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myspacebrat · 2 years

Note

I saw you did someone’s request and I had to put mine in! Eddie being behind in class and the top of the class cheerleader reader is told to tutor Eddie and it somehow ends in them fucking between the bookshelves of the library, please? 🥺

Meet me in the library

Eddie Munson x sweet cheerleader fem!reader

⚠️warnings: SMUT 18+MDNI, playing never have I ever, Eddie has a slight corruption kink, dirty talk, public sex, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (m—receiving), unprotected p in v sex, cream pie, all of my “sweet and innocent or virgin” girlies are always undercover freaks, it’s hard for me to write for super innocent characters since well, I’m not.

A/N: I was recently rewatching st and realized a lot of the kids reference failing Spanish, so I thought that could be the subject Eddie needs help with in this, as I don’t see that much in other fics. Anyway, thank you to whoever sent in this request. Hope you like it <3

Today, was not your day. You had woken up 15 minutes late, missed the bus, did not have time to eat anything but a granola bar and to top it off; Tyler in first period, sent you one of his weekly pervy notes, that read: “You’re so hot, my zippers falling for you.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you crumbled the paper to throw away on your way out, to second period.

As you walk into Mrs. Burtons Spanish class, the vanilla air freshener sitting on her desk, wafting through the air. You take a seat in the middle and begin taking out your text book.

“Buenos Dias, clase.” Her inability to roll her tongue, peaking through her sentence.

“Buenos Dias, Mrs. Burton.” You and a few other pupils, say back.

“Please take out your Spanish 1, text books and turn to page 24.” As you move to open your book with the rest of the class, the classroom door is pulled open. Eddie Munson walks in, without a care in the world that he’s late. Choosing the open seat right next to you, he plops down. The smell of weed, hitting your nose. Clearly smoking before class was more important.

No wonder he’s a super duper senior - you thought to yourself

You usually try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, but you’ve had a shit day and thus, no filter. You don’t dislike Eddie, you’ve had multiple classes with him throughout your high school career and even though you both have never really had a full on conversation, you’ve still never bought the crap this town says about him.

“So nice of you to join us, Señor Munson.” Spits Mrs. Burton, face adorned with the fakest of smiles

“Uh, I forgot my book in my van, sorry.” He says while slumping down in his chair

“Mmhm” Mrs. Burtons continues while rolling her eyes and turning towards the chalk board

“Psst, what page are we on?” You hear being whispered in your direction

You turn toward it, not sure if the questions is directed at you or someone else. As you turn your head towards the leather jacket wearing metal head, you notice his eyes trained on you, eyebrows lifted as if to say “hello?”

“Oh um, page 24.” You whisper back

“Thanks, Pom poms.” He says with a wink

Your face instantly blooming a rosy pink— Eddie notices as he throws you a cocky smirk.

You bury your head in your text book as Mrs. Burton explains the difference between “los padres and el padre”

After Mrs. Burton dismisses the class, and you’re packing up your belongings. She sets her sights on you.

“Y/L, Munson? Can I have a word with you both, before you go?” Her eyes darting from yours to Eddie’s

“Sure” you both say in unison, although your tones were anything but similar

You put the purple straps of your backpack on your shoulders, while Eddie haphazardly slings one strap over his. Bag zipped halfway.

You both walk up to Mrs. Burtons desk, side by side. Eddie looked annoyed, like he had better things to be doing, while you always did your best to be polite.

“Y/N, I wanted to ask. Since you are my best student, if you wouldn’t mind tutoring Eddie, here? If he passes these next two tests, they will count for half of his grade, if he can bump his F up to at least a C, he can finally pass my class.”

She says, all while side eyeing Eddie. His jaw clenching through her proposal. You couldn’t help feeling bad for the way he was treated, by peers and teachers alike. You wondered how it must feel to have your teachers give up on you. You would probably stop caring, too.

Before your thoughts could carry on, Mrs. Burton begins talking again.

“So, what do you say?” Her eyes pleading for a yes, she clearly wants him out of her class.

You look over again at Eddie, the action making your tummy fill with butterflies. Having to be in close proximity to him, most likely alone. You couldn’t tell if the nerves were from intimidation or infatuation.

You’d find out soon.

“Yeah, of course. I’d love to help!” Words coming out way too enthusiastic in comparison to how you were internally feeling.

“Okay, excellent.” She says as she sits down in her seat to begin grading papers.

She looks up at you and Eddie through her lashes “you both are free to go.” She says with a tight lipped smile

Eddie is the first one to make his way out the door. Exhaling a breath he’d been holding.

“So, when and where do you wanna meet up?” He says through gritted teeth, face impassive as his eyes flicker to yours.

“Meet me in the library, after school.” You say as you turn on your heel and head to third period.

The day dragged on, until finally the last bell rang out. You made your way to your locker. Exchanging some of your text books for ones you’d need to help you study that night.

As you swing your locker shut, your thoughts interrupted by a figure leaning up against the next locker over.

“Hola, pom poms.” Eddie says with a smirk, your widened eyes turn squinted as you return the smile.

“I thought we were meeting in the biblioteca?”—You inquire

“The what?” He says as he reads your face for the answer

Oh lord, you had your work cut out for you.

“Biblioteca means library in Spanish, Eddie.” You say with a giggle

“Mm, no yeah, I-I knew that.” His smirk drops, as he swallows. Addams apple bobbing at the motion.

“Sure you did. So do you wanna lead the way, or do you need directions?” You say with no bite to your words, purely a joke.

“Oh, low blow, princess!” He says as he puts his hand over his heart. “All have you know, I’ve been to the library once or twice before.” He smirks while looking back at you.

The butterflies in your stomach returning, ten fold.

As you both shuffle into the library, it was mostly empty. Most of your peers have already headed home for the day. You both find a nice secluded table towards the back shelves. Away from the judging eyes of Mrs. Westin, the grumpy old librarian who loves to tell people to be quiet, even when their voices are just above a whisper. You knew Eddie could be loud, witnessing his little outburst in the cafeteria and in classes you both have shared together, through the years.

As you reach the furthest table; you remove your backpack, taking out your text book along with some paper and a pencil. Meanwhile Eddie slams his body into his seat, slumping down and spreading his legs out as he crosses his arms against his chest. You can feel him watching you as you turn to the page your next test was going to be on.

“Are you going to keep staring at me? Or are you going to get your text book and writing utensils out, so we can study?” You ask as you uncomfortably shift in your seat, his gaze doing nothing to ease the butterflies flapping around your belly.

“I’d rather study you, princess.” He says as he brings his chin towards his chest, looking at you through his lashes. Big doe eyes roaming your chest, neck and face as he brings his bottom lip behind his top teeth to bite. Finally his eyes meet yours and you can’t help but to get lost in them.

What was he doing to you?

You were hardly boy crazy, basking in the fact that you never took any of these boys serious. School always came first. That’s not to say you haven’t dated or had fun, you certainly have but you knew graduating and getting the hell outta this soul sucking town was the real object of your desires.

But Eddie was making you feel ways you’ve never felt, ways you didn’t even know were physically possible for you.

You bring your thoughts to a halt, as your eyes quickly find solace in the page in front of you.

“Text book, Eddie?” You say, with a tone you weren’t familiar hearing from yourself.

“I-I didn’t bring it. Is it cool if we just share?” He stands up and makes his way around the table to plop in the chair, beside you. Mirroring the same slouch and spread legs, as earlier. Not even waiting to hear your answer.

“Sure, why not.” You whisper to yourself as you continue looking over the page, trying to gage what lesson you wanted to work on first.

Eddie sits up and scoots his chair closer to you, elbow touching yours. Sending something as easily described as electricity, coursing through your body. You begin to move uncomfortably in your seat again. Eddie, watching you closely out the side of his eyes.

He was purposely trying to throw you off, and it was working. You close your text book and look up at him, while you scoot back in your chair. Eddie moves back a bit too, eyes widening as he thinks you’re going to get up and walk away from him and his antics.

“How about we put off studying for a day and I don’t know, talk?” You say as you collect your book and utensils to put back in your backpack.

“Talk? What would you like to talk about, poms?”

“My name is y/n, not Poms not Pom Poms just y/—n. Okay?” You snap, although the nickname was kinda cute coming from him, you’d prefer to be called your real name.

Eddie puts his hands up in surrender.

“Y/n, right. Sorry.” He says as he begins nervously scratching the back of his neck.

“Well, why don’t we get to know each other a little bit? Maybe that way you can get more comfortable with me and then it’ll be a little easier to study.” You’d much rather talk to him anyway, see what’s going on under that beautiful, luscious head of hai— nope, no. Don’t even finish that thought.

Eddie raises his eyebrows, smirk adorning his full pink lips

“I’d love nothing more than to get to know you, princess..” smirk growing wider

Okay, so much for wanting him to call me by my name. Cause if it’s between that and princess, princess wins. Hands down.

“How about we make it interesting?” Face full of mischief

You could tell that face was going to be nothing but trouble, but you couldn’t help the intrigue it brought you.

“Okay, what did you have in mind?” You ask, trying your best to be impartial.

“Have you ever played, never have I ever?”

“I mean, a couple times at a sleep over and once at a house party, but that involved alcohol.” You say as your heart thumps out of your chest. You remember those questions being anything but innocent. The middle of the library probably not the best place for this. But, you also thought it could be fun.

“Right, well unfortunately for us, we don’t have any. So maybe we can just put a finger down, instead.” Disappointment in his voice “Okay, you start.” He says with a motion of his hand.

“Never have I ever… ditched school.” You wanted to start off small and work your way to the good stuff

Eddie puts his finger down, with an exhale of his breath.

“Okay, princess. Let’s play fair.” He snorts out with a chuckle

“Never have I ever, had a one night stand.” He says with a cocky smirk, as he puts a finger down. Eyes trained on you, as he waits for your answer

You shake your head, as you nervously play with your fingers in your lap.

He’s just jumping right in, okay.

Eddie nods his head as he laughs to himself, as if to say “I knew it.”

“Never have I ever… Um, broken a bone.” You put a finger down, remembering 6th grade and your bright pink cast you had to wear for a whole a year.

Eddie barks out a laugh as he shakes his head.

“No, no, no sweetheart. Dirty questions only.” He says with a smug smile

“Why? I meant get to know as in little details of each other’s lives, not sexually.” You whisper the last word, making Eddie roll his eyes

“C’mon princess, this is so much more interesting.” He whines

“Okay, fine. Never have I ever had sex in a car.” You say as you put a finger down

Eddie’s eyes widen at the new information. He thought you were a virgin, miss Virgin Mary in the flesh. You had unexpectedly surprised him.

“Mm, that’s what I’m talking about, sweetheart.” He says smug smirk still adorning his face

“Never have I ever, had a threesome.” He puts another finger down, as your eyes widen at the fact.

“You’ve had a threesome? With who?” You ask, tone in disbelief

“It was a friend and some girl.” He answers

“With another guy?” The thought making your thighs close, as you swallow down the curiosity plaguing your mind.

Eddie just nods his head, as he looks at you. Awaiting your next revelation.

“Never have I ever, kissed a member of the same sex?” You couldn’t help it, you were curious.

Eddie side eyes you, he knows exactly what you’re doing. He puts his finger down, as you mirror him. Having made out with your best friend at a few of your sleepovers.

That was totally normal, wasn’t it?

You and Eddie, both clearly surprised by the others answer.

“Oh, so miss goody two shoes is actually just a secret bad girl. Having sex in cars and kissing girls? Mm, I like this version much better.” He snickers

You roll your eyes, but can’t help but laugh along.

“Okay, okay” Eddie begins “never have I ever… had sex in public? Car sex doesn’t count.” He continues

“How does that not count? It’s literally in public.”

“I mean in a public place; a park, a gas station, a library?” He says leaning closer to you as he whispers the last part.

Your face heats up at the thought of Eddie, fucking you against one of these bookshelves. Before you could think about the words, they’re already leaving your mouth.

“Nope, can’t say I’ve ever had the privilege of getting fucked in a library.”

Eddie’s eyes darken and his jaw tics at your language. He’s never even heard you cuss before, not even a damn or hell. He was loving that you weren’t as innocent as he thought. Although he did very much want to corrupt you, he thinks it’ll be easier now.

“Well, do you want to?” He asks, big eyes staring into your souls as he licks his lips.

“Um, I-I don’t know.” You stammer

Of course I do! I want you to do whatever you want to me— your brain betrays you, with its horny thoughts. God, it hasn’t been that long. Has it?

“Just say the word, princess. We can change that, if that’s something you’d like.” He says, voice not matching the sexual undertones of the conversation. He sounded so sweet and understanding. Like if you said no, he totally wouldn’t pressure you. He’d just go about his day, like nothing was even said. And that, makes you want him even more.

Your voice feels stuck in your throat. How do you tell him you do, really, really want that without sounding like a slut? I mean clearly, he was one but you don’t know if you’d like to be looked at in that light.

“It’s cool, don’t sweat it. We’ll just get back to stud-“ finally you find your voice, you have to just say it, own it. Who cares, you want Eddie. You want him to fuck you and that doesn’t make you any less than anyone else.

“N-No, I um” you sit up straighter as you try to say the rest of your sentence with more confidence “I want you to fuck me.” You say as you look him directly in the eyes.

