#if these signs are on a new road in an open field | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pathetichimbos · 1 year

Note

Hii! May I request Thomas Hewitt overhearing reader talk with her friends and saying that she came across this very cute guy whom she smiled at when they accidently made eye contact? (The guy is, of course, Tommy <3) And maybe Tommy spares her afterwards and decides to hide her away so that Hoyt doesn't order him to turn her into a human stew-

Thank you!

You're Mine

Includes: Thomas Hewitt / F!Reader

SFW

TW: Hoyt is a creep again / Very very slight Yandere!Thomas

...

Thank you for sending in this ask! Sorry for the long wait time and I hope you enjoy!

The cool wind rushed across your face, whipping around your body and sweeping through your hair as you leaned back on your own hands.

Your eyes stared up to the bright blue sky, a few tuffs of cloud floating idly through the giant blue mass as you sped down the highway, your best friend behind the wheel.

You were sat in the passenger seat, feet planted on the dashboard as the radio blasted loudly enough to try and rival the open hood of the convertible.

Carly was screaming along to the music, open beer in hand as she swung around her seat behind you, loud laughter repeatedly breaking up her own singing.

Brooke was singing as well, pausing often to puff on the cigarette stuck in her left hand, the smoke immediately obliterating in the harsh winds as soon as it left her lungs.

You three had been on the road for two and a half hours, not even making it a quarter a way through your trip. Time was dragging on as Brooke sped past the desolate Texas fields, pushing well past the speed limits.

Carly's laughing suddenly dies down as she leaned past the front seat, turning the radio down to match her new tone.

“Hey, look! There's a gas station up ahead!” She pointed at the large red sign standing prominently on the side of the road, the faded red and white paint being about the only thing you can register about it as you quickly pass it.

“Oh, perfect, we're almost out.” Brooke sighed, flicking her cigarette butt to the road.

“I told you to fill up before we left!” You furrowed your brows as you looked your friend up and down, “We sat at that first place for twenty minutes, what gives?”

“Not the cute cashier, that's for sure.” Carly giggled as she wrapped her arms around your neck and leaned her chin on the seat, “You know how our Brooke is, always the romantic.”

You rolled your eyes and playfully nudged her, “Oh, like you're one to talk. Didn't you tell Freddy and Taylor you'd go out with them next week?”

“But I've got taste,” She insisted, “My men have to have culture. I don't just go for the first cute gas station clerk that comes my way.”

“Oh, get real, Carls,” Brooke scoffed, “The only 'culture' Taylor has is whatever's growing on his dick after sleeping his way through the entire town.”

Their smiles were wide as they continued to poke playful fun at each other, filling the few minutes it took to find the gas station with conversation and laughter.

The station wasn't anything fancy, no one in sight as the three of you parked next to one of the only two gas pumps out front.

The building was old and small, the white paint faded and chipping off the sides from the apparent decades it spent under the relentless Texas sun.

The glass door was smudged and unclean, the pumps rusted and stained, and the air was filled with the red dust Brooke's car had stirred up from driving through the dirt that laid out in front of it.

You couldn't help but think of how perfect this scene would be in a horror movie.

“Here.” Brooke dug a ten out of her small pink purse, shoving it your way.

“Why do I gotta go into the creepy old gas station?” You frowned, still taking the bill.

“Because I'm pumping the gas and Carly's already drank so much she's about to piss herself.”

You turned back to see Carly had already evacuated the back seat, hurrying off to look for the bathrooms.

You sighed and gave in, stepping out of the car and taking the opportunity to stretch as you made the short walk to the front door.

The metal was hot as you swung the door open, the creaky hinges screaming out as the heavy, rancid smell of old meat swept through your nose.

You couldn't help but cringe a little, nose scrunching and feet faltering at the old pig set inside the glass counter of the small deli to your left.

You brushed it off and stepped up to the counter to your right, greeting the older woman with a smile as she puffed on her cigarette.

She looked you up and down, a slight scowl on her face as she nodded at you.

“I need ten on, uh...” You glanced back through the door, “...The pump that's closest to the door.”

“Ain't got no gas.” She deadpanned, leaning on the counter with one hand as she looked down to the ten you had sent on the counter.

Your heart dropped and you sighed, crumbling the bill in your hand, “Is there another gas station around here?”

“Not for another fifty miles.”

“I don't know if we can make it that far. Do you know when you might get some more gas?”

