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wizkiddx · 3 years

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supercluster

this is my entry for @hollandsrecs 'toms birthday fanfic fest' event - go check it out!!! I know its a early but im v bored so have it now. also im acc kinda really proud of this one, any feedback would be v appreciated 🤍

the prompt was: 'you and tom are best friends and you tell him that you love him on his birthday'

summary: its toms birthday but he has a few things to get off his chest and into the night sky, y/n joins in with a bit of a revelation too

best friends -> lovers

warnings: mentions of alcohol, bit angsty but promise ends all fluffy and a shit tonne of dialogue

wc: 3.5k ishhh

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Everything got a little too wild and stuffy in the living area, Haz and Harry screaming sweet caroline, whilst Greg (Tom’s stunt man) was pouring *another* round of shots. The sweatiness and clamminess of the room meant Y/n took a moment to escape, sliding out the double doors, and closing them softly behind her to ensure no one would notice her little escape. Something about the midnight air, the slightly dewy smell of the neighbouring fields, felt like it was refreshing Y/n from the inside out. When she turned around, back facing the fancy rented house, she was slightly shocked by Tom standing in the garden. It was his birthday party after all. In all honesty, Y/n felt a bit guilty she hadn’t noticed he wasn’t in the thick of it with his brothers and castmates.

His silhouette was set against the clear night sky, the stars extra prominent this evening and the moon casting a soft glow off the left side of his face, exaggerating the natural contours of his jawline and cheekbones. Clearly, he was enraptured by the sky, staring up at it with a thoughtful look on his face.

And Y/n recognised that look instantly; she knew what he was doing.

In fact, he had taught her to do precisely the same thing. As kids, the Hollands, Y/n’s family and another two families from the local area all went camping together. It was an annual event, ‘the Kingston collective camping adventure’ as Dom had named it. Y/n couldn’t remember a year when they hadn’t gone actually - it was that much of a tradition.

One year, though, when she and Tom were about 9, her mothers’ due date coincided with the camping dates. So, sensibly, the decision had been made that Y/n and her brother would just be looked after by the Hollands - whilst her mum and dad were safely tucked up in bed at home, awaiting the arrival of her littlest brother.

Y/n, her brother Alex, and Tom were all sharing a tent, and it must’ve been at least midnight that Tom was awoken by shuffling and zipping up of the tent. He’d realised she was gone through sleepy eyes and, without a second thought, went to go find her. Sure enough, she wasn’t far away, not even 50 metres from the tent, crouched on the grass. Immediately Tom’s presence had been noticed, making Y/m quickly snivel and wipe her face.

“Are you upset?”

“Go away Tom.” The comment didn’t do a lot, though; instead, 9-year-old Tom had planted himself down next to her - his pyjamas getting wet on the moist grass floor.

“Are you missing Auntie Sarah and Uncle Mike?” In the same way that Y/n called Nikki and Dom auntie and uncle, the Holland boys mirrored the nicknames for her parents. Y/n replied with a long sigh before hiccuping, failing to control the stream of tears. Yes, he was right - this was her first night away from her parents- but she wasn't about to spill her heart out to the 'stupid boy' who had stolen one of her marshmallows that evening. Tom’s little brown eyes swelled, looking slightly terrified and out of his depth, whilst with all his 9 years of wisdom, trying to come up with an answer.

“Do you want to play football to forget about it?”

Unsurprisingly Y/n shook her head violently. Tom cursed inwardly at himself for saying the wrong thing, apparently football wasn't the answer to everything. The two children went back to silence until Tom had the metaphorical light bulb moment. “My mum told me something for when I got to sleepovers? Look!” He grabbed Y/n’s little hand, extending it upwards towards the night sky.

“No matter where you are, you’re all looking at the same stars too, right?”

Tom jumped a little before looking over his shoulder and recognising Y/n with the softest smile that grew across his face. Y/n slowly walked to his side, arms crossed over her chest to try and keep the cold at bay, joining Tom in staring up at the starry expanse.

“How do you always know?” Tom spoke in a breathy chuckle, shaking his head slightly. It was true, she did always know - but his question was somewhat irrelevant. They'd spent most their childhood together, they were as easy to read as a children’s book to each other.

“Missing home?”

“Sort of, I got my own slice of home with the boys and-and you but… pads, mum dad yeh, feel like on your birthday your always supposed to see your family.”

Although Harry, Harrison, Sam and Y/n had managed to fly out to surprise Tom on his birthday- prior commitments meant his parents and youngest brother hadn’t been able to make it. They four arrived yesterday, greeted by a very shocked and pretty emotional Tom - who had clearly been missing the sense of home somewhat. He’d been away shooting a film, then straight away launching into press for the next spiderman movie. It had been a long while since he’d been in London - half a year in fact.

This time too, he’d been away without a single family member or friend - that was another truth he’d learnt about growing up. Your friends and family, they all get lives of their own. Tom used to be a trailblazer, the first to get a job, the one everyone was super proud of. They still were, of course, but didn’t dote on him in quite the same way - everyone had their own shit to deal with. It was yet another reason Tom wasn’t welcoming his birthday as much as he usually would.

“Your parents did always spoil you rotten.”

“They spoilt you worst and you’re not technically their kid.” Y/n rolled her eyes, even if it might slightly true - muttering a ‘touche’ at the brown-haired boy next to her. Their families had always been close; naturally the adults seemed to gravitate more to the kids that weren’t their own. The ones who you could ‘give back’ at the end of the day. It just so happened Nikki and Dom had always loved having Y/n around, maybe a bit more than anyone else.

“Have you had a good birthday then? You should be in there with Greg pouring that shitty vodka down your throat.” Y/n questioned, whilst shrugging back toward the house, the dull thump of Jacob's playlist just audible. Still, both stared upwards, standing close enough that their upper arms were both pressed up against each other. She expected a jovial answer, but even from his tone, it was evident there was something up. He sounded…weary?

“I’m bloody glad you all came...don’t get me wrong, I love Z and Jacob and everyone but….”

“Shitty week?”

“Shitty birthday week of promo and press.” Tom scathed, and Y/n nodded. Even if she couldn’t understand what was so bad about press, she knew that Tom hated it passionately. And in the same way, he loved all his castmates dearly, but they hadn’t known him his whole life. They didn’t understand why he did every little thing; their values lay just that bit apart. It just wasn’t the same as being surrounded with his family - you and Harrison adopted Hollands too.

“I just feel like I’ve spent all week trapped in a room answering the most stupid, irrelevant and inconsequential questions... Everything’s just so surface level and fake and, and I-“He cut himself off, for the first time meeting Y/n’s eyes. In all honesty, Tom got a bit caught up in the stars reflecting off her piercing y/e/c eyes before changing tack.

“Will you do me a favour?”

This wasn’t spoken with the normal Tom tone. It wasn’t joking or jovial; it wasn’t an ‘off the tongue’ thing. This was spoken with such seriousness and gravitas coming from his deep voice that Y/n replied equally truthfully.

“Always T, you know that.”

“Will you please ask me a personal and serious and deep question?”

She got where he was coming from too.

Clearly, even though the evening was supposed to be a light piss up in celebration, it had instead unearthed some darker thoughts that Tom had been harbouring away. Perhaps he never even realised he needed such seriousness, or perhaps with his castmates he hadn’t felt comfortable exposing himself like that. Either way, Y/n was going to respect him now. It was technically his birthday, too; the clocks had already struck 12 - it was now his day.

It wasn’t tricky to think of one; she’d often wondered the same question of him - never with the opportunity to ask. The question popped into her head again, almost as soon as Tom asked for one.

“Okay…. What’s your deepest regret that makes you feel guilty for feeling because in the grand scheme of things, it minor? Like such a 'first world problem'." What do you regret that’s just completely selfish?”

Tom immediately stiffened, his jaw tensing as he worked through his thoughts in his head. Scared she’d pushed it too far, Y/n averted her gaze back to the sky, chewing her bottom lip slightly. It took a moment, but then she saw Tom turn towards her, in the peripheries of her vision. With a tightly closed-lip smirk on his face he joked “If your gonna ask questions like that, we better sit down.”

And so they did, both sitting crossed legged on the ground, knees brushing against each other. Just on the grass lawn, almost mirroring themselves all those years ago as kids in that camping site. Y/n wondered if she should offer to play football instead - to cheer him up.

“Missing out. I miss out months at a time. Miss out on seeing mum and dad, miss out on the pub quizzes with the boys, miss out seeing you… I mean, I didn’t even know you had a new job until you mentioned it this morning. I miss out on time with nana Tess and all my grandparents, and that’s scary cos… well, every time I go, it could be the last time… I don’t know, I just… I get so much, get to travel, to see the world, but… sometimes it feels like I’m sacrificing the foundations. And without the foundations….”

“The walls come crumbling down.” Y/n finished off his sentence quietly, barely whispering the words - but from Tom’s nod of agreement, it seemed like she’d hit the nail on the head. There was silence for a beat till Y/n whispered to him.

“Well, happy birthday to you” Trying to bring the mood up a little, she bumped his shoulder, and Tom chuckled breathily.

“Seriously! This is helping me out. I-I just need to get everything out and start my 25th year fresh.”

“Hey, if that’s all you want, I’m getting a refund on my present- we can just get deep and interview each other.”

“I’m game, except I’m keeping the present too.”

“Just because it’s your birthday and I’m a bit tipsy, I’ll allow it.”

“Okay, well then, Y/n L/n”, He spoke formally, leaning in closer and making her giggle a little. “What’s your biggest regret?”

“Honestly?” Tom just repeated her in reply, but this time it was a statement.

"Honestly."

He really was going deep too. No holding back now. Y/n sucked on her cheek before replying. “Not travelling with you when we were 19… I was just so determined to get to uni and start grown-up life, but… well, grown-up life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I should’ve tried to stay a kid longer, messing about on your film sets and pretending it was work. I think I would’ve learnt more from seeing the world with you.”

“Well, I am very knowledgable.”

“Shut up, you drop out- who didn't know what a drag race was.” She wasn’t wrong, and whilst yes, he had dropped out to be a film star - he was still a dropout. (with exceptionally poor knowledge of RuPaul) He scowled, then leaning back on his hands, so he was half reclined on the grass as Y/n thought of her next question.

“Whats your biggest worry?”

“Easy.” He chuffed, making Y/n furrow her brows at him. Clearly, he’d already thought of this. “That I finally settle down with the love of my life, and then the fans or press or paps ruin it.”

It made sense; every time Tom had gone public with a relationship, it had ended in a minor car crash. Typically it was also the girl who got hurt; she was the ‘victim’ in everything. Though Y/n had seen first hand the effect it had had on Tom - he never made it out damage-free.

“You make it sound like you’ve already got this dream girl queued and waiting.”

“I wish”, Tom sighed, as Y/n took the opportunity to completely lie down on the grass, staring up at the dark abyss. She’d always loved the stars and had become a bit of a geek on them as they’d grown up too- and maybe it was all down to Tom on that camping trip. Following suit, Tom copied her, his head resting on his hands that were crossed behind his head, taking in the moment of pure peace as they lay on the grass.

“You see that bright one there?” Pointing up, Y/n shimmied closer to him so that he definitely saw the same thing as her. “It’s actually not one. Look closer.” Humming, Tom shifted a bit closer, so her shoulder slotted under the side of his body just the teeniest bit. It meant he could follow her direction and squinted up at the little patch of the sky.

“ 5…maybe 6? What is it?”

“The pliedes supercluster…. basically a big group of stars that all were born from the same place- the same stellar nursery.”

“But they’re moving now?” She hummed in confirmation to his question, briefly glancing at the way his eyes were fixed on the sky. For the first time he seemed genuinely interested in hearing her stories of the stars. It usually was an eye roll and ‘you’re so lame’.

“They’re called the sibling stars… like everything in life, as they get older they drift apart but…. but to us down here? They’ll always be associated together because they have a gravitational effect on each other. They’ll always have their thing tying them together. Like an invisible string.”

“Sounds like you’re being metaphorical.” Tom chuckled, expecting a taunt back but receiving nothing except a gentle agreement.

“Theres also actually 7. The last one people can only sometimes see… it’s a pulsing star, so comes and goes.”

“They do that?”

“Yeh, and no matter what… if you can see it or not, it’s always there. Always having an impact on its family.”

Biting his lower lip slightly, Tom repositioned his head slightly, Y/n’s words taking time to be fully absorbed. He was sure she was making parallels to him. Barely there, appearing and disappearing, but always a part of the family.

“You are being metaphorical.”

“Maybe.” She whispered shortly. “Metaphors depend on who’s listening and if they draw parallels to their own life. It’s subjective. You can’t tell anyone what is and isn’t metaphor…. it takes the beauty out of it.”

“Right, sure... But if you were…. me, harry, Sam, pads, you, Haz, Tuwaine? That the 7?” Y/n held back the little smile at his words. Tom wasn’t as ‘head in the clouds’ as she was- he was literal. Also, he was bloody stubborn when he wanted to be.

“I wasn’t being metaphorical T.” He knew she was lying. She knew that he knew. But it still helped him, made him feel a bit better. That he was always, in some way, having some effect... lives always intertwined with the people he cared about the most.

“Tell me another story about another star.”

Time for the rest of the night kind of got lost. The two young adults just lay on the grass, entirely in their own little world, using each others body heat to keep themselves warm through the early hours. Neither felt remotely tired, Y/n whispering her little stories of both the myths and science of the old stars, pointing out each planet. Meanwhile, Tom listened in awe, for once not taking the mick out of her incredibly geeky hobby. Instead, he found himself getting fascinated by all the little intricacies Y/n was so passionate about.

It was only when the stars began to fade, as orangey-red hue started to seep up from the horizon the either noticed the time. It was now the morning of the next day, the house long since had turned silent behind them - presumably, everyone finally passing out shit faced.

As the stars’ light was overtaken by the rising sun, Y/n ran out of stories; the two settled into silence - neither quite ready to go to bed yet.

“It’s still my turn,” Tom spoke into the sky before pivoting his head to look Y/n in the eye, seeing the confusion in her furrowed brows. “It’s my question to ask. My turn.”

“Aren’t you sick of my voice yet?” There was absolutely no reason that they were both whispering. It wasn’t like anyone was trying to listen or that they’d disturb anyone else my talking normally. But it was nicer that way. It felt calming... intimate even.

“One more. And then you get one more… and then we really should probably go to bed.” He didn’t want the night to end; he was immensely enjoying this weird grey time between being 25 and 26. But it was cold, Tom could tell Y/n had started to feel it a little more. To be fair, she was only in a floral day dress, not much in the way of warmth. With a hum of agreement, Y/n smiled lightly at him, urging his question.

“Whats the biggest secret you’ve kept from me?”

With a bit of a scoff, Y/n sighed and closed her eyes, trying to draw some strength she wasn’t sure she had. It wasn’t like she needed to wrack her brains to come up with it - she knew instantly. Almost painfully too.

“Uhm, honestly?” Now even more intrigued, Tom nodded, using his foot for nudge hers - encouraging her to speak. “Probably how much you mean to me.”

“Oh” He couldn’t help it; the sound just slipped out his mouth without checking with his brain first. That answer had just been so unexpected. He had honestly been thinking that it would be something about how ‘fame had changed him’. After hearing that, Y/n turned her head up the sky again, feeling like her cheeks were on fire with embarrassed heat. Tom knew he had fucked up.

“No, I… I didn’t mean- just just ask me too.” With a sigh, Y/n waved off his stumbled answer as he tried to cover himself.

“This is stup-“

“Ask me!” For the first time in 5 hours, Tom spoke at an normal volume - but it felt painfully loud, like a shout.

“What’s the biggest secret you kept from me?” Her tone was defeated, but nevertheless, he answered.

“How upset I was when you didn’t come when we were 19. I got why, but it was still annoying. Felt like you were picking uni friends over me-“ At this point on any other evening, Y/n would have interjected and argued. None of this situation was normal, though, so she chose to hear him out. “- I know it’s stupid, but…. I guess that’s how much you meant an-and still mean to me too.”

There was silence for a couple minutes, waiting whilst the sun started to peep over the horizon, the lone witness to an otherwise very private conversation. That was until Y/n barely spoke, more like mouthed 2 simple words.

“I lied.” The intensity of the way Tom stared at her made Y/n wish that the sun hadn’t been so bright, that they were back in the darkness that hid her face more. “Biggest lie I’ve told you … that I’m not in love with you.”

Y/n didn’t see because she couldn’t face looking at him, but Tom’s face erupted into the most prominent, toothiest smile. Whilst Tom was enjoying the moment of being absolutely ecstatic, Y/n was waiting for a response- feeling her world come crashing in. That she'd just destroyed one of the most important friendships in her life too.

But then he said the opposite of what she thought he would.

“I lied too.”

That had her attention, whipping her head toward him as Tom rolled onto his side on the lawn, balancing with his head resting on one hand. “I lied that I’ve not been completely under your spell since we were kids at that campsite, and you were homesick.”

Y/n’s heart was literally in her mouth, brain overwhelmed but one overriding thought oh so bloody clear.

She’d lost control of everything, arching up to mirror Tom. Using one hand, she reached out to cup Tom’s jaw, to which he instinctively leant toward - until their lips were mere centimetres apart, hot breath fanning over each other.

Y/n no control as she whispered those 3 words against his lips. No control at how immediately after he pressed his to hers; no control as Tom guided her to roll on top of him, knees either side of his torso as his strong arms wrapped around her back.

Once again, time was lost between the two, only pulling apart when their lungs burned for oxygen.

“For the record, I love you too.” Grinning from ear to ear, Tom used one hand to gently stroke his thumb across her cheek, switching his focus from her left to right eye - in wonder at how the early morning sun reflected from her y/e/c irises. He’d always thought she was beyond beautiful, but when she was this close to him, with the sun rising behind her in such a way - she looked damn ethereal.

“Happy birthday T.” Nodding in agreement, Tom chuckled before finding her lips once again, whispering against them.

