by accepting Ralph's date in the first place.

Steve Harrington was the King of Women in Hawkins and if he could have his pick of the princesses, you knew he wouldn't pick you.

You'd feel nothing less than sick to your stomach and end up crying into your pillow if you went in there and Steve didn't bat an eyelash in your direction.

"Okay good. Well then I don't need to come check on you, right? You should be heading to bed soon, there's school in the morning."

"Uhm, yeah I'll be fine—" He cut himself off with a groan, like he'd been hit. There was hushed murmurings before he returned to the line. "So, how was the date?"

Your mind flickered back over the evening, how Ralph came to pick you up, took you to a nice restaurant in town and made good conversation. Made you laugh.

He wasn't Steve, but then again, nobody was.

"It was good. Really good." You sighed against the line, from exhaustion or content you weren't sure. "I think I'm gonna see him again. He said he rides motorbikes, I told him how you said you'd like to try and he mentioned that he could take you for a spin whenever you want?"

"Ah, awesome!"

You giggled, "Yeah, I thought so too. You should get to bed, bud. I'll drop you at school in the morning if you like? To make up for my absence?"

"Sure."

Even biting your lip couldn't help the words that slipped, "Tell Steve I said goodnight. A-and Robin, tell them both."

"Will do. Night."

The phone clicked loudly against the dial and you pushed off the wall, beelining towards the stairs.

You took an extra long shower, hoping that Steve and Robin would leave in the time you were busy so you wouldn't be tempted to watch by the window from your room.

They did.

The shutters blocked the last of the light from the street when you dropped them against the pane, steeping the room in darkness.

You sighed loudly before sliding into bed, pulling a pillow closer to your chest.

The night had been nice, it really had. Ralph was sweet, he was doting and made noises at all the right parts in your stories. Yes, maybe he was a little boring, not many of his interests aligning with yours.

He spoke about cars and motorbikes and you tried to be interested, the fact that he was willing to entertain Dustin was attractive in its own right.

At the end of the night, before you climbed out the car, he'd asked if you wanted to go to a movie on Friday night. You'd agreed.

He wasn't Steve, but he was nice. And for God's sake you wanted to be treated nicely for a little bit. Was it so wrong to just want to be looked after? To hold someone's hand and have a warm body beside you when Winter inevitably crawls over Hawkins?

The thought was enough to let you close your eyes and slip off into sleep, allow you to pretend that Steve Harrington doesn't matter.

The days that followed were good. Ralph rang the next night, just to check up on you, your car was finally cooperating again and your shifts at the store had been as entertaining as they came.

You'd put Steve's existence firmly out of your mind until you pulled into Family Video at nearly five-fifteen on Thursday afternoon.

Hesitance rumbled through you. Your hand wavered on the door handle, but a tugging in your stomach gave away how excited you were to see him again. To be able to tease him over the counter.

Deciding that making it fast was the best course of action, you climbed from your car and slipped quickly through the entrance, the familiar light jingle pooling your chest in warmth.

Robin's big eyes glanced up at you from where she was examining the contents of a packet of gummy bears.

"Hey, you." She grinned.

You couldn't help how your eyes swept over the store, in desperate search of a moussed and quaffed head of brown hair.

"H-Hey Robs." You pulled your attention back to her.

"Well don't look so disappointed, it's just little old me today."

Passing the counter you offered up as genuine a chuckle as you could muster.

"I'm never disappointed when I see you, Robin," you called over your shoulder, glazing over the horror section to find Psycho II on the top right corner. You swore every time you came in looking for a movie it ended up being on the topmost shelf, always needing to ask Steve for help or just embarrassingly reach at it from your tippy toes.

"Where's your partner in crime?" You hoped you came off nonchalant as you turned back towards Robin, sliding the movie over to her.

The amusement dripping from her smirk was slightly unsettling. "Oh, he had other plans tonight. Ditched me."

A sharp sting plunged through your chest. There's only really one reason why he would abandon Robin in the shop alone.

"Let me guess, that little brunette I saw in here last week wooed him into taking her to see Pretty in Pink tonight?" There really wasn't another feasible reason for you to ask, Robin would likely probe and you shouldn't care, but you just had to know.

"Wooed him?" She laughed, taking you by surprise. "God, you guys are made for each other."

Your head nudged to the side, squinting. "W-What?"

She shrugged you off, "Never-mind, but to answer your question: yes, something like that."

Both ideas tugged at each other for the space at the front of your brain. What is Robin talking about? versus So Steve really is out with someone tonight?

Jealousy twisted hotly through your veins, as if you had any right with Ralph coming to fetch you for your second date in less than twenty-four hours.

In the couple seconds you'd been preoccupied by your thoughts, Robin had already rung up the movie - offering it back to you. "Here you go."

You smiled lightly, "Thanks Robin, I'll ... I'll see you around."

She nodded, smirk dripping in mischief. "Have fun with little Dusty Bun."

The drive back to your street was distracted. The thought of Steve making out with a girl in the back-most row of the cinema during the end credits was enough to almost make you miss the red light on the corner of Walnut and Oak.

Your head was so wrapped around your five minute interaction with Robin in the store that when you stopped at Dustin's house, you marched straight past Steve's car without even noting it's presence.

The cool air from the blasting air-conditioner blew straight past you when you opened the door.

"Dustin!" You called into the house, bouncing down the corridor, desperate to put Steve Harrington out of your mind: "Are you ready for Psycho?"

You began making obnoxious gestures, pretending to be stabbed by imaginary knives from different angles in the abdomen and faking loud grunts of pain.

You rounded the corner to where you could make out the curly topped head of your kid neighbor over the back of the couch.

"Oh, Norman, stop—!"

Staring up at you from the very same couch was just the man you'd intended on pretending didn't exist: Steve Harrington.

"Hey," he grinned at you, making to stand. You blinked down at him, lips frozen around your words.

For god sakes, did he have to make everything so hard by looking so fucking good?

His hair looked fluffy, like it had just been washed - not too much hairspray that it stood very tall, but rather so a couple strands were allowed to swoop down to hang over those warm brown eyes that were looking expectantly up at you and a dizzying yellow sweater that made his skin glow.

"Steve," you sighed. "Hi."

Dustin cleared his throat awkwardly, "I... I invited Steve to join our movie night, if that's fine?"

Steve grinned.

It took a couple seconds to process Dustin's response before you considered them playfully, "Sounds like Harrington is slowly working me out of a job here. Should I send in my application to Family Video now or later?"

Sooner or later you'd have to make peace with Steve's company. Ralph or no Ralph, Steve Harrington was high on the roster of Dustin Henderson's favourite people and if you intended on keeping your substitute little brother around, you were going to have to keep your feelings in your back pocket until they slipped quietly out of existence.

"Maybe wait 'till I resign." Steve chided, "I figure by the end of the week I'll be the full-time nanny here. Claudia already adores me."

You tossed the movie at Dustin, scoffing.

"Go put it in before I leave both of you to have your play-date alone. The nerve of you two ..."

He nodded, shifting off the couch towards the player.

A neat pile of snacks was waiting against the coffee table in front of the couch, you couldn't help notice all the favourites you'd usually pick when you stopped past Family Video.

You slid off your shoes before crashing against the edge of the couch, intentionally as far from Steve who had situated himself in the dead centre.

Dustin returned, taking the opposite end of the couch. You observed him curiously, noting the large gaps between each member on the couch - but said nothing on it.

"So this is what you're ditching work for, Harrington?" You mentioned absently, slowly turning Robin's words over in your mind as you reached for a bag of Twizzlers.

Yes, something like that.

"Yep. I couldn't turn down such a prestigious invitation." His hand dug deeper into the Doritos packet, "Wanted to see if you're actually watching the movies I give you, or you just come past to flirt with me."

A hot red blush raced up the sides of your neck over your cheeks, you didn't look at him - instead trying very hard to focus on the loading television screen. You pulled hard at the piece of your candy with your teeth, chewing slowly.

"In your dreams, Steven."

A shrill ring pierced through the room against the hum of the opening credits. Dustin jumped up quickly, "I should get that—"

Behind you, you heard the phone lift off the wall.

"Hello?"

There was quiet, you'd paused the movie while you waited for the call to end - only the loud munching of Steve's Doritos to distract you.

"Really?" Dustin sounded dramatically excited, your eyebrows pinched curiously at him. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be right over. Bye."

The phone was slammed haphazardly back against the wall, you looked at Dustin confused.

"What's happening?"

"It was Lucas, he said his mom just bought him the new Legend of Zelda. That I could come over and try it out."

You glanced slightly sad between him and the television, "What about the movie—?"

"You guys can keep watching. I'll watch it when I get home, I won't be late." Dustin's eyes clouded with an emotion you couldn't quite make out.

But your duty was to babysit him, not imprison him, so you nodded slowly, "O-Okay sure, have fun I guess."

Dustin was out the door quicker than you anticipated. He grabbed his backpack from his room and the door slammed behind him.

"Guess it's just us." The sound of Steve's voice startled you.

You turned to face him, nodding carefully. "Sure ... do you want to keep watching or, if you don't want to I can head—"

"No!" You jumped at the volume, he chuckled nervously and he reached a tentative hand to your arm. "Sorry, I mean, no ... I'd like to keep watching. With you. If you want to."

Starting to laugh, you shrugged at him, "Sure, but I have to warn you that I'm a really bad movie talker. It drives Dustin nuts."

He visibly eased, "I'm sure I can handle it. Robin's the same."

The movie was clicked back on and you chewed on a freshly opened pack of sour worms loudly.

You commented on the most obvious of moments, pleased when Steve giggled at you - also somewhat puzzled because you definitely knew you couldn't be that funny - and recoiled back into the couch when bloody guts would splatter across the screen.

"I mean, how dumb do you have to be!" You yelled obnoxiously at the television, as if the woman on the screen would turn from entering the obviously dangerous house.

"You know she can't hear you, right?"

Settling back against the couch, you huffed. "Whatever. She's going to die anyways."

The sun had long since disappeared out in the street, the neighborhood lit by the street lamps. Dustin must have been gone an hour already because cool evening was creeping in through the floorboards and the hair on your naked calves stood on end. Although, you couldn't entirely contribute that to the temperature when Steve was sitting less than a foot from you.

You side-eyed the tin of Pringles in his lap. "Can I have some?"

"Come get it."

The sentence pierced a hole in your chest and you felt momentarily breathless. Steve's smugness was radiating off of him in waves.

Trying to avoid meeting his face with your blushing one, you shifted over towards him. "Asshole." You mumbled, dipping your hand into the can before focusing back on the television.

"You're welcome." He nudged you with his elbow, making you suddenly aware of how close he was next to you - his thigh pressing hotly against yours.

A slash of metal splashed ruby red blood across the screen and you flinched back against him, giggling. "Dustin's gonna love this."

"Especially when he realizes they've shown boobs twice now."

You dug your index finger into his ribs under where his arms were folded over his chest. "You're so gross."

"Hey!" He winced from your prodding, "Breasts are one of the few great pleasures in life."

You looked back at the screen, pretending to be unbothered. "If you wanted to see boobs, Steve, you could've just asked."

The breath Steve sucked in was loud. A short silence followed it.

"W-What?"

You glanced up at him, working hard to hold down your smirk, "Why so shy, Stevie?"

It was Steve's turn to blush hot red over the bridge of his nose and up to the apples of his cheeks. The laughs slipped broken from your lips, you wheezed in breaths between them.

"I'm—I'm sorry, I'm just joking Harrington." Your head was tilted back again to match his gaze. He was smiling sheepishly.

"Was starting to get my hopes up there, it's not fair to tease people." His attempt at a counter-strike was weak and you brushed it off.

Your giggles softened, holding his gaze. "I'm sorry, but the look on your face was priceless."

Steve didn't reply, but his eyes were holding yours. Suddenly everything except him felt very far away. You'd never seen the spots on his cheeks from this up close before.

"You've got a nice laugh, has anyone ever told you that?" He whispered, as if divulging some secret.

Despite feeling very exposed with Steve's eyes raking over the edges of your face and down the length of your nose, you couldn't look away.

"You're the first."

A warm hand closed over the skin under your right ear and he sighed when your lips just barely brushed over his.

He tilted his head down to pull you against him when a shriek echoed from the television and you jumped back in fright.

Steve's heart sunk. You've got to be fucking kidding me.

You sat back: eyes wide and alternating between him and the screen.

"Uhm, sorry..." Steve coughed awkwardly and you shook your head, avoiding his gaze.

He glared up at the woman on screen as if she could actually feel his irritation towards her, but still felt a swelling pride in his chest that he'd gotten you so close against him, practically in his arms as he'd dreamt for weeks.

Somehow though, he swore he could feel you buzzing against him, that you wanted it as bad as he did.

Now, you were sliding back down to your original spot at the end of the couch - face bright red in the dim light of only the lamp across the room. "No, it's ... it's fine, I'm sorry." You were speaking more to your chest than to him.

The image of Ralph standing on your doorstep appeared in his mind like a blinding vision. How you'd dodged his lips, instead planting a kiss on his cheek.

You'd just done the same to him.

God, when is this movie gonna end ... Thoughts swirled around Steve's head. He folded his arms carefully.

Did this have something to do with the mechanic? Or did he really just stand no chance with the girl that's been plaguing his dreams since the day he met you?

The air between you was thick. Steve let it permeate while the movie played in the background. It brought him small joy to know the woman who'd screamed earlier and crushed his dream, had just been murdered.

You were quiet, but he could still feel your flickering gazes against the side of his face. He wondered if maybe you were reading his thoughts through the side of his head.

Curiosity nagged at him.

"I didn't see you in the store on Monday." He tried carefully, unable to ignore the itch anymore.

A smile curled at your lip and Steve was suddenly glad he decided to speak. You turned to meet his eye, "Did you miss me?"

"Desperately."

Your smirk stuttered, unsure about the honesty of the response. "Well, I skipped babysitting on Monday. I was out ... I-I went on a date."

"Oh, okay. That's ... nice?" Steve tried to sound as if it was the first time he was hearing this information. "I mean, was it? Was it nice?"

You nodded quickly, very quickly.

"It was nice. Very nice, actually. He's taking me to the movies tomorrow night."

Steve's stomach sank. He had less time than he thought. Maybe that's why his mouth began to run faster than his brain.

"You like him then?" He pressed, "Doesn't look much like your type though."

The words settled into the room. Your eyebrows pinched, turning in your seat to look at him. He could already read the questions forming in your head, biting down on the corner his lip and was slowly realizing that he'd said the wrong thing.

"M-my type?" You asked, "I don't— wait, when did you see him? When did you see Ralph?"

Ralph.

Steve stuttered, scrambling for a way to explain his story in a way that made sense without admitting that he'd been spying on them that night. "Robin and I saw him on Monday night, when we ... when we came around."

"So then you knew where I was on Monday? Why did you ask?"

"Oh, I didn't think you would be on a date ... I thought maybe he was a friend or something." The second he saw your face, he knew he'd only made it worse.

"Right, because I don't go on dates. I can't possibly." You seemed to be growing more offended the more you unwrapped his answers. "And my type? Since when do I have a type? What in your opinion is my type, Steve—"

"I don't know!" He was stumbling now, grasping at straws. "You went out with Jackson Gillespie in high school..."

"And what does that mean?"

Your face was red again, but this time you weren't blushing. The twist in your expression was dripping in hurt.

"Well compared to your Ralph they ... they look nothing alike!" Words were slipping from his lips like water through his hands, too fast for him to consider before they're gone. "He looks like you found him in the forest, like ... like a grizzly bear or something!" 

"And who, in your high and mighty opinion, Steve, am I supposed to date?" You guffawed, not a single trace of humor dripping from your tone. "You get to run around with any Ms America lookalike in Hawkins because they're all in love with you, and I'm not allowed to go on one date with a very good looking man who actually shows interest in me!"

"Oh please," he was scoffing now and a little voice at the back of his mind was warning him that he definitely shouldn't be. "As if you don't see how men fall over themselves for you. You skip around town in your cute little skirts and your smart mouth—"

"Like who?" It felt like your eyes were burning a hole through his skull, he'd only just noticed the way your eyes were beginning to well up - fat pools of tears hanging onto your waterline. He felt sick. His tongue stuck immediately to the floor of his mouth. Like me!

"And even if that's true, which it's not, what do you expect me to do? Sit around and wait for them to find the balls to ask me out?"

The room was sweltering.

"Okay, wait—"

But it didn't stop you.

"The only person I was willing to wait for has his pick of any Barbie in the state of Indiana, and it will never be me. But I'm not waiting anymore. I can't be stupid forever."

A heavy tear had broken loose and was running down your cheek.

He squinted, wait. Were you talking about him?

The silence was broken by a wet sniff and the shuffle as you went to stand.

"I-I'm gonna wait for Dustin at home." You were whispering now, he barely caught it.

Steve called your name softly, but you didn't turn. Only the sound of the front door shutting remained after you fled.

Steve sat back against the couch, sighing loudly and running both hands through his hair.

How had the conversation gotten away from him so quickly? A pang of guilt resounded in his chest. He shouldn't have insulted the mechanic. Or implied that you don't go on dates. Honestly, he wished he'd just pulled you in to kiss you even after the interruption.

Maybe if he had, he'd be lying with you between his arms right then instead of occupying the couch alone after sending you home in tears.

The old bed frame creaked when you fell against it.

You tore open the sheets in darkness, the pursuit of light abandoned as you crawled beneath them. Pressing your face against the pillow did little in muting your gasping hiccups, you could still hear when Steve's car pulled out the driveway next door and raced off down the street.

Screwing your eyes shut, you worked to dissolve the image of Steve's confused face from your head.

After less than a half hour, the throbbing against the side of your head had grown to unbearable. You reached blindly in your bedside drawer, lifting out a rattling bottle of pain medicine and swallowing two tablets before crashing back against your mascara stained pillow.

Morning arrived hot after a long night of restless tossing.

You would've stayed in bed until the evening, but the sweltering heat forced you from the sheets and declared you face your reflection in the bathroom mirror.

The house creaked around you, empty and alone as it stood most days. Thoughts tormented you, embarrassment tore through you every time your mind wandered to the night before.

You couldn't believe that you'd lost your cool on Steve like that.

Nausea was a constant companion as you tried to move through your day. Sickened by how you allowed yourself to think there was a sliver of hope for reciprocation when he almost kissed you. Clearly you meant nothing more to Steve than any of the other girls who batted their eyelashes at him.

At some point in the afternoon, you phoned the Henderson house. Claudia answered and you stuttered your way through an excuse for calling.

"Dustin said he wasn't feeling well last night ... I just wanted to check if he's okay?"

"Oh, well he seemed fine this afternoon. He just left for Mike's house, I'll tell him you called."

It took a whole twenty minutes after you'd hung up with Dustin's mother, standing at the phone, that you decided to call up Ralph. 

"Listen, I'm really not feeling well today ... yeah, could we do a rain check on the movie tonight?"

"Yes, of course. Maybe next week sometime?"

You couldn't see Ralph that day, not after what happened in the Henderson living room. Your forehead pressed against the wall beside the phone and you sighed loudly.

Dustin was going to be upset. You'd abandoned him to ride his bike to school and ruined what was a perfectly good friendship with someone he cared for deeply.

By almost seven o' clock, the time which Ralph was intending to pick you up, the couch had practically swallowed you whole.

The jingle from the television hummed against the rumble of the cars heading home, you watched only half-attentive - pajama clad legs splayed over the edge of the chair.

The first knock made you shift slightly, only partially sure you'd heard anything at all. But when a second rang through the corridors, louder, you were forced up from the couch.

You were sure it was Ralph. That he hadn't taken the hint, decided to come past anyways, and when your hand closed over the doorknob you were completely ready to feign a cough and kindly nudge him away.

What you weren't ready for, however, was to face Steve Harrington staring down at your across the doorframe.

Your breath caught in your chest, freezing over.

"Hey." He said softly.

Maybe it was your hopeful imagination, but his eyes looked tired: like he also hadn't slept at all. He was in his green Family Video vest and your gaze fell to the small bouquet of pink roses swinging at his side.

"Hey."

He noticed your gaze, lifting the flowers to look at them as if he'd only just noticed them. He dropped his arm back to his side.

"At work," his empty hand fidgeted against the side of his jeans, "they take off fifty cents from my salary for every movie that's returned late and isn't fined."

Your shoulders sank guiltily. "Oh."

Steve tried to ignore the way the look on your face made his head spin. He came on a mission. With a plan. And a pre-planned dialogue so he wouldn't fuck it up again this time.

"But I-I don't fine you, I've never charged you for a late movie ... you're the only person in the whole of Hawkins that I don't fine because of the —that fucking face you make when you know you've gotten away with it again. The way you smile, that full-of-shit smile, it makes me forget my own name."

"Steve—"

But even your eyelashes batting up at him couldn't pull him from his pre-rehearsed lines.