“'Fraid those pumps haven't worked for the better part of five years.”

You let out a huff and chewed your bottom lip, “I- I don't, uh... I don't suppose you have any idea of what we could do?”

She let out a long sigh through her nose and rubbed the butt of her cigarette into the ash tray, “I can call the sheriff. I'm sure he won't mind taking you to the nearest station.” She punctuated her sentence by looking you up and down once again.

That implication made you more than a little uncomfortable, but knowing Carly and Brooke were with you was enough of a comfort let her call the man.

The lady turned to the phone behind her, spinning the dial as you tapped your foot impatiently.

You were looking around the station, taking in the old, dusty atmosphere as you waited for the sheriff to pick up on his end.

Flies buzzed, darting around the room as the dull lights flickered in the empty display fridge across the store, a couple of old wooden tables and matching chairs filling the space between it and the shelves.

A small radio sat stiff and silent on the table behind the counter, right beside the phone the lady was speaking into.

“Sure you ain't. And I don't know, only one of 'em came in.”

You balanced on the balls of your feet for a moment, letting out a short sigh as you finally tuned into the one side of the conversation you could hear.

“Watch your tone, boy.” Her voice was threatening as she pulled the phone away from her ear, “How many of y'all are there?”

Your brows furrowed as you stopped for a moment.

It was a bit of a strange question, but you supposed that he would need to know how many people he'd be driving, so you brushed it off and gave her an answer.

“Three, including me.”

“There's three of 'em.” She didn't acknowledge your answer as she continued speaking on the phone.

You pursed your lips as the faint sound of a loud man drifted from the phone, but you had no idea what the hell he could be saying.

“If you say so. I'll see you in a bit.” She finally responded before hanging up the phone and turning to you, “He says it'll be about five minutes.”

Hope blossomed in your chest as you thanked her profusely, “I'll go tell my friends.”

She didn't say anything as you hurried out the door, meeting Brooke and Carly at the car.

“The pump ain't workin', Y/N. What gives?” Brooke was repeatedly pulling the trigger as the pump sat in her gas tank.

“She said they don't have no gas, and the next station ain't for another fifty miles.”

“Oh, what the hell...” Carly groaned from the backseat where she had been laying out, sunglasses protecting her eyes from the harsh light.

“Don't worry, she called the sheriff and he's gonna come give us a ride!” You explained, climbing back into the passenger seat, “She said it'll only be five minutes.”

Brooke huffed as she put the pump back in place before climbing into the drivers seat, “Just our luck, eh?”

Carly shot up, beaming, “It could be! I bet the sheriff is an absolute hottie.”

You snickered, “In a place like this? He's probably a hundred years old!”

“Hey, Carly likes the gray foxes.” Brooke smirked, leaning back on her seat to face the two of you.

“Oh, sick.” She made a gagging face and grabbed her throat, “You are a freak, Brooke!”

“There's nothing wrong with an older guy!” You defended the idea, “They're more mature.”

“Oh, so you're the freak.” Brooke laughed, “It would be you, you've always been a weirdo.”

“True! Remember when we went to that haunted trail a few years ago and she hooked up with one of the zombies!?” Carly pointed out, making you groan.

“Don't remind me. He was such a clinger, I practically had to fake my own death to get him off my leg.”

The conversation continued flowing easily, as it always did between you three.

Before you knew it, the loud slamming of a car door caught your attention and halted your conversation as the three of you looked ahead to the sheriff's car parked some feet ahead of your car.

And older man began walking from the driver side, graying and white hair, a matching, thin, goatee stained by the dip he haphazardly spit to the ground.

“Oh, nasty.” Carly whispered, pulling a face, “He really is old.”

“Don't say that!” Brooke nudged her with her elbow before gesturing to you, “You'll give the old home's heartbreaker here a boner.”

You gently slapped her shoulder, “Shut it, he's coming this way.”

“Who's that in the passenger seat?” Carly asked no one in particular, sitting up further to get a closer look.

“Well, howdy there, ladies. What brings you to this little slice of paradise?” The sheriff drawled, a creepy smirk on his face as he finished crossing the path to Brooke's door, leaning a little too close for comfort.

“Just passing through, sir.” Brooke gave a tight smile, leaning back a little, “Ending up running out of gas.”\

He tsk'd a little, shaking his head, “Well, that just won't do, will it?”