“Yeh, happy damn birthday to me.”

~~~~let me know what you think ;) ~~~~~

tagging: @hallecarey1 @hollandfanficlove @crossyourpeter

#tom Holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland x y/n #writing challenge #tbff21 #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland oneshot #harry Holland

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spacedikut · 3 years

Text

the blessing of a blizzard ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

summary: a blizzard leaves the team holed up in the bau office. spencer can’t stop thinking about your elusive boyfriend, mike, who might not be your boyfriend after all. 4.3k

a/n: festive fic! kind of! im too scared to do a final check so if there’s errors or i misuse pronouns just lemme know ily happy holidays ! thank you to the incredible @homoose for helping with dialogue :D

Mike. His name is Mike, and Spencer hates him.

Full name Michael, Spencer presumes, which comes from Hebrew meaning “who is like God?” A rhetorical question, implying there is no person like God, Michael was one of the archangels in Hebrew tradition and the only one identified as an archangel in the Bible.

What Michael should mean, however, is the guy that stole your heart and left Spencer thinking things very unlike him – that Mike, a man Spencer has never met and that clearly makes you very happy, has a really stupid name, for example.

There are three things Spencer knows about him:

1. Ever since you started deciding on his wardrobe, ladies love him. It makes you a little jealous, apparently.

2. You love baking him homemade treats whenever you can. Like a movie playing in his head, Spencer can perfectly remember you excitedly chatting with Garcia and Emily, animatedly explaining how excited Mike gets when he sees you’ve made something just for him.

3. Mike can be a bit of a dick, actually. There have been several mornings you’ve come in with a long face, leaning back in your desk chair far enough to view the world upside down and whining about how grumpy Mike was that morning, how you had to tip-toe around your apartment lest he get mad.

You’d called him your soulmate, added that he’s a light in your life you didn’t know you needed until you had him. You’re a person who chooses their words carefully, so when you’re walking around putting Mike and soulmate in the same sentence, you mean business.

That business is ripping Spencer’s heart out of his chest, apparently. Because you’re busy showing JJ pictures of him on your phone right now, blissfully unaware of the subconscious glare Spencer is lasering into your phone as he leans against the jet counter.

Spencer’s never had the honour of seeing Mike (a genuine word you used – honour) and you know what? Spencer doesn’t want to know what Mike looks like. Spencer doesn’t care. Mike’s probably ugly, anyway, and Spencer’s confidence within himself grows day by day and if there’s one thing he’s learnt recently it’s that comparison is the thief of joy and-

“Oh!” JJ exclaims, “He’s gorgeous!”

Fuck Mike. Really, fuck him.

+++

The floor is slippery beneath everyone’s feet, the surrounding area slowly losing its mixture of colours to blend into one coat of white.

It’s snowing.

Garcia greets the team, a steaming cup of tea in her bejewelled hands, and everyone gets to work right away. There’s whispers of the snow getting heavier and sticking and covering more and more ground with more and more depth; people are rushing against the proverbial clock to get done and get home before they’re all stuck.

But that won’t happen, right? If people were genuinely concerned about getting snowed in, surely everyone would’ve been sent home early as a precaution. Right? Right?

Wrong.

Rossi’s the one to notice it, calling out, “Check it out. Snow’s pretty bad.”

He says it like it’s nothing, like they’ll race to the windows then deflate with disappointment because you couldn’t even create a single snowball with that light coat, but holy hell people are walking around with snow up to their ankles and it’s still coming down thick. And then the lights are flickering and JJ is making frantic calls home to Will and Hotch is exiting his office, phone pressed to his ear, calling everyone to attention:

“There’s a blizzard incoming. It’s too dangerous for anyone to be on the roads, so we’re being told to sit tight. You should all try to call home, just in case; we don’t know how long we’ll be here.”

Some people still brave it, still try to head on home, and whether they make it or not is up to the Gods. The team glance around, varying expressions – Emily and Derek look pissed, JJ is worried, and you and Rossi are straight-faced. Penelope is bouncing in excitement.

“It’s like a sleepover!”

All Spencer can think about is how Mike will have to suffer another day without you. He bites back a smile.

+++

Spencer’s straining his neck, butt barely on his desk chair, in attempt to see around all the bustling people that stand between you and him. Through the glass BAU doors, on the phone, your shoulders are slumped and you kick your boot against the floor a few times to channel your multitude of emotions into something. He hopes Mike isn’t giving you a hard time for something that isn’t within your control.

Emily looks up from her monitor, where she’s doing Christmas shopping even though it’s Christmas Eve, and looks thoroughly amused by Spencer’s internal battle of wanting to watch you but not wanting it to be obvious.

“You good, Reid?”

Spencer flinches like Emily pinched him. “Yeah, good. Fine. Are you good?”

Emily makes a show of slowly turning to look at you, still on the phone, then slowly turning back to Spencer’s wide-eyed gaze. She smirks. “You think they’re talking to Mike?”

Yes, Spencer does think that, but he’d made a point to not fully acknowledge it. And there’s something about Emily’s smugness that tells Spencer she’s teasing him – she knows something he doesn’t and it makes his eyes narrow. “Probably. Why?”

Whatever the response is, Emily’s barely opened her mouth before she’s interrupted by Penelope Garcia gracefully clapping her hands, getting the attention of every BAU member. The team quiets and all eyes are on Penelope. Except Spencer, who watches with concern as you sneak back to your desk, a furrow to your brow and downward dips either side of your mouth.

“I know these are less-than-great circumstances, and we’re stuck in work of all places, but that shouldn’t mean we can’t have a little fun! So…”

She wildly gestures for Hotch to step forward, a cheesy grin on her face and a gleam in Hotch’s eye that tells everyone he’s also smiling but internally, and she takes the three large boxes he was carrying like the good sidekick he is.

“We’re building gingerbread houses!”

There’s exclamations of surprise and joy; Emily lights up at the idea of doing anything other than work or sitting at her desk, and JJ takes a box to look it over before asking, “Where did you get these?”

Hotch answers. “They were supposed to be for the kids,” He shrugs, holding back a smile, “However, I guess we can use them now.”

“Yes,” Penelope nods, “Yes, we can use them now. Get your game faces on, because this is a competition. Hotch and Rossi are the judges, because they’re grumpy old men, and the rest of us will be in teams of two fighting to build the best gingerbread house the BAU has ever seen.”

Derek speaks up for the first time, just to insult Spencer. “I refuse to be on a team with Reid. He has no creative skills.”

Members of the team laugh and Spencer reacts indignantly. He wants to reply, but you’re already speaking.

“Hey! I’ll take him! Spencer’s great.”

Many heads snap to you when you speak, Spencer’s surely got whiplash, but you’re looking at him and smiling at him and him alone. He’s breathless at the sight, how you chose him and have literal stars in your eyes, yet all he can think is how undeserving he is of such a beauty. How undeserving anyone is, mostly Mike, to exist in the same reality as someone who puts the definition of beautiful to shame.

Spencer’s about to make the best damn gingerbread house the world has ever seen.

+++

So, building a gingerbread house? A little more difficult than originally thought.

Maybe it’s the sticky icing, or the temptation to simply eat all the sweet decorative candy rather than use it for its intended purpose, or…

Maybe it’s the pretty teammate Spencer has that keeps brushing against him, keeps brushing against his hands, and like a virus to a computer you completely wipe Spencer of all thoughts other than: Y/N.

Spencer caught you watching him while he was rolling up his shirt sleeves, caught you staring at his hands and trailing your eyes up his forearms, following the sleeves as they moved inch by inch up to his elbows.

Then, when Spencer was holding two pieces of gingerbread together, you were too lost in thought to put the icing between the cracks and cement them together. Your eyes were trained on the fingers pressing the pieces together. Spencer had to call your name three times to wake you up.

Then, something weird happened (if the previous instances weren’t weird enough). You two had been in your own bubble of hushed tones and accidental touching, surrounded by bickering and collapsing houses and at one point Emily offered Rossi twenty bucks if he just votes for her and JJ without them making a house, and suddenly it’s silent. All he can hear is his heartbeat, his blood pumping in his ears, and all he can feel is the warmth of your breath on his ear because you’re right there, over his shoulder, joining him in hunching over your creation to decorate it with all kinds of shapes and colours.

The close proximity is too much. It’s too much.

You lean even closer, shoulder and arm pressed directly against Spencer’s, and lift another hand to place a miniature candy cane next to the gingerbread door. The action causes your hand to brush Spencer’s, and for the first time ever he’s not jolting away like he’s been electrocuted, no, his hand stays there, hovering, waiting and hoping for more.

Hoping for more of you.

And you seem to realise, too, that Spencer’s reaction is abnormal. He can’t decide if you’re testing the waters, or if it was a mere accident. But what are you testing the waters for? Why are you trying to touch him? Why do you want to touch him?

He takes a sharp intake of breath. From the corner of his eye, he sees you turn to look at him, and he almost doesn’t reciprocate. Almost.

You’re so close, face so close to his own. You take the softest breaths, in and out, sending the gentlest puffs of air onto Spencer’s lips.

He has no idea what the fuck is happening. He doesn’t want it to stop.

Your eyes, always shining and full of an emotion Spencer can’t decipher, dance around his face – his eyes, to his nose, stopping on each cheek, back and forth and up and down. Spencer’s captured by them, unable to tear himself away, which has become quite the habit since he’s known you.

Then you’re looking at his lips.

Spencer blinks, hoping to clear away the obvious hallucination he’s having, but no. Nothing changes. Your gaze remains, unwavered, making Spencer subconsciously open his mouth. The softest gasp leaves it when your pupils dilate.

This is the perfect moment to kiss, right? Right here, in front of the gingerbread house you made together, decorated together, and now begin the start of something else together. It makes sense, it’s almost poetic, and Spencer’s thought about you and him in a relationship enough times to consider this opportunity good and sweet enough to regale everyone with in the future.

Can you imagine it? “We had our first kiss in front of the gingerbread house we slaved over together. We won the competition, too.”

There’s a loud clang – Penelope found an actual gong from somewhere – and Rossi announces that the timer has gone off and it’s time for the judges to vote for the winner.

When you gently pick up yours and Spencer’s creation and take it to a cloth-covered table, where Rossi and Hotch ominously stand with their arms crossed, Spencer is frozen in place.

Oh my god. Oh my god.

There’s no way you wanted to kiss him. It isn’t possible. You’ve never looked at him like that before. It must’ve been a mistake.

But you were so close…

No. If Spencer made that move, it would’ve ruined everything – your friendship, the festive fun, the atmosphere of the entire evening. Everyone’s expected to be stuck here for at least another six hours, and making it tense and awkward was not something Spencer is willing to do.

But your eyes…

Spencer can’t think about that fact too much. That could mean anything – dilated pupils don’t necessarily mean you’re in love. You could’ve gotten a good whiff of the gingerbread and felt hungry, or a song you really liked started playing from the playlist Penelope created. Or, most likely, Spencer thinks, you were thinking about someone else.

Your boyfriend, for example.

You have a boyfriend. Mike.

Of course, you were probably thinking of Mike. Your boyfriend.

Spencer almost kissed someone in a relationship, and he’s pretty sure you almost kissed him too.

+++

Much to Derek’s chagrin, you and Spencer win the gingerbread house contest.

Penelope was baffled, frantically gesturing to the Jacuzzi she made with icing and- Derek made miniature weights? Somehow? It looked chaotic.

“Practicality, my dear,” Rossi told her. “Who, living in a gingerbread house, is worried about working out?”

Even though you and Spencer were the winners, Derek and Penelope and their pouting (and calls for a rematch) took the attention away from the obvious awkward tension between the winners. Spencer stayed at the desk you worked at while you took your house to the judges, stayed at the desk when you were crowned and stayed at the desk when you cheered.

You looked at him, wide grin and happy eyes, and all he could do was tightly smile back. Give a thumbs up.

He gave you a thumbs up. You nearly kissed less than ten minutes prior. And all he could do was give you a thumbs up.

The light in your eyes dimmed, but you seemed to understand.

Understand what, exactly? Spencer’s not so sure either. But something clicked in your head – you nodded to yourself as if confirming whatever you’ve concluded, and turned your back to him.

That was an hour ago. Now, the team has spread across everyone’s desks. Turns out, Hotch is a big fan of gingerbread - he’s consumed most of Derek and Penelope’s creation, icing and all, while Rossi has decided now is a good time to open one of the many bottles of whiskey he has in his office.

Spencer believes having that much alcohol in your work environment is breaking some kind of rule, but the snow isn’t letting up and it looks like a sleepover in the BAU office is likely. He deserves a little whiskey.

And where are you in all of this?

Spencer won’t lie and pretend he hasn’t had you in his line of sight the entire time, so he’ll recap what you’ve been doing: laughing at Derek’s jokes, plaiting Penelope’s hair, eating the candy Emily and JJ didn’t use on their house.

You’d left the room to call home and check up on things (check up on Mike, Spencer thinks bitterly) and now you stand in front of the large window by the BAU elevators, watching the snow fall.

Spencer has the perfect view of you through the glass doors. When the call ends and you stay there, he grabs a paper plate, grabs one of the walls from yours and his masterpiece and makes his way towards you.

He doesn’t know what he’ll say, or how he’ll even act, but he wants to talk to you. Things feel weird after the almost-kiss, and Spencer never wants things to be weird with you. He can’t have things weird with you. You hadn’t talked to him once since the competition, and he has a feeling you’re waiting for him to make the first move.

So he does. If that’s what you need, he’ll do it.

(He’s making this more dramatic than it needs to be, really, but he feels everything so deeply when it comes to you)

“Hey.”

Spencer’s voice perfectly matches the snowy atmosphere. It makes you feel warm inside, like you’ve just taken a sip of hot cocoa, and so often he’s left goosebumps on your skin just from speaking.

Seeing the outstretched paper plate in his hand, you take it gratefully. “Hi there. Thanks.” You nod to the gingerbread that you begin breaking up.

You hand him the first piece even though he brought it for you, and it’s silent while you both chew thoughtfully and watch the pure white outside. It doesn’t feel weird, necessarily, standing here, shoulder-to-shoulder with you, but you’re certainly more in your head than usual. You’re thinking a lot and, as much as it hurts him, Spencer knows you’re likely preoccupied by your boyfriend and not what transpired between you earlier.

It’s that thought, that disappointment settling into his chest, that opens his mouth unconsciously: “How’s Mike? Does he know you’re not making it home tonight?”

He regrets it immediately, worsened by the way you stop mid-chew, eyes dimming like Spencer’s taken a baseball bat and shattered the lights inside.

This is unchartered territory – talking about Mike with you – and you know it. Who, in their right mind, willingly asks the person they have feelings for how their relationship with someone that isn’t you is going? Does Spencer enjoy pain?

Although this is the first time Spencer’s mentioned Mike to your face (he’s mentioned Mike plenty to a laughing Derek), he’s been so close to presenting the topic many times. He wants to know so badly – wants to know how well Mike treats you, really treats you (he will profile you), if you see a long-term future with him and if not, on average how long does it take you to get over your exes? Just an estimate?

You swallow the gingerbread you’re eating. “He’s okay. My roommate has to take care of him, but at least he’s got someone.”

Huh?

Since when do you have a roommate?

And why is your roommate taking care of your boyfriend?

Oh. Guilt blooms in Spencer when it registers that he’s been thinking ill of a person that might be sick. No wonder you dote on him so much and seemed devastated to make that phone call home earlier - Mike needs you, you can’t be there for him, and you feel horrible for it.

Spencer feels horrible for having the subject of his anger be someone you so clearly cherish, so deeply love. He’s embarrassed that if he was asked to explain why he hates Mike so much, he’d have to tell them it’s because Mike has you, and you’re what Spencer wants. What about what you want?

“Take care of him?” Spencer asks. The concern is genuine, which is an emotion he never thought he’d have in regards to Mike. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh,” You shrug. “He needs someone watching over him at all times, that’s all.”

That’s all?

You continue. “Make sure he eats – and only eats what he’s supposed to. Give him his meds. Make sure he poops. Those kinda things.”

What?

“Your… roommate makes sure your boyfriend poops?”

Now, Spencer knows what you look like when you’re confused. Honestly, he has every facial expression you’ve graced him with tucked away in a proverbial box he spends too much time thinking about. He knows that when you’re trying not to laugh, you bite the inside of your left cheek. When you’re frustrated but need to present a professional front, you bite the inside of your right cheek. Happiness fills your entire face, like every inch is consumed by it, and you’ve trained yourself to transport anger to your hands, where they twist into tight fists and leave fingernail marks in your palms.

Confusion is one of his favourites (second only to joy – for obvious reasons. Have you seen your smile?) because it takes many forms. You’ve pursed your lips, narrowed your eyes, tapped your foot on the floor. When you do them all, Spencer considers it a jackpot. There’s something about the way you look when you’re presented with something you can’t quite figure out yet, when you’re perplexed, that just-

You make it hard for him to concentrate. He can’t be a genius when you’re around because you’re so pretty. You’re a vision and he can never rattle off information to you specifically because he will trip up and divert to talking about the beauty that is you and that would be embarrassing for many reasons.

But this type of confusion? The way you’re looking at him right now? He’s never seen this before. Your jaw has dropped, your brows are furrowed so deeply they might fall off, and you look… horrified.

“My… my boyfriend?”

Spencer mirrors your expression. “Yeah, your boyfriend. Mike?” He looks around, waiting for cameramen to jump out and tell him he’s being pranked, because why don’t you know who your own boyfriend is?

You move slowly, placing the half-eaten plate on the windowsill before turning to face Spencer fully. You take a second to compose yourself.

“Mike is my cat.”

Mike is…

“And he’s having digestive issues, so he needs to be watched pretty much full-time.”

Silence. Tense, weird silence.

“…You thought Mike was my boyfriend?”

Spencer sputters, then, because of course he did! “Yes! The way you talk about him was… it was… it seemed…”

He flustered, oh so flustered, hands flailing and face enflamed and burning from the inside out. How had he not known?! How had… how had your wires gotten so convoluted, so mixed?

Does everyone know that Mike is a cat? Is Spencer the only one out of the loop? The look Emily gave him earlier, that knowing too-smug look, was that…

She was making fun of him. She knew he thought Mike was a person, not a pet, and was teasing him because of it.

All at once, the world seems lighter and dimmer – a contradiction that leaves Spencer’s chest heaving – because the past year feels like a lie. He’s spent so long seeing the way you come to life when talking about Mike, sitting opposite you on the jet as you awaken like a dying flower watered when home got closer and closer, and it was all for… a cat?

There’s a mist over Spencer’s eyes as he recalls every overheard declaration of love and coos of how handsome Mike is, and you’re laughing. Spencer’s having a crisis in front of your very eyes and you’re laughing. Hunched over, a single tear falling from your eye, clutching your stomach because it hurts from the ferocity of your giggles.

By the time you quieten, your hand is over your mouth to cover the big grin that grounds him, gives him something other than this revelation to focus on. Spencer’s still baffled, frazzled, but there’s the tiniest of smiles on his face because of how overjoyed you look. And he did that. Albeit his stupidity did it, but Spencer’s stupidity nonetheless.

You’re out of breath. “God I… I don’t even know what to say. You really thought my cat was my boyfriend?”

Spencer’s fighting a smile, lips wiggling. The way you’re looking at him now, all blinding smile and crinkled eyes, alleviates him of any anxiety he earlier had. Like you’ve wiped away his plate-full of worries, all the times it felt like he took an arrow to the heart, all the times he caught you smiling at your phone because you were looking at pictures of Mike, it’s all worth it. Because you’ve never looked like this while talking about Mike, and Mike is a cat. He isn’t a person, isn’t your boyfriend. Mike is a cat and Spencer has a chance.

Spencer has a chance.

“Does this… this means you’re single, right?”

A somewhat terrified look overtakes his face.

“Oh, shoot, you are single, right?”

You bite your lower lip and nod. “Yes, Spencer. I’m single.”

He lets out a breath. “Good. That’s good. I’m glad.” He repeats your nod, realises what he said could imply, and starts shaking his head. “Not-not good good. You’re incredible and need to be appreciated, but… good, because that means we could, you know…” He gestures vaguely. God, why can’t he get coherent words out? “If you wanted to, we could-“

“Are you trying to ask me out, Spencer?”

“Yes.”

Just to cause immense emotional distress, you raise an eyebrow, mischief clear on your face, and wait for him to continue.

“You want me to actually ask?” He winces.

“I’ve spent the last year convinced you didn’t like me, so, yes, I want you to actually ask.”

The new information sends ice down Spencer’s back because what? Since when? “You- what?“

“I’ve liked you for a while, Spencer,” You cross your arms over your body, slightly embarrassed. “But you always kept your distance so I did too, I guess.”

“I thought you were taken!” Spencer exclaims. “If I’d known I would’ve-we could’ve- I would-“

“You’d what, Reid?” There’s a teasing lilt to your tone, but there’s no denying you’re incandescently happy.

He takes a deep breath and asks what he’s wanted to for far too long. “When this is all over, would you like to go on a date with me, Y/N?”

Relief flashes in your eyes, like you didn’t fully believe what was happening until he finally asked, and words have never sounded as pretty as when you say: “Yes. Yes I would.”

Like lovesick idiots, you stand in front of the window with the snowfall as a backdrop, grinning at each other. You can’t help it – you lean up, press a kiss to his cheek that immediately sets his skin ablaze, and fall back onto your feet with a smile sweeter than all the sugar you’d consumed today.

“Merry Christmas, Spencer.”

Somehow, despite the nerves and the way his heart is trying to leap into your hands, he manages to tell you, “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

+++

(Three weeks later, Spencer meets the Mike. Turns out he’s a nice guy. Spencer takes the first opportunity he can to apologise for all the bad things he said about him behind his back. The purring tells Spencer he’s forgiven)

+++

tags: @pinkdiamond1016 @bluerose512 @andreasworlsboring101 @bitchyreids @roses-and-grasses @ta-ka-shi-ma @rexorangecouny @unmistakablyunknown @goofygubler14 @gublertoon @averyhotchner @prettyboy-reid @shadyladyperfection

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid imagine #genuinely if anyone reads this and has suggestions on how i can improve as a writer #and maybe as a person in general #pls message me #something about this feels OFF and i cant tell what

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eveningstar1516 · 3 years

Text

Rise of the Demon King ~ Chapter 8

Rise of the Demon King

Fic: Multi Chapter Paring: MC x Everyone (Mostly Lucifer) Type: Angst with a Happy Ending Total Word Count: 26,758 TW: Major Character Death, Reader gets stabbed with a sword through their chest so..., Abusive Parents, Past Child Abuse, Demon Hunters, Loss of Control Summary: You’ve done it. You’ve finally done it. You’ve managed to anger the demon king. Now you hold your head high as he hands down your sentence. AO3 Portal: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27065362

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Previously:

His brothers would always know whenever he went to see her as he’d always come back with a content smile on his face. Deep down, he wished that Y/N could’ve met Cynthia. They would have made great friends as they were the only 2 people who could make him smile like this. Mammon may not have been able to save Y/N, but he swore that he would protect Cynthia, no matter the cost.

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

CHAPTER 8 - The Great Pancake Debate (2261 words)

It’s been almost 6 months since you arrived in the Celestial Realm. Needless to say, you are quite certain that these last 6 months have been the craziest and stressful months of your life! When you told Simeon and Luke about you staying here, to say they were ecstatic would be an understatement. Luke jumped for joy and wouldn’t stop rambling about all the fun you were going to have. When you told them about God appointing them to help teach you about the Realm, Luke practically did a double take and it took an hour to calm him. Now you have Simeon teaching you about politics and Luke about how to use your wings and powers. On your second day there, Michael woke you up, or well came to get you as you didn’t get any sleep. Turns out, while the Devildom is constant at night, the Celestial realm is constant day and thanks to the floor to ceiling windows, there was no way for you to stop sunlight from coming in. You were introduced to the council at breakfast. Note to self, the brothers breakfasts are QUIET AND PEACEFUL compared to Archangels off duty. The first thing you saw were 2 angels passionately arguing over which pancake topping was the best, strawberries or blueberries. At some point a third angel cut in claiming chocolate chips were the best and all heaven (would you replace hell with heaven here? idk) broke loose. As for me, I just started chuckling in disbelief while making my way over to pick up a pancake of my own when the angel arguing on behalf of the strawberries saw you.

“Hey kid, what topping do you prefer, strawberries, blueberries, or chocolate chips? It’s strawberries right?”

“Actually, I prefer them plain with maple syrup. Although if Satan was the one making it, I’d go for the one with poison berries. Contrary to their name, they’re not actually poisonous and quite sweet.” All the angels present looked at me with a mix of shock and disbelief, save for Michael who just sat there eating his breakfast hoping to leave soon and get to work.

“Kid, did you say Satan?” The angel arguing on behalf of blueberries asked. “Yeah… Blond hair, teal eyes, Avatar of Wrath, Luci’s son? Ring a bell?” Turning to Michael, blueberry angel asked,

“Micheal, who are they and why are they wearing Lucifer’s old get up?” “This is Y/N. They will be staying here and taking Samael’s spot on the council until their agreement with Father ends and they return to the Devildom. Father has asked us to teach them about how our Realm operates and how to successfully fulfill Samael’s former position flawlessly, unless they want to return now and leave heaven early?” Michael turned towards you with a smirk on his face as he asked the last part.

“Very funny Mike. You and I both know I won’t do that no matter how bad you want me to.”

“What did I say about calling me that?!” Micheal’s smirk turned into something short of a snarl.

“Well, if you won’t take me seriously, neither will I. You want me to call you by your name, earn it and stop being an butt… I meant an butt… Why can’t I swear?!”

“This is the Celestial Realm Y/N. Angels don’t swear.” Michael said smugly over the rim of his cup of coffee.

“God Dang it! Argh! Fudge!. Dang it! Ya know what, forget it, my entire mood is ruined. Thanks Michael!”

“Anytime.”

Shooting Michael one last glare, I sighed and turned to the rest of the baffled angels in the room.

“Yes, what Michael said is true. Stuff happened in the Devildom which I will not get in too-”

“The demon king made Samael kill them.”

“Ok, Mike, first off, he didn’t, I ordered him too, second, I thought I said I didn’t want to talk about it. What gives you the right to tell them huh?”

“I felt like it.”

“You son of a beach.” I turned back to the rest of the angels. “Not a word about it. Anyway, due to some personal issues, I made a deal with Father to stay here on the condition that I take over Lucifer’s spot on the council until he either kicks me out or until our agreement has ended.”

“If I may, when will this agreement of yours be over?” The blueberry angel asked.

“I will be returning to the Devildom once Lord Diavolo has been crowned king and his father is 100% out of the picture. Now if you don’t mind me asking, could you introduce yourselves?” “Oh how rude of us, I’m sorry, I am Gabriel.” Gabriel had chestnut brown medium length hair, reaching shoulders. His eyes were a dull green. He wore a white turtleneck and had a light green shawl with golden tassels. He pointed to the strawberry angel. “This is Raphael and he’s Uriel.” He pointed to the chocolate chip angel. Raphael had long reddish-orange hair put up in a high ponytail. His eyes were a stormy gray. He wore a simple light gray half sleeve with an off the shoulder white cape and little decor. Uriel had short gray hair and golden eyes that almost seemed to sparkle. He wore something that reminded you of an off white scholar's robe with gray accents. “These are Saraqael, and Raguel.” He pointed to 2 of the quieter angels who didn’t participate in “the great pancake debate”. “We make up the Archangel council and we’re happy to have you Y/N.” Gabriel finished off with a smile. You were just barely able to make out a little “Not all of us” from Michael. You decided to ignore it, and then, like all the decisions you’ve ever made, it was the wrong one. Sitting back down you asked,

“So, quick question. What started The Great Pancake Topping debate?”

Breakfast ended 2 hours later with upset angels, and pancakes, everywhere…

In the Devildom. After they lost Y/N

Levi went straight to his room as soon as they got home. As soon as he closed and locked the door he went straight to Henry’s fishbowl, picked it up and sat in his bathtub, hugging the bowl as he cried. ‘Why do I feel like this?! I only like 2D characters and Ruri-chan, not 3D people. How do I miss them?... Why did they leave me? They were my player 2.’ “Well it makes sense, no one would want to stay with a worthless shut in of an otaku like me” he said to the empty room. Henry 2.0 glubbed a bubble in response. “You wouldn’t leave me, would you Henry?” *Glub* “No you wouldn’t… I miss them.” Levi stayed in his tub hugging Henry 2.0 until he fell asleep.

Present