"And I lied. Last night. I knew you were on a date with Rick—"

"—Ralph—"

"Whatever. When you didn't show up at the shop, I phoned Dustin's house to ask where you were then he said you were on a date and I freaked out," The smile creeping up onto your face was only spurring him to keep talking.

"So Robin and I drove over and we were spying on you from his kitchen window."

A gap opened into the space that had gotten smaller since he'd started talking. He sucked in a deep breath.

"So," your voice was soft and lined in that smugness Steve loved so much. "What you're saying is that ... you were jealous? And spying on me?"

"Yes, because you make me crazy." He took another tentative step forward, hoping to inch the crevice between you and him to nothing. "And that guy is really scary looking so I'm really hoping he's not gonna be arriving soon to beat me up, because if I thought I was gonna lose you to some twig from the video store, I'd also kick my ass."

You fidgeted nervously, Steve couldn't help find it endearing, chewing on your bottom lip like you didn't know what to say - a rare phenomenon for your generally smart mouth.

You gestured towards the roses in his hand, "Those for me?"

He lifted them up, nodding slowly.

"Yes." Steve took your hand gently, passing them into your hold. "I came to ask if you wanted to go out on a date with me ... because I think I'm falling in love with you."

The smile curling at the edges of your lips and the way your eyes were twinkling made Steve wonder if he was even awake or if he'd dreamt you up.

"You're very chatty tonight, Steve. Can tell you've got lots on your mind."

He shifted his weight from his one foot to the other, his previous admission still hanging in the air. "Is that a bad thing?"

You shook your head.

"Not normally, but right now I wish you'd just shut up and kiss me."

Steve didn't need telling twice. He cupped your face between his palms, pulling you all the way against him so the roses crushed between your bodies - but he couldn't find the tiniest bit within him to care.

Your lips were warm. So warm. He concluded that the nights he'd lain awake imagining what they'd feel like came nothing close to the hint of spearmint and buttery popcorn against your tongue.

You whined softly against him, hand running up to curl into the hair at the base of his neck and Steve knew immediately that he wouldn't need another kiss from another faceless town girl for the rest of his life.

Still lapping softly at his bottom lip, you began to mumble against his mouth - eyes still screwed shut, Steve was pleased to note - "I'm sorry for losing my shit at you last night ... I was also jealous of all your little girlfriends from the video store. And I promise to make up for the money from the videos ... I'll pay for the first date."

His grip around your waist tightened.

"First off, any girl that's not you doesn't matter. Secondly, shut up about the money - if that's what it cost to get a date with you, then it was worth every cent."

You pulled off of his lips, blinking earnestly up at him. "And when you get bored of me, Harrington?"

He scoffed, a preposterous implication.

"That's not going to happen." His fingers curled between yours, tone twisting sarcastically: "I don't know if you heard me earlier - you might not have because you kind of haven't addressed it and it’s stressing me out - but I did say that I think I'm falling in love with you—"

"I think I'm falling in love with you too, Steven."

A grin overtook him, closing in to kiss you again. "You sure? Not just saying that so I'll shut up and kiss you again?"

Giggling, you nodded. "Pretty sure. Only love can make you look this attractive in a Family Video vest."

#steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington fanfiction #Steve harrington fic rec #Stranger things #Dustin Henderson #fic rec #fic recommendation

[fanofstuff02]

HERE I AM! Here I am with a little writing of mine!

Before we get started, this AU belongs to @woah-why-i-am-here and they have pretty cool drawings about it. GO CHECK IT OUT!

Considering the show itself is 16+, this is aswell, know it then read this, also it has Valentino.

DEAR TUMBLR! PLEASE DONT TAKE THIS DOWN!

A little summary: Adam fell to hell, needed money, and Valentino was the only one hired him. He owned his soul, and it was too late when Adam realized what he agreed to work on. He is one of Valentino’s top whores now. And of course, Adam and Angel met, in fact, more than ‘met’. Their films sure sell a lot. They slowly become friends and Angel convinces Adam to come to the hotel. This is after these happened. Also not shipping Angel x Adam.

ENJOY! (Also since you love holydust @rius-cave , tagging you!)

“And cut!” Valentino said proudly, ending the scene. “One hour break and we’re here till 8!”

Adam panted as he tried to collect his mind. He slowly backed away from the fish demon gal, wore his robes back and got up to go to his dressing room. This was the third demon he was on top of that day, and sure enough she was not gonna be the last. Today was gonna suck. Val was planning to work on eight fucking movies, not to mention six of them were gay and two of them were with Angel. He was glad the one-hour break came.

“Addie~” He heard someone behind him and felt that certain ‘someone’ gripping his shoulders.

Valentino. Awesome. Just who he needed.

He attempted to not show the fear and hatred he felt to his face and mask. Too bad the fucking thing was programmed to show every emotion on his face, and sometimes they didn’t even needed to be on his face, him feeling them was enough. Angel had a -probably true- theory about it, he thought that it was ‘connected’ to his brain when he wore it. Adam was already regretting that he put the “I will only work with a mask” in his contract. He didn’t like the idea of showing his face on films, but this was much worse. He couldn’t fucking took it off till his shift ended!

“Yes, Val?” He asked, trying to avoid the movements he was doing to his chest. Yes, prick? he corrected himself in his brain.

“You were so, so good in the last one, babe” he chuckled.

“Thank you, Valentino.”

“Go ahead. Rest, baby.” He thought he was gonna leave him, but instead, he leaned in and kissed his cheek, completely disgusting the sinner. He didn’t flinch or resist though, he knew what’d happen if he did. “Oh, I can’t wait to see you and Angie on stage together.” he let out another one of his creepy chuckles and finally let the first man go. Adam almost runned to his dressing room, closed the door behind him and threw himself on the couch.

“Fuuck.” He groaned and tried to grab his wine bottle without getting up.

“Adam?” A familiar voice came from outside.

“Door isn’t locked!” He yelled.

“Hey, dickmaster.” A pink spider demon came inside and sat down beside him, tilted his head back and watched as the demon managed to grab the bottle and drank it without standing up, like his life depended on it.

“Y’know you can choke yourself doin’ that, right?”

“Meh, who the fuck cares.” He get up dazedly and looked inside the bottle with one of his eyes.

“I don’t recommend dying on work hours, Val punishes the ones who do.”

“Unholy shit, that actually happened?!” Adam asked, his pupil-les eyes went wide.

“I saw three accidents.” Angel shrugged. “Any left for me?”

“Sorry, I guess that bitch camera guy sneaked up here again and stole my stash.”

“It’s fine. Wanna eat your food? We’re gonna need energy.” Angel asked and took out two containers out of his bag. “I made lasagna yesterday.”

“Oh, you bet I do then.” He smirked and took his own. Angel knew the best ways to make it.

They chatted together until their break ended.

“Adam! Get your ass here or there will be consequences!” A little window appeared in Adam’s mask, almost like a pop-up ad. It was their costume designer. “And bring Angel with you!”

“Fine, fine! Ugh.” He groaned, swiped the page to make it dissapear and get up. “Who’s idea was putting this shit on this again?” He mumbled to himself. “Let’s go cocksucker, we have another job to do.”

HOW IS IT!?

By the way, Adam’s mask in this is practically based on his original mask, a Voxtech product just for Adam. Like Vox’s screen, it’s like a screen-face.

I’ll continue this

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin angel dust #hazbin adam #holydust #I worked so hard on this #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin valentino

[heyitsme1040]

Hey bestie! I just wanted to say that I love your work and the way you write Steve Harrington. Idk if you have something like this yet, but could you write something where both reader and Steve are super busy, always on opposite schedules. They are both getting kind of sick of it/sad about it until Steve does something to surprise reader :)

I hope you have a lovely day and that your writers block goes away :)

More Certain than Ever [s.h]

summary : This past month you haven’t had any time with your boyfriend. You were both used to being busy, but this was different. Finally no longer able to take it anymore, you quit your job. When Steve hears about it, he decides to ask you a serious question sooner than he planned to.  

pairings : Steve Harrington x Reader

warnings : None, just tooth rotting domestic fluff. Reader uses she/her pronouns. No use of Y/N. Dialogue heavy. Kind of dual POV.  (if I missed anything let me know!)

word count : 2,100

AO3 (x)

a/n : Thank you so much for the request! I rewrote this like three times and edited it twice, so that’s why it took a week to post.

This past month was horrible. Your manager at the movie theater had fired the girl you were usually scheduled with, so now your shifts were twice as long. Used to, you had a six hour shift early in the morning. Halfway through your shift was when Jennifer would clock in for the start of the afternoon. You'd get off at two while she worked the slow half of the evening alone. Now, however, you were handling your usual shift as well as Jennifer's all alone. Busy working from eight to eight five days a week, you were overwhelmed. You were doing too much for one person to handle at work, beyond tired when you came home, and missing your boyfriend. 

Usually you'd go to Family Video when you got off work to visit Steve on his lunch break. His schedule was less consistent than yours, but the two of you always found a way to have time to see each other. Except now that Jennifer is gone, the two of you were struggling to spend time together. Even your days off weren't lining up. When you weren't working, you were busy cleaning your apartment, trying to catch up on both chores and sleep. You were upset that you never had time to be with Steve. The two of you were trying to find ways around your conflicting schedules. 

Once home, you'd eat something simple that required minimal effort before showering. Just as you finish getting into bed, the phone you'd moved into your room would ring. You'd quickly answer, mumbling a happy greeting before being overcome by a yawn. You and Steve would talk for a bit, with you mainly managing to stay awake for twenty minutes listening to Steve's voice telling you about his day at work. Managing to say a quiet 'love you’ before fully falling asleep was an accomplishment. Come morning, you'd hear Steve's steady breaths coming down the line as your alarm was beeping. You'd wish him a good day before returning your receiver to its cradle.

Feeling just as tired as when you went to bed, you got ready for work and left for your shift. You were hating how this job had begun to make you feel. It was the start of a new week. A week to be filled with twelve hour days, an hour both to and from the theater, two hours to try and relax at home, and a restless night's sleep before repeating everything the next day? It was crushing you. You felt like if one more thing happened, you'd simply fall apart. 

"You're here!” Your manager exclaimed. "I need to talk to you.”

You gave your best customer-service smile, "Sure thing, what do you need?”

“Well, I need to adjust your hours.”

You raised your brows, surprised by what you just heard. "Okay?”

"Perfect! So for a few days you'll be coming in at six, and you'll also need to stay until ten so that I–”

"No.” You bluntly interrupt while reaching for your name tag.

Your manager’s friendly demeanor instantly faded away. "No?”

“No,” you hand her your name tag. "I quit.”

"You can't quit. I'll accept a two weeks, but–”

"That's not necessary. I quit,” you turn on your heel and walk out.

Hearing your manager shouting the start of many different sentences after you was satisfying. Walking through the doors, knowing you’d never return as anything other than a customer, was satisfying. You were excited and unsure about what to do now that you finally had some time to yourself again. With a smile, you began heading toward Family Video. 

The bell rang as you opened the door, Robin’s hair popping up above a shelf of movies as she stood, greeting you. You walked toward her, excited to see your friend. 

“Hi,” you said as you turned the corner of the aisle. 

“I thought you had to work, what are you doing here?” She exclaimed while pulling you into a tight hug. 

Your excited laughter slipped out, “I sort of did something, and now I’m no longer working at the movies.” 

“What happened?” Robin gasped, pulling you to sit behind the counter with her. 

You explained what happened this morning while she began the process of rewinding tapes. The more you spoke, the more Robin commented about how ridiculous your old manager was. You knew the way you were being treated at the movies since Jennifer was fired wasn’t great, but you didn’t realize just how bad things had gotten until you were explaining it. 

“With how long I’ve been working twice as many hours I have some time before I absolutely need to be hired. I’ll be able to apply to some jobs while being able to actually wait to hear back,” you thought aloud. “I also just paid my rent for the month, so I don’t have to worry about that either right now.”

"Oh!” Robin quickly stood. "Keith just put a sign up,  we're hiring! You could work here!”

“You think? I feel like I should mention it to Steve at least.”

Robin grabbed your shoulders and shook you slightly, “He would love it! He's been so mopey this entire month. He misses you, and he hated how overworked you've been. We'll both tell Keith how good a worker you are, and that you literally quit working at the movies. There's no way you wouldn't get it!” She rambled excitedly.

"Okay,” you put a hand up. "I'll fill out an application, and I can bring it up to Steve later today.”

Robin clapped, grabbing the clipboard of application forms. 

Steve tripped over his own feet while rushing out his house. He slammed the car door closed, cringing at how rough he was being on his baby. He had to ignore the awful feeling slamming the door caused as he was late to his shift. He was pushing the speed limit his entire drive to Family Video, prepared to apologize profusely to Robin. Only slightly haphazard in his parking, Steve shrugged on his vest while entering.

"I'm sorry,” he says while heading to the back to clock in. "My alarm clock died.”

Robin waved away his concern, "It's fine.”

"Like it's plugged in, but not on–wait. What do you mean it's fine?”

"I mean it's fine. Quiet morning, your girlfriend came in looking for you, she filled out an application, she left after a while, and the tape rewinder broke again.”

Steve stood still, trying to process everything Robin just said. "She came by? Is she okay? What happened?”

Guiding Steve to sit down, Robin rubbed his shoulder, "She's fine. Everything's alright. She quit the theater, and I suggested she apply here. She's going to talk to you about it, not wanting to step on your toes. I got her to apply anyway, then we hung out for like twenty minutes. She said she was going to head home and ‘sleep until there's no more movies.’”

"She always hated working there,” Steve mumbled.

"Yeah?”

Nodding, a soft smile creeps up. "She's not a fan of most new movies. And she hates popcorn. But she liked seeing how excited people would get after watching a movie.”

"She's a good one," Robin nudges his side. 

Steve nodded, thinking. He was getting off early today. He could go see you after so much of your lives not lining up the way it used to. 

Steve patted his pockets, making sure he had everything before grabbing the brown bag from the back seat. He took the stairs up to your apartment two at a time. Biting his lip, he knocked on your door. He heard a banging noise before your muffled shout that you were coming. His heart melted as the door opened, revealing a sleepy sight. Your hair was messier than you ever let him see, his sweatshirt was engulfing your frame, and your sleep shorts barely peeked out from the bottom of the sweatshirt. The surprise on your face made him chuckle as a wave of pink slowly flooded your cheeks.

“I brought lunch,” Steve says in a daze, focused on your sleepy appearance.

You grabbed his hand, pulling him into your apartment. You set the bag on the coffee table before hugging him. Feeling your arms around him pulled Steve from his stupor. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, gently swaying you both side to side. 

“I've missed you,” Steve whispers.

“I missed you, too. How are you?” You pull back slightly to look at him closer. “You seem tired.”

“So do you,” Steve counters.

He watches as you nod, gesturing to the couch. “I couldn’t be bothered to walk all the way to bed after double checking I locked the door.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he admits. “I’d try but it just wasn't happening. So I listened to your breaths. Eventually it would allow me to sleep, knowing you were right there and safe. But my alarm didn't go off today, so I was late. Robin told me how I had just missed you once I finally clocked in.”

You walked to the couch, pulling Steve to sit beside you. He tugged you into his side, leaning back against the couch. You curled into him with a hum. 

“I quit today,” you state. “Finally.”

Steve nods, “So I hear. And you applied at Family Video. What happened?”

Your shrug feels stiff against Steve's side. “I just walked in, hadn't even clocked in yet, when I was being told I was getting more hours. I was sick of it, and I just quit. I didn't even let her say anything after that really. She tried to tell me I couldn't quit, that it was for a few days, but I was done. Last time something was for a few days put me at twice my hours for the month. So I walked out as she tried to make it be my two weeks.”

Steve squeezes you tighter against his side. “I’m proud you quit. I've been worried about you.”

“I know, and I'm sorry. And I applied at Family Video when I came to see you, but it was just Robin and she talked me into it. I mean, I like the idea of us working together but don't want to be too much.”

“You could never be too much. In fact,” Steve reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, “I have an idea.” He places the box into your lap. “I know it's only been six months, and this past one has only been tired phone calls, but I want you to move in with me. I was going crazy without seeing you this entire month, and I think Robin’s tired of me complaining about how much I miss you.”

“Yes,” you kiss him. “I would love to live with you.”

Steve held you close, kissing you passionately. When you pulled away for air a yawn escaped. Steve stood, holding a hand out to help you up.

“C'mon, I think we need to finish that nap,” Steve smiled. 

You weakly protest as he pulls you up. "But the food, and we need to figure everything out, then there's–”

“Absolutely nothing that can't wait,” Steve promised while guiding you to bed. "We can eat when we wake up. We can share my room, or you can choose a room. Your lease here has been month-to-month since your original twelve-month agreement came to term. And I would love to work with you, you're more qualified than I am. Plus, Robin really wants you there too.”

You lay down, facing Steve. Your eyes scan his face intensely, trying to find any doubt. He looks sure. You think about how miserable you've been the past month. Knowing Steve felt much the same was reassuring. You'd never felt as comfortable nor certain about anything or anyone the way you do with Steve.

"Are you sure?” You timidly ask.

Steve cups your cheeks, holding your gaze. “I've never been more certain about anything.”

"Same here," you admit. "It's a plan. Sounds like you've thought about everything.”

Steve's cheeks flushed, “I was going to ask in a few months, but this past month made me want to ask you sooner. I was going to wait until you were off Friday, but then today happened. And it seemed perfect.”

You smiled, knowing how deeply Steve feels. “What else have you thought about?”

"Well…”

You and Steve fell asleep to plans of the future and many promises each of you wanted to fulfill together.

Author's Note : Reblogs are appreciated, likes are welcome, and if you want to read more of my fics then maybe follow.

©heyitsme1040 If you find this post on any platform under a username different than heyitsme1040 it is not their work.

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[sattlersquarry]

& now i'm covered in you (steve harrington x female!reader)

Summary: (Post Season 3, inspired by Taylor Swift's "ivy") Despite having a boyfriend, you find your feelings for your best friend Steve Harrington growing tenfold over Christmas break, 1985.

Word Count: ~6k (I got carried away ahaha)

Warnings: (I'd say this one's 18+, maybe) Language, alcohol use, mentions of sex, angst related to general unhappiness and loneliness, mentions of nightmares, and canon-typical violence. Also lots of mutual pining. Extra TW for abusive, manipulative behaviors from an OC (this is a Tyler Didn'tGiveHimALastNameBecauseHeSucks hate page).

A/N: I felt unhappy so I wanted to write a fic about feeling unhappy and then kissing Steve Harrington. It turned into this. Enjoy!

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 14th, 1985

MY PAIN FITS IN THE PALM OF YOUR FREEZING HAND / TAKING MINE, BUT IT’S BEEN PROMISED TO ANOTHER

It’s a slow Sunday morning at the Family Video, and Steve Harrington wishes he were anywhere else but here. 

His job is essentially dealing with one annoying customer after another, all day, for eight hours. It’s passable when Robin’s scheduled, but since she’s still a high schooler and just works part-time, Steve is left to fend for himself a good chunk of the time.

The bright spot in his miserable existence at the video store is when you come to visit him. 

When he first got hired in October, you used to come twice a week to rent movies and talk with him. You always did a great job sounding impressed with Steve’s (albeit limited) movie knowledge when Keith hovered nearby.

As of late, the space between your visits grew significantly. And if you rented a movie, you’d use the curbside drop-off box to return it instead of coming in to see Steve. He tries not to take that personally. He rationalizes it, knowing you’re probably just busy with your classes at Roane County Community College. That was it. Nothing else.

He tries not to think about how your avoidance could have something to do with the events at Starcourt last summer. About how maybe it was related to waking up next to him in an underground Russian bunker, bloodied and bruised and drugged out of your mind. About how maybe you didn’t want to see him because you blamed him for—

Ding, ding! The bell above the door signals your entrance. Steve looks up from the returns he’s processing, wondering if he’s summoned you with the power of thought.

“Y/N!” he says, his bored expression brightening. “Hey!”

You give him a shy smile and wave.

“Hey, stranger,” you say, the gentle lilt to your voice making Steve’s heart melt. You stamp your boots, shaking snow onto the doormat. “Sorry, I know it’s been forever.” 

“Don’t even worry about that,” Steve says, waving your apology away like a pesky fly. “I know you’re busy with finals.”

You join him by the counter, and the two of you catch up a little more: you talk about your classes, he talks about his job and his misadventures in babysitting. 

At some point, the conversation shifts to relationships. Steve hopes he doesn’t sound too eager when he asks, “Are you…seeing anyone?”

He’s expecting you to say no. He doesn’t know why—you’re pretty, really pretty, and kind. And smart. And you smell nice. Long and short of it, you’re a total catch. 

So he shouldn’t be surprised when you say, “Actually, yes.”

His eyes widen. He plasters on a (fake) smile and says, “Whoa! Awesome! Who’s the lucky guy? Someone I know?”

You shake your head. For some reason, you can’t look Steve in the eye while you explain, and instead pick at your fingernails. 

