#but here’s a glimpse into some of my favorite pictures so far

[agaypanic]

former theater kid as well !! maybe a story about regina with a gf in theater club ?

My Little Star (Regina George X Theater Kid!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Your girlfriend comes to see you in your last high school show.

A/N: depending on which regina you’re envisioning with this, au where everyone has smartphones. post!mean girls regina bc then i wont feel too bad if she seems too ooc. ive been thinking a lot about romeo and juliet lately so the play is romeo and juliet teehee

***

If you had told your younger self that at the end of your senior year, you’d be the leading star in your final show and be dating Regina George, she would’ve thought you were insane.

Yet here you were, getting ready for the opening night of Romeo and Juliet while your girlfriend spam-texted you words of encouragement.

Regina <3

You’re gonna do so good, I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU!!!

I was gonna keep it a surprise until after the show, but I got your favorite 

*Sent 1 Attachment*

Unlocking your phone to respond, you were greeted with a picture of Regina sitting in the auditorium holding a large bouquet of your favorite flowers. She had a great big smile on her face, her eyes squinting from it. 

Your breath hitched. You knew Regina loved you, but the picture radiated her feelings of pride for you. It made you want to run out and smother her in affection.

Instead, you texted her back.

You

OMG you’re literally the sweetest Regina!!

I’ll be looking for you in the audience lol

Regina <3

I’m sitting in the very center, so hopefully I’m easy to spot

Especially with this giant ass bouquet

You laughed at the message and soon got a tap on your shoulder from one of your friends, telling you places were in five minutes.

You

I have to go, we’re gonna start soon

But I’ll be looking for you :)) 

You waited until you saw a response from Regina before putting your phone in your bag.

Regina <3

YOU’RE GONNA DO AMAZING

BREAK A LEG <3333

DON’T ACTUALLY BREAK A LEG THO

THAT’D BE BAD

I LOVE YOU!!!

Laughing at her stream of messages, you put your phone away and rushed out to your place. As much as you revel in the fact that you had a leading role, you were already waiting for the show to be over so you could see Regina.

***

If you had to choose one, the death scene was probably your favorite. It was dramatic, which was always fun, and you got to stab yourself with a retractable blade.

“What’s here? A cup, closed in my true love’s hand?” You took the empty cup out of Romeo’s, whose real name was Jared, stiff hand, inspecting it. “Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end: O churl! Drunk all, and left no friendly drop to help me after?” You dropped the cup in distress, wondering what to do. Then your eyes fell on Jared’s lips, and you had a revelation. “I will kiss thy lips; Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, to make die with a restorative.”

You held his face gently in your hands and leaned down to kiss him. Every time you went through a kiss scene with Jared, you pretended it was Regina you were kissing. The passion seemed more authentic that way.

You pulled away, staring down at Jared.

“Thy lips are warm.” You said brokenheartedly. You were just barely too late. If only he had waited a while longer to drink the poison so you’d be awake to stop him.

“Lead, boy: which way?” You heard from offstage. 

“Yea, noise?” You looked toward the direction of the noise’s source in a panic. “Then I’ll be brief. O happy dagger!”

You grabbed Romeo’s dagger and raised it to the audience. And that’s when you caught a glimpse of Regina. Despite the room being dark and her being far away, you could feel her excitement as she watched. You had to stop yourself from smiling.

“This is thy sheath,” You say before shoving the dagger into your heart. You gasp a little and look up. To the audience, you could’ve been looking up to the heavens in your last moments. But you were doing your best to stare into Regina’s eyes that were fixated on you. “There rust, and let me die.”

With that, you fell on top of Jared’s body, doing your best not to crush him as you ‘died.’

The scene continued from there, and you did your best not to move. Your back was killing you from the long show, but eventually, it ended. When you came out for bows, you heard a particularly loud cheer, and you didn’t have to guess who it was. It made you smile even more, so much that your cheeks started getting sore.

When the bows were over, and the cast and crew were finding their friends and family in the audience, you ran to Regina. It was a bit difficult weaving through the crowd, especially in your costume, but eventually, you reached the blonde, who had her arms opened wide and ready to catch you.

“You were amazing!” Regina all but shouted in your ear as she hugged you, squeezing you tightly. “Absolutely showstopping. One day, you’ll be a famous actress.”

“You think too highly of me, Regina.” You said with a giggle, and you were sure that your reddening cheeks were showing through your heavy stage makeup.

You grabbed your girlfriend’s face and kissed her. It was a million times better than pretending you were kissing her instead of Jared when you were on stage. Regina’s hands dropped to your hips, pulling you close against her. When you let out a little moan, you knew you should pull away before you felt like you couldn’t turn back.

“These are for you,” Regina said before biting her slightly swollen lip, giving you the giant bouquet she had gotten for you. One thing about Regina was that she was never cheap.

“I love them.” You smiled, giving her a few pecks.

“Anything for you, my little star.” The nickname made you giddy, made you feel like you were the only ones in this gigantic room. “Now how about you go change, we get some food, and then you sleep over at my house?”

“That sounds perfect.” You kissed Regina again; it was like you were addicted to her lips. “I should go now. If I kiss you anymore, I’ll probably never leave.”

“I definitely wouldn’t complain,” Regina smirked, but agreed that you should go change. She turned you around by the shoulders and gave you a quick pat on the butt to send you on your way, laughing at the way you squealed in surprise.

[dear-bunnyboo]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐈𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄 || 𝐉𝐎𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖

important note: my face claim will be madison beer but you can imagine whoever you desire. also the songs mentioned are not all technically all madison’s i will be incorporating other songs from other artists.

all the pictures seen below are not mine, however they were edited by yours truly. credits to the owners.

happy new year, my loves! 🎉🎊🍾 not the season we wanted, however, I know for a fact that the next one will be our comeback season!!! Hope this makes you guys happy even if for a little while.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Joe Burrow x Singer!Reader / Brief Ex!Jack Hughes x Singer!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You decided to go live… your fans are nosy, Joe is noisy.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing, social media, media, hate comments, ig live comments, fluff, mentions of cheating ex, fluff, more fluffiness, tooth rotting moments, Joe Burrow being a simp, established relationship

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐜. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐍𝐇𝐋 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐲/𝐧_𝐲/𝐥/𝐧 started a live video.

You lounged on a plush couch in the heart of your stylishly decorated living room. Soft, ambient lights adorned the space, casting a warm glow on tasteful decor that bore witness to your numerous achievements. The room emanated a sense of comfort and sophistication, a reflection of your own laid-back yet refined taste.

Clutching your phone, you felt the familiar anticipation as she initiated an Instagram live session. Excitement filled the air as you looked into the camera, ready to connect with your fans after a hiatus from such spontaneous interactions. The room, a blend of neutral tones and vibrant accents, served as the perfect backdrop for you to share a slice of your life.

The subtle hum of background music added to the ambiance, enhancing the sense of ease that permeated the room.

You leaned back against the plush cushions, your eyes fixed on the phone's camera. "Hello, I’m gonna wait for people to come before starting.”

𝐟𝐚𝐧1: HELLOOOO QUEEENB!!!&3)373

𝐟𝐚𝐧2: MISS THING!? ARE MY EYES DECEIVING ME OR ARE U LIVE RN!??

𝐟𝐚𝐧3: y/n I love you 🩷🩷🩷

𝐟𝐚𝐧4: hello from Italy 🇮🇹

𝐟𝐚𝐧5: Omg! It’s been a while since you’ve been live 🥹🩵

“It's been a while, hasn't it? I don’t usually do lives but a lot of you guys have been asking me to, so… here I am.” You giggled.

The room feels cozy, with the soft glow of lights creating a warm ambiance. You can't help but smile as the viewer count rises steadily.

𝐟𝐚𝐧6: girl you look good 😫

𝐟𝐚𝐧7: 🧡🧡🧡

𝐟𝐚𝐧8: y/n you have no business looking so good like that at home.

𝐟𝐚𝐧9: are you making new music?

𝐟𝐚𝐧10: come to japan!!

Questions flood in, ranging from music updates to personal anecdotes. "Ah, someone asked about new music. You know I'm always working on something. I've got a few surprises up my sleeve, so stay tuned for that."

𝐟𝐚𝐧11: what’s your favorite genre?

𝐟𝐚𝐧12: where is y/bf/n?

𝐟𝐚𝐧13: talk about your breakup with Jack.

𝐟𝐚𝐧14: do you still watch Hockey?

𝐟𝐚𝐧15: GIRL WE NEED YOUR SKINCARE ROUTINE ASAP!!

𝐟𝐚𝐧16: what’s your songwriting process?

The chat scrolls rapidly, and you pick a question about your music preferences. "Favorite genre at the moment? Honestly, it changes all the time, but lately, I've been vibing with some indie and acoustic stuff.”

As more questions pour in, ranging from songwriting inspiration to behind-the-scenes moments, you share glimpses of your creative process. "Songwriting is such a personal journey. It could be a fleeting emotion, a random moment, or even something a fan shares. Inspiration can come from anywhere, really."

“How fast can you write lyrics?” You read in the comments.

“Uhm, it depends. Sometimes I get a wave of ideas just flowing. But there are also times where I get stuck and it takes forever for me to continue… it really does depend. But the fastest song I’ve written is far, has to be Selfish and Reckless. I write those two back-to-back in about three, four hours.”

𝐟𝐚𝐧17: I bet it’s easier to write when you have A LOT of things to say.

𝐟𝐚𝐧18: can you say hello to my cousin, Annie?

𝐟𝐚𝐧19: pineapples on pizza? yes or no?

As the questions continued pouring in, you found yourself engrossed in the virtual conversation. Little did you know, the front door to your home had swung open, announcing the arrival of your boyfriend, Joe, fresh from hanging out with his friends.

The comments section, ever vigilant, caught the subtle sounds of the door and began buzzing with curiosity.

𝐟𝐚𝐧20: Did anyone else hear that? Is someone there?

𝐟𝐚𝐧21: is it y/bf/n? I hope it’s her, I love when they do lives together.

𝐟𝐚𝐧22: girl are you being robbed?

𝐟𝐚𝐧23: I don’t think she heard.

𝐟𝐚𝐧24: SOMEONE JUST ENTERED YOUR HOUSE MISS THING?!!!

Your fans, always quick to pick up on details, speculated about the unexpected noise.

Your eyes met Joe's from his place by the door, and a smile crept across your face. Ignoring the barrage of questions flooding the comments about the mysterious door sound.

As he moved closer to you, you moved the camera away from the two of you as he leaned down and placed a kiss on your lips, “Hey, baby.” He mutters against your lips.

“Hello.” You whispered, pecking him one more time before moving away, facing the camera back to you as Joe walked towards the sofa, placing his things on it.

𝐟𝐚𝐧25: GOOD GOD IS IT JOE? AND DID I HEAR KISSING NOISES?!

𝐟𝐚𝐧26: she was just kissing someone right now 🥲

𝐟𝐚𝐧27: HI JOEEEE💕💕

𝐟𝐚𝐧28: imagine if she was cheating on Joe like she did with Jack and got caught on live 😂

𝐟𝐚𝐧29: OH ITS DEF JOE, DO U SEE HER SMILE 🥹

𝐟𝐚𝐧30: Who was that?

"Who was that?" you read from the comments, a mischievous twinkle in your eyes. With a playful grin, you responded, "Santa." Giggles escaped your lips as you teased your online audience, fully enjoying the mysterious atmosphere you had unintentionally created.

Off-camera, Joe's puzzled expression deepened as he tried to make sense of your comment. Unaware of the ongoing live session, he exchanged a confused look with you, silently asking for an explanation.

𝐟𝐚𝐧31: oh they’re messing with us.

𝐟𝐚𝐧32: Y/N! STOP GATEKEEPING JOSEPH!!

𝐟𝐚𝐧33: Tell Joe I said hi.

𝐟𝐚𝐧34: Can you tease your new music?

𝐟𝐚𝐧35: BITCH WHAT DO YOU MEAN SANTA!?

𝐟𝐚𝐧36: “I saw mommy kissing, Santa Claus.” 😉

"Can you tease us about your new music?" you read from the comments, a gleam of excitement in your eyes. With a teasing smile, you responded, "Well, I'm planning on releasing an album soon." A collective wave of comments flood in your live as your fans absorbed the thrilling revelation.

The anticipation soared as you continued, "I've poured my heart and soul into this one. Some unexpected collaborations, and a sound that's a departure from what you've heard before. It's a journey, and I can't wait to take it with all of you.”

“That’s a bit of a generic answer.” You laughed as you read that comment.

“Okay, okay, I’m not allowed to talk about it too much as of now but since I love you guys too much… I can say that the vibes for this album would be the complete opposite of my previous one, Teardrops.”

𝐟𝐚𝐧37: EXCUSE ME!? DID SHE JUST CONFIRM A NEW ALBUM COMING SOOONNN!!?

𝐟𝐚𝐧38: HOLY SHIT! YES PLEASE 😍

𝐟𝐚𝐧39: opposite of Teardrops, she’s gonna be in her Lover era. Mark my fucking words.

𝐟𝐚𝐧40: release it now. I dare you to.

The comment section erupted with excitement, fans expressing their anticipation and excitement for the upcoming album. Amidst the flurry of reactions, the domestic sounds from Joe in the kitchen continued, adding a delightful and unintentional layer to the unfolding live session.

Amid the ongoing banter with your fans, the sound of Joe moving around in the kitchen reached the microphone, making a subtle entrance into the live. A clink of glasses and the humming of the refrigerator added a domestic soundtrack to the virtual conversation.

𝐟𝐚𝐧41: what in the hell is going on in your house?

𝐟𝐚𝐧42: IS JOE COOKING?!

𝐟𝐚𝐧43: I don’t think Joe knows how to cook, it’s sounds like he’s building something 💀

𝐟𝐚𝐧44: gurl—

𝐟𝐚𝐧45: I LOVE UUUUUU 😍😍

The comments section buzzed with speculation as your followers eagerly awaited an explanation.

“What’s that noise?”

Maintaining your composure, you chuckled, "Oh, just Santa making himself at home in the kitchen. You know how it is." The playful tone in your voice only fueled the curiosity of your audience, prompting more questions about the mysterious happenings in your house, knowing fully well it’s your boyfriend, Joe.

Joe silently took a seat behind the camera, handing you a glass of wine. A warmth spread across your face as you accepted it, maintaining your live composure. "I couldn’t find the fucking corkscrew to open the new bottle of wine your mom got us," he grunted, unaware of the ongoing live session.

Smiling, you tried to signal him discreetly with your eyes, conveying the message that you were live and to tread lightly on the conversation. "Yeah? Is that why you sounded like you were tearing up the place?" you playfully responded, taking a sip of the wine.

𝐟𝐚𝐧46: IT IS JOE!!!

𝐟𝐚𝐧47: that’s Joe’s voice

𝐟𝐚𝐧48: I wanna see him 🥺

𝐟𝐚𝐧49: HAHAHHA GOD HE’S SO CUTE.

𝐟𝐚𝐧50: he really wanted that corkscrew.

Little did you both know, your fans were going wild as they eavesdropped on this charming and candid exchange. The confirmation that it was indeed Joe from his distinctive voice sent the comments section into a frenzy of excitement.

"Who are you talking to, baby?" Joe asked, still clueless about the live session happening. "I'm live, bubs" you casually replied, flashing him a reassuring smile.

Joe's eyes widened in shock, realizing that your conversation had been broadcasted to an audience. Stunned and not entirely sure what to say, he glanced at the camera, suddenly aware that people were listening in on your cozy, domestic moment.

The fans, now privy to this unexpected revelation, flooded the comments with an enthusiastic mix of emojis and exclamations.

𝐟𝐚𝐧51: DID YALL HEAR HIS VOICE WHEN HE CALLED HER BABY!?)! IM UNWELL.

𝐟𝐚𝐧52: oh to be called by the Joseph Lee Burrow ‘Baby’

𝐟𝐚𝐧53: 🥰🥰🥰

𝐟𝐚𝐧54: BABY AND BUBS. IM SERIOUSLY NOT OKAY.

"Do you wanna say hi?" you asked Joe softly, well aware of his preference for privacy and aversion to attention. Despite his reservations, he entered the frame for your sake, a warm smile on his face.

"Hi," he greeted the camera before gently moving away, respecting his comfort zone.

The comments section erupted with joy, fans expressing their excitement and admiration for Joe's brief appearance.

𝐟𝐚𝐧55: HIIII!!!

𝐟𝐚𝐧56: OH HOT DAMN THAT MAN FINE 🥵

𝐟𝐚𝐧57: oh lawd.

𝐟𝐚𝐧58: good. god.

𝐟𝐚𝐧59: Y/N IS ONE LUCKKY GIRL WHAT THE HELL.

𝐟𝐚𝐧60: hello, Joe 😫

𝐟𝐚𝐧61: he’s so shy, it’s adorable.

As Joe retreated from the camera, you couldn't help but smile at the delightful chaos that ensued. The comments continued to overflow with love and appreciation, turning the live session into an unforgettable and cherished memory for everyone involved.

“It’s my birthday.” You read a comment. “Happy Birthday, love.”

Yawning and rubbing the tiredness from your eyes, you continued reading more comments from your fans. "You're tired," Joe observed, his voice lower but still audible to the viewers.

You shook your head, looking at him with puppy dog eyes, silently asking for permission to stay up a little longer.

Joe gave you a stern look, his voice barely above a whisper, "It's late, pretty girl." His hands appeared in the video, gently removing a strand of hair from your face.

"That's okay," you replied, trying to stifle another yawn. The fans, now witnessing this endearing interaction, flooded the comments with a mix of supportive and playful messages.

𝐟𝐚𝐧62: when will it be my turn 😩

𝐟𝐚𝐧63: COUPLE FUCKING GOALS.

𝐟𝐚𝐧64: it’s confirmed. Burrow is a SIMP.

𝐟𝐚𝐧65: is this too much to ask?

𝐟𝐚𝐧66: “pretty girl.” Goodbye.

"Don't stay up too late, okay?" Joe finally agreed, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek before moving upstairs to get ready for bed.

"Mm hmm," you nodded, acknowledging his concern for your well-being.

The comments section filled with heart emojis and affectionate messages.

𝐟𝐚𝐧67: girl is better than me, cause if Joe Burrow called me a pretty girl and directed me to bed I would in a heart beat.

𝐟𝐚𝐧68: y/n it’s late go to sleep.

𝐟𝐚𝐧69: 💕💕💕💕💕

𝐟𝐚𝐧70: JOE IS THE ABSOLUTE SWEETEST.

As Joe disappeared from the frame, the live session continued, but there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere. The quiet acknowledgment of the bedtime routine added a touch of reality to the virtual interaction, creating a relatable moment that resonated with your audience.

“Now, where were we?” You smiled at the camera.

The warmth of the comments reflected the shared connection between you, Joe, and your fans, making the live session not just about entertainment but about genuine connection and shared experiences.

dividers: @cafekitsune

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @jackkyhughes @h0e4fictionalme-n @queenmendes @rd14 @scoobydoopoo @estapa94 @karmasabitchybitch @literaturelustrr @toterry @fangirl-madz @atticusismybae @stargaryenx @haydee5010 @porter113 @ryiamarie @starrgir1 @flwries @slafgoalskybaby @unsaidjaelinrose @in-my-body-bag @cixrosie @siutforjjmaybank @youn-jo @nobystanderz @bb-swift @buckystwilight @kidrauhlakaperf @kkrenae @catswag22 @hustler-sinner @asparklysoul @kaydesssssssss @97bngchn @dunningz @whiteleoqueen @austinswhitewolf @wickedfun9 @minkyungseokie @boldlypessimistic @utopiakys

ೃ⁀➷ comment or message me to be added to the tag list :) ˚

₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SUBMIT A REQUESTS AND ASK ME ANYTHING!

: ̗̀➛ requests are always open ♡

-𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲ఌ

[floralpascal]

Something To Live For

Summary: A quiet morning with you shows Ghost the possibility of the life he could have with you - a life he never thought would be his.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 649

Rating: Mature (Series is 18+ only though, mdni!)

Warnings: talk of death, secret relationship, Ghost finally experiencing happiness

A/N: This man deserves some happiness, so here it is. While I love to write Ghost agonizing over his feelings, exploring how he is when he fully embraces them is my absolute favorite

Illicit Indulgences Series Masterlist

There were a lot of things Ghost thought he would never have. 

And you? You were every single one of them. 

For so long, all that existed in Ghost’s life was the brutal reality of war. He gave almost every second of his time to his job. There wasn’t room for someone else in the picture. He barely had the time or the trust to invest in someone unknown. Even if someone gained his trust and was willing to put up with him being gone most of the time, it was too dangerous for them. The people in Ghost’s life always seemed to be put in the line of fire because of him. It was easier to avoid it altogether. 

Besides, he wasn’t delusional. He knew that his chances of surviving to old age in this line of business were slim-to-none. Hell, he was lucky to have even made it this far. His life was on borrowed time. For as grim as it was, he had made peace with that. 

Examining the way the pale golden light of the morning spilled across your features, Simon ran a finger down your spine. You slept like this often now, your body laying on top of his with your warm cheek pressed to his broad shoulder, your arms wrapped around his middle as if you were afraid he would slip away from you. In this position, he could feel the rhythm of your breath carrying his anxieties away with the rise and fall of your chest. Your face was always so soft as you slept against him, the weight of the life you both lived lifted in this state. 

Like this, with your warm bare skin pressed to his and your legs woven together, Simon could hardly tell where he ended and you began. To be honest, he loved the feeling. The world was no longer simply filled with threats and danger, it was filled with the warm and soft embrace of safety.