You tried your best not to pull a face as your attention turned back to the sheriff's car, hearing the passenger door finally open and close.

Out stepped a man, much much different from the first person to emerge.

He was tall, towering over the car as he shuffled in place, head hanging low as his eyes stayed trained on the sheriff.

His long, black curls brushed against his shoulders, and seemed to be held down by the homemade mask covering his face, though you couldn't see any finer details from here.

He wore an old, dirty dress shirt, and black slacks to match, almost as if he were in his Sunday best, despite the stains and wrinkles adorning his clothes.

As you stared he seemed to notice, eyes darting to focus on you.

A deep heat flooded your cheeks as you flashed an awkward smile before shrinking into your seat, and mostly out of his line of sight. Staying up just enough to peek back out at him often.

“Oh, don't worry about it.” You tuned back into the sheriff, flashing his stained teeth as he finally stood straight again, “I'll just go in there and tell Mama to keep an eye on your stuff and then I'll take care of y'all.”

You could practically feel Carly shuddering as he stalked off towards the gas station directly across from your car.

“Thomas!” The man yelled as he reached the doorway, and you watched as he motioned the second man over before whispering something to him none of you could hear.

Assuming he was going back into the gas station, you turned back to your friends, who seemed to be avoiding looking at the gas station all together, thanks to the creepy sheriff.

“What a fuckin' sicko!” Brooke shuddered, “I don't want to go anywhere with him!”

Carly nodded, making a sick face, “Did you see the way he kept staring at our boobs? I don't trust him!”

“Who gives a shit what you guys are talking about.” You loudly interrupted their quiet complaints, “Did you see that second guy!?”

They both shook their heads, having been too focused on the creepy advances of the sheriff.

“Oh my god.” You groaned, running your hands down your face, “He was so fucking cute. I'm talking tall, dark, brooding, absolutely huge build. Guy looked like he lifts in his sleep.”

“Uh, you mean that guy, right there by the door, who can absolutely hear your bat shit talk?” Carly pointed to the man, who was standing a few feet away, completely avoiding looking at the car now.

You face dropped and you slunk into the seat, practically screaming, “NO, oh my god he must think I'm such a freak.”

“Um, you kind of are.” Brooke leaned down and whispered, “He's not that cute.”

“You are so stupid.” You let out a sigh, “That man looks like what every man wants to be.”

“Well, maybe he didn't hear you.” Carly offered a small smile, “Even though he definitely did.”

“Fuck.”

“Go talk to him.” Brooke nudged you.

“No way! I'm not looking to embarrass myself even more!”

“It's too late anyways.” Carly reluctantly gestured to the sheriff who was now returning.

Brooke rolled her eyes as she turned to climb out of the car, “Come on, girls.”

You sighed as you followed suit, Carly not far behind.

Brooke was the first to make her way to the sheriff's car, opting for the backseat, much to your and Carly's dismay.

Not even giving you a chance, Carly darted ahead, loudly announcing, “I'll sit with you, Brooke!”

You groaned, knowing it would be rude to try and insist to sit in the back as well.

You glanced back to the station door, noticing Thomas was coming over too. You sighed this time, hoping that he'd take the front seat, as he seemed to know the sheriff better.

But before that even became an option, you heard the loud protest of Brooke and Carly as they pulled faces at the open back door.

“There's stuff all over the backseat! We can't even fit.” Carly pointed out.

“Oh, yea.” The sheriff mused, “Well, c'mon then. Start grabbing stuff, we'll throw it in the trunk.”

He opened the trunk and your friends gave you looks as they started grabbing armfuls of various things crowding the backseat.

You finished walking to the car, planning on helping but walking slow so there hopefully wouldn't be anything left for you to grab.

Thomas was only a few steps behind you, watching as you stood beside the open back door, waiting on your friends.

His hands twitched, and his mind was torn.

His entire life he was ridiculed and bullied.

If not for his deformities and looks, than for his lack of education and inability to fully understand and control his emotions.

When people looked at him, they saw a monster. A freak.

But... You didn't.

You, a complete stranger, if even just for a minute, thought he was cute.

Cute enough to tell your friends and feel embarrassed by his opinion.

You treated him like a normal person, for a brief moment.

And he was hooked.

He craved more, more of that feeling. To have someone look at him like he was normal, like he was more than just a deformed monster hiding behind a mask.