“He’s from a small town in West Roane County,” you say. “I met him in my psych class. His name’s Tyler.”

“Tyler,” Steve repeats it, trying not to make it sound like a curse. “What’s he like?”

“He plays baseball,” you add. “And he’s in a band.” You start scratching at a stain on the countertop. “He’s pretty nice.”

“Pretty nice?” Steve says, eyebrows pulling together. “Y/N, you deserve better than ‘pretty nice.’” 

“He’s fine!” you say, a little exasperated, as if you’ve had this conversation many times before. You meet Steve’s eyes, something akin to defiance flashing in yours. “He’s great! I really, really like him.” 

“That’s great,” Steve says, lying through his teeth. “Super great. I’m glad you’re happy.”

You falter. Your expression twists to one of regret, for just a moment, before you turn away. 

“I should get going,” you say. “He’s meeting me at Enzo’s for lunch. But I’ll see you around, all right?” 

“Sure,” Steve says. He runs a hand through his hair. “Hey, listen, sorry if I said something to upset—”

“It’s fine, Steve,” you say. A lie. You beeline toward the exit.

You’re halfway out the door when Steve steps out from behind the counter and blurts out, “You still having those nightmares?”

You pause in the doorway. You consider just leaving, pretending you didn’t hear him. But you knew you were being a bit short with him, and you didn’t want to hurt his feelings. 

You turn back into the store and shrug.

“I mean, sometimes,” you say. Another lie. You have them every night. Nightmares where you wake up in that godforsaken elevator again. Nightmares where you watch as the soldiers beat the shit out of Steve, out of Robin, out of you again and again and again, and over and over and over. 

Steve doesn’t say anything. He studies you, honey-brown eyes shining like opal in the mid-morning light. He’s waiting for you to elaborate, so you do. 

“I was seeing a therapist about them,” you admit. “But I was tired of wasting 100 bucks a week sugar-coating the horrible truth to someone who would never know what really happened. So I stopped going.” 

“It’s hard,” Steve says. He cautiously steps closer, as if you’re a jittery animal he doesn’t want to spook. “Listen, if you ever want to talk about what happened, I’m here for you. Okay?”

Your heart twists. For a moment, you want to drop the facade. You want to tell Steve every bad thing you’ve been thinking and feeling lately. But you can’t do that. You can’t give him that burden. 

So you pull him into a hug (so he can’t see your face) and say, “Thank you, Steve.” 

He hugs you back, and you relish in the feeling of his arms around you. You want to stay like this forever. 

But you can’t, because your boyfriend is waiting for you at a booth in Enzo’s. 

Steve watches you go, a splintering feeling exploding in his chest. He tells himself it’s only because he can tell that something’s wrong, that you aren’t being fully honest. That it has absolutely nothing to do with his unrequited feelings for you, the ones he’s had since the two of you became Scoops Ahoy coworkers in May. 

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 27th, 1985

YOUR TOUCH BROUGHT FORTH AN INCANDESCENT GLOW / TARNISHED BUT SO GRAND

Steve doesn’t see you again for almost two weeks. 

Christmas comes and goes, and he finds himself wondering about you and your elusive new boyfriend more often than he should. 

You visit the store two days after Christmas with Tyler in tow.

“Who’s that with Y/N?” Robin asks, peering out the store’s large front windows from the sci-fi section.

Steve looks up from the tapes he’s organizing and almost drops them at the sight. A tall, muscular guy with piercing eyes has his arm around you as the two of you walk through the parking lot. Steve doesn’t miss how you seem to sag under the weight of the guy’s arm. 

“That,” Steve says flatly, “must be Tyler.”

The two of you enter the store. 

“Hey!” you say, pulling out from under your boyfriend's arm to give Robin a quick hug. “Merry Christmas, a little late!”

“Merry Christmas Y/N!” Robin says, hugging you back. 

You turn to Steve and hesitate, before giving him a quick hug as well. You try not to think about how good his new aftershave smells: like cinnamon, like peppermint, like everything cozy and warm. 

“I’m glad you’re both here,” you say. You gesture to Tyler. “This is my boyfriend, Tyler. Tyler, these are my friends Robin and Steve.” 

“Nice to meet you, man,” Steve says, holding out his hand. He hopes the smile on his face doesn’t look too forced.

Tyler gives Steve a once-over before shaking his hand, and then shaking Robin’s. 

“Y/N’s mentioned you two,” Tyler says. He puts his arm around you again. “Says you worked in the mall together, at some ice cream shop?”

“Scoops Ahoy,” Robin says. “God, I do not miss that uniform.” 

You and Steve chuckle in agreement. Tyler squeezes you a bit tighter. You stiffen.

“Sucks that it burned down,” Tyler says. “Y/N says you were there when it happened. That’s fucking crazy.” 

“Yeah,” Steve says, eyes flicking to Robin, and then back to you. He clears his throat. “Crazy’s one word for it.” 

“Did you like, see the flames—”

“Hey,” you interrupt, before Tyler’s morbid curiosity of the mall “fire” can send you into a panic attack. “I’ve got to run to the bathroom. Is there a key, or something?”

“Nope!” Robin says. “It’s just down the hall to the left.”

“Great, thanks. Ty, why don’t you pick out the movie?”

“Sure, babe,” he says, sounding a bit bored. You kiss him on the cheek and disappear down the hall. 

“Need any recommendations?” Robin asks Tyler. “I know all about the foreign films and horror, and Steve’s big on the action-comedies—”

Ding, ding! A new patron enters the store—a pretty girl, around your age, wearing a low-cut sweater and bright red lipstick. Tyler’s focus immediately shifts, eyes hungry as he watches her walk toward the romance movie aisle.  

Robin scrunches her nose up in disgust and shares a look with Steve, who looks pissed.

“Huh?” Tyler says, turning back to the duo when the new object of his attraction is no longer visible behind the shelves. 

“Movie recommendations,” Steve says sharply. “Need them?”

“Nah,” Tyler says. He pats Steve on the back a little harder than necessary. “I’m good, champ.” 

Steve bristles. Tyler breezes to the romance movie aisle.

“Holy shit,” Robin whispers. “He was totally ogling that girl!”  

“He’s more than ogling,” Steve hisses. “Look!”

The two of them eavesdrop as Tyler flirts with the pretty patron, complimenting her lipstick, her sweater, her ass in those jeans. It’s shameless and pathetic, but the girl giggles and twirls her hair around her finger.  

“He’s a total dog,” Robin says, crossing her arms. “We have to tell Y/N.” 

Steve’s seeing red. He wants to do more than just tell you—he wants to knock Tyler down a peg. Or two. Or seven.

Before Robin can stop him, he’s charging toward Tyler and the girl. He grabs a VHS copy of Sixteen Candles off a nearby shelf. 

“Hey, Tyler,” Steve says loudly, sauntering down the aisle. He slaps the tape into Tyler’s chest. “I found the movie your girlfriend was looking for.”

“‘Girlfriend’?!” the pretty patron says with a scowl. She huffs and flounces away, shoulder-checking Tyler on the way past.

If looks could kill, Tyler’s glare would send Steve six feet under. 

“What the hell, man?” he says. “What about bro code?” 

“We’re not bros,” Steve snaps. He steps a little closer. “Have some respect for Y/N, okay, ‘champ’?” 

You emerge from the store bathroom and join the boys in the romance aisle, clueless to the tension.

“Ooh, Sixteen Candles!” you say, noticing the tape in Tyler’s hands. “I love that one!”

“I’m not watching this girly shit!” Tyler barks. He chucks the tape at you. You flinch and fumble, dropping it to the ground. “Let’s go, Y/N.” 

“Wait,” you say with a frown. “Aren’t we going to rent a movie—”

“We’ll just go to the drive-in!” Tyler says. He storms toward the exit. You follow, and don’t hear Steve calling you to, “Hold on, Y/N—” 

“It’s a little cold for the drive-in,” you say with an awkward laugh, “don’t you think?” 

Tyler looks down at you with a sleazy smile, grabbing your belt loops and pulling you flush against him (in the middle of the goddamn Family Video). 

“I mean, I know a couple ways you can warm me up. Like what you did last night…” 

Shame burns through you. You hate how Tyler talks about sex so flippantly and in front of your friends. 

You hate how he looks at you. Not like a person, not like a girlfriend. Like a sexual conquest. 

You hate how he touches you, like a possession. 

You don’t want to spend your night at the drive-in having subpar sex in the backseat of Tyler’s Ford. You want a cozy night in, with candy canes and warm blankets and hot cocoa and marshmallows and a movie you’re actually going to watch. 

You gently push Tyler away from you.

“I’d rather just stay in Ty,” you say quietly. 

Tyler’s expression morphs back to anger. 

“Fucking hell,” he grumbles. “Fine. Get your dumbass movie and let’s fucking go.” 

He leaves to smoke outside. You fidget with the hem of your sweater and watch him for a moment, too embarrassed to face your friends again. 

You feel a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Here,” Steve says softly. He hands you Sixteen Candles. You stare down at it, unable to look him in the eyes. “Is this still the one you want?” 

You nod. Steve squeezes your shoulder and drops his hand. 

“C’mon, I’ll get it checked out for you.”

You follow him to the counter, dragging your feet the whole way. Neither of you say anything as he finalizes the rental. Steve catches Robin’s eye from across the store and gives her a look. Robin nods, interpreting the signal. 

“You know,” she pipes up, joining you two by the counter. “Steve and I only have an hour left of our shift. If you hang with us until then, we can go get food after.” 

“Sounds fun, Rob,” Steve says. “What do you say, Y/N?” 

You want to; you really do. But—

“I shouldn’t,” you say. “Tyler’s pissed, so he won’t want to wait.”

“Tell him to buzz off!” Robin blurts out. She sucks in a breath. “Look, I’ve got to be honest. I don’t love the way he treated you just now.” 

“He’s just got a temper,” you say, waving away her concern. “It’s fine.” 

You reach to grab Sixteen Candles from the counter. Steve stops you, holding both your hands in his.

All the air escapes your lungs. Steve’s touch is tender and warm. He’s looking at you with concern, empathy. He’s a gentleman and would never loudly boast about sex. He’s the perfect antithesis of Tyler.

For a fleeting moment that you aren’t too proud of, you imagine that sex with Steve in his BMW would be leagues more enjoyable than anything you’ve done with your boyfriend.

“Y/N,” Steve says, voice low. “Is Tyler…hurting you?”

“No!” you say, much louder than intended. “No, no. Nothing like that.”

“You’re sure?” Steve asks, brows furrowed. “The way you reacted to him throwing the tape—I mean, anyone throwing anything at anyone makes them flinch, but I just—”

“It’s not like that,” you repeat. “But thank you for looking out for me. Both of you!”

You want to say more. You want to admit that you’ve been thinking about breaking it off with Tyler, because you have the sneaking suspicion he’s cheating on you. You want to break down crying because he’s your first serious boyfriend and it’s not going the way you envisioned at all in your head, and you’re starting to wonder if you’re even capable of being loved at all—

Beep! Beep! Beeeeeeeeep! 

“HURRY UP!” Tyler yells from outside the store. He honks his car horn twice more.

You quickly pull your hands out of Steve’s and mumble out goodbyes, before grabbing the movie and running out of the store.

Steve frowns as you climb into Tyler’s car, the splintering in his chest from a couple weeks ago back with a vengeance. 

“Oh, that guy sucks,” Robin says, watching with disdain as Tyler peels out of the parking lot. “What are you thinking, intervention?” 

“Maybe we put a hit on him,” Steve says darkly. “Or, hell, we handle it ourselves. I’ve got my bat. Do you think Sinclair would let you borrow the wrist rocket?” 

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 31st, 1985

YOUR OPAL EYES ARE ALL I WISH TO SEE / HE WANTS WHAT’S ONLY YOURS

Now that the majority of Steve’s friends are nerds, any parties he throws these days are of the D&D variety. 

It’s New Year’s Eve, and he’s allowing Mike, Dustin, and Lucas to run a special holiday-themed one-off campaign at his house. The other guests include Robin, Erica, Max, and you.

Well, you’re supposed to be there. But now it’s almost an hour after the scheduled start time and the impatient Mike started the campaign already, and you’re nowhere to be seen. 

Worry blooms in Steve’s chest as he checks the clock for the fortieth time.

“Dude!” Dustin says. “It’s not midnight yet!”

“I know!” Steve says. “I’m just worried about Y/N. She should be here.” 

“She’s probably just driving slow,” Lucas says. “The snow’s coming down pretty hard.” 

But another hour passes, and another, and you still aren’t there.

Steve slips away during the one-shot’s final battle to give you a call.

He thinks for a second that you aren’t home, until he hears: “Hello?”

“Y/N, hey,” Steve says lightly. “Happy New Year, almost.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“Oh my God, Steve,” you say. “I’m sorry. I know, I suck.”

“You don’t suck.”

“I do. Totally, utterly, completely suck. I’m late.”

“It’s no big,” Steve says. He fidgets with the phone cord. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay. My car’s a piece of shit though and wouldn’t run, and the taxi fares right now are insane because of the holidays, and I called Tyler and asked him to drive me and he said he would, but that was, like, two-and-a-half hours ago and I haven’t heard from him since.” 

The mention of Tyler spikes Steve’s blood pressure.

“Oh. Tyler. You’re…still with him?”

You blanch.

“Oh, um, yeah.”

You can almost hear his unspoken question: But why? 

You aren’t sure why, but you find yourself verbalizing the thought you’ve had for weeks: “I think I’m going to break it off though.”

Steve tries not to sound too excited. 

“Really?” he says. “That’s good! Seriously, you deserve better. He was a total jerk to you the other day.”

“Yeah,” you admit. “He was. He’s like that a lot more than I realized when we first started dating.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Steve says cautiously, “but why exactly did you start dating him?”

Because I like you. Because I’ve liked you since the summer, Steve Harrington, but you never made a move and obviously don’t feel the same and I just wanted to be wanted for once in my stupid life—

“I like baseball players,” you say, twisting your mouth into a smirk. 

Steve’s mind flashes to the nailed baseball bat in his car trunk.

“What about guys who are burnt-out basketball players and swimmers,” Steve teases, “who also happen to be capable with a bat?”

Your chest starts to feel warm. No way he was actually flirting, right? No. He’s just joking around. 

“Hmm,” you say with a chuckle. “I’ll have to circle back about that one.”

In the background, you hear the D&D group cheer.

“Sounds like they just won, or something,” Steve says, pushing the phone closer to his ear to block out the raucous noise. 

“I wish I was there to see it,” you say. Before you lose your nerve, you quietly add, “I wish I was with you, Steve.”

The double meaning is not lost on Steve: with you, as in physically at the party. But also with you, as in I-wish-I-was-dating-you-and-not-that-shithead-Tyler. Steve’s mouth drops open. 

He’s about to ask you for clarification, or to tell you he feels the same, but you curse.

“Shit, Tyler’s here and he brought his stupid friends. I guess he’s not giving me a ride. I’m sorry, Steve. I’ve got to go.”

“Wait, Y/N, I’ll come get you or—”

Click. You’ve disconnected the call, leaving him reeling about your maybe-confession.

He stares at the phone, mind buzzing in tandem with the droning dial tone. 

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 1st, 1986

OH, I CAN’T / STOP YOU PUTTING ROOTS IN MY DREAMLAND

You had wanted to break up with Tyler as soon as he came over, but he brought all his friends, and his friends brought wine coolers, and you had to spend your New Year’s Eve as the designated babysitter, making sure no one got alcohol poisoning. 

With a drunk Tyler passed out on the mattress next to you, you went to bed thinking about how you were going to end things. You drifted off to sleep, worried about what his reaction would be. 

For the first time in almost 6 months, you didn’t have nightmares.

In fact, you had quite the opposite: a rather amorous dream about someone else. The kind of dream that has you feeling flushed, your insides fuzzy and hot. 

When you wake up the next morning, Tyler is already gone, and he isn’t answering his landline. Instead of trying to track him down, you decide to make it up to your friends for missing the D&D party. You invite them to go sledding on the big hill by your apartment complex.

At some point during the festivities, you drag Robin aside and away from the others. You confide in her about your interesting dream to try and get some clarity. 

Instead, she just laughs and laughs.

“It’s not funny!” you say, glaring at her. 

“It is pretty funny, though,” Robin says with a giggle and a snort. “I mean, we’ve seen a lot of wild shit, but you having a sex dream about Steve—”

“It was not a sex dream!” you hiss. 

“Okay, whatever. A ‘romantic’ dream about Steve. Look, I don’t know what that means, but I do know one thing: both dream-Steve and real-life-Steve would treat you a hundred times better than Tyler does.”

“There’s no way Steve feels that way about me, though,” you say. You spare a glance at him further down the hill, where he’s cheering for Erica as she speeds away on her bobsled. 

“You’ll never know unless you tell him how you feel,” Robin says, playfully poking you in the shoulder. “Who knows, maybe you had that sex dream—”

“Again, NOT A SEX DREAM!”

“—because he was thinking about you, too.” 

She winks and wanders to Mike and Lucas. You accidentally catch Steve’s eye. You give him an awkward smile and turn away, praying he didn’t overhear you and Robin…

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 1st, 1986 & THURSDAY, JANUARY 2nd, 1986

SO TELL ME TO RUN / OR DARE TO SIT AND WATCH WHAT WE’LL BECOME / AND DRINK MY HUSBAND’S WINE

Steve never gets the chance to talk with you one-on-one during the day of sledding. It seems like you’re avoiding him. Every time he tries to strike up a conversation, and maybe bring up your statement from New Year’s Eve, you make some excuse to go on a hot cocoa run or grab an extra hat for Dustin and his cold ears. 

Which is why when your roommate Molly joins the fun, Steve doesn’t rebuff her advances when she bats her eyelashes and asks, “Sled with me, Steve?”

“Sure, Molly,” he says with the kind of grin “King Steve” should’ve retired two years ago. “Sounds fun.” 

He doesn’t miss how Robin’s coughing fit sounds suspiciously like: “Dingus! You’re a dingus!” as he and Molly climb onto the sled. He doesn’t miss how Erica loudly whispers to Lucas, “Wait, doesn’t Steve like Y/N?” 

He definitely doesn’t miss how you look sick to your stomach, how you turn to Robin and say, “I’m not feeling well. I’m heading in.” How you make some comment about some party Tyler is throwing, how you want to rest up before you go. 

Steve doesn’t see you for the rest of the day, and although you have plans with freaking Tyler, he politely declines Molly’s offer to go to the diner for a bite. 

Later that night, however, he does see you again, in less-than-stellar circumstances.

It starts when he gets a phone call from Nancy Wheeler at 1 a.m.

“I’m sorry to call so late,” Nancy says as Steve rubs his bleary eyes, “but this is urgent.”

Panic rises.

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, imagining Russians and demogorgons and rips in the fabric of space-time. 

“It’s not Upside Down stuff,” Nancy clarifies. “It’s Y/N. She just called me, and I think something’s really wrong.” 

This doesn’t lessen Steve’s panic one bit. Cradling the phone between his shoulder and ear, Steve rushes to get dressed while Nancy explains that you called sobbing, absolutely hysterical.

“I couldn’t really make out what she was saying,” Nancy continues, “but she gave me an address. I would go get her, but my parents are out of town and have the car with them. I’m worried about her, Steve.”

Steve assures Nancy that he’s on it, thanks her for the information, and breaks about a dozen traffic safety laws to get to the address in record time. 

The address takes him to a house on the edge of town. It’s very obviously a house owned by college boys, due to the amount of red SOLO cups littering the front yard, the music pumping through the windows, and the frat-house flag waving on the porch. 

The party is loud and overwhelming. Steve cuts through the crowd, elbowing drunks left and right and loudly asking, “Does anybody know where Y/N Y/L/N is?”

His saving grace comes in the form of a bored-looking designated driver sitting at the kitchen counter.

“Is Y/N wearing a pink sweater?” the DD asks Steve. “With, like, little hearts on it and shit?” 

Steve nods, remembering how cute you looked in it earlier during sledding.

“I saw her go in there,” the DD says, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the pantry.

Steve thanks the guy and slides open the door. His heart cracks into 70 pieces when he sees you sitting on the pantry floor hugging your knees to your chest, sobbing.

In one of your hands, you’re gripping a bottle of wine like it’s a lifeline.

“Y/N,” Steve breathes out, rushing to sit next to you. He puts a hand on your back. “What happened? Are you okay?”

You continue to cry and shake your head no.

“He has a girlfriend!” you say, hiccuping between every word. 

“Who?” Steve asks, although he has a sneaking suspicion.

“Tyler!” you say. You take a swig of wine and start to slur your words. “I came over early and I found him making out with some girl. She’s been his girlfriend for three years. Three fucking years!” You bark out a hollow laugh. “I figured he was cheating, but turns out I was the one he was cheating with!”