It was another late night, Levi was bingeing a new anime ‘I fell in love with a 3D girl but I’m afraid she’ll leave me after finding out that I’m an otaku who rarely leaves their room’ . He was halfway through the 9th episode when he got a notification from Mononoke Island. One of his raid mates was stuck and needed some help. He paused his marathon to help his fellow mate and stayed up until the early hours of the morning switching between playing Mononoke and watching his anime. Stumbling into the dining room for breakfast the next morning, he was met with complete silence. Lucifer had left early, Belphie was asleep, Beel was too absorbed in eating, Satan in his book and Asmo on his phone to even notice him enter the room. Mammon was busy in the human world helping out sone witches. Levi sat down in his normal spot, taking whatever was left as he mentally prepared himself for the day. As soon as the bell rang, signaling the end of the day at RAD, still dressed in his uniform, Levi left as quickly as he could. There was an anime expo happening in the human realm right now and there was some ultra-rare limited edition Ruri-chan merch being sold there. He had gotten Lucifer’s permission to attend the expo so long as he was back by 11. Existing the portal and making his way to the expo, Levi thought about the last expo he attended with Y/N. They cosplayed as Erin and Levi from Attack on Titan and spent the entire day surrounded by fellow anime nerds. They had also booked a room at a nearby hotel. It was 3 days of bonding time for them. Entering the expo, Levi decided he would get something for them as decor for their headstone put in memory of them in the backyard of the House of Lamentation. Nearing the line for Ruri-chan merch, Levi noticed someone staring intensely at him. He decided to ignore them but keep a loose eye on them, just in case. He got to the front of the line and purchased 4 of the Ruri-chan collection kits. One for use, one for display, one to keep and sell in the future, and one for Y/N. He decided to wander around a little more to see if anything else would catch his eye while he was here. He spotted a Black Butler station and remembered the jokes he and Y/N would crack about Barbatos and Sebastian. He passed a Fate/Stay Night stand and remembered their conversations on which heroic class they would belong to. Levi would have been the perfect Lancer. He passed countless other stalls, each of them holding a memory he made with Y/N. Distracted by his trip down memory lane, Levi forgot all about the person stalking him. He went and purchased some dinner from one of the stalls before sitting down and pulling out his DDD and looked at some pictures of Y/N and him at their last expo. He didn’t look up from his phone until he felt someone sit opposite of him. Levi looked up to see some middle aged man just sitting there on his phone. He didn’t have any food, merch, or even look like someone interested in an anime expo. Feeling an uncomfortable aura emitting from this man, Levi got up and left. He took a quick look over his shoulder and saw that the man wasn’t following him. He left the expo and went down an alleyway to open up a portal back to the Devildom when he accidentally bumped into someone dropping his purchases.

“S-sorry”

“That’s quite alright.” The stranger extended a hand out to let him up. “Say, I’d love to know where you got your uniform from. No schools around here have uniforms like that one.”

Looking up, Levi saw the same man that was watching him with a twisted smile. Masking his fear, he mumbled an excuse about being in a rush and tried to dash around him. Before he could get 2 steps down the alley, the man grabbed him and pushed him further into the alleyway. Levi’s head struck the wall hard leaving him dazed for a moment.

“I didn’t think my intel about finding a RAD attendee at the expo would be true but whaddya know? Seems I caught myself a demon.”

Levi, now more aware of his surroundings, realized he was cornered by a demon hunter. Despite being in an alleyway, there were too many people around for him to do anything rash. Without missing a beat, the hunter pulled out an enchanted dagger aiming straight for Leviathan’s heart. Levi rolled and dogged last minute before colliding into someone’s chest. That person in question wrapped his arms around Levi’s chest and put their own dagger to his throat.

“I know you’re there! Come on out and I might spare your friend's life!” The hunter holding Levi yelled. When no one stepped out, the dagger held by Levi’s neck began pushing on his skin. Levi felt a flare of pain and against his better judgement, transformed. His tail wrapped around hunter 2’s leg and flipped him over while the first hunter charged at him, only to be blown to the ground as a powerful gust of wind knocked him over.

“Jeez Levi, you’re lucky I was here. Seriously, why didn’t ya do somethin’ earlier? Maybe then I wouldn’t have ta save yo ass.” Mammon stepped out from the darkness with a bored look on his face.

“Come on, Lucifer’s waiting for ya back home. LOOK OUT!” Levi turned around just in time to see Hunter number 2 taking a swing at his neck and managed to duck just in time. Mammon then charged over punching the hunter square in the face, knocking him out cold.

“T-thanks M-mammon.”

“No problem. Come on, let’s get ya back home before any more of them show up.”

Stepping through the portal, a question plagued Levi’s mind.

“Mammon, how did you know I was in trouble?”

“Some witches summoned me. I overheard them talk about some hunter group getting a tip about a possible demon being at some expo. Then I realized that it was the same one you were going to, so I decided to go there myself to make sure ya weren’t followed. I’m glad I did too.”

“Th-thank you Mammon. Really.”

“Of course, what are big brothers for. Anyway, about my payment, maybe you can forget about the money I owe ya?”

Groaning, Levi started walking faster, leaving Mammon and his whining behind as he made his way back to the safety of his room.

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serenasoutherlyns · 3 years

Text

Not a Summer Crush Part Seven

a/n: It's heeeeere! The night before my classes start for the fall. There's a timeskip from the previous part-- Caroline, Alex, and Casey have all been together for about a month and it's the transition between fall and summer. This one features fighting and humor and lots of Jack McCoy. Any and all feedback makes my world!

Part Seven

The weeks passed in late nights spent in the same office, in morning lattes and afternoon runs (that often ended in the kinds of showers that don’t save water, with the almost frantic pulling off of clingy clothing, with breathy “god yes”-es and rushing to the door when either of you heard Alex’s key in the lock). Jack McCoy noted with pride how efficient it appeared your bureau had become since the summer started.

It was important to maintain a good amount of discretion. As progressive as the world may be becoming, you knew that the DA’s office had to keep up appearances; that it wouldn’t be good for you, and Jack (and, by extension, you again) for the media to get wind of your relationship. Besides, you wanted to keep it personal, special.

But oh. The thrill of the honeymoon phase is so irresistible.

A Friday night, one where the air began to have the kind of bite that previewed the coming fall, found you and Alex together in a candlelit restaurant waiting for Casey to join you. You had some sense, choosing a place not normally frequented by the Hogan Place set, in the opposite direction from your apartment. You set your glass of wine beside Alex’s and took her hand in yours, above the table this time. You couldn't resist leaning in, kissing her softly.

“Caroline,” she said as you pulled away, smiling at you with the same look you’d first seen months ago, that you hadn’t known was what it was until you’d seen it over and over as she pulled you tighter into her arms.

“Alex,” you said, enticingly, all but batting your eyelashes. She ran her fingers along yours in apology. “I know,” you said, placing your hands back on the table, leaning back against the booth seat. “We could always meet Casey when she gets to your place,” you said, looking at your phone. “Except she’s almost here.”

Alex laughed lightly. “You’re insatiable,” she scolded you, teasingly. You shrugged, knowing it was accurate. “And I’m hungry.” She picked up her menu.

Across the room, around the corner, sitting at a single table, Jack McCoy returned his focus to his book, trying to convince himself he hadn’t seen what he thought he did.

---

Jack was on high alert at the office. He had been too far away, he couldn’t be sure. And it was such an out of the way place-- he went there when he didn’t want every law student and defense attorney on the island to vie for a piece of his ear. So it couldn’t’ve been them, Jack thought. Who am I kidding? That’s exactly the kind of place they’d go. After all-- Jack knew from affairs.

He wouldn’t have expected this of Alex Cabot, knowing how in love she and Casey were. Though, now he considered the possibility, the two of you seemed to gravitate towards one another in a characteristic way. He remembered seeing her hand linger on your shoulder a beat too long in the courthouse hallway.

Who knows, he’d always expected Mike and Connie would go for it one day, and they still hadn’t. When Erika Keller and Anna Mikhailova had filed their disclosure he could’ve sworn he’d needed to get his eyes checked, having heard the way the two of them could argue. Maybe he wasn’t the best judge of things. Because I’m looking for myself in other people. He leaned in his chair. He’d do the introspection later. For now, he’d do what he could to keep one of his bureau chiefs out of a public scandal. Besides, they were too far away. It could’ve been anybody’s curls bouncing in laughter, could’ve been anyone’s impeccable posture. He hoped.

He made a point that Monday around noon to personally stop by the junior office on your floor, but found only Nick Anderson (who, he remembered, he needed to talk to about a possible change of bureaus) with his head buried in a journal.

“Mr. McCoy,” he said as soon as he realized he wasn’t alone, snapping the book shut harder than he needed to. “What can I do for you?”

“Hi, Nick,” Jack said, a little disappointed that he’d roused the guy from what was clearly riveting reading. “I was just looking for Caroline.”

Anderson’s face fell. Evidently, he was used to that line of inquiry. Poor guy. McCoy remembered the days when he’d given the least helpful junior ADAs piles of nothing to keep them out of his hair. No obvious changes, Jack noticed as he looked around your side of the office. No notes or photos or out-of-the-ordinary gifts. Though, someone needs to show this woman the value of an organized space, he thought. It’d be hard to notice anything among the pile of papers.

“Mr. McCoy?” he heard Anderson say.

“Yeah?” he replied, somewhat irritated.

“Oh um,” he said, what little confidence he had faltering. “I just said she was in Ms. Cabot’s office, sir.”

Jack’s stomach dropped. That may as well be “step one” in the old Jack McCoy playbook, get her in your space as often as possible. Oh come on, Jack. She’s her boss. They’re probably going over witness statements. Right. And how many witness statements did Sally and I review together while I was still going home to Ellen? He swallowed. “Thank you. And you don’t need to ‘sir’ me anymore. You’ve earned your desk.”

“Yes s-- got it, Mr. McCoy.” Anderson returned to his book. Jack continued down the hall.

---

“You really think she’s being honest?” Alex’s question was audible through her slightly-open door.

“She’s our witness!” you said, matching her tone. Somehow, the mood in the office was light even in your disagreement.

“Witnesses lie,” Jack said, surprising the both of you as he nudged his way in the room.

“When it’s in their best interest,” you said, acknowledging him with a nod in his direction. Jack liked how you didn’t let etiquette get in the way of your arguments. “Alex,” you said, pointing your gaze at her. I know that look. “What good does it do her to lie about who she was with?”

Alex fired right back at you, not bringing McCoy into the conversation. “She avoids embarrassment? Guilt? Fear? I’m not putting her on the stand unless we can verify her testimony.”

“Then we’re looking at an acquittal,” you said dryly.

“Because I won’t suborn perjury? O ye of little faith,” Alex responded. Jack caught a playful lilt in her voice. He was liking this less and less with each piece of evidence he uncovered.

“Do you know for certain she’s lying?” Jack said, breaking the intensity in the room.

“No, but--” Alex said.

“Exactly--” you said at the same time.

“Are you certain she’s telling the truth?” He asked. “This is People v Buckman?” he clarified. Alex nodded. You pushed an offending curl out of your eyes. “I would probably put her on the stand,” you smirked, “and when defense -it’s Elsie Campbell, right?- I’d have no recourse when defense tears her story to pieces.” You shrugged, never minding being the first to concede defeat.

“I’ll see if Detective Rollins is up for a coffee break,” you said, grabbing your phone and attache, but, Jack noticed, leaving your cardigan hanging on the extra hook. “Sometimes I wish I’d stayed in California,” you said, “reciprocal discovery would be pretty sweet.”

“Ouch,” Alex said as you walked out of the office. You waved a hand over your shoulder.

“Did you need something, Jack?” Alex asked, glad she’d known him long enough to be casual.

“Nothing,” he lied, and when she looked puzzled, said, “I was actually checking on the Buckman case.”

“I’m in no need of supervision,” Alex said under her breath. “Anything else I can clarify for you?”

Tell me I’m wrong about this, he thought. “No,” he said. “I’m sure you’ve got it under control.”

---

Of course, if Jack McCoy had been a more athletically inclined man, he may have run into you and Casey in the park two days before the restaurant, cooling down from the 5 and a half miles you’d done. He may have seen you tug on the hem of Casey’s tank top, seen her whisper something in your ear that made you blush and laugh, he may have caught the split second her lips met your jawline, seen the two of you heading off for the subway together.

And if he’d seen that first he may have tried to convince himself that it was another red ponytail and another person’s graceful lines. That there were so many people who jogged in that park, that it couldn't have been you.

He would’ve made a point to stop by the juniors’ office, maybe earlier in the day. Nick Anderson would’ve told him you were in Casey’s office and his stomach would’ve dropped. That may as well be “step one” in the old Jack McCoy playbook, get her in your space as often as possible. Oh come on, Jack. She’s her boss. They’re probably preparing for an admissibility hearing. He’d remind himself to schedule a meeting with Anderson for the end of the week.

He’d continue down the hall to find you and Casey sitting together, wordlessly handing one another documents highlighted in different colors. He’d remember the last time he was that in sync with an assistant and an undeniable flutter of recognition would’ve hit him.

But he hadn’t been in the park.

---

Your phone buzzed on the counter. You dried your hands quickly on the dishtowel, you turned off the tap. In the living room, Ashley was gathering the toys and books scattered about. Ramin was late at the office.

1 new message from: Alex to: you, Casey:

Alex: I just had quite the meeting with Jack.

---

“You wanted to see me, Jack?” Alex said, entering his office after most of the lawyers had gone home or

retreated to their own offices for the night.

“Actually, I’d really rather I didn’t need to,” he said. Alex’s concern showed on her face.

“Is this about the Buckman case? I know it’s going to be extra time to look into her statement,

but I really think this could be a break in the case, if she’s telling the truth or lying, so I thought it was justified. I could probably still make the argument without her, but it feels worth it--”

“No, the case is fine. Besides, it’s your case. I-- Alex we need to talk about… it’s maybe a more personal issue,” Jack said, shifting his hands’ position on the desk in front of him.

Alex’s eyes widened. “Are you speaking as my boss or as my friend?” Jack melted, remembering that they were friends, and that he could approach the topic as a friend. Though, usually, he wouldn’t have to confront a friend about their romantic life. Or if he did, it wouldn’t have professional repercussions. Electoral repercussions, he heard a younger, more emotional version of himself say to Adam Schiff 20 years ago. Sorry, Adam.

“Both, I hope, now that you mention it.”

Alex paused a moment, considering what to say. She had an idea what Jack was getting at, but no idea how he had come to that conclusion. He probably has some kind of sixth sense, she thought. “Start as my boss.”

Jack took a deep breath. “OK. I’ll tell you something Adam Schiff told me when I was in your position,”

Alex felt the need to stop him, to find out exactly what he thought he knew. “Wait. Before you reprimand me. What position am I in? What do you think I’m doing?”

“Jesus, Alex. What do you think you’re doing?” he asked. She didn’t answer him. “You’re having an affair with Caroline Haley.” He wasn’t asking her a question, and the disappointment in his voice was wounding. Alex took a deep breath. “You’re not going to deny it?”

“What makes you think we’re having an affair?” She was determined to out-wit him, get him to show her all his evidence before letting go of anything he was unaware of. Under New York law it is the prosecution’s responsibility to disclose any exculpatory evidence, she thought. And a lawyer who represents herself still has a fool for a client.

Jack looked at her blankly. Was she really going to make him spell it out? Well, he’d missed presenting cases. “I’ve noticed that she spends a lot more time in your office than her own,” he started. Alex’s poker face remained unchanged. “Your conversational style is, quite, amiable, ah,”

She couldn’t suppress a smile, then, biting back a laugh. “My apologies,” she said. “All you have as proof of this alleged affair is friendly conversation and spending time together?”

Jack tried to play into her humor. “I’ll remind you Ms. Novak Cabot,” he said, using her married name to see if it got a reaction (no luck), “that adultery is still a class B misdemeanor in the state of New York.”

Alex snatched that opportunity. He opened the door, your honor. “And how many three-month stays do you owe the good people of New York, Mr. McCoy?” He looked caught-out. The upper hand was hers. “Are you sure you’re not just seeing your old habits?”

“You know, it’s funny you should say that. Because after this coming election, I was going to ask you to be my EADA. But you know I can’t do that if there is even the slightest appearance of impropriety.”

“So this is about election results? You and I both know my patience for politics is--”

“Limited, yes. But don’t tell me you’re not the slightest bit interested.”

“I’d have to think about it, Jack,” she said honestly. It seemed to surprise him, which didn’t surprise her. He seemed to forget, often, that she’d arguably done much more important work (and he seemed to forget that Tracey Kibre had turned down the same position more than once, that some people enjoyed seeing their partners and the insides of their apartments every once in a while). “But that’s not why you wanted to talk to me, and you’ve yet to convince me that you have any idea about any affair.”

“Where were you last Friday evening?” Jack asked her, in full cross-examination confidence.

Alex flinched, her first misstep since she’d come in. She wasn’t going to out-right lie to him if disguising the truth would do. However he knew this (if he knew anything), she had no way of knowing how much he knew. “I had dinner with Caroline at a restaurant near her apartment in Brooklyn.”

“A working dinner?”

“I can’t be friends with my colleague?”

“Trilogy isn’t a particularly platonic place as far as I know,”

“You spied on me outside of work?”

“I happened to be there,” Jack said. Alex rolled her shoulders back, trying to let go of some of the anger she had at what felt like an invasion of her privacy, even if it had been public. “I saw her kiss you, Alex. I know.” Alex didn’t answer him. Jack, uncomfortable with the silence, said “I really do understand. I sympathize with what you’re going through, I know it isn’t easy.”

Her frustration gathered itself in her cold fingertips that she realized were gripping the arms of her chair, hard. “Actually, you don’t understand,” she said, quietly, as politely as she could. “You have an incomplete picture of the nature of our relationship.” Jack opened his mouth to argue. “I won’t say any more,” Alex said, certain, “except that Caroline has done absolutely nothing wrong, and if you go after her about any of this, you will have my resignation.” Jack nodded.

“You understand how something like this could look to the public? You understand that your position is at stake?”

“I understand.”

“I mean, just the power dynamic alone, disregarding the infidelity, and I hate to say it, but you know how rampant homophobia still is.” She clenched her jaw, but she didn’t look guilty.

“I know. Now, I’d like you to be my friend for a moment,” she said. “Please.”

He smiled weakly.

“As your friend, I’d tell you not to cheat on your wife,” Jack said. Alex looked serene.

“I won’t,” she said, rising from her seat. “Goodnight, Jack.” She left faster than he could return the sentiment. He’d hoped he had more comforting things to say. And he wanted to know what on earth she’d meant by “the nature” of their relationship. He trusted she’d take extra care now that she knew he knew. It was not going to be a fun secret to keep.

---

She didn’t tell you what the meeting was about, so you knew it couldn’t have gone well. Quite the meeting. You hoped it wasn’t what you thought it was. You said you’d be there soon. You moved through the apartment quickly, leaving the last of the dishes in the sink, snagging your keys off the hook, tossing them along with your phone into your backpack.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” Ashley asked. You knew he’d been looking forward to catching up on episodes of The Bachelor, and you did hate to disappoint him. You looked up from tying your shoes.

“Alex and Casey’s,” you said. His shoulders dropped. “I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you.” He rolled his eyes. “What?” you asked. “You can watch without me, you know, I don’t mind.”

“I don’t care about the show,” he said, returning to his tidying.

You stood up, crossing your arms. “Something you want to say?” He shrugged.

“No, no. Go have fun,” he said.

“I don’t think it’s going to be a whole lot of fun,” you said, trying to keep the worry buried. “Alex texted, she said that Jack had called her into his office this evening over something.”

“That surprises you?” Ashley said, his voice high-pitched.

You looked at him with your eyes wide. “I’m sorry?” you said, resisting the urge to raise your voice.

“What did you think was going to happen, Caroline?” he said, with a patronizing look that made your stomach turn.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” you said. Two could play at passive aggression.

Ashley laughed bitterly. “I mean, did you not think twice before risking your job, everything you’ve worked towards to be what, the third wheel in a relationship that existed far before you came across it?”

“Ashley,” you warned him.

“I thought you were trying to work on the self-sabotage, I mean, you’ve never even been in a relationship before,”

“That’s not exactly true,” you said. You were starting to feel nauseous. He knew you well enough to know that he was pushing right on all your insecurities.

“That lasted more than a couple months, then, which is hardly anything.”

“I think we’ve gone over that a couple times-- Just because you’re so morally invested in monogamy doesn’t mean it’s for everyone--”

“You really want to be the girl who sleeps with the boss? No, sorry, the girl who sleeps with both of the bosses?”

“It’s-- wow. Tell me how you really feel.”

It was quiet for a moment as the two of you dared the other person to talk first.

“I just don’t think you’re making the best decision,” he said.

“I thought you were happy for me,” you replied, and walked out the door.

---

You didn’t usually ride your bike after dark. It felt right, though, as you went, releasing your nervous (and sad, and angry) energy out through the pedals. Your arms came up in goosebumps, from the chill in the air or the trepidation in your spine. It started to rain.

---

You and Alex arrived almost simultaneously. She was accepting a cup of tea that Casey was offering her when you came in. You were a walking cliché with your hair stuck to the side of your face, shivering. “Hi,” you said, shakily. You hadn’t quite been crying. The insecure part of you felt small, out of place, intrusive: they had this cozy, tidy, warm apartment, mugs of hot tea in their hands; and you were shattering it with the chaos that followed in the wake of your personal life. You were being so selfish, so inconsiderate, bringing your own emotional baggage with you despite Alex being the one having a hard time. For a split second you thought about leaving with no explanation, dashing out almost as soon as you shut the door. Casey held up a mug for you. It was one of a matching set of three.

“Jack thinks we’re having an affair,” Alex said, matter-of-fact, as you slipped out of your shoes and made your way to the counter Casey was leaning against. Alex was pacing, slowly, how she often did when she was figuring something out. You took a sip of your tea, grateful for the warmth, then set it on the counter and rested your head on Casey’s shoulder. She jumped and you laughed, the relief spreading through you. She squirmed as you pressed closer, letting out a squeak at the feeling. You let her go, listening to the quiet creaking of the floor.

“Which us?” you asked, matching the seriousness of the subject again. “All of us?”

“Just you and I,” Alex said.

“How did he come to that conclusion?” Casey asked, knowing there were equal cases to be made for any combination.

Alex stopped moving, pushing herself up to sit on the counter opposite to you. “To begin, he was apparently at Trilogy last Friday night.” The goosebumps threatened to make a repeat appearance. This was your fault.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, your eyes lost in your teacup. “I was reckless.” Out of the corner of your eye, you felt Apollo the duck stare at you accusingly with the stone cold eyes he didn’t have.

“Don’t be sorry. I was there too,” Alex said, meeting your gaze as you looked up. “He didn’t stick around long enough to see Casey.”

“What did you end up telling him?” Casey asked, letting herself be the problem-solver for the night.

“Very little,” she said. “He doesn’t have the complete story. That he should hold off on any judgements unless and until he did.”

“Did it work?” you asked.

“Well enough, I think. You don’t need to worry about your job. I threatened him with my resignation if he said a word to you about it.” Your heart beat faster. Sacrifices for your sake, or the offer of them, made you uneasy.

“You don’t have to put your career on the line for me,” you said, the same shaky tone edging into your voice again. Alex blinked at you, like it was no big deal, like it was the obvious choice. Casey traced circles on your shoulder blade.

“Nobody’s career is at risk, Caroline,” Casey said. “Honestly, imagine the kind of headlines that would break if Jack McCoy fired someone for adultery.”

“I don’t know what’s worse,” Alex said, “Jack’s disapproval right now, or how he might react if we just told him what’s going on. He made it clear his objection had more to do with poll numbers than morality.” Ashley’s words echoed in your head. You really want to be the girl who sleeps with the boss-- both of the bosses? Your fear must have been more obvious than you intended. “What’s wrong?” Alex asked you.

You swallowed. “It’s nothing,” you said, stopping yourself from spilling every anxious thought that came to you. “I’m fine. It’ll be fine,” you said, a real smile making its way out of you. You held your hand out for Alex’s and squeezed. She slid off the counter, letting herself be pulled in, letting whatever you weren’t saying stay unsaid for that moment. She also jumped when she first felt your wet clothes against her skin.

“Now, let’s get you out of those wet clothes,” she said. Your mouth was open in amusement as she started off down the hall. You began to follow but Casey stopped you briefly, hooking her ring finger into your belt loop.

“Whatever he said, it isn’t true,” she said, starting to run her warm hands underneath your shirt.

“How did you,” you said, feeling seen. “I didn’t say anything about it.”

“Give me some credit,” she said then kissed you gently, her body warming yours. “I’m very perceptive.” She gripped the bunched-up body of your t-shirt and you slipped your head through the top. Casey placed her palms against your ribs, holding you steady.

“Thank you,” you said, deep and low, as you kissed her again. The two of you, now almost equally damp, joined Alex. Six hands moved slowly, purposefully. Nothing felt desperate, fleeting. Only warmth filled you.

---

taglist: (I'm tagging a couple of my moots who aren’t on the taglist, let me know if you’d prefer I didn’t!)

@addictedtodinosaurs @nocreditinthestraightworld @cmmndrwidw @hi-i-1 @lesbianologist @readerhermit @@alexlivdoncas @laezzzi @imaginaryoperagloves (thank you for your help!!) @swimmingstudentchaos891

#Alex cabot #casey novak #calex #casey x Alex #calex x eader #Alex cabot x reader #casey Novak x reader #not a summer crush #law & order: svu #svu #svu fanfic #jack mccoy #this was the most fun I’ve had with this fic since ch. 3 lmao #comment on ao3 if you love me #Oh emi never stop posting fics at 2 am #also: I kind of hate the last line of this so. Enjoy #this should be the second to last chapter I think?#The girls r fighting tho :( by which I mean ash and Caroline

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kireii-writes · 4 years

Note

Hiya! I’m that anon who requested the s/o with a bunch of male friends and stuff! I meant each with their own s/o sorry for not specifying lol. Have a nice day and thanks!! 💓

hi anon, it’s fine~

warning(s): slight nsfw (hisoka’s general perversion), slight yandere tendencies

- hisoka’s not someone who gets jealous easily, and sometimes he couldn’t care less if you left him or not.

- but this shameless man who didn’t care if the whole world saw him butt naked would make comments that would make your skin burn with second-hand embarrassment.

- “y/n, do you think they’ll be interested in having group-”

- that’s when you glare at him, daring him to continue.

- as shameless as he is, hisoka wouldn’t want to make you really mad. your reaction and blushing face was what he really wanted to see.

- be prepared for his endless teasing disguised as jealousy sometimes, especially when you get too close to your male friends.

- “y/n, do you like any of them more than me?”

- “y/n, can i kill them?” *insert hisoka’s creepy smile here*

- hisoka wouldn’t really mind, since he’s always running off somewhere like heavens arena, so he’s convinced you having many male friends could at least make up for the fact that he isn’t really there for you.

- but if you make him jealous by getting a little too touchy with your friends in front of him, constantly bringing them up or comparing them with your lover.

- he’s going to tolerate your constant attempts to make him jealous, until it’s too much for him and he snaps.

- “you like them so much you just have to constantly bring them up, huh.”

- there’s no knowing what hisoka would do when he’s jealous. he might kill you before you can even blink.

- he’s going to take out his frustration on you

- by roughly engaging you in a hot makeout sesh before leaving you hanging, or disappearing without a trace only to re-emerge at your front door at ungodly hours.

- hisoka is going to have to deal with your male friends, who he’ll see as threats.

- they would all be found dead the next day, with no trace of the killer.

- and hisoka’s going to pretend he was with the spiders or somewhere else when you question him.

- “it’s fine, isn’t it? you still have me. i can be your friend on top of a lover.” he smiles sweetly.

- in general? try not to intentionally make him jealous. a jealous hisoka wouldn’t do anyone good.

- before he got together with you, illumi would already know the number of male friends you have, their names, age, occupation, where they stay, preferences, blood type, hobbies etc. he bribed milluki to hack into their electronic systems.

- illumi doesn’t understand the concept of having friends, but he’s going to be chill with you having male friends, since he’s always too busy with his jobs to be with you most of the time.

- it’s hard to make illumi jealous, since he believes he’s done everything he can to make you happy (even to the extent of completing jobs at a new speed record if you ask)

- “i don’t get it, y/n. what is it about them that you like?”

- if you constantly blow him off to spend time with your male friends, he’s going to get very annoyed.

- 10/10 most likely to stick needles into your friends and control them so they stay as far away as possible from you.

- or he might even personally show up at their houses uninvited. seeing a well known assassin sitting in the middle of their living room staring at them intently would give anyone a heart attack.

- if illumi feels like you shouldn’t hang around them anymore, he wouldn’t hesitate to throw you over his shoulder and bring you over to the Zoldyck mansion, where you’ll be staying from now on.

- you’ll still have freedom, but a limited one. you’ll only be allowed within the Zoldyck property, with a few butlers keeping watch on you. you won’t be allowed to step foot outside. their family guard dog, Mike, has been trained to stop you from going out, unless it is with illumi.

- but you’ll be allowed visitors, those that are approved by illumi (usually your female friends)

- of course, illumi’s going to make sure you’re comfortable and would bring back whatever you want so you wouldn’t have the excuse of stepping out.

- as possessive as he is, illumi would make up to you by bringing you around town on days that he’s free. he won’t ever leave your side or let you leave his.

- needle boy would also make the effort to call up your male friends and come up with some stupid excuse of “y/n not wanting to be friends anymore” before hanging up and blocking them without waiting to hear their reply.

- illumi may be a little out of control if he’s jealous, but he wouldn’t take it out on you like hisoka would. he would simply ask Silva for permission to take up more jobs that he usually didn’t care about in an attempt to distract himself.

- upon coming home to you, he’s going to do the best his awkward self can to make you happy and comfortable.

- chrollo’s super chill with you having a bunch of male friends, since he constantly has to flirt with people (if needed) in order to do his job, so he feels that it’s only fair that you’re allowed to have male friends.

- this man is either too busy reading a book, organizing a heist or spending time with the troupe to even care who you’re friends with. he’s going to see them as targets of petty crimes like stealing.

- chrollo would listen to you when you talk about anything, including your male friends. you’re his precious gem after all.

- it’s almost impossible to make this gothboy jealous. whatever he wants, he just steals it, so he doesn’t see the need to be jealous of your male friends.

- he’s able to charm you with his charismatic smile and confidence, a bunch of male friends wouldn’t make him react with jealousy. however, if you got too close to your male friends, chrollo would relay his concerns to you directly.