He wanted to get your attention again, to selfishly hear your sweet voice say more kind things, things that no one had ever said before.

He stared holes into the back of your head, trying to will you to give him just a little more of your attention.

He thought you were beautiful too, and he wondered if you knew.

Could you tell, with the way he stared every chance he got?

God, he didn't even now your name, but he needed to. He would do anything to learn more about you, to keep you close and safe.

He was so lost in his own thoughts and emotions he didn't even notice how severe the situation had gotten between the sheriff and your friends until you darted forward.

Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous. His mind screamed, his hand shooting out to stop you.

The skin of your wrist was so soft compared to his calloused hands, he never wanted to let go.

He wondered if the rest of you was just as soft.

Your confused eyes flickered back to his own, questioning him without any words being spoken.

He shook his head, tightening his grip just enough to get his message across without hurting you.

You were his now. And he would give his life to protect you.

#slasher fandom #slashers #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x s/o #thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt x reader #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x y/n #Jamie Writes

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vivwritesfics · 2 months

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COMING AT YOU WITH A SOFT BOY RHETT!

He’s working on his ranch when a horse comes onto his land and it’s fully tacked but there is no signs of the rider. It’s spooked but he manages to calm it down and catch it. He’s tacks up his own horse and goes on the search for the missing rider! - nurse-sainz 🥰🥰🥰

I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS SOOOOOOOOOOOOO FUCKING MUCH

Rhett x english rider omg

Rhett Abbott sleeping in his truck was nothing new. He was usually sleeping off a hangover, and that morning was no different. He knew he had chores to do, which might have been why he slept in his truck. Waking up when the run rose (well, that was the goal, but it wasn't always the result).

Today, as with most days, Rhett didn't wake up because of the sun. You'd think he'd be used to the sound of horses, after living on a ranch for his entire life.

But this, this was different. The horses that his father had trained, they didn't stampede towards the house like that. They had been taught better than to come to the house.

Rhette sat up, grabbed the Stetson hat covering his face, and looked out of the truck windows. "Shit," he muttered as he pulled on his shirt, covering up his bull rider tattoo. He placed his Stetson on his head and climbed out of the truck.

There he was, a pretty white horse with a dappling of grey spots on his ass. He was fully tacked up, wearing a saddle, a bridle, and some fancy ass boots around his legs. The mane was plaited, along with the tail.

"Woah there," he said as he approached the horse. Since cantering towards the Abbott house he had stopped to much on the grass. He raised his head towards Rhett, who held his hands up as he approached.

His eye ears went back and he let out a snort. Rhett slowed his steps. He reached his large hand towards the reins. But he couldn't get close enough, not without the horse rearing up. "Little shit," Rhett found himself muttering.

As the horse cantered to the back of the house, Rhett moved his truck, blocking the horse in. He climbed out of his truck and made his way around to the horse that definitely didn't belong here.

As he walked around to the back of the house, the kitchen window opened. "Who's horse is that?" His mother asked.

Rhett shrugged his shoulders. He hadn't seen it before, didn't know there was anything other than cowboys riding around Wabang. He certainly hadn't seen this fancy looking thing in the show jumping saddle.

When Rhett asked his mother for a carrot, she happily handed his over. As soon as Rhett had the carrot, it was easy enough to grab the horse. He was far more interested in the carrot than running away from Rhett. "Who are you?" Rhett asked as he held the reins and stroked down his face.

For a total of five minutes he put the grey horse in the barn while he grabbed his own. As soon as he was mounted, he grabbed the grey ponies reins and rode off.

Rhett was a cowboy. Rhett liked going fast. Rhett's horse was used to galloping across the field until they were out onto the rode. The grey horse was making it near impossible. He stayed at a stubborn walk when Rhett trotted off, stretching his neck out until Rhett could get no further away.

So, Rhett was stuck at a slow walk as he made his way around, looking for anybody that was missing a horse. Most of the usual cowboys, most of the usual other ranch owners, laughed when they saw the fancy pony following him.

Rhett let out a sigh as he began riding along the road towards the Abbott Ranch.

"Sparrow!"

Suddenly, the grey horse was pulling against him. Rhett didn't let go, though. He turned himself around to see a girl. She had a black hat on her head, but not like his Stetson. That one was for safety. Long, shiny black boots were on her feet and she wore these tight, black Jodhpurs.

Definitely not a cowgirl.