In a couple hours, he would get up and make you breakfast. He would sit with you at your table as you ate, admiring the rare carefree slump of your shoulders as you leaned your arms against the wooden surface. He would hide a smile behind his morning tea as you contemplated your schedule for the day. He would wrap his arms around you on the couch, listening to the light ring of your laugh at some dumb joke he made about the show you were watching.

Every moment was a glimpse of the life he could have one day. They were glimpses of a life with you, away from all the violence and death. A carefree life. A loving life. 

In the past, he never let himself even consider having something like this. It was unthinkable - something meant for a man who led a much different life than Ghost did. 

Yet, here he laid in your bedroom in your house for the millionth time, his mask long forgotten on your bedroom floor. He didn’t need it here. Not with you. And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t even want it. For the first time in a long time, he was just Simon. Your Simon. 

That was something to live for. This - a lazy morning in your bed with you, without a care for the chaos of the outside world - was something to live for. 

Ghosting the tip of his thumb along the soft skin of your back, he made a silent promise to you: he would live. The life he thought he would never have? He would live to have it with you. He would fight for it, claw his way back from the grave if he had to. Whatever he had to do to keep you safe in his arms, he would do it.

Because you were the best thing to live for.

[bettyfrommars]

I'm on Fire

chapter 18: the ties that bind

masterlist playlist

18+ MDNI

If you've come this far in the series, you know what to expect. No physical violence in this final chapter, but there might be some jealousy, protective/jealous Eddie, and threats. Steve with an OC character, parental Stobin, unprotected sex, oral, and meeting the extended family. Can't say goodby without a glimpse of Charlene. Reader is an artist and a vegetarian, but I try hard to keep away from any physical description.

word count: 15k

official author's note will be at the end of this chapter. I cherish you, my I'm on Fire fam, I'm so grateful for the ride, and I hope you enjoy this one.

"It's a long dark highway and a thin white line Connecting baby, your heart to mine."

-- the ties that bind, Bruce Springsteen

The next morning, a new Henderson opened her eyes to the world. 

Steve was the next one to hold her after her parents, and he hadn’t expected to cry, to have his throat close up around his emotions and choke him when he was told they named her Stevie.  He held her so close but so gentle and he barely noticed how wet his cheeks were until Robin came close and rubbed her palm in circles on his back.

“She kinda looks like me. That’s weird right?” Steve hushed, voice catching in a tearful hiccup. He was already thinking of the tattoo he would get with her name, inside his arm, close to his heart. 

“Yeah, that is weird and impossible, Dingus,” Robin smiled into his shoulder, stroking a loving arc over Stevie’s little infant forehead with her finger.  “But she kinda does.”

The labor had been long, the sun was up, and everyone was exhausted.  Astrid was at the house making breakfast while you and Eddie looked after Oliver.  He insisted on watching Pee-Wee Herman's Big Adventure again, and that was when you learned it was one of Eddie’s favorites as well; he knew every line by heart.  He mimicked Ollie with the chant, “I know you are but what am I, I know you are but what am I?”

And it was only then that you realized why Eddie had made a joke once about violently cutting off your mattress tag, the one that specifically said DO NOT REMOVE. Also, it explained why Steve so ardently wanted to start his own biker gang called Satan’s Helpers.

After breakfast, Eddie took you back to the Hammer to get your car, and even though you didn’t want to socialize, you were also in no mood to be stranded at your place without wheels.  Jackie reminded you that you looked like shit on your way through the smoky haze from the late morning drinkers.  You simply nodded in silent agreement, and it wasn’t so much a nod as your head lazily bobbing on a spring.  Your internal clock was out of whack, and you desperately needed a shower.  A shower and a soak in the healing waters of some type of magical pond that could heal you from the inside out. 

Maybe a month on a beach somewhere.

And then you pictured Eddie in a pair of loud, tropical swim trunks and giggled to yourself.

You were just about to leave the locker room with your paycheck and a few of your things, when tall, blonde Erika pushed in with a concerned look on her face, making you back up.  She shut the door behind her and leaned against it, covering the “Safety in the Workplace” poster. 

“Hey, so, that guy is here looking for you again,” her whisper was urgent.

Your heart sank for a second as the memory of Craig gripped you.  You had to remind yourself that he was long gone.  

But you wondered if a part of him would always be lurking somewhere near, haunting you from beyond the grave.

Your next guess was Chief Hopper, maybe he had more questions for you.  

“What guy?” You were hoping she had a clue, or asked a name, so that you could prepare yourself, doing your best to smooth out the front of your shirt.

She only shrugged.  “He’s older, Paul Newman type. Smells like he’s made of money. This is the third time he’s been here asking about you.”

It still didn’t ring any bells, but you’d only slept a half hour on the couch curled up next to Eddie while Pee-Wee stormed the Alamo looking for his bike.  

You took a slow peek around the corner of the bar from the hallway and saw John Gregson sitting there with a drink in his hand. Full head of salt n’ pepper hair slicked back off his face, wearing one of his signature gray suits. 

Was he by himself?  The way Charlene had been popping up like a bad rash lately, you almost expected to see her there, playing the dutiful wife.  

You hid yourself in the hallway again, wondering if you had it in you to have a conversation with anyone, let alone him.

To say his face “lit up” when he saw you would be an understatement; He looked as if you’d been pulled from the rubble of a burning building, and he thought he would never see you again.  

You found it hard to match the enthusiasm, even though he’d turned out to be a decent guy.  

He stood up from his stool and Shana gave you both a curious look from behind the bar as she poured a shaken martini into a glass. She was wearing one of her long, black wigs that day with Bettie Page bangs.  

“It’s good to see you,” he gestured to the seat next to him, his icy blue eyes shone like the Mediterranean Sea. “It’s been a while.”

You sank one hip onto the padded stool so that one foot was still on the ground.  You didn’t want him to think you were staying for too long.

“I’m sorry I’m so behind on your painting, life has been—”

He put his hand up, palm out to you.  It was his left hand and you noticed that he was not wearing his wedding ring.  

“Please, don’t worry about the painting.  Take all the time you need, that’s not why I’m here.  Can I buy you lunch?”

“I-I…” you fumbled.  “I was just on my way out.”

“A drink then?” He cleared his throat and shifted closer casually so that his knee was touching yours. He swirled his drink in his hand.  “There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about and I didn’t feel it was appropriate to do it over the phone.”

Your anxiety spiked a bit, and it wasn’t as if he was a serial killer or anything, but his sudden shift in proximity gave you pause.  You asked Shana for an iced tea and gestured for him to follow you to one of the more isolated tables against the dark red wall, underneath a framed Led Zeppelin poster.  He pulled your chair out for you before getting settled with his gin and tonic, making sure to use one of the black cocktail napkins as a coaster. 

“I know you’re busy,” he cleared his throat. “So, permit me to get right to the point.” He removed the two stir straws from his drink and put them on the napkin.

 “First of all, I’d like to apologize for my wife. I believe she’s caused you quite a bit of trouble.”

You had not expected that one

His stare was too intense, you had to shift your attention and take a gulp of your drink.

“You see,” he settled back, keeping his forearms on the table.  “I met Charlene when I was barely out of high school, we were together before I made my money, and I always felt like I owed her my blind devotion.  Lately it’s obvious that we only make each other miserable.”

He continued.  “I’m not a stupid man. I always knew about the other boyfriends, not that she made much of an effort to hide it,” he smiled wryly to himself.  “Not to bore you with the details of my failed marriage, but I know that Charlene’s the reason you lost your job at the gallery, and I’d like to rectify that, if I can.”

Realization dawned at his words.  Why hadn’t you put those pieces together earlier? Of course Charlene was the reason you lost your job, she probably threatened to remove her funding and ruin Judith.  

You could barely catch up to what he was saying before he started again.  “I’m opening a gallery in Chicago, and I’d like you to come out and run it.”

You choked and had to cover your mouth with the back of your hand.  “Excuse me?”

John smiled so genuinely at your reaction that the skin around his eyes crinkled.  He undid a button on his suit jacket to get more comfortable. “You’d have full creative license, you’d be able to hire your team, do with it what you wish.  I trust your vision.”

It was that opportunity you’d been dreaming about for years, the one you’d been working toward for almost a decade.  

So easy, just like that.

Here, take it, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

…but was it?

Your head swam, vision tunneling slightly as you glanced around the Velvet Hammer.  You imagined Steve on his stool at the door and Eddie pulling you aside in the hallway to kiss you.  The song Everlong by The Foo Fighters was on, and you thought about how Chicago was over three hours away.  You’d have to move; it was much too far for a commute.

“That’s such a generous offer, I…I don’t know what to say?” 

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” and before you knew what was happening, his hand slid across the table and was on top of your fingers. 

Your eyes flashed to his hand over yours and you sat there shocked while your need to be polite overrode your core instincts. 

“I know there’s a lot to think about,” he continued, removing his hand to cup it around his drink again.  “Of course, I’d pay for all of your moving expenses.  I own a building downtown with an artist loft I think you might be interested in.  You’d have plenty of room to live and paint, start fresh, if you wanted to.”

Start fresh.

You felt like Shana had slipped a psychedelic into your tea, like you were melting into your chair.  Your brain was having a hard time keeping up with the reality of what was being offered.  

He tossed back another sip and wiped the corners of his mouth, looking almost unsure if he should say the next part.  “Charlene and I—” he licked his perfectly straight teeth in contemplation. “---we’ve decided to go our separate ways.  We’re selling the lake house, a few other properties, and she’s planning to move to Hawaii to be near her sister.”

A thought zipped through your mind then. How long had Charlene known she was leaving? Why would she become a partner in The Velvet Hammer and then move to Hawaii?

“That means I’ll be at my condo in Chicago most of the time, unless I’m traveling for business,” he gave you a pointed look again.  “There are so many places I’d love to take you to in the city.  If you are interested, that is.”

“Well,” you laughed nervously. “I’d need to talk to my boyfriend about it. About the job, I mean.  Moving to Chicago. His whole life is here.”

“Certainly,” John nodded, not missing a beat. “You talk to him and when you’re ready, you have my number. The gallery space I’m buying needs work, so I’d like to fly you out there in a week to take a look at it, once you decide.”

You were still staring glassy eyed at the edge of the table after John stood and left the Hammer.  You hadn’t remembered to breathe in god knew how long, so you tried that, letting out a hard exhale that made a cocktail napkin go flying off the table.

Would Eddie move with you? Visit you on the weekends? The latter seemed more likely but also not, considering how demanding his work schedule was.  Katie told you that Robin had asked her to move in, and you were overjoyed for her.  She’d be paying her share of the rent and utilities for the next month, but after that you’d either need to find a smaller place or a new roommate because you couldn’t afford your duplex on a Velvet Hammer salary.  

One week was all you had.

Did you even need a week? Surely you knew your answer.

—-------

The tires on the tow truck screeched to a stuttering halt out on a Hawkins back road lined with cornfields.

Behind the wheel, Eddie idled there, right in front of that familiar white picket fence around the big yard and the farmhouse with a porch swing and a red barn in back.

Eddie knew the details of the old Ferguson place by heart, it had been his dream house ever since he was in high school and used to take long rides on his bike to clear his head.  The couple that had spent their life raising a family there were in their 80’s now, and he’d heard through the grapevine that they were relocating to a retirement community.  To a smaller place that was easier to care for.  All of their children were grown and lived far away.

The newest addition to the house was where his eyes fell.  

His attention fixed on the sign at the end of the driveway for a long while, heart thudding in his chest.

The old Ferguson Farmhouse was for sale.

—---

The next day was the Welcome Home Baby Stevie barbeque at Steve’s and he had a blue “Kiss the Cook” apron on and a spatula in his bandaged hand when you and Eddie arrived.  He wore an elastic bracelet made of colorful plastic beads around his wrist that you assumed was a new gift from Oliver.  The sky was bright blue, almost blinding, and the air was crisp. 

“You sure you’re okay?” Eddie asked on the way up the driveway to Robin and Steve’s backyard where the lawn had been neatly mowed and edged.  “Anything you want to talk about?”

You hated keeping things from him, but you had no idea how to bring up John’s offer, or if you even wanted to mention it.  Eddie had invited you over to his place the night before, but you’d told him you needed some time alone to get to bed early.  Turns out that being alone with your thoughts only made it worse.

“No, I’m fine my love, I promise,” you leaned into him.  “I’m just tired.”

He put his arm around your shoulders to scoop you closer and kiss your ear.  “I’m gonna take care of you tonight.  Make you a bath, pour you some wine, kiss you all over.  How does that sound?”

“It sounds—” you felt emotions water your eyes suddenly and you blinked it away as quickly as you could.  “That sounds perfect.”

You felt guilty that you were even considering John’s offer, but how could you not? A very hopeful part of you said that both were a possibility, that you could keep Eddie and have your dream job in the city. But how? You couldn’t take Eddie away from Wayne and Oliver and his business, you would never ask that of him.  

“Is Wayne coming?” You asked, noticing you did not see his truck.  Also, your thoughts were racing again and you needed a distraction.

“He’ll be here later,” Eddie assured you.  “Astrid is picking him up on her way over.  Max and Lucas stopped by the garage for a visit and I didn’t want to disrupt the reunion.”

You felt a bit embarrassed at the mention of his longtime friend Max, only because you’d been made to believe that she was a mysterious redhead that Eddie was having an affair with not too long ago.

Thanks to Charlene.

You imagined that Hawkins would be a much better place without her lurking around every corner.  Was there a chance that Judith would take you back on at Moon River Gallery?  No, you had no desire to go crawling back to that place. Unless a new gallery opened, or your art took off to celebrity status, you’d be waitressing at the Hammer and squirreling away your tips for the foreseeable future.

But, you’d have Eddie.

You’d been spacing out so hard, you barely realized that Robin was standing in front of you, offering to take the sack with a Tupperware full of homemade potato salad and hamburger buns. Eddie was carrying your veggie burger patties that he bought especially for the occasion, and the fixings to make tofu skewers.  You told him you were a vegetarian once, and you never had to remind him again.  

“You good?” Robin asked, noting the way you shook your head a few times to come back to reality. Katie came up behind Robin to place her hands on her girlfriend’s hips before she moved over to your side.

“Have a beer with me?” Katie asked softly, reading the weariness in your slightly hunched shoulders.  

It was officially fall, but the weather was warm for Indiana in late September.  Eddie had on his Iron Maiden concert tee under his jacket from their 1985 World Slavery tour and black converse with his worn jeans, and he took his leather off and threw it on a lawn chair as he walked over to the grill.

“You better leave the hard stuff to me,” he said to Steve, shifting his gaze accusatory to grill.  The last time he let Steve grill your veggie burger, he’d charred it within an inch of its life.  

“Have at it,” Steve dusted his hands together.  “I have to go check on my pie in the oven.”

“You baked a pie?” Eddie gawked at him like he had hornets crawling out of his ears.  

“Well, Astrid made it,” he pinched a few sunflower seeds out of the front pocket of his apron and popped them in his mouth, chewing as he spoke. “It’s cherry,” he bobbed his eyebrows up and down a few times suggestively, and Eddie scoffed, elbowing him out of the way so that he could put his skewers down on the folding table.

You were just about to take the first sip of your beer when a man’s voice that was not familiar called over from the driveway.  

“There’s that long-haired freak I’ve been looking for.”

The skin on your arms prickled with gooseflesh and you spun around, thinking there was about to be some sort of trouble. 

Slightly unrealistic to think the worst, but you were understandably alert.

There at the edge of the lawn stood a tall, handsome guy you’d never laid eyes on before, maybe in his late 20’s, and he had a Coffin Kings cut on that was very similar to the one’s Eddie and Steve wore.  At his side, holding his hand was an adorable redhead. Her long hair was pulled through the back of a baseball cap, but you noted that the bright candy color was deeply familiar.  

You turned to see Eddie’s reaction like you were watching a tennis match.  

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he beamed.  “Look what the cat dragged in, "and he stopped what he was doing to make his way over with his arms out and the two hugged, giving each other hearty pats on the back.

“Max!” Robin squealed, practically doing a cartwheel in that direction.  You and Katie fell back and stood shoulder to shoulder, watching the group reconnect in a way that was very familial.  

Lucas and Max had been together since high school, you learned, and Lucas was a member of the Coffin Kings Indianapolis chapter.  The song Love Spreads by The Stone Roses played from Robin's portable boombox on the steps as the new arrivals meandered in to be with the rest of the gang and assimilated with ease.  

Eddie rested his hand on your lower back to introduce you, and instead of a handshake, Max went in for a hearty hug, and in your ear, she said, “Eddie loves you so much, I’ve been dying to meet you.”

When she pulled back to meet your eyes, you nodded, swallowing hard.  “I’ve heard so much about you,” you told her, and then Max shot a look at Eddie and made a crack about how she hoped it was all good things that you’d heard.

They were even more interested to meet Katie, being that Robin had not been serious about anyone since before Oliver was born.  Just then, the Oliver in question came bursting out of the house flying his hot dog bun through the air like a plane, making engine noises.  

By the time Dustin and Suzie came by with their new baby, the smell of burgers charring on the grill filled the air and you helped Steve bring some more chairs out to the lawn.  Eddie was taking much care to keep your vegetarian stuff away from the meat, and you couldn’t help but notice with deep adoration.

Astrid had a lot on her mind.  So much so that she didn’t have it in her to make the usual banter with Wayne that she enjoyed when they were together.

“You okay, darlin’?” Wayne turned to her in the truck on the way over.

“Oh,” she tucked a thick swatch of dark hair behind her ear. “You know, just thinking about how excited Steve must be about the new baby.”

There was a distinct melancholy in her voice.  One of the reasons the relationship between her and Steve had never gone any further than besties who make love was her refusal to take away his chance at a big family.  She was barely 21 when a doctor told her she’d never be able to conceive. Well, technically he said there was a small chance—a hairline percentage—but that it “would take an actual miracle”---those were his words.  

She loved Steve too much to not let him be a dad.  He was made for that life.  Ever since he was a teenager, he’d known he wanted to be a father, and once he had Oliver, she knew she’d done the right thing.  She’d tried to keep their relationship platonic time and time again, but in the end, the chemistry between them always proved to be too strong.  

She’d decided that she would love him until he found someone else, and then she would continue to love him from the shadows.  She’d given her heart long ago, and with him it would stay.  

“Hell, look at the head of hair on that kid,” Wayne said when Suzie introduced him to her daughter.  He gave a crooked grin and stroked a finger along the back of her tiny, exposed hand.  

At that, Dustin took his cap off and swiped a hand through his unruly mane.  “Thank god the rest of her looks take after her mother.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Lucas grumbled, thumping his friend in the arm.  

Steve had his back to the crowd when they came in and Astrid spanked him on the bum on her way up the stairs to the kitchen.

He spun on his heel and was quick to cage his arms around her so she could only squirm.  His face was flushed and glowing.  “You meet the kid?”

“I did,” normally, she would’ve kissed him, but instead she pulled back a bit, tilting her chin away.  “She’s so beautiful, Steve.”

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I—” she knew she was a fool to think he wouldn’t be able to read her face, a fool to think he couldn’t read her like a book after all of those years.  

Steve frowned, examining her face for a clue to her distress.  

Astrid’s stomach felt like she’d swallowed a lead weight.  

She hadn’t decided if she should tell him or not.

About the secret she’d been carrying with her for a few days.  

15 years, that’s how long she’d been in love with him.

Back when he was 19 and she was 23.

They’d known each other since they were little kids.

“I need to talk to you later,” she told him.

Steve dropped his arms from around her but held her hand.  “You can’t tell me now?”

She’d be 38 in December.

“Later, okay?” She winked at him to ease his suffering, and then made her way into the house, knowing that he stood there the whole time and watched her go. 

But later that day never came.  

Wayne wanted to get back and rest before his chemo treatment, and Dustin and his family only stayed for about an hour as they were all understandably still exhausted and wanting to recover at home.  

Astrid waved goodbye to Steve on her way out, and Steve stood up from his chair thinking he’d get a kiss, or at least a hug—but then she was gone.  

He tried not to think too much of it.  If he’d done something to upset her, she was never shy about letting him know.  Maybe she was tired of socializing, maybe she needed a break from him.

Lord knows he wished he could take a break from himself.  

Eddie looked over at where you stood talking with Max and Robin, and he recalled the conversation he’d had with Wayne a few days earlier.

“I don’t have to tell you you found a good one,” Wayne said from the couch in his trailer while Eddie sat next to him.  “I think you know they don’t come around very often.”

“Oh believe me, I know,” Eddie raked a hand through his hair, brushing his bangs off his forehead one, two, three times.  “I keep thinking one day she’s going to wake up and realize she could do a lot better.”

“You’ve done better than you give yourself credit for,” his uncle returned in a low, steady voice. 

When the next words came, Eddie felt a tightness in his throat:

“I’m proud of you, son.”

Wayne had a hard time leaving the house the day after his treatments, so Eddie always came by to bring him lunch and make sure he had everything he needed.  One day he came by to check on Wayne and found that you were already there, doing his dishes for him.

He’d never been with anyone who cared about the people in his life like that.  

Back at the barbeque, you slipped up next to him and planted your lips on his bicep, breathing in the sandalwood and leather of his scent.  “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Since you asked,” he smirked.  “I was thinking how I wish I’d met you a lot sooner.”

“How much sooner?” You batted eyes at him once he turned to face you. “In high school?”

Eddie made a yuck face.  “No, you would not have given me a chance in high school.  I would’ve been a lovesick puppy, but you probably wouldn’t have even known I existed.”