- “y/n, don’t you think you’re getting a little too close to your male friends?”

- “are you jelaous?”

- “no,” he replies, a faint smile playing on his lips. “i’m just a little concerned they might take it wrongly and harm you.”

- you reassure him that your friends aren’t going to get the wrong message, and he pretends to assured on the surface.

- unlike illumi, chrollo wouldn’t isolate you from your friends, but he’s going to secretly send out two members of the troupe to follow you until you end up safely in his arms again.

- usually, it’ll be Franklin and Phinks who’ll follow you, their sheer size and intimidating faces enough to send off a warning to your male friends. Phinks especially, will take his job very seriously and protect you like you’re his younger sibling.

- chrollo is the master of deception, so he’s going to act like nothing happened and ask you how your day went, even if he knows everything beforehand when Franklin and Phinks reported everything they saw to him.

- he’s one to feign interest in your male friends, and then say something along the lines of

- “why don’t you introduce them to me?”

- and you’ll be too caught up in his web of deception before you know it.

- when around your male friends, he’s going to act like how he does usually, making him seem like the ideal lover who doesn’t get jealous of his lover having a bunch of male friends.

- but the grip he has on your waist would tell a different story.

- all in all, get ready to be so charmed off your pants with chrollo as your lover, so much so that you won’t even feel like hanging around any male anymore unless it is your smooth, suave, confident lover.

��

(illumi after blocking your friends:)

#hxh headcanons #hxh imagines #fluff #hunterxhunter #hxh chrollo #chrollo imagine #hisoka x reader #hisoka #illumi #illumi x reader #adult trio #yandere #sfw blog #hxh illumi #phantom investigators

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 3 years

Text

COSMIC - S3:E1; Chapter One, Suzie, Do You Copy? - [Pt. 3]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

Summer brings new jobs and budding romance. But the mood shifts when Dustin’s radio picks up a Russian broadcast, and Will senses something is wrong.

A/n: HAPPY [belated] 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 DAY!

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*✲ﾟ*｡⋆ huzzah

||𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

"Wait, how do you know he'll go to his room?" Max whispered.

The six kids stand shoulder to shoulder, their backs glued to the wall of the dining room behind the lounge. There they stood, tucked away just out of sight until their target could make it to the other end of the house.

"My mom's gonna tell him to unpack, she's in on it." Y/n explains quickly in hushed tones, packing in closer towards Max so as not to be seen. "Now shh, I think they're nearly at the-"

BAM

The sound of the front door being thrown open was enough to make everyone jump.

"Dustin!" Mrs. Henderson scolds from the other room. "Easy, will you? What if Tews had been standing there?"

Eyes jump around the room at one another, sly smirks growing on everyone's faces when they heard the commotion. By the sounds of it, their plan had worked and Dustin suspected nothing. Will relaxed only slightly when he heard his friend's voice from the other room. And it was only when he began to imagine the look on Dustin's face as he was saying these things that made Will giggle to himself.

"Sorry, sorry," Dustin says half-heartedly.

Y/n wraps a hand over her mouth, desperately trying to hide an infectious laugh that they all eventually catch at his whine.

Sure enough, they each perk upon hearing the sound of his stomps as he makes his way down the hall in a pout. It is then five pairs of eyes lay steadily on Y/n, waiting anxiously for her next move as she stands at the very corner of the wall. Her head cautiously peeks around the corner with a level of stealth and commitment they couldn't help but admire. Several moments pass before she beckons the party with one lightning fast gesture and they all shuffle back around the corner and back into the living room under her tactful lead.

Once again they find themselves packed in against a wall, Will even finds himself glued to the brick of the fireplace that prods his spine in fear of being seen, but he stays quiet. Itching to use her abilities, Y/n's eyes land on her mother who still lingers by the front door, purse hanging from her elbow. Y/n's friends all follow her gaze to see Mrs. Henderson collecting her keys and reaching for the doorknob.

She smiled at her daughter and her friends and began talking in a not so quiet whisper.

"I'm running late for my appointment-"

Y/n shook her head frantically from beside Max, eyes wide as her arms began waving desperately to quiet her mother as they all were doing. Claudia giggled to herself quietly, eyes going wide as she realized her blunder and mouthed a 'sorry'.

"Hey, Dusty-!" She called, eyes still saying trained merrily on the kids she was in cahoots with.

"...yeah?"

"I'm sorry I can't stay sweetie, but I'm running late. I'll be back by three. I love you! Glad you're home, and say hi to Tews, okay? She missed you!"

The sigh that left Dustin was powerful enough to be heard from the front room, eliciting even more hushed laughter among the group. Though Claudia failed to see, that for the kids, their laughter was more nervous than anything as they silently plead for her to leave in fear of her giving them away.

"Okay, love you too!"

Mrs. Henderson turned back to the lot and winked, pulling open the front door and continued to whisper to them with a blissful ignorance.

"Mac 'n Cheese is in the fridge if anybody wants some." She turned her attention towards Y/n, who looked as if she was ready to melt into the floor. "I love you Pumpkin, have fun."

And with that, Claudia disappeared outside, leaving the party—save for Y/n—with the impossible challenge of not giving themselves away. Lucas was biting his knuckles to keep from laughing, Max was giggling breathlessly into his arm and El and Mike were having just as much luck keeping quiet. Y/n buried her face in her hands and it was a bit easier for Will to swallow his laughter.

Eventually, the moment passed. Just in time too, as the worst of the laughter subsided, the group of friends could barely make out the sound of Dustin talking to himself. Yurtle, they realize, he must be talking to Yurtle.

"At least someone's happy I'm home," he said somberly, and the six of us all shared mischievous smiles. "My own sister isn't even here. She's probably sucking face with Byers somewhere," he sighed.

Y/n's cheeks burned and her jaw dropped. It was the others’ turn to stifle giggles and she looked around shocked and frankly, quite annoyed. Will, of course was the only exception, to which the poor boy’s face could rival a beet. In fact, all he could find himself doing was looking to everyone wide eyed shaking his head, as if to defend his himself and his whereabouts in that very moment. This only made everyone laugh more, and in that instant Will could feel the blush in his cheeks spreading and stinging down his neck and shoulders.

Y/n didn't appreciate that comment much either, and her embarrassment had a very different outlet they quickly found; she looked ready to pounce after Dustin but luckily Max had caught her and held her back. Not without pulling her hands away in a hiss, shaking them out a little. Y/n grumbled something to her, what Will assumed to be a 'sorry' and everyone else knew at once her powers had unintentionally stung Max.

In moments, the air falls silent as the opportunity presents itself. And for the second time in several moments, the party of Max Mayfield, Lucas Sinclair, Will Byers, Mike Wheeler, and El Hopper look down the line expectantly at their seventh member, Y/n Henderson as they wait for her signal. She met their gaze individually before taking a quick breath and closing her eyes. They all watch—Will especially who was completely transfixed—as several waves of heat seeped out of her in steady bursts. Each of them felt warm bursts on their skin almost instantly that kissed the air and moved anything it and everything it could—including Max's hair, prompting the girl to bunch it up over her shoulder. She seemed equally as amazed as everyone else was; watching the room carefully as Y/n's powers slowly and carefully took over the house.

Little things started to move; first the books on the bookshelves just over their heads had started to scrape loudly against the wood. The iron tongs by Will's feet began to rattle loudly, a steady clang that Dustin was sure to hear. Then they all felt it. The shake in the ground that one could barely make out if they tried hard enough.

Will found himself smiling so hard it hurt.

Y/n's was getting better at controlling it, and Will couldn't be more proud. Or in awe.

"What the...?"

On cue, everyone aside from the Henderson girl all looked over at El at the other end of the line, opposite Y/n. Her eyes were already closed and that's when the first beeps and whirs coming from Dustin's room could be heard. Mike recognized a few; like R2D2 and the cymbals from that creepy Jolly Chimp he despised but most of them just seemed like garbled voice boxes. And they could all still feel the rumble in their feet and that's when Will looked back at Y/n.

Veins beneath her skin were starting to show themselves around her lips and eyes from what he could see, but they weren't nearly as visible as they used to be. His eye contact on her was stolen away by Lucas who instantly shared the same thought, the two of them grinning and biting back laughs when he heard Dustin getting closer.

"It's just a dream." He told himself. "You're dreaming."

The rumbling grew more intense, her hold on the world beneath her began to spread past her property without her knowing and everyone was shocked to hear a car alarm go off in the neighbors driveway. Y/n's eyes ripped open, but the shaking continued with few faltering moments. Carefully and with her back glued to the brick wall of the fireplace, she poked her head around the corner only to jump back. She sent everyone a reassuring nod, her eyes zoning into a spot across the room as she kept her focus. With an iron grip on reality that she clung desperately to, Y/n slowly but surely reeled in her grip on the world around her, trying her best to keep it tethered to the boundaries she had mentally built to keep her powers contained.

A skill she was still learning how to hone in the past few months. Something she quickly found with her powers, and her potential, and how closely they resembled a dam. A dam once broken, was hard to rebuild and her safety relied on keeping her powers from spilling.

Only moments had passed, and so it would appear to Y/n, she was the only one to notice her small panic. But time marched on and so did the plan.

"Now!" Mike whispered.

In perfect sync, Y/n and El both stopped and so did the commotion they had caused. The room had stopped shaking and the toys had stopped making noise. Will sent a quick glance Y/n's way; she looked winded but more excited than anything which relived him greatly. He would have had to have been to dead to miss her panic, and he was glad she had powered through.

Silently as a mouse, she motioned the party to follow her and they all complied, as light on our feet as possible.

Lucas handed Y/n a corner of the banner as the party entered the lounge, the six friends creeping on their toes. Just as they all had hoped, Dustin was bent down in the carpet investigating the army of toys El had commanded, a display they welcomed eagerly enough that they completely glossed over the can of hairspray in Dustin's left hand.

Y/n brought her party blower up to her mouth as they all did, and Max silently counted down from three as Dustin stood to his feet.

Three...

Two...

And-

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"

Y/n jumped back and stumbled into Will's arms as she covered her ears, dropping the banner in the process. Reflexively, Will hugged her tight to his chest as his arms encapsulated her, pulling himself and her both away from Dustin's line of fire with his eyes squeezed shut. Dustin was still screaming and so was Lucas, eardrums were bursting and Max had to intervene to pull Dustin out of shock and to Lucas's aid.

Poor Lucas was still screaming as he clutched his eyes, now collapsed to his knees on the carpet. Y/n, Will, and Max rushed over, Y/n dropping to her knees to help as everyone looked up at Dustin gawking.

"Dustin! What the hell?"

Dustin was still in shock, looking back and forth between the banner, the can in his hand and Lucas. Y/n manages to stop Lucas's screaming and wipes the most aggressive pools of hairspray from around his eyes and his eyebrows with her thumbs to keep any more from getting in. She winces as he panics and tries her best to calm him down. Weakly, he tries to bat away her hands but none of it works.

"Don't do-! OW, OW OW! You're rubbing it in!" He cries.

"No, I'm not! I'm not touching your eyes! I'm cleaning your- STOP MOVING! More will get in if I don't get it off your forehead!"

"No, it won't-aaahhh!"

"You'll need to flush your eyes,"

Lucas immediately freezes, all efforts to bat her away halt but his eyes remain screwed shut and watering profusely. To the best of his ability, he gives her a stern look, not realizing he is missing Y/n completely and glaring at the tempered glass window behind her.

"Uh, no way."

Y/n looks up at Max, and without saying a word, Max Nods. Stepping forward, she hooks her arm under Lucas's shoulder pulling him up to his feet and drags him away around the corner, Lucas protesting the whole way.

As they do, all remaining attention turns to Dustin, expressionless. Y/n stands up and rips the can out of his hand, sending him a glare before looking at it. A funny look crosses her face and she looks back at him, any trace of anger lost in amusement.

"Why do you have Farrah-"

Dustin's eyes widen in a panic and he rips the can from her hand before she can finish.

"Thank you guys so much for the surprise!" He laughs nervously. "That was, uh- you guys, eh, you guys got me. Yeah. That was good. That was cool. Hey, SORRY ABOUT THAT LUCAS! MY BAD!"

He takes off for the kitchen, calling after Lucas leaving Will, Y/n, Mike and El in confusion. A knowing look flashes across Y/n's face as she crosses her arms and she calls out to him before Dustin can disappear around the corner.

"Speaking of," her voice full of mischief when she connects the dots. "Steve says hi~!"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

A stubborn summer breeze swept through downtown Hawkins, bringing with it several dried up leaves that still lingered from autumn as well as the occasional rogue flyer and yet this was the most populated it had been in weeks. All that was missing from the desolate wasteland of a scene was a tumbleweed strolling down the road.

Joyce Byers stood alone in the window of Melvald's as she strung up what seemed to be the hundredth variation of the store's discount sale sign as she stood atop a small step ladder. The radio spilled a soft tune into the store, no one else was around to hear it so Joyce didn't feel so bad about turning it up.

The store's bell rang much to her surprise, bringing her attention to the door. She found herself smiling a little at who stood in the entrance and she muttered a soft greeting.

"Hey," Hopper said, fidgeting with his hat. "You busy?"

Joyce secured the tie on the banner and her shoulders slacked in shrug. "You're our first customer, so..."

Hopper can't seem to meet her eye, the pit in his stomach as stubborn as the unsettling image of the previous night playing over in his head that twisted his gut. He doesn't have to say anything for Joyce to understand his dilemma. She doesn't bother to hide her exasperation with him either and she cocks her head and gives him an unimpressed look as she scoffs.

"What now?"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"And then El, she just... slams the door. Right in my face."

Hopper sits on an semi empty shelf, hands wrung together as he scowls at the pack of markers across the isle from him. Joyce casts a glance at him every now and then to show she's listening as she continues to work, not at all surprised by what she is hearing. Or why Hopper is mad. Yet still, she hardly bothers to show enthusiasm as she marks the price on her third package of Pro-Yo Yo-Yo's.

"Uh-huh," she mumbles, allowing Hopper to continue his rant.

"You know, it is that smug son of a bitch, Mike." He seethes, his bushy scowl never leaving his thousand yard stare. "He's corrupting her, I'm telling you."

The man is too upset and in his own head to notice Joyce make a small face at the accusation.

"And I'm just gonna lose it. I mean, I am gonna lose it, Joyce."

"Just take it down, Hopper," she eases, crossing over into the next isle.

"I need for them to break up." He declares suddenly, not unlike that of a pouting child.

"That is not your decision."

"They're spending entirely too much time together." He proclaims, standing up into a pace. "You agree with me about that, right?"

Joyce seems to think on this for a split second, a thoughtful frown written on her face as she pauses her work.

"Well, I mean, they're just kissing, right?"

"Yeah, but it is constant!" Feeling he hadn't made his point clearly enough, he steps forward and leans himself over a shelf. "It is constant. Okay? That is not normal, that is not healthy."

"You can't just force them apart. I mean, they're not little kids anymore, Hop. They're teenagers."

'They're not adults, either.' He thinks, angrily tossing a small rubber ball he had found up and down in the air as he paces.

"If you order them around like a cop, they're gonna rebel. It's just what they do."

"So what, I'm just supposed to let them do whatever they want?"

"No, I didn't say that." Joyce eases. "I think you should talk to them."

"No. No." Hopper sighs. "'Cause talking to them doesn't work."

Joyce fixes a stern glare on the man that she makes sure he sees. "Not yelling. Not ordering. But talk to them."

Hopper paces unsteadily, even shaking out his arms at the embarrassment that is already coming to him at the thought. This only worsen at what she says next.

"You know, like a heart-to-heart."

And yet, he stops suddenly. All trace of hostility replaced with uncertainty, and once again he fiddles with the hem of his hat.

"A heart-to-heart? What is that?"

"You sit them down and you talk to them, like you're their friend. I find if you talk to them like you're on their level, then they really start to listen."

Hopper leans tiredly against a support beam, anxiety bubbling up in his stomach.

"And then, you know, you could start to create some boundaries." She finishes.

"Boundaries," he contemplates softly, and Joyce nods.

"Yeah, but, Hop, it's really important that no matter how they respond, you stay calm."

Hopper rolls his eyes, something that does not escape Joyce. And despite her growing impatience with the man, she chooses to practice what she teaches and keeps her cool.

"You cannot lose your temper."

He uprooted his gaze from a spot on the ground and looks up at her, face still smushed against the support beam as he tries to entertain the idea.

"Did you have to do that with your boys?" He asks timidly.

The question paints another thoughtful look on her face as she recalls. But it's not long before she clicks her tongue and gives him a shake of the head.

"Not so much," she answers, marking another package of Yo-Yos before she interrupts herself momentarily. "I mean, not about this kind of stuff, no. I've talked to Jonathan some and he's a smart kid, you know. And Will, well, he's still pretty shy. I think he's getting used to this all this stuff still, I really don't think I have to worry about much for a while. But other stuff we've run into, like car payments with Jonathan or Will's chores... Both of their responsibilities around the house,"

She nods admittingly, sending Hopper an encouraging look.

"sometimes we need to rehash things like that, and I'll tell you, there's a lot less friction when you level with them."

Hopper watches his fingers as they steadily drum against the false wood of the beam, his mind racing and his dread building. In an attempt he knows is weak, he barely meets Joyce's eye and timidly asks.

"Maybe you could do it for me?"

Flabbergasted, Joyce shakes her head, mumbling several 'no's. Hopper steps forward eagerly, pleading with her.

"Yeah, you could. Yeah, you could," he says growing more excited. "You come over after work. Yes."

His feet spread far across the linoleum tile stretching his legs and lowering himself closer to her height. She only shakes her head further at his proposition, a small tug making itself known deep within her she can't allow herself to acknowledge.

"No, it only works if it comes from you," she says, jabbing the pricing gun on his chest that left a price sticker. She stops suddenly, a thoughtful look twisting her face that Hopper couldn't help but appreciate. "But..."

Joyce steps away and Hopper straightens, eagerly following her lead as she heads for her counter. "But?"

"Maybe I can help you," She pulls a pad of paper and pen from a hidden stack as she takes a seat, clicking the pen open as the words begin to accumulate in her mind. "find the right words."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Ow, ow, ow. Ow!"

Lucas stands wincing under the steady burst of lukewarm water that fell from the Henderson's kitchen faucet. Max watches with a sympathetic wince as he straightens, blinking back the painful sensation that stabbed at his eyes. Water covered his face and soaked some of his shirt, and yet he could still feel the stinging sensation in his corneas but the worst of it had subsided thankfully.

And he could finally open his eyes little by little now, which was a start.

"Better?" Asks Max, wince still screwed tight onto her face.

He takes a deep breath as Y/n makes her way into the kitchen in a brisk walk, a washcloth she had retrieved from the linen closet in hand. Lucas continues to blink back the blurry vision he still can't quite seem to escape as Y/n shoves the folded washcloth under the water while keeping a tentative eye on Lucas.

He inhales deeply, swiping several droplets from his eyes.

"Still stings." He answers finally.

Max frowns, not knowing what much else to say other than mumble a soft sorry he barely catches. Y/n stops the water, and rings out the small towel thoroughly before stepping back out of the way and refolding the piece of cloth.

She looks between her friends, offering a similar sympathetic look as she pressed the cloth firmly between her palms to reheat the already cooling water. Her powers work effortlessly to warm the now wet washcloth before she hands it over to him.

"This should help with the stinging. Don't use it yet though if your eyes aren't properly flushed,"

He sighs, taking it gratefully and pressing it to his eyes. The act draws out a small hiss but still he keeps it close to his eyes, welcoming the sense of relief it brings.

"Again, sorry about that," Y/n says, smiling weakly.

Lucas nods with a tight lipped smile and Max turns to smirk at Y/n.

"You seem to know a lot about this," she inquires.

A tired scoff breaks loose and Y/n's eyebrows shoot up in a funny look as she concedes.

"Unfortunately this isn't the first time something like this has happened with Dustin. One time I got up to get a midnight snack and he didn't hear me. Long story short, I spent the next half hour getting his glass of milk flushed out of my eyes. Some weaponized hairspray isn't that much of a surprise, I should have known."

There's a small beat of silence between the three of them that is soon broken by Lucas. He still holds the pink and slightly tattered washcloth firm against his eyes and a prolong sigh deflates his whole body as he nods.

"Yeah." He agrees somberly.

Chuckles bounce between the three of them and Y/n gives Lucas a quick pat on the back and a smile Max's way before leaving the kitchen. She disappears down the hall and into Dustin's room with others, leaving the couple alone yet again.

Lucas pulls the cloth away finally, his eyes still screwed shut. Max watches as he tests the waters and peels his eyes open. He's shocked to find no more pain or lingering sting left on his eyes, as of it had never been there. The only trace there had even been anything wrong is the hot washcloth in his hands and the almost non existent numbing tingle he felt in his eyes and the skin around them where Y/n had insisted on cleaning.

Noticing the odd look on his face, Max cocks a brow and looks go Lucas a bit uneasily.

"What?"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"I call it the Forever Clock," Dustin beams.

Mike, El, Y/n and Will stood gathered in Dustin's room surrounding him and his bag of trinkets he had created. With a bright grin he gives the lever on the device a spin, several of it's wooden popsicle parts spinning an eclectic blade of plastic and metal that one could only describe to look like a windmill.

"Alright? Powered by wind. Very useful in the apocalypse."

He hands the clicking contraption off to Will as he excitedly reached for another device. Will seems the only one taken with the device, and he smiles down at it impressed as he gives it several spins. Y/n watches from his side as he inspects the inner working of the contraption and she smiles to herself at the sight before her attention was pulled back to her brother.

"Then, I give you..." Dustin pulled another device from his bag, his excitement growing. "the Slammer."

Y/n, Mike and El seemed rather confused by the hammer he had pulled out and now began to fiddle with. Several pieces of unidentifiable objects were attached near the bottom of the handle. And with one simple click, the hammer comes to life in his hands. It shook immensely and even rattled his arm and yet he still stuck it forward for all to see. It brought out an impressed look on Y/n's face, which couldn't be said for the others.

Mike merely leaned away from the tremoring hammer with an unimpressed look, and El who clung to his shoulder, her arms interlaced with his took a cautious step back as her eyes widened. Will hadn't noticed, much too preoccupied with the Forever Clock and nobody seemed to notice the whiff of mischief take over him. He smiled at Y/n who still held her eye on the Slammer, and brought the Forever Clock closer to her face as he spun it. The clicks and whirs grabbed her attention and she turned just in time to see him clicking it towards her face. A small chortle escaped as she pushed it away, a toothy grin overtaking both their faces in a moment only they noticed as he gently teased her.

Dustin had already moved on, discarding the Slammer back on his bed and exchanging it for his duffle bag.

"—this is my masterpiece."

As carefully as the weight would allow him, Dustin dropped the bag to the ground creating a clunky and muted thunk, breaking the spell over the young couple and pulling them back to the present. Everyone followed suit as Dustin joined his duffle on the carpet, reaching for the zipper.

"I would like you to meet..." the bag is unzipped, unveiling an underwhelming pile of metal and wire. "Cerebro."

Dustin waited for the excitement he felt to spread to the others, his cheeks beginning to hurt from smiling. But he was only met with unimpressed and rather confused expressions. Mike didn't hold back.

"What exactly are we looking at here?"

Dustin's composure held, much too elated and content with his camp experiences to let the lack of enthusiasm dwindle his spirits.

"An unassembled one-of-a-kind battery-powered radio tower."

"So, it's a..." Will stammered, trying to hide his confusion rather poorly. "a ham radio."

"The Cadillac of ham radios." Dustin reassures. "This baby carries a crystal-clear connection over vast distances. I'm talking North Pole to South."

Y/n's eyebrows shot up, a factor Dustin did not fail to miss and his chest swelled a little with pride at what she said next.

"Wait, seriously?" She looks between Mike and Will before back to her brother. "And you made this?"

He straightens immediately, his chin hiking as he sends his sister a nod. She returns her attention to the bag, eyes carefully scanning the pieces in thought. Y/n the most of all unprepared for what he had to say next.

"Yep. And I can talk to my girlfriend whenever and wherever I choose."

Y/n's head was suddenly ripped away from the bag at a speed so quick it was a wonder she didn't break her neck, her eyes growing the size of saucers to rival everyone else's.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Max and Lucas stand hunched over a tupperware of Kraft Mac & Cheese they had fished from the refrigerator, both of them fighting over territory with their own forks as the sea of macaroni quickly disappeared. Max takes a big bite, her eyes fluttering closed as she enjoys the impromptu lunch.

Lucas hums along with her, nodding his head as he thoroughly enjoys the cold leftovers. He shakes his head, defeated.

"This is pretty damn good," he admits.

Max hums an agreement, scooping up another small mountain of noodles as she does so.

"Wish we could have asked Y/n to heat it up for us though," Lucas frowns.

Max shoves the comment aside in her mind, and rolls her eyes. "There's a microwave right there,"

He shrugs innocently, his voice almost sad. "I know, but it's not as quick."

"Think we should save—"

Max stops midsentence when the sound of Y/n's muted voice echoes throughout the house

"WHAT?"

Lucas and Max freeze, even their jaws stop chewing as they frown in the direction her voice had come from. Slowly their heads turn to meet in an unsettled and worried gaze.

She couldn't know they were eating all her food, right?

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Wait, so her name is Suzie?" Mike asks, close on Dustin's tail.

Backpack slung over his shoulders, Dustin coasts down the hallway, heading straight of the living room leaving the others not much time to catch up. Each of them had agreed to take sections of the cerebro in exchange for more information and a chance at talking to her if they helped him set up.

"Suzie with a 'z'," Dustin confirms, his heart fluttering at the thought of the girl he already missed dearly. "She's from Utah."

Without thinking, Will blurts out. "Girls go to science camp?"

And without missing a beat, Y/n sends him a bewildered and exasperated look as they scurry to stay on Mike and El's heels.

"You were single-handedly raised by Joyce Byers, how is it you keep asking things like this?"

Flustered at his mistake, he shakes his head and a sharp pang of guilt and embarrassment landed in his gut. Frantically, he shakes his head.

"No, sorry, that came out—" he sputters, shaking his head. "I meant there were girls there? Like wouldn't they keep them separate?"

Y/n sends him a flat and unimpressed look as her gaze slinks away from him and towards Dustin waiting for his answer.

"Yes and no." Dustin replies quickly, heading for the door much to the confusion of Lucas and Max who were still elbow deep in Mac & Cheese. "It's a boy/girl camp, but they house us separately, obviously."

"Is she cute?" Mike asks, genuinely excited for his friend.

"Think Phoebe Cates, only hotter."

El sends a confused glance to Y/n, silently asking for help. "Phoebe Gates?"

Y/n shrugs, swallowing the light hearted chuckle that came with El's mispronunciation. Easing her worry away, Y/n quickly mumbled. "A TV person." Which promoted a small, knowing nod from El as it clicked in her head.

"What's going on?" Max asked finally, as she straightened curiously.

One by one they began filing out the front door. El, Will, and Y/n the last to leave as each they lugged their own section of the cerebro. Y/n grew visibly exuberant as she all but skipped out of the door, the brightest spark of mischief dancing in her eyes.

"We're going to talk to Dustin's girlfriend."

Simultaneously, their forks dropped with a muted clang. Lucas, who up until this very moment had been quite invested in the Mac & Cheese sprang up from where he towered over the counter. Much too eagerly in fact as the back of his skull quickly met the underside of the hanging cupboards. And yet he was too stunned to care.

"—Girlfriend?"

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**I can't quite remember if I have shared this link before so I sincerely apologize. If that is the case though it is still a very useful link worth being reminded of and worth a second look**

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Tag List: @dickkwad @aimee-lucass @iblesstherainsdown-in-africa @ @miscellaneoustoasts @happyandlonely-blog @missmulti @youpi-chan @peeperparkour @ba-responds @bibliophilesquared @blogforhoes @witch-of-all-things-soft @shawkneecaps @whothefuckstolemykeds @mirdall @fishswimbetterunderwater @daughter-of-the-stars11 @stranger-things4 @kpopanimegirl @nightbu-g @lozzybowe

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#cosmic 3 #will byers x reader #y/n henderson #will byers #max mayfield #lucas sinclair #mike wheeler #el hopper #dustin henderson #joyce byers #jim hopper #stranger things #stranger things 3 #suzie do you copy?#will byers imagine #will byers series

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polyamoryinfandoms · 3 years

Text

Monthly Fic Roundup!

Hey gang! I’m posting the fics that were recommended on our last surveymonkey poll; thanks for everyone who recommended fics. Please note I did not get to read every fic on here and depended on your responses and the AO3 tags to mark for any triggers or story notes, so please read with caution if you’re worried about any content warnings!

If you want to recommend more fics, I’ll be posting another roundup poll later in the day today!

Under the cut are 32 fics from:

Agents of Shield (1)

Bill & Ted (1)

Castlevania (1)

Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (1)

DCU (2)

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (4)

Game of Thrones (1)

Harry Potter (1)

Leverage (1)

Mission Impossible (1 -- series)

Sanders Sides (1-- series)

Sense8 (1)

Sherlock (1-- series)

Star Wars (1)

Stranger Things (8)

The Man from U.N.C.L.E. (1)

The Untamed/CQL/MDZS (2)

Teen Wolf (2)

White Collar (1)

Agents of Shield:

is it chill that you’re in my head? by lazyfish

Pairing: Lance Hunter/Bobbi Morse/Alphonso Mackenzie

TW/TAGS: PTSD, Referenced Torture