“Oh, shit,” Steve says. He wraps an arm around you. You lean into him and lay your head on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You drop the wine bottle and roughly wipe your eyes.

“I don’t even know why I’m fucking crying,” you say. “I only came tonight to break up with him anyway. And he treated me like shit. But…ugh, it’s stupid.”

“What?” Steve asks, voice gentle, as he runs a hand up and down your arm—a comforting touch. 

You suck in a breath. If you were sober, you’d keep your mouth shut. But your alcohol-addled brain doesn’t give you the chance to stop yourself.

“It was nice to be wanted for once,” you mumble. “I’m just so tired of feeling this way. Feeling so goddamn lonely. So fucking unhappy.”

You’re glad that you can’t see Steve’s face, because if you could, there’s no way you’d have the confidence to keep going. 

“I don’t know why I feel this way,” you continue. “I have you and our other friends. I have my parents. I have classmates I’m getting to know. I have a part-time job that pays well and I’m taking courses I’m interested in and I’m constantly surrounded by people and my life is good so I should be happy but I’m just not.” 

Before Steve can respond, you start to ramble: “I’m unhappy, and I don’t know what to do or how to change it. I feel stuck. Stagnant. Like I’m in quicksand and I’ll keep getting pulled down until there’s nothing left.”

For a moment, Steve doesn’t respond. Insecurity chips away, making you worry that you overdid it. You clear your throat and start to backpedal:

“Sorry, ignore me, it’s stupid—”

“It’s not,” Steve says firmly. “I promise you, it’s not stupid. Honestly, I get it. Really, I do. My life is not what I wanted it to be and I constantly find myself wondering if it’s fate or if I did something stupid in a past life and now I’m being punished.”

You bite back a badly timed joke about his tenure as King Steve.

“I know it doesn’t seem like it,” Steve adds, “but this is just a small blip in your life. A small, insignificant blip. You feel stuck now, but you won’t be forever. You have such a bright, awesome future ahead. And you’ll find a guy who treats you wayyyy better than fucking Tyler.”

“Oh yeah?” you scoff. “Like who.” 

“Doesn’t matter who.”

You look up at him, faces so close you can see every freckle and beauty mark on Steve’s cheeks. Steve has to remind himself to breathe when your nose almost touches his. 

“Like you?” you whisper, the wine making you bold. 

“Maybe,” he whispers back. His sincerity throws you off guard. 

Your eyes pull to Steve’s lips. The urge to kiss him feels like a necessity, not just a desire. 

You start to close the space between you two, but Steve pulls away. The one thought rattling in his mind is, Not now. Not like this.

“Let’s get you home, okay?” Steve says, helping you to your feet. 

Embarrassment washes over you. Of course he doesn’t want you. You figured as much. 

You’re unable to look any of Tyler’s friends in the eye as you clumsily exit the bustling party behind Steve.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 2nd, 1986

MY HOUSE OF STONE, YOUR IVY GROWS / AND NOW I’M COVERED IN YOU

You spend your Thursday hiding in your room, hungover and embarrassed about…well, pretty much everything. You can’t believe your drunk ass blubbered like a baby and almost kissed Steve. You have no idea if there’s a way to bounce back from that.

Steve calls your apartment a few times during the day, but you have your roommate lie and say you’re at your parent’s house. 

Molly comes into your room around dinnertime and says, “You need to call Steve back. He won’t stop hogging the line. It’s getting desperate.” 

You drag yourself out of bed and decide to do one better: to go see him.

When you enter the Family Video, he’s slouching behind the counter, watching St. Elmo’s Fire on the miniscule store TV. He doesn’t even look up from the movie and, in a bored monotone, says, “Hey, so we close in 15—”

“Don’t worry,” you say, “I’ll be quick.” 

He straightens up and looks to you, instinctively running a hand through his hair. 

“Y/N, hey!” he says. “Sorry, I thought you were a customer. I mean, you are a customer, but I thought you were a stranger—”

“No worries,” you say. You clear your throat. “I have something for you. Two somethings, actually.” 

You reach into your bag and place two items on the counter: the Sixteen Candles tape you rented the other day and a square-shaped Tupperware container.  

You remove the Tupperware lid and reveal a cookie cake with a message in blue icing: “I’m Sorry :( ”

Steve raises an eyebrow, looking down at the cake and then back at you.

“What are you apologizing for, exactly?” he asks, the ghost of a smile on his lips. 

“For last night,” you say. “I shouldn’t have gotten so wasted. And I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you. I’m really sorry, Steve.”

Something unreadable flashes across Steve’s features. He fidgets with the Sixteen Candles box. 

“No, don’t apologize,” he says. “It’s fine, really.”

He doesn’t say anything else, and you don’t say anything else, and for a moment the only sound to be heard is the movie in the background.

“I can get out of your hair,” you say, “if you need to close up—”

“No!” Steve says, quicker and louder than he means to. “I mean, why don’t you stay? You made this cake, you should at least enjoy some of it. Right?”

That’s how the two of you end up sitting side-by-side on the rough carpet of the Family Video, backs leaning against the counter as you tear the cake apart with your hands. 

Through the wide front windows of the store, you watch the sunset dip below the horizon, painting the bottom third of the sky purplish-pink. Higher up, the sky is a dark indigo. You imagine the view from outside almost looks like a Christmas card, the two of you housed in the cozy glow of the store, its exterior draped in half-melted snow.

Between bites of cake, you two chat about everything and nothing. It’s nice, it’s easy, it’s friendly. It’s familiar. But there’s a buzzing in your ear, a pounding in your heart, and you want nothing more than to grab Steve by the collar of his stupid polo and kiss him until you can’t breathe anymore—

“Can I ask you a hypothetical question?” you blurt out, before your mind takes you to someplace you shouldn't be. 

“Shoot,” Steve says, turning to face you. You meet his eyes.

“Let’s say there’s a girl,” you say, “who likes a guy. And she’s liked him for a while.”

Steve drops the piece of cake he’s holding.

“And for a long time,” you continue, “she was too chicken to make a move, so she didn’t say anything, or do anything. But the feelings just kept growing and growing, and covering her completely, like ivy.”

Steve swallows hard. You can’t tell if the wild look in his eyes is because he’s horrified or because he feels the same. You pray it’s the latter and keep going. 

“Instead of doing the smart thing and telling him how she feels,” you ramble, “she convinced herself he only saw her as a friend, so she did a really stupid thing and dated a really shitty guy, but that shitty guy’s gone, and she needs to finally tell the first guy she likes him but that’s really scary and—”

Steve’s kissing you. You're not sure exactly how it happened, not sure when he moved closer, but now he’s kissing you and it’s perfect. 

He cups your face in his hands and kisses you like he’s fighting for his life. Like there’s a fire in his soul, blazing away, and you’re the only one who can tamp down the flames. Like he’s covered in ivy too, completely enamored with you. 

You kiss him back, grabbing a fistful of his dorky green vest. You kiss him like nothing else matters.

“Wait,” Steve says, pulling away, cheeks flushed. “The guy in the story was me, right?” 

You laugh, and Steve is convinced it’s the best sound he’s ever heard. He wants to record it on a cassette and put it in his Walkman so he can loop it all day long. 

“Yes, Steve,” you say. “You’re the guy, and I’m the girl, and I’ve liked you since June.”

“I’ve got you beat,” Steve says, grinning. “I’ve liked you since Scoops employee orientation. But I thought there’s no way you’d want to be with me. I mean, you’re you.”

“Holy shit,” you say. You think of all the missed opportunities, the wasted time. “We’re idiots. The two of us? We’re actual idiots.” 

You both laugh, and then Steve kisses you again. Outside the window, the sun sinks completely, leaving nothing but a crescent moon shining in the dark winter sky.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x female!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfic #god i hope this does well #please reblog if you like it :) #st fic: ivy

[officialaemondtargaryen]

Age Of Consent [part nine]

Summary: Dustin’s older sister thinks Eddie Munson could be a bad influence on her younger brother due to their history. Can he change her mind?

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Henderson!Reader

Word Count: 1,708

What you’ll find in this series: big angst, wholesome fluff, sexual content, drug use, tobacco use, alcohol use, and a lot of profanity. This is a slow burn- buckle up, buttercup.

A/N: Internal screaming for y'all to read this one.

Read Part Eight

It had been three weeks.

For the most part, your life had seemingly fallen back into place.

One of the girls from work was on maternity leave, so you were picking up all of her shifts to make some extra cash and keep yourself busy. It had helped somewhat in keeping Eddie off of your mind. It took Dustin a few days, but he eventually got the memo that under no circumstance did you even want to hear the name Eddie Munson ever again.

You had been hanging out with Robin and Steve more often, which was nice. The best part was that, with them, you didn't even need to remind them to not ask about it- they just knew. Despite the fact that you weren't big on having company other than yourself, you really had begun looking forward to movie night with them, and sometimes after work you would all grab pizza from Antonio's.

"Y/N!" You heard your boss call from behind the counter. "Phone call on line one!"

You furrowed your brows and sat down your price gun before heading over to the cash registers.

"Hello?" You asked, answering the phone.

"Do you think you could give me and Mike a ride home tonight?"

"Dustin," you replied flatly. It was Thursday, the typical day for a certain after-school activity. "I know what you're doing, I'm not stupid."

"I'm not doing anything, Y/N," he replied. "Mom has bingo tonight, Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler are taking Holly to the movies, we asked Steve but he's working, and Nancy said no. We've asked everyone, come on, please!"

"Okay, I'll come and pick you dweebs up. But, listen to me very clearly, Dustin, I don't care what your precious little Dungeon Master says, you are in my car by 8:00 PM or I will dethrone him, do you understand me?"

"Yep, totally understand, thanks sis!"

You heard the phone click and rolled your eyes before placing the phone back on the hook. You sighed, knowing that you should just make them walk or bike home, but it was cold and it had been raining all day. Your mother would never forgive you if precious Dustin got sick because you forced him to find his own way home in the rain.

By the time you got home, your mother was already gone to bingo. There was a note on the refrigerator reminding you that there were leftovers and that she would be home by 9:00. You pulled the cold dish of lasagna out of the fridge and cut yourself a small piece before placing it into the microwave. It was only a few minutes past 5:00, which meant you had a few hours to kill.

Around 8:00, you went ahead and left for the school, just in case the club had conceded earlier than normal- you didn't want to leave those little shits out in the rain without a ride. Parked under a street lamp in the parking lot of Hawkins High, you waited, getting through a few chapters of your novel.

When the clock hit nine, you closed your book and tossed it up on the dashboard. You craned your neck to look over at the double doors, fingers impatiently tapping on the steering wheel as you did not see any nerdy kids exiting the building.

"Five more minutes," you whispered to yourself wanting to be fair.

But five minutes came and went, then ten, then twenty.

You threw open the car door and slammed it shut behind you; annoyed, pissed, and ready to cause a fucking scene. You rounded the corners of the hallways, damp shoes squeaking with each step you took towards that God-forsaken classroom.

"Alright you fuckin' losers, let's go." You came through the door only to be met with silence. The room was empty, save for Eddie who was sitting on top of the table where he usually had the game set up. "Where's Dustin and Mike?"

"They got a ride with Lucas after school," he replied as he slid off of the table. You scoffed. Another set-up. "Look, can we please- just talk to me, hear me out."

"I don't want to talk to you, Eddie." You inhaled a sharp breath and exhaled slow. "I want to get over you."

"I was studying," was his reply.

"What?"

"I was studying," he repeated. "That day in the woods with Kelly. I was out there studying to get some peace and quiet. And yes, she wanted some pot for a party she was having, but I stopped bringing it with me." He was closing the gap between you. "I'm doing everything that I can to get out of here so that you and I-" he took your hands and placed them on his chest. "All I care about is being with you and not fucking it up again."

"Eddie," you said sternly as you pulled your hands back. "I don't care what you were doing. I knew this was a bad idea and I'm done playing this game. I just want to move on from this, okay?"

You turned and began to head out of the classroom but Eddie's voice stopped you. "But you can't move on, can you?"

No. Fuck.

You didn't answer, just stood there for a moment with your back to him before you had the courage to take a step out of the classroom. You didn't turn back to look at him, didn't say anything else, just left. Once again. Just like the first time you had seen him again after two years. And just like then, you should have never been here. If you had only listened to yourself the first time.

It was starting to rain again when you got to the parking lot. It wasn't pouring, but it was drizzling and your breath could be seen in the air. It was dark, the two dim street lamps didn't provide much light as you hurried to your car to not catch pneumonia.

"Hey!" You heard from behind you, the doors to the school slamming open. You stopped, just then reaching your car, and turned around, ready for another argument. "You know, the last few times that we were in this situation I just let you walk away, and last time I stood there in that fucking room and I told myself that I should go after you, and I didn't. I tell myself every time and every time I end up regretting it."

"Eddie, what are you-"

"I knew you were going to try-" He pointed a finger in your direction as he continued to stomp towards you. "I knew you were going to try and walk away. And why? It's because you expect me to just let you, isn't it?" He was closing in quickly and before you realized what was happening he was standing directly in front of you- hands on either side of your face. "Yeah, that's not happening this time."

He kissed you with all of the regrets that he had been holding in for two years. You could feel his heart like a hammer in his chest as he pulled you into him. Your lips and tongue moved in tandem, dancing with a partner they could never forget. No matter how hard you tried, there was no escaping that you loved him. You had always been in love with him.

Breathless, you pulled away; looking up at him with his doe eyes- hair damp from the drizzling rain, the water droplets illuminated in the light like a goddamn halo.

"I didn't come after you at graduation because I didn't deserve you," he said quietly. You went to speak but he continued. "No, I know I didn't. It's a goddamn fact. I was selfish. I pushed you away. But now? Fuck, if I wouldn't do anything for you. I mean, you say 'jump', and I'm- I'm nosediving off that goddamn cliff."

"And I meant what I said about counting the fucking days- every day- for two years. You were burned in my goddamn head. Everywhere I looked, you were there; sitting in the library, the hallway between classes, waiting for me at the picnic table outside of the fucking trailer." He stopped and pinched the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh. "But you weren't there, you were just-" he tapped the side of his head. "In here."

"Now you- you gave me a chance to show you that I was different- that I wasn't the same, stupid kid." He said. "And I know I succeeded. You want to know how I know?" You raised an eyebrow. "Because you ran. You ran, and you did it because you're scared. You're so fucking scared of love. Well, guess what, sweetheart? So is everyone else! I'm standing here, scared shitless and still confessing my fucking love for you like some goddamn idiot."

"Eddie?"

"Yeah?" He said as he geared up for the disappointment.

"You're right."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"You're right," you said once again a little louder this time. "I love you."

"Hold on," a smile crept to his lips as he cupped his hand behind his ear. "Can you say that one more time, I'm hard of hearing- all those years playing in a metal band, you know." He joked.

"Eddie Munson," you announced loudly. "You are right and I fucking love you!"

"Oh, I knew that!" He was grinning ear to ear. "Did you guys know that?" He jokingly looked around at the empty parking lot. "Everyone knew that, babe."

You gave him a light shove, but he pulled you back into him just as quick; his lips enveloping yours once more.

"Just say it one more time," He asked softly.

"I love you."

"Oh," his lips mumbled against yours. "I don't mean to keep bringing up the past, but I'm pretty sure the last time I saw you, you said you were coming to visit your boyfriend for lunch." His smile was uncontainable.

"Yes," you rolled your eyes. "That is what I said, please don't make me regret it."

"Not a chance in the world, sweetheart." He replied with a sweet kiss. "You're mine for good now."

Tags (closed):

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#WELL WELL WELL #also we don't talk about the fact that the doors to the school are always unlocked #the next chapter is basically the after-credits scene #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things season four #eddie munson fic #incorrect stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #dustin henderson #eddie munson drabble #stranger things drabble #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x henderson!reader #fan fiction #fanfic #eddie munson series

[the-traveling-poet]

Date Night

══════════════════════

Your evening shift at the cafe takes a pleasant turn as your best friend, and childhood crush, makes an appearance at your place of work ahead of schedule.

══════════════════════

Pairings: Modern!Armin x Y/N

Warnings: None

SFW. Modern AU, Fluff, friends to lovers

══════════════════════

A/N: This was a request from my wattpad, and I felt like sharing :)

══════════════════════

Damn, I just wanna go home already....

Y/N sighed.

Though she loved her job as a barista at the local coffee shop in her small town, sometimes the six to eight hours of work drained her to the point of crashing on the spot as soon as her apartment key entered her room's lock and she set her bag down on the small couch in her living room.

The pay was decent, the customers were usually polite, and she got the weekends off. But sometimes, a girl just needs a BREAK.

As the last hour of her shift approached, Y/N found herself propped up on her elbows staring out the cafè's windows as the sun began to sink lower and lower across the horizon. She daydreamed about how she would spend the rest of her afternoon, after she closed up the shop for the evening. Since she'd made no plans for herself due to her being so mentally and physically exhausted lately, she suddenly found herself dreading her lonely night.

Perhaps a nice warm bath...or a movie? Maybe I should start back up on my skincare routine....

Before her daydream of lonely relaxation could continue, the soft chime of a bell from the shop's front door shook her of her thoughts. Stifling a groan, she quickly went to the counter where customers would order the their goods and prepared her little notepad for orders.

Only, she wasn't expecting to see a familiar face waiting for her on the other side of the island counter.

There stood a blonde man with soft blue eyes, peering happily at Y/N's surprised face.

Armin, who wasn't supposed to be off his own shift until eight in the evening, stood before her with a shy grin poking out from behind stray blonde hairs that fell across his forehead.

"Hey, Y/N!" He greeted nervously.

Armin had been a close friend of hers for years now, introduced to Y/N through her childhood friend, Mikasa. The moment the two met, it was as if a spark had ignited within the both of their hearts. Yet neither of them had said a thing, being too shy to confront the other, nor picking up on the other's feelings.

Even still, the two of them went way back.

Despite not acting on her emotions, Y/N considered Armin to be one of her closest friends. She would confide to him many a night about her many troubles; wether they would be big or small, and he would stay up with her for hours to talk through it all.

And whenever he needed a shoulder to lean on, or words of advice for something he was going through, he could always call her number or come see her at work for help.

Today, Y/N assumed, must be one of those moments he needed someone to talk to.

"Armin!" Y/N exclaimed. "I wasn't expecting you here today. Aren't you usually released from the office around eight?"

"Well..." Armin rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"I called in a favor, for tonight."

"Tonight? Is there something going on?" Y/N tilted her head slightly in concern as she set her order notebook down.

"No! No, nothing's wrong!" Armin was quick to reassure with a wave of his hand.

"I just....Wanted to be elsewhere for the night."

"I fully understand that," Y/N chuckled humorlessly.

"Which, uh, brings me to why I'm uh....here."

Armin stuttered with his words, yet still managed to keep eye contact with her.

Fully expecting him to need some form of comfort or advice, as that's why he would usually visit her during work hours, Y/N was quick to round the counter and take a seat beside him on a barstool. She patted the seat next to her, motioning for Armin to sit. He was slightly taken aback, but with a nervous smile, he sat.

Adjusting his shirt collar, he swallowed thickly before continuing.

"I was wondering if, ahh....You'd like to maybe...Join me tonight, since I have time off? After your shift, of course." He quickly added at the end.

Y/N's brows shot up in surprise. It wasn't like the two of them haven't hung out alone before. They had many times, and each time presented Y/N with a newfound treasured memory.

But calling off work early, to spend the evening with her?

Butterflies erupted in her stomach, but she did her best to remain calm on the outside.

"Of course Armin! My shift ends in an hour, but then I'll be all yours!"

Y/N blushed at her rash choice of words, and she didn't miss the color that rose to Armin's face, too.

"Ah, sweet!" He replied with that cute laugh Y/N loved so much.

A moment of silence engulfed them as Y/N took in this information. Finally looking back up at him, only to find him quickly averting his gaze away from where he had been staring at her face, she chuckled softly.

"So, we should we go?" she asked.

"Well...Actually, I had this evening planned out already, if that's okay with you?" He quickly asked back.

"Oh! Well...Of course, Armin. What are we gonna be doing?"

"That's, ahh, that's a surprise." Suddenly Armin grew nervous once more, and found it difficult to meet her eye.

Before Y/N could formulate a response, the tiny bell rang once again as new customers came in from the slight chill outside. Quickly standing back up, she shot Armin an apologetic look over her shoulder. Back behind the counter, she put on her best customer service front and continued her work.

All the while, Armin watched on from the barstool not far from her, watching her every move with an unconscious smile on his face.

═══════════

Roughly forty minutes later, when the last of the customers had left and the cleanup had been taken care of, Y/N removed her work apron and looked over to Armin, who's eyes were already on her. Attempting to hide his blush at being caught, Armin stood and turned his head away and cleared his throat.

"So uhh...Ready to go?" He asked shyly.

Y/N approached him and, deciding to be a little brave, embraced him loosely.

"Of course! Where are we going?"