“Are you kidding?” You stuck the tip of your tongue out between your teeth, examining him.  “I would’ve jumped your bones so fast.”

“So fast, huh?” He chuckled, taking you by the hips. “What about now?”

He pulled you in and you hummed against his lips, trying not to get too horny right there in front of the guests.  

Lucas and Max would be in town for a couple days, so you and Eddie made plans to meet up at the Velvet Hammer when you were off work on Tuesday.  By the time the sun went down, all of the visitors were gone, and you were happy to head home as well after helping with some cleanup.  

“Robin and I can take care of it,” Katie nudged you away from trying to wash out a casserole dish at the sink. “You get out of here and go rest.  Make Eddie rub your feet or something.”

You both stopped what you were doing to look at each other.  

The way you were searching your friend’s face made her turn to give you her full attention.  In the background, you could hear Steve trying to convince Oliver to get his pajamas on and brush his teeth in a sing-song voice.  

“I can’t believe how much has happened in these past few months,” you still had soap bubbles popping on your wet hands and you slid them absently along the thighs of your jeans. 

Katie gave a thoughtful sniff.  “I think about it a lot,” she mused. “About that night on the couch at our place when you first told me about the guy who picked you up in the tow truck, and then meeting the boys at The Hideout and then—”

She cringed and covered her face with a dish towel, remembering her “date” with Steve.  “---it feels so surreal that Steve and I actually…well…I don’t want to think about it.  It’s too weird.”

“But then you and Robin found each other again,” you offered, thinking back to that first barbecue at their house when Eddie had to take off suddenly for secretive Coffin Kings business.  

It was on the tip of your tongue to tell your friend about the offer from John Gregson.  Katie knew you better than most people and you could always trust her advice to be on the mark.  

For some reason, you wanted to cry, just drop to your knees and start bawling right there on the kitchen floor.  For no one reason just

Everything

Katie caught the way your jaw moved like you were just about to say something, but then Eddie’s hands were snaking around to hold your back flush to his chest.  Your hair caught on his beard stubble when he leaned in, warm breath at your ear.  “You ladies need any help in here?”

You closed your eyes; you were glad to have him there. Glad to be in his arms, glad to know, in your heart, that he would always try his best for you.

But you were the one keeping a secret.  

Robin joined Katie at the sink and told you both to take a hike, lovingly.  

Steve came into the kitchen after you were both gone and the engine of Eddie’s Chevelle could be heard thundering down the road.

The first thing he did was pick up the beige, wall-mounted phone and call Astrid.  He stood there for a while with the receiver pressed to his ear and his other arm folded over his chest before he held the mouthpiece out in front of him and stared at it.

“She’s not answering,” he mumbled loud enough that the girls could hear.  

“Maybe she’s at Wayne’s? Did you check there?” Robin offered; her hair worn up in a haphazard ponytail.

Steve checked the clock first to make sure he wasn’t bothering Uncle too late, but it was barely 8:30 and he was probably up in his recliner watching M*A*S*H reruns.  

Wayne answered and they exchanged a few words, but then when Steve hung up again, he was quiet, contemplatively so.

“What did he say?” Robin asked impatiently, drying some silverware with a checkered towel.

Steve frowned.  “He said she dropped him off almost two hours ago and told him she was going home.”

He tried her house one more time and, again, no answer.  He let it ring five times but disconnected once her answering machine clicked on.  

“Maybe she went to bed early,” Katie shrugged.  “And turned the ringer off.”

Steve knew better; Astrid barely slept.  Normally, not being able to get a hold of her would not phase him, but something about the way she’d been acting that night set an alarm off in his gut.  

Outside, there was the sound like a firecracker bomb going off that shook the house.  Robin yelped and Steve bolted to the window to yank the yellow curtain back to see where it had come from.  

He got there just in time to see a streak of lightning crack the dark sky and a drizzle of rain hit the glass.  “Oh shit, good thing Eddie came in the Chevelle,” the droplets turned into a downpour as he stood there.  

“Looks like a hell of a storm is brewing.”

—----

Earlier that day, Charlene Gregson marched out of Murray Bauman’s office with her lawyer in tow.  She wore her oversized sunglasses and no expression on her face as they went down in the elevator and exited into the austere lobby.  She looked like a million bucks, which was probably the cost of all of the gold and diamond jewelry she had on.  

Outside on the busy street, her personal chauffeur was waiting by the Towncar to open the door for her while her lawyer, a pit-bull of a man named Saul, got in on the other side to slide in next to her.  Billy was out there waiting on his bike, to make sure no one bothered her on their way out.  He flicked his cigarette to the ground and revved the engine, angling to fall in line behind the Towncar.

“You sure this is what you want?” Saul posed the question to her as he slammed his door shut. They’d just thrown a lot of money at Murray and had him sign official documents.

Charlene sounded annoyed.  “It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it? The deal is done.”

He continued. “I suppose I’m still trying to wrap my head around why you would—” 

“I don’t pay you to ask personal questions,” she sniffed. “Just make sure there’s a smooth transition.  I don’t want to be having a cocktail on the beach and find out that you fumbled something, and I’m forced to fly back out here.”

The town car sailed into traffic and the two sat in silence for a few minutes until Charlene stared out the window at the passing buildings on their way back to the lake house. 

 “Have you ever been in love, Saul?” 

He was confused by the question and tapped his foot a few times.  “I can’t really say I have.” 

After recent events, and everything that he’d been tasked to do in her name for the benefit of someone else made him wonder. “What about you?”

“Only once,” she pressed her red lips together, eyes unblinking behind her sunglasses.  “And once will have to be enough.”

Saul assumed she meant her soon to be ex husband John, and so he left it at that.  

—-------

In a matter of seconds, the rain was coming down in sheets and the windshield wipers on the Chevelle were flapping back and forth at supernova speed.

“We could go back to my apartment if you want,” Eddie turned the Faith No More song down on the radio so that he could be heard over the rain.  “But your place is cozier, and I know both are fairly small but I’ve been wanting to talk to you about—”

“I think I want to stay at my place tonight,” you blurted it out, keeping your attention fixed on the dash, staring at nothing. “Alone, if that’s alright.” 

You could see in your peripheral vision that he turned to look at you, and you offered a reflexive smile, shoulders hunched a bit as if you were trying to fold  in on yourself.  

He smoothed his palm around the steering wheel and tried not to let the sensitive side of him that had been abandoned his whole life jump to conclusions.  Not everyone needed to sleep next to the person they loved every night; you wanting space was totally reasonable and had nothing to do with your feelings for him.

Right?

Just in case, he decided to make sure.  “Was it something I said or? Cause if there’s an issue between us, you know you can talk to me.”

For some reason, his insistence to have healthy communication irritated you.  Possibly because you knew he was right and you should put it all out on the table and talk to him, but you didn’t know how.  Your brain had barely been able to process the offer from John, let alone put the whole thing into words.

“It’s nothing you did,” you said softly.  “I just need time to think.”

Something about your tone and choice of words made his heart rate increase.  “Think about what?”

“Just stuff Eddie, okay? I don’t want to talk about it right now!” You snapped at him, for the first time ever.  

After everything with Erika and Charlene and Melanie and thinking he’d been cheating on you, you’d never lost your temper with him, and the two of you had never had a fight.  As much as you knew that arguments and disagreements were a very normal part of intimate relationships, you still felt like shit the second the words came out with such vitriol.

There it was, Eddie’s biggest fear: you were pulling away from him.  

He’d suffocated you just like he was prone to do.  He was “too much”, and now you were getting sick of him.  

For the next few minutes of the drive to your place, neither of you said a word.  

You because you didn’t want to take your confusion and anxiety out on Eddie, and Eddie because he didn’t want to sound like a whiny, needy bitch and make things worse.    

He parked up in your driveway to get you close to the door, but he kept the engine running to let you know he was honoring your wish to drop you off and let you be.  

You took a deep breath and flipped the manual lock up with two fingers.

“Wait, let me—” he was about to get out and come around to hold his coat out for you so that you wouldn’t get wet, but you were too quick for him.

“I’ll be fine, goodnight.” you were soaked the second you stepped out, fumbling in the pocket of your bag to find your keys.

“I love you,” Eddie’s voice was barely loud enough to be heard over the weather.

“Love you too,” you said quickly, and then you were bolting for the house, wishing you’d left the porch light on.  

Once you were inside, you clicked the deadbolt shut and watched the beam of Eddie’s headlights retreat.

This was ridiculous.  You were being ridiculous.  

There’s a beautiful man out there who treats you better than you’ve ever been treated in your whole life.  

You threw your bag on the floor and undid the lock to jerk open the door again.

You stumbled out into the rain.  “Eddie wait!”

But all you could see were his taillights as he pulled onto the main street and drifted away.  

—------

Back at her house, Astrid let the phone ring.

At one point, she had her hand on it, ready to pick up, but then decided against it.  

It was impossible for her to be fake with Steve, but she also wasn’t ready to be as forthcoming as she needed to be.  

She stood at the table and looked at the paperwork from the doctor's office one more time before she made her way over to the couch and hugged a pillow to her chest to let the tears fall hot and heavy.  

She had her eyes closed, so she didn’t notice the lights approaching in the driveway or hear Steve shouting her name from the sidewalk as he stood out in the rain.

He’d borrowed Robin’s car to ease his mind and make sure Astrid was okay.  What if she had slipped and hit her head or something? What if she was there with another dude? Also, a possibility under their “don’t ask, don’t tell” relationship agreement.    

The white t-shirt he had on was soaked through, making the tattoos underneath look like they were a design imprinted on the material that hugged his muscles.  

He banged on the door with the side of his fist and shouted her name again. 

By then, Astrid could hear him, but she stayed curled on the couch and waited in vain for him to give up and leave.  

—--

Eddie scowled to himself as he parked the Chevelle in one of the garages and made his way across the parking lot and up the steps to his apartment, shaking his wet hair like a dog.  He could hear a few of the guys partying in the clubhouse, and he thought about joining them, but realized his spirits were too low to be social. There was a punching bag in the back office where he normally did his workouts to burn off steam, but he wasn’t in the mood for that either.  

He told himself he would check on you first thing in the morning, but then it occurred to him that you might not want to hear from him right away.  He wanted to respect your wishes, your boundaries.  

He didn’t want to smother you.

On the nightstand next to his phone was the card for the real estate agent he’d visited the day before.  There was a room on the second floor of the Ferguson farmhouse with a view of the big backyard and he imagined setting some easels up to make it a place for you to paint.  It had a big living room with a fireplace and a workshed in the barn.  He wanted to talk to you about it, to ask if maybe you could see yourself living there.  With him.  

But now he wondered if things were moving too fast.  

He crossed his arms over his body and took his shirt off in the bathroom mirror.  He rubbed a hand down his stomach, noting the areas of skin that were not covered in inked designs.  The fanged bat with wings spread wide on his chest, the dragon design on his bicep, the grim reaper on his forearm.  A crude dagger made to look like it pierced his skin just under his rib cage that said, “true friends stab you in the front”.  There were other bits of traditional biker flash scattered around that Steve had doodled on him over the past decade.  On his other forearm was a memorial tattoo for his mother with her name, the year she died, and an angel statue with eyes that dripped blood, surrounded in roses and thorns, and the thorns came down over the back of his hand.  It was done in a way so that the bats that had been inked there earlier were still visible.  

He was barely 15 when another friend inked HELLFIRE on his knuckles.  It was done with a homemade tattooing gun like the ones used in prison, and the letters had to be redone later because they were basically chicken scratches.  One of the other earliest ones was the skull with a snake through it on his opposite bicep with his nickname “War Machine” underneath.  

Some days, he wanted to get them all removed and start over.

Other days, he wanted to go balls to the wall like Steve and be inked from ear to foot.  

He threw his soaked shirt in the hamper and was just about to grab a beer out of the small fridge near his desk to take into the shower with him—

but then there was a knock at the door.  

At first, he thought it was one of the other Coffin Kings, trying to drag him down to get plastered with them, but then he noticed that the rapping of knuckles was soft, cautious even.  

“Eddie?”

His head snapped around at the sound of the voice.

It was you. 

—------

Steve held his finger on the doorbell, relentlessly.  “Astrid, if you don’t answer the goddamn door, I’m gonna break it down!  You know I will!”

Astrid wiped her face, flapping her hand to dry her eyes and cheeks to the best of her ability.  She still had on the flowy, floral, maxi dress with an empire waist that she’d worn at the barbeque, and she wrapped a black shawl around her shoulders as she stomped begrudgingly to the door. 

Just as she was about to reach up to unlock the safety chain, there was a loud thud from Steve’s foot slamming into the wood, vibrating the hinges.

“Steve stop!” She yelled, fussing with the second lock on the doorknob.  

She yanked the door back and there he was: soaked to the bone. 

There was only a short awning over her front steps, and so he was standing as close to the frame as possible while more thunder rumbled in the distance. His wet hair had flopped into his eyes, and he swiped it back with a twist of his head, spitting to the sidewalk as he did so.  

His expression was one of anger at first, but then it melted into confusion when he could tell right away that she had been crying.  “Why aren’t you answering your phone?”

“This is a bad time,” she stayed blocking the entrance, although the yearning in his eyes was actively testing her resolve.

“The hell it is?” He pushed. He shifted to see behind her, as if there was someone or something she was hiding.  “You’re upset, I can tell.  Let me in.”

“No.” That was her answer, but Steve wasn’t having it.

He stomped up onto the threshold, wet hair dripping onto her face as he closed in, bracing his hand on the door so that she couldn’t shut it.  “Why don’t you want to see me?”

She tried to look everywhere but his face, but then his hand caught her chin and guided her eyes up to meet his. 

 “Talk to me,” he whispered from lips dotted in water droplets.  

There was a tug of war going on in her heart, and in the end, Steve won.  He always did.  

She didn’t invite him in properly, she just turned on her heel and left the door open, knowing he would follow her into the living room.  

His boots squeaked from all the moisture on her hardwood floors.  He always liked to take his shoes off when he came to see her, but it was too late for that.  He found her sitting on the couch in the dark, but he could only see the outline of her curly hair.

“Why are you sitting here without any lights on?” He reached down and flicked on a tiny wicker lamp that was on the nearby bookshelf.  

“You ask a lot of questions,” she mumbled.

He pinched the front of his shirt to peel it from his body and flapped it a few times as if that would dry it out. “What did you want to talk to me about at the barbeque?”

“You’re soaking wet,” she got a good look at him in the light and suddenly felt bad that she’d made him wait out there.

“No kidding?” He snorted sarcastically. 

“You left some of your clothes here last time. I folded them in the third drawer,” she hugged the pillow.  “Get into something dry and then we can talk.”

He stripped down to his underwear right there in front of her, staring at her the entire time, as if he was worried she would bolt and try to hide from him. His patchwork of colorful tattoos was a jumble of loud expressions of his aggression and passion.  In honor of his nickname Taz, he had several Tasmanian devils doing various things including riding a motorcycle and one on the back of his arm giving onlookers the middle finger.  The ones on the front of his thighs were all self-done when he was just a kid, practicing his craft.  When he was a teenager, he used to tease her and call her “Asteroid” and just above his knee was an asteroid with a fire tail crashing toward a heart-shaped earth.  Besides the Seek and Destroy tattoo on the side of his throat, his skin was full of phrases, including the big “FTW” letters in an arc under his ribcage that stood for “Fuck the World”.   

He went into her bedroom and brought out a pair of jeans and a blue t-shirt with “Gary’s Plumbing” advertised on the front pocket.  He dressed in front of her as well, keeping a relentless eye.

“You really are ridiculous, you know that?” She put her chin in her palm and waited patiently for the show to be over.  

He flapped his arms out to his sides like a little kid waiting for approval on his outfit. “Okay, beautiful. I’m dry.  Time to spill the beans.”

“Can you sit down, please?” Her heart flopped in her chest as she considered the words that were about to come out of her mouth and the effect, they would have on him.

In Steve’s experience, when someone asked you to sit down before they told you something, it was always their attempt to soften the blow of bad news.  “Why can’t you just tell me now? You’re freaking me out, babe.”

“Steve,” She pleaded sternly.  “Trust me, I need you to sit down for this.”

—------

Eddie barely had time to greet you before you were pushing by him to get into the studio apartment.  You were hugging yourself, and anxiety had your stomach in knots.  

“I need to talk to you about something,” you gushed.  

Eddie stood at the door, keeping his back to you while he locked it.  He was shirtless, dark hair dripping down the pale muscles that flexed under his flesh.  

You looked around, trying to decide if you should sit or stand when your gaze landed on the painting you’d done for him after that first time you met.  He had it displayed front and center, right above his desk on the main navy-blue wall, as if it were the most important piece in the room.

You were pacing when he turned toward you, the wheels in your mind spinning.

When he got closer, you stepped further away, but he caught your wrist.  “Hey, why can’t you look at me? What’s going on?”  His voice was sterner than he’d intended it to be.  

“I can look at you,” you made yourself meet his stare to prove his point, but it was difficult. You felt like he could see right through you; all of your doubts, all of your fears and insecurities. 

“Sit,” he directed you over to the end of the bed, facing the small sitting area with where there was a couch and a coffee table in front of an old Zenith tv.

Next to you, the mattress sank under his weight, but in your mind, you were somewhere else.  

“So, is this it?” He released a heavy breath and started to play with one of the rings on his hand, pulling it up the finger and then pushing it back down to the knuckle.

“What do you mean?”

It was he who couldn’t look at you now.  “Are you breaking up with me?”

“No!” You blurted it, eyebrows pinching together in frustration with the way you couldn’t get the words out.  “That’s not…I didn’t mean…I just have a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

A rush of endorphins filled him with temporary relief while he waited for your next words.

You stretched your neck from side to side, swallowed hard, and then you told him.

You told him about John’s offer to run your own gallery in Chicago, the opportunity to have the artists loft you’d always dreamed of.  You picked at a piece of skin on the side of your thumb as you talked.

“But I said I needed to talk to you about it first,” you added.

Eddie got to his feet and went over to look out the window over the garage parking lot. “Sounds like a pretty sweet deal,” he mumbled.  

You weren’t breaking up with him, but you were, in fact, leaving him, which was much the same thing.

“Well, it’s complicated,” you said, watching as he went over to snatch his pack of smokes and lighter off of the coffee table.  

“Doesn’t sound complicated to me,” the cigarette bobbed between his pinched lips as he talked, cupping his hand to light the end.  “Sounds like you already know what your answer is.”

“I wouldn’t be talking to you about it if I’d already made my decision,” you countered.  “I want to know what you think.”

“Well,” he scoffed, exhaling a sharp plume of smoke down his chin. His eyes were much darker now, almost black.  “No one in their right mind would choose to stay in Hawkins, not with an opportunity like that on the table.” 

He almost added, “no loser biker boyfriend is worth it,” but decided it was not the right time to be self-deprecating. 

“But I like it here,” you mused. “More than I ever thought I would.”

“We’ll always be here, trust me,” he was trying to remain cool, but his exterior was cracking.  “So, this John guy has been stalking you or something? Getting you to do this painting for him was one thing, but now he’s waiting for you at your job to get you to what? ----Move to Chicago to be closer to him?”.

The smoke came out his nose that time and the muscles in his throat tensed.  He had a bad feeling about that guy before, but he wanted to respect your business ventures and give you space.

The change in Eddie’s demeanor made you wonder if that was the time for full transparency.  In the end, you’d made a promise not to have any secrets from each other and you wanted to keep your word.

“There was mention of that, yes,” you said cautiously, nibbling at your lip.  

“Mention of what, exactly?” Eddie scowled, cocking his head to the side.

“He said there were lots of places he wanted to take me to in the city,” you recited the words cautiously.

Eddie laughed and threw his head back; it was much more of a crazy, maniacal cackle.  “Oh shit, maybe I should pay him a little visit?  See if pretty boy wants to show me the city too.”

“Eddie.”

“What did you tell him?” He was fuming now, grinding his jaw as he stabbed the half-smoked cig into the ashtray.  

“I didn’t tell him anything,” you repeated, but in a much louder voice.  “I said I needed to talk to you, my boyfriend.”

“He knows you have a boyfriend, and he still pulled that shit?”  Eddie bit the tip of his tongue between his teeth with a grimace.  “That fucker needs to get rolled.”

“Eddie!” 

“No, I’m serious,” he was yelling now, but more about the situation than at you.  “I gave him a chance to be cool, to be a gentleman, and he fucked it up. I told you babe, dudes like that, with money, think they can take whatever they want.  Well, he can’t have you, unless it’s over my dead fucking body.”

“Well, it’s my fucking choice, and I don’t want to be with him, I want to be with you, asshole,” You shot to your feet.  

You’d realized something on your way over to his place and it was that you really did not want to leave Hawkins.  

Every rational bone in your body told you to take the offer and run, but the other bones in your body, the not so rational ones, told you that you’d finally found your family and a place you belonged.  

“Listen to me,” you grabbed him by the arm and made him turn, his hair flying over his shoulder.  “I don’t want to take the job, okay? I want to stay here.  With you.”

Eddie nostrils flared.  It was taking all of his strength not to go out looking for that pencil pushing dweeb Gregson.  But if he actually got his hands on him in the heat of the moment, he was afraid of what he would do.  

“I’ll move with you,” Eddie wet his lips, a new idea flashing behind his eyes.

“With me? To Chicago?”

“Yeah, no, I could make it work. Hire another manager here, another tow truck driver. Come back and check in a couple times a month,” he walked by you as he talked, plucking at his lower lip with thumb and forefinger. “I could get a job at a garage in Chicago, easy. There’s even a King’s chapter there. I could get Bones to patch me in.”

