#Thea mays x fem! reader

[cloveroctobers]

THEA MAYS x f!READER / Summer Prompts

A/N: remember when I said there would possibly be a spring prompt for this want to be mean girl? Lol. Officially deleted it from my drafts since it’s summer now and we got to get it together! Anyways been wanting to write for awhile now so why not slide into something light?! Kinda. So I can continue to be inspired to write this lovely season. Although most of the AA + AA HC works will flop a little since the tags aren’t that updated, people hate the writing—which I get! or it’s usually the same shit you see there. Anyways!!!

WARNINGS: Deflecting + Thea being problematic?

Song that inspired this —

#4. Pool Party from this prompt list here — https://hailing-stars.tumblr.com/post/653205377012367360/summer-prompts-heres-a-list-of-thirty-summer

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Thea’s argument for everything lately was simply, she was figuring things out. And sure there was nothing wrong with that statement per se…until it started to become an excuse.

Once the classes before summer approached were officially over, Thea couldn’t wait to actually get away from bringston university. Thea had until July before she left for Seychelles to spend the summer with her grandmother and thought about throwing a pool party at her house. Both of her parents were away on “business” with her mother landing in Dubai and her father in Chicago—which really meant being away from each other (since they were attempting to avoid a divorce) it was the perfect idea.

At least you tried to persuade. You were really Thea’s only best friend, the only one she allowed to get close enough to; you were the one to always bring her out of her shell when she needed it. You saw pass the whole queen bee trope Thea was still sticking with and sure you were always down for some one on one time with your bestie but the semester took a turn to say the least.

The party was in full swing with the heat baking down on the various of melanin that decorated Thea’s backyard. Everyone was invited, even people that Thea didn’t invite but somehow ended up here attended. Thea wasn’t one to have people up in her space and muttered that she should have thrown a beach party instead but once she had a few Jell-O shots she seemed to simmer down.

That’s until Damon Sims approached the both of you, who lounged against the pool trimmings. He was dressed casually with a white tank assorted with a single gold chain, pink and black printed swim trunks, slides, started to let some facial hair grow in and cut his thick hair down to have his waves on swim, also his skin looked really moisturized in this blazing Georgia heat.

“Damnit, he looks good.” Thea scoffed beside you, before she brought her own red cup back up to her lips.

You snorted before putting on a smile up at the six foot man who approached the two of you.

“Ladies, it’s good to see you.” He started.

Thea flicked her hair back with one hand staring off in another direction with her sunglasses covering her eyes, “is it though?”

You nudged her.

Damon kept his cool, “I didn’t think JR would get the invite first but it’s coo, I know you’ve been busy since...Classes ended.” He chose his words carefully.

“Glad you could make it, Mr. High yellow!” You raised your plastic cup at the man who laughed at your joke with a slight roll of his eyes, tapping his cup against yours.

It seemed at if thea wouldn’t be doing much talking. And it didn’t take long for Damon to pick up on that as he shot you a look in which you shrugged your shoulders and mouthed a, “sorry,” to him.

He cleared his throat, “thea…do you think you and I can go have a conversation?”

“No.” She snapped, “go carry a new conversation somewhere else maybe with Simone, actually. I know how much you love talking to her and I didn’t even invite her ass.”

Grimacing you took a sip of your fruity cocktail.

Damon began to squat down in the space between the two of you, keeping his tone steady, “don’t be like this baby—

“Oh no,” Thea laughed, “don’t think you can just waltz over here throwing around pet names like it’s supposed to mean something to me. You chose her side time and time again even after I screwed up my arm…it’s insulting and I don’t deserve to be anyone’s number two. I worked too damn hard for everything and I deserve to have fun, not someone wasting my time.”

Damon inhaled as he noticed some eyes watching the dynamic. He gently placed his hand on Thea’s shoulder, which she flinched away from. He eased up, raising his hands in surrender, “Sure I could do better but…I’ve never chosen Simone over you.”

“Bullshit!” Thea hissed, “it’s always been that way, I maybe clueless to a lot of things but this mess of a relationship? Absolutely not! I should have listened to y/n from the very beginning.” Thea huffed, glancing up at the bright sky.

You felt Damon’s eyes burn into you now. Of course Thea threw you under the bus without thinking. Sure you and Damon got along since you shared a few classes together; before he got involved with Thea but that did not mean you didn’t have an opinion on this whole ordeal.

Damon sighed, “I agreed on this mini separation…thinking it would help us both get our minds right when it came to tennis and baseball but I really think we should further talk it out.”

Thea shoved her shades back so Damon could see the fire beneath her dark eyes. She smirked up at him sitting in silence for a moment and you knew that did not mean anything good.

The next thing you know, Thea’s reaching for the side of your neck and turning your jaw by her fingertips and you couldn’t catch her eyes as she was only staring at your lips. She took a small inhale before she planted a kiss right on yours. And you were guilty because you kissed back in that very short impulsive moment.

When she abruptly pulled back, still holding onto your skull she smiled back menacingly at Damon who’s brows were definitely furrowed right now.

“There’s your answer, damon.” Thea licked his lips, “there’s not much else to talk about, you see? I’m not just going to sit around and wait for you to decide to pick me for once. So leave me the hell alone and don’t come crawling back once you see me consistently leveling up.” She fanned her hand at the boy, handing him her cup before she lifted off the cemented seat to filly submerge herself into the water.

And both you and Damon watched her for a moment, until damon scoffed and rubbed at his nose in disbelief before leaving in silence. You on the other hand had very conflicting feelings as you watched Thea be all smiles while she chatted with someone else in the water.

You knew what your sexuality was (so did Thea) and then you thought you knew all that this is to know about Thea Mays…better than anyone yet she pulled a stunt like this? To prove what exactly? You didn’t like being used and that was part of the conflicting feelings you were experiencing right now.

So you finished you drink and also found yourself getting into the pool, but at the opposite end.

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Continue along with my summer anthology prompts here.

[kentomilk]

ᴺᴬᴺᴬᴹᴵ ᴷᴱᴺᵀᴼ ᴵᴺ

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐈𝐓'𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

it seems there is never an activity too lackluster or intimate for this couple to find pleasure in each other's company with their busy lives.

husband!nanami kento x wife fem!reader.

catalogue. fluff, slice of life content, non-sorcery au/ non-curse, modern au, salaryman!kento, sick & soft kento, (1) mentions of praise kink. wc: 1.95k thea’s preamble. inspired by this incredible art, i must admit i look at this at least once a day. → ✨ also this is my first published work, it's a bit rough but hopefully with time it gets better. thank u for reading <3

kento is a man of routine and order, we all knew that. he wakes up at a set time, kisses his beautiful sleeping wife, carries out his morning routine of showering and oral hygiene, dons his best suit, light breakfast, and is out the door by 8 AM. the evenings he returns home aren’t any less lax, whether he’s home at 6 PM on the dot or late by a few hours, he’ll always greet and kiss his beautiful wife, have dinner in his study whilst he continues more work while the lovely missus reads on the chaise or continues unfinished work of her own as well, then shower and oral hygiene, sleep. 

perhaps that was an oversimplification, but don’t be fooled one may think the man adopts and follows this lifestyle out of a need for security, financial or otherwise. or that he loves the unrelenting and perpetual cycle of working painstakingly 10-hour days, he certainly isn’t given highly-coveted tasks for being a slacker. he’s grateful for what the occupation provides, the salary and bonus that come with his overtime, to lavishly spoil his family, but that's all.

he has no ambition to climb the ladders that will put him in places he doesn't care to be, to rub elbows and kiss ass with scummy executives, leeches, and conceited thugs, only to trash talk and scheme against the moment he steps foot in his home.

all he asks is for saturdays and sundays, as they happen to be Kento’s favourite.