Armin embraced her back, all the while trying to keep his cool. He couldn't mess this up...

"Oh, you'll see!" he grinned down to her.

But before she could get an answer out of him, Armin was making his way out of the shop towards his car parked by the curb, tugging her along by her hand.

═══════════

"Armin, c'mon I cant even tell where I'm stepping!" Y/N complained, thought the giggle in her voice betrayed her excitement.

"Almost there....Aaaandd....Here!"

Armin removed his hands from over her eyes so she could finally see. Ever since his car had come to a stop on a backroad a block back, he had insisted her eyes be covered for a 'surprise'.

And what she saw, was definitely a surprise.

There they both stood, in the center of the town's park where they had both met as children all those years ago. Y/N's eyes traveled over the familiar swing sets and tall trees that surrounded the park, memories flooding her mind.

Though the sun had begun it's descent, Armin could still see the light sparkle in her eyes when she turned back to face him.

"Oh Armin, the old park we met in! I'm surprised you even remembered!" Y/N laughed, standing closer to his side.

"How could I forget meeting my best friend, Y/N? And besides, that's not all...." Armin's voice failed him, so instead he simply pointed off their right towards a small slope. Y/N's eyes were quick to follow where he was pointing, and she gasped.

Atop the grass sat a large blue blanket, accompanied by a large wicker basket and a pair of glass cups, accompanied by a couple of candles waiting to be lit. In the very center of the blanket, a small vase of bluebells sat neatly.

Whipping her head back to stare up at Armin in shock, Y/N laughed, almost in disbelief.

"Armin, is that-"

Before she could even finish, Armin was leading her towards the hill with a grin. Once they reached the top, where they could easily view their surroundings uninterrupted, he finally turned back to her.

"Well, I remembered how, back when we were younger and talking about our futures, you had once said you'd always wanted to have a picnic date with someone special. And I thought, why not here? Somewhere special, with someone special...." Armin's voice suddenly failed him again as his cheeks lit up in color.

Feeling beyond touched that, not only had he remembered a childhood fantasy of hers, he had brought it to life before her eyes, Y/N reached her hand forward and caressed his face softly.

"Armin, this is perfect. It's what I had always dreamed it to be. Thank you," and with that, Y/N leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss onto his cheek.

Now that Armin was a complete stuttering mess, Y/N took a seat on the blanket and began rummaging through the basket Armin had prepared.

Inside were many treats and delicacies, as well as drinks and napkins. Smiling fondly at the treats, Y/N motioned for Armin to sit right next to her as she averted her gaze to the heavens.

Hesitantly, he sat. Only to admire her as she admired the heavens.

"You-you're really p-pretty, yknow," Armin stuttered.

Y/N leaned into his side, and finally he relaxed beside her as well.

"Was leaving work early just an excuse for you to finally ask me out on a date, Armin?" Y/N grinned broadly up at the blond.

Armin cleared his throat loudly as his face darkened in color once more.

"I!...Well, no....Uhh....Maybe?"

With a blush of her own, Y/N slowly intertwined her hand with his, much to Armin's surprise.

"I love this, Armin. And...I love you, if it's not too early to say..." Y/N finally confessed, the love he had shown her tonight through his efforts encouraged her to finally be truthful with her best friend.

"I...I love you too, Y/N. Since...Well, forever!" Armin sputtered out, now gripping her hand back with a delicate blush coating his cheeks an ears.

"So, can we consider this out first official date?" He suddenly asked.

Chuckling to herself, Y/N gave his hand a squeeze.

"Yes, I'd very much like that."

And so they sat for several more hours, hand in hand chatting away as the moon made its appearance in the sky and the stars grew brighter.

From discussing about their days, to reminiscing about their pasts together, to simply laying in silence munching on snacks together occasionally pointing out constellations to one another from their makeshift beds, they both finally felt content. With the other by their sides forevermore. Wrapped together in moonlight, a new life, and eternal love.

What a way to end a shift.

#aot x female reader #aot #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #aot x y/n #aot x you #aot fluff #aot armin #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan armin #snk #snk fanfiction #snk armin #snk x reader #snk anime #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin armin #shingeki no kyoujin #armin arlert #armin x you #armin x y/n #armin aot #armin fluff #armin x reader #armin arlet x you #armin arlet fluff

[bonkers-4-hatter]

Damien Bloodmarch X Reader - Picture Perfect

“Dear, have you seen my glasses?” Damien came rushing into your shared bedroom in his work attire looking frazzled, his eyes darting and scanning the room in search of said glasses.

Smirking, you held up the item he was looking for as he breathed a sigh of relief before taking them from you and giving you a chaste kiss on the lips. “Thank you darling, you always save the day.” Shaking your head, he slipped the spectacles on and gathered the rest of his things for his volunteer shift.

“I shouldn’t be too long (Y/N), be sure to be ready tonight for your surprise.” You nodded as you finally decided to get out of bed and begin your morning. “Happy Anniversary darling.” With a final kiss, Damien was off and you were left in the bedroom with nothing but a dopey grin on your face. Even after three years together, you still get giddy and happy every time he kisses you, holds your hand, anything really; it’s like you haven’t left the honeymoon stage.

You moved to the neighborhood four years ago and even though you weren’t a parent yourself, you still enjoyed seeing all the father’s with theirs and seeing them grow with wonderful influences. Working at the school, you got a chance to get to know the kids a bit more as you did see them for the eight hours they were there. Damien was the first to welcome you to the neighborhood and the school, it was a nice change from the last town you were at where everyone was reserved and rude at every single interaction.

Hitting it off with the infamous goth of the town, Damien began inviting you over for tea, movie nights, dinner and soon he mustered up the courage to ask you out on an official date. You remember every aspect of it; it was at his house on his back porch, he laid out a blanket, some pillows and had various snacks, all your favorites laid out and even got you your favorite flowers. That first date was the best you ever had. Damien and yourself lounged on the comfy blankets and pillows, talked and looked at the moon as silly as it sounds, but with Damien, it felt perfect.

Some might say the date was a lazy one or not that memorable, but to you it was everything.

As the hours ticked by doing various things around the house and wrapping your own anniversary gift to Damien as well. You got him a Victorian corset and vintage top that ruffles at the collar just the way he likes.

True to his word, Damien showed up around 5:00 PM and gave you a kiss before running to change. "Stay in the living room until 7 love, it's part of the surprise." Smiling at his giddy demeanor you nodded as he ran toward the bedroom to shower and change.

With grabbing your outfit you decided to change in the downstairs bathroom real quick. After everything was ready on your end, you sat down in the living room and clicked the television on before settling down as a paranormal show started which was perfect as it would fill the hour you had left.

Just as the show ended, you heard footsteps come down the stairs. In his usual attire, Damien stood there fixing his collar and adjusting his rings. Standing, you smoothed out your outfit and went to the kitchen where he was grabbing some stuff.

"You look absolutely ravishing darling." Damien eyed you up and down as he whistled out making you flush with embarrassment.

"Now, to your surprise." Gently grabbing your hand he led you toward the back patio with a basket in his other hand. Once through the doors you smiled at the sight. Everything was exactly the same as your first date all down to the same blanket and pillows.

As Damien finished placing everything out perfectly, you rushed to hug him tight. "This is perfect Damien…thank you." Placing a gentle kiss on your forehead he wrapped his arms around you and brought you with him to sit on the blanket carefully.

"Not nearly as perfect as you, my love." Laughing, you both settled and relaxed as both of your eyes turned to the sky, the moon high and shining as bright as it was the night you both met.

Cuddling up to Damien, you both enjoyed each other's company and warmth.

It was perfect.

#31 fics of halloween #halloween writing challenge #damien bloodmarch x reader #damien bloodmarch #dream daddy #dream daddy x reader #spooky reader insert #x reader insert

[kyufessions]

pink hair dye

synopsis: you help your boyfriends best friend dye his hair at an ungodly hour

pairings: idol, boyfriend! gunil x g.n reader (featuring band mate, best friend! gaon)

genre: comedic fluff

word count: 1k

general taglist: @jwnghyuns @eaudenana @soobin-chois @jungsusvillain

a/n: the way i wrote this during my entire eight hour shift today bc it was so slow and boring today 😭

secretly dyeing jiseok’s hair at two in the morning wasn’t part of your plans, but when boredom (and a full bottle of pink hair dye) calls, you just have to answer. the rest of the members were fast asleep, counting sheep as you two sat up in the living room with a bowl of hair dye and bleach sitting on the head of the man next to you.

“if i get in trouble with gunil, im blaming you.” you mumbled as you mixed the dye, his eyes glued to the random netflix movie that you put on the pass the time.

the younger turned to you, a caprisun straw sitting against his lips. “he won’t even find out, don’t worry about it.”

“has the movie hit the fifteen minute mark yet?” you ask, your eyes wandering to the screen with a squint. noticing that it has, you instruct jiseok to go wash out the bleach before his hair obtains any more damage from the chemicals.

as if on cue, as soon as jiseok enters the bathroom, out comes your boyfriend with a tired stance. gunil lets out a small yet powerful yawn, his face scrunching up tiredly in a way that makes you giggle. he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed against his chest. “i’m almost done with this beat, then we can go to bed. is that okay?” with a swift nod of your head, he sends a small thumbs up in your direction before heading back inside his room quietly so as to not wake jooyeon.

when jiseok hears the sound of gunil’s door close, he gradually opens the bathroom door and shuffles quietly over next to you. both of you look at each other wide eyed, hands over your own mouths to stifle your laughter.

“i could’ve sworn he was asleep by now.” he whispered, drying off his newly bleached hair with a towel.

“me too!” you respond, picking up the bowl and ensuring everything was mixed fully before starting to put it all over the younger man’s hair. “he was so quiet, i could’ve sworn he was knocked out by now.”

minutes pass in silence as you both are drawn to the movie and you put pink dye in the man’s hair. inside of your boyfriend's room sat gunil, headphones on as he got to work on an upcoming comeback. well, that was until he inhaled deeply and smelled something. he wasn’t sure what it was exactly, concern filling his mind with multiple possibilities of what it could be. he slides off his headphones and sets them aside, standing to his feet and opening the door slowly. he took in a small sniff, thinking it smells of chemicals. walking up behind the couch, he noticed you and jiseok sitting in front of the television watching a comedic film. getting closer to you both he realized the dye bowl in your hand and jiseok’s newly blonde hair being painted, putting two and two together realizing that this is where the smell was coming from.

he smiled to himself for a moment, enjoying the view of his significant other and best friend getting along rather well. when he first started seeing you, he was worried that you might not click well with his members. but he couldn’t be more wrong, this moment proving otherwise.

“alright, now let this sit for twenty minutes and you should be good to go.” he heard you whisper, watching you set down the dye bowl under the coffee table in an attempt to hide it.

“what movie are you guys watching?” a deep voice interrupts, leaning forward on the back of the couch with his hands. both you and jiseok let out a small yelp, jumping in your seated spots on the floor and whipping your heads around to see a grinning gunil. a staring contest takes place for a few seconds, all pairs of eyes darting between one another. gunil laughs quietly at the both of you, moving from behind the couch and sitting on the arm of it. “i smelled chemicals and got worried so i came out to see if you both were alright.”

jiseok nods, a smile appearing on his lips as he points to his head. “isn’t the color nice?”

all he does is nod at his member, chuckling at his nightly antics. “i’m excited to see it, but you.” he started, looking in your direction. “you’re helping him?”

you nod slowly, sending puppy dog eyes your boyfriends way. “he asked, and the shade would really compliment his skin tone. villains would love it!”

he just laughs, leaning forward to put his chin in his hand as his elbow props up on his knee. you know he’s just joking and that all of this is a lighthearted manner, so you aren’t scared or intimidated in the slightest. “but will the company love it?”

gunil watches as you and his younger band mates eyes widen once again, looking at one another then ultimately shrugging in response. “i guess we’ll find out in a few hours!” the youngest exclaims, his smile brightening.

he just smiles at him, looking over at you and noticing you staring at his hair. as you remind jiseok that it’s time to rinse out the hair dye, gunil sits there admiring you. his mind starts to wander about how lucky he is to have found someone like you up until you wrapped your arms around him, bringing him out of his daze.

“he makes me feel like a father.” he mumbled as he placed a small kiss to your cheek, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his lap.

“he makes me feel like the cool aunt and a parent all in one, gives me a bit of a confidence boost.” you joke, laughing along with gunil as you both hear the water running in the bathroom. “are you ready for bed? you look tired, babe.”

gunil lets out a small yawn, nodding as he lifts you up into his arms and starts walking towards his bedroom. a perfect yet chaotic end to a perfect and productive night.

#kyufessions xdh #xdinary heroes fluff #xh #xdh #xdinary heroes gunil #xdinary heroes drabble #xdinary heroes gaon #xh gaon #gaon xdinary heroes #xh gunil #goo gunil #gunil #gunil xdinary heroes #gunil fluff #xh fluff

[ashintheairlikesnow]

The Same Bed: Too Late

CW: Captivity, brief religion and alcoholism talk, some big old stabbing fun, explicit noncon (marked at beginning and end with -), derogatory/dehumanizing language, blood, victim-blaming/self-blame/survivor’s guilt, choking

The Same Bed: Part One: Jake | Part Two: Krista | Part Three: Chris | Part Four: Vincent | Part Five: Antoni | Interlude | Part Six: Nat | Part Seven: Owen | Part Eight: Tonight | Part Nine: Reunion | Part Ten: Too Late | Epilogue

-

Somehow, through some miracle, Vince falls asleep for a while. 

With his arms back up over his head, he isn’t sure how it’s possible. They ache, and throb, the pain winding its way down into his ribcage and up to his forearms, but… somehow he settles in just the right way, and the hurt fades just enough, that he finds his eyes slipping closed - and that he’s struggling a little more with every blink to open them again.

He doesn’t know how long he sleeps - Owen pulled the curtains shut over the windows and he has no idea what time it is, day or night. Only that Owen hasn’t come back with Kauri yet, and Vince finds himself hoping as he shifts around in the bed that there’s been a terrible accident that Kauri somehow walked away from unharmed. Just Owen, twisted and mangled in the wreckage and no longer anyone’s problem but God’s.

Not that Vince is all that sure there’s someone watching over all this bullshit - his sponsor thinks so, full on atheist-to-believer story when they met alone for the first time. I don’t know shit for certain, Vince, he’d said, smiling at him over a cup of cheap scalding coffee, in a diner where the waitress thought he was Kauri and looked genuinely disappointed to find out he was just some movie star instead. Dime a dozen in this town, where Kauri... is unique. All I know is before I had God, I had beer. It cost me my wife, my kids, and my job. And after I found God, I didn’t drink another drop. Took a couple more years of AA and therapy after that, but now my ex and I share custody. I figure even if it turns out there’s nothing up there, the belief got me my kids back, so that’s no small thing, yeah?

Yeah. Vince had smiled, a sort of sidelong half-way expression. But... I’m sorry, I don’t believe-

You don’t have to. I’m not asking you to, and I’ll never bring it up again if it makes things uncomfortable for you. It’s just part of my story on why I stopped drinking, and not even all of it. Look on my wife’s face when I showed up drunk to my eldest’s graduation, that’s the biggest reason. God just helped fill in the cracks. If you got something else to do that, that’s good, too.

I don’t know what I have. Vince had water and a coffee in front of him, the ice clinking softly. He couldn’t stop sipping things, trying to bury his need for alcohol in a flood of other liquids that at least wouldn’t tear his liver apart from the inside out. The waitress set their food down in front of them, flat diner burger and french fries, and sighed heavily in a way that told him that she was still deeply regretful he had the audacity to not be Kauri Grant. I like to help out with charity, I do a lot of that. I work with-... with pet lib groups…

So hold onto that, then. It had been a test, to see how his sponsor would react, but the man just smiled and nodded, took another drink of coffee. Vince tried his - it was bitter as hell, and he started pouring creamers into it just to take the edge off. I know the ‘higher power’ stuff can bother people, but you just need to think that a higher power can be anything that helps you. Anything that moves you forward. So maybe in your case it’s that you can be more help to those runaway pets if you’re sober. Yeah? That’s a higher power - doing good in the world. You can hold onto that. Your higher power can be the idea of leaving the world better than you found it.

Yeah. Vince thought of Kauri, having apparently been here before - he lives in a whole other city, hours away from the bright lights and raging monotony of Hollywood, but somehow he’s been down here, and often enough that the waitress had thought she recognized him. What did Kauri do, in all these years since he’d escaped being Vince’s stand-in clone for Owen to tear apart piece by piece?

His throat tried to close, and he gulped burning hot coffee to punish it for the attempt. 

Yeah, he said again, after a long moment’s thought. He thought about Kauri’s face, how it had gone from soft around the edges with shadowed, scared eyes to more angular, stronger, more determined. How he had gone from hiding from Vince to shouting him down to once or twice even offering him a drink when he showed up with a check for the safehouse. You’re right. That’s something to hold onto - doing good in the world. Making it better for having had me in it.

Doing good, whenever he could, even if it was only to help someone whose only sin had been looking entirely too much like Vincent Shield. Making things better for Kauri would leave the world better all on its own, right? So Vince chose doing good. Doing good, and covering his entire house in so many bottles of water it was a wonder there was any place to set down the books he wasn’t reading.

Vince’s eyes pop back open.

Shit, had all those thoughts just been him dreaming?

His arms are still aching, and the slow throb of all the other injured places is increasing as the very last of Owen’s very special drugs wear off. Vince frowns as he hears some movement downstairs - it must’ve been what woke him up. Might be Nat and that Jameson guy, who for the record Vince finds vaguely terrifying. Maybe, except…

No, he hears Owen’s low laughter. 

They’re back.

Vince closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

Showtime, he thinks, and tries to loosen up, shifting a little and gritting his teeth against the spike of pain deep inside of him. How much can he bleed, he wonders, before it’s too much for even Owen to handle?

The sound of Owen’s feet flat on the stairs makes Vince feel sick, his heart racing rabbit-fast. It feels like it’s barely contained by his skin, like it might burst out and run where Vince himself can’t. God, Owen has always walked flat-flooted like that. Vince used to think his ‘elephant steps’ were endearing, way back before he’d been made to understand that Owen had at some point gone from someone who was his friend to someone dreaming about how it would feel to be the reason he was dead.

He’s not surprised to see Kauri in front of Owen as they appear in the doorway, but that Kauri is already naked still stops his breathing in his throat even so. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Owen says when he catches Vince’s stare. “Had him go down on me in the car. Man, driving the 5 with a mouth on your cock is some risky shit. Worth it, though. Kauri always did know how to suck a cock like a fucking champion.”

Kauri stands with Owen’s hand on his shoulder and Owen’s gun pushed into his side. His face is reddened and marked with tear tracks that catch the dim hint of light coming in from the hallway behind him, his mouth is too red and lips still slick with spit. 

The light in the hallway is behind his head, but between he and Owen just so, setting a halo around his black curls, lighting their edges in gold. It would be a good shot in a movie, Vince thinks, even as he pretends to be caught off-guard, looking from Owen’s smile to Kauri’s resigned self-disgust and back again.

“I wondered whose house this was,” Kauri says, dully. When Owen pushes him forward, turning on the light and making both of them flinch, he stumbles at first but then walks, heading for the bed. His eyes lock on Vince, like looking in a mirror of himself years ago. “Should’ve guessed. Hey, Vince.”

“Hey, Kauri.” Vince swallows. Kauri’s taking in his bruises, his nakedness. He can tell, can see those blue eyes travel along the length of him, head to toe, considering the damage that he sees and thinking, maybe, about what damage isn’t visible yet. Looking, Vince imagines, into the specter of his own future.

Short as it’s likely to be, if whatever Nat plans to do doesn’t work.

“I’m sorry,” He breathes, the words are barely audible.

Kauri must hear them, though, or at least guess. He smiles, wry and without any humor but with the kind of affection he’s never shown Vince before. “Don’t be,” He says, quietly.

“Still-”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Kauri-”

Kauri exhales, and shakes his head slowly. “You never did anything wrong, Vince. None of it, not a single bit, was ever your fault.”

Vince closes his eyes against the rush of tears. His heart twists inside of him, wringing itself out. Years of guilt weighing him down, driving him with his nightmares and his terror into the comfort that being blackout drunk could give him. 

Kauri must really think they’re both about to die if he’s willing to give Vince that absolution out loud. 

If his sponsor turns out to be right about that God thing, he hopes Kauri’s endorsement carries some kind of weight with heaven. Kauri Grant, negotiating on my behalf with God Himself. Vince has to bite back a hysterical laugh at the thought. You can be my higher power. Stop drinking, he thinks, so your Kauri will forgive you for ruining his life and tell God to let a bunch of shit go. His teeth bear down so hard on his bottom lip that the flare of hurt briefly wipes his awareness of all the other pain away. 