Summary: It doesn't take long for Mack to realize he's in love with Bobbi and Hunter and has been for a while. Other realizations take slightly longer.

Bill and Ted (movie):

Our Home, Our Family, Our Love by CaptainWeasley

Pairing: Bill/Ted/Elizabeth/Joanna

TW/TAGS: slurs, implied/referenced child abuse, internalized homophobia, self harm

Summary: A series of firsts in Ted's life, as he slowly comes to terms with his sexuality and learns how to handle being in love with both his wife and his best friend. When Billie and Thea come out as trans, each in her own way, he does everything he can to help them be who they are.

Castlevania:

Deliverance by cricketsong1985

Pairing: Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades/Alucard

TW/Tags: Blood kink, explicit sexual content, gore, trauma, angst

Summary: Adrian is beginning to think that Wallachia will be a smoking pile of ash long before he, Trevor, and Sypha can stop Dracula’s war on humanity. They’ve been chasing the castle for months, but each time they get close, it vanishes. Traveling with such genuine and trustworthy allies has been unexpectedly pleasant; Adrian doesn’t mind that Trevor and Sypha are involved with each other, but he is taken entirely by surprise when they open their relationship to him one evening. Hopelessly in over his head, his heart keeps urging him forward, even when he’s forced to confront the darkest aspects of his nature. Adrian must learn to swallow his pride and let himself be vulnerable if he wants a chance at happiness. Unfortunately, there isn’t much time for looking within when the world is drenched in blood and magic, and the path to victory may destroy him completely.

Chilling Adventures of Sabrina:

We will be judged by the courage of our hearts by MagicClem

Pairing: Harvey Kinkle/Sabrina Spellman/Nicholas Scratch

TW/TAGS: mention of an abusive parent

Summary: It's been a month since the 13 almost destroyed Greendale. Now a full Witch, Sabrina tries to move on, with the help of one Nicholas Scratch.But one night, Harvey arrives at the Spellman's house and everything becomes complicated.

DCU:

not for the faint of heart by pasdecoeur

Pairing: Hal Jordan/Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent

TW/TAGS: Explicit Sexual Content

Summary: Clark opens a door that was meant to stay closed. Things spiral. or, What Not To Do When You’ve Fallen in Love with Batman: A Guide by Hal Jordan & Clark Kent.

All Good Things Come in Threes (Legends of Tomorrow) by IncendiaGlacies

Pairing: Gideon/Rip Hunter/Miranda Coburn

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting

Summary: “Two is a couple, three is a crowd,” Gideon stated. In which Gideon navigates her polyamorous relationship with Rip and Miranda. Domestic slice of life goodness.

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off:

Pairing for all of these are Pairing: Cameron/Ferris/Sloane and are written by @fbdo1986

it’s enough to be whiplash

TW: death mention (no character death), drowning

A/N: To put it plainly, I took a few tricks from John Hughes’s earlier scripts of the film, which were more surreal and up-front with discussing death and end of the world scenarios. It was inspired by a concept that I couldn’t seem to shake after I thought of it: what if the pool scene was just a bit more high stakes?

all the things I never told you

Summary: It’s Sloane, Ferris, and Cameron’s first afternoon alone at the Bueller residence in months. The busy twenty-four year olds who’ve struggled to find time together as their lives unfold in front of them try to think of what to do for the day when Cameron decides to let them in on what he’s been keeping from them.

bye bye love

TW: Death mention (none of the main characters)

Summary: A hopefully angsty number that details Sloane’s, Cameron’s, and Ferris’s journey through heartbreak and loss after their Sophomore year in college. The title is named after a song by The Cars by the same name!

firestarter

Prompt #5: Where it doesn’t hurt with the OT3

Game of Thrones:

Constellatory by blueandbulae

Pairing: Theon Greyjoy/Sansa Stark/Margaery Tyrell/Robb Stark (polycule, NO incest)

TW: Some canon typical violence

Summary: It’s strange and messy and maybe nobody else will ever understand them but it works. It’s theirs, and theirs alone, and nobody can take that from them.Or: Robb and Theon storm King's Landing, rescue the princesses, and save the kingdom. Then comes the hard part.

Harry Potter:

Unconventional by silver_fish

Pairing: Harry Potter/Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger

Summary: A few years, now, have passed since Hedwig’s death, and Hermione thinks it’s time Harry got a new pet. What sort of pet, though, neither she nor Ron know. Not until Harry himself offers her the perfect solution, that is.

Leverage:

for better or worse (we change together) by idkimoutofideas

Pairing: Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer

TW/TAGS: Canon typical violence

Summary: The moment Parker saw the stranger standing by the elevator, a dozen alarm bells went off in her head. She froze, and Hardison nearly walked into her as he entered behind her. It took her a moment to realize that while half of the alarm bells were telling her to get the fuck out of there, the other half were telling her to look closer. Or, Eliot Spencer is a recent war veteran who just moved to Portland in an attempt to lead a calmer lifestyle. He ends up with some weird neighbors, but it's Portland, everyone's a little weird.

Mission Impossible:

Polyamorous Spies (series of 2 fics) by MagicClem

Pairing: Benji Dunn/Ethan Hunt/Ilsa Faust

TW/TAGS: Blood & injuries (2nd fic)

Sander’s Sides:

Love and Other Fairytales by SoDoRoses (Fairychess)

Pairing: LAMP/CALM (Logan, Roman, Virgil, Patton)

TW: violence, major character death, no NSFW in the main fic but there is a side series with NSFW, animal death, description of rot, nonconsentual control of another person, 'like death' state of being

Sense8:

Crazy Life by MagicClem

Pairing: Kala Dandekar/Wolfgang Bogdanow/Rajan Rasal

Summary: Rajan would admit that this past few years had been crazy and life seems determined to make it crazier and crazier.Or: This is "Amor Vincit Omnia" from Rajan's perspective.

Sherlock:

Lorem Ipsum by Saathi1013 (series)

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson/Sarah Sawyer

TW: Abduction

Star Wars:

so just pull the trigger by Darnaguen

Pairing: Han Solo/Qi'ra/Lando Calrissian

TW/TAGS: Alcohol use

Summary: “Oh, don’t pout Haan.” Lando lounges back, licking his newly berry-tinted lips with a lazy grin. “You know all you have to do is ask.”(Qi’ra’s eyes are glinting and her smile is dagger-sharp. Han knows the look: it’s one she wears whenever she has a winning hand.The dice on the table are mediocre at best. He shakes his head and drinks deep.)

Stranger Things:

All pairings are Steve Harrington/Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler

The Hawkins Three by nonymos

TW: Some canon typical homophobia and slurs

Summary: It's two weeks after the Snow Ball, Nancy's officially with Jonathan, and Steve is trying to move forward. If only he wasn't on a path that keeps circling back to the both of them.

lovers in a dangerous time by diogxnes

TW/TAGS: Briefly: panic attacks/PTSD, parental neglect

Summary: “So,” says Robin, sitting back in her chair, “what’s the deal there, anyway? With the whole you-Nancy-Jonathan thing.”The question makes his mouth run dry. Why would she ask that? Can she tell, possibly, how much he’s been thinking about Nancy these past few days? How starstruck he was when Nancy showed up at his house? Does she know about the mysterious warmth in his stomach when he thinks about Jonathan? “What do you mean, the whole me-Nancy-Jonathan thing?” “Come on, Steve. She’s your ex and he famously beat you up two years ago and now they’re dating each other and all three of you somehow ended up a part of this weird little monster-fighting club together. There’s gotta be a story there.”“I don’t know, Robs,” says Steve, rolling his eyes, relieved beyond measure that that’s all she meant. “You pretty much just covered all of it. There’s not much more to tell.”

Have Happened by cortexikid

TW/TAGS: Homophobia

Summary: "I overheard you. You were talking in your sleep.”Steve's heart fluttered nervously.“It was a little funny at first,” Nancy admitted, her tone a mix of teasing and apologetic, “you were moaning my name and I thought it’d be kinda funny if Mike accidentally overheard you having a sex dream about his sister—”Steve couldn’t control the guffaw that escaped him. “But then you said Jonathan’s name. Right after mine. All in the same breath.”

it’s a risk, it’s a gamble by nondz (pinkjook)

TW/TAGS: NSFW

Summary: “I think we should pretend to date,” Robin says. "What?" Steve answers.

still turning out by scoutshonor

TW/TAGS: Homophobic language

Summary: Steve knows senior year's supposed to be tough, but seriously?Not only does his dad want him to take over his business, but he lands himself into a fight with his best friend leaving him friendless and booted out of his inner-circle, gets stuck watching a bunch of kids after school because of a missing credit, has to repeat eleventh grade history, and, oh yeah. He has the minor issue of having no idea what he actually wants to do with his life.But it's not all that bad: not the kids he has to watch, and certainly not Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers, two friends from his history class. Friends. Just friends. Yeah, he and you both know that's bullshit.Steve's got a lot of figuring out to do.(or: HSAU Stoncy with Steve as a senior, doing his best)

(Following Stoncy fics are by @pterawaters)

Now and For Always

TW/TAGS: Explicit, Sex where one party is drunk and the other isn't

Summary: Between graduating from college, starting new careers, and planning a wedding, the summer of 1990 is a busy time for Nancy, Steve, and Jonathan. When a war starts in the middle east, Jonathan gets called away just three weeks before the wedding. He’s determined to make it back in time, no matter what it takes.

It's not like people live like this

TW/TAGS: Car Accidents, Period-Typical Homophobia, NSFW

Summary: Concerned that Steve's less-than-stellar grades might have been making them look bad, his parents hired him a tutor, Jonathan Byers, they were sure he wouldn't find as distracting as his last one. Sure, Jonathan had good grades in school, but he really wished he didn't have to take the extra work to help his mother put food on the table. After all, everyone knew Steve Harrington was a jerk. Right? It turned out, not so much. After an impromptu study-session-turned-party and a game of spin the bottle, Steve and Jonathan both found themselves dating Nancy Wheeler. And that wasn't even the strangest thing that happened to any of them that week.

Mr. Sandman (series)

TW/TAGS: Canon-typical violence, Explicit scenes

The Man from U.N.C.L.E.:

Simmer On Low by canardroublard

Pairing: Illya/Napoleon/Gaby

TW/TAGS: semi-implied consensual voyeurism, whump

Summary: Scenes from five kitchens.

The Untamed/CQL/MDZS:

inclusions by keiyashi

Pairing: Sòng Lán | Sòng Zǐchēn/Xiǎo Xīngchén/Xuē Yáng | Xuē Chéngměi

TW/TAGS: NSFW

Summary: “I guess I feel left out. And I’m asking you to show me how not to?”“Show you?” Xue Yang laughs, easing the tension the only way he knows how. “Daozhang, if you aren’t careful, I might think you’re implying something quite forward.”Xingchen blinks at him. “Xue Yang, I feel like you’re trying to embarrass me, but that is what I was implying.”

melting the glacier by keiyashi

Pairing: Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén/Mèng Yáo | Jīn Guāngyáo/Niè Míngjué

Summary: Wanting to be with Nie Mingjue is something Lan Xichen accepted about himself long ago. He wants only happiness for his friend, no matter what form it takes. Even if that form is quite lovely and possesses an enchanting mouth.

Teen Wolf:

Feels Better Biting Down by callunavulgari, hiza-chan (callunavulgari)

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale/Lydia Martin

TW/TAGS: Blood

That I See You by FiccinDylan

Pairing: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski/Jordan Parris

TW/TAGS: NSFW, abo, m-preg (non graphic), werewolves, triads are normal

Summary: Deputy Jordan Parrish and Chef Derek Hale are in the prime of their lives and ready to take the next step in their relationship by courting an omega. Everything seems to be progressing smoothly until the new omega (aka Stiles Stilinski, the sheriff’s son) surfaces some unresolved tension from Jordan’s past. Jordan originally had the benefit of amnesia to block out his harried background, but now with his amnesia behind him, will he be able to resolve his past before he ruins his future?

White Collar:

Always Starts the Same, with a Boy and a Girl by lightgetsin

Pairing: Neal Caffrey/Peter Burke/Elizabeth Burke

Tags: AU

Summary: Summer, 1998. Neal Caffrey robs the gallery where Elizabeth O'Dell is working late, and comes away with a lot more than art. Agent Burke has no idea what's about to hit him.

30 notes · View notes

artmakerproductions · 3 years

Photo

Old “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” Art from 2018:

1) https://www.deviantart.com/artmakerproductions/art/Charlie-Bucket-and-Mr-Wonka-752843544

Charlie’s family is incredibly poor, but that doesn’t stop little Charlie from doing good things for others. He is grateful for what he has, and doesn’t complain. The one thing he loves most of all (aside from his family) is chocolate. One day, he finds some money and spends it on a single Wonka Bar... and finds the last Golden Ticket. Mr. Wonka is an eccentric, mysterious and rather jolly fellow for his age. He is always looking for new ways to create the best candies n’ sweets. When he was a boy, he moved into the country w/ his family to look for opportunities for success. He had his first ever bar of chocolate for his 12th birthday, and he dedicated his life to producing sweets and candies afterwards in an effort to share his marvellously tasty creations w/ the rest of the world.

2) https://www.deviantart.com/artmakerproductions/art/Augustus-Gloop-752645225

Augustus is a greedy and gluttonous young boy who is always hungry and lacks self control when it comes to food. His personality reflects this as he is extremely rude and has little to no table manners. This leads to his downfall on the tour as he deliberately disobeys Wonka and attempts to drink from the chocolate river. He falls in, and is sucked up the pipe. 3) https://www.deviantart.com/artmakerproductions/art/Violet-Beauregarde-752648234

Violet is rather competitive and always finding ways to boost her ego and prove she’s better that those around her. She is also a show-off and is rather reckless. This leads to her downfall as she decides to take Wonka’s “three course meal” gum without his knowledge. Unfortunately, she is turned a blueberry due to the blueberry pie (the gum’s dessert) and is rolled to the juicing room... 4) https://www.deviantart.com/artmakerproductions/art/Veruca-Salt-752654498

Veruca is a very spoiled child and has never been denied anything she demands. Her parents are basically her servants rather than actual parents. While on the tour, Wonka takes them to the Nut Room and she instantly wants one of Wonka’s trained squirrels. He tells her “no”, which enrages her. She goes to get one herself, but is tackled by the squirrels and after being declared a “Bad Nut”, she’s thrown down the garbage chute...

5) https://www.deviantart.com/artmakerproductions/art/Mike-TeeVee-752661319

Mike hates everything. He stays up in his room day-in, day-out and rarely socializes w/ others. He is very intelligent for his age and uses it for his own benefit in the worst ways possible. Preferably, to belittle those around him. Until he meets Wonka, who flips the table on him and puts him in his place. In the end, Mike decides to ignore Wonka and zaps himself into the internet... 6) https://www.deviantart.com/artmakerproductions/art/The-Oompa-Loompas-753949032

The Oompa Loompas are Mr. Wonka’s employees who run the factory in exchange for coco beans (which is their favourite food) as their pay. Wonka, not wanting to be further robbed of his recipes, decided to venture to his home country in search of ‘Loompaland’ home of the fabled Oompa Loompa. As a boy, Wonka had heard stories of ‘tiny people’ who love to play tricks on unsuspecting folk who wonder into their jungle home. After Wonka had found them, he made a deal w/ the Oompa Loompas that he’d provide food and shelter in exchange for their employment at his factory. They agreed. Now, they work his machines and are provided w/ what Wonka promised (even allowing them to design their own uniforms).

7) https://www.deviantart.com/artmakerproductions/art/Charlie-and-the-Chocolate-Factory-4-754376865

I decided to showcase various moments from the book (with my own spin to it), including: - Mike TeaVea (TeeVee?) making the ‘jump’ into the internet. I did an updated version of the machine that transports objects into the television (or in this case, the internet). In my version, Wonka wants to place ads for his candy on the internet, as well as TV. - The Oompa Loompas singin’ & dancin’ at Augustus’ misfortune. I was inspired by the London production of Charlie & the Chocolate Factory version of Augustus’ farewell song as they tap danced upon the pipe system as Augustus was squeezed through the pipe. - Charlie and Wonka in the Great Glass Elevator looking at the world beneath them. The design is based on those old school elevators you see in hotels, but w/ a futuristic look. - Violet Beauregarde in the middle of blowing up into a blueberry. - Veruca Salt being chased down by squirrels after disturbing their work. 8) https://www.deviantart.com/artmakerproductions/art/Violet-Beauregarde-764765056

A re-design of my depiction of the character Violet (original here) from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by Roald Dahl. Felt like the old one needed some adjustments.

9) https://www.deviantart.com/artmakerproductions/art/Charlie-and-the-Chocolate-Factory-7-769052279

This is the aftermath of the tour: Charlie is put in charge of running the factory, Augustus is skinny after being squeezed through the pipe and is covered in chocolate, Violet is drained of the blueberry juice and is a permanent shade of blue/purple, Veruca is covered in garbage and smells awful, and Mike is stretched out and is extremely tall. ...

“Charlie & the Chocolate Factory”, is owned by Roald Dahl, while the art/depictions of the characters is done by me.

#charlie and the chocolate factory #fanart #digital art #drawing #reimagined #violet beauregarde #augustus gloop #mike teavee #willy wonka #charlie bucket #veruca salt #oompa loompa

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cxplqnce · 4 years

Text

Lance Hunter - Should’ve Said It ft. Grant Ward

Based off Should’ve Said It by Camila Cabello

Word Count: 2,656

Show up at my door, but I don't live there anymore

Sendin' me your songs, but they don't really sound like before

I was crazy for you, all caught up and confused

Love was broken for me, now it's broken for you

Grant Ward. That was the name of the back-stabbing, hydra kiss-up dickhead that you once loved. But he betrayed you, all of you and you spent months getting over him and what he did to you. You had to learn how to love again, how to trust again and it wasn’t easy. Fortunately, you had help, Lance Hunter - a dashing mercenary sharp shooter with a quick wit who you fell for very quickly.

You’d met him when he joined SHIELD after his friend was killed. You’d been drowning your sorrows about Ward when he walked past. You offered for him to join you and he couldn’t refuse – this event created a bond of friendship that grew stronger every day. A few weeks after you’d met you slept together. You didn’t exactly mean for it to happen but once it did, you were both happier – it forced you both to admit your feelings for each other and you’d been in a steady relationship ever since.

He’d been teaching you how to love again.

Isn't it something? That I get more when I'm giving you nothing? Huh

Isn't it magic? That when you stop lookin' for it, it happens?

Baby, he fell from grace, landed right in your place

Kissed me so many times that I forgot your taste

Lance had been so careful and gentle with you once you’d told him about Ward. Lance definitely wasn’t his biggest fan but he hated him even more when he found out how much he had hurt you. You’d also had trouble controlling your inhuman power – luck. You could change the luck of yourself and others at will, and you had full control except when you felt off which happened a lot after Ward’s betrayal. There’d been numerous accidents around you – people dropping things and falling over. Lance had helped you control it even when you felt off, he even called you his Lucky Lady.

You’d taken your relationship slowly and you were so happy with Lance, happy enough to forget Ward’s name – however, Coulson didn’t seem to get this particular memo.

“We're making a deal... with Ward.” He said, while you sat with Hunter and Fitz on a quinjet. As soon as the name left his lips, you felt your heartbeat quicken and fear filled your head. You instinctively reached for Lance’s hand.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say.” Lance asked, anger and disbelief rising in his words.

Coulson deactivated the black box, “As I said, desperate times, desperate measures.”

------------

A while later, Coulson was talking to Ward (accompanied by Mike Peterson) while you, Hunter and Fitz stayed at the quinjet. Hunter was trying his best to keep his cool and reassure Fitz while you sat alone, listening to Coulson and Ward’s conversation through coms.

“You doing okay, gorgeous?” Lance asked, sitting down next to you and resting his hand on yours.

You nodded your head, even though it was a lie. Coulson was bringing Ward back to the quinjet and you weren’t sure you were ready to see him. You hadn’t seen him since he broke your heart; you hadn’t visited him while he was living under the base.

Lance cleared his throat, gaining your full attention, “I know you’re lying, you’re terrified.” He said, putting his arm around you and pulling you into his chest. You rested your head down and took some deep breaths – trying to control your power and your brain all at once. “It’s okay to be scared, but I’m going to be here the whole time. I won’t leave your side.”

“Thank you.”

I wish that you could turn back the time

You hold me closer, instead of your pride

I knew it was you from the very first night

And it took you two years to make up your mind

You sat in the cockpit of the quinjet when you heard the car approaching. You knew that you were about to see him again and you didn’t know what to do with yourself. He had been the source of your trauma, your problems and you knew that Fitz felt exactly the same. He was sat next to you in the cockpit with Lance standing behind you watching the door.

You heard footsteps and moved out of your seat, coming face to face with Grant Ward. He smirked at you, “Hello, Y/N. It’s been a while. I’ve missed you.”

You couldn’t control what you did next. You took a deep breath out and launched at him, punching him square in the jaw. Lance pulled you away and wrapped you in his arms, whispering ‘I love you’ and ‘It’s okay’ in your ear over and over. Coulson directed Ward, Agent 33 and Bakshi, who they’d brought with them, to sit down as you did too. Fitz opted to sit in the cockpit with Mike, but you had the pleasure of sitting across from Ward.

You pulled your gun out of your pocket and loaded it, turning the safety off and pointing it right at Ward, “If you even blink, I will not hesitate to pull this trigger.”

“You’ve gotten stronger, more resilient. I’d like to think I had something to do with that, Y/N.” He smirked, trying to get to you.

You smirked back, “Yeah, actually, you made me realise that there are so many jackasses like you in the world, and I need to be my own superhero sometimes.” Ward was taken aback by your sudden confidence but Lance seemed very impressed.

Coulson explained the mission and soon enough you landed and the mission was a go. You helped Fitz get into Mike’s eye feed and stood by Lance to watch. Lance immediately held your hand, making sure you were as far away from Ward as possible. The meet went as it should up until Bakshi started to mention something about selling Mike and everyone turned against each other. Guns flew up and knives came out.

You held your gun up to Ward and closed your eyes; soon enough, Ward took a step forward and clumsily tripped on air, falling to the ground. You and Coulson held your guns to him while Lance held his gun to Agent 33’s head – ordering her to release Fitz or he’d shoot, which she did. Fitz disarmed Mike, who was about to shoot everyone in the room and everyone put their weapons down.

“You pull anything like that again; I'll throw your ass off this quinjet at 20,000 feet.” Coulson threatened.

You smiled, “And I’ll be the one opening the door.”

So you want me now? That's funny

'Cause you didn't give a, back then

Comin' back around, so sorry

'Cause there's no room in my bed and I'm all good now

Someone else is gettin' all of me

If you wanted me so desperately

You should've said it

The quinjet dropped down and Fitz pointed out Skye. You followed Hunter and Coulson holding your gun in one hand and stuffing a knife into your side pocket. Once you were in the building you were swarmed by guards. You stood behind Lance, closing your eyes and picturing the probability of the guards shooting each other, falling over and knocking each other out and you made it skyrocket. Once you opened your eyes, the seven guards who were attacking you were out cold.

Coulson gave an order and went to find Skye, Ward sneaking away to follow him. Unfortunately, you and Lance were too preoccupied with Ward’s actions to notice the guy behind you who shot before either of you could do anything. The bullet landed in Lance’s side and after assuring you that he was fine, he urged to you go and find Ward and stop him from doing more harm than good.

You caught up to them and were able to get the two guards they were fighting to knock each other out, before you grabbed your gun and whacked Ward in the face, causing a deep red cut to appear on his left cheek. “Hey!” He yelled, “I am trying to help you!”

“Yeah, like you did when you almost killed FitzSimmons, or when you hung me out to dry with Hydra! You are a lying jackass, who I never should’ve trusted!” You shouted, feeling better after getting your anger out.

“Skye!” Coulson called, pulling you out of your argument. Unfortunately, before you could run to hug her, two guys came out of nowhere and they teleported away.

“I had her, damn it, I had her.” Coulson muttered to himself, while you stood next to him.

Suddenly you heard a noise and turned around to be faced with the barrel of a gun but Ward shot the guy before he could hurt you. “If you’re looking for thanks, you’re not getting it.”

Lance and Agent 33 appeared and you immediately ran to him, “I shouldn’t have left you, I’m sorry.” You whispered, resting your hands on his cheeks.

“I was the one who insisted, and I’m fine.” He croaked, his wound was bleeding profusely and causing him to look more tired.

“You just need to stay awake, okay, babe? Stay awake.” You mumbled.

You're only lonely, now you ain't the one that hold me

Only lonely now, now

You sat next to Lance, pressing a cloth to his wound; he hissed every now and then at the contact but you would always fire back with a small quip to shut him up. Little did you know that Ward was watching you from the cockpit. He told himself that he loved Kara but that wasn’t true, he loved you. He missed you and he knew that he’d do anything to make you his – even killing Hunter.

“I don’t know how you can even be in the same room with him, much less work with him after what he did,” Lance said to you, as you dressed his wound.

You chuckled, “Well, I’ve already hit him twice; I plan on increasing that number.” You joked, finishing the dressing before looking up at him, “Plus, I’ve got you. You make everything easier.”

“Good, I love you.” He whispered.

“I love you too,” You whispered back before leaning in to kiss him.

Ward watched as you kissed Hunter like he was your everything, which he was. Ward began to feel extremely jealous; he was who you should be kissing. Him not Hunter. You should be with him. He convinced Kara to leave the cockpit and she went and sat by the computer screen.

“Y/N, can you come here a minute?” Ward called, interrupting your conversation with your boyfriend.

You sighed, “What do you need, asswipe?”

Ward chuckled at your blatant hatred and dropped his head slightly, “Can’t I just want to chat, clear some things up?”

Lance looked at you, “You don’t have to.”

“It’s okay,” You replied, “Fine.” You said, standing up and going to sit in the cockpit. You sighed deeply when you took in the view from the window, you’d never get used to it, the beauty of the sky. “What did you want to talk about?”

“You like the view? Because it’s too bad I never got to teach you how to fly like I said I would.” He said, so casually it was as if he forgot the last six months.

You kept your straight face, looking over at the controls and flicking one of the buttons, taking the stick from him and flying seamlessly, “May taught me. I guess I never needed you.”

“You’ve gotten more control over your powers; they’ve gotten stronger since I last saw you. You can control when you use them on other people now, back then you couldn’t even affect other people’s luck.” He explained, looking at you as you flew the jet.

“No thanks to you. Although, what you said earlier, that I’m stronger because of you – you aren’t wrong. All the trauma and pain, pushed me to work harder, get better so that one day I could wipe that stupid smirk off your face.” You threatened.

He chuckled, “And how could you do that? All you do is control luck.”

“Luck is a game of probabilities.” You started, turning to face him, looking him right in the eye, “And I hold all the cards.” You said through gritted teeth before you turned your attention back to the view.

“We could’ve been great together, Y/N. You just had to leave and start dating that guy.” He said disgust in his voice when he mentioned Hunter.

“That guy, is more of a man than you’ll ever be and I love him more than I ever loved you, so you can forget us ever being an us again. I’m way too good for you.” You spat, before moving back into a seat by Lance.

So you want me now? That's funny

'Cause you didn't give a, back then

Comin' back around, so sorry (hey)

'Cause there's no room in my bed and I'm all good now

Someone else is gettin' all of me

If you wanted me so desperately

You should've said it; you should've said it, love

The team had gotten back to the base, with Ward and Agent 33 and Lance had gone to medical to get checked out by Simmons who very quickly gave him the all clear with orders to rest. You had brought him back to your room and cuddled on the couch while watching some tv.

“I’m sorry Coulson brought Ward on the mission, if I knew he was going to do that I never would’ve suggested that you come.” Lance apologised, rubbing your arm with his thumb.

You smiled, “It’s okay, I’m sorry that you got shot because I was too distracted by my demons to focus on you and the mission.” You apologised back.

“It’s all good, but if you want to repay me for getting shot, could you get me a beer or two – to take the pain away?” He asked, sweetly. You smiled, nodding and told him you’d be back soon.

You headed towards the kitchens before coming face to face with Ward, you tried to turn around before he noticed you but he did. “Y/N, how’s your little boyfriend?” He asked, menacingly.

“Better, just grabbing him a beer and then I’ll be heading back, if you’ll excuse me.” You said, moving to get around him but he blocked your exit, “Come on, Ward.”

“I’m about to go on a very important mission and I think I need a little love to get me psyched up.” He manipulated.

You chuckled, “Not happening. Move.”

“Come on, princess.” He said, using a nickname you’d rather forget. “You know you miss me, just tell me those three little words.”

“Go fuck yourself.” You spat, moving to leave but he grabbed your arm. “Get off of me.”

“You don’t understand, baby…”

You cut off his words by kneeing him in the balls and punching him in the face, “No, you don’t understand, I hate you, with every cell in my body because you are a lying jackass who I wish I never met. I am in love with Lance Hunter, one of the best men I know and I would never do anything to sabotage that relationship – not like you did. And I know that it hurts you that someone else makes me happy, someone else gets to love me, and I’m happy that you feel that pain. So, leave me the hell alone because if I ever see your face again, I will make you beg for death.” You threatened before walking back to your boyfriend.

That was the last time you ever saw Grant Ward’s face.

A/N: Hope you enjoy! Follow my instagram @ cxplqnce and I take requests if you have any!

#lance hunter #lance hunter imagine #lance hunter x reader #lance hunter one shot #grant ward #grant ward imagine #grant ward x reader #grant ward one shot #agents of shield #agents of shield imagine

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asteriismos · 4 years

Text

Beautiful - Stanley Uris

Warning(s) : self conscious reader, eighteen! losers club, smut

Authors Note: I did this more of in a third person style, I was reading fics on ao3 and I got inspired and decided to try it out. Is this good? I am not sure

Request :

can you do a smut with Stanley where you're self-conscious about ur body but Stan wants to make you feel better by just praising you and how good you look 🥺🥺 I'm so soft for Stan 🥺🥺

Stanley Uris stood idly against the kitchen counter of Y/N’s home, watching as she cut up a red apple on the cutting board next to him. The window to their left was open, the light it let in illuminated the room with the golden setting sun. It was Saturday, a typical day where the losers would all go to the Quarry to swim or go to one of their houses and just hang around. Summers in Derry were always absolutely gorgeous, the rays of sunlight never let up until around nine at night, and the warm breeze offered solace to the people who were outside. Children rode their bikes all over, much like their group used to do before they grew up and got cars.