His smile beams, as he rubs his chin in deliberation. As if, trying to grasp at the fact that, Hawkins sweetest and most innocent cheerleader just asked him to fuck her in the library. This was better than Christmas. Hell, christmas and his birthday combined. He couldn’t wait to get a little taste of your sweetness, he hoped this wouldn’t be the last time either.

“Okay, anything you want princess.” He whispers as he put his large ringed hand on your thigh. Rubbing up to the hem of your green and yellow cheer skirt. Goosebumps spreading all over your thighs at the coldness of his rings. You squeaked at the gesture.

“Shh, shh. It’s okay, baby I’m just g’na get you nice and ready for me, is that okay? Get that pussy, all nice and dripping for me? Huh?” He whispers closer to the shell of your ear. You bite your lip at his filthy words. Rosy cheeks making another appearance.

He moves his hand up higher, grabbing at the fat of your upper thigh and letting out a low growl, as if that really turned him on. Your heart was beating out of your chest as you began looking back towards the front of the library, trying to make sure you wouldn’t get caught and suffer the wrath of Mrs. Westin.

“It’s okay, sweet girl. I won’t let us get caught, okay?” He says as he grabs your chin and turns your head back to look at him. As you take in his face, you notice his eyes trained on your lips. He wanted to kiss you, so without thinking twice you move in closer, closing the space between you both. He watches you and realizes what you’re doing. He begins to completely close it, by putting his lips on yours. The kiss is soft and sweet, until his other hand grabs the back of your head, pulling you even closer. He slips his tongue past your lips as he entangles it with yours, the kiss now needy and passionate. His hand continuing to skate up your skirt, until he reaches your panty covered slit. He can feel just how soaked he’s made you.

“Fuck, you always this wet when you tutor dumbasses, like me?” He laughs, but his self deprecation pulls at your heart strings.

“You’re not a dumbass, Eddie. Don’t talk like that about yourself.” You say shyly, but voice full of tenderness, a tenderness eddie was not use to.

“What? You care about me now? I got your pussy wet, so you think you give a shit about me? Is that it?” He says, but his tone was anything but mean. It was more teasing, something about it made your sex throb and your panties soak up more of your juices.

“N-no, I just don’t think you’re a dumbass. I think, you don’t apply yourself in things that don’t interest you. I think, if you would actually let me help you, and make it interesting enough, you could pass in no time. I’ve worked with dumbasses, you Eddie are not one.” You continue

Eddie’s never been great at taking compliments or receiving love, so he does the only thing he can think of in that moment that doesn’t include any talking. Smashing his lips back into yours with a deep set growl, it’s wet and sloppy, you want more.

And just as if he was reading your mind, Eddie slips your cotton panties to the side, and brings a ringed finger up your slit to collect the wetness. You open your legs wider, as Eddie smirks into the sloppy kiss. He begins rubbing at your little bundle of nerves, and you’re so in the moment that you can’t help but moan out, immediately moving your face into your elbow to cover it up with a cough. Eddie throws his head back in laughter, at that. He can’t take how fucking cute you are. It’s driving him, crazy!

Before you can collect yourself from that embarrassing moment, Eddie plunges a finger into your dripping hole, as he brings your face back to kiss him, trying to conceal your moans.

Finally, he removes his hand from your panties as he whispers in your ear. “Cmon, let’s go find a more private place, for this.” He stands and holds his hand out for you to take, you put your smaller hand in his, as he guides you to the book shelves even further back. You would have to hurry, as the library will be closing soon, but luckily you have more than enough time to spare. You’ve been stuck in this library multiple times to study, so you know about what time, Mrs. Westin comes around to start telling students to, pack it up.

As you follow Eddie behind the bookshelf that reads “science fiction.” He pulls you over and gently puts your back up against the shelves, a couple books digging into your back, but you didn’t mind.

“You sure you still wanna do this, baby?” He asked with such softness, you couldn’t help but melt.

“Yes, I do Eddie.” You whisper to him as you hold his gaze

His smile was infectious. He brought his hands up to your waist, grabbing at the flesh and then rubbing down towards the fat of your ass, grabbing two handfuls.

“Such a pretty ass, I can’t help myself every time I see you, baby. I just gotta look.” He whispers into your ear, making you shiver in excitement.

“I can’t do everything I’d like to do to you, here. But I’m g’na give you a little taste, until next time. How’s that sound?” His voice so silky and smooth. You nod your head, as your eyes water. The anticipation was making you mad, you needed Eddie right then and there.

But the promise of a next time, made the butterflies in your stomach explode.

You didn’t care, you needed him in your mouth. No more waiting. You turn him around and push him up against the same shelf you were just standing against, as you drop down to your knees. Eddie’s eyes bulging out of his head.

“Holy shit.” He whispered to himself

You begin working at his button and zipper, pulling his black jeans and red checkered boxers to his knees. His dick springing out and tapping your cheek. Now, it was your eyes that were bulging out of your head. You knew Eddie’s cocky attitude probably solidified the fact that he was packing, but not like this. He was porn star big.

“Mm, open up baby. Open that pretty little mouth for me.” He says as he grabs his pretty pink cock in one hand, tapping it against your mouth. The pre cum being smeared on your top and bottom lip.

You open and take the head of him, into your mouth and suck. “Fuck” you hear from above you. Taking more into your mouth inch by inch as you reach the middle, not able to fit his whole length in at a time. He grabs your hair in a makeshift ponytail and whispers “I know you can take more baby, cmon just a little bit more.” And the desperation in his voice does nothing but make you want to obey.

So you continue taking more of him into your mouth, until your nose brushes against the tuft of curls situated at the bottom of his shaft. You can hear him making gasps and groans above your head, so you move your eyes to focus on the metalhead above you. The knuckle of his thumb between his teeth, as he bites down. Trying to hide his moans from being heard, from across the dead library.

You want nothing more than to hear him, his groans and mules and praises. But as he said, you’ll save that for another day.

He gently pulls your hair, as if to silently tell you to get up on to your feet. You stand back up, drool covering your lips and tears staining your cheeks.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful baby.” He says as he bites at his lip, and uses his finger to wipe up a stray tear. “Come here.” He grabs the small of your back pushing your chest into his, as he kisses you, pulling your skirt up to reveal your baby pink cotton panties. He smiles as his eyes take in the wet spot, just for him.

He moves you further down to another book shelf, as he pushes you back up against it. Grabbing your left leg and hiking it up around his waist, as he digs back under your skirt to move your panties to the side. Taking his cock in one hand. He spreads your arousal all over the tip before it begins breeching your tight hole.

“Fuck, I knew you’d be tight but holy shit.” He gasps

He continues moving in, deeper and deeper. Inch by inch.

You moan out into his ear, something only for you and him to hear, as he begins fucking into you, stretching you out and stuffing you whole. He speeds up as your pussy begins to stretch wider for him. You’re both moaning into each others mouths, ears and necks as he fucks you better than you’ve ever been fucked. Your toes curling in your white ked sneakers. Head thrown back, against the book shelf as he hits that spot so deep inside you. Your pussy begins to flutter around him, making him fuck into you harder. You knew if Mrs. Westin were to come and check on you both, she’d immediately know what was going on. The thought making your pussy flutter even more.

You moan out as you look into Eddie’s eyes.

“Right there. Fuck, don’t stop.”

“Is that your spot, baby? Fuck yeah, I’m not stopping. Not until your cumming all over this cock.”

He was so close but he needed you to finish first. Taking his ringed fingers and bringing them to your lips, you open up and begin sucking on ‘em. Getting them nice and wet. He moves them between your bodies as he reaches your clit, wet fingers drawing circles over the sensitive bud. Making your vision go white and your legs shake.

“I’m cumming, fuck I’m cumming, Eddie.” You screech out.

“Fuck, so am I. Where do you want it?.” He says as he throws his head back, hair falling beautifully behind his shoulders as he drives his cock harder into you, almost animalistic.

“Inside, please cum inside me.” You cry out

The suggestion and desperation in your voice tipping him over the edge as he releases, white hot ropes inside of your fucked out cunt.

Eddie’s face falls into your neck as he holds on to your hips, you both catching your breathes. Coming down from the best high of your life.

“Damn, yeah we’re definitely g’na have more fun, next time.” He says as he kisses your lips, and pulls away to stuff himself back into his jeans.

You fix your panties and smooth out your skirt as you, and Eddie begin making your way back to the table.

Eddie grabs you by the waist and brings you back towards him, as he notices you begin to close back into yourself. “Hey, that was okay, right? I wasn’t too rough or anything?” He says, he really had a way of making you feel cared for.

“It was perfect, Eddie. I can’t wait to do it again.” You smile as you grab your backpack and sling it over your shoulder, not caring to fix it properly.

Eddie throws his arm around your shoulders, kissing you on the crown of your head. “Let me walk you out to your car.” He offers

“Oh, thank you. What a gentleman.” You joke

You both make your way out of the library, Mrs. Westin side eyeing you both until you walk out of the library, in a fit of giggles.

“Hey, so can I get your number or something?” Eddie says as he leans against your car and opens your door up for you.

“Yeah, sure.” You say back as you rip a piece of paper out of your journal and bring out a pen. Writing your number as you fold it up and hand it to him. He opens it, smiling at your name with a little heart right next to it.

“Alright, I’ll talk to you later?” He asks as he leans in, to give you one more peck to your lips.

“Yeah Eddie, I’ll talk to you later.” You say as you climb into your car.

Holy shit, you just fucked Eddie in the library and you’re going to do it again.

Thank you for reading! 💞

Comments and reblogs are appreciated

#— 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie x y/n #eddie x you #eddie stranger things

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vendetta-if · 11 months

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I had the greatest headcanon ever— what if when Mc was young, and with little self discipline, victor had to have them on one of those backpack leashes?

Like Mc is 5, just quite at the age of getting a hold of their powers, they had a horrible tantrum in a store with high ceilings and started slowly floating up to the ceiling and scarring the shirt off of Victor 😂

Victor would get judgmental parent stares until they see little Mc having to be floating along like a balloon 😆

Nooo 😭😂 I can see that! And honestly, depends on how naughty your little MC is, Viktor would’ve most likely gotten one of those just for this potential scenario 😆

Or if MC was still really small, Viktor would keep them strapped to his chest at all times. He was like, one of those really protective parents, and added with his paranoia of people coming after him for retaliation, he didn’t wanna take any chance of little MC going missing or out of his sight for even a minute. Let the other parents judge, he didn’t care as long as his baby is safe 🥺❤️

#asks #anon ask #char: viktor #char: mc #if: vendetta #if vendetta #vendetta if #if game #if wip #dashingdon #choicescript

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babyhatesreality · 2 years

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The little one seems like a adventurous one.

What if they have placed to be and they are a little late. Bucky put you on his hip so you would run around all the time while they try to get everything ready to go.

But when Bucky wants to get the stairs down fast, maybe a little to fast, he is slipping whit you and now rushing the stairs in his behind all the way down.

And little ones reacting would be like „AGAIN?! I was flying!“ 🥺😂

While they both try to calm down

HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE

This request gave me life. And made me laugh so hard. I love it. <3

Time is a Flyin'

Pairing: Daddy!Stucky x little f!reader (featuring Bucky)

Warnings: DDLG (SSC), f! reader, reader is named but name scarcely used, language, fluffity fluff fluff fluff.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. THIS STORY IS SFW- THE REST OF MY BLOG IS NOT NECESSARILY SO. MINORS DNI. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, COPIED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY OTHER SITE BUT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated.

He wouldn't look at the clock. He wouldn't look at the clock. He WOULDN'T look at the clock.

He looked at the clock.

Shit. Even later than he thought. Steve was gonna kill him.

"Baby, where are you?" Bucky hollered as he raced around the house. You suddenly popped up from the couch, the blanket slipping off your head.

"Here I yam!" you cheered. Bucky did a sudden about-face and raced back into the living room, making you giggle. You reached for him but squeaked in surprise when he hoisted you into his arms so fast the room became a blur.

"Listen up baby, Daddy's running really late to meet Papa," Bucky explained to you in a rush as he ran down the hallway, holding on to you tightly. "So I need best behaviors right now, okay?"

"Okay Daddy!"

"Good girl," Bucky muttered as he plopped you down on the bench by the front door and began quickly shoving your shoes on. He deliberately chose the ones with the velcro straps so he didn't have to waste time tying laces. He suddenly realized you weren't wearing a coat and just managed to catch the swear word before it left his lips.

"Bunny, go run and get your coat. Fast as you can, chop chop," he said, clapping his hands playfully at you. You squealed with delight at the new game and took off for your bedroom as Bucky flew back into the kitchen to refill your day bag with snacks. He cursed under his breath once he knew you were out of earshot; he just KNEW not refilling it immediately after yesterday's trip to the library was going to be a mistake.

He looked at the clock again. SHIT. He was so dead.

"Baby, got your coat?" he hollered loudly, throwing the backpack on and racing towards your room. He screeched to a halt in your doorway. You had put your jacket on, but had gotten distracted by your stuffies.

"Daddy can Jellybean come?" you asked innocently, turning to meet his eyes, but instead gave another squeak as Daddy swooped you up into his arms again.

"Not this time, Baby," he said, before giving you a long kiss on the temple to take the sting of not being able to bring your bunny along. "We gotta go meet Papa and fast, don't want Jellybean getting lost along the way." Knowing Daddy needed best behavior right now, you just sighed and waved to Jellybean as Daddy raced towards the front door.