She ran over and grabbed a hold of the reins. "Oh, you are in so much trouble," she said and kissed the horses face. "Sparrow, I swear. You gave me a heart attack!" She pulled the hat from her head and tucked it beneath her arm as she kissed the pony a couple more times.

And then she turned to Rhett. He didn't recognise her, not at all. But her face twisted in confusion. "Rhett?" She asked. "Rhett Abbott?"

"Uh, yeah," he said, adjusting his Stetson on his head. "And you are?"

She held out her hand towards him and gave her his name. Rhett shook it. "I've seen you at the rodeo a few times," she said. "I... thank you for finding Sparrow. I thought he was ready to go out alone, but I think somebody needs a little more training," she said and released his hand.

Rhett swallowed. "I think he found me," he answered.

Immediately, her face dropped. "He... he broke onto your ranch?" She asked and Rhett couldn't help but grin as he nodded. "Shit, I'm so sorry!" She cried. "Let me know how I can make it up to you."

Rhett couldn't deny that she was cute. Not his usual type, not the usual cowgirls he had wearing his Stetson and riding his cock. Well, Rhett wanted to know more. "You can let me take you out f' a drink," he said, leaning forward.

He watched as she placed her foot in the metal stirrup (incredibly different from the one his foot was placed into), and climbed up into the saddle. Immediately, Sparrow was moving. He walked in an agitated circle as she tried to stay looking at Rhett. "So, if I want to find you, Sparrow should know where to go?"

"An' you can give me your number. Y'know, in case he forgets."

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott fluff #rhett abbott oneshot #rhett abbott x you #outer range #outer range imagine #outer range x reader #outer ranger fluff #outer range x you #lewis pullman #lewis pullman imagine #lewis pullman x reader

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allwaswell16 · 3 months

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A One Direction fic rec of fics where at least one of the main characters has trust issues as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

🌊 Love After the End of the World by @mercurial-madhouse

(E, 162k, dystopian) When staying alive is already a constant battle, the deadliest weakness is to be in love. For Harry and Louis, finding each other sits on top of the endless list of What Else Could Go Wrong.

🌊 Saving Symphony Hall by @helloamhere

(E, 124k, omegaverse) “That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”

🌊 And What If I Were You by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom

(E, 109k, famous/not famous) For Louis, will losing his sight give him the clarity to realise what is right in front of him? For Harry, will losing the love of his life give him the strength to finally open his heart? And can they find their way back, before they lose each other forever?

🌊 Say Something by @kingsofeverything

(E, 105k, age difference) At fifty years old and recently divorced, Omega Harry Styles isn't interested in dating. When his doctor suggests a heat and rut matching service, he signs up out of necessity. It’s the only use he has for an Alpha in his life.

🌊 Emperor's New Clothes by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships

(E, 92k, famous/not famous) Harry’s a pop star and Louis isn’t, and there’s a non-disclosure agreement where there used to be a relationship.

🌊 One More Taste of Your Lips by @canadianlarrie, MsHydeStylinson / @mizzhydes

(E, 80k, canon) It had been eight years since the hiatus began, and Louis had spent that time writing and recording music, touring and making it safely through the pandemic. When the opportunity arose to go back on tour with One Direction, Louis knew he'd be a fool not to take it.

🌊 I Walk the Line by Awriterwrites / @a-writerwrites

(E, 55k, uni) Professor Louis Tomlinson is the leading researcher in his field. Harry Styles is Louis’ recently hired grad assistant. Sparks fly between them but something doesn’t add up when it comes to Harry, and Louis is determined to find out what.

🌊 where the lights are beautiful (series) by twoshipsdrifting / @polkadotlou

(E, 48k, omegaverse) the accidental bonding a/b/o fic.

🌊 To Be Loved and To Be In Love by RealName

(M, 34k, First Dates au) Louis Tomlinson is a thirty-year-old divorcee whose friends have signed him up for the Channel 4 show First Dates. Harry Styles is a twenty-eight-year-old lawyer who has never been in a long-term relationship.

🌊 Compass to my Soul by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(T, 31k, omegaverse) Louis Tomlinson, omega, is 1/5 of world famous boy band One Direction. He spends his time hoping his bandmates don’t notice him.