the days he has off from his draining 9-to-5, to be spent properly with his lovely wife. who was ever so patient with him, ever so supportive, and ever so his to love and cherish so as long as his body would allow him. even if his body was battered down to a pulp, he’d find alternatives as necessary, but let’s hope it never comes to that.

there would be times when not much would differ from the previous weekend, and well into the next, spent doing the same activities, or nothing at all. he never wanted to take for granted the time you spent together, and sometimes that meant not always making the most of those days, and he’s okay with that.

whether the two of you lazed in bed until the afternoon or spent a whole day cooking a feast completely from scratch, starters to dessert. visiting the farmers market to cook said feast, reading in your cozy home library, or even the sudden bouts of spring cleaning. 

there is always a welcome invite for spontaneity, a picnic under the stupendous aspen tree you simply adored at the local park. a quick overnight trip to a scenic and quaint town, whether your destination is reached by train, plane, automobile, or even boat. the occasional painting date has become a more frequent activity as of late. but there is one “special” activity that some might consider, unique. one that is relatively low cost, that is done from the comforts of your humble abode, that further advances the intimacy (according to kento), and is reserved solely for you, one that kento absolutely adored, shaving. 

usually, it was something he’d done alone after showers with either a rechargeable or disposable razor or by his barber when it came time for his bi-monthly hair trim. but recently it became a task that you’d undertake by kento’s request, sort of.

while you didn’t mind what would grow from a days of not shaving, he preferred maintaining a clean shave for the clean-cut classification for a man of his occupation, it also became supplemental to his hygiene routine that he grew to love.

it wasn’t something you saw often, kento so dishevelled with the most tragic undereye bags from the lack of sleep from what you’d think was months suffering from insomnia, condensed into a few days. a coarse stubble emerged from the days he’d spent in bed, and his nose was flushed with how often he’d been blowing it with the nearly empty box of tissues that was full just the night before. his eyes were dull and watering, a sight you truly hated. 

"honey, have you seen my hard drive?" he'd sorely asked for the 3rd time today, "it's in the laptop, kento." you called back, changing the towels in your bathroom.

he was delirious, with a runny nose and little to no comprehension of where he was or what day it was, thanks to the combination of flu medicine and kento’s determination to finish a work proposal whilst in bed, common sense would also call it overworking. despite your gentle commands that he needed rest, there was no triumph on your end, as duty calls. he was relentless, in his defense there was a conference that was meant to be held in person had it not been for his sudden ailment. though a live video conference was able to be arranged, owing to the urgency of the matter at hand. 

so you figured the fastest way to get the man back into bed was to help him complete this ordeal swiftly, that meant helping him in the shower, given his sore muscle ached. applying small dots of concealer under his eyes as to not bring attention to his fatigued face, deterring from the presentation at hand.

dressing him in his warmest wool suit, but only the upper half, kento was sound enough to know there was no need to abandon his fleecy Pompompurin pajama pants. the executives were only to see from the shoulders up after all. and lastly ridding him of a heavy five o'clock shadow that was speckled with smears of dried rice from the porridge you had made him earlier. 

“ok, that should be enough,” you whispered, carefully taking off the damp towel that no longer retained warmth, and squeezing out the shaving cream from the canister into your hand.

you proceed to spread the milky foam in a thin layer across the lower half of his face, letting out a soft chuckle at the finished outcome. you picked up the brand-new razor from the counter, puffing your cheeks and letting out a deep breath.

“i trust you.” kento whispered, his voice scratchy and hushed. 

you smiled in response, quietly informing him that you were starting. you crouched to his eye level, pulling his cheek upward with one hand, so the skin where you would shave would be taut. you intently watched his face as well as the area that you had just removed facial hair, making sure that there were no nicks or alter in his relaxed expression, verging on sleep. once you gained confirmation of such, you proceeded to shave the next row, and the next, working inwards towards his lips. 

rinsing the razor after each use, and wiping on a towel you had draped on the counter. though nerve-wracking for a first try, it had been executed well and was quite therapeutic. your eyes were attentive and your hands steady with every down stroke. as you continued to rinse and repeat, literally, you looked up into the bathroom mirror to see your husband rotating his head to view the work that had been done, then looking straight at you with a simple grin and tired eyes, asking what he thought so far.

“you’re doing so good, my love.” he plainly states, but those watery eyes said otherwise with an innuendo you couldn’t miss, in a singular eyebrow raise. stupid praise kink, you thought, looking him up and down, wondering how even in this state, where he acquired the audacity. it wasn’t long until the two of you burst into a fit of laughter, kento being cautious as to not rub off the shaving cream with one hand that covered his eyes as he leaned back in the chair. 

“what even are you.” you snickered, quickly calming yourself with the reminder of the razor in your hand.

you proceeded to shave, on the brink of completion, now focusing above his lip, where you took even more caution than you had before, due to the sensitivity of his skin in that area. opting to sit on his lap, nearly chest-to-chest with his sore arms that maintained enough strength to have a secure hold on you, even though your knees were bent, and your feet touched the heated floor effortlessly. 

a few stolen kisses on kento’s behalf, and nothing more than a restrained smile that he was fighting from getting any bigger as you finished the last few strokes. in his mind, it was anticipated that the minute kento finally got better, you were going to contract what he had afterward anyway. and in turn, he’d take care of you. 

so what's the harm in a few more kisses?

“so my dear husband, how would you like to start our weekend?” you asked, still cozily tucked under the blankets, looking at your husband who was similarly bundled under the toasty blankets, with your hand situated on top of his, placed gently on your cheek.

“well dear wife, it’s been days since i’ve last shaved.” he simpered, looking down at you with sly eyes.

it was something the both of you saw coming, once again he hadn’t been shaving for a while, but of course, it was deliberate. you softly laugh in response with your voice still heavy in slumber, “i’ll go get the facial steamer— in a few minutes, i want to savor every second of this vacation.” further burrowing yourself into his chest.

it had been a few months since the first time you had to shave kento’s while he was recovering, the proposal went flawlessly if you omit the booming sneezes that startled the executives even through the screen.

you had since made the switch to a straight blade like the ones you’d see used in old school barber shops, watching tutorials on methods exercised by professionals for efficiency and safety. 

invested in a proper kit that supplied everything you’d need. from shave oil, pre-shave oil, shave cream, a velvety brush to spread the lather, after-shave (which smelled phenomenal), and blade replacements.

it’s been even longer since his barber last gave him a proper shave after a haircut, and that time will only continue to be prolonged. he loved how close you’d be when focusing, but time after time you’d only grown to relax the tension in your muscles. you’d sit on his lap for more of the session, and those sessions would only go longer from the last.

where there would be conversation taking place about your lives, now and the future. sometimes there would be easy-listening music playing from the speakers that would lay the cornerstones of an “impromptu” dancing session, where kento’s hands would be politely placed on your lower back, and his hand strong in yours, waltzing all around your bathroom for what felt like forever.

he was shirtless, and truth be told a little chilly, and you were wearing an old shirt of his, to him you always looked beautiful. even though there was still plenty of shaving cream on his face, it would eventually be smeared on yours. there wasn’t much more he wanted in life.

if you ask him, any weekend is well-spent, even if you do spend the entirety of it in bed, painting beautiful sceneries, cooking your favourite dishes, dancing with ardour despite having taken one class on ballroom waltz, or you shaving his grown-out stubble. as long as you're by his side, nothing is ever a waste of time. that’s how it’s been, that’s how is it, and that’s how it’ll be.

and who knows, maybe next time kento will convince you to cut his hair.