“What about Wayne? And Oliver?” 

“We’ll come back to visit,” Eddie nodded at the plan that was forming in his head.  “Steve and Robin and the kid love Chicago.  Maybe we can get a place with a spare bedroom for when they come up.”

“But what about—”

“I know this means a lot to you, this opportunity,” he cut you off.  “I know I’m a dirty, biker asshole, but I’m not going to be the reason you give up on a dream.” He went over to the dresser drawers and pulled out a Pabst Blue Ribbon shirt to pull on over his head.  The armholes were cut wide, and the collar was frayed.  

“But what if I don’t want to live in Chicago?”

Eddie squinted like he hadn’t heard you correctly.  “What now?”

You bit the inside of your cheek in contemplation.  “I’ve been thinking that I don’t really care about that world anymore, the art world I mean.”

“You don’t want to paint anymore?” He appeared hurt by this notion.  

“No, I do, I will always paint,” you corrected with a wave of your hand.  “But the retail side of it, the snobby clientele, the stress, I’m not sure it makes me happy anymore.  Not sure if it ever did.”

It was Eddie who took a seat that time, perching on the back of the sofa. You could tell he was trying to understand, but the information was coming at him a bit too fast.

“I don’t want to work at the Hammer for the rest of my life, either, but it’s okay for now,” you were working through the revelations as you spoke them aloud.  “I have a friend who is starting her own greeting card company, and she wants me to do some artwork for her.  Little by little, I can make a living while still doing what I love.”

Eddie’s thoughts drifted back to the farmhouse, and how much he felt like it fit the both of you.  

“Are you telling me you chose Hawkins? Really?”

You went over to situate your hips between his knees and brushed his bangs off his forehead.  “No, I’m saying I choose you, asshole,” a smile tugged the side of your mouth up.  “Hawkins is a bonus, yes, but I will always choose you.”

Foreheads met then, and Eddie forced out a long-held breath from between tight lips.  “I don’t want you to wake up one day and realize you made a mistake.”

“The only thing I regret is that I didn’t get to jump your bones in high school.”

He chuckled, repeating what he’d asked at the barbeque earlier.  “Well, what about now?”

In the back of his mind he was thinking, “that John Gregson is still a dead man,” but he kept it to himself.

—----

Steve flopped down next to Astrid on the fluffy, tan sofa so violently it was as if he’d been thrown there by a force of nature.  He scooted closer and pawed at her hand so that she would intertwine her fingers with his.  He was reminded of all of those times as a teenager when he would get hurt on purpose just so she would patch him up.  She was a couple years older and wanted nothing to do with him back then, but nevertheless he melted under the tender touch of her attention every time.  

“I’m all ears,” he prodded eagerly when she did not speak right away.  

Keeping Steve’s hand with hers, Astrid turned to face him and tucked her bare feet underneath her, adjusting the stretch length of her dress.  

Steve watched the way her long hair fell across her neck and ample cleavage. 

“Okay,” she cleared her throat. “What I need to tell you is—”

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, perpetually distracted.

“Steve?”

“Sorry, go ahead.”

Another big inhale and then: “These past few weeks, I could tell something was…off.  I thought it was early menopause because I missed my period.”

Steve stared blankly, trying not to get turned on watching her lips move.  

She let her gaze fall to their hands clasped on Steve’s knee, wondering if any of it was real, or if she was still dreaming. 

“Is it cancer?”  He dared to ask, squeezing her hand.  “Because I’m not going to let anything happen to you.  I’ll find the best doctor at gunpoint if I have to.”   

“Steve!” 

“What? You’re making me crazy! Tell me everything's okay?”

“I’m not dying, Steve.”

“Well then what is it? I’ve been going out of my mind and here you are—”

“I’m pregnant.”

His body had been moving, vibrating even, but it all came to a complete halt at that.  

As if he’d been flash-frozen on the spot.

A mannequin of himself; mouth open, one eyebrow up. 

He shook his head, confused.  “Hold on, what? But I thought you said that you—”

She played with the hem of her shawl.  “I was told it was impossible.  I was told it would take a miracle.”

“Wait a minute, so—” he gulped and then leaned forward to search her face, one arm scooping behind her.  Her eyes were glossy again, on the verge of another wellspring.  

“Is it m-my…is it my baby?” He stammered.

She could only nod, chin quivering as more tears gathered at her lash line only to race down her cheeks once she blinked.  

Steve lost it then too, sucking in air before he choked on his own emotions.  He brought her hand to his chest and held it there.  “My baby,” he gasped, eyes flooding.  “You’re having my baby.  We’re having a baby.”

“Yeah,” she hiccuped and sniffed. “You’re not upset?”

“Upset? Why would I be upset? How could you even think that?” He was deeply offended that she would question his reaction to something he’d wanted his whole life with her, specifically.

He was wiping her tears away with his thumbs as she spoke.  “This is far from convenient, Steve. The way we both live our lives, we never planned for this. We barely have two pennies to rub together between us and—”

“Shhhh,” he kissed her nose and her eyelids and her mouth. “Money comes and goes, sweetheart.  It doesn’t matter, nothing matters, but you and this baby.  Our baby.”

Our baby.  He couldn’t stop saying it.  

He hadn’t known about Oliver until a few days before he was born, and he always felt robbed of all that time in the womb when he could’ve bonded with his son.  Tina had been a three-day fling at a music festival, and he never had any intention of seeing her again.  He’d been prepared to do the right thing though, to be a family even if it killed him, but then Tina just handed him a baby boy a week old and drove away, as if he knew what the fuck he was doing.  

Robin had been in the car waiting for him when it happened.  She saw him standing there in the street holding that screaming baby in a blanket and right then and there, a mother was born.  

He put his hand on Astrid’s stomach, gently.  “Can I feel it move yet? The baby?”

She laughed into her hand as she wiped her nose.  “I’m barely seven weeks along, silly.” 

He curled down like he always did when he put his head in her lap, but instead he placed his ear on her stomach, massaging her thigh with his hand. “I don’t think you can hear me, little one, but daddy has loved your mother his whole life and I love you very much.”

His next words were to Astrid; a murmur into the meat of her. “Will you let me love you now? The way I’ve always wanted to? Will you stay with me?”

She scratched her fingers through his hair, and then held his head there when his arms went around her waist. They stayed like that for a long while.

A bit later, in bed with her head on his chest, he was half asleep when she whispered: “You know that twins run in my family, right?”

—------

“A geriatric pregnancy,” Steve told you from across the bar when you were both back at work the next evening to the tune of Connection by Elastica. 

You made a face while you put some limes and shots of tequila on your tray.  

“That’s what they call it, I guess, when a woman is over 35,” he shrugged.  “A geriatric pregnancy.  So, I’m forcing her to take it easy.”

He was letting you and Shana in on the good news, and he’d been grinning from ear to ear for so long, his cheeks hurt.  His gold incisor caught the red lights like it had a ruby in it.  He’d even been smiling in his sleep, somehow, as Astrid noticed when she got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. 

“I’m so happy for you,” you mirrored his enthusiasm.  “Does Eddie know? Wayne?”

“Not yet,” he made a loose fist and cracked his knuckles. “We wanted to tell Uncle together.  I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, but I couldn’t wait,” he added sheepishly. “She knows I can’t keep a secret like that.”

“I’ll wait and let you give Eddie the news,” you told him.  “I think he’d rather hear it from you.”

“Where is that War Machine?” Steve looked around, adjusting his sunglasses on his head.  “I owe him a drink.”

“That’s a good question,” you glanced at the clock that was up by the wall-mounted tv.  “He said he was going to stop by, but that was almost two hours ago.”  It didn’t concern you too much because your boyfriend was a busy guy, and last-minute things were always popping up at the shop.  

It was on your to-do list to call John on your break and let him know you were turning down his offer.  The more you thought about it, the more you wondered if he’d planned to hire you on merit, or if he just wanted to get into your pants.  When you thought about the possibility of the latter, it made your blood pressure spike.  

You delivered a round of drinks to a table, and on your way back to the bar, there was a man in a suit coming through the door, holding a briefcase.  

Steve gave him a nod when they made eye contact, but he didn’t ask to check his ID because the man had a graying hairline and was possibly mid-fifties at the least.  He was fit though, and had a very confident demeanor about him.  He looked like he was there to do business.  

“My name is Saul,” he introduced himself to Steve with a handshake and Steve stood up from his stool to be eye level with him.  “I’m looking for Steve Harrington.”

“You found him,” Steve rolled his neck, wondering what he could possibly want from him.  

Saul gave a stiff smile that did not reach his eyes. 

By then you were at the bar, acting like you were busy so that you could eavesdrop.

“What’s this about?” Steve pushed the sleeves of his flannel up to his elbows, exposing his tattoos.  

“Well, it would behoove you to give me a moment of your time,” he moved one side of his suit jacket back to shove his hand in his pocket, rocking back on his heels.  

“I have some business to discuss with you on behalf of Charlene Gregson.”

—------

John Gregson had no idea he was being followed.

He vaguely registered the sound of the loud pipes from the motorcycles rolling up to Margie’s diner, but he was having a late lunch with a business associate and didn’t pay much attention to it.  He preferred white tablecloth lunch meetings, but in Hawkins there weren’t many choices.  Their BLT was unbeatable though, as was the chocolate cream pie.  He’d have to calculate them both into his low-carb diet and spend extra time at the gym in the morning.  

He had his back to the door, making notes in his date book as the man across from him spoke over the sound of clattering dishes and silverware.  

He felt the shadows pass over the table, but he figured it was a group on the way to sit at a booth further down.  

But they came to a halt and loomed there, smelling of leather and tobacco.

John glanced over the top of his reading glasses at his companion first and saw that the color had drained from his face.  

There were four members of the Coffin Kings glaring down at them.  

Eddie frowned at the man with John and jerked his thumb to the side.  “Get up,” he said.  “Find somewhere else to be, I need to talk to your friend here.”

Devlin sank into the booth behind John while Van stood across the aisle flipping his butterfly knife, and Lucas stayed next to Eddie.

“Now, hold on just a—” John began to protest, about to get to his feet, but Lucas clapped a hand onto his shoulder and pushed him back down with calm, steady force.

His companion’s eyes darted from Eddie to John a few times before he gathered his things in a rush, tucking all of his papers under his arm, and shimmied past Van while holding his breath.  It was clear he had no intention of going to wait at another table, he was down the row of booths and out the front door in a flash.

With a heavy sigh, Eddie sank into the seat across from John, wallet chain dragging on the vinyl as he settled in, stretching his arms wide along the back of the bench.  

Lucas turned his back on the two but stood in the same spot, feet planted wide, hands in his pockets, blocking John from leaving.

With a resolute nod, John put his pen down.  “Have we met? I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure—”

“Cut the crap, man,” Eddie huffed with a lazy grin and hooded eyes.  “You know exactly who I am.”

John took his glasses off and tucked them inside his jacket pocket.  “Fair enough. How can I help you?”

Eddie plucked a pack of smokes out of the front pocket of his cut and motioned for Devlin to toss him a lighter.

“This is a no smoking section,” John reminded him, pointing to the sign on the wall with a red line through a cigarette.

Eddie stared at him as he lit the end and sucked in his cheeks until the cherry glowed orange. 

He waited until after a generous exhale to speak, directing the smoke into John’s leftover pie.  

“You see, John—can I call you John? I’ve been really…patient when it comes to this infatuation you have with my girl.  More patient than you deserve, I think.”

John clicked his tongue.  “Now, you misunderstand me, I—”

“I haven’t misunderstood shit,” Eddie scoffed a laugh. 

The waitress came over, and John was sure she was going to tell him to put his cigarette out, but instead she just gave him the most flirtatious smile.  “You want some coffee, hun? You hungry?”

Eddie finished taking another drag and winked at her.  “Just coffee for me, darlin’,” and then he gestured to the other Coffin Kings. “Get these boys whatever they want and wrap it up to go.  It’s on John’s tab.”

Once she was gone, Eddie continued.  “Here’s what’s gonna happen, slick,” he reached over to tap the ash out on John’s plate.  “Once she finishes this painting, you’re gonna to pay her more than what you initially offered, and then you’re never going to see her or talk to her ever again.  Comprendo?”

John used the back of his fingers to push the plate a few inches away, dabbing the sides of his mouth with his napkin.  “My offer for her to run my gallery in Chicago had no devious intentions, I assure you.  I genuinely believe she is that talented.”

Eddie ground his teeth, jaw muscles bulging.  “She’s beyond talented, you got that right, but she doesn’t want to work for you.  You’re a creep.  Throwing money and big promises around to get what you want.  I know your type.”

“My type?” 

“Has your wife ever mentioned me?” Eddie inquired, exhaling into John’s face.

He watched John visibly go rigid.  

Rhonda set Eddie’s coffee cup on a saucer down in front of him with extra creamer and poured him a steaming cup.

John cleared his throat.  “I think it would be in her best interest—”

“You don’t know what’s best for her,” Eddie bit.  “Who are you, her fucking dad?”

He’d said it a bit too loud and a few people from other tables craned their necks to follow the sound.  

Eddie leaned forward, whispering tensely.  “I don’t think I have to tell you that I have friends in low places. People who will do what I say at the drop of a hat.  You think you can hide behind your money?  You’re wrong.  The people who pump your gas and make your food and clean your bathroom?  They’re all with me. You’ll be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life.  If you fuck with me on this, if you seek my girl out after I’ve told you not to?  Well, then, I hope you like dentures sweetheart because I’m gonna pull your perfect, pearly teeth out one by one.”

By the time he was done, his hand had curled into a fist on the table.  He spread the ringed fingers out wide and then made the fist again, making John look at it.

Eddie snubbed out his smoke in John’s pie with a sizzle and then settled back in his seat, relaxing his shoulders.  He cocked an eyebrow up.  “Are we good?”

John sat back as well.  “We’re good,” he acknowledged stiffly, adjusting his suit jacket.

Eddie slapped the table and gave John a wink.  “Well, this was fun,” he chuckled.  “We should catch up more often.”

He took a quick gulp of his coffee and slid out of the booth.  

He stopped to bend over and whisper, “don’t forget to tip well, slick,” in John’s ear on his way out.  

—-------

By the time Eddie showed up at the Velvet Hammer, swatting away plumes of second-hand smoke as he went, everyone knew that Steve was going to be a dad again.  Even the new customers who’d barely just walked in the door that evening.  

Astrid had prepared for this.

One of the many complicated reasons she’d waited more than a week to tell him was because she’d known that, if he knew, he’d be announcing it to everyone he passed by on the street.

Steve jumped from his stool and hugged Eddie.  “I’ve got great news, man,” he clapped Eddie a few times on the arm, over the thick leather jacket he had on.  

Eddie had been on his way across the room to you when his friend stopped him, so the sudden affection took him off guard.  “I like good news,” he caught your eye over Steve’s shoulder and smirked.  

Steve let him know that he was going to be a dad again, which Eddie assumed would happen sooner than later, but he was surprised and delighted to know that Astrid was the mom.  They both knew that she’d been told it would be nearly impossible for her to conceive.  

Steve leaned in.  “This proves it, man, I have a magic dick.”

“Sure you do,” Eddie scoffed, patting Steve on the cheek a few times.  “Only took you 15 years.”

Before you could greet him, Eddie was already in front of you, pulling you flush to his body.  He started to walk and you took backwards steps to stay with him.  “Can you take your break right now?”

“I wasn’t going to for another hour but—”

“I need to talk to you,” he hushed.  

“Um, okay, well,” you glanced over at Shana and she waved you off.  

His mouth found yours the second you were obscured in the dark hallway.  You figured he’d be escorting you out to the alley where you usually took your breaks with him so he could smoke, but this time, he pulled you into one of the two unisex bathrooms and locked it behind him. The bulbs inside were red, and it set an eerie, bloodwashed glow.

“This place sees a lot of action,” you mumbled into his kiss as he worked your skirt up so that he could take a handful of the meat of your ass.  “I like to call it Steve’s Office.”

Before you knew what was happening, he was hoisting you up onto the sink counter with a grunt.  Your thighs and bum were fully exposed now, covered in fishnet stockings, and one of his hands held your face while the other rubbed a knuckle over the heat between your legs.  Your panties and stockings were preventing him from going further, but not for long.  

You were about to protest, to say you had to get back to work, or to remind him how many women Steve had probably railed in that very spot, but

Fuck

And just when you softened with a shaky moan, he kissed a trail down your jaw and throat, with a few nibbles in between.

You whimpered, spreading your legs further apart, Doc Marten booted feet locking onto his thighs to keep him close.

“I have something..” smooch “...that I need…” smooch “...to ask you…” smooch

“Right now?” You palmed his hard length over his denim and then went to work at undoing his belt buckle. “We only have 10 minutes.”

He leaned back, letting his cherry bitten lips hover there at eye level.  His bangs were getting too long, he needed a trim, and you brushed them to the side, off of his eyebrows. 

“Do you want to move in with me?”

You blinked a few times. “Into your apartment?”

“No, no,” eager lips found your mouth again and his thumb rubbed circles over the taut nub of your nipple through your shirt.  “The big farmhouse down on Marigold Road.  I pointed it out once when we drove by.”

You stopped.  “The old Ferguson place? Aren’t there people already living there?”

“Not anymore,” he could feel your arousal soaking through your underwear and he hissed, grinding his erection against your thigh. “I want to buy it. For us.”

In your desperation, you reached down and clawed at the section of black fishnet that was keeping him from you, ripping a little further down your thigh than you’d intended to.

Eddie kissed down the front of you on the way to his knees, and then your underwear was pulled to one side and his tongue was on your swollen clit, rolling in circles there.  

You dug your fingers into his hair with one hand and supported yourself on the ledge with the other.  He sucked a few times, and then his tongue went inside of you, and you bit your lip, squirming to try and repress a scream.  

“That is a big step,” you gasped. “Moving in together.”

For the longest time, you couldn’t see yourself living with anyone other than a roommate ever again.

He hummed on your now soaked cunt and then kitten licked it a few times.  “I’m ready. Are you?”

You didn’t respond at first because your eyes were rolling back in your head, so he popped off to get to his feet, his chin glistening.  He spread your thighs further apart to make room for his hips and undid his zipper.

His pupils bloomed wide as he searched your lustful eyes, insecurities making his heart rate quicken.  “Are you not ready? I mean, do you not want that? Is it too soo—”

But then you silenced him with your mouth, lapping up your juices from his chin, moving away a strand of his hair that had stuck there. “I want to see the inside. Could we go look at it together?”

“Yeah we can,” he pushed his boxers down and rubbed the tip of his leaking cock along your slit. “I’ll call the real estate dude in the morning.”

You clung to his neck, jaw going slack as he sank in. “I’ll have to check with Charlie.”

He chucked into the kiss at you mentioning your cat, and then he was stretching you out, easing his way in, aching to be one with you.

“Deeper…more,” you whimpered, and then you each let out a muffled cry when he filled you to the hilt, flush inside of your pulsing heat.

He rested his forehead on yours and began to work his hips, thrusting deep and retreating with a curl of his hips so that you could feel every vein, every ridge, but then you were clenching around him, and he sped up with a curse, a thumb working at your clit.

“This…fuck, I’m going to cum so hard inside of you,” he admitted with a huff.  His belt buckle clinked against his zipper with every thrust.  “You want that? You want all of me?”

“Fuck, Eddie, yes,” You whined, clinging to him as stars exploded behind your eyes. 

His strong fingers dug into your flesh to hold your legs in place, and after a few more shaking pumps, he was spilling inside of you, each of you a moaning mess of “I love yous”, clawing at the other to be closer.  

Someone banged on the door just as the two of you were catching your breath and Eddie was still inside of you.

“Get lost!” Eddie yelled, not caring if it was a customer.

“Are you two having a tea party in there? Cabbage Patch meeting perhaps?” 

It was Steve, and then you could hear his ruckus laughter as he banged another few times just to be cheeky.

You adjusted your underwear back into place, and Eddie fastened his jeans before he helped you down off the counter.  You pulled your skirt down and checked yourself in the mirror.

Yikes.

The rip down your inner thigh was painfully obvious.  You wondered if shredding them in a few more places would make it more of “a look”, but then realized that the lighting in the Hammer was not great, and it wasn’t unheard of for someone to accidentally rip their stockings at work.  

But what about when Eddie’s seed started to drip down your leg?

“You go,” you shooed him away as he stood there adjusting the collar of his jacket, waiting for you. “I need to pee.”

He was looking at himself in the mirror, rubbing lipstick off his cheek, but then he turned just before grabbing for the door.  “If you don’t want to, you know, live together right away, I get it.  But with Katie moving in with Robin and all, I figured—”

“You figured we could be roommates?” 

He smirked, giving a bashful shrug.  “A little more than that, maybe.  Roommates with benefits.”

“Yeah?” You sank against his chest, forever helpless to his gravitational pull.  “What kind of benefits?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he rubbed the sides of your arms with his calloused hands. “I’ll make you pancakes.”

“You think you can make pancakes?” 

“Baby, I've told you before, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

—-------

“WAYNE!”

Uncle entered the Hammer and everyone screamed his name like he was Norm in an episode of Cheers.

It had been a while since he dropped by unannounced, and he looked better than ever.

Still much thinner than he had been the year before, and it was hard for him to catch his breath sometimes, but his eyes were bright, and he wore a soft smile more often than not.  

Maybe the chemo was working? Maybe there was hope?