"JARVIS, doors!" Bucky yelled as you approached. You heard the click of the locks right before Bucky practically ripped the door off its hinges, slamming it quickly. "Lock it up," Bucky ordered the AI as he ran down the hallway.

"JARVIS, PLEASE," you said deliberately, your voice jolting a bit as Bucky ran, which, in turn, made you giggle. You weren't allowed to run in the hallways- this was FUN.

"Of course, Mr. Barnes and Princess," JARVIS replied politely. You were already too far away to hear the clicking of the locks, but you knew JARVIS had it taken care of. You tried to pat Bucky on the cheek to get his attention as he huffed towards the elevator, but he was going so fast and you were bouncing so hard you accidentally smacked his forehead.

"Sorry Daddy!" you chirped when he gave you the side eye. "But did you see that I helped with the door??"

"Yeah, good job Princess," Bucky said with a quick grin, before focusing back on the path in front of him. He came to a halt right in front of the elevator. He mashed the button quickly, but it didn't light up. He pushed it again- nothing. "C'mon, c'mon," he muttered, practically putting his fist through the panel in his frustration.

"Excuse me, Mr. Barnes, but I'm sorry to inform you that the elevator is currently down for maintenance," JARVIS said apologetically.

"SHIT," Bucky hissed, then immediately held up one finger in front of your suddenly excited face. "Don't even think about it," he warned. "That's a no-no word."

"How's come all the fun words are no-no words? Dat's not fair."

"Life ain't fair, kiddo."

"Papa gonna wash your mouth out with soap, Daddy."

"I'll give you an extra cookie after dinner if you don't tell Papa what I said."

"DEAL!"

That having been settled, Bucky looked over at the stairway door. At least he managed to only think the swear word instead of saying it this time. He sighed heavily, and shoved open the door. He looked all the way down the stairwell. Your apartment was on one of the upper levels. It was going to take forever to walk down the stairs and make him even later and Steve was going to kill him even harder. He came up with a plan, but didn't have time to really think it through- except one thing.

Bucky's head snapped to you, looking you right in the eye. "Listen up, Private Baby," he said, using his Sergeant voice. You instantly paid attention, looking at him with wide eyes. "You hang on tight, you hear me? Don't let go for anything. I'm not gonna let you fall," he said firmly. "And don't you DARE try this on your own, got it?" You had no idea what he was talking about, but you were intrigued, to say the least. You had no fear of Daddy ever dropping you- he and Papa were the strongest in the whole world and you knew he would never let you go. So you did as he asked- you gripped him as hard as you could around his neck and locked your legs into place around his waist.

"Okay, Sergeant Daddy!"

The next thing you knew, you were flying through the air. Daddy was jumping over entire flights of stairs, holding on to you so tightly it took your breath away. Your focus kept snapping back and forth between the intense concentration on his face as he leaped and the whoosh of air blowing your hair back as the concrete stairs just disappeared underneath you. You were just completely at a loss for words or actions as you held on for dear life and the floors of the tower passed by in a blur.

Bucky finally made it to the ground floor where the garage was, and stopped. Super soldier or not, he needed a moment after that. Breathing hard, he craned his neck to look down at you. "Are you okay, baby?" he asked, trying to regulate his breathing as he swallowed hard. You didn't answer for a moment, you just stared at the ground, then slowly turned your head to look at him. You blinked twice, but didn't say anything. "Baby?" he asked again, starting to panic a bit. "Are you okay?"

"AGAIN!!!" you suddenly screamed joyfully, catching him completely off guard. "AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN!!!! DO IT AGAIN DADDY!!!!"

Bucky's face couldn't have been more shocked if he'd tried. "Wh-what?" he said stupidly, not believing what he was hearing.

"CAN WE DO IT AGAIN????" you begged, bouncing in his arms. "That was the mostest funnest thing ever!!! We was FLYING!!!" You were wiggling so hard in your sheer delight that YOU were now shaking HIM. "Can we please do it again??? I promise to be good forever!!! Please please please again again again!!!!"

Knowing he now had TWO big problems on his hands, Bucky just started storming towards their car, which, of course, was all the way at the other end of the floor. The world was against him today. "Listen, Trouble," he said. "You remember how I said we weren't telling Papa about the no-no word?"

"Yeah, and da cookie!"

"If you don't tell Papa about flying down the stairs like we just did, I will let you pick out three new stuffies this weekend."

"WOW!! Dis many??" you asked, delightedly holding up three fingers. He couldn't help but grin.

"You are so smart," he said, kissing the side of your head as he hurried. "Yup, that many. But you CANNOT tell Papa. You tell Papa and the deal's off, got it?"

"Got it!"

"It'll be our little secret about flying, okay?"

"Okay! I am really good at secrets about flying, Daddy! Like how it's a secret when Uncle Sam is watching me and we go flying around the city with his falcon wings."

"Wait- WHAT?!"

#daddy stucky #daddy!stucky x little reader #daddy!stucky #daddy stucky x little reader #daddy!steve rogers #daddy!steve #daddy steve #daddy!steve x little!reader #daddy steve x little reader #daddy!steve rogers x little #daddy bucky #daddy!bucky #daddy!bucky x little!reader #daddy bucky x little reader

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the-californicationist · 3 months

Note

Hi 🥺( I’m lotharwinchester on ao3)

It says in your ask guidelines that you’re willing to write in a trans prospective? I was wondering if you’d be willing to write a fanfic where soap and/or price goes to pride with their trans masc squad mate because they’ve never been supported enough to go? (Their relationship could be any one, romantic or platonic) I love your writing, like I can always visualize to the t everything you’re describing. 🥰

Lothar!! Omg hiiii ^_^ I am always so stoked to see your comments, friend! I would be honored to write this fic for you. <3 <3 I hope this is what you were imagining. Happy Pride!!

You'll Never Walk Alone

Spotting him in the crowd was surprisingly easy. To be fair, he was huge. His shoulders sprawled high above a pair of lovers, decked out in their rainbow gear, kissing and hugging each other like their lives depended on it, fully dressed in their pride. If there was ever a time to bring out the tacky rainbow merch, it was today. But, John was in all black.

You didn’t mind. Not everyone had a closet that was prepared for the city’s annual Pride Parade. You were just glad that he could make it.

No, that was wrong. You were glad that he decided to come. You didn’t need him to be clad in rainbows. Choosing to be here versus just being available to be here were two very different things. His presence meant the world to you.

All through training, your captain had never treated you with disrespect. He’d learned your name and your pronouns, and you had a suspicion that everyone else on base had been strongly encouraged to learn them as well. When you rendezvous’d with new teams, he reinforced your identity, making sure that the one or two snide remarks or misgenderings that slipped through were cut down without mercy. He was a fearsome ally, and you felt lucky to have him.

You’d transitioned alone. In fact, most of the people who you had called friends in your life had cut you out of theirs before you’d even had a chance to tell them about your true identity. They knew that you had refused to conform to their idea of how you should have dressed, how you should have worn your hair, how you should have behaved, and that had been enough for them to abandon you. Your heart ached to know that their friendship had been conditional. Those people had wanted to make you feel ashamed of yourself, of who you had finally been able to become now that you were out from under their oppressive darkness.

But, you weren’t ashamed. You were determined. You joined up with the RAF, eventually making it through to the SAS, and you promised yourself that if you had to die for your country, you’d not die with your deadname still hanging heavy around your neck.

So, you changed it. Officially. Price had even been there to help you with the paperwork.

This was your first official pride after coming out, and although crowds tended to make any good soldier a little nervous, you had actually never felt more secure. Wearing your rainbow-strapped backpack with your blue, pink, and white trans pride tee was not how you usually chose to represent yourself in public. To be honest, you usually dressed like Price, dark and covert, but not today. Today, you wanted to be yourself, loudly.

You caught your captain’s eye and waved him down. Watching the street for scooters or bikes, he jogged over to you, joining you in the back of the parade.

“Hey, mate. Good to see ya.” His voice was deep and comforting. He shook your hand with genuine warmth, falling into step beside you.

“You, too. I’m glad you’re here, Cap.” You studied his face, still moved by his support.

“All dressed up? Lookin’ sharp.” Price examined your outfit, getting a good look at your facepaint as well. You’d gotten it done at the start of the parade, and you were sure it had halfway flaked off by now.

“Thanks. Oh! Almost forgot. Picked up one of these for you, if you want it.” You handed him a pin. It was a simple pride flag button, but the look on his face was full of surprise and gratitude.

“Nice! Sorry about my lack of rainbows, mate. But, I found this shirt I got for The Reds’ season last year, and I reckoned it’d do.”

Price unzipped his black hoodie and held out his shirt, stretching it for you to see the words. It was the Liverpool Football Club’s merch with their famous song title emblazoned on the front.

“You’ll never walk alone,” you read aloud, looking up at Price for clarification.

“Aye. You’ll never walk alone, either, mate. Promise you that. In fact, the boys should be here any minute.”

He looked down at his watch and then searched through the crowd at the next intersection. You peered into the swarm of flags and glitter and people and saw them there; Soap, Gaz, and Ghost all standing together, craning their necks, searching for you and the captain.

Gaz had come prepared with a big billowing flag in his hands, Soap had clearly had way more fun at the face painting booth than you did, and Ghost, although dressed in just as much black as Price, wore a trans pride medical mask over his mouth.

Price let out a shrill whistle, the pitch of which made your blood run cold from its familiarity. All at once, the trio turned toward you, and when they saw your faces, they broke out into smiles, trotting towards you as they folded around the hoard of people.

Before you knew it, you were surrounded by your team, laughing and joking and dancing together through the street, the music vibrating through your chest, your cheeks burning from your perpetual smile.

Johnny was having the time of his life, somehow charming his way onto a nearby float, waving the flags back and forth like he was leading a charge. Gaz and Ghost were walking in front of you, chatting with the people around you, catching candy being tossed from the crowd.

Price hung back, still keeping step with you. Suddenly, you felt something brush against your wrist. When you looked down, you saw your captain's huge palm swooping under yours to catch it. He took your hand in his, holding it firmly, squeezing it. You looked up at him and smiled, squeezing back.

Where there had once been gray, heavy clouds, now there was only a pale blue sky, and as you felt the sun heat your skin on this chilly June morning, you’d never been more proud to be who you are.

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod #captain john price #john price #call of duty #captain price #captain price x you #captain price x reader #x transmasc reader #trans pride #happy pride 🌈#pride month #lgbt pride

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chicgeekgirl89 · 3 months

Text

Summary: While responding to a multi-car pileup, Carlos is involved in an accident that leaves him fighting for his life. A/N: This was a request from @rubinsteinsilva126. They requested: I’d want a Carlos Whump story! Carlos getting injured, riding in the ambulance that TK responds to the call of, and then TK later holding Carlos in the hospital bed because Carlos was in pain and needed comfort 🥺 (Also, they requested this almost a literal year ago. So I am no longer taking requests because I am clearly bad at following through on them! 😂)

Read on AO3

T.K. does not want to be at the scene of a multi-car pileup. T.K. doesn’t want to be at work in general today. What T.K. wants is to be at home, in his bed, with the covers pulled up over his head, his moody playlist blasting in his ears.

But unfortunately his work schedule doesn’t care about his feelings in the slightest and instead he’s arriving in an ambulance at said multi-car pileup in the middle of the highway.

And his husband is here. Because of course he is.

T.K. spots Carlos directing traffic around the accident as soon as they pull up in the rig. Usually this would be a delight. Usually he would smile and wave and feel a rush of joy at seeing Carlos during a call. There’s something special about working together to save lives.

But today he is not thrilled.

“Oh look, there’s Carlos,” Nancy says as they jump down from the rig and start gathering supplies. “Are you going to go say hi?”

At that moment Carlos sees them, his eyes locking with T.K.’s. Neither of them smile and after a second Carlos looks away, focusing on directing a blue Toyota around the mangled mess of cars.

“Well that seemed a little frosty,” Tommy says as she steps up next to them.

“Frosty? That was downright arctic,” Nancy says, eyeing him curiously. “Trouble in paradise?”

T.K. shifts the backpack on his shoulders, annoyed at how the straps are already digging into him after only a few seconds. “Carlos and I,” he says testily, “are in a fight.”

“Well that explains it,” Nancy says with a roll of her eyes. “You’ve been grouchy all day.”

“No I haven’t,” T.K. snaps back at her in annoyance. The only thing worse than being pissed off at your husband is having your friends point out that you’re pissed off at your husband.

“Sweetheart if looks could kill we’d both be dead,” Tommy says gently. “Several times over.”

“Well I’m—” T.K. huffs, “I’m mad at him.”

“Yeah that doesn’t mean the rest of us should have to suffer,” Nancy says. “What are you so mad at him about?”

T.K. turns his hands into fists, squeezing them tightly as all the feelings of the last twenty-four hours bubble just underneath the surface of his control. “He keeps turning the thermostat down.”

Tommy and Nancy both blink at him. When they don’t speak he presses on. “I turn it up and the next thing I know I come back out and it’s turned down again. It’s like he doesn’t even care about climate change at all!”

“Haven’t you two lived together for like, a long time now?” Nancy asks. “Shouldn’t you have worked out the temperature of your living space at this point?”

“We had to replace the thermostat last week,” T.K. says. “It’s all different now.”

“I understand that must be frustrating, but I’m not sure it’s worth having a fight about,” Tommy says.