[interactions] reblogs, comments & likes are appreciated ₊˚⊹♡

[harringtown]

steve harrington must die - pt 1

did it take me an eternity to finish part 1? yes. but we did it pals!!! welcome to the john tucker must die au!!! right now I've got this plotted at four parts & it'll kinda follow along the s3 timeline!!! 

requested by @la-fille-en-aiguilles​

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: three of Steve Harrington’s exes set up their former boyfriend to fall in love with the reader, so they can break his heart (aka introductions, general set up, and a laser tag date) 

word count: 4.6k

-

During June in Indiana, there are only a handful of places to escape from the sweltering heat and near-constant dampness that comes along with it. If you’re committed enough and make it to the pool before the crowds descend, a lawn chair in the shade and a dip in the water. If you’re quiet enough, the library’s AC spends its summers rattling and cranking out cool-but-not-cold air.

The best, though, is Starcourt Mall. With its shiny new fixings and fancy appliances, walking into the mall always feels like stepping onto another planet. One where the sun doesn’t declare war on its people during the summers.

Three days into June, and the heat is already unbearable. As such, you spent most of May in the food court or browsing the stores or simply lying on the benches with your friends to avoid going back outside. June, July, and August are looking the same.

Having a mall is already an oddity. The girls you occupy your time with while you’re at the mall is even more odd.

You’d always heard things changed after graduation. You didn’t believe it until now, sitting around bright white food court tables with three girls you wouldn't have been caught dead with in high school, and vice versa. Social circles ran tight at Hawkins High, and it wasn’t until you were all released that you saw them for what they truly were. Or, more technically, until you got stuck in the Starcourt Mall elevator for two hours with them on your first day of summer vacation and came out fast friends.

“Alright, what are our options today, ladies?” Rebecca asks. In high school, she was class president and head of pretty much every club. Today, she stares intently at the food court signs like they’ll change out of her sheer will.

“Exactly the same as yesterday,” says Theresa-call-me-Thea, kicking her shin-high slouched leather boots up onto the plastic table. To her right, Beth swipes her smoothie out of the way just in time to keep it from going flying and shoots Thea a glare.

“We’ve got hot dogs, pretzels, burger king, and the great cookie. Not a single healthy option,” Beth says. Once a star athlete at Hawkins High, her few months of graduation hadn’t yet shaken its hold. Beth is always dressed like she’s heading to a workout or just came from one.

“Don’t even talk to me about the great cookie,” Thea groans. “If I eat another, I will combust.”

“We could just get ice cream,” you say. In over a month’s worth of rotations, Scoops Ahoy hasn’t been factored in once. The girls practically act like it doesn’t exist and have for so long you forgot to question it. “We never do, and that sundae always looks ridiculously good.”

All three girls protest at once.

“Absolutely not,” Rebecca says.

“Not a goddamn chance,” Thea says.

“No way,” says Beth.

You frown, sneaking a glance at the Scoops Ahoy counter. Apart from a manager you’ve only seen once or twice, the only consistent employees are a girl from the year beneath you, and Steve Harrington, once the alleged King of Hawkins High, who now spends his days scooping cones for tweens. Unless there was some rumor about rats in the kitchen, you don’t see any reason for boycotting what is clearly a popular spot.

“What do you people have against ice cream?” you ask.

One side of Beth’s mouth curls up, but the others aren’t impressed.

“Ice cream? Love the stuff. Can’t get enough of it,” Thea says.

“Steve Harrington, on the other hand?” says Rebecca. She shakes her head.

Thea scoffs and folds her arms over her chest. Her bracelets jangle and clack. “That’s one prom photo I will never get back.”

“Homecoming,” Beth says.

“Spring Fling,” Rebecca says with a snort.

“Wait, all three of you—” You start.

“Three months in ‘82,” Thea says, jabbing a finger at Rebecca. “Four at the beginning of ‘83.” She points to Beth. “And a whopping four and a half after that.” She gestures to herself.

“And still breaking hearts from the looks of it,” Beth says.

At the Scoops Ahoy counter, Steve has an exaggerated grin as he talks to two girls as he rings them up. You may not be able to hear the flirting, but you don’t need to.

“Friggin’ Casanova.” Thea huffs. “I mean, I get it, we all get a little too caught up in a boy with cute hair at some point, but Jesus. You’d think he’d run out of girls to work his act on by now.”

“He’ll get his,” Rebecca says. “Just you wait. One day, a girl is going to come along and rip his heart into pieces, just like he did to us. And he won’t even see it coming.”

“Oh, I’d like to see that,” Thea says.

“Ditto,” says Beth.

A silent second passes, and then, three pairs of eyes slide to you.

A wide, mischievous grin pulls on Thea’s dark-red stained lips. “Is anyone thinking what I’m thinking?”

Beth frowns. “Oh, I don’t know about that—”

“Absolutely I am,” Rebecca says.

“Oh, come on, Beth,” Thea says, reaching over to tap on Beth’s wrist. “You can’t tell me you haven’t secretly wished to see that boy get knocked off his high horse for years.”

Beth frowns. “I mean, yes, but—”

“Yeah, so I’m not thinking what you’re thinking,” you say, “and I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me it's not possible,” Thea says, leaning over the table to stare at Beth. Beth, with visible irritation, rolls her eyes and turns to Rebecca.

“Do not encourage this,” Beth says.

“Encourage what?” you ask. “Seriously, if someone doesn’t start talking, I’m going up to the Scoops Ahoy counter and telling Steve Harrington you all want a sundae delivered right to the table by him, personally.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Thea says.

Beth leans her forearms into the table, nudging Thea’s boots aside.

“They’re talking about getting even,” Beth says. “Breaking Steve Harrington’s heart and using you to do it.”

“Using is such a negative word,” Thea says.

“We could do it, though,” Rebecca says. “The three of us combined, we know him better than anyone. What he likes, what he doesn’t. We could make the perfect girl. Or, perfect for Steve Harrington.”

“That’s insane,” you say.  “If it were someone else—If I were someone else—maybe, but...”

“You’re pretty much the only one who can do it,” Rebecca says. “You’re our very own trojan horse.”

“Weren’t you the one who was complaining about being bored out of their mind?” Thea asked. “Having nothing to do?” The excitement in her voice is persuasive in itself. It’s one of the things you like best about Thea. To her, anything is an adventure to embark on or a mystery to solve. “Think about it. You’d go down in Hawkins history.”

“She’s exaggerating,” Beth says. She purses her lips. “But she’s not wrong.”

“Aha!” Thea claps once. “And we’ve swayed the jury, ladies and germs.”

“It’s not up to me,” Beth says. “It’s up to you.” Beth nods at you.

“So?” Thea asks. She props her elbows on the table and leans her chin into her hands, waggling her dark brows. “Are you in? Tell me you’re in.”

You look between them.

Without a mission, albeit stupid, ridiculous, and destined to fail, the rest of the summer will be just like it has been. Every day as boring and uneventful as the last.

And maybe breaking Steve Harrington’s heart won’t put you in the history books. But it is something, and clearly, it’s important to the girls.

“I’m in,” you say.

-

And so, after three days of surprisingly intense preparation by Thea, Beth, and Rebecca, you don’t head to the usual spot to meet up with the girls. Instead, you make your way through the crowded food court—the lunch rush is in full swing, and you swear half the town is in line for shriveled corn dogs or oily pizza.

Steve Harrington stands at the ice cream counter, just like he does every day.

Back in school, your familiarity with him was more of a know-of-him type. The first two and a half years, his name carried through the halls daily. Then Billy Hargrove moved to town. One day the boys came to school with bright bruises and fresh cuts, and in an instant Billy’s name climbed above Steve’s.

After that, you didn’t hear much about Steve Harrington.

Only a few customers are waiting at the ice cream counter, and within two minutes, it’s your turn at the front.

“Be with you in a sec!” Steve calls, momentarily busy wiping up the melted sample someone spilled on the ice cream case.

He is immediately not what you expected, though the uniform doesn’t help. The bright blue sailors uniform and clunky white hat aren’t exactly doing him any favors in upholding his reputation. He looks more like the boy next door than the king of Hawkins High.

He doesn’t look as perfect as he once did, either. His nose has clearly been broken, probably more than once, and a handful of little scars catch in the fluorescent lights.