Devlin had been sitting on the stool at the bar next to Eddie, but Eddie was quick to tell him to take a hike when Wayne showed up.

“What did the doctor say?” He asked as his uncle straddled the stool and got comfortable.  He was in a green and white plaid work shirt and had decided to leave his Coffin Kings leather at home.  

Wayne gave a single nod and patted around for his smokes out of habit, even though he’d given it up when he started treatment.  “Just heard Steve's gonna be a dad again. He better treat her right, that's all I can say." It was obvious he was damn near giddy at the thought, Eddie could see it in the way a smile kept tugging at the sides of his mouth. "I’m sick of talking about doctors and my goddamn condition. Want to forget about it for a night.”

Eddie respected that, and tapped the bar to order him one of those non-alcoholic beers that they kept cold specifically for Wayne and one other regular patron.  

You barely had a chance to give Wayne a shoulder squeeze when Robin burst in through the door, frantically scanning the crowd.  There was a dancer on the backstage, working her way down the poll, and Steve had gone over to remind a few rowdy customers to behave themselves.  Robin rushed over and met him halfway, in front of the glowing jukebox.

He found no comfort in the way she looked like she’d been crying.

“What’s going on?” Felt like his heart literally stopped beating in his chest. “Are you okay?”

“The spare key,” she held her palm out.  “You used it last time and now I’m locked out of the house.”

He felt around in his back pocket.  “Where are your regular keys?”

She rolled her eyes, bouncing in frustration. “I lost them somewhere, okay? At work maybe, I’m not sure, but Oliver just threw a fit, I’m on my period, and we’re all just in a really bad mood and want to go home.”

“Alright, alright, here take my key,” he wrestled it off the metal ring to hand it to her.  “Just remember to leave the back door unlocked for me.  Is Oliver in the car?”

“No, he’s at Katie’s place with her, I needed to take a drive alone so that I could scream,” she snatched the key from him.

“Shit, you had me worried for a second.”

“Sorry,” admittedly, she felt like she was overreacting to something so small and fixable, but more likely her tears were from an accumulation of things.  Once the panic spike subsided, her eyes landed on half of a white envelope peeking out of the pocket of his Coffin Kings leather, right above his TAZ insignia.  She always teased him and said his official nickname should’ve been Dingus.

“What’s this?” It looked like it had some official lettering in the corner, and she plucked it out to look closer.

They made their way back to the front so he could keep an eye on the door, and she frowned at the name of a law office in the corner. 

“I don’t know, I haven’t opened it yet,” he shrugged.  “Some douchey lawyer brought it by, said it was from Charlene.  It was busy when he came in, so he gave me that to read and told me to call him in the morning.”

“Fucking Charlene?” She balked.  “What, is she suing you for not wanting to be her boyfriend?”  

“I haven’t had time to open in, but it wouldn’t surprise me.”

A group of people came in, and two looked like they were 16, so Steve carded them.  

Robin ripped the top of the envelope open. You stepped in front of her on your way to a table, and the two of you collided.

You said a quick apology and were about to ask if she wanted a drink, when Shana shouted across the bar to tell Robin the phone was for her.

“It’s your boss from the motel,” Shana continued, holding her hand over the bottom half of the receiver.

Robin gave a heavy, exasperated sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose.  “She’s going to ask me to work a double shift tomorrow, I just know it.”

She shoved the paperwork at you that she’d just unfolded, but not yet read.  “Hold this for me? Be right back.”

“Oh—okay,” you had the paperwork pressed flat to your chest as you made your way over to stand at Eddie’s shoulder.  He was talking to Wayne, but he reached back and squeezed your thigh in greeting.  

You hadn’t meant to look, to eavesdrop on their private business.

But once glance was all it took

For you to be fully invested

Charlene’s name was the first thing to catch your eye

And then, The Velvet Hammer

You took a few long blinks, unsure if what you were looking at was real.

You mouthed a few of the words quietly just to make sure you were reading them correctly.

The way you froze made Eddie curious, and he turned his head to see what you were doing.

“What’s up babe? What is that?”

“It’s, uh—” you stammered.  “It’s Steve’s.  You’re never going to believe this, but um—”

“Can I see it?” 

He tried to meet your eyes as he took it from you, but you couldn’t seem to look away from the words on the paper.  Your mind was reeling.

Robin returned just as Eddie held the papers out in front of him, and she steadied herself with a hand on his back to read over his shoulder.

Steve meandered over; his curiosity officially piqued at what you were all huddled together about.  

“What’s it say?”  He had a smoke bobbing between his lips and his hands in his pockets.  “Did I win the lottery or somethin’?”

He chuckled, but then you all turned to him in unison, unblinking, mouths agape.

“Yeah man,” a smile curled on Eddie’s lips.  “Actually, you kinda did.”

—------

Charlene was on the plane to Hawaii when she read the newspaper article.

A glass of first-class champagne and a window to her right, an empty aisle seat to her left.  

There he was, right on the front page of The Hawkins Post: 

Steve.

In a bigger city, a business changing hands could fly under the radar, but in a small town, it was newsworthy when a local biker and bouncer becomes a business owner overnight.

A Cinderella story, the reporter called it.

The cover photo was of him out on the sidewalk, standing next to the red door entrance to the Velvet Hammer.  Shana was in the photo with him, as were Robin, Jackie, Erika, and you.  

Not pictured was Eddie Munson, whom the article mentioned Steve had chosen to take on as a partner.

The article talked about their plans for the Hammer, including bringing in a tattoo studio to the vacant storage space next door.  

She ran her finger over his face on the newsprint.

It wasn’t until the end of the article that she got the wind knocked out of her:

“Steve and his longtime partner, Astrid Bautista, are expecting their first child together in the spring.”

She hadn’t expected that.

She had to look away and take a generous gulp of champagne.  

Her eyes got a little wet and her vision blurred, but she read it again.

“Did you miss me?” Billy sank into the seat next to her with his sunglasses on and a white shirt unbuttoned almost to the waist of his jeans. He smiled around the pink gum he was chewing and craned his neck to see what she was reading, but she folded the paper hastily and turned it over.

She didn’t answer him, she just stared out the window over the clouds and tried to forget she ever felt a thing.  

------

authors note: wow, we did it. This is my first fic series to finish ever 😭 If you've made it this far, you know how much this story and the characters have evolved since those first couple chapters. If this were an actual novel, I'd go back and make it all sync up, give it more continuity, and reveal nicknames like War Machine and Taz earlier in the game. But the cool thing about posting this way for a fandom is that you, the reader, are able to see in real time how the characters develop a mind of their own and take over the story in a way not even the writer can predict. In this case specifically, you can also see how I went from having no idea how to write a reader insert fic to becoming more and more comfortable with it.

I never had any intention of making Charlene a villain. She was literally based off of the wealthy woman in the Bruce Springsteen video for his song I'm on Fire. Just a gal who had a crush on her mechanic. Some of you voiced that you wished Charlene could get killed, or hurt somehow, and for those of you, you can trust that she is hurting. Knowing that Steve will be having a family with someone else is a deep wound.

I've had several requests for a separate biker Steve story with a new reader, and until two chapters ago, I fully intended to follow through on that. But the more I wrote him with Astrid, the more I felt it was wrong to keep them apart. If you are a fan of their love story, I highly recommend visiting THIS masterlist from @texasblues who created Astrid's character. But I do plan to bring a slightly different biker Steve back in a new au, stay tuned 🥰

This of course, is not the end. I plan to drop an epilogue on you all when you least expect it, and it will take place a year or two after the events here. If you are a friend of mine, you will laugh at this because whenever I say I'm going to write an epilogue, I never do. But this time I mean it.

I can't express in words how much your comments, asks, and messages about this story have meant, and will always mean to me. I was living through one of the darkest years of my life when I joined tumblr back in April and started writing this fic, and you all have held me together, whether you realize it or not. I love you and am deeply grateful for you all.

Taglist: @notsobubblybaby @unfocused81 @aysheashea @etherealglimmer@manicmagicmayhem @dream-a-little-nightmare@chaoticgood-munson @emxcast @rhirojo @bexreadstoomuch @micheledawn1975 @falling-solar-system@secretdryrose

@whatwedontdointheshadows @miarosso @seventhlevelofhell @corrodedcoffincumslut @lofaewrites @goldyghoul @chloe-6123 @kelsiegrin @chelebelletx @stylesxmunson @kurdtbean@dandelionnfluff @clincallyonline17 @tlclick73 @eddiemunson95 @sidthedollface2 @hideoutside @truffleshuffle12 @tenthmoon @texasblues@emilyslutface@mmunson86@onegirlmanytales@laylaloves-ed@dashingdeb16@eddiiiieeee @ick90 @dashingdeb16 @polyestermonster @trixyvixx @atomickaratel8dy @kiyastrf94 @allthingsjoeq @eddiesxangel @razzieth @corrodeddeadlydoll @erinekc @angietherose @sllooney @writinginthetwilight @moonbeamsandmayhem @brianamunson92 @joannamuns9n @bellalillyrose @alba8688 @chevelle724

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 5

Introducing...PERONA! I love this pink haired princess. I hope you enjoy the switch ups I've done here! I wanted to try and give a little insight to everyone. Enjoy!

Masterlist

Warnings! None this time!

It's only been four days, and Dracule already longs to be back on your quiet island in the middle of nowhere. Just the two of you and quiet Hank, and not the loud mouth ghost girl who had shown up at his castle and just never left. He feels a sigh bubble up and spill over for the umpteenth time today when he hears Perona screech again about…something?

He ignores her shrill voice and focuses back on the task at hand, finding his Darling the books that she wanted. Dracule has already found the seafaring and ship books he wants to give her; his home is filled to the brim with anything he may want, after all. He already knows you enjoy Botany, so he supposes he would search for those next.

Mihawk is pulled from his musing when he notices that it has gone oddly quiet. He cuts his eyes to the floating girl under his care and finds her far too close for comfort. He glares at her, face falling from whatever expression he'd been making, “What, Perona?” He demands.

The pink haired girl narrows her eyes right back at him and floats closer despite the obvious annoyance that colors his tone.

“You are what, Mihawk,” Perona squawks in his face. She glances down at the books that lay across his massive desk, “Since when do you need books about sailing? And you've been,” she grimaces, “Smiley lately. What's that about?”

Dracule's expression closes off, mouth dropping in a sneer, “I suggest you mind your own business, today, Ghost Girl,” he snaps at her and casually tucks his gifts away under his desk. He absolutely does not want Perona of all people to know about his hidden oasis away from the world. You didn't need that kind of attention.

Perona sticks her tongue out at him, “Ugh, so you are hiding something! Why don't you just tell me? Who else will I tell? It's not like Zoro is here anymore.” She laments dramatically. He watches her float up and around the room, her odd stuffed animals watching nervously from the doorway of his study.

“My business is my business,” Dracule quips and reaches for the glass of wine he'd left to air, and then takes a delicate sip. His mind wanders back to you, and he makes a mental note to bring along his favorite wine for you to try next time he shows himself.

The thought of you flushed and giggly with alcohol has him shifting in his seat.While he would never take advantage of you, he can picture you clinging to him, thick tongued as he whispered all the things he wanted from you. You listened to him so well, trusting that he would not lead you astray. Unwarranted, a smirk begins to curl his lips, and his nice day dream is shattered by the triumphant sound that Perona makes.

“See! There you are again! You don't just smile like that! It's creepy,” she makes a face at him, and Dracule can feel the vein in his forehead pulse in pure frustration.

“Get out of here before I toss you in the sea, Perona,” Dracule snaps at her, and the pink haired girl huffs in obvious disdain even as she flips herself around to float out of his study.

“Fine, Dracy. Be that way to your only friend,” Perona snips, and thankfully, one of the stitched stuffies shuts the door behind them.

Mihawk swipes a hand through his hair. He's more annoyed about himself for getting so lost in thought over some woman on a lost island. He doesn't understand why you've become so…special to him so quickly, but he's learned long ago that one shouldn't question why one wants something. You were a unique specimen, one that he wanted to know everything about. These small glimpses into your life he has gotten so far are not enough, not for one as selfish as he.

Dracule huffs to himself, “Acting like a fool,” he grumbled and sipped his wine in contemplative silence until his glass was empty. He stands from his plush seat, mind already occupied with mentally pursuing his collection of books and the ones he wanted to give to you.

-----

Perona catches Mihawk twice more smiling to himself and calls him out each time the next couple of days. She doesn't know what's gotten into Mihawk, but the usual stoic warlord was far more…pleasant than usual. As long as she didn't point out the way he was smiling to himself, that is.

She looks through the odd arrangement of books on his desk when he is gone, frowning to herself at the array of sailing and Botany books. There is even one about the many species of animal that make the Grand Line their home. These aren't the kind of tomes that Perona sees him reading, and it has made her very suspicious.

She drops the books with a wrinkled nose and floats back in the air, “What are you hiding, Dracy,” she hisses to herself and glares at his desk as if had all the answers in the world.

Perona sighs and then fixes the desk, hiding the books from sight and leaving before she is caught by the owner of the castle. She'd hate to see if he actually went through with his threat.

-----

The weeks that you are alone on your island are long. Longer than long, you think. It's been nineteen days since Mihawk left, you know, because you keep careful track of when to rotate your drying racks for your herbs, and the departure has left you more…despondent lately. You try your best to ignore the cold that constantly surrounds you without your mysterious friend.

Were the two of you friends? You didn't really know. You've never been involved with someone before, especially not with someone so unique and interesting as Dracule. It's rare that someone washed up on your tiny island, and when they did, they usually tried to rob you after you tried to help them.

You sigh and sit up in the sands of the shore that faces west, the way Hawkeye had gone when he left. You wonder when he'll come back, and you blush when you think of all the things he might want to do with you next. That kiss the morning before he set sail had been mind-numbing. You liked the way he took control of your life, enjoyed it when he looked at you with those piercing eyes, and ordered you.

A big shaggy body shoves between your arms suddenly, and you snicker as Hank tackles you back down. Even with the distraction of your shaggy pup, your thoughts still linger on the yellow eyed man.

“Look at me, Hank!” You bury your face in his fur, “All I can think about is him kissing me!” You whail and your thoughts instantly turn to the way his tongue had slid in your mouth, headless of you just waking, “I sound like someone from one of those books,” You huff in frustration and rise, wiping hair away from your face when the wind suddenly whips around you.

Something shadow's you from the warm sun, and you squint up to see what had interrupted your rant to Hank. Your mouth runs dry when you see none other than the man your brain hasn't been able to keep quiet about.

Dracule smirks down at his sweet oasis, who stares up at him with big eyes and lips caught in her teeth as if afraid to speak up. He reaches out for her, warm hand sliding along her jaw, and thumb tapping the lip between her teeth. You open your mouth, and Mihawk smooths the pad of his thumb over the abused flesh.

“I believe I heard you saying something about a kiss?” Dracule questions, and you are caught in his ring-eyed gaze. He raises a brow when you nod, and you remember the last time this happened.

“I was, maybe thinking about the kiss from that morning,” you say, voice rough in embarrassment as you try to look anywhere but at Mihawk. His grip tightens, and your cheeks burn as Dracule forces you to look at him, proving any attempts mute.

The warlord chuckles, a dark rumble deep in his chest that has your toes curling in anticipation, “Well then, Dear One. I'm here now. There is nothing stopping you from taking what you want.”

@writingmysanity @djbumblebee @goth-mami-writer @kenkenmaaa @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff

[toxicanonymity]

raider analysis

Warnings: angst, references to violence, captivity, references to past assault/abuse, warnings from the related posts this is analyzing.

A/N: this is about the hypothetical from today, plus some about the 🐶 (goes into Hunger). Keep in mind I share these because some people enjoy it, not because i want you to read it like AP Lit, lol. 🫣

------

Ok, the kinda tearjerking exchange (not my favorite kind of jerking, but it happened, sorry) starts off

“‘Member what I said after ya ran?” You nod. “that you only want me if I'm good?” A tear runs down your cheek.

I have to admit I'm sad for both of you in this moment. You especially, sweet pea. But also, Joel regrets how he treated you in the aftermath of your escape, and he can't undo it. He's mostly thought about the physical part of it (glimpse of this in the yoga drabble). Now hearing you paraphrase his words, he's faced with the fact that it's even worse than he's been beating himself up over (deservedly, tbf). 

As far as you running away, the main thing that reassured Joel was how you said it wasn't about him, it was the other guys, to which he said you gotta talk to him when something's bothering you. So in his eyes that was his main point. But before he calmed down enough to express that, he was angry and it made a real impression on you. Your main takeaway was that his interest in you (and your safety) was conditional.  You don't think about it a lot these days, and in the big picture it's outweighed by his extreme possessiveness, but it's a thread of insecurity and the first thing that comes to mind when he asks if you remember what he said.

For Joel, there's a whole other conversation happening here (with himself) under the surface.

In this convo when Joel says “that was real bad,” it all was, including what he did in response.  When he asks “we’re past that, right?” he means all of it. He wishes that day would just go away. It's also kind of an empty hope related to what he's done to you. He doesn't think he deserves forgiveness or love, but at this point he also doesn't want you to live in fear of him or only stay for that reason. 

You answer as if he just wants to know you wont run away again, and that's still nice to hear. He latches onto that answer as a momentary "out" from feeling the weight of what he's done, reminding himself what's supposed to really matter to him–that you're "his"--like your answer assumed he was thinking.

—--

Also, a word about the dog. Not everything with the dog is profound. I like doggos and think they should have one. But, the initial interaction/freeing him from the collar is meaningful if you consider who else has been chained in this story (but not lately).  And there's more parallels you can draw if you want to, but I also support just enjoying the little guy.

In the same chapter, it's the first time we see Joel take you out with him as a capable person (armed). Then he even lets you go into the forest alone. The reason he ultimately goes in after you is because he's worried about you. In general, Joel wants to keep you for his own sake but is also scared of what could happen to you on your own (he's almost seen it). You're legitimately worried about the dog’s well-being and think he needs you, but you also just want him around.

Joel despises the addict and the way he treated his own dog. Joel hates himself, too. His thoughts coming out of the forest reveal he’s coming for the junkie as a stand-in and what he really wants is to hurt everyone who ever hurt you. He knows he's one of those people. I'm not saying he wants to hurt himself but some of the aggression he takes out on other men (when a simple bullet would suffice) is from his own self hatred. Normally these men have something in common with him. 

Joel initially rejects the dog, not wanting another someone to take care of distracting him from protecting you. But later the dog demonstrates he's more than meets the eye and has a lot to offer and for good reason Joel seems to come around, even if he won't say it. Despite that progress, in the hypothetical from today we still want more for the dog.  The dog deserves more. We still want more for sweet pea who is emotionally starving and has been subjected to Joel's coldness in her previous attempts to get closer to him. She deserves more. Like maybe a kiss at least (when she's awake). In night air we see why Joel struggles with that, but he keeps making progress. At least he's kissing your other lips.

-----

----

Thank you for reading and being invested <3. Joel's a bad guy but tbh I identify with and pour myself into both these characters in different ways.

I'm tired but this isn't exhaustive 😅 your thoughts and interpretation are valid, too.

[appocalipse]

BEGGING for lipstick from the prompt list with Steve. I’ve been binging all of your blurbs and then read that prompt and died thinking about it.

you're so sweet, thank you. ♥ honestly i was hoping someone would pick this prompt cause it was my favorite | steve + fake dating ♥

[LIPSTICK; Brushing lipstick off their cheek after the other/someone kisses them. ]

—

You find Steve sitting on a sun lounger beside the pool, watching the water thoughtfully. Probably bored out of his mind, you think, feeling a little guilty.

He doesn't hear you approaching. The sun lounger is big enough for you to sit next to him, though there's only a tiny gap between your bare thigh and his. 

"Sorry," you say, handing him one of the two glasses you brought with you and offering an apologetic smile. 

Steve stares suspiciously at the red liquid, frowning at the small bright yellow umbrella decorating the glass. "For what?" he asks. His tone is soft, his expression even softer when his eyes meet yours.

"For dragging you to the world's most boring party."

"Oh, you should see my parents' parties," he beams, fiddling with the small umbrella absentmindedly. "Those were three times worse than this. And at least I have you here."

He lightly bumps your shoulder with his and you try to keep the smile on your face from looking too silly, too needy. You don't think you succeed. The solution is lowering your head and pretending to be interested in the drink in your hand — which, by the way, you don't even know what it's called, let alone what it's made of.

And Steve looks too pretty in the dim moonlight. 

"And you didn't drag me here, I volunteered," he adds when you don't say anything, taking a careful sip of his own drink. "But what is this? Jesus," he frowns at the glass as if it has offended him deeply.

Then, Steve laughs.

As always, his laugh is contagious. A giggle escapes you in no time. "I have no idea. Some fancy drink May is making for everyone."

Steve braves another sip, then decidedly puts the glass down on the ground next to your legs…your legs, which he's now looking intently at. It's subtle but definitely there, a gaze that lingers a second too long before he's straightening up and clearing his throat, once again the picture of a great, respectful friend. It happened, you tell yourself. And yet, your mind desperately tries to convince you that you're reading too much into this, into him, into this relationship.

You take a big sip of your drink. It's far from being your favorite, but it's also not bad. A little sweet, a little strong. You're not sure whether you're hoping it boosts your courage or completely erases it along with all of your thoughts about the boy beside you. It doesn't seem to be working either way.

Coming to this high school reunion — a pathetic excuse of a party with your classmates from your old school in Indianapolis, more like — was probably not your best decision. Bringing Steve along as your fake boyfriend wasn't your brightest idea either, because even though he'd been pretty convincing all night and made everyone basically fall in love with him, now you can't stop thinking about what it would be like if he really was your boyfriend.