“That’s not the only thing,” T.K. continues. “It’s the pillows.”

“The pillows?” Nancy asks.

“He buys allllll these throw pillows and puts them all over the place, but guess what? Are we allowed to touch them? Lean on them? Use them for what they’re intended for? No. Why? Because they’re ‘decorative’ and if I lean on them they’ll ‘lose their shape.’ Isn’t that insane? Why do we have them if we can’t use them?”

“Okay, yes, that does seem kind of annoying,” Tommy says, but T.K. is on a roll, and now that he’s started airing his grievances to the public he can’t seem to stop.

“Also he got his hair cut too short last time!” he gripes, glaring at the back of his husband’s head.

“Um, his body his choice dude,” Nancy says.

“I know that!” T.K. says with a scowl. “But he knows how much I like his curls and he didn’t even tell me he was going to do it, he just showed back up at the loft looking like a sheep after shearing!”

He can hear the words they’d hurled at each other even now, as if he’s reliving them.

T.K. had come out of his shower, still toweling off his hair when he’d heard the whoosh of the AC system kicking on. Eyeing the thermostat on the wall he’d sighed. “Seriously Carlos?” he’d said, turning to look at his husband, who was reading in their bed.

“What?” Carlos asked in confusion.

“You turned the thermostat down. Again.”

“Yeah…” Carlos said slowly. “It was getting stuffy in here.”

“You know that air conditioning is a big part of the issue with our carbon footprint.” This shouldn’t have been a big deal to him, but T.K. had come from a meeting grumpy and in the mood for a fight.

Carlos set his book down and scoffed. “I don’t think using the air conditioning that was built into our home long before we moved in is that big of an issue T.K. We live on the top floor. Heat rises. It gets warm up here without it on.”

“Then open a window.”

Carlos bristled, rising to the bait T.K. was laying out for him.“It’s ninety five degrees outside! The air is so stagnant out there it’s like opening an oven door! Why are you freaking out about this?”

“I’m not freaking out, I’m just asking you to think about the environment and our electric bill!”

“Our electric bill is fine! What do you want me to do, plant a tree every time I turn the temperature down a degree?”

“That would be a start.”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “It’s my home too T.K. I should be allowed to have a say in it.”

“Oh, like I have a say with the throw pillows?” T.K. snapped.

“That’s totally different!”

“How Carlos? How is it different? You want to use the air conditioning, I want to use the throw pillows. It’s exactly. the. same.” He gestured sharply with his hand to emphasize his point.

“Because the air conditioning doesn’t lose shape and color when you lean against it! I picked them all out, I’d like them to stay nice so that when people come over they don’t look like shit!” Carlos’ eyes flashed dangerously, a sign that he was well and truly pissed off.

“You think our friends are judging us for our misshapen throw pillows? Wow you really are a control freak.”

“You don’t care if our friends think our home is nice?”

“I really don’t.” That wasn’t true, but it felt good to say it in the moment.

Carlos rolled his eyes.“Okay. Sure. Next time we have game night we’ll just let our all friends sit against lumpy, flattened pillows.”

“Do you not hear how insane that sounds?!”

“Oh, is it as insane as keeping mealworms in our refrigerator next to our food so they last longer?”

T.K. gapes at him. “You said it was fine!”

“I said it was fine. I didn’t say I liked it,” Carlos said, his lips pressing together into a thin line.

“So you’d rather Lou II starve? Is that what you want?”

“No, of course not T.K.! It is unbelievable to me that you would even say that after all I’ve done for that stupid lizard!”

They’d gone on for another fifteen minutes before descending into frosty silence after T.K. declared he hated Carlos’ new haircut. Both of them refused to move to the couch so they laid angrily next to each other until they fell asleep. The silence had persisted through the morning as they readied for work, ending in a terse, “Love you, be safe,” from both of them before they headed out the door.

“You’re comparing your husband to a sheep?” Tommy asks, an amused smile on her face.

“Yes!” T.K. gripes. “And that’s not all. He also—“

There’s a screech of tires and a car, a silver Honda, pulls out of the line of vehicles that are waiting to pass the accident and tries to zoom around them. Time slows and T.K. sees what’s about to happen and realizes there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

The Honda clips Carlos and sends him spinning, his body whirling like a top before he collapses to the ground, unmoving.

“CARLOS!” His husband’s name tears from his lips and T.K. is running before he can think, feet flying over the ground to reach Carlos’ side. He skids to a stop and drops to his knees, backpack falling to the ground beside him.

Carlos is flat on his back, eyes wide, mouth gaping as a harsh, rasping sound escapes from his chest. He looks shocked, terrified, and T.K. can tell his own face is a mirror of the same horror. “Carlos, Carlos, hey, hey talk to me,” T.K. babbles out, hands hovering, afraid to touch, all his training completely gone from his mind as panic takes over.

“T.K.” His name comes out on a whimper and T.K.’s heart shatters inside of his chest. He’s never heard Carlos make such a terrible sound in his entire life.

The world around him feels like it’s moving through sludge, everything slow, muffled out of focus. The only thing he can see is Carlos’ pained expression. And then there are hands on T.K.’s back and everything snaps into real time as Nancy and Tommy join him on the ground.

“T.K. back up,” Tommy says sharply. “Give us some room to work.”

T.K. shuffles back awkwardly, hands clenching into the knees of his uniform pants to stop them from shaking.

“Carlos, baby, where are you hurting?” Tommy asks as she takes scissors to Carlos’ uniform shirt.

“My…chest…” The words barely come out, strung together on forced gasps that sound terrible and painful. “Leg…”

“He’s not moving air,” Nancy says, a stethoscope pressed to Carlos’ chest. “I think it’s a pneumo Cap.”

“Okay, we’ll have to decompress him,” Tommy says. “Grab the kit. And a splint, he’s got a tibia fracture in his left leg.”

“On it.”

It’s all moving so fast, everything a blur, and T.K. is struggling to keep up with it all. It doesn’t feel real, this can’t be happening. Not to them. Not now. Not again—

“T.K. come hold his head,” Tommy orders.

In hindsight he’ll wonder if she really needed his help or was just giving him something to do so he didn’t come apart at the seams on the asphalt of the highway, but in the moment he does exactly what she asks without question, his hands, cloaked in blue gloves, cradling Carlos’ head just above the c-spine collar they’ve put on him to keep his neck stabilized.

Carlos’ terrified eyes look up at him, boring deeply into his own and T.K. should offer some words of comfort, tell him he’s going to be okay, that they’re taking good care of him, but he can’t. The words won’t come.

He can tell when they finally shove the needle into Carlos’ chest, feels relief when air hisses out and Carlos takes a huge breath. “That’s it, keep breathing Carlos,” Tommy says as Nancy slips an oxygen mask over his face. “You’re doing great. Just relax and let us take care of you.”

She glances up her eyes finding T.K.’s and usually he would grab onto the calm he sees in them, but he can’t right now. His spirit feels wild, like it’s been torn loose from his body and is whirling around in an uncontrollable storm. “T.K., you with me?”

“Yes,” he rasps out. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Good. Because I’m going to need your help getting him onto the backboard.”

They roll Carlos on and then get him into the ambulance. Later T.K. will find out the entire event took less than ten minutes. In the moment it feels like hours.

T.K. sits in the back of the ambulance with Tommy as Nancy drives. He watches as Carlos’ body finally starts to relax, morphine doing its work as it drips into his veins.

He looks up into T.K.’s eyes and it’s only then that T.K. realizes he’s crying, his eyes a darker brown color than usual that only comes when tears are falling. T.K. reaches down and carefully wipes them away.

“I’m—“ Carlos’ voice is breathy and muffled behind the mask, but he pushes the words out anyway, “—sorry.”

T.K. shakes his head his own tears falling now, droplets landing in his lap and soaking into his pants. “You don’t need to be sorry,” he says, brushing a hand gently through those short curls that he said he hated last night and now he loves more than anything in the world. “I’m sorry.”

“Call…my….mom?”

T.K. nods. “As soon as we get to the hospital and you’re checked in okay?”

Carlos’ eyes close and T.K. thinks the medicine and the pain have finally pulled him under, but then the blinks them open again, and they spear him with a terrified intensity. “Scared.”

Oh god. Oh god this is going to break him. “I know you’re scared,” T.K. says, clearing his throat when his voice cracks and resuming brushing his fingers gently through Carlos’ hair. “But you’re okay. You’re stable and we’re almost to the hospital. They’re going to take good care of you and soon…soon all of this will just be a memory. We’ve got you. Tommy’s here and Nancy and…and we’ve got you.”

He hopes that will be enough.

Within fifteen minutes of arriving at the hospital Carlos is taken off to be prepped for surgery. That’s when T.K. finally loses it, collapsing into a chair and sobbing into his hands as Nancy rubs his back while Tommy takes over the task of calling Andrea and his dad.

“He’s going to be okay,” Nancy says, but T.K. can hear tears in her voice too. “It’s a pneumo, some bleeding, broken bones, it’s all fixable. He’ll be all right.”

“What if he’s not?” T.K. cracks out. “What if this is…what if he…and the last thing we did was fight about the thermostat?”

“T.K., Carlos knows it was just a fight,” Nancy says. “Couples have fights. About important stuff and stupid stuff.”

“She’s right.” Tommy sits down on his other side. “Just because you were having an argument, it doesn’t negate everything else. Carlos knows that. And you do too.”

“It was just so stupid,” T.K. says, sniffing and wiping ineffectually at his eyes which will not stop crying. “How could I have been so stupid?” He struggles to push the next words past his throat. “I don’t want to lose him.”

“I know,” Tommy says. “Let’s not go there yet though, hm? Let’s have faith. Carlos is strong. He can pull through this.”

Andrea and his dad arrive and T.K. pulls it together enough to be strong for his mother-in-law who needs to believe that she’s not going to watch her only son die when the loss of her husband still feels so fresh. T.K. explains what happened, interprets everything the doctor told him on arrival, discusses what the surgery will entail, and the possible outcomes.

It’s exhausting and he takes himself off to the bathroom for another crying jag about two hours after they arrive, returning with red, swollen eyes that they both can see. Andrea immediately folds him into a hug and they stay that way until the doctor finally returns.

He reports that Carlos’ surgery went well. They repaired his lung along with some other internal damage and set his leg fracture. He’s also got three broken ribs and a concussion, but overall he’s in good shape considering. It could have been much worse.

Somehow that phrase doesn’t feel like a comfort.

Tommy and Nancy leave once Carlos is settled into a room. He’s very out of it, the sedation and heavy pain medication taking a severe toll on his ability to stay awake. He manages a hello to his mom and Owen before lapsing back into sleep again. It’s brief, but it goes a long way toward reassuring them all that he’ll be okay.

His dad heads out after that to grab some things from the loft so T.K. doesn’t have to spend the entire night in the hospital in his uniform and Andrea decides to go to the chapel for a little bit. T.K. is grateful for the space.

He sits in the chair next to Carlos’ bed, picking at a stray string on the cuff of his shirt. God he fucking hates hospitals. They’ve spent more time inside these walls the last few years than any human should have to. If he never has to come here again it will be too soon.

“T…K.?”

The croak has him snapping his head up to find Carlos struggling to open his eyes, pain lining the tension in his limbs, the darkness of his eyes, the creases of his forehead. He has medication onboard, but it’s like his body still knows how broken it is, even if he can’t fully feel it.

“Hey.” T.K. sits forward and forces a smile that feels like it’s straining his face. “Hey baby.”

Carlos swallows, the pain mixing with confusion in his eyes. “Am I—?”

“You’re okay,” T.K. says. They filled him in the first time he woke up, but it’s clear that it didn’t stick. “You were in an accident. Your lung was collapsed and you have a broken tibia and some ribs, but you’re going to be okay.”

Carlos nods, his eyes closing briefly as if he’s struggling to take it all in. “I’m okay?” Carlos asks, like he’s really not sure.

“Yes,” T.K. says firmly, reaching out to cover the back of his hand. “Yes, you’re okay. It’s going to be a long recovery, but you are okay.”

Carlos’ next breath is shaky and full of tears. “I’m not—I don’t want to leave you.”

God damn it just when he thinks he can’t cry anymore. “You’re not leaving me,” T.K. manages to choke out, squeezing his hand. “You’re not—you’re not dying. I promise baby. I promise.”

“I love you,” Carlos is crying in earnest now, like he has absolutely no control over his emotions. “I love you. I’m sorry.”

“Shh,” T.K. soothes, sliding the chair closer so he can run his hand up and down Carlos’ arm. “There’s no need for sorries.”

“I wasn’t safe.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Carlos swallows hard like it hurts him to do so. “Do you want some water?” T.K. asks and when Carlos nods he helps him sip a little bit.

When he’s done he licks his lips and meets T.K.’s eyes. “We can turn the thermostat up.”

T.K. chokes out a laugh, his eyes still damp with tears. “I don’t care about the damn thermostat.”

“I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“Me neither.” T.K. grabs a tissue and uses it to gently wipe the tears from Carlos’ face. “We’ll bring in a neutral third party to deal with the thermostat setting. Paul can do it.”

Now Carlos manages a small huff of a laugh. “And we can use the throw pillows.”

“Thank god,” T.K. says, trying to lighten the mood. “I was ready to sign the divorce papers on that one.” He reaches up and brushes a hand through Carlos’ hair. “And I love your hair. I love all of you. All the time. Any way you are.”