“Sorry about that,” Steve says, tossing the blue-stained napkins into the trash and turning to face you. “I swear, some of these kids were raised by actual wolves—” He stops as his eyes catch yours, mouth open mid-sentence like someone reached in and plucked the words out. He clears his throat, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think he might be blushing. “What can I get ya?”

Your heart races, and not for the first time, you wonder if you’re even capable of this. If you’re the right choice for this little mission. But you’re at the counter, so there’s no turning back now.

“Can I get a scoop of the U.S.S. Butterscotch?” you ask, willing your voice not to waver. “Apparently it’s the best ice cream in Hawkins.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s out of this world,” Steve says.

Steve isn’t the only one surprised when you laugh—you’re surprised, too. Surprised that he made such a dorky joke, and surprised that it’s actually kind of funny.

“Don’t hype it up too much,” you say. “Your tip depends on it.”

Steve snorts a laugh. A line forms between his brows. He tugs an ice cream scooper out of his pocket and flips it over his wrist—a mindless action that, weirdly, grabs your attention and holds it. Holds it tight enough you don’t hear what he says next, and ask, “What?” far too loud.

A lopsided grin forms on his lips. “I know you,” he repeats.

You frown. Shit. It figures. Three minutes into the con, and your cover is already broken.

“Miss Harrison’s class. Senior year.”

Relief pushes a breath out of you, and you force a nervous smile—the nerves don’t need to be faked.

“I can’t believe you remember me,” you say.

He shifts back a bit, still smiling, like he’s shocked you’re even asking.

“Of course, I remember you. You sat right in front of me. I spent a year staring at the back of your head.”

“So, if I’d have walked up backwards, you’d have recognized me immediately?”

“Oh, no doubt,” Steve says.

You laugh, and though you know you’re supposed to, you don’t have to fake it. Steve laughs, too, and when the laughter fades, the pair of you just smile at each other for a little too long.

“Hey! Harrington! We have ice cream needs back here!” A young girl with her friends sidles up beside you, apparently familiar with Steve or just confident, or both.

Steve takes a breath and gives you an expression that makes it seem like you’re both in on some inside joke. It’s almost impressive how quickly he managed to turn you from strangers into allies.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you, Sinclair. You’ll get your ice cream. Hold your damn horses,” Steve calls. He gives you an apologetic smile. “That’ll be $1.25.”

You nod, digging a bill and a quarter out of your pocket and handing it over. Steve’s fingers brush yours as he takes the money, and it feels like a moment right out of those cheesy films Rebecca is obsessed with, but your heart skips a beat anyway.

Steve tucks the money into the register and holds out a receipt.

Before you lose your nerve, you ask, “Do you have a pen?”

Steve frowns but digs a pen out of his pocket and passes it to you. He says nothing, but as you scrawl the digits onto the paper, his eyes go wide.

“What is—” He starts.

“My number,” you say, shoving the receipt back across the counter. You flash a smile. “You should use it.”

His frown deepens, and then, in an instant, transforms into a smile that even manages to convince you, at least for a moment, of its genuineness. Before you do something stupid, like fall for it, you turn and walk away, heart still pounding against your ribs.

-

“Well, well, well, Popeye,” Robin announces as she shoves open the flimsy divider between the front and back of the shop. She slaps her whiteboard on the counter, uncapping her pen. “I think you just earned yourself the first tally for this side of the board.”

Steve rolls his eyes, grabbing the receipt—your receipt—from the counter and tucking it gently in his pocket.

“Thank you, captain obvious,” he says, and hopes Robin can’t tell he’s blushing.

To his infinite relief, Robin only teases him about it for a few minutes, and the lunch rush saves him. He spends the rest of his shift thinking about the two minutes you stood at the counter.

It feels different. It feels like, maybe, finally, it might be real.  

-

“Steve Harrington has officially taken the bait, ” Thea says, throwing herself onto Beth’s bed. Beth, sitting against the headboard, draws her legs out of the way just in time to prevent Thea slamming into them. She purses her lips but doesn’t chide Thea.

Rebecca slides across the floor on the rolling desk chair, leaning her arms over the back of it. “Where’s he taking you?”

You take the open spot at the end of Beth’s bed, pulling your legs up under you. “No clue. He said it was a surprise.” You cock a brow. “What are the chances he’s taking me somewhere to murder me?”

Thea snorts. “He may be a lady-killer, but he’s not an actual killer.”

“Never say lady-killer again,” Rebecca says.

“Lady-killer.” Thea grins. “Lady—”

Beth reaches down to swat at Thea’s shoulder. Thea laughs, craning away.

“Focus,” Beth says. “Y/N is going into the lion’s den tonight.”

You frown. So far, Steve Harrington isn’t the playboy he’s been made out to be. To be fair, you’ve only had two interactions with the boy since high school. And the girls actually knew him.

“He’s just a guy,” you say.

“A guy who probably doesn’t know how to do his own laundry,” Rebecca says.

Thea lets out a dramatic sigh. “Those are always the most dangerous ones.”

-

Steve doesn’t take you into the lion’s den. He still won't tell you exactly where you’re going, but when he pulls into the parking lot of a decent restaurant, some of your fear dissipates.

“Italian food?” you ask, as he puts the car in park.

He flashes you a grin, and says, “Someone’s impatient.”

“More like, making sure you’re not kidnapping me.”

He snorts. “I don’t think it’s kidnapping if you’re 18.” He arches a brow at you. “And do you really think I’m organized enough to pull something like that off?” He shakes his head. “Besides, my trunk is way too small.”

“I mean, no, I don’t think you are—“

Steve feigns offense, a hand flying to his chest, and he gasps.

“But I’d be stupid to put it past you.”

To your surprise, Steve just smiles.

“For the record,” he says, popping open the driver’s side door, “we’re not getting Italian food. And I’m not kidnapping you.” He slides out of the car and shuts his door, but before you’ve even undone your seatbelt, Steve is opening the passenger side door for you.

You know it’s all part of the act, but there’s nothing in his eyes that justifies that. All you can see is a bouncy, nervous boy opening the door for his date.

He’s more dangerous than you realized, because he doesn’t appear to be.

Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you climb out of the car, Steve nudging the door shut after you.

“So, if we’re not getting Italian food, what exactly are we doing here?” you ask.

A mischievous grin pulls on his lips.

“We,” he says, “are playing laser tag.”

And against your better judgment, against everything you told yourself before going into this, you smile back.

-

The laser tag place, appropriately named Laser Tron, is busier than one might expect on a random Thursday night, and apart from you and Steve, no one is older than fourteen.

And though the teams are split evenly before heading into the room, the second you pass through the door, it becomes two on everyone else, with the younger kids splitting off to one side of the dark, neon-splashed room, and you and Steve heading for the other side.

The room has two stories, with dozens of walls and objects to hide behind, and green, pink, and blue paint scattered across the walls and floors. You’re sporting a bulky, worn vest, and a massive plastic gun, and once again, despite all your preparations, you’re surprised to find you’re already having fun. Steve helps you into your vest, and his fingers linger at the top of the zipper, thumbs grazing the hollow of your throat, and you try and convince yourself it’s adrenaline, not him, that makes your pulse leap.

With one minute until the game begins, you and Steve find a spot in the far corner, back to back.

“You ready for this?” Steve asks, his shoulders bumping yours. You can hear the smile in his voice.

“I think I’d prefer Italian food,” you say.

Steve snorts a laugh, and says, “Too late for that now.”

“You do realize we’re, like, the oldest people here, right?”

“Which means we’ve got the advantage,” Steve says.

“Us against fifteen pre-teens? I don’t know about that.” You raise your laser gun in preparation. “I think we’re screwed.”

Steve laughs again, and it’s an infectious sound. His energy, the shifting weight and fast breaths, is infectious, and again, you forget the whole reason you’re here.

“We’ll see about that,” he says.