“Bullshit,” Owen says. There’s a sound as he sets the gun he’s been carrying down on the side table. Vince opens his eyes again to see him spin Kauri around, taking his hair in one hand and pulling his head back, chin lifting until the angle must be painful, until Kauri goes up on his toes to try to relieve some of the pressure. Owen’s green eyes search Kauri’s blue. Vince, for a second, thinks he can almost see the reflection - Owen reflecting something like clear water, for just a second. Algae overwhelming it afterward.

Vince did a documentary on global warming, once. All he can remember about it right now is a bit in his narration about how algae steals the oxygen and destroys the life beneath that can no longer breathe.

Owen smiles. “You know what, Kauri? I kept something, to give back to you.”

“Did you?” Kauri’s throat bobs. His hands are fists at his sides. “Surprised you didn’t throw all my shit in the dumpster like you did my plants.”

“Don’t tell me you’re still holding a grudge over that. Jesus Christ, Kauri, learn to move on.”

Kauri doesn’t hold the laughter back - it breaks out of him, bitter and cynical and angry. Vince watches with genuine admiration as Owen’s face turns several brand new colors in a mix of confusion, alarm, and rage. Still, Kauri laughs, putting his hands up over his face. “I can’t-... you just-... oh my god-”

“Shut up!” Owen slaps him, but it doesn’t even seem to register. Kauri just keeps laughing. “What the fuck?!”

“You are the last goddamn person who can have feelings about how long someone holds a grudge, you asshole. Vince told you no one time, what, fifteen years ago or whatever and you’re still trying to fuck him? Just go buy a goddamn sex doll like everybody else! I ran off a decade ago and you hunted me down and sent my husband’s shitty dad after him, you hurt my other husband, you scared the hell out of my little brother and my best friend, and, what, because you can’t even pay enough to make someone care about you!”

“I said shut up!”

“Oh my god, Jesus Christ,” Kauri’s giggles are airy, he can’t stop long enough even to take a deep breath. “This is amazing, I’m about to be murdered by the world’s shittiest fucking incel-”

Owen’s fist finds Kauri’s stomach, cutting the laughter off into an oof and the sound of Kauri hitting the floor. He curls up immediately, protecting himself on pure instinct just as Owen’s boot tries to land a blow. Instead of soft stomach and vulnerable head, Owen’s foot just hits his hands, his arms, his legs, and Kauri jerks in gasps of air until he can breathe.

And then he starts laughing again, whispering, “Oh my god, I’m going to die because Owen Grant can’t even pay someone to fuck him, oh my god,” over and over while Owen tries to kick him to mush on the ground. Eventually, the blows come fast and hard enough that Kauri has no air left to laugh with, and yet still his body shakes, his hands pressed over his face. 

“Owen-” Vince pushes himself up to sitting as best he can, bracing himself by closing his hands around the headboard. He hisses at the pain, but still he tries. “Owen, stop it! You’re going to kill him!”

Owen stops.

Vince hadn’t thought he actually would, and there’s a moment of silence where the two of them stare at each other. 

His cheeks are bright red, and his eyes gleam. There’s a half-second where Vince remembers Dimmer Switch, how Owen had gotten so much praise for the director for the scenes where he had to pretend to be possessed by the ghost who was killing all the principal characters. It had been the ghost of someone who had been murdered for having some kind of affair three hundred years ago.

Excellent, that is perfect, Owen, just keep giving me that, keep giving me that, you’re amazing!

It’s the same look now, only it isn’t an act. What Vince took for anger he realizes has transformed into something far worse. Lust. 

It had been lust he’d been staring at Vince with, under the lights and on the set, and Vince hadn’t known enough to see it for what it was. But he saw it now. No wonder all the gossip rags thought they were sleeping together.

“Not yet, I’m not,” Owen says, his voice husky and heavy with want. He reaches down and grabs Kauri by the hair, yanking him back up with a cry to his feet. “Come on, baby.” He drags Kauri by his hair, ignoring his limp, the sounds of pain he makes. Vince can only watch, helplessly, as Owen goes to a box he’d left on Vince’s dresser earlier and refused to explain.

Vince had been sure there was some kind of awful toy in there, one of the few things Owen hasn’t subjected him to. Owen shoves Kauri chest-first into the dresser, pressing up against his back as he leans past him to open it. One hand yanks his head back by his hair again. “Stay just like this,” Owen murmurs against his ear. Vince’s stomach flips as he hears Kauri’s pained whimper. Owen yanks again, harder. “Hey. I gave you a fucking order. What do you say, huh?”

“Y-... yes, I’ll stay still,” Kauri whispers, voice shaking. The hysterical mocking laughter is gone, now, and the years and the therapy appointments and everything fall away from Kauri, leaving behind someone younger, more frightened. The person he was before he found the courage to run.

Or maybe just the person he was the night he did.

“Good boy.” Another shudder runs through Kauri, but he holds still as Owen opens the back, and Vince’s mouth goes dry even as bile tries to force its way up his throat.

It’s a collar. Woven white-gold with sapphires, pointlessly expensive, high-necked and wide as he carefully slides it over Kauri’s skin, and closes it at the back. Owen drops his mouth to kiss the side of Kauri’s neck, and Vince can’t see Kauri’s face from this angle any longer but he can hear the hitched sob.

“Beautiful. As always. Didn’t I always tell you how beautiful you were, Kor-Bore, huh?”

He turns Kauri around, letting Vince get a better look at him. The red cheeks, the tears that run freely now. How Kauri wraps his arms around himself, shaking as he’s pushed towards the bed. “Yes,” Kauri mutters. His eyes are down, on the floor.

Downstairs, there’s a soft thump. Owen pauses, his hands on Kauri’s shoulders. For a long few seconds, silence. Vince forces himself not to look towards the door, not to give anything away. He puts a sincere expression of confusion on his face. “Owen?”

Owen shushes him, frowning and sliding an arm over Kauri’s chest to hold him. His other hand finds the gun on the side table. It pushes against Kauri’s side like it had never left. He edges towards the door. “Hanson?” He calls, thoughtful, maybe a little concerned. 

“It’s fine, Mr. Grant,” Hanson calls back, slightly strained. “The little shit can pick locks. Caught him sneaking around and put him back in. Just moving some shit in front of the door to make sure they stay there this time.”

Jameson’s voice is next, rasping cursing full-throated anger. Another thump, then some scraping. Vince feels his heart sink somewhere near his knees. Jameson locked back up... fucks up the plan.

Shit.

“Good.” Owen frowns, kicks the door closed with his foot and leaning over to lock it. He looks back at the bed, eyes roving over Vince’s long body. Green eyes note every bruise, finger-shaped around his hips, oval and with irregular edges along his chest and sides. The cuts, the wounds on his back that stick to the sheets, open and bleed, dry and stick to the sheets again. The black eye and busted lip. Vince knows he looks half-dead already.

Owen licks his lips, and Vince knows he’s never been sexier to him.

“You know what, baby, there’s something I always wanted to try…” Owen shoves Kauri forwards, moving him towards the bed. He has to more or less haul Kauri up onto it. Kauri and Vince meet eyes again - which one of them is the more terrified, Vince honestly can’t say -  before Owen spins him around.

-

Kauri’s back meets Vince’s chest with a gasp, the breath knocked from them both. Owen jerks them down until Vince is lying on his back again. Kauri lays on Vince, his head to the side of Vince’s and his hair in his face. Before he can twist to roll away, Owen grabs him by the neck, the heel of his hand jamming the edge of a sapphire into Kauri’s pale skin, pushing him back into place. He forces himself between Vince’s legs - tied wide open, and long since gone numb. 

In the process, he pushes between Kauri’s legs, too.

“Stay still,” Owen says, almost gently. His thumb pushes against Kauri’s pulse. “Or this is really going to hurt you, Kor-Bore. And you may be a giant fucking slut but you and I both know you never liked it when I hurt you.”

“N-... no-”

Owen’s thumb presses in harder. “You don’t say that to me, now do you, Kauri? Huh? Do you get to say no to me?” His other hand grabs Kauri by the wrist, moves his hand behind Vince’s head. “Grab your other hand and hold it there.”

When Kauri doesn’t move fast enough, Owen snorts and grabs the other hand to shove it back, too. Now his fingers are interlaced behind Vince’s neck, and the position makes his back arch a little bit. His ass is pressing against Vince’s pelvis and hips now, half-grinding down on him, and Vince feels some strange sense of horrible pleasant pressure.

“Owen-” Vince’s voice is thin with holding Kauri’s weight. He shifts uncomfortably. “Owen, please, please, for the love of God, don’t fuck him on top of me-”

“Ssssshhhh.” Owen smiles down at the two of them, pressing a finger to Vince’s lips. Kauri’s breathing is so fast and so shallow Vince wonders if he’ll black out from lack of oxygen before anything actually happens. “I’ve been dreaming about doing this for so fucking long, Vince, you don’t even know. Two of you? Fucking amazing. I feel so fucking jazzed, you know? I bet I could come in you both in an hour or less, I bet I don’t even need a refractory period tonight, just fuck you both to death.”

Vince’s eyes widen, and Kauri’s shoulders shake with weeping. There’s another thump from downstairs. Vince dimly hears scarred up little piece of shit slut through the door. Some more thumps. I’ll fucking show you-

A cry.

Owen hesitates, looking towards the door. “Hey, Hanson, do you need-”

“I got this! I got the little shit handled this time!” Hanson sounds breathless. 

“Good.” Owen’s voice drops back to a mutter. “Vince, you fucking prude. Never done this before, huh? Well, it’s sure not Kauri’s first threesome. Is it, baby? Hm? You can tell me and Vince. Just between us.”

“N-... it’s not,” Kauri gasps. Owen takes the hand off his neck, briefly. He pulls something from his pocket, then starts working his pants down over his hips, not bothering to undress any more than he has to for what he’s about to do. “Had… a ton of them, all kinds of-... Owen, please, oh god-”

Owen chuckles. Vince can’t see what he’s doing but by how Kauri goes suddenly tense enough that Vince wonders if his bones will just full-on snap from the pressure of his muscles, he thinks Owen is working a finger inside. Then two. And it won’t be easy, and it won’t be kind, and Vince aches in sympathy with him, his own damage still a constant reminder. “How many?”

“Wh-what?” Kauri’s voice is breathless, whispering, thin.

“How many threesomes, Kauri? Huh? How many times has my little slut been exactly what I made him to be?”

“Don’t know. A, a hundred? Maybe more? I don’t know, probably-... probably less, they’re less fun than you think un, unless everyone is up for it the same amount and-... Jesus fuck,that hurts, it hurts, shit-”

“That’s okay, baby,” Owen says tenderly. He leans forward, fingers buried inside of Kauri, and kisses him. Vince closes his eyes, but he can’t escape the noise, the sounds of spit and tongue and lips and Kauri’s soft protesting whimpers going higher and higher pitched. Owen finally pulls back, and kisses Kauri’s forehead. “It’s supposed to hurt. And it’s going to hurt a whole lot worse than this before I’m done with you.”

“Owen-”

“That’s not what you call me.” Owen shifts on the bed, and Vince listens as Kauri’s soft whimper suddenly ratchets to a high pitch. It’s all he can hear, the sounds of pain as Owen forces himself inside, the weight of him pushing Kauri’s him down so Vince’s bruises ache, the fingers that have already torn and bruised and marked him now making the same smudged black-and-purple shadows on Kauri. “God, you always felt so good. So fucking good. Made for me, huh? My little slut, just for me, my little Vince whore who never says-... says no-”

Kauri cries out and the bed rocks as Owen thrusts forward, finally burying himself fully inside based on how Kauri’s body arcs like he’s been struck by lightning, shuddering, his hands pressing hard to the back of Vince’s neck. 

“Good boy,” Owen murmurs, and pulls back, rocks forward again. He takes up a slow, almost ponderous rhythm, and Kauri’s whimpers and cries go on and on and on. Vince wonders if Hanson found Antoni, did away with him, if that’s what the thumps were. If Jameson and Nat are already dead. If everyone is dead but he and Kauri, a house of corpses and a madman whose eyes are wide and rimmed in white as he smiles down at the two men he is destroying.

“Hurts-” Kauri whines against Vince’s ear, and then he goes suddenly still. Vince opens his eyes as Owen’s hands close, slowly but with deliberation, around Kauri’s throat. “No-”

“You don’t say no,” Owen says, voice low and soft. “Ever again.”

“Owen, no, please, he hasn’t done anything wrong!” Vince begs shamelessly, closing his hands into fists. He feels the metal cuffs around them, rattles the chain that connects him to the attachments on the headboard. He takes a deep breath. “Let him go and just take me, Owen, you always wanted me, right? Just take me! Just-”

“I’ll take you after,” Owen says, and never even looks at him. “But first…” He thrusts forwards, and when Kauri cries out Owen’s hands grip onto his throat and start to squeeze. “You shouldn’t have run away from me,” Owen mutters. The headboard smacks into the wall, thunk thunk thunk thunk. Kauri’s cries are whispered, now, barely making it out of the pressure closing his throat. “You can’t run if you’re dead, huh? Can’t run away from me again, never again, never again never again, never again-”

He loosens and tightens his grip in rhythm with his thrusting, with his words. Kauri’s body writhes on top of Vince’s, and his hands leave their spot at the back of Vince’s neck.

How much death does Owen need to stop, for this to be over? The thought is barely human, moving through Vince’s mind like the wail of a banshee, a beseeching plea and a warning of coming death offered in something more instinctive than words. 

There’s a thud at the door, then another.

Vince could laugh - the cavalry is coming, about five minutes too late to do any-fucking-thing about it.

They are trapped animals under the hunter’s hands and nothing more. Vince’s heart, desperate to keep beating, races to push oxygen into every cell, his mouth is open to pull more in from the air. He’s going to die, the both of them are going to die before that door breaks down.

Vince just… wants this to stop.

It has to stop. 

Kauri’s spine arches, shoulder blades and lower back digging into Vince’s collarbone and pelvis respectively. His hair spills backwards over Vince’s face and spreads out on the pillow. Through gaps between Kauri’s wild black curls he can see Owen, green eyes now narrowed and focused, his lip pulled back from his teeth in a snarl.

He can feel his hips snap forward, can feel the trickle of something warm that he realizes is Kauri’s blood.

“No,” Vince whispers.

The sounds at the door ratchet up, someone throwing themself against it from the other side. There are words buzzing like flies, shouted through, but Vince can’t hear them. He can only hear, and feel, Kauri fighting to survive.

Kauri’s hands grip at Owen’s wrists, claw helplessly at his knuckles and fingers, even as they squeeze and release, squeeze and release. The collar is going to leave marks in Kauri’s throat, bruises maybe a coroner will understand but maybe wherever Owen is going to put him will leave him lost for so long there won’t be any evidence left to find. 

They’re both going to die, Kauri and then Vince.

What had Jameson said?

When you kill someone, you own them. You own their death.

Owen’s going to own them both, in a way that no one else ever will.

How much death before it’s over? Will it stop with us? Will he kill Nat and Jameson? Will he kill Antoni?

Will he just find someone else who looks a little like me, and start again?

Will he just find someone else?

Something in Vince feels, suddenly, disconnected. This moment is happening to his body but not to him, and some deep logical part of his mind reminds him of something he had forgotten. A step he’d taken years ago, made a habit and forgotten about, in every place he’s ever lived since he ran from Owen the first time.

Kauri’s hair brushes against his lips, tickles up the inside of his nose. Kauri’s frantic struggles are starting to slow, his desperate attempts to find air are little more than brief whistling gasps. His fingernails have dug bloody lines into the backs of Owen’s hands and wrists but it doesn’t matter, and he’s starting to falter.

How much death before it stops?

Vince hopes he’s strong enough for what is about to happen, strong enough to see it through to the bitter, awful end.

“Pl-please-...” Kauri’s mouth is moving but the whisper barely exists, now. His hands fall from Owen’s, finally, and his body goes limp as Owen’s thrusting reaches a fever pitch, as the headboard smacks into the wall so hard Vince knows it’s knocking divots out, paint scrapes and bits of drywall drifting towards the ground. “Mr… Owen… please d-don’t-... please-”

“Goodbye, Kauri,” Owen says, breathless, smiling as he forces himself back in deep once more and goes still, letting out a soft and shuddering sigh. “God, I loved fucking you so, so much...”

How much death?

The answer, in Vince’s mind, comes with a brutal swift certainty.

Just one more.

Owen’s eyes close, as he savors Kauri’s body still shaking and shuddering even as Vince knows the light is fading from his eyes. Dying on his cock and under his hands. Owen hums, leaning over, pressing a kiss to Kauri’s lips, stealing what little air he can still find.

-

Vince takes a deep breath.

Then he jerks his arms forward as hard as he can, feeling the handcuffs that Nat had left a little loose pull taut. He doesn’t care about hurting himself or pulling a muscle any longer. He just pulls as hard as he can and ignores the way his body screams at him.

One of the chains snaps.

His left hand drops, and before Owen has even opened his eyes fully Vince has found the knife he’s been hiding under his mattress since he was twenty-one years old and came home from the hospital sure Owen would appear in the night to finish what he started. He’s had it in every apartment, in his first and second house, now in this one. He’s never, ever moved in without this same sharp knife slipped between the frame and the mattress the very first night. He’s never slept in a hotel without it.

Owen starts to move, his green eyes startled.

By the time he takes in the broken chain, by the time he can even start to understand what he’s looking at, Vince is already jamming the knife sideways through his throat and ripping it to the side as hard as he can. 

Owen lets go of Kauri, pulling out of him to grab at his own neck, and Vince stares at the bright red waterfall of blood. It drips hot onto his thighs. He can’t make his fingers go loose around the knife. Instead, he pushes himself - and Kauri, still limp on top of him - up and jams the knife in again.

And again.

And again.

Oh, God, it smells, the blood smells, hot and copper salty-sweet smell overwhelming him. Owen chokes on it, gasps around it. It pours down his throat into his lungs and comes back up out of his mouth as he coughs, collapses to one side, clawing at it like Kauri had been clawing at his hands just a minute ago, and just as helpless to make the violence stop as Kauri had been.

Vince’s stomach flips, and he turns to throw up over the side of the bed, but there’s nothing in his stomach and it’s only sour bile and saliva, blood and spit, nothing else exists in the world but this. 

The door bashes open, slamming so hard the knob hits the wall, and Vince is aware of something, some kind of other presence, and if it’s Hanson he’ll kill him, too.

Kauri’s mouth is open. He’s limp, warm, falling as Vince’s moves. His head tilts slightly to the side against Vince’s neck. Vince can’t tell if he’s even still breathing. It’s all so far away. It’s all so distant, feet away from his awareness even as he’s the one who just committed murder, even as there’s a maybe-dead-man lying on him, even as his bed is full of fresh blood and old, dried and bright, and Vince owns Owen this time.

He owns Owen Grant’s death.

He owns the life that Owen stole from him.

It’s his and Owen can’t have it ever again.

He-

Vince’s stomach revolts again, and still it’s only clear spit that drips down onto the floor. 

A hand is over his where he still grips tightly to the knife, and he jolts back into awareness, turning to look up and to the side to see Nat looking at him. She doesn’t hesitate at the sight of the blood. She isn’t frightened of his hand holding the knife. She only says, softly, “Vince, he’s dead now. It’s done.”

“N-Nat-... Nat, I just-... oh God.” He starts to shake, the knife clattering down to the ground. “Oh God, oh God, oh God-”

“I’m so sorry, honey. I’m so sorry. We couldn’t get up here in time, Jameson had to-... it doesn’t matter. I’m so sorry-”

“Kauri-” Antoni runs in, shoving Owen, who is still twitching, onto the floor like he’s a blanket on a too-warm night and grabbing at Kauri with his dark eyes full of an unfamiliar panic. He pulls Kauri towards him, limp and with his eyes slightly open in a way that Vince has seen in too many movies but never in real life before. 

“We were too late,” Nat whispers, and Vince wonders if someone can visibly break apart with the weight of guilt. It looks like she might. “For you both.”

There’s blood on Antoni already, and Vince wonders if Hanson is dead yet or still dying. It was a hell of a fight, and based on how Antoni looks, one he barely won. 

Antoni’s hands are on either side of Kauri’s face, and he leans forward, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, briefly his mouth. “Kauri? No, no… Kasha?” There’s no answer, and Antoni’s expression twists into an ugly, guilty grief. “Kasha! Nyet! Nyet, nyet, YA dolzhen byl vas spasti, no ya opozdal… mne zhal', Kasha, ya opozdal… nyet, yubov' moya, nyet-”

One arm is around Kauri, holding him upright, while the other pushes two fingers just under his jaw. Antoni lets out of sob, dropping his head to Kauri’s shoulder. “Yego serdtse b'yetsya, slava bogu, mne zhal’, Kasha, mne zhal’-... I love you…”

“Antoni?” Nat’s voice is tight. “Ant, tell me-”

“His heart,” Antoni says, weeping, his accent so thick Vince can barely understand a word he says. “His heart, Nat, my Kasha-...”