“I love you too.” He shifts a little bit, trying to get more comfortable. “Was my mom here?”

“She’s in the chapel. I think she needed some time to herself,” T.K. says. “My dad was here too. He went to grab us some stuff. If there’s anything particular you want from home I can text him.”’

Carlos shakes his head. “Just you.”

“I’m here,” T.K. says immediately. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thank you.” Carlos closes his eyes and a shudder runs over his frame.

“Are you cold?” T.K. asks. He knows all too well that blood loss brings on a special type of chill. One that settles into your bones, that you can’t get rid of no matter how hard you try.

“A little,” Carlos says, shivering again and then letting out a small, pained sound as the movement jars his injured body. “Can you…can you hold me? Please?”

He shouldn’t. There’s barely any room in the hospital bed. And Carlos is covered in bandages and IV’s and the cast on his left leg. But honestly, T.K. needs some physical reassurance as much as his husband does right now.

So he carefully maneuvers himself into the bed, moving so slowly that it’s almost painful, tucking himself up against the railing so that his touch against Carlos is practically featherlight. “Why don’t you try and get some sleep,” he says quietly, running his fingers gently over Carlos’ stomach in a soothing motion.

It always helps Carlos sleep to have his back rubbed, but this will have to do for today. He watches as the tension slips out of his husband’s body, sleep pulling him down and T.K. breathes out. They’ve survived. Again.

#Tarlos #911 Lone Star #Tarlos Fic #911lsfic #Car Accident #Whump #Carlos Reyes Whump

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ptersparkers · 2 years

Note

I'd love to see Aaron visiting his pre-school teacher girlfriend. I've got a kiddo at work hat literally melts in my arms when mom drops her off with me. Would love to see his response to such a thing. If I could request her being plus size! 🥺💖

hi hi - currently thinking about aaron with a daughter and my heart is melting. also i feel like i write my fics with little to no physical body descriptions (except shorter than aaron bc im short as hell and im kinda into the height difference) -- and i didn’t know exactly how you wanted me to write so i didn’t really lean into anyone’s insecurities, as some fics do, just bc i want to be inclusive since all bodies types are very beautiful.

HOWEVER! may this blurb and all my future writing be something you can relate to.

fem!reader for those wondering <3

***

It’s one in the afternoon on a sunny Friday when Aaron picks you up from work.

It’s a half day, meaning you get off of work earlier and the kiddos in your class are more energetic than the rest of the week because they know they’re going home early. Your classroom is as colorful as ever, the walls lined with number and alphabet charts, science posters framing the doorway, and art projects from your students hang above their cubbies where their backpacks are stores.

You walk around the room with your hands clasped behind your back and observe as the children tidy their desks, four of which face each other. A few students have to be told to slow down when they start to run because they’re holding colored pencils. Others follow your instructions while a few choose to talk amongst themselves instead of cleaning up.

It’s when they’re reminded their parents are likely waiting outside do the students hurry to clean their spaces. You walk around, one by one, giving each student a high-five when they’ve tucked their papers in their desk’s storage and when their notebooks and other materials are neat and organized. Each student automatically begins to grab their belongings and file in a single line against the wall by the door when you’ve dismissed them from their desk with appraisal for their neatness.

When your students are lined and eager to leave with their hands gripping the straps of their backpacks, you can’t help but smile at the group of children. You swing the door open and remind everyone to walk at an orderly fashion and watch as they exit the front doors into the front area of the building where other teaching aids are waiting.

The kids disperse when they see their parents and you watch from behind as their parents check in with the teaching aids before they go. It’s always amusing to you to witness their little legs climb into their booster seats.

Mary, your longest friend at this school who teaches the third grade, stands next to you.

“Up to anything fun this weekend?” she asks, bumping your cardigan-clad shoulders.

“I’m having a quiet weekend in with my boyfriend and his son,” you say with a grin.

“Ah, the mysterious boyfriend,” Mary says with a laugh.

Aaron’s been a bit of a mystery to your friends at work—always aloof and has never been to teacher-student functions because of his work schedule. You see him quite often given the circumstances but some people think you might be making him up for an excuse to stay at home. Mary’s the only person who’s met Aaron before, but she likes to pretend that your boyfriend is just a figment of your imagination to watch you squirm.

“You’ve met him before, dummy,” you say with a laugh. “Although I’m sure Laura probably thinks I’m making him up.”

“Or she thinks he’s an absolute troll of a guy,” Mary snorts. “It’s no secret that she’s pissed at you for receiving the ‘Teacher of the Year’ award this quarter.”

“She should bring it up with the district, not me,” you say, dusting off your shoulders for dramatic effect. “It feels like she’s had it out for me since day one.”

“Laura has a stick up her ass,” Mary whispers into your ear, which causes you to burst out into a fit of giggles. “Uh oh, the Wicked Witch is here.”

Laura’s on the other end of the pick-up area and you angle yourself so that you’re not facing her. You get a text from Aaron at the same time saying that he’s parked and walking towards the school. You grin at your phone and Mary snickers.

“Shush,” you mutter, knowing you have a lovesick grin on your face.

You spot Aaron across the street, donned in a dark grey suit and expensive shoes and tie to match. His hair flows perfectly in the cool breeze and his strides are long and confident as he crosses the road.

Aaron spots you easily and you keep yourself from sprinting into his arms. Careful to keep it professional at your place of work, Aaron presses a kiss to your cheek and embraces you for a short while, but it’s enough to inhale his cologne.

“Missed you,” Aaron says.

“Good day at work?” you ask.

“Actually yeah, everything went surprisingly well with no hiccups.” Aaron turns his attention to your friend. “Hi Mary, it’s nice to see you again.”

“Hey Aaron,” Mary greets with a wave. “Long time no see.”

Avery, one of your students, politely taps your hip to get your attention.

“What’s wrong, honey?” you asked.

“Can I wait with you?” Avery asks. “Mommy’s late today.”

“Of course, Avery.” You grab her hand when tears start to threaten to spill from her eyes—Avery’s mom works a bit farther than the rest of the parents and it isn’t unusual for her to be a few minutes late to pick her daughter up. But for a child, it feels like eternity.

“Did you like our lesson today?” you ask, bending down to her level while keeping your hands together.

“I really liked learning about dinosaurs!” Avery exclaims as if her worries were never there to begin with.

Aaron’s watching you from beside Mary, an adorning look plastered across his face. He’s too caught up in his fantasies about creating a family with you; Jack’s warmed up to you in the few years you’ve been dating Aaron, but he can’t help but wonder what you’d be like as a mother of your own.

You’re able to get Avery to talk about her interests to keep her from thinking about anything else. She obliges and you squat with a grin as she becomes animated with her storytelling. He makes small talk with Mary, who can clearly see how smitten he is with you, but he doesn’t think he cares too much.

“You guys would make cute kids,” Mary says to Aaron with a nudge.

“Mary,” he warns playfully.

“What good is a friend if not to meddle?” she chides before excusing herself to assist other students.

Avery’s mom arrives a few short minutes after Mary leaves and Aaron watches you greet her mother and send the girl on her way home. He watches with his hands in his pocket and accompanies you back to the classroom once your students have left the school grounds.

Aaron knows he wants kids with you. He just needs to ask you to be his wife first.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x oc #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner blurbs #aaron hotchner imagines #aaron hotchner oneshots #aaron hotchner scenarios #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds blurbs #fem reader #ask #anonymous #my writing

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jungle-angel · 11 months

Note

I NEED 2. “I um… I made you dinner” with Rhett pretty please 🥺

My love, I've been thinking about this all day long, you don't even know how hard (lol).

"Alright, everybody put your chairs up on your desks and make sure you have everything," you told your fifth graders. "Bus students, you know where to go."

The wooden chairs and desks in your classroom clunked against each other as your fifth graders put them up, gathering their coats and backpacks from the cubby spaces and hooks in the back of the classroom. Thank God today had been a half day and that your main lesson block on math was finally over. You swore that if you had to look at another fraction one more time, you were gonna go insane.

"Mrs. Abbot!" chirped one of your students. "I think I'm missing my bus tag."

"It's right here Jaime," you told him, clipping the yellow tag to the top strap of his backpack.

Your students came to shake your hand and say goodbye before they left the room, heading to the front of the school to wait for the busses or their parents. Your phone suddenly began vibrating in your back pocket and when you saw the contact picture, you knew it was Rhett.

"What's up Grumpy?" you joked.

"You've still got a half day right darlin?" he asked.

"Yeah and I'm on my way to get Amy and Hannah, what's going on?" you asked. "Did another calf come?"

"Nope, I've got a little surprise for you."

You made a face, wondering what sort of hair-brained thing your husband had been up to, being home alone all day with Tatum and Tanner. "Alright I'll be home in twenty."

"See ya then sweet cheeks," Rhett replied before hanging up.

You headed out the front doors of the school and down the cobbled path to the early-ed building, the last of the fall leaves just having fell from the quaking aspens near the play yard. Out of all the buildings on the school campus, this one was by far your favorite.

You walked right through the creaky front gate and up the steps that lead into the building, the kindergarten class immediately on your right and the preschool one to your left. There were only a few kids left in Amy's class, most of them already having taken the bus home, but you knew that in less than a few minutes, they too would head for home.

"Amy, sweetheart, Momma's here," her teacher called happily.

Amy ran right to you, giggling up a storm as she threw her arms right around your waist. "You ready to go home?" you asked her.

"Yeah!" she chirped.

You thanked her teacher and let her grab her coat from the hallway cubbies while Amy proudly showed you the little symbol she had chosen on a painted stone to show that it was hers......a bull kicking up his back legs.

You gathered up Hannah from the preschool room and led the girls out to the dirt lot, loading them up in the truck and buckling them in before heading for home. It was only eleven-thirty in the morning, but the earlier you could get home and get everything out of the way, the better, seeing as you and Rhett had a long vacation to look forward to.

Finally you reached home and unloaded the girls, the two of them charging into the warm and cozy house to kick off their little fuzzy ugg boots and strip off their hats and coats to go play down in the basement playroom. Yet a rather spicy and enticing smell had started to waft from the kitchen and a fire already crackling away in the living room fireplace.

"You're home early," Rhett chuckled as he poured a little bit of milk into his coffee mug.

"Half day," you said, dumping your back on the hallway bench. "And thank God. Our math main lesson block is finally over and I don't have to worry about it anymore."

Rhett laughed again as he lifted the lid off the crockpot and filled the whole kitchen with a spicy and herby scent. "Is that my little surprise?" you asked with a sly grin.

"I um.......I made you dinner," Rhett said as his cheeks began to go hot.

"You made me dinner?"

"I'm not the greatest cook in the world darlin but....."

"Rhett, how can you say that?" you laughed. "You made a prime rib last Christmas that had your godfather begging for the recipe."

Rhett laughed a little bit. In all the years you had been married, you still thought Rhett was an excellent cook, no matter what.

All day long, you let the chicken legs cook in the crockpot until they were practically falling off the bones. You, Rhett, his parents and the kids all ate until there were no leftovers to be had, surprised and grateful by Rhett's sweet little gesture.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #amy abbott #outer range

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forever-rogue · 1 year

Note

Steve start to fall for the reader who is a metal head, Eddie’s best friend to be exact. But his “king” Steve reputation tells him he can’t he physically can’t be going for the “freak” best friend. He tries everything he can to shake off his crush for the reader, but nothing works so he resorts to bullying them calling them names, backhand comments you know douche things like “King” Steve would do but in the name of love . Then he see reader with Eddie’s arm around their shoulder, he should be jealous right because he is the one who is being mean to the reader but at the same time the reader his girl (even if they don’t know yet) no one should be touching them like that except him obviously. A drunk confession lead him pouring his feelings into the reader, do they like him back?

AN | No, but Stevie just needed to see the light. And it’s you that helps!🥺

Warnings | Language

Pairing | Steve x GN!Reader

Word Count | 2.7k

Masterlist | Steve, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A heavy scowl tugged down the corners of his pretty mouth as he watched you from across the cafeteria. Ugh. He didn’t even know why he bothered wasting any of his time on you, even if it was a few moments of stolen glances. You were just so infuriating that he couldn’t stand it.

He watched as you almost skipped over to Eddie before sitting down at his side, sliding your tray onto the table. You were almost too graceful for someone that was best friends with the town freak. Too p - annoying. You were just silly, dumb, and annoying Steve decided then and there. That was it. That was why he was feeling the way he was.

For some reason you must have felt him watching you because you looked up and caught his eye, giving him a small little wave of your hand along with a tentative smile. The boy scoffed before rolling his eyes and looking away. You laughed softly, unphased by his reaction and turned your attention back to your friend.

“I wonder what his problem is,” you mused softly, shrugging it off as you grabbed a slice of apple. Eddie watched you, an eyebrow raised as if the answer was so obvious, “what?”

“He hates us, that’s what,” the boy scoffed, shaking his head in annoyance, “he’s just another little sheep…King Steve? Yeah, right.”

“Eddie,” you tutted softly, “there’s no reason to be rude-”

“They’re rude to us all the time!” he scoffed, “what’s the difference?”

“The difference is that those are their issues,” you insisted softly, “we can still be nice in return. We don’t need to be mean too. That won’t ever get anyone anywhere.”