Then the buzzer starts, a dozen children scream with delight, and the game begins.

-

“Go, go, go!” Steve yells, his gun in one hand, your fingers held tight in the other. You race up the stairs with him, twisting to fire a laser shot toward the trio of twelve year old’s pursuing you.

An OUT buzzer rings, and one of the kids curses just as you and Steve reach the top of the stairs. He pulls you sideways, down the neon walkway, firing as he goes.

“Behind you!” You say, ducking under Steve’s raised arm to fire at the teen coming down the hall. His buzzer rings, and he groans, his gun smacking his side.

Steve drags you behind a wall, and you skid, falling into him, pinning him against the wood. The only thing between you is the thick fabric of the vests, but you can feel his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Time slows. His eyes find yours, and his irises are blown, and the crown of his hair shines with sweat, and his gaze darts down to your lips, and for a moment, you’re sure he’s going to kiss you. For a moment, you want him to.

Then his eyes dart over your shoulder, and in one swift motion, he slips an arm around your waist, spins you around, presses you against the wall, and raises his gun to fire at someone around the corner. A buzzer rings, and Steve catches your gaze again, grinning lopsidedly.

You let out a harsh breath, and push out of his arms, pretending you’re adjusting your vest.

“How many are left?” you ask.

Steve leans to each side, scanning the aisles and the floor below, his brows furrowed.

“I wanna say… six? Maybe seven?”

“God, it’s like they’re multiplying,” you say.

“Don’t tell me you’re giving up,” he says.

“Not a chance.”

“Good,” Steve says. “Because we’ve got three pre-teen girls headed our way, and they look pretty pissed.”

“Guess we should do something about that,” you say.

Steve grins, and takes your hand, and you let him. And for a little while, you forget why you’re not supposed to.

-

The game lasts another twenty minutes, and to your utter shock, you and Steve’s duo comes out on top. And you know you should probably feel bad about kicking a bunch of thirteen year old’s asses, but as you and Steve head out into the warm night, all you feel is giddy. Like you’re drunk, but you haven’t had a touch of alcohol.

Steve has an arm around your shoulder, and he smells like sandalwood and aftershave, and in the moonlight, he doesn’t look like everything you’ve been told he is. The last hour, and he’s been nothing like you’ve been told he is.

He only lets you go to open the passenger door for you, and though you tell yourself this is only part of the game, you still blush as he shuts it after you. Blush until he comes around the front and climbs into the driver’s seat.

You don’t realize you’re staring at him until he frowns, and asks, “What?”

You shake your head. “How the hell are you so good at that?”

An almost sheepish smile flashes across his lips.

“I mean, they were a bunch of kids. We got lucky.”

“Oh, no, we absolutely did not,” you say. “That was… incredible. Like, you have no right to be as good at laser tag as you are.”

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” he says. And when you roll your eyes, he continues, “Seriously. You kicked ass in there.”

“You did most of the work. What, were you a soldier in some past life?”

An indecipherable emotion flickers across his face, and you can’t begin to read it, but it makes your insides ache, opens some unknown door in your chest. It feels like seeing behind some big curtain, but before you can identify what you see, Steve is smiling again, and turning on the engine.

It’s a clear and unofficial end of conversation, but you don’t mind. With each foot the car pulls away from the plaza, your friends' voices pop back into your head. The stories they told of the weeks or months it took to get over him.

Shame coils in your gut, hot and sharp.

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe you’re the wrong person to do this. Maybe you have no goddamn clue what you’re doing, and you’re just going to get hurt.

But as Steve pulls out of the parking lot and back onto the road, tossing a soft smile your way, you realize that maybe none of that matters. Because maybe it’s too late.

-

Steve makes conversation as he drives you home, asking questions about your summer and your family and your pets and your future plans, and he seems to actually want to know the answers.

And you surprise yourself by asking questions back. About how he ended up working at Scoops (his dad is an asshole, and Steve didn’t get into college) and about the girl, Robin, he’s always with (from the way he talks about her, you don’t think there’s anything romantic there, but you’re not sure) and about what he wants to do with his life (he has no clue, which is an odd relief, because you have no clue, either).

It’s all painfully and beautifully normal until Steve turns into your neighborhood, and the car slides past the Holland house. It’s been two years since Barbara Holland disappeared from Steve’s backyard. Two years since the cops started looking, and a year since they stopped.

The car slows down just enough for you to notice, and when you look over, Steve has the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. His gaze is locked on the house.

Your brain rifles through everything it has regarding Barbara Holland in relation to Steve Harrington. Barbara and Nancy Wheeler were attached at the hip for most of high school, and when Nancy and Steve started dating, that didn’t change.

“You were friends with her, right?” you ask, knowing you’re poking the bear, and unable to stop yourself.

“What?” His response comes a little too fast, and his voice is a little too high.

“With Barb. Before she…” You clear your throat.

“No,” Steve says. “I wasn’t.” And his tone is harsh, a clear ending to the conversation before it even starts.

“But I thought—”

“I said no,” Steve snaps. “Just… drop it.” He rakes a hand through his hair, and his entropy changes. He is rigid and cold. He’s not the boy from the laser tag place, the one who opened your door for you.

The spell that’s been broken doesn’t rise again, and the last two minutes of the drive to your house are silent and awkward. By the time Steve pulls into your driveway, the tension in the car is so thick, you could slice through it.

Steve kills the engine and is out of the car and opening your door before you have your seatbelt undone, once again. But he doesn’t meet your eyes, and his jaw is clenched, and he doesn’t put his arm around you again. He walks to your door, and when you turn to face him, his smile is so plastic, you think it would crinkle if he moved.

“That was fun,” you say, because you’re not sure what to do with the silence, because you’re desperate to fill the seconds until you can get inside the door.

“Yeah, it was,” Steve says. You don’t have to know him that well to see he’s distracted. He glances over his shoulder as if he expects to find something running up behind him. He catches your eye again, clearing his throat. “Have a good night, y/n.”

And then he’s turning, heading back down the drive, climbing into his car. He’s gone so fast, you can do nothing but stand on the porch and watch as his car grows smaller and smaller, until it turns down the street and disappears.

Your stomach churns and lurches as you unlock your front door and slip into the dark house. To your eternal relief, your family is already in bed, and you don’t have to suffer the third degree. You’re already guaranteed it from the girls at the mall tomorrow.

You had fun with Steve tonight. A lot of fun. More fun than you’ll ever admit to Beth, Thea, and Rebecca.

But the Steve that dropped you off is different from the one you spent the night with, and he is the whole reason you’re here in the first place. The cruel, cold tone. The refusal to meet your eyes, like he’s too good to do so. The flippancy with which he left, like he hadn’t just taken you on the best date of your life.

You’re here to break Steve Harrington’s heart.

No, not to break it. You’re here to shatter it. Pulverize it. Break it beyond repair, the way he’s done to so many girls.

Game on, Harrington.

[midnightswithdearkatytspb]

MidnightsWithDearKatyTSPB’s Recommendation List: April PT. 2

Welcome to part 2 of April’s recommendation list, down below you will find the link to part 1. Please send me a moodboard request for your work. I love making them. If you are interested in having your writing challenges featured here, your stories, or even your blog, please feel free to tag me in your works, message me, or use the hashtag MidnightWithDearKatyTSPB. I hope you are having a lovely start to spring or fall, depending on where you live.

<< April Pt. 1 🌷

May Pt. 1 💐 >>

Masterlist 📜

In My Hometown (Moodboard) >> Joel Miller x Reader - "I won't ask you to wait if you don't ask me to stay."

More Than Just An Heiress (One-Shot) >> Dougie Poynter x OFC!Greer Smith - Summary: Greer Smith, the best friend of Dougie Poynter, is turning another year older. She needs reminding that she is more than what she is labeled.