"So," Steve starts, sighing. You look up, hoping to catch a glimpse of a star, a distraction, but the sky is clear tonight. "That guy- Philip."

Steve doesn't look at you. He tries very hard to appear almost distracted, like he's just making small talk. You bite back a smile.

"Phil," you correct him. 

"Phil," Steve repeats, as if the name leaves a bad taste in his mouth. "He looked really upset when you introduced me as your boyfriend, you know."

There's potential in the way this conversation is going, you think, although you also hate how this is the first thing that comes to your mind.

"He's with May," you inform.

"Why do I feel like there's a story there?"

You set your glass down carefully next to Steve's and take a deep breath. "There is. A very short one: we dated the year before I moved to Hawkins, tried long distance, and then he cheated on me with May and they started dating. The end."

Steve stares at you for a long moment before answering.

"Wow, what an idiot. I was going to say I'm sorry, but you can do so much better than him. Honestly."

You exhale a nervous laugh. "So much better that I had to ask a friend to pretend to be my boyfriend just so I wouldn't feel like such a loser."

"You are not a loser."

The look you give him seems to ask 'really?' Steve stares back at you as if you've just cursed him profusely, although you can see the offended expression is entirely false.

"You are not a loser," he repeats seriously, holding your gaze. 

You can read the request implied in the sentence, and you see little option but to comply with it, smiling.

"Okay, I'm not a loser," you concede, feigning annoyance. You look down at your shoes, certain that this is not the time for self-pity but unable to stop. "I just can't make anyone love me."

"I love you," Steve says easily.

You use all your willpower not to blush, even though you're positive it's not even possible to contain such a thing. It's not the first time Steve has said those words and you know there's nothing romantic about them. And yet every time you hear those three words — which happened only a couple of times during the span of your friendship, (usually caused by emotional hugs on holidays) — you still feel an inexplicable tingling in the back of your neck, a shiver down your spine.

"I love you too," you say, and it's not the first time either. Getting the words out without letting the real extent of the feeling behind them show is still quite hard for you. "But I meant, you know… as more than friends."

Steve looks at you differently, or maybe it's just the faint moonlight tricking your eyes, but for a moment you think he's actually going to say something. 

And then the moment passes and he leans forward, resting his palms on his knees in silence. 

You let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding.

"Thank you."

Steve turns his face to look at you. 

"What for?"

"For coming here with me. And for keeping up the loyal boyfriend facade even in front of a bunch of gorgeous girls drooling over you."

You chuckle in hopes of sounding more relaxed. All Steve does is smile.

"It wasn't hard, you now," he says, and you don't think you'd be able to wipe the smile from your face if you tried. "It was actually pretty easy. And you're way prettier than all of them."

Your smile grows into a giggle. "Steve-"

"And way funnier and kinder too. And nicer. You're really nice, you know that? And your perfume is-"

You put your hand over his mouth, laughing. "Fine, fine! Stop!" you chide, even though this is the last thing you want him to do.

You can see the smile in his eyes.

And that's it; it's the soft look on his face, his infuriating perfect hair, his sweet words...those are the things you blame when you lean forward and impulsively kiss him on the cheek, leaving a red mark on his skin almost perfectly the shape of your lips.

"Thank you," you say before pulling away, sounding surprisingly firm despite what you've just done.

You can't be imagining it. The expression of confusion on his face, half disbelieving and half dreamy, definitely a little satisfied. It can't be just you imagining it.

Did I cause this?

Your thumb touches the lipstick stain on Steve's cheek and you rub it gently, using your other hand to gently cup his chin. "Shit, I'm sorry, Steve," you whisper. "I got lipstick on your face."

He smiles. You know he's smiling because you're looking at his mouth right now.

And he's looking at yours.

Oh my God.

The pad of your thumb is red because of the lipstick and his cheek is still slightly colored by the traces of it, but now your attention has dissipated like a puff of smoke and you are unable to grasp it again.

Steve grabs your wrist, mumbles your name. With his free hand, he touches your lips with his fingertips and states, "Your lipstick is smudged."

"Is it?" you ask.

"It is," he assures. And kisses you.

Steve's lips are soft and he tastes like May's drink, sweet as he moves against you slowly, perhaps hesitant or perhaps wanting to enjoy every second, you think, wishing it was the last option. His arm curls around your waist and you sigh against his mouth, pulling away just for a brief moment. But his lips chase yours and capture them in another kiss and another and another until there's no option but to pull away for air.

He rests his forehead against yours and smiles between heavy breaths. "I lied," Steve whispers. "Your lipstick wasn't smudged before."

[quarantineddreamer]

Yours to Hold

For Fluffbruary Day 13 (Choice)

To be perfectly honest: my brain is still not quite with it these days. But, I'm holding out hope that the fog will clear at some point soon (plz) and in the meantime here's a little one-shot I managed! Hope it's enjoyable 💜 (Click above to read on AO3 or see below the cut)

It had been months since Scarif. Most of it he had spent recovering from his injuries. All of it, he had spent wondering why he could face death more easily than he could face life, face her and all she represented. Hope. Happiness. Home.   He had come outside to think, hoping the bracing cold might clear his head and deliver an answer. He knew how he felt about her, knew what he wanted. What he was searching for was the courage to try–to choose a future that extended beyond the next mission; something permanent and lasting and full of possibilities. Something not for the Rebellion, but for himself. Something to be shared…

Of all the planets Cassian had been sent to during his time with the Rebellion, Hoth was by far his least favorite.

Maybe it was because it was frigid as hell.

Or maybe it was because the loose snow sliding beneath his foot had a tendency to remind him of sand…

Or because sometimes, when a storm blew in, the horizon disappeared, a blinding white, returning him to the awful edge of oblivion; a planet devoured before his very eyes…

Already, dark clouds were beginning to encroach upon the brief glimpse of blue sky he had managed to snatch. By his estimate he had maybe fifteen minutes left in the fresh air before he would need to retreat back into the gloom of Echo Base. He dreaded the thought, his head aching in memory of the harsh halogen lighting, chest tightening as he pictured the maze of tight, winding tunnels leading to crowded and too-small ‘rooms’.

Sure, on Yavin 4 he had been forced to check his bed every night in case a poisonous Yavinian centipede had wandered in, but it had also offered places to turn to when he sought solitude–jungle trees that he could lean against instead of the frozen rock wall at his back now.

At best, Hoth could offer him a barely habitable tundra to wander onto that–conditions permitting–would host him for maybe thirty minutes before the threat of frostbite drove him back into the Rebellion’s cramped quarters. 

“Cassian?”

Even through the harsh whispers of the rising wind he recognized her voice–three, barely audible syllables and suddenly the icy air didn’t seem quite so cutting. 

Jyn marched towards him, head ducked low against the wind, arms crossed over her chest, hands clutching her elbows in a tight self-embrace. A gray hat covered her head and a scarf to match was wrapped around her neck, the end of it tucked into the parka she wore–standard-issue blue, and seemingly at least a size too large–the sleeves hanging well-past her hands. 

She stopped when she reached him and peered up at him, cheeks turned scarlet from the burning cold, loose strands of hair blowing across her face and over her brilliant green eyes. 

He’d come out here to be alone. To think. And yet, suddenly all the thoughts in his head seemed out of reach, as did any semblance of speech. 

“What are you doing out here?” she asked incredulously. 

Cassian cleared his throat and gestured upwards. “You just missed it.”

“Missed what? I didn’t know there were any new arrivals scheduled today…”

He shook his head. “No, not a ship. Sky.”

Jyn tilted her head back, eyeing the infinity above them skeptically. “Pretty sure it’s still there, Cass,” she commented. 

“Clear sky,” Cassian elaborated. “Blue sky. Remember that?”

“I’ve heard of it,” she laughed, and the sound was meant for his ears (as all sounds are), but somehow it wasn’t something he heard so much as felt–winding its way through him, leaving warmth and energy in its wake, before settling somewhere against his heart. 

“Cass? Hello?”

“Sorry.” Cassian blinked, snow from his eyelashes melting against his cheeks and blurring his vision. “What did you say?”

Jyn rolled her eyes. “I asked if it was worth it, but I think I have my answer. The cold’s clearly gone to your brain.” She turned her back to the wall and leaned against it beside him, looking at him expectantly. 

It wasn’t the cold making him so addle-minded, Cassian knew it wasn’t that. No, it was something far more daunting, far more potent, and definitely not as easily shaken.

Jyn looked away from him, out onto the increasingly hazy landscape. “Were you really just out here to look at the sky?” she asked quietly.

She knew the truth, or at least part of it. She always did. He didn’t know how, but she did, the same way he knew he didn’t have to answer her–that she didn’t expect him to. His silence would say enough.

“It’s suffocating in there,” she murmured. “Not enough light, not enough air.”

“Too many people,” he added quietly.

She nodded. “Too many,” she agreed. “But out here it’s…”

“Quiet. Gives you a chance to think.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Sometimes.”

She peered at him from beneath frost-covered lashes. Lips quirked in a pensive, knowing smile. “What about today?”

Today? Today his eyes had been drawn to Jyn the moment she entered the mess hall; had followed her every step with a sort of dizzying wonder that was at once exhilarating and terrifying. Today Chirrut, sitting beside him, had nudged him pointedly and asked, ‘What are you waiting for, Captain?’

But there wasn’t a single answer, there was an entire swarm of doubts that continued to plague him. 

It had been months since Scarif. Most of it he had spent recovering from his injuries. All of it, he had spent wondering why he could face death more easily than he could face life, face her and all she represented. Hope. Happiness. Home.  

He had come outside to think, hoping the bracing cold might clear his head and deliver an answer. He knew how he felt about her, knew what he wanted. What he was searching for was the courage to try–to choose a future that extended beyond the next mission; something permanent and lasting and full of possibilities. Something not for the Rebellion, but for himself. Something to be shared…

“Today, it was a good thing,” he said at last. It was a good thing because having Jyn in his thoughts, even if they were anxious ones, was still having Jyn there, with him–a sudden, strange, and unexpected source of strength and light. 

She pushed herself off the rock wall and stepped in front of him, so close he could see the individual hairs that were caught up in her eyelashes, fixed in place by her hat and the wind. “Tell me about them,” she said. “The good thoughts.”

Waking up in the infirmary to find her there, resting at his bedside, arms folded beneath her head… 

Hearing her laugh for the first time, a proper laugh as he and K2 bickered over something inane; he’d forgotten the fight the moment he heard the sound, caught himself automatically smiling in response… 

Her surprising patience during his recovery, tempering his own frustrations; the way she’d always been there to sit with him in silence after a particularly trying day… 

A quiet corner of the galaxy, somewhere verdant and warm and free of war; Jyn standing beside him,  always beside him…

Instead of answering, he found himself pinning the fingertips of one of his gloves between his back and the rock and tugging his hand free. His breath caught in his chest as he slowly reached towards her face, gently sweeping a finger over the surface of her forehead, sliding the hair away from her eyes. 

He should have dropped his hand after that, should have pulled away, but instead, his palm moved instinctively to cup her cheek, the softness of her skin serving in stark contrast to the bite of the air around it. 

Jyn stared at him, something unreadable in her eyes as she searched his face. “Your fingers are cold,” she said softly, even as she slowly removed her own gloves and reached for his hands, tugged his remaining glove away. “Let me warm them up…”

Time seemed to slow down as she folded her hands over his own, squeezing lightly, before bringing his fingers to her open mouth and breathing onto them, the warmth of her seeping into the chilled surface of his skin, setting fire to his stuttering heart. 

“Jyn…” he murmured, but anything he might have thought to say to her stuck in his throat, forgotten and useless. 

He leaned closer, till the breath that had been warming his hands was ghosting across his lips instead. And for a moment, that was all there was, just the sound and feel of their breathing: a whispered question so powerful, it blocked even the howl and bite of the rising storm. 

Their eyes locked and held, the beginning notes of a song hanging in the air between them…

Cassian answered the call, tilting forward to press an eager kiss to Jyn’s lips. 

A pleased hum buzzed against his mouth, matching the pull of her forming smile. She released his hands and leaned her weight against him as she rose to her toes, reaching to wind her fingers around his neck and into his hair.

He wrapped his arms around her, tightened the embrace, a wild melody tearing through him like thunder through spring air, full of promise. 

When they parted, they did so slowly, scattering short kisses across cheeks and noses, and unable to resist one last deep, lingering kiss, before finally leaning away, just enough to clearly see each other’s faces. 

The smug grin Jyn was giving him forced a soft laugh from Cassian. “What’s this look about?” he asked. 

“Took you long enough,” she said softly as she stepped backwards, dragging the start of a trail in the deepening snow. “Now come on, you’ve been out here long enough–and I’ve got some ideas on how we can get warm.”

The plummeting temperatures didn’t seem capable of reaching him–not with the shadow of their kiss persisting on his lips–but Cassian didn’t bother to resist. 

Jyn tugged gently on his arm, and he gladly followed

[soupandsimple]

Never Any Doubt (With Remus Lupin)

[ meeting Teddy for the first time ]

* fluff! 🐻

** singledad! Remus , non-magic au :)

This was requested: see the ask here

……………………..

After two months of dating, you were long at last meeting Remus’s four year old son.

Teddy was his name and from the start, Remus had told you his mother wasn’t in the picture. That she had left them as soon as she recovered from the birth, stating something about wanting her freedom instead of being tied down to a husband and a baby. It was absolutely heartbreaking to learn but Remus assured you they were far better off without her than they ever would have been with her.

Arriving at Remus’s cottage, you knocked on the door and waited for an answer. It took no time at all for Remus to appear and open the door wide for you to walk on in.

Steps inside now, you spot Teddy patiently sitting on the couch, no doubt waiting for your arrival. Although you’d seen pictures of him before, he was definitely even more adorable in person.

“Hi” you enthused with a little wave, coat hung over your arms.

“Hi” he quietly said back.

“Teddy, this is Y/N…” Remus introduced you. “You know, the pretty girl from the picture you’ve seen in my wallet?”

Teddy nodded with a subtle smile. He had caught a glimpse of the picture one day when Remus was paying the ice cream man. Once seated down with their treats, Teddy just HAD to know who the ‘pretty girl’ in the picture was because as far as he knew, his picture was the only one tucked in his daddy’s wallet.

“Here let me take that for you” Remus said, taking your coat to hang up in the front closet.

You smiled graciously then walked over to Teddy. You sat on the cushion of the couch farthest away from him to give him space.

“I’ve heard so much about you from your daddy. I’m so happy to finally be meeting you!”

Remus came back over while Teddy shyly giggled at your comment. He sat in the empty cushion between you and the little boy and instantly, Teddy hid his face into his side.

“Little shy are we?” Remus commented, gently pushing back wisps of the boy’s hair.

“Hey, don’t tease. This is something new, of course we’re both feeling shy right now and it’s perfectly okay” you told Remus but more so for Teddy to know there was nothing wrong with what he was feeling.

Remus quickly broke into a smile at your instant need to protect his little boy. You had communicated to him before that you didn’t feel worthy enough to meet Teddy yet but here you were, proving yourself wrong.

“You’re right, I’m sorry” Remus thoughtfully replied. “Why don’t we watch some tv” he suggested, to ease a bit of the pressure.

Remus turned the television screen on and changed it to Teddy’s favorite cartoon about a little bear.

“Oooo I love this show. Teddy, is it your favorite?” you asked although you already knew the answer.

Unaware of what you did/didn’t know about him, Teddy nodded excitedly, “Uh-huh.”

In actuality, you didn’t love the show but you were familiar with it having watched it a couple of times with some kids you used to babysit.

The show allowed for small conversation here and there between the three of you which in turn made Teddy quickly become more comfortable with you.

“I have all of them in my room you know..” Teddy stated with a pointed finger to the screen, referring to all the characters in the show.

“Really? The whole collection?” you exclaimed.

Teddy nodded proudly, “You can come to my room and see them if you want. Can we show her my room, daddy?” he asked Remus.

“Of course we can,” Remus said standing up with you following suit. Teddy led the way with a little march in his step as you stayed behind with Remus who had initiated hand holding.

Once getting to his bedroom, Teddy ran to open his toy chest. “Look Y/N, they’re in here!”

You let go of Remus’s hand and peeked down into the chest and saw a bundle of medium sized stuffed animals. “Oh wow, they’re all there!”

“I put them there to sleep at night but sometimes I forget to take them out in the morning” he giggled.

Teddy then began showing you everything else he had in his room while Remus sat at the edge of the little twin sized bed, treasuring this moment of his son and girlfriend finally together.

While showing you his train set though (a train set that by the way, you were present for when Remus l originally purchased it), Teddy suddenly went to whisper something in Remus’s ear but since it was so quiet in the room you were able to hear it all.

“Daddy, I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Well go, we’ll wait for you right here,” Remus replied to him in an equal whisper.

Teddy then ran out of the room and you couldn’t help but smile at the gentle interaction between your boyfriend and his son.

Remus stretched out a hand for you to take and when you took it, he pulled you in to stand between his legs which you took as an invitation to sit on one of his thighs.

“I’m so glad this is finally happening. He really likes you, but there was never any doubt about that to begin with.”

“He’s the sweetest thing. You’ve done such a good job with him, but there was never any doubt about that to begin with either,” you complimented back.

Remus scanned your face with a handsome smile that made you blush terribly, so for some relief you looked down at your hand that was still intertwined with his.

With a finger, he picked your chin up so you were looking back at him and just as he began slowly leaning in for a kiss you heard …

“Daddy! There’s no more toilet paper!”

Remus squeezed his eyes shut and chuckled at the interruption while you joined in with a giggle.

“Go” you told him giddily.

“Okay, but you owe me” he joked as you stood up so he could stand. He then headed straight to Teddys aide, but not without giving you a quick kiss on the cheek first. <3

[dany-is-my-queen]

A Question of Loyalty IX

Rhaenyra Targaryen x reader, Alicent Hightower x reader

Word count: 3.1k

@nnightskiess this one’s for you

Summary: When dragons of green and dragons of black dance, you have to choose the color that suits you best.

Your heart was heavy all the way back to the Capital. You struggled with a part of you that refused to head back and go to your Realm’s Delight.

But she wouldn’t be with you, she had her husband, she’s always had someone else.

You thought you were done with being so torn between them. Done with the drama that came along, but Gods be good, you were far from it.

Once inside the walls, you tried your best not to crop up too fazed, too sadden about the fact that this decision has cost you a lot.

Alicent scuttled to your room as soon as you walked through the gates, her entity beyond relieved that you didn’t break your promise. And to be honest, she wasn’t really anticipating a positive reply from Rhaenrya.

“Your Grace.” You saluted, glumness coloring you. You did attempt to disguise it, to no avail. Though you welcomed her presence with rapture.

She sprang into your arms before you could even register her steps. She then proceeded to grab your lips effervescently, she was a teenager once more.. tasting her all-time lady of her dreams. You reciprocated with the same energy, she felt so right.

“Pardon me, my lady. I missed you.” She apologized, flustered from her needy manners.

“I was only gone for a few days.” You joked. She caressed you as if your skin were made of the most fragile porcelain.

“You never know when they could be the last.”

“I missed you too.” You intertwined your hands and prepare to talk.

“How did it go? Given that you are here thanks the Gods, I believe categorically good for us?”

“Daemon did aim to throw me in the dungeons.”

“Of course Rhaenyra wouldn’t let that happen.”

“No. She wouldn’t. It’s better if we consult this with the small council.”

“Yes. We’ll be gathered later this afternoon. You want to repose?”

“My back would appreciate some rest, yeah.”

“I’ll you be then. See you later, Y/N.”

Maybe Alicent got the wrong impression that you were bothered by her person, so you decided to make her linger a bit longer.

“I thought you said you missed you?”

“I did.”

“You’re going.”

“I don’t want to disturb my lady’s rest.” She responded.

“Come to bed with me.” You didn't have to ask her twice for her to join you. Her head resting on your chest, your heartbeat her favorite melody. She was so happy to exist in this very moment, and so were you.

“Were you.. tempted to stay?” She asked. You closed your eyes, picturing the newborn. You knew then you couldn’t lie to her, thus, you spoke sincerely.

“Rhaenyra’s babe lives.” You glimpsed a genuine smile on her.

“How did she name her?”

“I’d have thought that something like Vysenia or Aemma would do.”

“She named her like you. Didn’t she?”

“She did.”

“Was it tempting?” Alicent’s voice trembled with soreness. You shifted your position to lock both your lips in a sweet manner, swiftly. “Don’t dodge my question, Y/N.” She said sharply. “It was.”

“I didn’t see my parents. Nor any of the children.”

“You weren’t introduced to the babe, then?” Alicent would’ve wager that Rhaenyra put you between a rock and a hard place while taking advantage to soften your heart at the sight of her newborn. She was surprised to learn that she didn’t.

“No. Rhaenyra despises me.”

“She could never despise you.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain.”

“You did the right thing, Y/N.”

Shortly after slumber took over Alicent, her breathing pumped composedly in her chest, where the palm of your hand was laying.

You wished right there and then that you could make her feel at ease forever, for you were worried about what could and would come next.

In the late afternoon, the small council chamber was bitterly cold, gelid. The candles were not enough to fill the vacuum that hovered over the room.

“I suppose my sister and her flock will be arriving anytime now to bend the knee.” Aegon spoke, the other members watched you expectantly, so did the Dowager Queen.

“The negotiating.. took part.” You apprehensively asserted.

“And?” Otto mouthed.