🌊 A Road To Something Better by @taggiecb

(E, 25k, small town) Louis Tomlinson, famous romance novelist, has just had the rug pulled out from under his feet when his boyfriend leaves him without notice. What's the most appropriate response to this? Move a thousand miles away and seclude himself in a tiny lake town, of course.

🌊 I Don't Wanna Fall Asleep by therogueskimo / @bravetemptation

(NR, 23k, exes) AU where Harry has trouble sleeping unless he’s wrapped in Louis’ arms. Louis left him 4 years ago.

🌊 let your lights shine by hazkaban

(M, 22k, football) AU where Louis is a faded professional footballer (soccer player) whose career is nearly ruined by an injury. Harry's his physiotherapist.

🌊 Might’ve Took The Long Way by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove

(M, 21k, exes to lovers) Now Harry is back in town, and no matter how many times Louis tells himself they can’t be together, they keep falling right back into each other.

🌊 He Was a Different League (When I Was Nothing Much) by @afangirlfantasy

(NR, 21k, Marcel) an AU where finding that 'someone new' actually leads to finding that 'someone old,' and Marcel is painfully oblivious.

🌊 A Small Matter (A Matter of Trust) by @kingsofeverything

(E, 18k, tiny penis fic) Harry knows he and his Grindr hookup would be perfect together, if only he could convince him to give a relationship a chance.

🌊 Once The Dark Divides by zanni_scaramouche / @zanniscaramouche

(E, 14k, bdsm) Louis finds out his childhood best friend is a Dom and somehow convinces him it's a good idea to learn about the world of kink with a hands on lesson

🌊 A Silver Lining In A Storm (You Were Lightning, I Was Born) by @fallinglikethis

(E, 6k, omegaverse) after the death of his first fiancé, a man who turned out far worse than Harry thought possible, his subsequent marriage to the man's brother leaves Harry finding it difficult to trust that everything will work out.

- Rare Pairs -

🌊 Bloom by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

(T, 28k, Louis/Liam) In early 1970s Oxford, Detective Sergeant Louis Tomlinson has to deal with the dual pressures of a case that hits too close to home, and the arrival of new colleague Liam Payne.

🌊 One by @allwaswell16

(E, 4k, Louis/Tommy Shelby) When omega Louis Tomlinson becomes pregnant after an unexpected encounter, he decides his only option is to flee his pack. But Tommy Shelby, pack alpha of the Peaky Blinders, might not be willing to let him go so easily.

🌊 When We Hold On (To the Past) by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf

(E, 3k, Zayn/Louis) Zayn could drop the subject and keep fucking him, keep the strings from getting attached, pretend that they weren’t getting closer than Louis was comfortable with. Or Zayn could choose the opposite path—which he did.

#ficrec #1dficvillage #trackinghome #trackinghappily #hlcreators #ficsfor4am

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allthelovehes · 2 months

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Field Day Reunion

Summary: Harry agrees to volunteer at his son's school and he is surprised to see the teacher is his long-lost high school girlfriend.

Pairing: Singledad!Harry x Teacher!Y/N

Word count: 3.2K

Warnings: None, this is pure fluff.

Taglist: @justmystyles @bitchybabyharry @harrysslut7 @swiftmendeshoran @lucasandharold @harrysbabycherry @htaylor18 @rose-garden-dreamz @myalovesharry @mellamolayla @hsonlyangelxo @yousunshineyoutempter @heartateasee @blueheisenbergtragedy @bikestyles @bohemianrhapsody86 Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! 🤗

Support my work by joining my Patreon!

A/N: Just a fluffy little one shot about Harry reuniting with his high school lover. Let me know if you want a part two because I can totally see that happening!

As Charlie comes home from school with a piece of paper in hand, asking for volunteers to visit a local farm, Harry is eager to sign up. His 4-year-old is currently learning all about farm animals, so it seems like the perfect opportunity to see his enthusiasm first-hand.

Harry is a single parent to Charlie, and while parenthood is far from easy, he's found himself becoming an avid learner in the art of parenting as his son is growing up. The last year especially, since his girlfriend had left them both in the dust and moved away.

But while Harry's been focused on his son and their life at home, Charlie's growing up and becoming his own little person. He's also learning more about the world and how people fit into it, and Harry thinks that volunteering at his school is a perfect example of that.

And so, Harry fills out the permission slip and sends it back to Charlie's teacher.