BLURBS/DRABBLES:

Easter Egg Hunt by @look-at-the-soul >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: The Shelby family has an Easter egg hunt for the children, and you have a special one for Tommy. (my summary) | It's so fluffy and sweet. I love it!

March Madness Drabble Challenge 2023 - Peaky Edition: Day 25 by @acewritesfics >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: Gif Request - Sneak Preview: “Then you know what to do, Tom,” she reminds him of what they last spoke about. | This needs to be shared again because, sometimes, Thomas Shelby needs to be told.

Takes One to Know One by @zablife >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: You are Lady Sarah of Connemara. At least that’s what you want everyone to believe. | You know the gif where the girl flings the newspaper and dances? That's me. Love it.

Tommy Shelby + Secret - Mood Board by @acewritesfics >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: Tommy Shelby has a secret he's been keeping close to his chest. (my summary) | Tommy Shelby is never late to anything, and I absolutely adore this moodboard and drabble.

ONE-SHOTS:

Home by @shelbyssins >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Request - Sneak Preview: Her eyes widened as he started to speak to her again, she couldn’t focus on his voice over the sound of her blood rushing in her ears, “If you tell me to leave you alone, I will,” is all she heard him say. | Prepare to have your heart broken and put back together within less than 8 thousand words.

Loud Sounds by @runnning-outof-time >> Tommy Shelby x Reader ft. Daughter!Thea - Summary: Gif Request - Sneak Preview: “Mumma’s not going to be happy that you got your shoes and pants wet,” she pointed out in a warning tone, making Tommy realized that the lower half of his legs were now submerged in the pond. | K writes what I feel would have happened in an episode had Tommy had a PTSD episode while being a wonderful father to his daughter Thea.

Pen Pals by @little-diable & @zablife >> Tommy Shelby x fem!Reader - Summary: Tommy and the reader have been pen pals as teenagers, though ripped apart by the war. Now, as she is trapped in an abusive marriage, she finds Tommy's old letters again, and she can't help but wonder if he had made it home from war, and if so, could he be the helping hand she's desperate for? | I thoroughly enjoyed reading. I just about melted right where I sat.

Ruined by @areyenotfondofmelobster >> Arthur Shelby x Reader - Summary: Arthur wants to love you, your scars, and all you are. (my summary) | The is beautifully written, and as someone who has scars and is self-conscious, I would love to have Arthur love me like this.

This Storm Will Also Pass by @runnning-outof-time >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: Tommy manages to calm down (Y/N) after he finds her hiding and riddled with anxiety during a late autumn thunderstorm. | K knows how to write a piece that could have occurred on the show. I'm not sure which is my favorite part, the ending or when he comes home to her.

SERIES:

A Different Sort of Man | Chapter 7 | Epilogue | by @evita-shelby >> Tommy Shelby x OFC!Eva Shelby - Summary: Or where Eva plays around with magic and Tommy wakes up in a universe where Grace is his wife while that universe's Tommy discovers just how different his life would have been if he pursued the pretty witch in 71 Watery Lane | What a perfect way to end the series with both Tommy and Thomas getting a happy ending, which they deserve. Very much enjoyed this series, and I think you will enjoy this read.

Family Ties | Chapter 17 by @peakyscillian >> Modern!Tommy Shelby x f!reader - Summary: The Shelby’s will do anything for family. | Such a beautiful way to end the series.

ONE-SHOTS:

soft morning sex with Frank? by @amhrosina >> Frank Castle x Reader - Reader sleeps in and wakes to Frank, and what follows is a pleasant morning together of soft morning sex. (my summary) | Love a sappy love-drunk Frank.

TED LASSO:

Begin Again Ch. 3 | Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 by @teds-mustache-wrangler >> Ted Lasso x OFC!Penny Fletcher - Summary: When Penny starts working at AFC Richmond as their new head photographer, she catches the eye of a certain mustached, happy-go-lucky, head coach of the team. But can their spark endure through the season’s pressures and the demons of their past? | I feel so lucky to get to read this story before everyone else does. Because I get to be so excited for you guys. Wren does such an amazing job forming relationships with her characters. You just can't help but to want more.

PEDRO PASCAL CHARACTERS:

DRABBLES:

Booby Trap by @zablife >> Joel Miller x Reader - Summary: Gif Request - Sneak Preview: "This is more than I bargained for," he said with a shake of his head. | I requested this from Lee, and she had me all smiles by the middle of it. It's a must-read Joel drabble that you don't want to miss.

ONE-SHOTS:

Breaking The Girl by @cinematicgf >> dom!Joel Miller x sub f!reader - Summary: as a casual photographer, you find the opportunity to go with your neglectful boyfriend to his hometown for the summer thrilling. Taking photos of his neighbors and friends whilst not blowing money on a huge vacation sounds perfect. A small job with his mum, neighborhood summer get-togethers, and weekend beach trips accompanied by your trusty camera, why not?! But when a certain charming Southern man, known as your boyfriend’s old boss, enters the mix, you can't take your lens off the fine older man, and he can't seem to take it off you either. | This piece was so scorching and enjoyable.

Editorial by @just-some-random-blogger >> Joel Miller x Reader - Summary: "Can I read your diary?" "No." "Please." "I said no." "Pretty please?" "Ellie." "P l e a s e?" "No." | You got your angst and fluff. It's too adorable for words.

Just Keep Breathing by @swiftispunk >> Javier Peña x f!reader - Summary: Javi finds it harder and harder to keep up with the more physical aspects of his job. Reader offers him some love and words of comfort. | It's so soft and fluffy. 🥹🥹

Let Me by @swiftispunk >> Javier Peña x f!reader - Summary: Reader is inexperienced, Javi helps you out. You know, like a gentleman. | Someone, please cool me down, stat.

Rare by @swiftispunk >> Joel Miller x f!reader - Summary: A rare find on a supply run leads to some new and unlikely experiences. | You guys are in for a treat with this one. It's all porn. I consider this Dom!Joel, and it's perfect. *chefs kiss*

Soaked by @joelscruff >> Javier Peña x f!reader - Summary: It's hard being an intern for a man who won't even look at you, but maybe there's something else to it that you don't see. | If people don't get soaked reading this, I don't even know.

Ultraviolence by @devilmademewriteit >> raider!joel miller x fem!afab!reader | Summary: Thank god—a handsome stranger saves you from the grips of a pack of cruel, cruel men. Unfortunately, said stranger, Joel Miller, is cut from the exact same cloth as the rest of them. | Sometimes you need some dark!Joel with filth in it, and this was it.

What I Need by @swiftispunk >> Joel Miller x fem!reader - Summary: Reader has a bad day. Joel gives you what you need. you know, uh, fuck it, Joel Miller knife play. | It's hot 🥵 and it's dirty. I love it! 🥰

SERIES:

Apothecary | Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | by @atinylittlepain >> Joel Miller x witchy!reader - Summary: Joel becomes curious about the woman running the medicine shop in Jackson and the strange rumors swirling around her. | I'm so excited to see where this goes. Witchy + Joel? Yes, please!

Fallacy: Reject Me, I Get It by @cherry-clafoutis >> Joel Miller x Reader - Summary: You're young, sick, and vulnerable after getting rid of your family with your own hands. Trying to survive in a broken world. When Joel Miller finds you, you swear he is your guardian angel. Falling in love with him was wrong but inevitable. | This series has everything you need in a reader insert for The Last of Us. Adventure, Action, Angst, Love, and Family. It’s just perfect. It was my binge of the day, and I’m glad that I did.

*In My Hometown | pt. i | pt. ii | @swiftispunk >> neighbour!dbf!Joel Miller x fem!afab!reader (+ platonic!Tommy and platonic!Sarah) - Summary: Tomorrow, you leave town for good. tonight, you cross the line with your neighbour, Joel. | This ripped my heart out, but like in a good way? It's the writing okay and the playlist that goes with it. Just oomph. It's a must-read.