After ruining his own Bar Mitzvah a few years prior, his father neglected to give Stanley the money to get his own car. His mother, however adamant, was not able to convince the stern rabbi either, so Stan was one of the only people in the group without a car. Bill was the first one, fixing up a red beamer with his father around sophomore year, and for a while, that was the car Stan would drive around when his best friend let him. The only two other people who didn’t have a car were Eddie ( who’s mother swore would get him into a wreck ) and Beverly ( for obvious reasons surrounding her father’s neglect and abuse ).

He didn’t mind it much, to be honest. Yes, it would be nice to have a car to drive around and get places faster, but at the end of the day, riding his bike and feeling the wind in his hair was good enough for him.

“Here,” Y/N spoke to him, pushing the apple slices she put onto a plate towards him, snapping him out of his thoughts momentarily to look at her and smile as a thank you.

Her hair was in a messy bun on top of her head, some of the tips still wet from the group’s dive into the quarry. They both had come back to her house to hang out before Stan had to go back home for dinner.

Y/N and Stanley have been in a relationship for a few years now, ever since Stanley asked her to homecoming their freshman year of high school. In all honesty, he wasn't going to do it at first, because Stan didn’t want to make things complicated. He had liked Y/N for a long time, ever since Bill Denbrough introduced her to their group because she was in Bill’s biology class. The stuttering boy thought that she would be a good addition to the club, since she had just moved to Derry and didn’t have any friends yet. Bill was always the welcoming type, and she was not just going to turn down the chance of having not just one, but seven new friends. She got really close with Mike despite the fact that he’s homeschooled.

Richie had been the one to dare Stanley to ask her to the dance. Well, it wasn't really a thing that was out of the blue. Stan had made the mistake of talking about it with Richie, and Richie being Richie, he wasn't just going to let it go. He dared Stan to do it, which wasn’t that out of the ordinary because Richie would do this sort of thing all the time to him, tease him for being too chicken to do most things. Come on Stan the man! Grow a pair!

And so he did. It was a little bit awkward considering Y/N was still taller than him in freshman year and he hadn’t quite grown into his lanky body and hadn't figured out how to style his curly hair. And he was stuttering and going over his words so much that you could’ve mistaken him for Bill. She thought that it was cute and sweet, so of course she had said yes.

The rest was history.

As life went on and the kids grew older into mature teenagers, there still wasn't much that had changed with them personality wise. Deep down, all of them felt as if they were those scrawny fourteen year olds that used to ride their bikes around town and throw rocks into the house on neibolt streets windows for fun. The boys eventually grew taller than Y/N and Beverly, much to their dismay of course. Richie’s glasses now fit his face correctly, Bill went to speech therapy and got his stutter corrected, and Eddie didn’t use his inhaler anymore.

They were all grown up.

It was sad to think that in just a month they would be saying bye to Derry, the place that they had grown up in for so many years. Y/N was new, only been here for five, and yet she still felt like she was losing a piece of her. She didn’t want to leave, graduation had been hard enough. The last day of school when the entire senior class were throwing all their papers off the roof of the high school in celebration, the losers instead roamed the halls of the empty school, reminiscing in the memories they had made. The biology classroom Y/N first made friends with Bill, the corner under the stairs where the group would sit during free period and study in silence, the library where each of them have shared a cry in one too many times after a failed quiz or test. It was hard to say goodbye. Each of them had a piece of themselves somewhere in Derry. Even Richie did, even though he insisted that he hated this town.

The group were adamant about hanging out every single day, since it would be their last summer here, even if it wasn't a full one. Everyone tried to stay light and happy, but as the days passed and the weeks started to add up, things were getting more and more solemn.

“Do you think we’re all going to stay friends?” Stanley asked Y/N, biting into an apple slice and looking up at her. “Like when we’re in college?”

It wasn’t the first time that he’d asked such a thing, just this time it was only to her. He had asked it that summer with Pennywise, in the club house with all of his friends except for Y/N. She came the school year right after that summer, meaning she didn't have to experience any of the horrors that came with that summer that still haunted Stan to this day. All of them said that they would stay friends no matter what and he wanted to believe that so badly, but he couldn’t help but think about the fact that they were all going to such different places, would they stay friends?

Y/N didn’t quite know how to answer his question. Stanley always managed to ask her questions she had to think about thoroughly, he seemed to always have some sort of wandering mind filled with thoughts beyond his capability of even answering himself. He was in the smart classes in school and wanted to go to college for math and psychology, which sounded typical for Stan, two polar opposite things that he has somehow brought into one. She answered after a passing minute.

“I’d like to think that we all would.”

It wasn't exactly the answer that he was looking for, but then again, he wasn't sure what he would've liked to hear. Stan understood the uncertainty in her voice. The future was unknown to all of them, and the unknown was scary.

The boy nodded, curls falling into his face. He brushed them away, glancing over at the time on the clock programmed onto her kitchen stove. It was almost five, he would need to get going soon, no matter how much he didn’t want to. He wanted to keep spending all the time he could with Y/N, hell, he wanted to spend his entire life with her. It was no secret that Stanley was absolutely, disastrously in love with Y/N, everyone knew. Even if you didn't explicitly know that they were in a relationship, just the way that he looked at her would be a dead giveaway. He looked at her like she was the one who controlled the sun and the stars, spinning his entire world around and around into one web filled with love. He would walk to the end of the world for her if she wanted to do. And she felt the same way about him, if not even more. She would lose herself to him.

He turned towards her and extended his arms outward, pulling her into his embrace. They sat there together like this for a while, listening to each others steady breathing and relishing in the idea of each other. Stanley couldnt help but marvel at her beauty, his eyes flicking down to stare that the part of her face he could see from the position they were in. As strands of hair fell from outside the bun and onto her face, tickling he forehead softly. Her eyelashes, which batted every time she blinked, were so long that he thought of them as flower petals upon her face.

She didn’t know how beautiful he thought she was. He knew that for certain. Every time he would mention something about her appearance she would blush and tell him that she wasn't that attractive. And it tore Stanley Uris to pieces, seeing her beat herself up about the fact that she didn’t look like the other girls that have been propped up as what a beautiful woman had to look like. No matter how many times he would hold her by the face and repeat you are beautiful over and over again, she still would have doubts. Stanley wanted to show her how beautiful she truly was, to make her feel all the love that he had for her.

His hands came to her hips and spun her around so they were looking at each other. Her warm eyes peered into his own, feigning a soft smile and giggling at the sudden action. She wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling his soft hair on her fingertips, playing with a few of the strands. She did really love his hair, and in the light of the dropping sun, the brown curly strands almost appeared to be golden. The freckles that peppered his face here and there moved with his own smile. That sight alone was breathtaking for the young girl, making her heart almost melt on the spot.

Stanley raised an eyebrow almost as a question, his face leaning towards hers. She raised herself up on her tip toes and attached their lips together, closing the gap between both of them as their arms brought each other closer and closer. It was easy to get lost in the moment for each of them, the intoxication of love is enough to make them play into their infatuations with each other. The kiss was small, pulling away after a few seconds. They stayed close, feeling each other’s hot breath on their faces. Stanley’s eyes flicked down to her lips back to her eyes. “You’re gorgeous,” He whispered to her, his grip tightening ever so slightly on her hips.

And then there was that look again on her face, the same one that she made every single time he complimented her. It wasn’t of offense, she thought that it was so sweet that he used words like this, it was just that she didn’t feel the same way about herself. Y/N didn’t think that she was the most beautiful in Derry, there were many other better, more beautiful women here. And yet Stanley Uris picked her. She was flattered, though it never stopped the insecure thoughts she had.

“Thank you, Stan but-”

“Don’t deny it,” Stanley interjected her, pulling his hand up and putting it across her mouth. Her eyes widened, breathing getting heavier. Her heart started to beat in her chest rapidly, feeling a blush coming up to her cheeks. “You’re way to hard on yourself, Y/N.” Stan kissed her reddening cheeks, then removed his hand and kissed her lips. This kiss was different from the previous one. This one was more passionate and feverish, which is when she realized what would probably occur if they kept kissing this way.

They’ve had sex before, a few times actually, starting around junior year last year. With both of them being virgins, they lost their virginities to each other over winter break when they were opening up presents together. Even though his family didn’t celebrate Christmas, he still insisted on giving his friends gifts, and then an extra special one for Y/N. It was a necklace that had their initials engraved on the back of it, and she knew that it must’ve cost a fortune. How did you even get this? There’s no jewelry stores in Derry? She had asked him. I went with Bill to the next town over a week ago. He replied. Y/N had yet to take it off. One thing led to each other and they were all over each other.

His lips left her own and began to trail down her neck, stopping every once a while to bite on the extra sensitive spots he knew she had. A soft mewling noise left her mouth, her eyes closing and leaning into his touch. The noises she made during their intimate affairs never failed to turn Stanley on, no matter how slight they were. Just the fact that he was the one making her that way was enough to get the dirty fantasies starting in his head.

Stanley allowed his hands to fall down her sides, fingers fiddling with the edge of the t shirt she wore. His fingertips grazed the soft skin underneath for just a second and her breath hitched in her throat, her hand reaching for his head and pulling him up so he was once again looking at her in the eyes. Her lips parted, asking, “Aren’t you supposed to be getting home soon?” She wasn't look for an excuse not to have sex, she wouldn’t ever pass up the opportunity, but Y/N didn’t want Mrs. Uris to worry about her son who was supposed to come home soon.

“I’ll be okay. I just want to make you feel good,” Stan whispered, his head ducking down and kissing her neck again. Y/N allowed herself to relax into his touch, feeling the tension in her shoulders begin to dissipate with every kiss, nibble, and lick he put on her skin. The shirt that he had once been playing with was now off of her revealing her bare chest, dropping to the floor. They went back to kissing again, Stanley’s arms held her up by her thighs and helped her to sit on the counter. Her legs wrapped around his waist and his shirt was thrown off as well.

He pulled for a moment and admired her, seeing the slight red marks he made on her skin, wanting - no, craving to make more on her bare breasts. And he did just that, kissing the dip in between her breasts and using one of his hands to play with one of them. His touches were so gentle, like he planned each and every single one with expertise to get just the right reaction out of her. It wasn’t the first time that he had seen her, all of her, before but it felt that way each time. He would never be able to explain in words the feeling he got when she was exposed to him.

She was trying her best to kick off her jean shorts, pulling down the zipper herself while he continued kissing her body. Sliding them down her legs and kicking them away, Stan put his hand once again on her waist. He swears that he could compare her body to the ancient statues of goddesses in Greece, the curves and dips resembled chiseled stone, almost taking his breath away. “You’re so beautiful, baby,” he muttered, his lips kissing along her chest and stomach, not missing an inch of skin with his lips.

They didn’t have much time, considering his need to get home, so he was quick to slide his hand into her underwear, his thumb brushing over where she needed him most. Her hips bucked into his hand, her hands pulling on his hair, his name falling out of her lips like a mantra. The way that she wanted him was something she has never felt with another person, Stanley was able to always take her to that state of arousal she couldn't achieve with herself. Two of his fingers finally slipped into her, curling slightly as they pumped in and out at an agonizingly slow pace.

Y/N thought that if he went any slower she would die, but she knew that he was simply doing this to get a rouse out of her. Which was the truth, Stanley liked to tease her sometimes. Her hand came down and wrapped around his wrist, trying her best to get him to go faster. Stan couldn’t help but chuckle out, his lips coming up to meet hers again.

The newly established pace along with his thumb still pressing on her bundle of nerves was already making her get closer and closer to her releasing. She was slightly sheepish at how easy he was making her come undone, but it just added onto the charm that Stanley had. He could be terribly sweet and incredibly sexy at the same time. And she knew that if he kept doing this that she would reach her high before she wanted to, she wanted to orgasm when he was inside her.

“Stanley, I want you inside me now,” Y/N was able to make out, his hand immediately stopping and pulling away from her. She didn't have to open her eyes to know that he was pulling off his jeans and boxers as fast as humanly possible, her own hands pushed down her soaking underwear.

He pressed himself against her, his tip already slick with her arousal. “You’re so wet for me,” He muttered. “So ready.”

And then he slid inside her, both of their moans filling up the entire room. His hips jerked up, a large smack was heard as their hips hit together. Y/N tried to adjust as best as she could as he started his pace slow. Her hands reached for his face and kissed him, moaning into his mouth whenever he buried himself inside of her. The pace quickened, their skin glistening with sweat. Y/N looked so natural and beautiful that he couldn’t control the groans that left his mouth. His hand reached down in between them and started playing with her clit, her moans getting higher and more frequent. He could get off of her moans just as they were, he was sure of that. They sounded borderline pornographic, perfect coming from her pretty pink lips.

“You take me so well, princess.”

Y/N spread her legs even wider than previously, feeling him be able to get even deeper inside of her. The constant hitting of that one spot in her making her go crazy with lust. She couldn’t think, hell, she didn’t know if she was even breathing anymore. The only thing in her mind was Stanley’s name, repeating like it was the only thing that she could say or think.

Stan himself was starting to feel his high form, the constant moaning from her in his ear along with how tight she is was making him get closer and closer. He could tell that Y/N was almost there as well, her head was thrown back in pure ecstasy from the pleasure that he was receiving. So he put his lips to her ear, and whispered in probably the deepest, most lustful voice that she thinks she’s ever heard before, “Come for me.”

That was enough to do it, and soon enough Y/N was coming undone right on top of her kitchen counter. His pace didn’t stop, it was relentless as he tried to chase after his high, finally achieving it with her. They road it out together, their moans synching together like they were one. His hips began to falter, becoming more erratic until he stopped, stilling inside her and keeping his gaze on the beautiful woman in front of him.

And Y/N could see it, the way that he looked at her. He could see the love that he harbored for her as if he was waving a sign. “I love you, Stanley,” She told him.

“I love you too, Y/N,” He said, pulling out of her and kissing her softly. “And you are the most gorgeous person I’ve ever met in my entire life, don’t ever forget that, please.”

Y/N knew that she wouldn't.

#stanley uris #stanley uris x reader #stanley uris imagine #stanley uris smut #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #bill denbrough #beverly marsh #mike hanlon #ben hanscom #IT movie #it movie imagine #it movie 2017 #it movie x reader #it movie 2019

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urdearestmom · 3 years

Text

brain damage

i’m back again y’all and just wrote this piece... a bit of a scene study from that scene in 3x06. basically what i wish mike had said

also the middle part is mostly conjecture but some of it is bits that you can hear in the actual scene if you strain your ears and ignore nancy and jonathan talking over it

also DISCLAIMER i do not hate max!! i really like her actually but she was really pissing me off with this whole bit because she just does not have any basis for understanding mileven's relationship and so her advice doesn't always directly apply. she had good intentions but BRUH. anyways i could go on a whole rant about max vs mike in season 3 but i'm not gonna do that right now lmao

It’s pretty silent in here, El thinks. It always is, but tonight it’s… strange. Almost as though it’s empty. Why can’t she find them? She’s been sitting in her room for the last half hour trying to locate any of the flayed and although she can’t see it, she knows there’s a growing mountain of bloody tissues next to her on the floor. She’s starting to think that she might need to give herself a break for a little bit.

Her friends are in the living room waiting for her, and she knows they’re all anxious to find out what she might see. So far, absolutely nothing. The only thing that happens is that every so often she hears a bit of a voice. It’s just there, tickling the edges of her consciousness, and she could tune into it if she wanted to… but she’s already identified it by the cadence of the noise as Mike’s voice, and she’d said she wouldn’t spy on him. She’d done it once and he was clearly upset by it. Although they aren’t really back to how they were before, El misses him more than she lets on, and she doesn’t want to make things worse by spying again.

Outside, Mike is getting close to yelling. He sincerely hopes El can’t hear him because he is once again fighting with her new best friend.

“It can’t be good for her to be in there for this long,” he exclaims, pacing in front of her door.

“Mike, you need to relax,” says Max, looking disdainfully at him.

“What if she gets brain damage or something?!”

“Oh shit,” interrupts Lucas, looking between them. “Is that like, a real thing?”

Max scoffs. “No, it’s not. He made it up. Mike doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about,” she adds, raising her eyebrows defiantly as if daring him to refute her.

“Oh, and you do?! ” He retorts. Her facial expression alone is pissing him off. It’s so self-righteous, as if she knows anything at all about him or how he thinks and feels.

“No,” she says quickly. “But I think El does. See, that’s the difference between you and me. You think you know everything!”

“I don’t know everything,” he fires back. His hands are balled into fists and he’s starting to shake. “But I know her.”

Max snorts. “You’re just mad she wants to be her own person. You can’t deal with other people not doing what you tell them to.”

“What do you think this is, Russia? I’m not some dictator, okay? I’m just trying to protect El!” He says angrily. This is getting more and more ridiculous by the second. Max doesn’t know the first thing about what he can or can’t deal with and acting like she does is striking his last nerve. Mike can feel the familiar boil of rage deep within him coming to a rise.

“The only person who knows anything about El’s powers is El,” says Max, with an air of finality.

Mike crosses his arms in an attempt to get himself in control of his emotions. “So if that’s true, what makes you think you have any more of a say than I do?”

She splutters for a moment and it’s so satisfying that Mike almost smirks, but it drops quickly when Max rises from her seat and stalks over to him.

“I don’t,” she seethes, poking him forcefully in the chest. “But she does, and you need to back off .”

“I’m not even on! ” He yells, throwing his arms up and pushing her away. He realizes his statement doesn’t actually make any sense but… whatever. At this point, it’s not like it matters. “She won’t listen to me! Because you put ideas in her head! You know she absorbs every new thing people tell her and you pressured her into dumping me!”

There it is. It’s out. It’s what he’s been thinking since it happened. He knew he’d messed up big-time by lying to El, but he never would have expected her to dump him over it. And the look on Max’s face as she stood by and watched had said everything he needed to know.

Max’s face is turning an alarming shade of pink and Mike thinks that he probably matches her. “I didn’t pressure her into anything, she decided! What is your problem with letting El decide things for herself?!”

“I don’t have a problem! At least I didn’t before you inserted yourself where you didn’t need to be!”

“All I did was give her choices!”

Mike takes a deep breath to retaliate, but then lets it go and turns away. “You don’t understand. Just- fucking leave me alone.”

Lucas is still staring at them; Mike can feel his friend’s eyes on his back. Why isn’t he agreeing? He was there when El- he knows what she can push herself to.

Max makes an angry noise. “Fine! It’s not my fault you can’t be wrong!” She walks toward Nancy and Jonathan and Mike follows, preparing to convince everyone else that this is a stupid idea. “Okay, can you guys settle an argument for us?”

Nancy looks hard at them, her eyes searching Mike quickly before flicking back to the girl next to him.

“Who do you think should decide El’s limits… Mike, or Eleven?”

He sees red. “The way that you framed that is such bullshit. ” Why is he the villain here?!

Her braids whip around her face as she turns to him. “It’s not bullshit, Mike, this is your whole problem! And it’s also precisely the reason why she dumped your ass!”

“El dumped you?” Nancy asks incredulously.

Mike throws his arms up again. “Yeah, because she’s conspiring against me! She’s corrupting her!”

“N- enlightening her!” Max throws back. “The fact is, she’s not yours. She’s her own person, fully capable of making her own decisions.”

“She’s risking her life for no reason!” He shouts.

“No reason?” Says Nancy. “Mike, the flayed are out there doing god knows what-”

“Killing, flaying,” interjects Lucas.

“Transforming into monsters,” adds Will.

Mike glares at them. Not helping.

“And El’s not stupid,” Nancy continues, shaking her head. “She knows her abilities better than any of us.”

“Exactly, thank you,” Max says victoriously. Mike closes his eyes. He cannot believe this is how this is going.

“And she is her own person-”

“Exactly!”

“With her own free will-”

“Exactly! El has saved the world twice and Mike still doesn’t trust her-”

At that he has to interrupt. There’s no way he’s letting Max flip this around. “You wanna talk about trust, really? After you made Eleven spy on us?!”

Max looks down, giving herself away.

Lucas stands up behind him. “Wait, what?”

Mike whirls to face him. “Oh, she didn’t tell you this?” He says sarcastically.

“No!”

“Your girlfriend used El’s powers to spy on us ,” he spits.

“No, no, no,” Max interjects. “I did not make her, it was her idea. And why are we even talking about this, seriously?”

“Yeah,” says Will. “Who cares?”

And now Mike’s annoyed at Will too. Will has no idea what is going on in Mike’s head and he’s not ever going to understand why he feels the way he does. Just the same as the rest of the Party will never really relate to Will’s struggles because they weren’t there, Will wasn’t there for theirs either. He didn’t see what she did-

“I care!” Says Lucas, and finally Mike is glad someone seems to be on his side. Thank God for small blessings.

“Yeah, I guess girlfriends don’t lie, they spy,” he says, turning back to Max at the last moment so she can truly see his ire.

“We were just joking around,” she defends.

“Would it have been so funny if I was taking a massive shit or something?” He asks.

She wrinkles her nose. “You weren’t!”

“But what if I was?!”

“Then gross!”

“Seriously, Mike?” Interrupts Nancy, and all of a sudden this has become like one of those moments where he just wants to strangle her for talking before he’s done. She does it all the fucking time and like, he guesses it’s probably part of being siblings but it leaves him fuming more often than not.

“I’m just trying to demonstrate how careless Max is with Eleven’s powers,” he says carefully. This is where he needs to get his point across. He desperately needs someone to understand that he’s not trying to be controlling or police what El does or doesn’t do, he’s just trying to save her from herself. He couldn’t do it the first time, but by God if he isn’t going to try now.

“Have any of you noticed Lucas is the only one not disagreeing with me?” He asks.

Max huffs. “Lucas doesn’t have anything to do with this. This is your prob-”

“Lucas has everything to do with this!” He roars. Mike has absolutely had it up to here with her and turns on her a final time, shaking again. “You weren’t there, Max! None of you were. Except Lucas. You don’t know what she’ll do..” His voice trembles.

Lucas seems to understand what he’s getting at and lays a hand on his shoulder. Mike flashes him a grateful look. He still has a hard time thinking about that night, much less talking about it. “She vaporized herself in front of us. I tried to stop her and she did it anyway.”

The room is silent now, the only sound being the TV static from El’s bedroom where she’s still holed up. Mike takes a breath.

“It’s not that I think El doesn’t know her limits,” he says. “I just know that she doesn’t care about them. She’ll die overexerting herself before she lets something hurt one of us.”

He looks up at everyone, Jonathan and Will looking oddly similarly out of place and Nancy with her eyes trained on his face as she listens. Max isn’t looking at him. Good , he thinks. Maybe that made her feel guilty.

“How would you feel if you knew firsthand El didn’t care about dying to save her friends, huh? Wouldn’t you be worried about her?” He directs this at Max specifically, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “You guys are treating her like some kind of machine, and she’s not a machine. I still have nightmares about that day all the time.”

The room stays silent, almost as though everyone is holding a breath and waiting for him to start yelling again, but he’s not going to. He doesn’t have any energy left to expound on this topic. If Max wants to keep making him the bad guy, then whatever. He has more important things to worry about.

“I just-” He starts and stops, wondering if this is the right thing to say. “I don’t want her to die looking for the flayed when they’ve obviously vanished off the face of the Earth, so we can we please just come up with another plan because I love her and I can’t lose her again.”

Now it’s almost as though all the air has actually been sucked out of the room. Maybe this wasn’t the right time to reveal the depth of his feelings, but Mike really didn’t know what else he could say that could possibly make them understand his position. Lucas’ hand on his shoulder squeezes for a quick second and then lightly taps him as Lucas moves his arm back.

Nancy shakes her head. “I get that you don’t want her to hurt herself, Mike, but she’s already in there. There’s not much else we can do.”

“What’s going on?”

Everyone whips around to face El coming out of her bedroom doorway. Holy shit, did she hear what he said? Holyshitholyshitholyshitholyshit-

“Nothing. Nothing!” He says quickly.

“Just… family discussion,” adds Lucas from behind him. Mike can feel the smirk in his voice without even having to look at him.

“Oh,” says El, and suddenly Mike really wants to hug her. But this isn’t the time. He looks away.

“I found him,” she continues.

“Found… who?” Nancy asks.

“Billy.”

#stranger things #stranger things 3 #stranger things fanfiction #urdearestmom #brain damage #reimagined #3x06 #mileven #mike wheeler

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lucarioisinthevoid · 3 years

Note

Twitch Streamer AU???

(I planned on pushing out a FEW AU asks, but then realized I don’t even have so many. There’s going to be a FNAC event, but that will be an event, not a specific AU ask, so- I guess this is it! Very cursed AU, thank you very much Anon Small warning for mentions of blood, I think? Nothing too bad.)