“She said we will have an answer soon.”

“No answer’s arrived.” He commented again. Your irritation grew more and more at his insistence.

“She claims the Targaryen princelings had been led into iniquity. And that she would pardon them, if they ask for her mercy.” You revealed. Alicent began fidgeting as usual but halted rapidly. Otto scowled.

“Does she honestly believe we’ll be crawling at her to beg for compassion for us? She’s gone mad.” Aegon angrily refuted.

“Aegon—, Your Grace, it’d be wise to consider all options. Rhaenyra does not wish to slaughter any of you. She wouldn’t—“

“Are you really advising the one true King of Westeros to abandon his crown and deliver it to the feet of the woman that would tear the Kingdoms asunder? And worse, after her would come her bastardly offspring. Not to mention Daemon would be the one pulling the strings regarding all the Realm’s affairs. We all know of his nature, of what he is capable. Perhaps the Princess might show buoyancy towards the matter, but I, we, doubt the Rogue Prince would do the same.” Otto stirred. “Not to mention this was late King Visery‘s dying wish. Can’t she respect her father’s last will?”

“What side are you even on, my lady?” Alicent inquired, she was fuming.

“Neither of us wish to see the Realm put to the torch.” You phrased.

“So, if we do not do as she bids, she’ll burn this city to the ground, and onto the next one?” Tyland Lannister spouted.

“She won’t.”

“Do you have any guarantees, lady Y/N? She has the full support of your father’s fleet, your mother’s dragon—“

“I’m hoping it won’t come to that. I know the Queen, my lord.” You bit your tongue at your blunder.

“Rhaenrya’s no Queen.” Alicent spat, her raucous voice was enough to send her discontent towards you, and the manner you were approaching the once princess.

“Her and..” The thought of y/n’s father got stuck in your throat as an acidulous, puncturing throb pierced you. You loathed Daemon, always have; but now it would seem that that hatred only escalated even further. “Daemon’s child, she lives. The news nigh caused her a miscarriage. We do not intend to become murderers of innocents.”

“If you’re so concerned about my sister and her family’s welfare, why don’t you fly back to them, uh?” Aegon taunted.

Otto narrowed his eyes at you because he was self assured that even if you were actually contemplating it, you wouldn’t do it.

Lord Wylde chimed in. “Lady Y/N’s parents are with the pretender. What’s the warranty that she won’t stab us in the back first chance she gets? What if she already sold her loyalty to the enemy? She even called her Queen. Who’s to say they didn’t orchestrate a plan to dethrone His Grace?” Otto was serene, knew you wouldn’t be so stupid to do something of that nature.

Alicent refrained peeping your way, too afraid to catch a note of doubt and that hurt you.

“I did nothing of the sort, lord Wylde. I am sworn to King Aegon. And I’m not the type of woman who stabs in the back.” You declared grievously, for it was legit, you had no intention of playing dirty and deceive the Greens, yet you wished you could aid to avoid mass homicide.

“Lord Flea Bottom would be the one ruling. We actually want that to occur? You are aware of how deals with things, my lady.” Ser Tyland pressed.

“Rhaenrya won’t give up her birthright that easily.”

“That’s why my daughter, the Queen, sent you, to treat with her. What a poor job you did. Achieved nothing and brought ultimatums to our doorstep. You care about her too much to retaliate the way you were suppose to.” Alicent finally looked straight your way. She was pissed off by her father, and by the truth of his statement.

She abandoned the chambers with hustle, felt her feet, head and emotions ablaze. You followed after her with the same pace, whilst the men left behind were trying to comprehend the Dowager Queen’s queer bearing.

“Alicent— Alicent wait!” She didn’t, in fact she quickened it. You cornered her, halting her from escaping you, you agilely propelled her against the cold panel, she groaned, the rubbing of your breasts against hers caused her to flustered, as if you haven’t been in this position before… perhaps she was merely afraid of someone walking in you.

“You still love her.” She formulated, barely inches away.

“There’s just one I love.” You sincerely shot.

She realized how childish she was behaving, yet she steered clear from your intense gaze. “You worry for her, care for her.”

“I do, Alicent. Of course I do. I’ll never stop caring about her.” You confessed, she squeezed her eyes harshly as you cupped her face.

“You do realize how that makes me feel?”

“I chose you. What else do you need as a proof? I’m telling you now, literally telling you you’re the one I want. I’ve showed you with actions, for I know they speak way louder than words. Isn't that sufficient for you?” You whined, guilt and shame poisoned her.

“It is, Y/N. It is. I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” But Alicent knew too well what did.

-

Prior Jace’s birth, prior the beginning of the inevitable, you basked in your life. Rhaenyra bore her heart and offered a sincere apology days ago, and Alicent was beyond happy that you decided to remain in the Keep.

You were touring the newest tapestries that were given as a gift from Braavos, these ones were not nearly as vulgar as the last ones though. You were viewing them alongside the Queen and Helaena.

“These are fine designs.” The delicate princess tried to touch them and you and Alicent giggled. She was hanging from your arms.

“I fancied the others better.” You both turned to see another silver head approaching. She wore a cheering smirk. “Your Grace, lady Y/N.” She saluted smoothly. “& princess Helaena. Good morning.”

“Morning, Rhaenyra.” Alicent replied without interest, even annoyed that she popped in to interrupt this moment.

“Princess.” You smiled warmly at her.

“Oh, how’s my little sister doing?” She gingerly kneaded her tiny arm, the baby reciprocated the affection with a tender look. “May I?” She requested to carry her in her own arms which Alicent consented, Helaena tangled her small body around her big sister for dear life, and appeared to enjoy being with her so much. “Aren’t you the loveliest girl there is? Look at those gorgeous baby blues!”

“Just like yours.” You lipped with joy.

“She got them from me, no questions asked. Excellent family trait.”

The interaction melted your heart, but made Alicent somewhat awkward.

“It was kind of the Sealords of Essos to deliver these fine presents. They are surely expecting one from us in return.” Alicent suggested, trying to make her presence noticed.

“They are not getting the lady they intend to pursue.” You chuckled modestly cause you knew she was alluding to you. Whoever else?

“The lady might be won over if offered something worth her while.” You quipped, Alicent clumsy frowned whilst Rhaenyra merely let out a chortle.

“Wouldn’t bet my heart on it.” She winked at you unabashedly. She peck Helaena on the forehead as she made her exit towards the other side of the yard. “My Queen, My Lady.” She emphasized the “my” as she sprinted away from you. You watched after her drooling, Alicent pretended she didn’t notice your everlasting infatuation, she managed so hard to keep a steady glance. She hid it well.

“So.. come over later to put Helaena to sleep? She adores your Valyrian lullabies.”

“I’ll be there.”

The afternoon rushed by and you were ready to leave for Alicent's quarters, for you knew that she never let her daughter out of her sight for a minute.

You stepped outside your door when a tepid hand enfolded your mouth. Your heart skipped a beat. Rhaenyra no longer could hold back her laughter at your stiffed body.

You gasped once she released her grasp. You nudged her and she laughed even harder.

“You startled me Rhaenyra!”

“Did I now?” She played coy lifting one of her eyebrows and folding her arms.

“Aye, you did. I thought I was getting snatched away.” You alleged supposedly furious, but you were not a half.

“You’re glad it was just me.”

“Nah. Wish it was someone else. That way I wouldn’t have to deal with your insufferable being.”

“Is that bad, huh?”

“Worse.” You kept on jesting. “What brings you here?”

“I came to steal you away.” She confessed effortlessly.

“Steal me?”

“I was planning on sending you a note inviting you to take a ride on our dragons, but I thought it would be much more convincing to deliver the message myself."

“I.. uhm. I’d love to.”

“But? C’mon Y/N.. it’s been ages since we took a flight together. I’ve missed it dearly.”

“So have I. I’d really love to join you but I promised Alicent I’d go to tend to your baby sister.”

“Your Princess will be heartbroken if you decline her invitation, you know? You don’t want to carry such burden. Trust me.”

“Basically she’s also my princess.”

“You want to please her?” And now you knew she was referring to Alicent.

“I want to spend time with both, Rhaenyra.”

“We barely spend any time alone anymore..”

You contemplated her for a fleeting second before giving in. “How could I deny something from my Realm’s Delight?”

“Don’t you dare.” And off you went to the Dragon Pit, pride on her countenance.

Surely Alicent wouldn’t really mind.. she’d understand. It's not as if you often stood her up.

“Ah! It feels just like the first time.”

“So fucking bold of you to get atop Syrax when you were only seven. What drove you?”

“Just wanted to impress a girl.”

“A girl?”

“Jealous?”

“Not at all. I know there’s only one girl you had pinned after.”

“Careful now. The wind might carry this information and place it in her ears. Imagine her commotion.”

“Rather excitement. Don’t you agree?”

“Do you think she’s enamored of me, as I am of her?”

“Go ask her. Make her spill the truth.”

All of the sudden Rhaenyra unfastened the belt that clenched her to her saddle, you widen your eyes as you tried to register her quick movements.

Thankfully, both Syrax and Silverwing were literally clashing their wings, Rhaenyra landed right on the back of your seat, also, thankfully your dragon was carrying two saddles. Gods, did Rhaenyra even made sure before launching herself into it?”

“Seemingly, I’m still as bold.”

“What in the seven hells Rhaenyra!” You screamed with your guts in your sleeve. “You could have fell. And what then? Uh? What then?”

“Relax, Y/N. Relax. I had it all calculated. Besides, sometimes you gotta take a leap of faith.”

“But what if—“

“There’s no what ifs here. I’m safely wrapped around your waist, am I not?” She amusingly countered.

“Please don’t do that again.”

“You think the lady I’m in love with would miss me that badly?”

“She.. she would. I’m confident she would.”

Rhaenyra was more than tempted to do things she ought not to.. things unfit of her. It’s been long since she had you all for herself without anyone in the way.

It was only her and you, and.. Silverwing. Syrax was flying around, like a personal guard, which you found enthralling.

You were rulers of the sky.

She resisted her desires.. her craving for you. She kept her hands in your lower stomach, frosting them into place halting them from roaming off to forbidden places. She wanted to take you right there, she would’ve in another time. Maybe she did, maybe the clouds were witnesses of an act of pure love and lust.. in another life.

“Gaomagon ao pendagon pōnta jāhor mazōregon issa hae pōja dāria skori se jēda māzigon?” (Do you think they will accept me as their queen when the time comes?)

“Pōnta jāhor emagon naejot. Nyke jāhor” (They will have to. I will.)

“Jāhor ao nykeōragon ondoso issa?” (Will you stand by me?)

“Va moriot.” (Always)

“Pār konīr’s daorun naejot zūgagon.” (Then there’s nothing to fear)

“Imagine a purple sky with freckled stars dangling all over. Not an afternoon, not a night.. just, something in between.” You said. Rhaenyra tightened her grip and tucked her head into your shoulder. You could feel her thick breathing in your neck, it was intoxicating you and for all the Gods you swore you’d stay up here for eternity.

“You beat all fantasies.. all phenomenas. You are a wonder yourself. An angel dressed in armor.” The princess let on, which caused you to flush as the dusk sun itself. Not even the cold air blowing was enough to extinguish the heat that rose in you. You felt so loved.

“That’s what your lady paramour would love to hear from you. Why waste such enchanting words on me?”

“I’m wonderstruck by the view that is you. I could literally spend the rest of my life watching you. If you need to win, then I’ll always gladly lose, if that means I get to be with you.”

Rhaenyra’s lips made you reach an endless heaven.

And for all it’s worth.. you wished you could command Silverwing to take you to that Island, steal her from your brother and marry her once and for all, for you knew she was bound to you with an incredibly, strongly force.

-

You know you’ve failed her.. you’ve broken your vow, you didn’t stand by her.

And she remembered.

-

The next morning, there was still no word from Dragonstone, and that worried you a lot.

You were summoned to Alicent’s quarters by Ser Criston, Lord Larys was just exiting her chambers with his usual creepy smirk. You paid him no heed as you entered them.

“Your Grace.”

“Aemond was instructed to go to Storm’s End, he’ll negotiate with Lord Baratheon to gain his support.”

“His support? His house is pledged to Rhaenyra.”

“So was my house, so were you. We need to secure every ally we can before she or Daemon does. They’ll start doing the same in no time, if not they’ve already began. We cannot appear to be weak nor taken by surprise.”

“I hope he strikes a good deal then.”

“He will. We are counting on him.” Alicent said.

You were a traitor.

Tagging: @loveislove4 @evattude @lethal-minds @sophiexoxsblog @sunshove @tired-ninfa @glorioushamsterqueen @lesbicentism @newcaptainofsquad9 @pindoris @oh-thats-cute @rxscpctals @laenordeservedbetter @voniikg @bugwritesstuff @letlovee-in

[voluptuarian]

Favorite Movie Costumes (pt. 1)

Recently got the line-up-your-toys urge to list and discuss my favorite tv and movie costumes-- my favorites are many and tumblr's image limit is low, so I'm not sure how many posts this'll eventually spread to, but here's the first crop.

The Queen's red gown - The Brother's Grimm

I don't think anyone on earth wanted to love this movie more than I did when it came out-- sadly, the film itself was generally a letdown. However, its costumes absolutely delivered, which should come as no surprise since they were designed by Gabriella Pescucci. The costumes for Monica Belluci's queen are my favorites of all, but this piece, the one she wears for most of the movie, may be my favorite costume of all time.

The costume has several iterations; it's paired most prominently with her enormous horned headdress (my fave), but she also wears it with a more delicate tiara.

Marianne de Morangias' red riding habit - Brotherhood of the Wolf

Although Brotherhood of the Wolf is far from a good movie, I have a terrible soft spot for it, which is mostly due to its wonderful costumes, including a crowd of hunting costumes throughout, none more gorgeous than the one Marianne's debuts during the film's first hunt.

I probably owe my love of riding habits to American Girl's Felicity and her swoon-worthy green velvet habit-- they are sadly underused in movies (meanwhile Marianne not only wears this red habit, but also shows off an equally beautiful green one later.)

Christine Daae's masquerade dress - The Phantom of the Opera

Fun fact, I watched this movie as a teenager (after falling in with the inescapable junior high theater nerd crowd, who tried unsuccessfully to use this as a gateway drug to getting me hooked on musicals), then forgot about the vast majority of the costumes, and stumbled upon it again years later without realizing it was from a movie and completely fell in love with it.

I'm very fond of the early 1870s silhouette in general, long trains in particular, and the back of this one is what really sold me. The frothy layers of chiffon?? the flowers?? the graceful tiered bustle?? Obsessed. (Another fun fact, this is one of the references I always bring up when discussing potential wedding dresses.)

Imogen Spurnrose's red ensemble - Carnival Row

I know, another red velvet number ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Imogen's wardrobe is full of lovely quasi-Victorian pieces, but this one had me GASPING when it came on screen. These pictures do not do the color or vibrancy of that jacket justice!

Geilis Duncan's white ballgown - Outlander

I'm usually not a fan of stripped down historical styles, especially ones this anachronistic, but something about the minimalist design of this dress just charmed me.

It reminds of in some way of artistic undress in 17th century portraits, and the lightness of the colors and material has this clean, airy, almost White Lady quality to it, and the simplicity and limited accessorizing really brings out the period silhouette. (Also I adore lover's eyes).

Vanessa Ives' lace blouse - Penny Dreadful

Vanessa has a gorgeous wardrobe (Gabriella Pescucci hitting it out of the park again) containing a number of delicate black and white blouses, but this one is my favorite.

The design is not that complex, but the wealth of tiny details, especially the petal shaped blackworked collar and cuffs, give it a huge visual punch; paired with the decorative belt and beautiful black skirt it's a very unique look that shows off some of the most beautiful elements of the period (last photo courtesy @periodcostumefantasylover)

Lorna's church dress - Lorna Doone

YES another red number. And what a red!! This miniseries is so obscure I had to do my own (butt ugly) screencaps off Youtube, but despite being a fairly modest production, they do some nice 17th century looks in it.

This dress is glimpsed for a moment as Lorna catches sight of her separated lover through the crowd-- very dramatic, but unfortunately it means getting a good look at the beautiful dress is hard, but I did my best: here's the actual scene, if you want a better look (and I'd recommend the series, too!)

Virginia Wilson's Worth dress - 1899

Big shock, the replica House of Worth dress made it in *Oprah shrug* I've adored the original dress for years, so I went nuts seeing it on the show! On top of just top tier everything, the costuming on 1899 was great, and the fact that they decided to throw this dress in was just the cherry on top.

There are some minimal differences between this dress and its inspiration, most notably the change in pattern-- Virginia's dress not only incorporates the alchemical logo like all the rest of the characters, but the rounded edges in the original are all made jagged to match it, as you can really see in the last photo.

---- on to part 2!

[definitively-different-drivel]

WIP Wednesday game

Yo! I was tagged by @whimsicalmeerkat and @dear-massacre I'd tag folks but I suspect they've all been tagged already. It's also a bit late, so I'll just get on with it. Here's a bit of my latest brain worm that I put some words in on this week. Fair warning, it's full rough draft, no real editing done. Premise is that Stiles finds himself slipping into alternate realities and quickly realizes something's gone terribly wrong with his magic. Anyway, here's some of what I have so far on Falling out of Rhythm:

It started out innocuously enough.

Stiles had a dream. Any other dream and he'd be concerned at just how real it felt, but this?

He sat up in a warm, dark room, scattered with pictures of Derek and Stiles, of pack both known and lost and living. A warm, gravely voice spoke from the bed as Stiles' hand rested on the doorknob. "Stiles?"

"Derek?"

He heard Derek roll towards the door. "You'll wake the family. Come back."

Stiles chewed his lip. "But-"

"You really want to face my mom?"

Stiles hesitated; he shook his head. Everything felt fuzzy, muted. He could hear Derek shift, waking in his concern. "Sorry, had a weird dream."

It wasn't a lie. This was definitely a weird dream, but he didn't want it to end, not with Derek's arms wrapped around him beneath ungodly soft blankets as the crescent moon peeked over the horizon, casting eerie tones across the sleep-rumpled bedding.

He couldn't help it. Sleep took him, depositing him back in his own bed with Stiles none the wiser.

It went on like that for a while. Stiles came to enjoy the prospect of sleep. It didn't get too awkward even though you'd think it would, catching dream-glimpses of lives that weren't his own, but Derek was always there.

Things weren't perfect in all of them. They weren't perfect in most of them. Plenty of the strangely vivid dreams showed evidence of tragic pasts, like the dreams that saw them sitting on the steps of the Hale mansion, silently sitting before the wreckage of Derek's family.

Others, though, saw glimpses he grew to love.

His favorite glimpses were those with his mom, as much as it hurt. She seemed so vibrant and alive, so thoroughly her that he couldn't help blending into the play, pretending the dream were true.

He really should have known better.

Light streamed through the windows as his dad sat at the table, sipping coffee as he surveyed files from the station. Stiles set a pate at his elbow, earning a look from his dad.

"Eggwhites, Stiles, really?" "No heart attacks on my watch, old man." He settled into his seat. He almost missed the covert fork that snatched a bit of Stiles' double-yolked monstrosity. "Hey!"

They fell into easy bickering as Stiles sought for supremacy in a mock-battle over delicious, terrible yolky forbiddenness.

One moment, he was denying his dad artery-clogging danger, the next, he was perched atop a picnic table overlooking the most spectacular view of his life. Fading rays of light painted the sunset brilliant shades of purple and blue as they reflected off endless waves.

It took his breath away.

He found himself leaning against a warm, strong frame; fingers traced through his hair. He closed his eyes, resisting the urge to count fingers. His heart ticked up; he rationalized. This had to be a dream. Maybe he'd developed narcolepsy? He didn't want to go, didn't want to acknowledge that this wasn't-

The fingers stopped. Derek made a noise of concern.

"I'm alright." He wasn't. Derek tensed. He corrected himself, "Or, I will be."

"You sure?"

Stiles leaned into the touch. It occurred to him, in a vague sort of way, that he should be freaking out, but everything felt so fucking right. He sat there, curled against Derek until he flicked back into his own reality.

It was the most natural thing in the world.

The sunset blinked out; he was staring down through misty eyes at a photo album as his dad fretted.

"Stiles?" His mouth went dry. "I think I need to talk to Deaton."