Need To Know That I Want You by @joelscruff >> Joel Miller x Reader - Summary: Joel calls you his good girl for the first time. (Takes place after this) | This series continues to get hotter and hotter.

Night Walks by @toxicanonymity >> dark!creepy!Joel Miller x Reader - Summary: Joel, an older neighbor you've been walking with late at night, asks you into his basement to sell him weed but has other intentions. | Sometimes you just want some dark and creepy Joel, and @toxicanonymity does not let their readers down.

*September by @wheresarizona >> Joel Miller x f!reader - Summary: Joel Miller was the love of your life, your plans to spend the rest of your days with him derailed by the world ending. You got separated on the day of the Outbreak and never saw him again, not knowing if he survived until you find out the smuggler Marlene hired to bring an immune girl to your research hospital is none other than the man you thought you'd lost forever. | You will go through every possible emotion while reading this series. It's still in progress, and I love it so much.

TRIPLE FRONTIER:

BLURBS/DRABBLES:

A Better Person by @musings-of-a-rose >> Santiago Garcia x f!reader - Summary/Request: "You made me a better person." | The hopeless romantic in me was squealing. You're going to love it.

ONE-SHOTS:

Champagne Fulled Confessions by @violentdelightsandviolentends >> Will "Ironhead" Miller x Female Reader - Summary/Request: I have something to tell you and coming home drunk scenario. | I can never get enough of Will, but add Porn and I'm in heaven.

Save Tonight by @psychedelic-ink >> Santiago Garcia x f!reader x Frankie Morales - Summary: Frankie has a proposal for you that you're eager to accept. | This is very hot. 😅🔥🥵

MOODBOARDS:

Arthur's Angel, Everybody Eleses White Devil by @call-sign-shark

Arthur Shelby Modern AU by @call-sign-shark

John Shelby and Dangerous by @cillmequick

Tommy Shelby and Angel by @cillmequick

Tommy Shelby and Serene by @cillmequick

@swiftispunk - Hannah is a great writer getting you sucked into her various Javier Peña and Joel Miller works that she has written. Her current Joel Miller story, In My Hometown, comes with a playlist that helps you feel every bit of emotion she tries to relay through her writing, from the heartbreak to the angst. I highly suggest giving her masterlist a read-through and turning on her notifications.

@wheresarizona - Arizona writes for various Pedro Pascal characters, and through her works, she takes you to far-off destinations you never thought imaginable. I feel various emotions that keep me returning for more of her writing. When in need of a break from this reality, Arizona provides you one through her masterlist with various stories and one-shots. I suggest reading September, a Joel Miller series that is still ongoing, and Learned Something New, a Jack Daniels blurb that got me into Agent Whiskey. Whether in need of something long or short, Arizona has you covered.

[fubureaders]

so i'm making a fanfic on wattpad about gar logan from titans (there's also some rpf in there with ryan potter x reader because i love that man and he needs more people thirsting over him), and i just posted the introduction!!

as you may know from my page, i'm very new to writing fanfic so it'll be a little longer before there's actual content, but i hope that you read the introduction/backstory that i just posted!! more than that, i hope you like it (of course)

and here's the link, of course

happy reading <3

[supervoldejaygent]

Suspicious Activity

Fandom: Arrow

Pairing: Felicity Smoak x fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.5K

Summary: Both on their first dates in a few months, Reader and Felicity hope the night ends well, even with some unexpected date crashers.

A/N: Hello my lovelies! It is I! The writer who has so many ideas but can’t seem to sit down and write all of them and instead plays amazing video games like Mass Effect! I’ll be honest, I’m only playing Mass Effect right now. Anywhooo, it seems my too long writer’s block is over and I have not one, not two, but seven other fics in the works! I’m hoping with my new found energy, I can get those out to you guys before spooky season is over! So, here’s hoping! Now, without further ado, this fic! Enjoy (:

~ ~ ~

It was a quiet night, a beautiful one. The sun started to set, the flocking birds whistling their tune, and an autumn breeze blew its way through Star City. It was breathtaking, and the night was only starting. 

Felicity wrung out her hands as she stood in front of her full-length mirror, tugging at the end of her rose gold, knee-high dress. It hugged her waist perfectly, flaring slightly into a light twirl skirt. Perfect date dress, yet, Felicity couldn’t help but wonder if she should change. Right as she was about to voice her thoughts, her best girlfriend, Thea, entered counter-acting her conscience.

“Oh my god,” she breathed. “Felicity, you look stunning.”

“Really?” Thea nodded. “You don’t think I should change?”

“Why would you change?”

Felicity shrugged. “You don’t think it’s too much?”

“Heck no! I think you are gonna drive her wild. And if the night doesn’t end in sex, then she’s not the one.”

“Thea!” Felicity nervously laughed. Yes, it had been a while, considering her last relationship with Oliver had ended almost half a year ago. Still, she didn’t want to expect that the night would end that way, all she wanted was the night to end well.

“What! I’m just saying what everyone has been thinking.”

“Everyone has been thinking that?”

She shrugged. “Not out loud, but we all know how badly you need a night out. So, don’t worry at all about any cases tonight, just enjoy yourself.”

“Right, enjoy myself.” Felicity walked over to her closet to grab a pair of heels and her clutch, before turning to Thea to voice another concern of hers. “Are you sure you guys won’t need me? Because I can cancel---”

“No, Felicity,” Thea stated, ending any other ‘buts’ that could possibly leave Felicity’s mouth. “You are going on this date, and you are going to have a fun time. Trust me.”

Nodding to her friend’s words, who she knew was right, Felicity finished getting ready, texting her date that she was on her way to the restaurant. It was time for Felicity to move on and have a good, loving relationship.

The sun had almost fully set by the time (Y/N) had arrived at Café L’Amour. The moon and surrounding stars were getting ready to sparkle, as the harsh winds of Star City grew quiet, softly blowing and waving through the trees like a sacred dance. It calmed (Y/N), seeing the trees wave back and forth. It had been a couple of months since she had gone on a date, her job keeping that part of her life empty. But she was excited for this one. She had only ever heard of good things of Felicity from her friends, and if everything went her way, work would not call her and she could actually make it to the end of the night.

As the wind blew, (Y/N) thanked her conscience for making her grab a jacket but cursed herself for wearing a short black dress that barely reached her knees. The tight pencil skirt may have kept her legs close together, but it made nothing better as her legs shivered. 

Shaking from nerves and chill, (Y/N) checked her phone, a text from Felicity appearing, letting her know that she was on her way. She was about to turn her phone back off when a familiar number appeared, calling her.

Sighing as she picked up, (Y/N) bit bitterly, “Yes?”

“Well, that’s no way to talk to your partner.”

“Sorry, Drake,” she sighed again. “How can I help you?”

“Has your date showed up yet?”

“No, but she’s on her way, why?”

“Just checking. Chief said if you were available, to check out our lead for the Crenshaw case.”

“Well, I’m busy, so I can’t go.”

“Alright, well I’m still going to go.”

“I know what you’re doing, Drake,” (Y/N) huffed. “You’re trying to guilt me into helping you so you don’t have to bring Kresminski.”

Drake sighed. “You got me. Look, I’m only trying to save you some trouble. We both know how hard it is to date with our hours.”

(Y/N) rubbed her temples, pulling her jacket in closer to her body. “I know, but I need this. Plus, I have a good feeling about this.”

“You said that last time and the guy ended up being a magician.”

“Yeah, okay, but this is different. I have heard nothing bad about Felicity and if that’s not a good sign, then I don’t know what is.”

“Fine,” her partner said. “Have a good date or whatever.” Before (Y/N) could reply, the phone call ended, leaving her by herself again. Although the wait wasn’t too long, Felicity showed up about five minutes later, looking like a beautiful girl in a dream. Something, that she told her, causing the blonde to blush and compliment (Y/N) in the same fashion. As (Y/N) thanked her, she held the door open and walked in after Felicity towards their table.