“His heart what, Antoni please-” Nat’s voice is shaking. Vince wonders how many of the runaways she’s lost to death over the years. If losing Kauri would hurt more than most, after he’s been a part of her family for so long, or if she would just… mark him down on whatever list she keeps within her of everyone she didn’t save.

“His heart… his heart, it beats,” Antoni gasps. Downstairs, there’s more muffled thumps, the sound of footsteps on the stairs. “His heart, my Kasha, my Kasha is alive, my Kasha-”

“Kauri-” Jake is in the doorway and then he’s at the bed and Vince isn’t sure how it happened in an instant, but it did. Owen’s dead body barely notes a glance for the big man, only something he steps over as he throws himself across the room, arms around Antoni and Kauri both at once, holding them both. Kauri suddenly coughs, gasps in a thin burst of air, shakes all over. 

“Kauri-” Jake’s eyes search over his face. “Kauri, talk to me, please, please, please-”

“Kasha-... pozhaluysta govorite, Kasha-”

“My h-head,” Kauri croaks, barely audible. His eyes open more, glazed-over and foggy. “H-hurts so f-fucking much-”

Someone lets out a breathy laugh, Vince isn’t sure which one. They hold each other, the three of them, and Vince thinks there isn’t any world outside of them, as far as they’re concerned. For now. 

Nat looks over at Vince, not at the three on the end of the bed, and he wonders what it costs her to care for him first and leave Kauri to Antoni and Jake. But when he meets her eyes, she doesn’t look like someone who would rather be holding anyone else. She’s looking only at him.

“Vince,” She says, voice low. “I’m... not going to ask if you’re okay.”

“Yeah.” He manages a shaky, barely-there laugh. “F-for the record, I’m really not, but…”

“Let’s get you cleaned off,” She says, smiling with a soothing, soft warmth. Something about it - how she doesn’t linger on his wounds, or look pitying - is exactly what he wants… needs… to see. She has to go pick up the key off the dresser to unlock his other wrist cuff, and he can’t hold back the groan of pain and relief as once more his arms are both down at his sides. Nat eases him to his feet, and they make a slow, painful, shuffling walk to the enormous master bathroom. 

God, he hates that bathroom.

He hates everything about this stupid house.

“Hey, Nat?”

She hums, helping him move into the shower. He never realized until now how the silver is beginning to overtake the brown in her hair. He wonders if he stopped dyeing his own, how long it would take to look the same. “What?”

“Can… can I come stay with you for a while? My, um. I think I want to move out.”

When Nat laughs, Vince starts to laugh too. The water turns on in a spray of heat against sore, tired, bruised muscles. And they laugh, hysteric and exhausted, until Vince starts to cry. But for the first time since he was twenty-one, it isn’t fear he’s crying with.

“I think I can find the space,” Nat says, finally barely getting her voice under control. “Jameson won’t mind. He’s downstairs, uh… cleaning up. We’ll tell him. He won’t mind.”

“Won’t he?”

“Okay, he will, but… I don’t know, Vince. I think he’ll like you a lot more now.”

“Will he?” That gets another laugh, more relief than good humor. Vince slides to seated in the shower, pain throbbing everywhere and sort of nowhere at the same time, tipping his head back against the wall. He can hear Antoni and Jake talking over the sound of the water and through the open door, the pauses where Kauri must be whispering back to them. “That’s funny.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I… I think I like me more now, too.”

-

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @astrobly @thefancydoughnut @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears @hackles-up @grizzlie70 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @keeper-of-all-the-random-things

#whump #the same bed arc #noncon tw #noncon touching #noncon kissing #violent noncon #sadistic whumper #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #obsessive whumper #bruised #beaten #choking tw #brief talk of religion #brief talk of alcoholism #natalie yoder: here to help the rescues #vincent shield is not a hero #antoni sings lullabies #jake the shelter guy #erase to control #owen grant is a nice guy #also a dead one! #whumper death #stabbing tw #stabbed #knives #Blood #blood tw #so much blood #bbu

[thiswasinevitableid]

Beware the Bear (Indruck)

The winner of the "spooky places" prompt poll was 24 Hour Arcade

Credit to Bellafarallones for initially playing in the "only nice when a werebear" super villain space on discord.

The Halloween season is the only time Kepopolis becomes less grim. The winter holidays offer too much contrast, too much of a reminder that the world could be warm, bright, and peaceful if only somebody gave a damn. The rest of the time there’s nothing to offset the gloom, no way to ignore the tombstones of utopia clouding the skyline. Not without feeling like an ostrich whose head is in the sand while a lion runs off with its body. 

Come the end of July, the city reaches an agreement to spend three months coated in orange and purple lights and fake cobwebs, to pretend everything is a horror movie backdrop that will roll away when November comes. 

Mothman’s Arcade is no exception, though Indrid prides himself–as owner–on going above and beyond when it comes to Halloween cheer. He’s rather pleased with this year’s purchase of new, blacklight responsive skeleton banners, which flap cheerfully on the walls as he clocks out, Kirby waving to him as he comes in for his midnight to eight a.m shift. 

It’s eight blocks home, blocks he could do blindfolded, and there are even two streetlights between here and there. Maybe that’s why he lets his mind wander far enough that it’s like being yanked by the throat when someone speaks to him. 

No, wait, someone’s hand is literally on his throat. 

“Okay pal, we don’t want any trouble.” The taller of the two muggers pushes him into an alleyway, behind a dumpster where he has no chance of being seen, “wallet and anything else you’ve got.”

Indrid passes over his wallet, knowing full well there’s nothing in it to steal. The second robber opens it and frowns, “you got anything else? Maybe some cash you’re taking to the bank after emptying those machines?”

He tries not to think too hard about the fact he’s been stalked from work, nor about the fact he does have an envelope of cash he’d been planning to deposit in the morning. 

“Hey, shithead, you heard me, you got any cash?”

“No. I do not have any.” He lies. 

His back bangs into the dumpster as four hands shove and tug at his clothes, coming away with the envelope. His heart sinks; there goes payroll and his nose. 

“You lying piece of-”

Both men leave the ground at the same time, their feet kicking in the air as huge, furry paws grip their scruffs. 

“Now fellas, I’m gonna give you two options: you either give this man back his money and walk away, or I take his money back and toss you in that dumpster.”

The envelope smacks Indrid in the face, sneakers pattering away before he gets it back into his pocket. 

Were-creatures aren’t unheard of in Kepler, and there was a very nice were-cougar who used to come to the arcade after work to place Pac-Man. But he’s never been this close to a werebear, and even on all fours the monster’s snout is level with his face. 

“You okay, slim?” One blue eye and one brown one look him up and down, “they didn’t hurt you too bad?”

“My back is bruised” The adrenaline is dying and his fingers are starting to shake, “I, I’m more shaken up than anything else. And honestly feel very foolish. I know better, I just, I live here, I know here and, and do I look like the kind who has money on him??”

“Nah. But in a cool punk way, not in a bum way.” The werebear pads beside him back onto the sidewalk, “you want me to walk you home? Just in case those chuckleheads get any ideas?”

“Yes, please. It’s not far.” Indrid turns towards Oak Avenue, follows it until Pine, the werebear staying a polite distance to his right, occasionally stopping to throw litter into the nearest trash can.

When they reach Eastwood Apartments, Indrid hesitates. 

“They ain’t followin’ us, if that’s what you’re scared of. Can’t smell ‘em. Just you and” he sniffs the air, “couple of raccoons. Aww, there they are.” He smiles as the masked faces look up from the rain gutter at him. 

He’s so cute. And huge. And Indrid’s apartment is cold this time of year.

“Would you like to come up with me? I haven’t had dinner and it seems only polite given you helped me.”

“If it ain’t too much trouble, sure.”

There’s a slight amount of trouble navigating a werebear up the narrow stairs, but they manage, and his guest sniffs out the water glasses while Indrid opens the fridge. 

“I warn you, I have only the fanciest foods. Behold” he presents the boxes of pizza rolls with a flourish. 

The werebear laughs, “Hell yeah you do.”

Indrid heats the rolls as claws gently click across the fake tile, his furry protector studying the art and posters on the walls and frowning at the shaky kitchen table leg. Since the chairs are not werebear sized, Indrid perches on the arm of the couch as the werebear happily sits and leans against the wall. 

“May I know the name of my guest?” Indrid swings his legs.

“Duck. It’s a nickname.” The werebear drops half the plate of rolls into his mouth, “So, uh, Indrid, what’s it like workin’ at an arcade?”

“How did–oh, yes, my nametag–well, it has its benefits and it’s annoyances like any job. But the hours suit me and I own the place free and clear. Plus being in charge means I pick what goes in the vending machines.”

“You get free play too?”

“Yes. Also the discretion to give tokens to who I please and select the least grim plushes for the prize counter.”

“Who gets free tokens?” Duck finishes his plate.

“Anyone who saves my life, for starters.” Indrid winks at him, gets an ear wiggle in reply. 

“Wouldn't turn down a few, especially if you got old school games. Or Tony Hawk ones. Seriously though, how do you decide who to give ‘em too?”

Indrid explains and finds four more follow up questions waiting for him. Duck makes conversation like a man who hasn’t heard a human voice in ten years. Indrid doesn’t mind one bit. 

Eventually, his body reminds him he needs at least a little sleep, and he yawns. 

“Oughta let you get to bed.”

“I suppose…” Indrid bites his lip, “but I really am enjoying spending time with you. If you have somewhere to be I completely understand but, ah-”

The werebear stands, snuffling the top of Indrid’s head, “Okay slim, I’ll keep you company until you fall asleep.”

Duck covers his paws with his eyes while Indrid changes into his pajama pants and a sweater, then lays down next to the mattress. He’s big enough that his head is level with Indrid’s as they lay in the dark. 

Indrid falls asleep on his stomach, but when he wakes up during the night, he finds he’s draped an arm over a snoozing Duck. 

When he wakes up again, it’s to cursing and the sound of someone rifling through his rickety dresser. 

“Nooo” he whines playfully, “don’t go. You’re so warm and fuzzy, you should stay here.”

“Yeah, well, warm and fuzzy time is over.” A gruffer version of last night's drawl is accompanied by a shutting drawer, “I’m taking these swears and one of these tank tops.”

“Oh, of course.” Indrid sits up, putting on his glasses, “It hadn’t even occurred to me that you’d need clothes if you changed back while here.”

“Bettin a lot of things don’t occur to you.” Duck pulls on the shirt. It stretches across his belly and dark hair peeks through the collar. This softens the insult severely. 

“Well, you’re welcome to them. I have a sweatshirt that might fit too, you can drop it back off at the arcade when you have a chance.”

“Got better things to do than return some kids' laundry.” 

“In that case, no sweatshirt, as I happen to like it.” Indrid stands, crossing his arms, “if you are being defensive because you are afraid I will tell people you are a werebear, you do not need to be. I know people do not always treat the unfamiliar well. Your secret is safe with me.” He tries to meet Duck’s eyes, but the shorter man keeps looking away from him. His face is round, handsome but hardened, and all Indrid wants to do is run his fingers over it. 

“That ain’t what I’m afraid of. Honestly, ain’t afraid of anything you’d do, skinny. I could break you in half. All the same, this never happened, y’hear?”

“Perfectly.” Indrid sits back down, “Is there any chance I will see you again? Perhaps in a less, ah, grumpy mood?”

Duck opens the door, pauses, then says, “doubt it” before stepping through and slamming it shut. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------

There was a time where waking up next to a cute guy would have made Duck’s day. There was a time where a lot of things would have made his day; seeing a cool plant, talking with Juno, leading a tour group. 

That was before. This is after. Now if only he could remember that four all the days of the month. 

His lunch is a protein smoothie and a sleeve of Thin Mints, which he bought two full moons ago, making one Brownie’s day.

He looks at the cookie in his hand. He bets Indrid would love cookies for lunch. 

No. That Duck doesn’t come out again. Not until next month, anyway. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------

Barclay sips his from his travel cup, emblazoned with the logo of Amnesty Lodge, as he and Indrid stand in line for the ATM in the evening light. 

“You want to go see the new Scream movie with me? Brian bailed.”

Indrid isn’t surprised, given that his friend’s boyfriend seems like he’d prefer anything to spending time with Barclay. 

“I’d love to.”  

He moves one spot forward in line, then hears Barclay groan, “guess we’re getting our cash somewhere else.”

Indrid turns to see a supervillain striding towards the line. It’s the Bear, in his beaten duster coat and black mask, boots tromping on the concrete. 

“Everybody moves aside, nobody gets hurt.” He doesn’t even have to flash the gun on his hip; Indrid and the others all move away from the ATM, giving him unimpeded access. 

He’s heard the Bear is a very physical villain. He’s still not expecting him to just walk up and punch the ATM to get at the cash. 

There’s an ease and confidence to his strength, and when he hauls his bag over his shoulder it’s like he’s daring the world to take him on, just so he can give it a black eye to keep it humble. 

Indrid’s wondering what else he could do with those arms when Barclay nudges him and says, “C’mon, let's go grab dinner. I found this new sandwich place you’re gonna love.”

As they walk towards one of the less battered sections of Old Town, Indrid does wish he could have gotten a better look at the villain. 

He regrets this wish a week and a half later when, around two in the morning, a bank alarm sounds two blocks from the arcade.  A few seconds later a masked figure comes into the view through the window and ducks inside the arcade.

The Bear scans the consoles and Indrid pretends to be very busy with his inventory of tickets and tokens. Heavy footsteps that stop at the counter tell him this has not worked. 

“You the only one here?”

“Yes.” Indrid turns, keeps his eyes on the villain’s chest or lower. Which is a bit tricky since he’s actually taller than the pistol-packing example of Kepler’s finest cottage industry. 

“You gonna say anything if they come in?”

“No, as I am much less durable than an ATM. If it is of use to you, that room there” he points to his right, “is mainly full of machines that do not work. No one would ever go in.”

The Bear gives a grunt of assent and disappears through the glow in the dark curtains. Indrid returns to his checklist, only to put it down two minutes later as three cops shove the doors open and make a beeline for him. 

“Hey kid, you alone in here?”

Like any seasoned bystander of Kepler, Indrid lies. 

“Yes. It’s a very slow time of night for us.”

“We’re gonna have a look around all the same.”

He smiles, “Of course, officers. Oh, ah, but do be careful” he points to the glowing curtain, “my repair room has a leak in the roof and there is a terrible mix of water and loose wires in there.”

The cops do a short circuit of the main room, poking their heads into the storeroom, break room, and Indrid’s office before saying, “All clear. Night, kid.”

As the bell dings at their exit, Indrid mutters, “why does everyone keep calling me that? I am thirty-three.”

He’s still musing aloud as he kneels and starts unboxing plushes for the prize shelf. Just as he decides the Bear must have snuck out the back door, weather beaten boots step from the curtain. 

“Nice hiding spot you got back there.”

“Thank you.” Indrid looks up, which means he’s staring at the Bear’s crotch. A roaring, golden grizzly sits as his belt-buckle above a tantalizing bulge in his pants.

“Appreciating the view?”

“I, ah, I” he blushes, figures there’s no harm in a flattering truth, “yes.”

A hand roughly ruffles his hair, “Consider it a thank-you.” The hand moves through his hair again, slower this time, almost gentle, “and you oughta fix up that two-player Pac Man. It’s a crowd pleaser.”

“I will keep that in mind.” He starts to look up farther, to catch a glimpse of that handsome face in the colorful lights of the machines, but the Bear lets go as he tilts his head, turning his back and sauntering out of the store. 

Indrid hopes he’ll see him again, just for the masturbation fodder, but he doesn’t. There’s no sign of him around for weeks, and so Indrid figures he left for a new neighborhood. That or something scared him away. It’s that exact thought he’s mulling over when a knock comes to his door and he opens it to find a different kind of bear altogether.

—----------------------------------------------------------------

Duck spent two weeks and change avoiding any place he might see Indrid motherfucking Cold, in spite of the fact his werebear senses, dulled as they are when he’s a human, kept picking up his scent around town. 

So what does he do the minute he transforms? He turns his useless-ass paws towards that skinny weirdo’s door. The moon wasn’t even all the way up yet. 

By the time he’s there, he’s feeling much better; there’s no harm in having a friend he sees once a month. Or maybe even more than a friend, if Indrid is into the idea. 

The human is surprised when finds Duck on his doorstep, but the resulting smile is worth every second of arguing with himself about this. 

“Thought I, uh, I’d check to see if you needed a walk to work? Or if you turned out to be at work, was gonna offer to walk you back.”

“I start at midnight this week.”

“Yeesh, don’t know how you do it.”

“I have always been a night owl of sorts. I used to stay up drawing until I passed out in my crayons.”

Duck follows Indrid inside, chuckling, “You’re like a little moth.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Y’know, all nocturnal and interesting to look at. And you got those tattoos” He tips his snout at the Luna moth on one shoulder and the Emperor Moth on his arm.

Indrid cocks his head, “Duck, have you been trying to come up with a nickname for me?”

“Maybe, uh, I mean, uh, fuck, I…yeah.” He scratches his ear sheepishly. 

“I’m flattered you’d spend so much time thinking of me.” Another smile, a touch more guarded.

Duck drops to all fours so he can meet Indrid’s eyes, “Hey I, uh, I wanted to apologize for last time. I know I was a dick the next morning, and I shouldn’t have been. In fact, that was me trying my damndest not to be, in some ways. When I get all fuzzy I get, well, fuzzy in here too” he taps his chest, “when I ain’t always the nicest the rest of the time. If that means you’d rather I scram, I can. I gotta patrol some tonight anyway.”

Indrid pets his cheek, dooming him to months of trying to recreate the touch with his own fingers, “Thank you for apologizing. And explaining. I’d very much like company on my way to work, and you’re welcome to play and, ah, shoot the breeze, as they say, once we’re there.”

“Sounds great” Duck nuzzles his forehead, “I’m gonna go patrol; when I’m like this, it’s easy to be a hero for folks, and I like to help when I can. See you at midnight, slim.”

“See you then” Indrid purrs. 

—-------------------------

Indrid takes his spot in the tour bus; the Monongahela is beautiful this time of year, and he promised himself that he’d finally get around to taking the tour up the Greenbank summit to see the view. 

As the bus putters forward, he pulls a postcard from his coat pocket. It was waiting for him this afternoon. 

There’s been one in his mail every three days for the last two weeks. 

This one is of the Kepler waterfront. On the back, in slightly sloppy writing, is this:

Hi little moth, 

You ever been on the ferris wheel here? I went as a kid. It’s how I learned I was scared of heights. Wouldn’t stand on anything taller than the front step for months. 

We should go some full moon. I know a real cool spot to see river otters. 

-Duck

The messages have all been written in the same pen. His address has not, and the writing looks like someone’s hand was being forced across the paper. All he can figure is that the reason Duck left early to “run an errand” was so he could write all these before his cranky self returned. 

Untangling his feelings about that is barely started by the time he reaches the summit. He wanders out with the rest of the group, reads the few signs and takes in the view. There’s a firewatch tower near a small, seasonal gift shop, and he looks up to see a man in a ranger uniform watching the visitors, stony-faced all the while. 

Then he sees Indrid and pulls his hat down over his eyes before crossing to another rail. 

That does explain why so many of the postcards are from the national forest.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

In Duck’s defense, he thought Roswell crashing the governor’s civic celebration banquet would keep the cops occupied the whole night. That’s the only reason he’s now running for the one place in this neighborhood he knows he can hide. 

Indrid is behind the counter like last time, looking exasperated rather than afraid when he sees who it is. 

“Same room as last time?” 

“Damn right.” Duck slips into hiding, listens as Indrid does the same song and dance with the cops as before. 

Huh. The two-player Pac Man has definitely been tinkered with since the last time he was here. 

This time, when he steps through the curtain Indrid is waiting for him. 

“You know, I have a perfectly functional back door. You do not need to make me lie for you. You could just run out that door and into the alley or up a fire escape like a sensible villain.”

Duck is not in the mood to be lectured. Not by someone who could never understand what it’s like. 

He grabs Indrid’s shirt and shoves him against the wall, pressing close as he growls, “Let’s get on thing real clear: I can make you do any goddamn thing I want.”

Indrid’s squeak of alarm is not as alarmed as Duck needs it to be right now. 

“Heh, I get it. You’re one of those villain chasers.”

“Nono. If anyone is it’s my friend, I am certain he reads fan-fiction about villains abducting civilians and I will stop speaking now, apologies I babble when, when-”

“Nervous?”

“That’s not quite the word I’d use.” Indrid leans closer, peering at his face, and asks the worst possible question. 

“Do I know you?

“N-no, uh, fuck, you, you don’t not, fuck”

He should punch him and run. Yeah. That’ll work. 

Duck balls his fists and yanks Indrid into a kiss. The other man stiffens, then melts with a moan and cups Duck’s face, kissing him back like he knows him. Duck could break the kiss any second he wanted to, he could, if Indrid would just stop touching him, stop making pleased little sounds and hooking one ankle around Duck’s calf. 