Streamers, youtubers, content creators. Some people are all of these, some people are none, and some are just one- because each of them needed a very different talent. Those who could do seemingly everything were few and far between- And they ruled the entertainment scene! Thankfully though, the main three as most called them, were also always out for new content to watch. Thus they boosted those that they saw potential in. With some taking the boost and then going off to do their own thing- And some becoming good friends. It always started with a letter. Mike had the habit to do things on stream, as long as no personal details were not visible on them. He used a false email which he regularly changed, and he generally kept himself as safe as possible. Opening emails on stream could be rather fun, even if it was a risk. Sometimes it encouraged people to send bad things- So to prevent the worst, nothing would be downloaded and all emails containing images would be put into the spam bin. Better safe than sorry, the internet was full of terrible people. This day so far had been successful. And by successful it meant that Mike was SCREAMING. “I HATE SUPER MEAT BOY. I WILL COMMIT VIOLENCE AGAINST MEAT IN A MINUTE. I HAVE A BIG F-CKING STEAK IN THE KITCHEN, AND I WILL THROW IT AGAINST THE F_CKING WALL. I WILL GET A HAMMER.” The chat was going wild, cheering. The chat’s phrase of today was “tender Mikey” and it didn’t help at all. “I DID. NOT. HIT THAT! I DID NOT!” A donation popped up, with a robotic voice. ‘Oh hai Mark!’ “NOT FUNNY! NOT F-CKING FUNNY. I’M SUFFERING HERE AND ALL OF YOU SUPPORT IT. YOU’RE ALL F-CKING MONSTERS HERE, I HOPE YOU KNOW THAT. AND I’M NOT F-CKING TENDERIZING THE MEAT WHEN I SLAP IT AROUND, I’LL RIP IT INTO PIECES AND CONSUME IT RAW!” Standing up, he genuinely went to get it- And fifteen minute later he had slightly calmed down, his hands and room slightly bloody. The chat was still celebrating and donating- another thing that never failed to make Mike BEG them to stop and use the money for something GOOD and SENSIBLE, LIKE THEM-FUCKING-SELF- but he had gotten out most of the energy. “Alright. Alright everyone. ENOUGH. I gotta stop you HERE. It’s email time.” A celebratory jingle played, as Mike booted up the website, opening the inbox. Memes, storytime, I’m-not-fucking-reading-that-and-you-know-it, and- One of the emails caught his- and the chat’s- attention, however. Sender: Fazbear Entertainment Topic: Challenge Needless to say- once again the chat was out of control and this time there was NOTHING Mike could do to stop them. After opening the email, Mike slowly took a deep breath and looked into the camera, between concerned and honored- But that wouldn’t be enough to rip him from his carefully maintained persona. So he audible scoffed- albeit him being unable to hide an excited grin. “Alright bitches and bastards in the audience- we’re firing SuperMeatBoy up again. You won’t be catching ME losing to a pink son of a bitch anytime soon!” After the letter- provided it was accepted and responded to, the production happened. The deal was that a teaser was dropped on the big channel- The entire video itself was put on the smaller one, attracting the viewers over and hopefully make them more likely to want to see the other works the creator had put out. It was a win-win overall, the big channel being able to vary their content, testing the water for new things- and the smaller channel getting a boost and a lot of tips from very experienced creators. Henry and Dave were very generous people. Jeremy was sitting there, taking deep breaths, trying to stay calm. So far, everyone seemed to be rather kind, even if Jeremy was basically a complete nobody. Hell, he never wanted to be anybody. He just wanted to stream himself baking, for those who never had someone baking with them. Because baking could feel stressful, especially when you were missing ingredients or- many reasons, actually. Not only baking, but cooking too- Sometimes playing games on request, but not much in terms of requests ever came in. And now he was here in an actual studio, soon to be seen by an insane amount of people. A cooking competition. Sounded silly- you couldn’t really FIGHT in something like that… But… Henry and Dave had promised it would be fun. And they were nice. With and without the cameras rolling. Speaking off- There they were, approaching, their assistant coming along. He wore a weird phone-head, to ensure his privacy. Or something. It was kinda weird, but he had just accepted the answer he got. “Why, there you are, Jeremy! Would you like to see the equipment we have prepared?” Henry warmly asked, reaching down with his hand to help his guest stand up. “We have gotten a few extra things, just in case.” As they entered the studio, Jeremy’s invisible eyes went WIDE. “Woah- that looks really nice! I love it here! This is high quality stuff-!” “Fantastic!” Pleased Henry opened his arms in his typical theatrical manner- Before being abruptly interrupted by Dave jumping in, halfway over Henry’s shoulder. “ARE YA READY TO GO!? CAMERAS ARE READY!” “Ah- I- I guess- but-“ “YOU HEARD HIM, BOYS! GET IT ROLLIN’!” “W-wait, I don’t even have-“ “Everyone! Welcome to NOTHIN’ AT ALL!” Henry swiftly fitted in, continuing on with the intro. “Todays challenger is the man, the legend, the baker and occasional chef- Jeremy from Baking With Jeremy!” “Wait, what- that’s seriously your channel name, pal?” A bit offended Jeremy looked into the eyes of the people behind the camera. “U-uh- you guys here- I mean- he has literally called his channel Henry Miller! I- uhm- I-“ Snickering Henry put a hand on his guest’s shoulder. “You are very right about that. Say, are you nervous about losing?” “… n-no. I mean- maybe a little. This place here is big and very professional and I’m not used to many people looking at me…” Taking a deep breath, he gave off a nervous smile for the audience. “… yet, I know- it’s a good thing! And as long as everyone has fun, everything will work out!” “Awwwww, look at him!” Dave said, pleased. “You’re so right! We’ll be havin’ fun!” “But also, I will win.” Henry pointed out. “That is when I have the most fun.” Slightly playful Jeremy smiled. “K-keep that attitude, that will make it even easier to blindside you!” Simon whistled, clearly bemused as he held the camera in place- And Henry smirked. “Sure. Anyhow, the stakes are-“ “Steaks? We’re makin’ steaks? I thought we planned on-“ “Dave. I swear to god.” Henry looked at him from the side, before shaking his head. “What is on the line is easy to see- we have roughly an hour to cook the best meal. If Jeremy wins, we will donate 5000 to a charity of his choice!” “And if the young pal loses, he’ll be joinin’ our channel!” Dave chirped. This was news to the brown-haired boy. “W-wait, we never agreed to that-“ “GET TO YOUR STATIONS!” Someone in the back announced. “WHO’S TODAYS FAVORITE?” Simon checked the stream. “The chat says Jeremy is a clear winner. Nobody trusts Henry to keep his two braincells together for long enough to not forget the salt or something.” “Excuse?!” Not only Henry was APPALLED by the chat, Dave joined right in. “Ya guys have NO taste. I’ll be clearly winnin’… but hey, maybe ya peeps don’t know that I plan to cheat!” Surprised Jerry looked over to Dave’s cooking station. “How… how can you cheat at cooking-“ Before he could finish his sentence, he shrieked as Dave pulled out a flamethrower. “HELL YEAH BABY, I AIN’T WAITING 30 MINUTES FOR SOMETHING TO COOK IN THE OVEN, I’LL BE DONE IN FIFTEEN MINUTES MAX!” “W-WAIT THAT DOESN’T SEEM SAVE-“ Henry just raised his hands, cheerful. “Ready… set…” The Phone Guy made eye- well, rotary- contact with Jeremy, slightly raising a fire extinguisher that was by his side. … alright, it seemed the people here were well-prepared for this scenario. So instead he focused on the ingredients in front of him. Almost manic, Henry’s voice rang. “GO!” And… … that was it! Some joined, with amazing results- Mike rubbed his face. “Who thought that was a great idea. I fucking hate this.” Dave next to him on the couch just grinned. “It’s amazin’ what these websites all offer to sell. You won’t be BELIEVIN’ what’s in this box!” “I’M NOT OPENING IT.” “YOU WILL. OTHERWISE IT’LL HUNT YOUR DREAMS. I’LL PUT THIS BOX NEXT TO YOUR BED. YOUR TOILET. ONTO YOUR DINNER TABLE. INTO THE FRIDGE. I’LL ORDER MORE OF THESE BOXES.” “Jesus CHRIST, calm DOWN-“ “I WILL FIGHT YA TO THE DEATH OLD PAL-“ - and some people just went back to the usual pattern, with the occasional raid from Fazbear Entertainment. They asked first, of course. Each of them fulfilled their own niche, each of them had caught Henry’s and Dave’s attention in one way or another. Henry and Dave however- Well, Dave was the varied creator. Henry liked his niche. He played horror, investigated ARGs, read stories about real and fictional crimes against humanity. The world was a terrible place, wasn’t it? Yet he reveled in it. Aside from that he showed extra effects, he built machines and thought everyone one or another thing about creating special effects at home. From dry ice to genuinely ridiculous chain-reactions, Henry showed them it all. Blood too, multiple forms of it, depending on how and where it would be used. Sometimes breaking it off with more light-hearted one-off games and listening to what his community wanted to see… but the most comfortable he was with horror and analysis. He was a youtuber, a streamer, a content creator… … and one thing more. It wasn’t easy to find the code. But his intended audience were a very small amount of people. A small number of strangers. There was no way to know if anyone ever made it to more than one show, but Henry did not care. It wasn’t for them that he did this. Him and William moved down, down below the set, into the lowest regions of the house. The workshop. Nobody really question why you added what to your home if you were a creative person. Even less so if you were a famous, eccentric creator. Yes, the free reign was what he REALLY loved about his job. Maybe he should build his studio somewhere else- But like this it was so much more thrilling! Wordlessly both of them put on their suits. It would hide their identity perfectly- especially the animal heads that contorted their voices a bit. Enough. Today’s participant wore a mask too- another phone head, differently made, different style, but to hide their identity too. However, the voice was in no way muffled. Panicked the person dragged on the chains keeping them attached to the chair. “H-HELLO!? HELLO!? S-SOMEONE- IS SOMEONE HERE!?” A noisy one! Delightful! Both Fredbear and Springbonnie stepped out of the shadows, one form each side. While Springbonnie put his hands gently on the shoulders of the whimpering person, Fredbear stepped in front of the camera, bowing. “Ladies and gentlemen-“ The low voice sounded more like the one of an animal than from a person. Yet it was smooth and comforting. “- I welcome you to yet another installment of our show. I am Fredbear, and over there is my wonderful assistant, Springbonnie. Today we have brought a simple stranger, a nobody who might not even be missed. Thusly I encourage you to truly be creative with your ideas. And while your votes roll in, maybe I point out that next time we will have another little game-show, with quite the effects. We might even get a real bull! You will not want to miss it.” The board above the camera blinked up, as a bitter fight of votes started, everyone wanting to see something else. Three tiers to vote on! Foreplay (light injuries), main course (heavy injury leading to death) and of course what to do with the body. Below it was a little measure for “face reveal”. Some of their viewers really enjoyed seeing the expressions during and after. It came with a risk to Fredbear and Springbonnie, as the victim being recognizable meant their general area of activity was more obvious- thus it was incredibly expensive. They knew there was every now and again law enforcement mixed up between the genuine watchers. It was thrilling too- Yet Fredbear wanted to keep this game alive as long as he could. Thus it was important to hide what they could. Fredbear was a creator first and foremost, an entertainer second- And there was nothing that attracted an HONEST, an UNRESTRAINED, a PURE audience quite like violence. Once blood spilled, humans degraded and it was wonderful. Behind him, the victim began rattling even more erratic. “WHAT- WHAT IS THIS?! LET ME OUT- PLEASE- LET ME OUT- PLEASE- I- DIDN’T DO ANYTHING-“ Burying his hands into the shoulders of Springbonnie downright cackled, enjoying the mania that always accumulated in these situation. “Be still, new friend! The audience HATES too much whining, y’know? And at least you could die with your tongue still intact, wouldn’t that be nicer than having to swallow the thing? Once it almost killed someone, boy, that sure was a bother!” His voice was changed to a cartoonish, upbeat pitch- “While the votes come in, how about we quiz today’s friend… maybe if you are smart enough, they will want you to live! It happened before… o n c e.” Fredbear took out a long scalpel, the face a morbid grimace. “Surprise us!”

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ticklishraspberries · 4 years

Text

A Day (Or Six) in the Life

Note: This is from Richie’s POV sorta, so fair warning, there is some vulgar language from time to time. Hope you like it!

Sometimes there’s just too much shit going on in Richie’s head.

And like, don’t get him wrong – he loves the weird crap his brain comes up with. Makes things entertaining, a little spicy, a little zesty. The only problem with it is that he can’t find the damn remote that turns off the six different brands of Looney Tunes going on up there.

(He’d once spent an entire lecture assigning different Voices to the markers his professor used on the whiteboard, to the point that he hadn’t retained a single iota of anything the man actually wrote down.)

Man, that red little minx was pretty sexy though.

He snorts to himself as he comes out of his dozing, shoved back into the real world for the present. He can feel the hot line of Eddie at his back, leg hooked over his hip like a seat belt. His lil jet pack.

Richie reaches blindly for his glasses and pushes them onto his nose, sniffling. It’s still fairly early by his standards, but he doesn’t glance long enough at the digital clock to tell for sure, choosing instead to take one of Eddie’s hand and squeeze like it’s his own personal communications device. “Ground control to major Eds, come in, major Eds?”

No response.

Richie huffs, squeezes harder. “Psht. Major Eds? What’s your mission status, major?”

Maybe Eddie understands what he’s saying, maybe he doesn’t, but Richie receives a huff of hot breath at the back of his neck for his efforts, followed by what feels like a cheek smushed against his head. “S’too early, Rich.”

Flabbergasted, Richie turns over completely to grip a disgruntled, squinting Eddie by the front of his sleep shirt. “It’s never too early in outer space, Eds! Did the academy teach you nothing? I’m ashamed.”

And Richie doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to seeing Eddie so ruffled in the morning. Slow, blinking away sleep from his eyes with those impossibly long lashes, yawning around perfectly white teeth that look like little moon rocks, and - and it definitely seems like there’s a theme going on in his head today, doesn’t it?

“What are you even talking about?” The question sounds irritated, but that’s never stopped Richie before. If anything, it means that he has to go and run his mouth harder, because that’s his default reaction to any indication that someone might be upset with him.

(Except they both know that if Eddie really felt like it, he could just pick up his hot little self and go back to his own bed across the room. Hasn’t happened yet, so. Free game.)

“What am I -? I’m talking about the great race, major!” He pokes Eddie’s side, smiling knowingly at the resulting yip and defensive curl. “Space ain’t some pre teen with a secret collection of skin mags, babe-be, it’s not gonna explore itself.”

Eddie wrinkles his nose but can’t bury his smile in his pillow fast enough for Richie to miss it, sighing a long-suffering breath. “You’re so gross.”

“I try.”

“Where am I going, anyway?”

“Hm?” Richie kinda shifted out of the moment there, it’s gonna take him a second to catch up.

“You know,” Eddie yawns again, gesturing to the ceiling with a limp hand. “Space. Tell me where I’m going.”

“Oh, yeah. Uncharted territory, actually. Forgot to mention that.”

“Mmm…”

A moment of silence passes between them, which is really fortunate for Eddie because it gives Richie an opening for just about the best joke ever.

Gathering him in his arms slowly, he kisses his cheek, nuzzles up to him, and whispers, “To infinity… and your mom!”

Eddie, who had resettled peacefully in the crook of Richie’s arm, stiffens instantly and snaps one angry eye open to glare at him something fierce. Before Richie even so much as smirks, he finds himself pushed down into the squeaky mattress, two hands digging into any spot they can reach.

“Wait- W-wait!” Richie tumbles back with the force of it so hard he thinks he might get whiplash, but it doesn’t matter because he’s laughing around his next breath, tilting his head back and squeezing his eyes shut.

Eddie’s like a freight train when it comes to this, hands jumping from sides to ribs to neck to armpits to stomach - it’s all Richie can do to hold on to his wrists, tickle-weak and letting it happen.

“Yeah, laugh it up, Trash mouth.” Eds hisses, though Richie can see through a few tears that he’s grinning, biting at his tongue in concentration. Richie loves it, loves how Eddie can just reach into his head and jumble his brain until his thoughts whirl around like confetti in a snow globe.

At any rate, those insistent little fingers wring every last one of them out of him by the time he stops, looking down at Richie’s flushed excuse for a face and beaming like he won a prize. Always a competition with him, hoo-wee. “You done yet?”

Richie blinks, drudging through the mud pile that is his brain for a witty retort. “Uh… I…”

Eddie leans down and kisses his nose. “Good. Let’s go get breakfast, I’m starving.”

——————————

“Oh. My. Fuck.” Richie pulls off his hat and tosses it aside the moment he’s through the door. He stops only to kick off his shoes, one landing near the rack and the other hitting the wall. He doesn’t care, though, limping into the living room. After an eight hour shift, he has no fucking business being vertical and wants no part of it, no sir.

He collapses face first into the cushions of their couch and breathes in. It smells like Bill’s cologne. Richie’s back fucking hurts.

“Owchie mama, that’s sore.” He complains out loud as he stretches to the full length of his gangly limbs, feet nudging the arm of the couch. He doesn’t expect his legs to get lifted up though, hello?

“What’s sore?” A voice asks curiously as the couch dips under his weight, Richie’s legs falling back down across a certain someone’s lap.

Mike. A godsend, for sure. “Oh Micycle, is it really you? It’s been decades since I’ve heard that macho voice, I almost forgot what it sounds like.”

“It’s nice to see you too, Rich. How was work?”

How was work? How was work?? Richie’s gonna combust, but he’s too tired to go all out, so he settles for a small tantrum, flailing. “Never mention that word to me again. If you do, we’ll have to get a divorce, and then who would look after the children? The traumatized little lads, fuck.”

“That bad, huh?” Mike chuckles, and it’s deep and fond and warm, and Richie looks over his shoulder just so he can picture it better. Mike’s holding a book in one hand, and the glass sitting on the table means that he was definitely sitting there before Richie got back, but now he’s sharing his seat like the fine friggin Georgia peach that he is, holy shit.

Richie whines. “I thought being a barista would be sexy! Like, a wet dream soccer team of sweaty Brazilians asking me for juice and my number, but instead - pardon my French - I get a bunch of douchebaguettes complaining how I spelled their names wrong. I’m gay and illiterate and I didn’t fucking ask them, did I? Stop laughing at me, Mike n Ike, this is serious business.”

“I’m sorry,” he chuckles again, chest shaking with it. “Douchebaguettes?”

“You’re making fun of me. I’m wounded. Way to kick a man when he’s down, M- ah… never mind, I love you. Keep laughing at me.” He groans outright when a warm hand wraps around his foot and squeezes, eking out the ever-present ache that Richie had gotten used to ignoring.

“I love you, too.” Mike snorts, and Richie doesn’t have to look to know he’s shaking his head. Fine by him, as long as he keeps touching him like that.

“Mm, your hands are the best,” he slurs into the couch. He will abso-fruitly say anything to encourage him at this point, not that Mike seems to want to stop anyway. His palm pushes delicious friction along his arches, pulling satisfied purrs from Richie with each pass until he’s a good and proper puddle. He might actually be drooling, a little bit.

It’s only when his touch lightens that Richie jerks, and the hand pauses. “Is this okay?”

Bless Mikey’s farm boy heart, asking for consent. Richie’s heart’s gonna burst. “Y-yeah, m’good.”

And he is. Mike’s fingers trace, feather-light, and it’s like there’s shivers buried underneath Richie’s skin, waiting for Mike to pull the trigger. It feels good.

It also really, really tickles.

He snags a cushion to bury his smile in, the muscles in his leg going taut every time Mike’s fingertips venture down towards his toes. More than a few times, Richie’s foot twitches away from the tingly zaps before he can stop himself, choked off mirthful noises tightening in his throat until a few burble out.

Each time Mike waits patiently until Richie resettles his foot back in his lap, and then his drifting touch returns, slow like tree sap and unbearably electric. It’s an awful game that forces Richie to expose how much he really wants it, but then again, Mike never plays like that intentionally. He just does what seems right because he’s perfect and a gentleman.

Richie loosens like an uncoiled spring when Mike rubs his thumb over his heel, whining his loss.

And because he’s a fucking gem, Mike picks up on it right away and huffs softly. “Sorry.” He scribbles gently at the arch of Richie’s slender foot in apology, earning him a muffled snicker and scrunching soles.

“Mihihike.”

“Mhm?”

“Tickles.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

Pfft. Richie shakes his head, laughing harder into the cushion when Mike’s fingers drag down to his toes, scritching repeatedly. It’s not fair. He’s still wearing his socks with the pineapples on ‘em, and it’s worse than if he’d gone bare foot. He guesses it’s true that standing around for too long makes them more sensitive, but then, he’s always been this way.

His knees jerk far more often now that Mike’s put some gusto behind it, albeit a very small amount, but Richie thinks he does a damn decent job at keeping his feet from wiggling away, all things considered.

Still, eventually, he hears the sound of the book getting set aside. Mike stops his gentle tapping at his soles, and Richie realizes as he sags back into the couch that he’s… tired. Like, stupid sleepy. He yawns and stretches again, humming his surprise when two strong arms turn him over.

“Well hello, handsome.” Richie grins back at Mike’s amused half-smile, more than happy to be the center of his attention for a while.

“C’mon, Rich. It’s late, time for bed.”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice.”

He doesn’t fight it when Mike uses those absurdly strong arms to lift him up, despite being taller than him, wrapping his legs firmly around Mike’s hips and holding on to his shoulders. “Onward,” he yawns with enthusiasm. “Quick now yungin’, before we die of dysentery. Go on now. Git.”

Mike rolls his eyes and adjusts his grip as they head for the stairs. “Yeehaw.”

——————————

Richie tosses his controller on the couch beside him with a pout, watching the letters ‘game over’ flash across the screen. “Man…”

Behind him, he can hear the sound of the kitchen door opening and closing, and with a furrowed brow he gets up to investigate. “If you’re here to rob us, take Eddie first. He’s the easiest to carry.”

Around the corner, Ben smiles up from where he’s taking off his shoes by the rack (careful, because Stan insists). He’s beaming, actually, and still in his hot little karate outfit that makes him look like a formal dumpling. “You’re so mean to him. What if I wanted to rob you instead?”

“Everybody wants to rob me, Benny boy, get in line,” He hops up onto the counter to watch Ben’s face in the refrigerator light as he goes rummaging for a smoothie. “I’m just saying, if you’re any good at this, you gotta take the valuables first. Bottom shelf.”

Ben chuckles, leans down, and reappears, drink in hand. Richie nudges the door shut with his foot and grins back. “Who says you aren’t valuable?”

“Aw shucks.”

“Besides myself, I mean.”

“Benjamin.”

Ben laughs at him around a sip of his drink, and Richie couldn’t stay fake mad at him even if he wanted to. It’s really nice that the cheeky fuck has some confidence now, since he’s been losing some extra pounds here and there. He’s not afraid to brush past people anymore, doesn’t shift uncomfortably when his thighs touch someone else’s, and he hip-checks them on purpose with a sly look every now and then. He’s not afraid to take up space now, and all of the losers are proud of him for it, including Richie.

(He’s just, like, super jealous that he can’t have that sorta weight transferred over to himself. Just a little bit, so he’s not all jabby angles and pointy bones. Also? He’s going to miss Ben’s love handles.)

“You seem extra bold today. Care to share anything with the class?”

That happy look from a few minutes ago returns like Ben just remembered something important. “Yeah, actually - hold on…” He turns, fishing in his bag for something before turning back, fingers clutching a bundle of blue fabric. “I, uh, I got my blue belt today.”

“Holy shit!” Richie adjusts his glasses, leaning in to run his fingers over it when Ben offers it up. “You’re pullin’ my leg.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re making it up.”

“I’m not!” Ben’s voice just brims with infectious joy, like a little kid excited to show their first ever drawing from art class. He even has the little jump in his step, too.

“Benny, that’s awesome, dude!” He jumps down to punch Ben’s shoulder, smiling wide at the other’s shy but obvious pride. “And you know,” he thumbs at his upper lip and sniffs. “Not to fuck my own ass or anything, but I’m something of a dōjō master myself.”

“Really?” Ben smirks, pushing back when Richie continues to push at his shoulder with his knuckles, bouncing on his heels anime fighter style.

“Really really. Call me Sensei, ‘cause I’ll teach you to mess with me.” He dodges with a surprised bark of laughter when Ben grabs for him, ducking and bringing his hands up to defend himself as they tussle right there in the kitchen, play-wrestling – Richie’s favorite thing.

Well. Almost favorite.

“Oof!” Richie hurumphs when the quick scuffle ends with him caught in a headlock, twisting back and forth fruitlessly. “Oi! Unhand me you fiend! You scoundrel! I’ll have you nicked, I will!”

Ben, not even winded, slaps his hand away. “Admit that I won and I’ll let go.”

“I’d rather bloody perish.”

“You’d rather perish?”

“Aye.” Richie grunts, straining against the hold. It’s like trying to empty a lake with a bucket. It just ain’t happening.

“Okay.”

Ben’s free hand digs into his side and Richie collapses back into him instantly, like a buck learning how to walk, except he’s really fucking bad at it and giggling maniacally. “Ben!”

They crumple to the ground together, though Ben anticipates it, wrapping a solid arm around Richie’s waist as his other hand snakes up under his shirt to scribble at his ribs.

Richie himself is a pale pile of squirming limbs, pushing back into Ben’s chest and squeaking with each sneaky pinch to his side. He tosses his head back against Ben’s shoulder in helpless snickering, tugging at his arm. “Ch-cheater!”

“I don’t hear you complaining!” Ben shoots back, fingers darting to where his shirt rucked up at his stomach to lay ticklish waste there. They move in a constant clawing motion, gentle because Ben is always gentle, but sadistic in the best worst possible way.

Richie convulses with how hard he laughs. He’s trapped in the most backwards tickle hug to exist, socks slipping on the tile of his kitchen floor, getting tortured by the group’s designated teddy bear.

A wayward finger brushes over the curve of Richie’s hip, sending him jolting even farther into Ben’s lap, tittering.

“C’mon, Trash mouth. Fess up.”

If Ben thinks he’ll ever tap out, he is sorely mistaken.

“Never!” Richie cries, and then dissolves into cackling when Ben goes straight for his momentarily unprotected armpit.

Neither of them notice when Stanley steps into the doorway and promptly turns to walk back out, not once looking up from his phone.

——————————

Every now and then, Richie forgets that he might actually come off as attractive to the other losers. He’s always jokingly attractive, obviously. ‘Who wouldn’t want a piece of me?’ or ‘Golly, buy me dinner first!’ Are a few easy phrases to throw around, usually with a suggestive cock of his hip or an over exaggerated flutter of his eyelashes, which gets him a laugh now and then.

But like, for realzies? Richie isn’t hot hot, not like Mike or Bill with their big shoulders and mouth-watering biceps, Jesus Christ on a stick. He doesn’t have that cute allure like Eddie or Ben, either. Richie’s just a scrawny friggin beanpole, lanky, unlike the elegant way that Stan and Beverly manage.

Being so gay is hard sometimes. Everyone looks hotter than you.

“Rich?”

He startles out of his musings and comes firmly back to himself where he’s reclined next to Bill on the trampoline, reminded of how his train of thought had gone that route; they’d been messing around until they weren’t, until Bill had cupped his face and brought him into a kiss, and then a fuzzy little parasite called insecurity reared its fugly head.

Richie squashes it down around a dazed smirk, seemingly quelling the momentary unease on Bill’s face. “Yowza.”

Bill snorts and rolls his eyes, plays with the hem of Richie’s “Support Whale Sex: Use Shampoo” shirt. “I thought you weren’t in the mood, for a second.”

“Vat?” Richie cries incredulously, shifting upwards and straddling Bill’s lap. “Bullsheet. Lies.” As if Richie could ever resist a man with legs like that. Damn.

Bill’s smile is genuine when he pulls Richie back down into another kiss, their lips meeting sparking a whole new wave of something in Richie’s chest, so intense that he’s pulling back within a few seconds, “Ven you look like zat? You lift, yes? Vat kind of –“

A hand covers his mouth, and Rich realizes that Bill is furrowing his brows at him. “Why are you doing a Voice right now?”

“…I’m nervous.” He apologizes, muffled.

Bill snorts again as if to say ‘yeah right,’ but his expression softens when Richie doesn’t say anything else. “Nervous, huh?”

Richie nods, then licks Bill’s palm. He pulls it away with a disgusted chuckle, and then.

Then Richie is suddenly on his back, looking up at two dark, mischievous eyes. “Hoo shit.” He whispers. They are not in Kansas anymore.

“You should be.”

That’s all the warning Richie gets before devilish fingers attack his sides, letting loose a bout of hysterical giggles from somewhere deep in Rich’s stomach. It’s like opening the floodgates every time. A head rush and a half. He squirms immediately, laughing harder when Bill drags him back down and pins him with one forearm against his own.

“Where are you going?” He muses, fond, and Richie’s face blushes ten different shades of crimson.

“B-Bill, please!” He wriggles, fingers clawing uselessly against slick fabric. If he struggles any harder, there’s a good chance the trampoline might start bouncing them for real.

“Please what?” His fingers are skittering up his ribs now, because Bill knows Richie just can’t stand that, and he’s smiling down at him like Richie makes him the happiest he’s ever been, and Richie can’t stand that either.

He squeezes his eyes shut, laughter coming freely the more that Bill tickles up his sides and over his stomach, curling up. Bill doesn’t seem to mind his lack of answer or the way Richie’s knees jerk into his hips, content to pull an endless amount of loud snickering from his partner.

It’s only when Richie arches away with a desperate wheeze that Bill stops what he’s doing, hands rubbing firm circles into the hips he’d just been scritching at - probably a routine he knew well from getting revenge on another particularly bony little shit they knew.

“You’re so - so mean. Gah. I’m taking you out of my will, Billiam.” Richie breathes, reaching up to wipe behind his glasses.

Bill just chuckles at him and leans down, and they share a soft kiss that makes Richie’s heart flutter in his chest all over again.

——————————

Kerplunk, sploosh. Kerplunk, sploosh. Kerplunk –

“Fuck!” Richie jolts with a quiet hiss of surprise, shifting his attention from the lake to the offending pen that had just jabbed his side. Bev, sitting next to him, giggles and points to his textbooks with it.

“Focus.”

Richie sticks out his upper lip, dropping his handful of pebbles in the grass at his feet. It took him, like, a whole twenty seconds to find those. “I was focused.”

“Focus on your homework, ding dong.” She gestures with her pen again, not looking away from her own book, which she holds easily in one hand. Show off.

Richie grumbles and hunches over, scrubbing a hand over his face. He makes it through two paragraphs before he fidgets again, making to reach in his shirt pocket for a smoke before he realizes, oh, yeah, I’m giving those up. Shit.

Sometimes character development is just not worth it.

Bev appears to notice the gesture though, because she gently elbows Richie this time, gesturing to the book. “It’s really not so bad. You’ve already gotten through a few pages.”

“Yeah, with like, a bajillion more to go.” He huffs, flipping through the pages one more time before sitting up straight and slapping the table. “That’s it! I quit college.”

“Mhm.” Beverly is far too nonchalant but she can afford to be, since she’s heard the exact same statement fourteen times since the beginning of the semester. Two weeks in and going strong.

“I’m serious this time! I don’t need a degree to be funny, I’ve got that part in the bag. Also, capitalism? Who needs it.”

“Do you really hate classic mythology that much?”

Richie groans and drops his head against the picnic table. “Yes.” He’d thought that it would be cool! Gods and Goddesses and monsters (oh my), but instead he has to bear through three whole paragraphs of a list of men, all sons of other men, because any of that is just so integral to the understanding of the Trojan war. Everyone knows that Achilles was the only real bitch on that battlefield, okay? Literally nothing else matters.

He jumps again, this time snickering, when Bev scribbles at his side. “Hehehey!”

“Cheer up, Tozier. Your vibes are ruining our study date.”

Richie eyes her up, adjusting his glasses. “Are you saying that my vibes are off, Marsh?”

She nods sagely. “They’re atrocious.”

“I’ll have you know that I’ve never failed a single vibe check in my life.” And that isn’t going to change today, no sir. Just ask Eddie, the last time he tried to pull something.

“You’re gonna fail more than just this vibe check if you don’t do your reading.”

“Not true! I know the stuff, I just… don’t like it.” He’s of the philosophy that memorizing shit just makes it harder to remember. Richie can go over some of the professor’s notes online and be just fine.

Heaving a sigh, Beverly gets up. She pushes at Richie’s back. “Scoot in.”

“If you say so, ma’am.” Though Richie just complies because he wants to see where this is going. When Beverly slides in behind him, legs on either side of his, he can kinda feel her boobs pressing against his back. Nice.

“Oh hello.” Richie grins, feeling free to press back into her. She smells nice - changed her perfume for some reason - and her presence is a welcome warmth, inviting and –

She blows a raspberry against the back of his neck.

– and a fucking trap!

“Bev!” He jerks forward instantly, shoulders hunching. She follows, nuzzling into the space behind his ear, and Richie shivers violently. “O-oho my gawd, why?!”

“I’m just making sure you pay attention.” She teases, weaving her arms around his chest so that her fingertips rest at his sides, making Richie tense. But nothing comes, yet.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Tickling him is definitely not going to make him want to read more. It’s going to make him want to be tickled. It’s like trying to punish an addict with cocain.

Bev snorts, fingertips wriggling briefly enough to get a squeak and a weak squirm out of him. “Just keep reading. If you slack off, I’ll bring you back!”

Ah! So simple! Haha! Wow. Genius.

Richie sighs heavily to indicate how much he turns his nose up at this frankly childish behavior, but reluctantly opens his book back up to where he was before. Admittedly, having Bev close might help his attention span, just slightly. He can feel her cheek resting against his back, ankles brushing his every now and then, and her arms are a soothing weight against his chest. Like the fancy weighted blanket that Eddie uses on his more fidgety days.

That doesn’t stop his attention from drifting occasionally, of course. When he takes a little too long to turn the page, Beverly tweaks his ribs or snuffles at the side of his neck until he lurches forward in a bout of giggles, holding on to the wooden table for support. And sometimes, when his leg starts bouncing of its own free will, she smooths her hand down his thigh and starts squeezing his knee, earning stronger fits of squirming and yelping that even gets her to laugh. What a meanie.

“You have your own stuff to read, you know.” He huffs after a brutal attack to his hips, having nearly torn his page in half. Richie immediately regrets it though, because he doesn’t want her to stop. He silently prays that she doesn’t move, and whoever’s listening grants him a little mercy.

“I know.” She says, nudging his head with hers. Richie reaches for her hand, thinking he might off himself if she doesn’t take his back, but she does, and they sit like that together for a while, listening to nature do its thing.

“Hey, Rich?”

“Yeah?”

She uses her free hand to get at his stomach, and Richie chokes.

“Do your fucking reading.”

——————————

They’re barely three steps through the door before Stan is on Richie like strippers to a pole, pushing him up against the wall and staring him down with so much intensity that Richie doesn’t have enough breath left to ask the obvious question: what the fuck?