The date had been going well, neither a buzz from either girl’s phones, interrupting the pleasant conversation about the countryside and visiting Europe that they were having. In fact, there had been no peeps from either phone since sitting down. It was nice, quiet, almost too quiet. But neither girl said anything about it, instead opting to enjoy the company of each other over dinner, dessert, and a few glasses of rose. 

As the night sky grew darker and time ticked away, (Y/N) and Felicity lost themselves in each other. It was like the gods above were further intertwining their lives the later it got. Despite the night going so well, neither were prepared for the pullback to reality they received. Like a pack of wolves, a group of men, all dressed in black entered the restaurant, shouting and yelling for no one other, then Felicity Smoak.

“Where is Felicity Smoak!” the leader yelled. He had a black ski mask pulled over his face, as did the others, but his had red circles around the eyes. He held a shotgun, aimed at an elderly couple. Their eyes were wide in horror, probably praying that this would not be their last night.

Knowing better than to put a civilian in harm’s way, (Y/N) very carefully reached into her bag to grab her gun, whispering to Felicity to get to the ground and hide behind the table. They were sat in the back, so unless the men decided to venture further than the first few rows, no one would know she was there.

“What!” Felicity whispered yelled. “I am not getting on the ground!”

“Well, I am not putting you in danger!” (Y/N) whispered yelled back. “Now hide under the table!”

Felicity huffed, doing as her date said. “What are you going to do exactly? You are one person, and you have one small gun. Also, where did you get a gun?”

“I’m a cop, I always carry one with me. As for taking care of them, I have already texted for backup, so if we chill, we can avoid being drastic.”

“HEY!” (Y/N) quickly turned her head to the strained voice on her left side. It was the leader of the group, his gun in front of him and in the ready-to-use position. “WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO BACK THERE!”

(Y/N) felt her heart clutch. Backup wouldn’t be there for at least another ten minutes and Felicity was right, she only had one gun. But she couldn’t put her date into the view of those men, so with fake confidence, (Y/N) slipped her gun into the thigh holster she had that was luckily covered by her dress and stood up with her hands raised.

“My name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), I am a detective with SCPD. If you do not put your guns down and let these people go, I will be forced to take you down.”

The men laughed at her, looking around themselves. There were at least seven of them, all with guns that could easily take her down with a single step. Yet, she held her ground, ready to grab her gun when the time came.

When the group’s laughter died down, the leader locked eyes with her. “You and what army?”

“Her and this army!” said a gruff voice from above. (Y/N) looked up to see something she would’ve never expected to see. The Green Arrow and his crew. They jumped in through the windows, shattering the glass. One of them, she believed to go by the name Black Canary, ran over to her, shielding her from any of the bullets that began to ring through the restaurant. The duo ran over to a nearby table, Black Canary telling her to stay hidden behind. (Y/N) began to protest, to tell the vigilante that she could help, but the woman in black only shook her head, insisting she stay behind the table until the whole ordeal was over. 

(Y/N)’s head began to run rampant with theories for how they all knew that the restaurant was in trouble. SCPD despised the Green Arrow and his fellow vigilantes, so it couldn’t have been that. She wasn’t hanging out with her best friend, Thea, whom she knew was the archer in red known as Speedy, so that was a no-go. Which meant there could’ve been only one possibility left. The person that this night seemed to center around, the woman who this group was after, (Y/N)’s date. Felicity Smoak.

But how did Felicity know the Green Arrow? Did she text him directly? Maybe she texted Thea, as she was the one that set them up. So, Felicity texted Thea and Thea told everyone else on the team? That seemed less likely as Thea wasn’t even here tonight. It was only three of the normal group: Black Canary, Spartan, and the Green Arrow. Maybe Thea called one of them. Or they’re all in one big group chat. Whatever the answer was it led back to Felicity all the same.

Having been lost in her thoughts, (Y/N) hadn’t even realized the fight had ended until a green glove appeared before her, helping her up from her crouched position. There, standing in front of her was someone she never thought she would meet face to face. The Green Arrow.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice as gruff as it was when he announced his arrival. 

“You are welcome?” (Y/N) replied, confused by his gesture.

“Keep an eye on her for me, will you?” he nodded behind her, causing (Y/N) to look back at the person he had been referring to. Her.

“I will.” she smiled, he nodded, and just as swiftly as they entered, he and his crew left. Brushing off her dress, (Y/N) walked over to Felicity, ready to get her out of here when SCPD rolled in, guns drawn. (Y/N) sighed, giving Felicity the “one-second” finger and walking over to the backup that arrived to tell them the story of what happened.

It wasn’t for another twenty minutes until (Y/N) and Felicity reunited after all the excitement. The duo walked hand in hand back to Felicity’s car in silence, both clouded by questions and wonderment that they weren’t sure they wanted the answers to. When the pair arrived, they both stood there, hands still held in each other, both unsure what to say. 

It wasn’t until (Y/N) leaned against Felicity’s car, setting off her car alarm did either one say anything. 

“Sorry, I---” (Y/N) tried to apologize as Felicity fumbled for her keys. (Y/N) stood tall again, her hands feeling cold without Felicity’s. 

“No it’s all good, I---” Finding her keys, Felicity ended the car’s whining. “I’m sorry.”

(Y/N) crossed her arms. “For what?”

“For the armed men that just endangered our lives. Your life. They were after me and I put you right in the middle of the situation.”

(Y/N) took a step towards the blonde woman, taking her hands into her own again. “First off, I endangered my own life by playing hero. You saved me with your unknown contact to the Green Arrow. Secondly, it’s not your fault, in any way, shape, or form. You couldn’t have known that they were going to be at Café L’Amour. And if you did, we would be having a very different conversation. You should not be sorry, for anything.”

“Do you think I have the ability to be evil?” 

“I think if you wanted to be evil, you would be an adorable villain.”

“I appreciate that.” Once again, silence overtook the conversation, leaving Felicity shivering in the cool autumn air. (Y/N), being the polite woman she was, quickly took off her own jacket, and wrapped it around Felicity, opting to be cold. Her date tried to say no to her kind gesture, but (Y/N) was persistent, saying she wasn’t even cold, even though it wasn’t true.

When (Y/N) had enough of the silence, she cleared her throat. “So, you know the Green Arrow?”

Felicity nodded, pulling the jacket tighter to her body. “Well, technically, if I’m being honest, I work with him. And the rest of Team Arrow. I’m actually one of the founding members of Team Arrow. I even have my own nickname. Overwatch.”

“Wow,” (Y/N) breathed. “That’s...a lot, but I’m gonna get over it and I’m over it. That makes a lot more sense. I thought you had texted Thea, but when I didn’t see her in the group, I tossed that theory out the window.”

Felicity paused. “Why would I have texted Thea?”

“Uh, you don’t have to hide her identity, Thea is my best friend. I know she’s Speedy.”

Felicity nodded, not even bothering to try and deflect (Y/N)’s statement. “So, you’re a cop?”

“Technically, I’m a detective.”

“You’re not going to arrest me for being a part of Star City’s most notorious vigilante group, are you?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not you’re in that sort of thing.” (Y/N) grinned when her suggestion caused Felicity’s face to turn bright red. “I mean, we can test it out, tonight. If you’re up for it? My place is empty and no one, that I know of at least, will be barging in with a group of six men and shotguns, so we should be good.”

“Ah, well, uhm, I---” Felicity stumbled over her words, stopping to take a deep breath to compose herself. “I would love to.”

“Great, let’s get going, Ms. Smoak.”

“Lead the way, Ms.(Y/L/N).” Outside the air was quiet but inside (Y/N) (Y/L/N)’s apartment, sound raved and bounced off walls and wailed into the rooms next door. The night might have been a cool, calming wave of malcontent, but the morning was going to be a warm, sunray of bliss.