[mahuhumaling]

why this silent moment from EP. 12 is one of my top 5 fav bbs scenes

EXT./INT. SIRIDECHAWAT RESIDENCE — NIGHT

so we open with Dissaya bringing Pran's bedsheet onto his childhood room.

i think it was Charlie Gillespie who said that there's something actors do that never gets talked about by viewers: they act out the space that they're in.

this means that to fully inhabit a character, not only do they have to pretend that they've known their whole lives the scene partners whom they're merely acquaintances with (because they play as their family), but also the physical location.

they have to pretend that the built sets or shooting locations are places they've lived in their whole lives, and the way P'Ple and Nanon act inside the Siridechawat House is a perfect example.

not once do we get a feeling of unfamiliarity in their body when they interact with the objects in the rooms.

there's a great sense of nostalgia in Dissaya's eyes and smile.

it's clear she hasn't been in this bedroom for a while, but it also shows that she has made a lot of memories with Pran here. here is where she raised him. she feels proud of how far he has gone and what kind of person Pran has become.

her little moment gets interrupted by Ming's noise outside, and we get a glimpse of the pink line again that is, by the way, SUCH a great little motif. a visual line that has literally divided the two houses.

here comes my favorite part. the PAUSE that Ming takes as he contemplates CROSSING the line to get to Dissaya's house. honestly i wish there was a wide shot of this instead, as Ming crosses the frame's left to right side so we can really feel the step that he takes and see it visually as a whole.

but ohhh boy, here's the real kicker: the way Dissaya looks at him. she observes first, watching and waiting, scrutinizing as if it's a challenge of "what are you going to do, huh?" you can feel the weight of the history behind that face. how much hate has seeped into years of their old friendship.

but when Ming puts the letters into their mailbox, Dissaya's face dissolves to almost a sense of relief (?), because she has kept her guard up for so long that she's so used to the default of petty fights masquerading the real animosity between the two of them, that she almost couldn't believe that Ming would be man enough to let one kind gesture pass by. or that he's even still capable of doing so.

the hate has clouded her judgment, it's obvious, though we can't fault her for it.

but here, in a few seconds, it clears.

lastly, it cuts to a picture of young Pran, reminding Dissaya that on top of the betrayal and the hate and the anger, what matters most is her love for her only son.

the past few episodes have also emphasized Pran as an only son, and there's a special connection and bond they share that I'm sure a lot of only children relate to.

no dialogue, no internal monologue to show what Dissaya is thinking.

just pure performance, and music.

music.

we all know that it (represented by the guitar) is the ultimate metaphor for Pran's love for and relationship with Pat, right?

so naturally, Ming's little act earlier created a sort of domino effect: Dissaya brings out the guitar from when she overheard her husband and Pran talking about where it was hidden. she takes it out herself and leaves it on the bed for Pran to notice, a silent understanding between parent and child. (...very Asian parenting. add in some sliced fruits, why don't ya?)

Dissaya's love for Pran outweighs her hate for Ming. in fact, it heals.

[x.]

MY TOP 5 FAVORITE BAD BUDDY SCENES

(In no actual order)

3 - Broken Bus Stop Redesigning

5 - Fight in the Dorm Parking Lot

10 - Pran Sings "Our Song" Draft

10 - InkPa in the Darkroom

12 - Dissaya Watches Ming

[magpie-to-the-morning]

Forbidden Fruit

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: The Thief x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2.2k

Tags: Public nudity, explicit consent, breast worship, voice kink, fingering (female receiving)

Author’s Note: This story wouldn’t exist without two Kinktober requests! Thank you to @massivecolorspygiant for requesting Table Sex with the Thief, and @nolanell for requesting Voice Kink with him. You are my muses and I’m very grateful.

Thank you also to @radiowallet , who not only betaed this fic and contributed one of my favorite lines (hint: 🎁), but inspired me to attempt the Thief in the first place. If you haven’t read Radiant with Thief!Marcus and his Little Ghost, what are you even doing??

My Masterlist | Kinktober Masterlist

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

A richly timbred male voice curls around you like smoke, the subtle smirk sending skitters down your spine. It’s difficult to see him from your prone position on the polished mahogany table, and if you move or lift your head, you run the risk of tipping the artfully arranged forest fruits and delicate pastries laid over you, exposing your naked body to the guests thronging the banquet hall. You steal glimpses through the slits in your exquisitely molded black lace mask: broad shoulders swathed in silk. Softly curling chestnut hair shot through with strands of silver. Plush, smiling lips, made for secrets - although telling or keeping, you can’t quite decide. Dark, hooded eyes amused with what they see, even through a mask.

His is more daring than any you’ve seen so far. Black leather tooled to resemble scales, the features artfully twisted into an amused smirk, the whole piece adorned with two twisting horns, the very picture of a storybook demon.

Your attention drifts to him again and again, drawn unerringly and unbidden like a moth to a jeweled lantern’s flame. You’re forbidden to have any contact with the guests at this party but as you aren’t moving or speaking, surely it won’t hurt to brush your wings against the tinted glass.

By the time the talk is winding down and the guests have begun to take their seats, you are trembling so hard with suppressed desire that the crystal wine glasses begin to rattle. No one seems to notice. No one except the man in the embroidered silk coat. His lips curve behind the single finger he raises to them as you exchange a furtive glance.

Quiet, he seems to urge. Don’t give the game away.

When you give a barely perceptible nod, his eyes light with mischief, sending a thrill straight to your aching center.

After that, the game is well and truly on.

Some of the bolder guests have begun to lift food from the serving platter of your body, but with such tentative giggles that you nearly roll your eyes at them, something not even your shapely mask would disguise.

Not your demon.

While the others count themselves brave for lifting a vol-au-vent from the crook of your elbow, he is far bolder. One by one, the slices of fruit adoring your chest disappear past his lips with evident relish, his fingers lingering longer with every touch. With an upraised eyebrow, his hand pauses over the final two berries capping your nipples. When you flash him a small, secret smile of encouragement, he swipes them both away with a featherlight touch that has you gasping. When your lips part, he slips one into your waiting mouth. Not to be outdone, you wrap your tongue around his fingers before they depart and watch the darkening flicker in his eyes with satisfaction.

Emboldened, the other guests follow his example. A woman in shimmering beetle green delights in feeding you tidbits from her hand. Someone in a plain black tuxedo comments loudly about how he’d prefer you to any of the dishes on display - though you’re more offended at his inability to dress to the evening’s theme (“Forbidden Pleasures: A Fae Feast”) than his remarks.

Your dark-eyed demon is far, far subtler. No one notices the brush of his fingers against your inner thigh, or the way your legs part, just a little, in silent invitation. By the time you’re nearly bare, the delicacies hiding your nakedness snatched away by greedy hands, his eyes are burning coals beneath his mask.

-

You were supposed to leave.

The masquerade ball following the dinner party was not for you. You were supposed to wash away the crushed berry juices from your skin, brush off the clinging flakes of pastry, collect your wages, and go.

Instead, you’ve changed into the ball gown that has valiantly resisted wrinkling despite being crammed into a garment bag. Its pomegranate silk glides over your skin like a caress, seemingly willing to forgive your rough treatment in exchange for a night out. You arrange your hair in an artful twist and slide a new mask over your features. You scarcely recognize yourself in the baroque gilt mirror before you, and it seems impossible that any of the overfed, self-satisfied guests with pockets deep enough to be here will recognize you.

Well, with one possible exception.

Hope thrums in your chest, mothwing soft but heartbeat strong and with a final glance in the mirror for courage, you set out to find your demon.

-

“There you are.”

The velvet tones of his rich voice settle around you like a cloak even before you turn to face him. His eyes dance as he takes you in, from the six garnet drops at your throat to the ruby colored gown shading to black by the time it pools at your fight like liquid darkness. A knowing smile kindles on his features not hidden beneath black leather.

“Hello, Persephone.”

A delighted laugh catches in your throat. “I didn't think anyone would notice.”

“Oh, I noticed.” He’s closer now, his breath fanning across your cheek. The embers you’ve scarcely managed to bank flare to life in your belly and it’s all you can do not to reach out and pull him into a dark alcove then and there. “I haven’t been able to stop noticing. What are you doing, slumming with these people?”

With a jerk of his artfully tousled head, he dismisses the glitterati around you, already half wasted on champagne and designer drugs, utterly blind to the wonders of their own riches. With a thrill, you realize the man standing before you doesn’t count himself as one of them, not even aspirationally.

Curiouser and curiouser.

“I’m working,” you tell him, savoring the vagueness of the explanation.

With a roguish wink, he answers “So am I.”

Intrigued, you arch an eyebrow. “Oh? And what do you do, Sir Demon?”

Leaning in so close you’re enveloped in his scent (tobacco and clove, amber and spice), he whispers “I’m a thief.”

Startled, you pull back to search his gaze. There’s humor there, but you don’t think he’s joking, not about this. If anything he’s… waiting. Curious to see how you’ll respond, urging you to play along.

For a moment, you wonder if mingling in crowds like this to steal from them is as lonely as serving them can be.

Coming to a decision, you put your lips almost to his ear and murmur “And what is it you intend to take tonight, Thief?”

Holding out one gloved hand, he says “Let me show you.”

-

He draws you into the hushed stillness of a library, empty aside from the sleeping books lining the walls, their gilt titles all but glowing in the starlight shining through an enormous plate glass window. It’s a massive space, all vaulted ceilings and shadowy stacks, an abundance of a different kind of wealth on full display.

The Thief looks on as you run a hand over the spines of the books in a gentle caress.

“Take one.”

Your fingers falter over a midnight blue spine stamped with silver stars but you shake your head, your throat suddenly thick with longing.

“I’m pretty sure they’d throw me into a literal dungeon for even trying.” The smile you attempt doesn’t quite reach your eyes but you shake it off, not wanting to spoil the magic of this one, stolen night with him.

“Well?” You prompt, the lightness back in your tone once you’ve turned to face him. “You haven’t told me what you’re here to steal. Is there a safe in here, or, ohh, is there treasure in a -“

He muffles your words with a kiss. It’s light at first, the brush of his mouth against yours, one palm cradling your jaw.

“You,” he breathes when you come up for air, starry-eyed and wondering, though not completely surprised. His thumb traces a line down your lower lip and comes to rest at your chin. He holds you in a terribly gentle grasp, his eyes searching yours as he asks “Will you let me?”

“Yes.” You both smile when your answer nearly trips over his questions in your rush to get his mouth back on yours. You’ve been aching for him for hours and oh, his kiss is as deliciously decadent as you’d hoped, rich and heady as rich red wine.

You don’t even try to suppress your moan when his tongue slips past your lips, grazing yours in a hungry glide that sends you gasping for more. He obliges, one broad hand at your hip, the other settling at the nape of your neck, the better to tip your mouth to his so he can drink you down. He licks into your mouth, drawing moans from you with a passion that leaves you trembling.

For all his evident skill, his is a barely controlled hunger and you wonder at his restraint in keeping it leashed this far. You’re not faring much better, truth be told. Your arms are wound around his neck, your chest straining against the confines of your corset. His warmth seeps into you but it isn’t enough. Your body screams to be closer, to press skin to skin and let him ravage you completely.

“I wanted to take you right there on that table,” he groans, the curve of his nose pressed to your cheek. You didn’t even see him remove the mask, it’s simply gone, leaving his face bared to you. “And now I can’t decide if I liked you better naked and on display for me or wrapped up so pretty like a perfect little present.”

His fingers trail down the laces at the back of your gown and drift until he’s cupping your backside, pulling you close enough to feel how badly he wants you. When you hitch one leg up to grind closer, he’s quick to run his palm up your thigh, holding you at his hip and groaning when you roll against him.

“Unwrap me, then.” You barely recognize the sultry sound of your own voice, but the Thief rewards your boldness. With a flick of his wrist, your laces are undone and with a conjuror’s flourish, he tugs your bodice down, exposing your straining breasts to his wicked mouth.

“I’ve wanted to do this all night,” he purrs, laying you down on a solid oak table. With one broad hand splayed across your collarbones, he lowers his head. Already burning for his touch, the scorching heat of his tongue, you tangle your fingers in his hair and tug, urging him on.

But oh, he makes you wait.

He trails light, teasing kisses over your breasts, chuckling when you whine and clutch at him, greedy for more.

“Patience,” he tuts. “I want you as ravenous for me as I am for you. Do you have any idea how badly I want you? Getting my hands on you, stealing you away - it’s all I’ve been able to think about tonight.”

His low voice throbs between your legs, the throaty purr enough to leave you soaking for him. You score a momentary reprieve when he finally wraps his lips around your peaked nipple and sucks hard, all the while kneading and pinching your other breast beneath his agile fingers. You gasp and shudder for him, your breath hitching when he mirrors the actions on the opposite sides. But as exquisite as his mouth is, you need more.

“I do want you,” you whimper helplessly. “This is all I’ve wanted since I heard you in that banquet hall.”

This earns you an amused glance as he pauses, his chin between the valley of your breasts. “Oh? You like my voice?”

The strangled noise you make at that ridiculous question is enough to give him his answer.

“Alright, treasure,” he soothes, and you can feel him grinning in the dark, his jawline scraping against your heated flesh. He’s already standing between your legs but he nudges them wider, pushing your skirts up around your waist in one smooth motion, the better to stroke one hand up your quivering thigh. He sighs with pleasure when his fingers reach the dampened scrap of silk between your legs and he pushes it aside to cup your wet heat, parting your folds and rubbing circles around and around your swollen clit with practiced ease.

“I’m going to make you come telling you all the filthy things I’ve been going out of my damn mind thinking about.”

He bends over you then, his broad form covering yours, his hand trapped between your bodies as you clutch desperately at his shoulders, his fingers working furiously to drive you to a fevered state of need.

Bringing his lips to your ear, he drops his voice to a subterranean rumble that rolls through you like thunder and says,

“And then… I’m going to do them.”

—

[missbrunettebarbie]

TTPD -the album proper- first thoughts

Here are some thoughts about TTPD -the album proper, cause I do not have the time or energy to analyze The Anthology (Taylor, wtf was this double drop???)- before I’m influenced by other people’s thoughts. Warning: I may be waaaay off the mark in some cases cause half the time when I was listening to these songs for the first time I was like “???”

Fortnight (feat. Post Malone) - Great melody, smart choice for an album opener, nice lyrics, no idea wtf the song is talking about. Like, I am guessing it’s about (a first?) break-up with Joe Alwyn in February -and they might have gotten back together for only a fortnight then broke up again for good?- but I’m so confused. Also, why is this the lead single? Taylor, this is not gonna win you SOTY at the grammys. 7/10

The Tortured Poets Department - This was … unexpected, to say the least. This was truly a picture of a moment in her relationship, while I expected either some kind of introspection or parody. Also the line about what he told Lucy and she said the same to Jack? Insane. Girl, you are both better off single. The ring and the wedding allusion? God, it hurt. (And it was only the beginning with this album…). Amazing song anyway. 9.5/10

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys - Girl, this is mental illness for me. Love it to bits and I kinda wish it will become a single (I think it’s my … 3rd choice for a single?), but… girl, I’m happy you two broke up. 9.5/10

Down Bad - I had low expectations from this song cause the title inspired nothing in me, but it really delivered a punch. Probably one of the most honest songs on the album proper. Oh, and her vocals here? Her tone of voice? No notes, it just … hits different *_* 8/10

So Long London - Funny enough, I did hear a leak of this! But it was like … 10 seconds from the intro and I wasn’t sure it was real. It is a very good song, and I can understand why she chose it as a track 5. But for me, when compared to other track 5s -and with a title so inflammatory- it was a bit of a let down. Still love it of course. 8.5/10

But Daddy I Love Him - This one is about Matty Healy, isn’t it? Like, it has to be, cause for the life of me I can’t see who this guy could be but Matty Healy. This song … I laughed out loud. She’s unhinged. ‘I’m having his baby’. Girl, you are unhinged. The wedding fever continues, and now we get the first glimpse of the baby fever. God, I love her. You can literally hear how done she was with everyone having an opinion about whom she dates. I need to listen to this and I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) back to back, cause this girl was so so wrong. Except that bridge. The bridge is gospel and spoke straight to my soul. 10/10

Fresh Out the Slammer - And I’m guessing this is the continuation of the track before, so still about MH. I have to say, this is really meh for me. Maybe because I was expecting something even more high tempo, but this is just … there for me. It doesn’t help that the ‘pretty baby’ annoys me. 6/10

Florida!!! - Nice to see Florence get so much singing time. Their voices mashed surprisingly well. But just like with Fortnight -and these two do seem connected- I have no idea what she is talking about here. I think it might be a composite sketch referring to both her first post break-up shows and Florida as a metaphor for escaping from your life? Idek. But the melody is great and this might be my fave collab of hers so far. 8.5/10

Guilty as Sin? - Another Matty Healy one IMO. Amazing how much material she got from such a short-lived affair. IMO she made a mistake making this track 9 and Florida!!! track 8. I would switch them around to make more sense. I’m not 100% sure this is about emotional cheating, as I think the Joever break-up wasn’t as clear cut as it was made to be, but there is something here about overlapping timelines. 9/10

Who’s Afraid Of Little Old Me? - Well, everyone should be now!!! I adore this song, it’s my fave of the album. If I have one complaint about it is that I would have put it more towards the beginning of the album instead of in the middle of the Matty Healy Saga - which makes no sense to me. Honestly, I don’t have much to say about this track cause in my eyes it’s perfect. This is the Taylor I’m here for. 10/10

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) - That last line! I laughed so hard. On one hand, I feel sorry for her. Otoh, girl, you should have run the first time you saw him. Great song to end the Matty Healy Saga on. 9/10

loml - Wow, this was a punch to the gut. Every lyric here is a masterpiece and a dagger to the heart. I would love it if she made this a single (this is SOTY material IMO), but it’s probably too emotional for her. The melody reminds me of Last Kiss, but the piano is giving Evermore. 10/10

I Can Do It With a Brokern Heart - Why is this not the lead single, Taylor??? It has everything: melody, lyrics, airplay value, SOTY potential, why?! I love every single second of this song, especially the chorus. I’m probably gonna listen to it on repeat. Second fave after WAOLOM. 10/10

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived - Every song I thought was gonna be cutting turned out to be just plain sad. IMO, this song is both about JA and MH. I don;t really have much to say about this song, as it is just .. painful. 9.5/10

The Alchemy - Yeah, I’m team This Song is About Travis. Nice song, and I like that she included something about the current relationship, but it’s not exactly a fave for me. 7.5/10

Clara Bow - This was my predicted fave, but it was def dethroned. Still, I do think this is Top 5 for me. I love the direct reference to herself at the end and the way this is both hopeful and still somewhat sad. Also really like the vocals here. 10/10

Final score: 8.87 

Not bad at all. Gonna deal with The Anthology later. Much later as I actually have a life to go back to.

[prettyinpink350]

Because I liked a boy

Warnings: illusion to sex, cheating, crying steve is a real jerk, mention to boob jobs? Thats all I think, oh and A LOT of angst

You didnt know he was married..

It hurt seeing him all over her when last night he was next to you promising the world. She was everything you were not, her hair color was the opposite of yours and her height was totally different partially like the two of you were from different planets.

The big rock that sat on her hand told you all you needed to know, steve Rogers was a cheater.

You looked away from the picture perfect couple the sight too madding.

I said I wanted thin mints and you said you knew a guy

You showed up with a boom box and stars in your eyes

Who knew cuddling on trampolines could be so reckless?

We bonded over black eyed peas and complicated exes

"Oh oh steve look we should get some?!" You said while the Christmas lights dazzled in the city, the two of you walking when you spotted the thin mints from a girl scout booth.

He chulcked at how cute you were. "Well let's go get some!"

Fell so deeply into it

It was all so innocent

Now you stood in dress that was big enough to hold all the lies and secrets he said, it fit you perfectly.

Now I'm a homewrecker, I'm a slut

I got death threats filling up semi trucks

Tell me who I am, guess I don't have a choice

All because I liked-

I'm a hot topic on your tongue

I'm a rebound gettin' 'round stealin' from the young

Tell me who I am, guess I don't have a choice

All because I liked a boy

You stayed far from Captain America and mrs America. You knew deep down that you had to right to hate her but you did because she was perfect. And the perfect man needs a perfect wife. Not a mutant.

You sat in the ballroom with so many guests here for the stark gala. You said hello to everyone you knew and talked to some new people your eyes never tried to find him. And if you did get a glimpse you would walk the other way.

I'm not catastrophizing

Everything's derailing

Was only tryna hold you close

While your heart was failing

It's not internet illusions just

two kids going through it

You said I'm too late to be your first love

But I'll always be your favorite

Until his eyes found you, his breath was gone like smoke in the rain. You were what he wanted but he knew better, mr. Perfectly fine needs a mrs perfectly okay. He knew what he was doing was wrong but he lost so much and for once he wanted to be selfish.

He almost went back in time to be with his first love but bucky didn't deserve that and she was only first many, more were to come. He wished that it wasn't you, he wished he could go back and change the way he took his own happiness. It laid in you not her.

She was what people wanted to see him with, a white girl who was smart with rich parents, a girl that started to get botox at 18. The "perfect" suburban dream a hot wife with fake boobs.

You walked to the bathroom tears were threatening to leak. "Y/n" he said as he raced after you.

"Your married! You cheating scumbag get away from me!" You yelled tears now falling.

"I'm so sorry bumblebee" he tried to reach you but you moved back.

"Why?! What was the point?!" You said anger in your eyes.

"Why what?" He yelled back getting frustrated at how his life turned out but he was taking it out on you.

"Why tell me you love me when you dont mean it! Why make me love you when you knew I could never be with you! All this time I talked about living with you and sharing my life and dreams our future! You let me look like a fool."

"I do love you and I want to be with you! I do!" He yelled tears now running down his face as well.

"But I'm not good enough, you love me but your to afraid to say to the world so you would rather be with someone who you dont! All because your afraid!" You yelled back.

"I-i" he didnt get to finish.

"You know it's funny, your brave enough to fight aliens and wars but not enough to love me openly"

You walked away from him. A love affair that scorned the two. A man to afraid.

Now I'm a homewrecker, I'm a slut

I got death threats filling up semi trucks

Tell me who I am, guess I don't have a choice

All because I liked

I'm a hot topic on your tongue

I'm a rebound gettin' 'round stealin' from the young

Tell me who I am, guess I don't have a choice

All because I liked a boy

All because I liked a boy

Fell so deeply into it

It was all so innocent

Dating boys with exes

No, I wouldn't recommend it

I'm a homewrecker, I'm a slut

I got death threats filling up semi trucks

Tell me who I am, guess I don't have a choice

All because I liked a boy

And all of this for what?

When everything went down we'd already broken up

Please tell me who I am, guess I don't have a choice

All because I liked a boy

All because I liked a boy