“I love you but sometimes I hate that you’re right,” he leaned back in his seat and tossed a cracker at you, causing you to laugh, “soft heart in the big bad world. Don’t ever change.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” you grinned. A shiver ran down your spine at the familiar feeling of being watched. You knew that if you turned around you’d find Steve Harrington’s eyes on you once again. But right then and there you decided you weren’t giving him the satisfaction.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You’d never realized just how close your locker was to Steve’s. Not until you felt him becoming more and more aware of you did you notice him more. His locker was only a few down from yours, and you were both packing up to leave for the day. You shuffled a few things around in your backpack before putting them in the locker, curiosity getting the better of you as you looked over at Steve.

He shifted his gaze away almost as quickly as you’d caught him, shaking his head. You were sure if he was silently cursing himself or the universe, but you weren’t about to let him ruin your day. You closed your locker and padded the few steps over to him, “hey Steve.”

“What do you want, freak?” Venom laced his voice as he frowned at you, taking a step back as if you were some sort of pariah. You were silent for a moment and he snapped his fingers in your face, “can I help you?”

“I just wanted to make sure everything was alright,” you played with the strap of your backpack, twisting the nylon nervously. Something about being right in front of him made your heart pitter-patter nervously. He really was handsome; you liked his freckles and a part of you wished you could get a good look at all of them, “you seem…upset today.”

“Why do you care?” oh. You cared. That made his stomach turn, but the sensation felt quite…pleasant.

“I dunno,” you admitted, “I don’t like seeing people upset and you’re a person so…yeah.”

“I don’t need your little fake pity,” he slammed the door shut before turning to leave, “weirdo.”

“Bye Steve,” he hated the fact that your pretty smile didn’t fade despite his negative energy. He internally groaned at himself; your smile was not pretty. Average at best, “regardless, I hope you have a nice weekend!”

He was grumbling under his breath as he stalked away. A weird feeling settled in his stomach and he wasn’t quite sure how to place it. Steve couldn’t remember the last time someone had actually checked in to see how he was doing. Weird.

Nonetheless the boy refused to turn to see if you were still standing there and watching him…he couldn’t stand looking at your soft eyes. They made him feel some type of way.

“You’re doing it again,” Eddie had come up behind you, quiet as a mouth and almost causing you to jump in surprise. You gently pushed his shoulder before shaking your head, “one might almost think you had a crush on Steve Harrington.”

“Don’t be silly,” you didn’t have a crush on him. Most definitely not…but he was easy on the eyes, you’d admit that much. You looped your arm through his before starting to drag him along with you, “he just seems like he needs a friend - a real friend. I don’t know, sometimes he looks so sad. Besides that, he’d not like the rest of them, he’s much better.”

“Hmm,” Eddie pressed a kiss to the side of your head before laughing softly, “maybe so. But that’s not our concern at the moment - it’s time for you to help me with my new campaign!”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Steve didn’t even want to go out. All he wanted was to be at home, comfy in his pajamas with some pizza and maybe a movie or two. He most definitely did not want to be out with the gang of meatheads he called friends hanging around the Starcourt.

He’d basically been sitting there in silence, laughing at the appropriate times but feeling more like a zombie than anything else. He kept stealing glances at his watch, practically counting down the minutes before he could leave without anyone thinking much about it.

There was something he absolutely hated about the way Eddie was so casually intimate with you. His heartstrings tugged and his stomach felt off as he looked at the way you seemed to lean into his touch. Were you dating him? Gross. Steve hoped not. Although it didn’t matter to him in the slightest. It really didn’t even bother him.

But then he saw you. And he practically froze with his soda halfway to his mouth as he stared at you. You were walking out of the theater - he immediately found himself wondering what kind of movies you liked - with Eddie at your side. You laughed at something he said before he wrapped his arms around your shoulders. And Steve almost lost it. What could Eddie Munson say to you that was so funny? So funny that you were giggling and scrunching your nose in a way that was much cuter than it should have been.

Then why was he feeling like this? He hated it. He didn’t understand.

Fate, fortune, bad luck - whatever it was - seemed to favor him because you looked right on over. It was like you had some sort of Steve sixth sense and just knew where he was and that he was watching you.

And despite the fact that he was sure he had nothing but a scowl on his face, you smiled and raised your hand at him in a small wave. It was meant just for him, a silent little exchange between the two of you. The sneered before looking away and turning his attention back to his friends. Friends being a term that was used extremely lightly.

The weird part was that deep down, he would rather have come over and left with you. But he quickly pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. He didn’t really want to hang out with you, there was no way, but he was just extremely bored. That was all. Nothing more nothing less.

An average person, you know, would have called it jealousy. But Steve would have just laughed it off.

Steve Harrington did not have feelings for you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You had a free period and decided to get a head start on some assignments so you made your way to the library. You like the quietness of the space and the fact that not many people were around to create unnecessary distractions. The table you normally like to sit at was unoccupied so you made your way over and set down your bag.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until you realized that the space next to you was taken. And it wasn’t just taken by anyone - it was the golden boy himself. He shot you a glance when he’d noticed you arriving but didn’t say anything else. Part of you was tempted to say something to him, but you decided not to push anything. Instead you gave him a tightlipped smile before sitting down and pulling out your notebook and textbook. You got to work in silence, wrapped in what you were doing and not really paying attention to Steve.

What you missed was the fact that he was the one peeking at you every couple of minutes. He watched you write, studying your handwriting as you diligently took notes, learning all the little expressions you made while reading. Just because, you know, you were smart and he wanted to see if there was anything he could learn from you.

After a little while you couldn’t help yourself and looked over at him. You set down your pen before angling your body towards him, “everything alright?”

For once, he wasn’t quite sure what to say, but knew that he didn’t want to be mean. He nodded his head before attempting to refocus himself on his homework. But the words seemed to swim together and nothing made sense and his mind was wandering, wandering, wandering. Eventually he grew extremely frustrated and threw his pen down with a loud groan.

You thought about ignoring him, but that didn’t sit right within yourself. You set down your own pen and scooted your chair closer to him, hesitant and unsure of how far you were going to be pushing him. You tentatively reached over and put your hand on his arm, hoping he wouldn’t flinch out of your touch. To your surprise he didn’t.

“Steve?” you asked softly and he allowed himself to look up at you with wide, unsure eyes, “do you need some help?”

“I…” he paused for a long moment, inhaling deeply before slowly letting it out. But as he looked at the soft expression written all over your face he found that he didn’t want to be a douchebag or an asshole any longer. He nodded and leaned back in his chair, “y-yeah.”

“Okay,” and your entire face lit up. Steve liked that sight, he decided, and he hoped that he could see more often, “what do you need help with?”

“Chemistry,” he admitted sheepishly, pointing at the crossed out formulas and calculations on his sheet of paper. His cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink as he grew embarrassed by his sloppy penmanship. But none of it seemed to both you, instead you leaned in and tried to see what was going on, “there’s so many little things to remember! It’s so hard…I don’t know how anyone does it.”

“I can show you a few tricks I like to use,” you grabbed your notebook and ripped out a fresh sheet of paper. He watched in awe as you started to write, mesmerized by how delicate your movements seemed, “they help me and maybe they’ll help you too.”

“Thanks,” he said softly, causing you to nod happily, “I appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem,” you sounded so sweet that it made Steve want from how saccharine it all was, “I’m sure you’ll have it down in no time!”

And yet, he found himself not wanting to have it down quickly. He…he wanted you to stay there with him.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been about a month since your little impromptu study session at the library with Steve. And ever since then things seemed to have shifted with him. Instead of scowling at you or saying something nasty, he offered you quick, shy smiles. If he ever ran into you, he spoke few words but kept them kind. You liked the change, you weren’t going to lie. What you would have liked even more was spending more time with him but you weren’t going to go and push any envelopes. Why ruin a good thing when you didn’t need to?

It was Steve that found you the next time; you wondered if he had purposely sought you out or if it was a matter of right time and place. But it was after school and he was walking towards you, against the sea of people so it appeared not to be purposeful rather than anything else. You were just closing your locker when he appeared in front of you.

“Hi Steve,” you said softly and he practically melted at how you said his name. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find the right words, but only managing to open and close his mouth a few times, “is everything alright?”

“Y-yeah,” he managed to choke you finally, “I was wondering if you…umm, if y-you wanted a ride home today.”

“Oh.”

“I-I know you usually go home with Munson, but I didn’t see him here today,” he stuffed his hands in his pockets, rocking gently back and forth on his heels, “so I wanted to see if you needed a ride.”

“Oh,” you made a small sound, almost of disbelief, “that’s really nice of you! If you’re up for it, that’d be great. But are you sure you should be hanging out with me? What would your friends say, hmm?”

“I don’t care about that,” and it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders at the revelation, “I don’t…I don’t care about them. Not really.”

“Well,” you gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, “that’s definitely not what I expected to hear from you.”

“Yeah,” he laughed softly and you decided that he had a really nice laugh. Maybe you could get him to do more of it, “me neither. But I…I wanted to hang out with you.”

“Me?”

“Yes,” he admittedly shyly and you couldn’t keep the beaming grin off your face, “i-if you want to that is.”

“I’d love you to,” you promised and he visibly relaxed, “anything special you had in mind?”

“Not really,” he scratched the back of his neck nervously, “I didn’t think I’d get this far to be honest. I haven’t exactly…been the nicest.”

“You’ll find that I don’t take a lot of things personally,” you couldn’t stop yourself from touching his cheek and brushing his hair out of your face, “not like that anyway. Maybe we could go see a movie or something. Or get a bite to eat?”

“Yes,” he was so eager that it made your heart happy, “that sounds good.”

“Cool,” you bit the inside of your cheek as you felt him reach for your hand with his, “I like you, Steve Harrington. You’re a good one, I can tell.”

“I like you,” you exchanged shy smiles as he gently tugged on your hand, “a lot.”

And you liked him a lot too, you decided.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #joe keery #joe keery x you #joe keery x reader #st

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pseudowho · 3 months

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is it me or do male literature teachers have some sort of particular vibe? i have to admit, i giggled a little when i found out that mr. haitch was a literature teacher, as i was reminded of my literature teacher back in my 8th grade - 10th grade years of high school.

the man was equally OBSESSED with his wife, considering the amount of times i've heard him mention how much he loved her breasts and curves. (never stopped talking about her, honestly.)

he fancied absolutely morbid pieces of literature, was strict but would lose his goddamn mind (in a positive way) when someone answered a question about shakespeare's plays correctly. used to always wear collared shirts and suit pants, never seen wearing anything else.

he was also very odd and had his rare moments when he was adorably giggly. he used smack the board, kick the duster and once even wore a backpack's strap as a belt when his one broke 💀.

most didn't like him (apart from the few girls who had a crush on him) due to the 'lectures' he used to give to try and make us realise the importance of education and our actions.

but deep down, he was just a big ol' softie (cared immensely about his two daugthers and actually sounded pleasantly surprised when I asked him how he was feeling one day 🥺).

okay this was a longer ask than usual but i just wanted to share how interesting it is that there's always at least one mr. haitch/kento nanami-like man in some part of the world.

you just outta find him in time before one beautiful soul (such as yourself) snatches him right up.

I get this completely! I had an English Literature teacher who I adored as well. He was in his fifties, really dry and sarcastic, had a really deep monotonous voice. He was smart, witty, kind of goofy, and deeply in love with his wife (also a literature teacher at our school). Whenever she had to pass through his classroom, he would basically heart-eyes at her until she was gone, and then continue the lesson.

He voted me "most likely to rule the world (and deserve it)" aged 17 and I will take it to my grave. I loved him so. Wherever you are, Mr.B, I hope you're well, and I know in hindsight now that you are exactly the kind of man I'm obsessed with!

Male Literature teachers are a whole different species. I haven't met one I didn't like.

I'd advise you to start hanging around schools, but maybe not actually, bit sus really.

-- Haitch xxx

#pseudowho #pseudowho answers you

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j0elmill3r · 1 year

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I’m so sorry tumblr emptied your inbox. This website is amazing but has such horrible flaws and for what…

I hope school has been treating you well! I’ve missed you :)

Been having a hard time lately, something I’ve been thinking about lately is how joel holds sarah and ellie (look at his hands in the show) like 🥺

headcanons for how possessive/protective joel is over babygirl. Not in a yandere or dark way but like he’s lost one daughter and can’t lose his other one. I really liked that bit in one of your fics where babygirl is placed inside tommy’s backpack like a makeshift carrier.

if you read this, thank you for taking the time whether you write this or not :)

hey there anon! Tell me about it, the love hate relationship I have with this platform is crazy, and as for school...it's definitely been treating me some way. And I totally get the thing of how Joel holds Ellie and Sarah, that scene in the first episode when he's carrying Sarah? My fatherless self is on the floor rocking myself to sleep - But headcanons you want? Then it's headcanons you shall receive my sweet nonnie, hope you're well!

So in the days following the outbreak, it's rough. As much as Joel is very much grieving the loss of Sarah, he knows that he still needs to look after you, you're just a little girl.

As a way to keep you safe and off of the ground, Tommy and Joel take turns in carrying you strapped to their backs, your chest pressed against them with a backpack holding you in.

When they eventually reach some, albeit shitty, government aid, Joel is so reluctant to pass you over to get checked by anyone. He's not entirely sure on who he can trust at this point, so he's not about to hand you over to someone who could potentially cause you harm.