He grips his bag with his work outfit inside of it and tries to remember if he did anything particularly annoying on the drive home, but nothing comes to mind other than when he tried to poke Stan’s jaw and he swatted him away. Richie wasn’t actively pursuing anything because that never works with Stan. He’s like a fucking cat that way; if he gets even the slightest bit ruffled, he leaves the room, all indignant and huffy.

Hence, his confusion at this particular stunt.

That doesn’t last long though, because Stan shakes his head slowly and pulls Richie’s hat off his head, tossing it aside without even looking to see where it goes, which is a very unlike-Stan gesture.

“Stan –?“

“Shut up.”

“Shutting up.”

They look at each other, and Richie nearly trips over himself when Stan starts moving them both backwards, towards his room. Normally that might raise some flags, but they’ve been through scenarios like this before. Richie doesn’t really mind getting pushed around (in fact he might even like it a little bit if his first childhood crush is anything to go by) but not knowing the reason is… fishy.

Stan kicks the door closed behind them, still walking Richie backwards, but grabs a hold of his shirt before he can go tumbling back on the bed. “Here’s how this is going to work.”

“Uh –“ Richie’s already on board.

Stan’s grip tightens, and then Richie’s world goes scrambled for three seconds when he gets pushed - fucking pushed, the nerve - onto the bed, Stanley following after him easy as pie and hovering over him, predatory, focused. “I’m going to tickle you.”

Richie can’t hide the way his body almost seems to curve up at that statement. If his body was a temple, it was a temple to some very traitorous limbs. Stan deciding he wants to do anything even close to roughhousing is a special treat, but this one in particular has Richie’s name on it

He realizes after a beat that Stan is waiting for him to say something, and Richie, in true Richie fashion, momentarily forgets the English language. “Uhm - yes?”

“Good. Put your arms up.”

That’s not going to last, but Richie does it, and Stan leans in like the sexy Mr. Rogers that he is and… plucks his glasses off his face, sticking them in his shirt pocket. Friggin thief. When did everyone in this house get so bold? “Hey –“

“Can’t risk breaking them.” Stan answers, fingers already slipping under Richie’s shirt to flutter at his sides. Richie wiggles and his complaint trails off into a snicker. Can’t argue with that anyway he guesses.

Stan tickles him like he does everything else: thoroughly, and with dedication. Quick and nimble fingers drill into the spaces between Richie’s ribs, blunt nails scritching down to his sides, then pulling at his jeans just enough to expose his hips, and Stan’s ducking his head and Richie can fucking see those curls, almost, through his blurry, tear-stained vision, helpless with laughter already, grabbing at the head-board -

– And they pause. Stopping is so much than starting. Richie can feel Stan’s breath against his stomach, where his shirt is rucked up, when he speaks. “When’s the last time you took a shower?”

Through giggle-heavy breath, Richie struggles to answer. “Uhm, like, y-yesterday? Wh- fuhuhUCK!”

He squeals when Stan’s tongue joins the mix, starting at his belly button until he meets the curve of his hip, nibbling along his V-line with so much enthusiasm that Richie thinks he must actually taste like the coffee he smells like. That’s the only explanation for such an assault.

Richie curls in on instinct, hands going for Stan’s hair, but he must anticipate this because he sits up instantly, grabbing Richie’s wrist and glaring at him. Or, he’s probably glaring. He looks like an angry blur at the moment.

It’s…. pretty hot. Not gonna lie.

“I said keep your arms up.” He growls. When Richie slips obediently back into place without question, Stan moves down even further, hoisting Richie’s calve over his shoulder and setting to work again.

The sweeping motion of his fingertips is not as aggressive as before, though it’s probably because they don’t need to be. Even through the denim, that light swishing motion from his thigh to his knee and back again has him cackling, all reserve flying out the window as he scrambles, pulling at the sheets.

Stan pulls at him in response, taking a firm hold of his ankle and scribbling in a relentless, spidery motion at the back of his knee.

Richie 1. Screeches, then 2. Does his best impression of a hula dancer having a seizure.

Apparently breaking the arm-up rule no longer matters at this point, because Richie is just beside himself in the agonizingly sweet, tingly jolts running through his nervous system, spasming on the bed and doing anything within his physical power to get away from it.

Stan doesn’t let go, though, only moves with him, tickling and tickling. Yes, Richie thinks. Please don’t stop. This has to stop. Don’t stop. Don’t let go. Oh god, this is the fucking worst this sucks this is so good, don’t stop, don’t stop –

By the time Stan has thoroughly decimated Richie’s thinking capabilities, having seen to it that both legs have received proper attention, Richie is a curled ball of silent, wheezing laugher in the center of the bed. He takes a deep breath only to let out another fresh peal of laughter, shaking, as Stan lays beside him to rub his shoulder.

“Don’t.” He sighs after a few moments of cool down, as if exasperated, but it sounds fond.

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh while you were killing me, I’ll take note of that for next time.” Richie snarks, sniffling and wiping at his eyes.

“No, I mean don’t whine like that.”

Richie whined? “Like what?”

“Like the minute someone stops touching you, it’ll never happen again.” Stan explains patiently, like it’s obvious, twisting one of Richie’s curls around a slender finger and, for now, neglecting to mention how he needs a hair cut.

Oh, that… that – “You don’t know that.” He defends feebly, accepting his glasses when they’re pushed into his palm. Sometimes he forgets how easy it is for Stan to just look at him and see him. It’s unnerving how perceptive he can be, and possibly just as unnerving how much Richie wants to be seen, scary as that might be. He’s had killer clown dreams that terrify him less, and yet.

“I do,” Stan disagrees, making room for Richie to turn over. Neither of them are surprised when Richie ducks his head to hide his face in Stan’s button-up, cheeks burning pink from more than just exertion. “You make it painfully obvious, but it’s a ridiculous fear. There’s six other people in this house. No one’s going to stop touching you unless you ask them to.”

Richie snorts into Stan’s chest. Fat fucking chance.

Still, there’s always that lingering Voice - the one that sounds most like himself - asking him if six people will be enough. Richie Tozier has not one, but six partners and he still wonders if that attention is enough. Talk about high maintenance.

Richie closes his eyes and just enjoys Stan’s hand in his hair, trying not to think about that too much, even as he counts down the seconds to that touch stopping too. “Is it…annoying?”

“That you like tickling? No.” Stan scratches at the base of his neck and Richie hums, pressing closer. “It’s only annoying that you think it’s going to go away.”

Well fuck him, Richie can’t just control how he feels about it, okay? It’s not like he hasn’t tried before. It’s hard, he doesn’t want to think about it, he doesn’t want anything good in his life to ever end, and he especially doesn’t want Stan to stop tracing the curve of his ear like that.

Two fingers tilt his chin up, and Richie blinks back at Stan’s surprisingly soft eyes. “It’s not going to stop.” He murmurs, then kisses Richie’s forehead.

It hits him harder than a baseball bat to the gut. How did Richie Tozier die? It was the curly twink in the bedroom with unconditional love.

That being said, it’s not like he doesn’t appreciate the reassurance, even if it makes him the slightest bit vulnerable. Just a little too open. A little too raw. Tickling allows him to be like that for a short while, and maybe that’s why Richie likes it so much. Instant satisfaction, zero commitment, and it’s fun too. No arcade game or cold shower can scratch an itch for something like that.

He smiles back up at Stan and took his hand so he could kiss the back of it. A moment of mushy, romantic weakness if you will. “Aw, Staniel. You make me blush. If you wanted to woo me so badly you could have put on some judge Judy and those cute little pajama pants, maybe with some ice cream - no, definitely with some ice cream -“

Stan sighs but indulges Richie in his rambling, fingers trailing through his hair all the while. Things have already shifted back into normal territory, but there’s this new, unspoken truce between Richie and this obsession of his - the confirmation that each of his partners knows what he needs, when he needs it, and that they’re not going to drop-kick him out of their lives for asking for it one too many times. It’s nice to have something consistent in his life.

But if those six losers think they don’t have the same exact fate lingering over their heads, they have no idea what force they’re reckoning with. Richie is nothing if not a giver, and he intends to deliver their due retribution.

In full.

#submission #submitted fic #umbrella-babies #I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!!!!! UGH THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS #i love love loved it #everyone check out her blog and give her all the love and attention #fic trade #save #for me #tickle fic #ticklefic #poly!losers #poly losers #polylosers #the losers club #it #it 2017 #it 2019 #it fic

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pollylynn · 4 years

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Title: Faster, Faster WC: 1100

“All that was just an act?” — Richard Castle, Under the Gun (3 x 03)

She never wanted a pony, not for one instant. Her past is devoid of childish crayon drawings of fat bodies on uncertain legs, mane and tail streaming out behind to suggest speed and rushing wind to chase.

And she never wanted to be a princess, though she learned to fake that one at some point. She’d learned the hard way that the lack of fascination with veiled hats shaped like a traffic cone, a dearth of fantasies of being rescued, and no hard-line preference for pink its infinite shades were all liabilities, so after a lonely second grade year, she’d learned to play at it.

She’d sketched her share of turrets with lonely windows. She’d been good at actual horses, less so with the knights meant to ride them. She’d played the game until the boy–girl lines that diverged early wended their way back toward one another.

She was never quite a tom boy, She was definitely never a girly girl, even when she was faking it. And as awkward as the pre-teen years were, for her as much as anyone, they were a relief, too. I like him—that one, she could point and say when what she really liked was his moves on a skateboard, his way with a banged-up bike, his obsession with NASA and all his cool toys. I like that one.

She was never a popular girl, either. Somehow, she wasn’t, even though she was . . . sought after. All the right guys thought she was cute, thought she was cool, thought she might be fun to hang out with.

And she was fun to hang out with. Whether she was in her harsh eyeliner and blunt bangs phase, or pairing Doc Martens with a babydoll slip dress—whatever persona she was trying on or discarding, she had an ease about her. She had the gift of flitting in and out of the groups and subgroups, the trios and quartets and whatevers that constantly split off only to merge again.

She had an ease about her, and from that rose up the urge for a bike. It wasn’t about a boy. It wasn’t even about rebellion, though making the vein in her dad’s left temple do a little dance was definitely a bonus some days. It wasn’t about the pony she had never wanted, whatever fiction she’d invented on the spot to make the vein in Castle’s left temple do a little dance. The bike—the desire for it—was simply a thing unto itself.

That’s a fiction, too. She knows that as she opens up the throttle right now. The bike was a new identity—a new persona, just as invented as any other. In its infancy, it spoke to the constant itch to stand on her absolute tiptoes and stretch beyond the admittedly pleasant confines of her too-little world. Friends fell by the wayside with it—girls, guys who saw it as too absurd a posture, and she was not sad to lose them.

Later, it was continuity. It was evidence that she had once been someone—not a tom boy, not a girly girl, but someone who needed to see the black of asphalt speeding by beneath her. Later it was survival. It was the promise of a mind absolutely blank but for the concentration it took to wind her way along rutted dirt paths with her shoulders hunched against the wind.

It’s something like that tonight. The promise of a mind absolutely blank, and when she’s too tired for it to be safe anymore—when her thighs burn with the unrelenting effort of keeping the bike balanced beneath her at speed—she looks for the next promise.

It looks like an actual roadhouse. It isn’t of course. The gravitational pull of Brooklyn and all its artifice is too strong. But there are bikes of all kinds leaning out front. There’s no rhyme or reason to them that would suggest any particular artisanal identity she might run afoul of, so she rolls her bike up to a spot a little apart from the rest. She slips the chinstrap of her helmet over the handlebar and wobbles a bit on her weary road legs.

She pushes through the doors and starts working on the calculus of a woman entering a bar alone. There’s a vacant stool on the short side of the L, and at first, a buffer of two to her left and one more just around the bend. She is one whisky into her promise of a blank mind. She is staring at her hands and trying to to eradicate the image, the haptic feedback, the sound of Mike Royce’s own cuffs closing around his wrists.

“Is this seat taken?”

She has the impression of height, dark coloring. By force of habit she catalogs likely vital statistics and enough description for a BOLO.

“No.” She gestures with her mostly empty whisky glass. “And neither is that one or that one.”

He shrugs and takes the stool around the bend. There’s silence and the promise of a blank mind. She shouldn’t drink any more. She won’t, but she can sit here for a good long while, thinking of nothing. Not thinking of Royce or late night treasure hunts—not thinking of the embarrassing ninety seconds of sobbing she did against Castle’s chest as they stood, both of them, knee deep in someone’s grave with jewels at their feet, glinting hard in the moonlight.

“It’s the softail, right?” Her tall, dark caucasian male tries again. “I like to match people to their bikes. Yours is on the end, isn’t it?”

“Why is this your line?” she asks flatly.

“Not a line.” He makes an apologetic gesture. “Sorry to bother you.”

“You’re not a cop, are you?” she asks after something like a decade of silence. She’s thinking of the fat, spindle-legged ponies she never drew. She’s thinking of manes and tails streaming in the wind. She is thinking of something wholly different than the misery before her. A new person, a new cast of characters. “Your name’s not Alexander?”

“Surgeon,” he says, drawing back a little in surprise. It’s satisfying to make him draw back—to make him unsure of himself. It’s satisfying to feel in control, even though she can still feel the roar of the road beneath her feet where they’re braced on the rung of the stool. “Josh.”

“Josh.” She repeats She likes how ordinary the name is. How plain and predictable. She likes all that implies at this moment in her life. “Kate.”

A/N: UGH. This is a Brain!Poneh Mary Sue. IT IS NOT A THING.

images via homeofthenutty

#Castle #Caskett #Castle: Season 3 #Castle: Under the Gun #Kate Beckett #Richard Castle #Josh Davidson #Mike Royce #Fic #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Fan Fic #Fan Fiction #Writing #Interrogatives?

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maximoff-pan · 5 years

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Déjà Vu (Part 2) | Steve Harrington x Byers!Reader

Summary: When you found out about your pregnancy, you knew you couldn’t tell Steve. Now you’ve broken up with him. He thinks it’s because you don’t love him. You know it’s because you love him too much....But what happens when he can’t accept that you don’t love him? What happens when he calls you out on your lie?

Character: Steve Harrington

Word Count: 3276

Warnings: Pregnancy, some angst (again...oops)

A/n: I really want to thank y’all for sticking with me. I am a giant (GIANT) pain in the ass when it comes to posting consistently and it means so much to me that you’re willing to wait this long for me to post this. Without further ado, I give you, Déjà Vu Part 2!

Read Part 1: here

You could never begin to explain how horrible it feels to keep secrets from the person you love most in the world. No one would truly understand you if you tried. And yet you did....You tried.

The day you watched Steve pull out of your driveway for what you thought was for good, was the same day your web of secrets began to fall apart. You’d never expected your pregnancy to remain a secret forever, you knew it couldn’t, but you thought you were going to be able to keep it hidden for a little longer. At least until you were a few months along.

Unfortunately, your mother knew you better than anyone, and she could sense that there was something off about you. She’d heard it all, every word, every scream, and every lie you had told. It wasn’t hard to tell you were lying. She’d watched you fall in love with Steve. She’d seen how much you loved him, and while Steve may have bought your ‘I don’t love you anymore’ speech (albeit reluctantly), Joyce didn’t. Not even for a second.

When you walk through the front door, you’re too heartbroken to hide from her. You don’t try to wipe away your tears, you physically can’t. Joyce gives you a painful stare that seems to pierce through you. It’s as if she’s analyzing the situation, trying to figure out what to say. She opens her arms, ushering you towards her. “(Y/n), baby, come here.”

“Mom,” You sob into her. “I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.” Everything you had been holding in comes rushing out, and you find yourself collapsing onto the floor, pulling your mother down with you.

She rubs your back soothingly, and for the first time in her life, Joyce is utterly focused on you. It had always been something with Jonathan or Will. With Will going missing, Jonathan’s constant struggles with bullies and school, and the fiasco with the upside down and the demodogs, you were often pushed to the sidelines. You were the middle child after all.

Despite being Jonathan’s twin, you were younger, something he always had to point out. Not even your birthday was your own. Everything about you or anything that occurred in your life was always consumed by Jonathan. Nothing ever seemed to be solely yours, except for Steve. But now, with you wrapped around her as if your life depended on it, nothing could keep Joyce from you.

“Oh sweetie,” She coos. “You don’t have to apologize. Whatever’s wrong, we can fix it.”

Your heart turns at her words: we can fix it. If only she knew that you couldn’t just fix it, and more so, you didn’t want to.

“You don’t understand.” You pull away from her. Your voice is hoarse and you’re sure you look even worse than you sound. “I have everything to apologize for. This isn’t just something you can put back together.”

Joyce’s worry increases with every breath she takes, but she tries to remain calm. “Then help me understand.” She says quietly. “I want to help you, but I can’t do that if you won’t let me in.”

She watches as you visibly withdraw from her. Joyce knows that whatever is bothering you has to be something big. You wouldn’t break up with Steve over nothing, not with how much she knows you love him. But nothing could prepare her for what you were about to tell her. Nothing could prepare her for how she would feel. And then you said it:

“I’m pregnant.” Those two words are enough to make her speechless, but she isn’t angry. She can’t bring herself to be angry. All she feels is sadness for you, now knowing exactly why you’d sent Steve away.

She places her hand gently under your chin, lifting your face into her view. Your eyes are watery and filled with sorrow, afraid of what your mother might say. You wait for her to yell, but she doesn’t. She lets out a sigh, a calming smile appearing on her face. “I’m not angry.” She says.

“But you’re disappointed.” You state for her.

She shakes her head. “No, not about the baby.” She pauses, giving you a moment to digest her words. “Believe me, I’m not thrilled. I’m more shocked than anything, but you know that I would do anything, give anything, to help you.”

You nod timidly. Her eyes are gazing into your soul, and you shift in discomfort. “I know that mom.” Your voice catches in your throat. “I know you’re here for me, I just can’t help but feel like I’m alone in this.”

Jonathan’s ears perk at the sound of your voice. He swiftly leans into the living room, just enough to hear your conversation, but not be seen. Why did you feel so alone? What did Steve do? He’s not surprised that his thoughts immediately go to Steve. He’d heard the yelling, just not what you were saying, and he’d always been weary of your boyfriend.

“You will never be alone.” Joyce speaks up, and you immediately feel her love. Your mom’s tone has never been more serious. She wraps you in a tight embrace, stroking your hair as you let out a faint cry. Jonathan’s curiousity grows, waiting for either one of you to speak again.

“What if I’m not good enough?” You croak, all the self doubt coming back to you. “I know you’ll be here to help me,” you reaffirm, “but I don’t want to put that burden on you. You don’t deserve that.”

Your mother pulls you in tighter and continues to run her hands through your hair. “You are going to be wonderful. I have no doubts. But I know how much Steve loves you, and how willing he would be to help if he knew.”

“That’s what scares me mom.” The desperation in your voice only increases. “I don’t want him to help me because he feels obligated and I really don’t want him to resent me for telling him. But most of all, I don’t want to tell him, and have to watch him leave all over again. I can’t do that to myself. I wouldn’t be able to take it.”

“He wouldn’t do that to you, and you know that.” She says pointedly. There’s a hint of frustration in your mother’s eyes. You can see it plain as day. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t want you taking for granted a love she never had, or maybe it’s because she doesn’t want you ending up alone. Either way, you seemed to have struck a nerve.

“How can you be so sure?” You ask her.

“How can you not be?” Her words strike you hard. “I’ve watched that boy pour his heart and soul out for you, and I’ve watched you fall in love with each other. He would give anything to be with you. But even if you don’t want to believe that,” she makes a point to look you dead in the eyes, “you need to tell Steve about the baby because he deserves to be given the chance to be a father.”

Your shoulders sink and your stomach drops. “I know.” You reply dejectedly. “I just don’t know if I can.”

Before he can even begin to control his body, Jonathan finds himself racing for the back door. A baby? His mind begins to reel. How could you not tell him that you’re pregnant? And Steve is undoubtedly the father.

Jonathan feels his fists clench in anger. And he thinks back to Steve. Every problem he’s ever had can be rooted back to Steve Harrington. Jonathan had put up with the bullying and the tormenting, and although it took him a lot of getting used to, he was relatively good in accepting your relationship with the former king of Hawkins High, but now he had crossed the line. Getting his sister pregnant? No way. That is not something Jonathan can accept.

Getting in his car, he grips the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. Even if Steve didn’t know yet, he was soon about to find out what was coming for him.

Jonathan remembers Will saying something about going to Dustin’s to hang out with the party and that Steve was supposed to be there. After the fight you and Steve had had, Jonathan knew he’d be with Dustin. Dustin Henderson was the only person other than you that Steve completely trusted, even Jonathan knew that, which meant that if he wasn’t with you, the former King of Hawkins High would be at the Henderson’s.

/////////////

“Dustin! Stop moving around.” Lucas shouts at the curly haired boy.

All six kids are wrapped in blankets on the floor, eyes glued to the television. Snacks are littered in between them as Steve is sitting off to the side in one of the two loveseats.

“I’d stop moving if you’d stop hogging the blankets.” Dustin pokes back.

“Boys, calm yourselves.” Max laughs. “Or Steve will shut this movie right off. Won’t you Steve?”

Steve barely looks up. He sighs dejectedly with a wave of his hand, “Yeah yeah, whatever.” As much as he wants to be the fun babysitter right now, he can’t help but feel heartbroken.

“What’s crawled up his ass?” Mike interrupts.

“Who knows?” Will responds.

“Who cares?” Lucas clarifys.

Suddenly, there’s a shout from upstairs. Steve doesn’t quite register what’s happening until he hears his name being repeated, getting louder and louder.

“Steve!” The kids yell for his attention. His head snaps upwards and Dustin looks at him with concern in his eyes. “My mum is calling for you.” He says.

“Oh.” Steve replies as he gets up to walk towards the stairs leading out of the basement. “Thanks.”

“Mrs. Henderson?” He calls out. “You wanted to see me?”

She smiles as he comes into her view. “Ah, yes dear. Jonathan Byers is here to see you. Said he’d wait outside; there’s something important he needs to talk to you about.”

Steve’s eyes widen. Why was Jonathan here? What did he want? He tries to keep his facial expression neutral. He doesn’t want her to know how afraid he is. “Alright. Thank you Mrs. Henderson.”

She smiles at him once more as he walks out the front door. “No problem dear.”

When Jonathan first sees Steve, he doesn’t know whether to just punch him, or full on kill him. The latter feels like the better option, but as he gets a closer look at the older teen, he notices the brokenness that is radiating off of him.

“What do you want Byers?” Steve can’t help but be cold. “You got what you wanted. You’re sister and I aren’t together anymore.”

“That’s actually what I’m here about.” He gives Steve a serious look.

“Are you going to rub it in my face?” He spits back.

Jonathan grimaces. “Would you get over yourself for one goddamn second?” His voice doesn’t raise, but it becomes much more harsh causing Steve’s eyes to widen. “Or are you that incapable of putting anyone before yourself?”

He watches Jonathan stare him down, and his anger rises. “If this is about (Y/n),” Steve states, his tone flat, “I wasn’t the one who gave up on us. I wasn’t the one who told her that I didn’t love her. That I never loved her!” He’s on the verge of shouting now, and he feels like crying. Despite the feeling, he knows he won’t cry, because he’d cried too much already.

“If you can’t see that she’s lying to you, then you’re not the guy I thought you were.”

“The guy you thought I was?” Steve scoffs, letting out a sarcastic laugh. “And who would that be? Huh? The guy who is incapable of putting anyone before himself?”

Jonathan knows he deserved that, but he needs to get Steve back to you. Telling Steve about your pregnancy out of anger would only cause you pain, and Jonathan would never want to hurt you. When he’d gotten into his car to come find your ex-boyfriend, that had been his plan, (that and to beat the living crap out of him) but now he can see how much damage that would cause. You deserve to be the one to tell him.

“Look,” He begins. “I’m not here to hurt you, or make you feel any worse than you already feel, but I need you to know that she’s lying to you.”

Steve turns to face him. “About what?” He knows what Jonathan’s alluding to, he just needs to hear it for himself.

“For Christ’s sake Steve!” He shouts. “About not loving you. About never loving you.” He gives Steve a moment before speaking again. “I know my sister Harrington, and if there’s any person on this planet that she could choose to spend the rest of her life with, it would be with you. She broke up with you to protect you, not because she doesn’t love you. I’ve never seen her love anyone more.”

Steve feels his heartbeat quicken. “Protect me from what?”

“It’s not my place to tell.” Jonathan states. “But if I were you, I’d go talk to her, and I wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“I can’t leave now.” His voice is shaky. “Mrs. Henderson is leaving soon, and I’m supposed to be watching the kids.”

Jonathan nods at him and smiles. “Go to her Steve. I’ll take care of them.”

Steve’s heart is racing as he begins to jog to his car, fumbling for his keys. “Thanks man! I’ll uh, I’ll see you later!” He shouts back at your oldest brother. Jonathan only shakes his head and laughs, but Steve grins knowing full well that Jonathan Byers never was one for talking.

/////////////

Steve’s mind seems to be traveling much faster than his car. What did Jonathan mean? Why would you lie about not loving him? He’s never been more confused in his life.

Throughout your entire relationship, you had done nothing but show him how much you loved him. For the first time, Steve felt truly loved and truly understood. He thought he knew what it felt like to love someone so deeply. He thought Nancy had taught him that, but it hadn’t been until he was with you that it all clicked. He didn’t feel like he needed to be someone else when he was with you. He didn’t have to be King Steve, or Babysitter Steve, he could just be Steve, Steve Harrington.

That’s why when you told him you had never loved him, that it hurt so much. Because not once in your relationship did he ever feel that you were lying to him. Not once in your relationship did he feel unsure of where you stood and how you both felt.

He’s not quite sure what convinced him of your lie. Was it what you said? Or the way you said it? Either way, it broke him to feel so vulnerable again. He didn’t want to believe what you were saying to him, but after the neglect from his parents, from Nancy, how could he believe that anyone would ever love him? Especially someone like you.

/////////////

The sudden knock on your door shocks you out of your trance. Your mom had headed out to town less than half an hour ago.....surely she wouldn’t be back by now, and Jonathan and Will would never knock to get into their own home. It could be Hopper. You think. Yeah, it’s probably just Hopper.

You sigh as you get up, trudging towards the front door. Your mind refuses to think of him. It couldn’t be Steve. It can’t be him.

Steve shifts impatiently, waiting for you to open the door. When you do, all he sees is the colour drain out of your face. “Steve.” You whisper.

He doesn’t waste a second of time. He brushes passed you, quickly closing the door behind him. You eye him cautiously. He seems annoyed....flustered....maybe a mix of the two. You feel your heart begin to pound in your chest as Steve begins to pace, trying to get your attention.

“Why?” He suddenly breaks the silence.

“What?” You manage to choke out.

He runs his hand through his hair in frustration. “Why did you lie to me?”

You’re too nervous to be direct, and avoidance seems to be your best option. “I don’t know what you’re taking about.”

“Bullshit (Y/n)!” He shouts. “Don’t do this. Don’t pretend I don’t exist.”

Your eyes widen, as the guilt continues to consume you. “Steve. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“Why did you lie?” He repeats, this time harsher.

“No.” You shake your head. “No. Please don’t do this to me.”

“Why did you lie?” Steve gets closer to you, and his voice is much louder now. You’re at your breaking point, you know Steve can see that, and you can feel the tension sparking in the room. He knows if he asks you one more time, you’ll cave. “Why did you lie?”

And everything inside you breaks.

“Because I’m pregnant Steve!” You cry. “Is that what you want to hear? Huh? I lied to you because I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone before. I lied to you because I was afraid you’d leave me, and I was afraid you’d resent me. I lied to you because I didn’t want to hold you back. Because I want to keep this baby, and I don’t want you feeling obligated to be with me.”

You let out a long, shaky breath that you’d been holding. Despite your secret being out, a huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders. If Steve didn’t want to be with you, then at least you could move on, and you wouldn’t have to feel the regret of not telling him, and not knowing.

“You’re...” He stutters trying to find the words. “How uh...how far along are you?”

“A few weeks.” You reply, and for the first time today, you see Steve smile.

“We’re going to have a baby.” His words come out in a whisper. He’s in awe of the idea, surprised by it, but not upset. A brief silence rests between you two before he breaks it. “You thought I would leave you?”

You’ve never heard him sound more broken. Not even when you told him you didn’t love him. “I didn’t know what to think.”

Steve places his hand on your cheek, looking you straight in the eyes. “I would never leave you.” There are tears in both of your eyes. “I love you more than I ever thought I could love anyone. Promise you’ll never feel that way again.”

You grip him tighter, a laugh bubbling out of your throat. “I promise.” You lean up to place a kiss onto his lips. It’s tear stained, and messy, and certainly desperate, but it’s also beautiful, and loving, and sweet. Pulling away from him, you mutter, “I love you so much.”

Steve chokes out a half cry, half laugh, and grins. “I promise you, I love you more than I love anyone else on this planet.”

You smile at him once more as his hand gently touches your stomach. “I don’t think that could ever be possible.” He gives you a confused glance, and you giggle. “Just you wait until this kid is in your arms. I think you’ll find you’ve never loved anyone more than him or her.”

“Not even you?” He gasps dramatically, trying to make you laugh.

You look into his eyes with as much love as you can. “Not even me.”

/////////////

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#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #stranger thing imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagines

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