Indrid pulls away, humming happily, and smiles, “You should consider solving more of your problems that way. You are very good at it.”

Duck’s heart sings with affection. So he snarls, shoves Indrid into a pinball machine, and runs out the door. 

—----------------------------------------------- 

It’s not Duck’s fault.

It’s not his fault that Indrid looked so sad in the early morning light, not his fault Indrid chose to wake up extra early so he could bid the werebear goodbye (because Duck had decided to spare him dealing with his grumpy human self come dawn).

It’s not his fault. Just like the dock fire wasn’t his fault. Just like it wasn’t his fault when he saw what the city was doing to Agent X and couldn’t convince them to stop. Just like it wasn’t his fault that they goaded Athena into leveling two city blocks. Just like it wasn’t his fault that when Kepler Chemical blew it’s goddamn top, he was the only member of his team to survive. 

Indrid Cold is just some guy. Duck will not be responsible for him. 

“Ahem.”

Indrid Cold is just some guy who is now standing in the door of the firewatch tower. 

“We need to talk. And please do not try to lie, that is torture beyond anything you can do as a villain.”

“I uh, I-”

“Duck.”  Indrid says more firmly. 

“What? You want a fuckin medal for putting who I am together?”

“No. I want…I wanted to talk with you as human you. Because I am not sure how much of when you are a bear you remember, but last night you begged me to be your boyfriend.”

“And you said no.” It comes out pathetic and defeated.

“Correct. Because I do not want a boyfriend who is kind to me one night a month. Who only wants to see me one night a month.”

“I do.” He bites his tongue, which does nothing.

“You do not act like it. You barely act like human-you sees me as a person, even when he’s not in his villain outfit.”

Duck takes a step closer, “Indrid, a whoooole lotta folks have tried to talk me out of the villain thing, and they offered way more than some skinny freak who’d let me fuck him now and then.”

Indrid’s face remains placid, “I’m not trying to talk you out of anything, or into being a hero again–yes I said ‘again’, anyone with any sense can work out who you used to be even if you or the city won’t confirm it–I am telling you that I am not going to be wooed one night and ignored for thirty, even if the one night makes me so very deeply happy. I think whoever you are when you are a werebear is still in there, and I want that person.”

“I ain’t sure I can give him to you. It’s…it’s complicated, little moth. I got my reasons for things and while they ain’t all noble they ain’t because I get my kicks being an asshole.” He tucks his hands in his pockets, feeling two-feet tall, “but I hear what you’re sayin. You don’t want me around, you say the word and I’m gone. Give you my goddamn word.”

“And what if?” Indrid closes the space between them, “I said I wanted you to try going out to dinner with me like this? Just once, after I get off work, as casual as you like.”

Duck meets his eyes, “I’d say The Bear ain’t one to run from a challenge.”

Indrid kisses him once, “Tomorrow at eight?”

“I’ll be there.”

Indrid turns for the door, then looks over his shoulder as he says, with a wink, “and if you come early, I might even give you some free play tokens for the pac man game I just fixed.”

“You got a deal, slim.”

#indrid cold/duck newton #indruck #taz amnesty #superhero au #supervillain au #werebear #human/monster romance #monster boyfriend #promptober

[girlindelusionn]

first of all, i literally love ur acc. b99? ts? barney and robin? robin pt 2 but hot lesbian stranger things version w insanely cute x reader fics? YES PLS. secondly, i saw that u were taking reqs for robin (buckley) fics and i think a song fic / fic inspired by the song “lover” would make me pee my pants but really. i want it so bad. i would be 1000% honored if u decide to take this req <3

alright so i fucking loved this. first, you were SO sweet, i'm crying, i love you so much. second, taylor swift is probably 91% of my personality so it works perfectly. thank you @leadmetodgarden for such an amazing request!!!

(i hope you meant lover by taylor cause if not this is awkard...)

the thing is, i got a little too exited...

i've written, as of right now, more than 10k, which is way longer than i've ever written, (imma one shot type of gal) and i still have one chapter to go

also before i post this i wanna clarify two things:

english is absolutely not my first language, this was written with the help of google docs and google translator, every mistake is immediately and utterly their fault

i'm not that sure of how christmas actually works there in the united states. i dont think you guys have Christmas Eve dinners that last until midnight, cause you open your gifts the next day (lame!), but for the sake of the fic, let's pretend you do

quick summary:

five christmasses with robin <3 (alternative tittle: almost plotless fluff)

finally, here it is:

i want them all, robin x you (part 1!)

“And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear.

Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?”

part 2 here

Christmas sucked. It always did. Too much sugar and alcohol close to families who were a little bit too close to collapse entirely. But this year, on the contrary, it was just too quiet. You and your family were completely new in town, having moved just a couple days ago. Maybe it was the absence of controversial family members, furniture or feeling of home and belonging, but not even your parents were in the mood this year. 

You had dinner at eight, watched half of the worst christmas movie on the tiniest, shittiest tv and they were both already in bed, fast asleep. 

There were still two hours till midnight and you were not going to spend them on your mattress on the floor. It was just too depressing. So you grabbed your bike, a book, a blanket and your walkman and biked until you found a Seven Eleven. 

There isn't a single soul out, but you can feel the festive vibe on the hair. All the houses are carefully decorated and music is going through every single door. It seems like you are the only one who isn't celebrating. 

Well, you, the cashier and the girl outside, who are having a heated argument through the glass door.

"Oh, cmon, Kyle! It's Christmas!" she yells. The dude is on the door, physically stopping the girl from coming in.

"Exactly! My shift ended seven minutes ago! No. More. Customers."

Seeing that you are already on the register waiting for him to charge you, Kyle closes the glass door on her face. She responds with her middle finger, but you didn't think he notices. You hand him your things and he begins to scan them. 

"That'll be all?" he asks. You look to the side. The girl is still there, even with this cold.

"No, actually. Wait a second, please." You hear him complain when he sees what you’re going to do, but you don't care.

You approach the door and get the girl's attention. 

"What do you want?" you ask. The girl, who’s sitting on the floor, right next to the door, looks up with confused eyes. 

"No! Don't worry, he's just being a dick."

"No, c'mon. What do you want??"

"Are you sure it's okay?" 

You nodd repeatedly, as you hear Kyle yell "Hurry up!" from behind. 

"Just a coke and some chocolate?"

"Great!"

You get her stuff and pay for everything. You even give Kyle a five dollar tip, but he keeps the same pissed off expression. You get your bag and hurry out of there, wishing him a Merry Christmas on your way out. 

Out you meet the girl. She’s taller than you, maybe for a couple of inches and has a blue dress that’s now stained with mud and blood? but she doesn't seem to be aware of it. She’s also shivering from the cold, her jacket not being able to put up a fight against the cold of December.  

"Thank you!" she says as soon as you are out the door. "You didn't have to…"

"Well, it’s Christmas after all" you give her the stuff. She gives you five bucks and you don't have the heart to tell her it was more. She looks like she isn't having the best day ever.

"Yeah…" she looks down at the bag with a sigh.

"I hope that chocolate is okay?"

She looks up again, with a smile this time. She has a nice smile. "It's perfect. I'm Robin, by the way."

"I'm Y/N."

"Nice to meet you.” her rebel hairs dance around with the wind and she’s still shivering, but instead of going away she asks “I’ve never seen you around… Are you visiting for the holidays?”

“No.” you shake your head “I actually moved here a couple days ago.”

“Oh…” there’s a weird undertone there, but you can't quite place it “Welcome, then.”

You accept the gesture, giving her a smile. It almost seems like she hates this place as much as you do, which is weird and kinda scary, but also makes you feel a little less alone.

“I, um… I should get back?" You see her hesitate in the last part of the sentence. It’s pretty obvious she does not want to go back to wherever she came from.

You try to find an alternative, a way to make her stay even a second longer, but you couldn't figure out a single reasonable explanation for why you, two complete strangers, should spend the night together. So you agree with her. "Yeah me too." 

"I don't really want to…" she confesses. You’re glad she did. 

"Me too"

"Crappy Christmas at your house too? " she asks, you chuckle and she smiles harder. 

"Yeah"

"I…" she doubts for a second, but your eyes meet hers with kindness and reassurance so she keeps going "I know it's kinda weird for me to suggest this, but I could, maybe, show you around?… I feel like I should pay you back in some way."

She looks embarrassed and absurdly cute, so there's no other chance but to say yes.

"Yeah, I picked up the serial killer vibe, but honestly it has been one of those days. So let's go."

You bike in silence, occasionally making a turn, with the wind hitting your faces like buckets of freezing water. And just as you're about to ask how long is this gonna take you find the building.

It is old, huge and it looks like nobody had painted it for at least sixty years. The fence was closed, obviously, but she didn't mind. You watched amused and impressed how easily she climbed up the fence and trespassed school property.

And if you weren't already sure you liked her this was probably a very clear indicator. 

She guides you through what is going to be your high school the rest of the school year. You had to admit, it was way better inside than outside and had a pretty sweet auditorium. Still, it was smaller than the last one.

“And… here's my favorite place.” she says as she points at the old library door. You wait for her to open it, like she did with all the rooms before it. She notices. “Oh, they actually close this one during the nights. Someone, definitely not me, may have stolen a few, definitely not more than ten, books and manuals.”

You laugh. She was more of a nerd than you had thought. Interesting. She watches through the window on the door with sadness in her features, so pass your hand through your hair till you find the perfect tool. A hair pin. It's a little old and it might break, but it was your only option. 

“More than ten?” you ask as you kneel in front of the lock.

“No way! Does that actually work? I always thought it was movie bullshit…” you hum yes, focused on your task. “It was thirteen books, by the way”

“Thirteen?” you laugh. 

“I know! But I swear I was going to give them back…” you look at her with an eyebrow up and her innocent face falls apart “Eventually.” 

“Aha…” you tease and she wants to protest but you finally get the door to open “There it is!” she squeals with excitement and that's the cutest sound you’ve heard in a while. “Just no more playing book thief” 

She laughs and comes into the room, you follow right behind. You settle your things at the biggest table, Robin does the same, and even though there were still twenty minutes till midnight the two of you kinda set up a fake Christmas table.  

When everything is in order you take the liberty to explore around for a while. They have good stuff, nothing too special. It needs an update, of course, as many things do these days. But, overall, you aren't so mad about the collection. Until, of course, you see the reading list for sophomore year.

“Robin!” you call out to her. She sticks her head out the language alley and looks over, curious. “Have you seen this shit?”

“Wha– oh, you’ve found the reading list. I know.”

“Not a single woman?” she nods in agreement, “What year are we? Fucking 1935?”

“Totally. And! The whole deal this year is, like, horror and science fiction. How do you teach horror and science fiction without Frankenstein?”

You agree with her, still offended. “It 's ridiculous.” You complain as you both go back to the table. You try sitting down, but it feels… odd. “This is weird, right?” She nods, so you settle for a space of floor between bookshelves. “Better”

“Much better.” 

You talk and you share your food and complain a bit more about the educational system. After a while her eyes focus on one of the books behind you. You turn to look too. You’re in the poetry section and the book she’s staring at was a compilation, written by someone called Emily Dickinson. You haven’t heard about her, poetry wasn’t really your deal. But you did enjoy it.

Robin leaves her spot on the floor to grab it, and you’re confused when instead of keeping it for herself she tries to hand it to you.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Well, it’s Christmas after all. And you’ve already given me all of these…” She points at the food spread on the floor “So this is your gift.”

You smile “I haven’t even started at this school and I already have stolen something…” You reflect. Robin starts to second guess her decision.

“If you don’t like it it’s totally fine, I–“

“No, I love it. Thank you so much, Robin.”

You fall into a comfortable silence that doesn't last much longer. 

"Can I ask you a question?" she says. 

"Yeah."

"If you could run away…" she starts, and you see how her eyes light up with possibilities from just thinking of making it out of here "No money needed, no strings attached. Where would you go?"

You think for a while. "Italy" She seems to like the answer.

"Can I ask why?"

"My grandma lived in Italy most of her life. I want to see every place she talked about. And you?"

"Everywhere except Hawkins" she sentences. You smile sadly, how terrible her life had to be for her to want to escape so badly from her hometown. "But Europe is the dream, for sure."

You don't want to be disrespectful, but the mystery was eating you up. What is she doing here? What, or who, is she running from?

“Can I ask what are you doing in the school library at eleven forthy two on christmas eve? Or is it too soon?”” you don't want to make her feel uncomfortable, so you ask carefully. 

She lowers her gaze. Fuck, you blew it. 

“Im sorry” you whisper. She shakes her head and looks up with an expression you can't quite read.

“No, it's fine.” she sighs, grabbing another chocolate before starting to talk “Extended family came over. Aunts and uncles and little cousins type of Christmas.”

“Uh, rough.”

“Yes” she chuckles. “And my parents are usually cool, but family approval has always been their achilles heel. So you know, clean house, no swearing and this stupid dress.”

“Honestly, the dress isn't that bad” 

“Cmon…”

“I'm serious!” you say but it's obvious she doesn't believe you. “It’s like… you know when you eat those little candy balls? And how sometimes the colors get mixed up and you eat a red one but it tastes like a blue one. It looks like that. It's not bad, it's just not… sincere? I guess”

As soon as you finish your deep analysis you notice she was staring. Head slightly tilt to the side, confused expression, like she’s trying to figure out how the hell did you come to that conclusion. 

“That's exactly how I feel. Constantly.”

“That makes two of us.” You cheer for your problems with the two cokes you’d bought, which, thanks to the weather of December, were still pretty cold. “So, apart from sexism and really bad taste in books, is there anything more about Hawkins that you need to warn me about?”

Her eyes light up and you don't know if it is from the implicit question of a future together, but you hope so. There’s something special about this girl.

“Oh, there's so many people I need to warn you about! So many assholes” you can't hold the laughter that escapes your lips. She said it with such an innocent smile.

“That's great! So excited to start, then” Your sarcasm makes her laugh too. 

“At least we can shit talk together?”

“Robin Buckley, you're officially the first, and only, person I like in this entire town.”

“Honestly? You too.” You cheer again, just as the clock showes midnight. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

“Merry Christmas!”

#wlw #stranger things #robin buckley #robin buckley x you #dating robin buckley #robin buckley x female reader #lgbt

[fullofgutsndopamine]

bring me to the valley (where it all began)

or: you invite co workers over for a halloween movie fest. hasan is the only one who shows up.

tw: anxiety mention, cursing, food mention

“Let’s see-anything else?”

your eyes slide over the table in front of you, full of snacks you spent most of the day preparing, half bent over the stove, stirring multiple pots and searching through pinterest so everyone would be happy

“maybe one more dip?” you hum, checking the time-still about thirty minutes before anyone’s due. “just so everyone has options.”

Your hand is on the handle of a cabinet, about to yank it open and tear through it for ingredients when a knock on the door almost makes you smack your head against the shelf.

“It’s fucking-“

you begin, untying the apron from around your waist and throwing it on the table as you make your way to the door.

throwing it open, the co worker you hoped would RSVP no stood there, a towering mess of freckles and curly hair, too big glasses pushed up on his nose.

he has the nerve to smile, stand up a little straighter when the door is open:

“Hey!” he smiles, “about time-“

“you’re over an hour early.”

his eyes narrow as he grabs his phone out to his pocket, you catch a glimpse of his dog as his background, know because he never shuts the fuck up about his dog at work in-between customers

“Oh,” he tries to play it off like he didn’t spend the entire walk up to your floor thinking about it, chewing on his nails until all that was left was bloody stumps, “Well-no sense in leaving now, right? besides, i can help you get ready.”

he all but edges his way in, his foot cutting to the door and opening it wider for him to squeeze through. before you can argue, a small plate is pressed into your hands.

“what is this?”

he shrugs, like you’re dumb for asking, like it isn’t obvious.

“brownies.”

“Hasan-“

“It’s rude to show up without something for the host. They’re good. my own secret recipe.”

you know hasan has a reputation at work for not being a good cook, for living off boxed food and cans, always the butt of a joke that he made it as long as he has

“oh yeah?” you hum, lifting a corner of the tinfoil up, “what’s the secret ingredient? box mix or-“

“What is this anyways?”

he cuts you off and before you can wonder if it’s on purpose or malicious or overthink it you walk over to him, where a mess of plastic web is, something you tried to set up at two in the morning last night when you were too anxious to sleep

“a spider web.” you hold in the duh, “but it fell on me halfway through-“

he stands back with his hands on his hip, his head titled to the side: “i got it.”

he sighs, like a middle aged father who got pulled into doing a honey do list-

“hasan,” you huff, “i didn’t fucking invite you over to fix my shitty decorations. besides, that’s the whole point. let me-“

“i got it in here.”

he says instead and before you can argue he turns to the wall and gently, carefully, like it’s delicate and will break any second.

“go on,” he says, and his voice is low and gentle, not what your use to his-voice usually loud and cracking, borders on losing his voice every shift from yelling and talking, trying to be over heard everyone, “seriously.”

slowly, you go through cabinets.

without seeing him, it’s less intimidating, taking down some flour when you speak:

“what are you suppose to be anyways?”

you can hear him huff, even from a room away, “i’m a magic eight ball. ignorant-“

“an eight on your shirt does not make you a magic eightball. also!” you huff, “what part of inviting co workers over for a halloween movie night screams costumes to you?”

suddenly he’s in high school and underdressed or over dressed, whatever it is it’s wrong, always the butt of a joke and the reason for the elbow in someone’s ribs-

“halloween spirit or whatever bullshit,” he says, “really it’s rude that you aren’t wearing one, host and all-“

“you’re right,” you’re finally laughing, “i owe you a costume-“

“and i always collect,” he says gently, the laugh loud in his voice, “don’t forget.”

the hour passes, then another.

you’re sitting on the edge of the couch, eyes pinching and on the verge of tears, hating that hasan is seeing you so pathetic when he speaks, his voice low:

“got any popcorn?”

you look at the display of snacks on the table in front of you, the clean up you’ll have and all the fucking left overs-

“popcorn?”

he doesn’t elaborate, stands, pauses long enough to give your knee a squeeze before he disappears.

you take the opportunity to wipe at your eyes, feeling dumb for crying and even dumber for feeling this way-the cabinet shuts quietly and you can hear the microwave buttons being pushed, the ding of it and the hum of the rotating plate in the microwave.

he comes back a second later, hands you a small bowl and napkin wordlessly.

“what’s our movie?”

“hasan,” you sigh, not looking at his eyes, hoping he doesn’t see how red they are, “you don’t have to stay-“

he rolls his eyes: “i’m not going anywhere. i came here for you, for a movie. i’m staying. go on, press play.”

his foot nudges yours gently, eyes in the screen, both of you quiet as you flip through it.

“hasan,” you’re finally laughing, “we don’t have to watch a horror film-“

it’s twenty minutes in and he’s already let air out from between his teeth, made two excuses to run into the kitchen and his hand has laid on your shoulder as he looks behind you, insisting dropped some popcorn and was cleaning it up.

“what are you talking about?” he rolls his eyes, digs his hand into the bowl of popcorn that sits on your lap, “i fucking love scary movies.”

“mhm,” you nod, “your hands are shaking.”

His head whips down to his hands, where he flips them over as if he’s looking for evidence: “No.” he counters instead.

“Can i see your hands real quick?”

“why?”

you roll your eyes, “just let me see your hands, idiot.”

he huffs but knows there’s no way out of it, has them hanging in the air. he almost got away with it, if it wasn’t for his pinkie that gently shakes in the air.

“i’m just nervous,” he huffs, “it’s not the fucking movie-“

“do i make you nervous?” you giggle, gently elbowing him, hoping he doesn’t call you out for how pink your face is.

“you wish,” he snorts, but leaves it at that.

“So,” he says gently, his fingertips play with the edge of your hair, both of you acting like his hands aren’t heavy weights to them, “let’s talk couple costumes-“

“so we’re a couple?”

you’re teasing, obviously, but you’re still side eyeing him, like you’re both waiting to shy into one another.

“Ha,” he laughs deadpanned, but doesn’t say anything else, “so i’m thinking nothing fucking punny-“

“you have no sense of-“

“fuck!”

the music comes to a loud crescendo, just as a shower curtain is flung back, just in time for hasan to put his hand on your shoulder, hide behind you again.

“That movie wasn’t even fucking scary.” he says as the credits roll, “i’ll pick the next one, and it won’t be so fucking dumb.”

he reaches over you for the remote, lingers a little longer than necessary before he sits up, remote in hand and a smirk on his lips:

“thanks for inviting me.”

his voice is so gentle you’d almost miss it, his eyes on the screen

“thanks for coming.”

he hesitates, before reaching, squeezes your knee one last time before clearing his throat-

“anyways,” he sighs, “this one will be better because historically-“

you tune him out, easing into the seat with a smile on your face and your heart beating fast in your ears.

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