But then that situation goes, for a better lack of terms, tits up when the first wave of fireflies attempt to overrun the place - and bring a swarm of infected with them. Joel had never grabbed you so quickly, snatching you out of the cot you lay in and running out of the small medical camp, all while assuring you that you were okay.

Since then, Joel watched you like a hawk. Even when you had 'settled down' in the QZ in Boston and he was happy with Tess, he found it hard to trust her to be alone with you - He had seen what people would to each other, and kids were no exception to that rule. As much as he knew that Tess would never do anything to hurt you, he didn't know that for certain, so found it to be better safe than sorry.

He had already lost Sarah, he couldn't lose you too - Not his baby girl.

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moonchild-in-blue · 11 months

Text

The Mist (Sleep Token)

So this is the aftermath of this very cool post by @reveries-of-my-mind. I was supposed to get it done weeks ago, but alas. It is here now I suppose.

Basically is Vessel as a kid (he's adorable here 🥺), wandering around in the woods, and encountering a Magical Clearing with a Strange Mist. Slightly different from my original idea, but it's actually kinda cute?? This was supposed to be much shorter, but once I start writing, it's hard to stop lol. 2k is not too bad though, right?

Anyways, here it is. I hope you like it Kay 🍄 (Also I used your picture for the divider, hope you don't mind!) 🌿🌹

The Mist had been with him ever since he could remember. As Vessel looked over his window, morning coffee in hand, a thin layer of fog covered his garden, speckled with red flowers.

---

It was a Saturday morning like any other. The sun peeked shyly behind grey clouds, extending its warm fingers to the earth bellow, still wet from the earlier rain.

His grandparents’ garden overlooked the great forest behind, lush trees and a sparkling creek impassively waiting behind the white fence. For any eight-year-old boy in the midst of summer holidays, with no friends around and plenty of time to kill, the woods were the perfect playground.

Everyday he would venture into the forest. He knew each and every rock and bush that formed the path to the stream. He knew which berries were the sweetest; which tree provided better shade. His grandfather had taught him to recognize the different singing birds and where they nested – under his bed, a shoebox containing his growing collection of nature findings was filled with all types of feathers, carefully catalogued in a piece of crinkled paper.

Today, he had decided to be a little braver. He would go on an adventure. With a very nice stick in hand, and a backpack full of sandwiches, two tangerines, and a water bottle - lovingly provided by his grandmother - the blonde boy ventured further into the woods.

---

After a little while of walking, his first sandwich long gone, the boy reached a tunnel encrusted on the base of a ridge, no bigger than his little frame, completely dark aside from a very faint light coming from the opposite entrance. It seated inconspicuously behind a curtain of leaves and vines, barely visible to anyone not paying attention.

But to the adventurous boy, nothing escaped his sight. His little blue eyes twinkled with excitement. Finally, something new. He adjusted his backpack straps, took a deep breath, and crawled his way through the hole.

With scrapped knees and spider webs clinging to his hair and clothes, the boy stood in an unfamiliar clearing, tall and quite proud of himself for making it through the dark, scary tunnel.

The first thing he noticed was the silence. Usually the woods were brimming with life, the sounds of birds, shuffling creatures, and buzzing insects, serving as companions to his lone hummings. But here, on the other side of the mysterious passage, the sound seemed to deafen to a low whisper, almost as if the ground itself was vibrating. As if the trees were talking amongst themselves.

Then, there was the mist.

The clearing was a small, rounded meadow, carpeted with soft grass and a shallow brook, towering trees adorning the edges. A gentle shadow, cast by the leafy canopies, draped the enclosure in green light. And hovering over the grass, swirling in intricate, delicate patterns, was a fine layer of white mist.

Whenever a sun beam pierced the strange fog, the mist parted like tiny crystal prisms, painting the glade with translucent rainbows. The boy was elated – he had never seen or imagined something so extraordinary, not even in his wildest dreams. And this place, this enchanted forest, was all his!

The boy suddenly felt very important. He knew this place was special, and it had must be protected, like a closely guarded secret. His little heart thumped with excitement and wonder, sparkling blue eyes drinking in his surroundings. As he walked further inside the clearing, the boy noticed how the mist seemed to halt its movements, as if it could feel his presence.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. I’m an explorer! See?”

He brandished his stick in the air, proving his harmlessness to the Mist.

“Can I seat here?” he asked, pointing to the soft grass bellow. The Mist seemed to respond, swirling ever-so-slightly around his pale ankles.

Satisfied with this reply, the boy slumped down on the ground, glad to be able to rest after what if felt like hours walking. He took off his shoes and socks, and laid back on the grass, singing contently to himself. What an amazing discovery! I should keep this in my notebook.

From the dirty backpack, he produced a colourful sketchpad and a pencil case, along with his water-bottle and snacks. The pad was halfway filled with a myriad of drawings: several birds and leaves, his grandparent’s yard, countless types of mushrooms and insects, and even some strange-looking forest gnomes, no doubt inspired by the bedtime stories his grandfather would read him. Anything he would come across during his adventures was recorded in his notebook, and this mysterious place, this important secret of his, deserved several pages dedicated to it.

After a few hours of drawing the clearing and the swirling fog, and when the last of his food had been consumed, the boy knew it was time to go home. Before leaving, he chose some of the prettiest pebbles he gathered from the brook and made a neat little pile in the place he had been seated earlier, as a thank you to the mist for showing him such a wonderful place.

“Goodbye trees! Goodbye Mist! I’ll come back tomorrow, okay? Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about this place – I’m very good at keeping secrets you know?” he waved his little arms farewell, hoping somehow the forest would hear him.

The Mist twirled over his little rock offering, and the boy left with a grin, very pleased with himself for being able to talk with the magic fog.

---

When he stood in front of the dark tunnel the next day, his stomach felt funny with dread. What if the misty clearing was no longer there? What if it was all his imagination? No, it was there! It’s all here on my notebook. Once again he took a deep breath, adjusted his backpack, and crossed the dark passage to the secluded meadow.

And there it was – the strange vapour, the leafy canopies, the soft grass. Just as he had left it. He could hardly contain his excitement, blonde hair bouncing up and down as he skipped over to his pile of rocks. Curiously enough, a single flower bloomed next to it, five deep-red petals sprouting beautifully, filling the air with an intoxicatingly sweet scent. It was the only form of vegetation in the whole clearing, aside from the giant trees and verdant grass.

(Later that night the boy would show his drawing of it to his grandfather, and be met with half disappointment, half curiosity, by learning that the flower had no name, nor had it been sighted anywhere else before.)

He spent the day much like before: drawing, playing in the brook, napping under the giant canopies and the feather-light touches of the dancing cloud. At last, the time to leave had come, and just like the previous day, he left a little offering with sticks for the Mist, this time near the entrance to the tunnel.

---

And so the boy spent his summer. Everyday he would come to the clearing, no longer afraid of the once scary tunnel, and find a new crimson bloom near his offerings. He had learned that the Mist was somewhat sentient – the low rumble he had once thought to be the trees talking seemed to come from the Mist itself. It was almost imperceptible at first, but his curious child ears had become attuned to the quiet murmur.

The boy also learned that the Mist liked to hear him sing. Whenever he started to hum to himself, the swirling intensified, as if dancing along to his music. He couldn’t quite make out what they all meant, but his twinkling blue eyes began to recognise some of the swirling patterns as a language of sorts.

The summer turned into months, into years. The once young child, with colourful sketchpads and scrapped knees, his little heart full of wonder and joy, became a teenager - lanky, brooding, and lonely. Instead of drawings and sticks, he now carried black notebooks, full of poetry, of musings, of songs. Every holiday, and whenever he had a long weekend, he would make the trip to his grandparents’ house and to his secret garden.

Throughout the years, the clearing had become his safe place, a haven from all the pain he had had to endure. He liked to lay back on the grass, as he had so many times before as a kid, and sing to his heart’s content, while the Mist happily twirled around him.

He was certain the Mist could talk, too. Whenever he closed his eyes, now dark blue with hurt, eager to sink into the warm ground beneath him, he could feel it whisper in his ear. Sometimes it was loud and clear as day, others it would be little more than a quiet purr. It wasn’t any language he could recognise, much like the queer symbols and patterns he had now memorized, nimbly scribbled on the margins of his notebooks.

But he heard it all the same.

The Mist knew him like anyone else. In the clearing, he had the freedom to be himself fully. The boy had shared every joy, every pain, every heartbreak with it. And in return, the Mist would grace him with feather-like touches, with new swirling patterns, with long naps and vivid dreams; with bouts of inspiration, whenever his music felt inadequate.

And with flowers. Always those strange flowers, red as blood, and oh so very fragrant.

---

Time passed, and the boy was now a man.

He wasn’t quite sure why he was there. It had been years since he had last been in this clearing, real life catching up on him. He wasn’t even sure he would still be able to find it. The forest had considerably changed since the last time he had been there. The house in which he had once spent long summers in no longer existed.

It was silly, really. To seek comfort in what if felt like an imaginary friend. To run back to childhood safety once things had gone wrong.

Oh, and how they have gone wrong.

He stood there, expecting to see the crimson flowers and sparkling brook. To feel the soft grass beneath his feet once more. But the flowers were gone. The once gloriously green canopies loomed dry and brittle over him. All that remained were the little piles of rocks and sticks he had so carefully arranged many lifetimes ago. Gone was the lush grass and soft ground.

And gone was the Mist.

The man fell to his knees and wept. How did things get this way? How was he supposed to carry on living without a heart? Without her?

He sobbed himself to exhaustion, unconcerned about the impending night time, about his fate. Maybe it was for the best.

Oh child, we know that is not true. Why are you so distressed, my little one?

For the first time in years, the sweet fragrance of the red flowers enveloped him completely. His exposed skin prickled with emotion and fear – he had never heard the Mist this clearly before. Suddenly he was his teenage self again, longing to be embraced and understood by the one who knew him best.

“I’m truly alone now. And I don’t want to be. I’m tired.”

Oh, child.

The Mist chuckled, a low purr vibrating in the man’s chest. Their voice was unlike any other. It was wind, and water, and music combined. Somehow he knew to keep his eyes shut.

I can sense your pain. You don’t have to be alone anymore. I am here, am I not?

“I don’t even know if you are real. Maybe I have gone truly crazy. Clouds don’t talk.”

Humm. Such disbelief. I liked you better when you were young.

“What do you want from me?”

A rush of cold wind swept his blonde hair back. Every cell in his body was screaming to get away, and yet he was unable to move.

I can take your pain away. I can stay with you, make everything better. Would you like that?

“I… Who are you?”

Humm. Another chuckle.

You can call me Sleep.

#oh look at her being whimsical again lol #little vessel is very cute to me okay?#can you tell i so very desperately wanted to expand that ending? had to censor myself - this was NOT supposed to be long #ignore the use of the word adventure like 3 times in a row. i cant be bothered to edit further #sleep token #sleep token fanfiction #darya is unhinged

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curiositydooropened · 2 years

Note

Heyy amanda i looove your writing, your stories are so well thought-out and interesting. Could you maybe if you like the idea write about steve in s2, nancy is breaking up w him but he can't seem to stop thinking about reader. Hope you like the idea and get some inspiration❤️❤️🫡🥺

Hello, sweets! First of all, this message was sooo lovely! Thank you so much! As I reached the end of this little drabble, I worried I didn’t exactly fulfill your prompt, but I hope you still enjoy it! Thanks again for requesting!!!

Under the Sea

Steve is dreading prom season until he spots you, the one who’s always been there.

Wordcount: 1794

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff

---

Prom Season, that fortuitous time of year where normally orange and green concrete halls were painted in pastels and streamers. Christmas baubles dangling from the ceiling in strings with PTSD triggering Christmas lights that had Steve wishing his bat were in his backpack and not just the trunk of his car. A large Under the Sea banner denoted dates and locations - tickets could be purchased in the cafeteria during lunch for $5 a piece. Ballots for royalty could be found at the ticket tables.

Royalty. Steve blanched, tightening the strap of his backpack over one shoulder. Funny how the title of King could be swiped from a kid in a few short months. Prom King was all Steve ever wanted, all he ever strived to be. Now, he didn’t even have the title of championship winning point guard. Now, he didn’t even have the title of boyfriend. Now, the only regal title Steve Harrington could answer to was “World’s Best Babysitter”, and although he enjoyed ruffling the hair of those little shits, he wished more people than Mrs. Henderson would give a shit.

Maybe he’d have lunch on the field today, or in the woods. The cafeteria would be crawling with giddy girls and their dates, and the parking lot still stung of Nancy and Tommy and Carol always cat-called from nearby.

The bell rang indicating the start of fourth period, and Steve dipped sideways down a long hallway toward staff offices and the shining sun of midday in Spring.

Sneakers squeaking against linoleum, he grit his teeth past the coos and giggles of Martha Rhinestad and Emily Henberry, both of whom had turned him down for a date last weekend thanks to Dustin’s Pearl-filled grin-and-growl combo. Steve offered a friendly wave in passing, and both girls giggled once more, louder, brushing past him in a waft of bubblegum and hairspray. He turned to watch them walk away, lamenting the curves of their Levi’s and the fall of his reign.

When he turned back to the door outside, he ran smack into a figure who let out a remarkable yelp. Steve jumped, nearly smacking the intruder with his backpack until he saw you with hands held in surrender, hair tossed and a look of surprise etched across your features.

“Oh my God, Steve. Hi. Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Oh, hi. No, I’m sorry.” Steve scratched the back of his throat and made room for you to pass.

You. You who taught him how to tie his shoes in kindergarten, you who put a band-aid on his chin in the fourth grade when he cut it on the playground, you who took an attack-kiss with grace at Carol’s 14th birthday party even though it was practically assault.

“Where are you headed?” You smiled, glancing over your shoulder at the windowed door, which somehow felt less beckoning in your presence.

“Lunch,” he explained. “You?”

You tapped the tin box in your hand, which he hadn’t noticed until now. “Also lunch. I’m selling prom tickets.”

“Ah,” he nodded, that familiar ache filling his chest.

“Yeah, we better sell out this year, this Under the Sea theme is way more expensive than A Night to Remember, but student council insisted prom be different than last year’s, which I guess they’re right, but it’d be way less work for the planning committee. As if we aren’t getting ready for college.” You we’re rambling, face ducked into the tin box now clamped to your chest, and Steve felt a smile etch itself on his own face, a weak feeling he was getting to used to having again. “You’re going, right?”

He blinked back at you, the sweet and innocent look in your eye matched with the guilt of him not planning to go. He swallowed, remembered he had a couple bucks in his wallet. He could spare it for a prom ticket he wouldn’t use. “Oh yeah, of course. Thanks for reminding me.” It was worth it to see you smile.

“Walk with me?” You offered, and he spun for a third time to head beside you back down the hallway to the hell of pastel that was the cafeteria.

You and Steve fell into step, sneakers squeaking and change jingling against the tin in your arms, and he risked a glance at your face. You’d really grown up, pretty young thing turned into a young woman overnight. You’d mentioned college, talked like you were all grown up. You felt different from the kid that encouraged him to switch from a trike to a bicycle, and suddenly he realized you’d spent your lives together.

“So, how’ve you been? How’re classes this year?” You asked, catching his stare.

Steve sighed, dug his thumb between his bag strap and his shoulder. “Barely scraping by. Did you know chemistry sucks?”

You laughed, a sound he’d kill to pull from you again, and nodded. “Chemistry does suck. I took it last year.”

“Overachiever,” he mumbled under his breath, and he swelled when you caught the playful tone, elbowing his ribs.

“I was going to offer to help,” you continued. The joke of a past tense was not lost on him.

“Yeah?”

You shrugged. “You know I’m always here for you, Steve.”

There was something in your tone that had his stomach flipping, had him remembering the band-aid and the tiny moment in the dark of Tina’s yard during her Halloween party, after Nancy called him “bullshit” where you asked if he needed to talk. He thought of the moment during Thanksgiving break, where he tossed cranberry sauce into his grocery basket, and you asked about his double black eyes. You’d been the first person to approach him then, the first to talk to him for two whole weeks since he showed back up to school.

Before he had a chance to respond, the cafeteria door swung open to a cacophony of screaming teenagers and tossed paper airplanes. Lines formed with orange trays and slopped, well, slop. The nerds sat with the nerds, and Steve narrowly avoided the polo-wearing table of whispers as you approached the long line growing up to a double card table. Sissy Patterson sat behind it, shooting you a wave of relief upon your approach.

“See you up there,” you smiled and shimmied your way to pass out change and stack the growing wad of bills into your tin box. Your hair was shiny, and your smile bright.

“Steve?” The voice sent chills up his spine, and with a warm face, he turned to sweet, beautiful Nancy Wheeler.

“Hey, Nance,” he sighed, shoulders slumped in defeat. As though he thought he could hide in a room full of potential snipers.

“Hey,” she was awkward behind him, soft corners of her lips pinched in a signature Nancy polite smile. Far different from yours.

“You getting prom tickets?” He asked, though he’d prefer to not know the answer.

“Oh yeah. I mean, I’m serving punch and Jonathan’s taking photos so we don’t really need them, but Mom insisted. You know, for her scrapbook.”

Steve nodded. The famous Wheeler scrapbook, perpetually forgotten for gossipy phone lines and romance novels and Chardonnay. There were a fair few Polaroids of him taken for that scrapbook, including a handful from junior prom the year before.

“What about you? Are you getting prom tickets?” Steve didn’t think she meant it as surprised as it sounded, but it hurt nonetheless.

“Yup.” He popped the ‘p’ and took a step up to the wobbly table.

“Steve,” Sissy popped her bubblegum, shot him a glare. He’d stood her up for a date freshman year. He’d never be forgiven.

“Sissy,” he smiled. He fished into his pocket for cash and found ten dollars. And with Nancy looming behind him and you grinning up at him with those sparkly eyes, he blurted out. “Two tickets please.” More confident than he thought.

He noticed something in you then, the slightest slump of your shoulders, a lick of your lips as your smile softened. You took his cash and placed it neatly into the tin, and Sissy shoved two tickets into his hand.

“Here’s the royalty ballot,” you passed over a clipboard, avoiding his gaze, and his throat tightened in terrified anticipation.

“Oh that’s okay,” he shrugged it off as Nancy stepped up beside him to order her own tickets. When he glanced over, she was glancing between the two of you, eyebrows pinched.

“Steve,” you pressed. “Take the ballot. Trust me.” Your smile was soft, shy, but that sparkle went back into your eyes and sent something through him.

He took the clipboard and pen from your dainty fingers and glanced over the pastel artwork until he saw the neatly printed columns for King, Queen, Princes, and Princesses. Under the King category, he found Steve Harrington. It was the first name on the list. Right where he always wanted it to belong. He glanced over the clipboard where you were watching with an eager gaze, and he couldn’t help but smile, wide.

He checked his name and a few others, and before he even tried to look at Nancy’s votes over her shoulder, he took another step of bravery and said your name, actually yelled it a little. People at a nearby table stopped talking.

“Steve,” you chuckled, flashing a polite smile at those around.

“Do you have a date to prom?”

Again, that beautiful smile of yours faded, dwindled, diminished. You shook your head and avoided his gaze, taking change from the person elbowing past Nancy who seemed to be having an impossible time with her ballot.

“Great,” Steve grinned. “Would you go to prom with me?”

The lid to the tin box slammed closed. Nancy dropped her pen, it rolled between them. “What?”

“I’m asking you to be my prom date. I’ll get a cummerbund to match your dress, and I’ll buy you a corsage, and I’ll take you to dinner beforehand. Do you like Enzo’s?”

“Yes,” you were fighting off that smile now.

“Is that a yes to Enzo or to being my date?”

“Both, I guess.” You laughed, that pretty sound. He’d managed to pull it from you again.

“Perfect. Can we talk about it more after school?”

You shrugged, nodded, but he could tell you were pleased. You, who kissed his chin better, you who maybe enjoyed that kiss at Carol’s birthday, you who hooked your hand into his elbow after his breakup and told him everything was going to be alright.

He winked and turned around before he could catch the look of shock on Nancy’s face because honestly, he couldn’t even focus on Nancy when that smile played on his mind. He floated out of the cafeteria like a jellyfish, soft and light and hopeful.

#steve harrington fic #stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington request #fic request #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington drabble

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burning-academia-if · 9 months

Note

For the promt ask, 6, 20 and/or 27 with rook??? 🥺

Went with Rook + Coming Home!

“Ready to head out?” Rook leaned against your doorframe, taking stock of what little you had packed and the vague listlessness about you. Regardless of your feelings before, you’d gotten used to being away from home. Rook knew that well, could see it in the new found ease of your shoulders and smiles that were just a little less rare. Despite everything, you’d managed to breath, away from the house you’d grown up in.

“…Yeah. You?” You slung a backpack over your shoulder and take the handle of your suitcase.

Rook nodded once, biting his inner cheek, “Everything I need is in the car. Thank god we live in town, yeah?’

You were too distracted to respond right away. Granted, you usually weren’t much of a talker, but it felt especially pronounced today. Rook’s fingers tapped against the wood, waiting to see if you’d respond or not. You didn’t.

He went on, “You should stop by my place real quick. If you want. Dad’s been asking about you.”

The last time you’d seen his dad had been back in Senior year, probably. It had not stopped the man from asking Rook about you despite this. The suggestion finally dragged you out of your stupor and you blinked at him.

“Is that ok?”

“More like is that ok with you? He’s going to ask, like, a billion questions about how you’ve been and everything.” And, honestly, Rook could tell you weren’t quite ready to go back home. And, honestly, he was feeling off kilter about heading back as well. Even though his house was down the road, Rook had spent most of the semester pretending it hadn’t existed. He did that every semester. He probably fumbled his homecoming every time.

If he dragged you along, then the two of you could fumble it together.

As if reading his thoughts, you narrowed your eyes and he responded with a grin, “I don’t see the harm in a quick visit.”

“Great! I’ll let him know.” He pulled out his phone, and paused as he scrolled down to his dad. The last text was from a few weeks ago. It never felt that long. “I’ll meet you there—just follow me.”

“Ok.” You followed him out, and the two of you fought your way through the mass of students all heading out for winter break. Rook shouted goodbyes to the familiar faces he spotted as he went, and you kept your eyes towards the ground. The grip you had on your backpack strap was airtight.

At some point, the two of you had managed to make it down to the parking lot and head out. The drive was maybe ten minutes, but to him it was like he blinked and he was there. The house loomed over him, and he squinted up at it as he parked in the driveway. The windows were open downstairs, though Rook couldn’t see any movement inside.

He got out, grabbing his suitcase from the trunk, watching as you pulled in a moment later. Your movements were slow as you got out of the car, eyeing the house. When you caught his stare, he raised his eyebrows.

“You’re looking at this place like it’s haunted.”

You frown a little, “Are you really sure it’s fine.”

He rolled his eyes, “Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you my dad hates you for all the trouble you’ve gotten into, like how you set off a nuclear explosion in the next state over—”

If looks could kill, yours might have. At the very least, your listlessness was gone and replacing it was a renewed energy, “I get it.”

“Listen, dad has always liked you. It’s fine.” It’s fine. He breathes through his nose, and wonders if his own trepidation will ever leave him. He knows why he’s anxious every time he has to walk through those doors, but he still can’t admit it. But it’s fine. Really. You’re here this time, and your own nervous eyes making him feel better about his own nerves.

You trailed behind him, wandering gaze taking everything in. It all looked the same as ever to him. He shoved open the door, heat rushing out to greet him. He hadn’t even realized how cold it’d been.

“Dad?” Rook called, stepping inside. You followed a beat after, closing the door behind you.

His dad popped his head out, peering towards you both from the kitchen area. His smile was instant, a beam of bright light, “Rook, welcome home! And MC, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you.”

He strode over, engulfing Rook in a hug before he had a chance to protest. As he ruffled his hair, Rook scowled, “Hey, quit it—”

Rook smacked his hand away, but his dad had already moved on, throwing his arms around you in a hug as well. Your eyes went wide in panic, darting over to him, and Rook only smirked.

“Uh, hi Mr. Bellerose—”

“That’s so formal. Just call me Harvey.” His dad motioned vaguely towards the house. “Come in, don’t mind me.”

You hesitated briefly, and Rook said, “I’m going to put my stuff in my room real quick.”

He gave a smile of innocence at your look and ducked away. His father started polite conversation immediately, and he had to stop himself from laughing. Your stilted words became quiet as he made it to the second floor and to his room.

Everything was the same. His dad might have had a few more greys then before and when he opened his room there was a fine layer of dust on everything, but it was the same. He threw his suitcase to the side and let himself collapse on the bed for a moment. Rubbed his face. Stared up at the ceiling and counted to ten.

You wouldn’t appreciate him leaving you for so long. It didn’t stop him from taking an extra ten seconds, wondering if everyone felt this way when they came back to a place after so long.

When he finally managed to bring himself back down, his dad had you seated at the counter, a glass of water at hand and a steady stream of conversation going on with great effort. You glanced up, a plea of help in your eyes. Rook could only take pity on you.

“So how have things been?” Rook asked, slipping into the barstool next to you.

“Work’s been the same as ever. How were your finals?”

“They happened. Anyways—” It was easy, when they slipped into conversation with each other. The unfamiliarity was cleared away, and even your shoulders started to relax as old memories and habits came back to you.

His body finally remembered it was safe. His dad’s eyes were as kind as ever, “It’s nice to see you two are still friends.”

Rook blinked, “Yeah? Obviously.”

A flash of sadness moved through his expression, but it was too quick for him to read, “I’ve never gotten to say this to you, but I’ve always been glad you became friends with my son.”

“O-oh, um…” You shifted in your seat, breaking eye contact.

“Dad!”

“It’s true. Rook always seemed most at ease when he mentioned you—”

Your eyebrows shot up and Rook knew he was going to get it later, “Obviously, they’re my best friend and we’ve known each other for years.

“Yeah,” you nodded your agreement, mercifully, but you were still eyeing him and his dad was smiling again and he suddenly felt very warm in a way he wasn’t sure he liked. But yet, it wasn’t bad.

As the conversation turned again, and his dad started to get distracted with other things, you nudged his foot with yours and when he looked, he found you smiling the first time that day. It was teasing, and mouthed the words his dad had said before and Rook rolled his eyes.

And not for the first time, he thought of this. How coming home had always included you, and how maybe he could ease your own tension if he stayed by your side. If you became part of his childhood home, or if he could ward you from the horrors of your own.

If he could always come back to you, or bottle the warmth of a house with you in it forever.

#em answers #ch: rook #christmas special #unedited

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