Charlie is very excited when Harry tells him about the trip, and even though he's still very young, Harry can tell he's already forming his own ideas about the kind of person he wants to be. And that means the world to Harry. It's one thing for him to shape his son, but he's determined to give Charlie a voice, as well.

Later that week, Charlie is sent home from school with another letter. One that explains how the class will be visiting the farm, what the schedule will be like and what exactly they need help with from the volunteering parents. With this insight, Harry has a much better understanding of the day, and can teach Charlie about things he might see. Teaching him new words and showing him the pictures in the books that Harry has at home.

On the morning of the trip, Charlie is a bundle of excited nerves. He's practically vibrating as Harry helps him get dressed, and when Harry makes sure he's got his raincoat, he almost bursts.

“It's not going to rain, daddy.”

“Oh yeah? Then what's that.” Harry asks, pointing out the window where the clouds are hanging low and grey.

“It's not gonna rain” Charlie states again. “Promise” Harry huffs out a laugh because of course, the boy is going to be stubborn today

“Okay, little man. We'll see.” As they get ready to leave, Harry puts a light jacket on and grabs an umbrella. When Charlie notices, he pouts, making his father chuckle.

Harry is supposed to drive to school first so a few more kids can fit in the car, and then drive them all to the farm together. Charlie is excited to sit in the front, which gives him a perfect view of the sky and a chance to show Harry how wrong he is.

He's quiet for a while, just staring out the window, but Harry doesn't pay too much attention. He's too focused on the road and making sure the other kids are safe. But soon, the clouds part and the sun shines through.

“See? Told ya.” Charlie grins. Harry hums and nods.

“I suppose you did.”

Harry parks his car on the school grounds. They walk towards Charlie's classroom and when the door opens, Harry sees a young woman standing in the middle of the room, facing away from him. If he remembers correctly, his son's teacher used to be in her fifties, so who is this woman?

“Char? Did you get a new teacher” Harry asks his son as he puts his coat away, but Charlie shrugs.

“No. Miss Green is gone. This is Miss Y/L/N.” Charlie answers, pointing to the woman. At the sound of his son's voice, she turns around and Harry can finally see her face. She locks eyes with him and it feels like time stops.

“Y/N” Harry asks confused, his heart beating faster. She looks exactly the same as she did all those years ago, the only difference being the hair length and a few laugh lines on her face.

“Harry. Hi. Um... I wasn't expecting to see you here.” She says. Her voice sounds a little strained.

“Well, I wasn't expecting to see you either.” Harry chuckles. “How... are you? I didn't know you were a teacher.”

“Oh, I just started this year. And I'm doing great. How are you?” She smiles. It's a little awkward, but it's real.

“Good, good.” He smiles back, scratching the back of his neck. Y/N used to be his girlfriend in high school, until they broke up because of college. They've only seen each other a couple of times since then, mostly when their paths crossed in their hometown. He always knew he loved her, but as they grew older, the distance between them had grown too, and now they're basically strangers.

“Daddy, are you okay?” Charlie tugs on his jacket, looking up at him. Harry blinks and shakes his head a little.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm good, little man.” Harry says and runs a hand through his son's curls.

“Daddy?” Y/N asks, sounding amused. Harry can feel the blush spreading on his cheeks.

“Uh, yeah. Charlie is my son.” He tells her, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder.

“He's a lucky kid to have you, Harry.” Y/N smiles, and for a second, he's a teenage boy again, completely infatuated with her.

“Thank you.” Harry clears his throat.

“Are you ready to go to the farm, Charlie?” She asks, kneeling in front of the boy.

“Yep! Can we see the horses?” He asks excitedly, jumping a little. Y/N giggles.

“There aren't going to be any horses on the farm we're going to today, but I'm sure we can find a different animal. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Harry is a bit distracted for the rest of the day, and Y/N's eyes keep meeting his over the children's heads, making him blush and smile. He can't believe she's back in his life, and a teacher no less. He really hopes he'll see her more often, now that his boy is in her class.

“Okay kids, gather 'round!” Y/N calls as she stands in front of the pigpen. Charlie and his friends hurry over, giggling and talking excitedly. “Can you all say 'hello' to the pigs?” The children repeat her words, and she gives them all a warm smile. “Great job! Now, if you all take a step closer, you'll be able to pet the pigs. Remember to be gentle, okay?”

Harry can't believe his ears. Y/N was never a fan of animals, especially when they were close to her. Yet here she is, standing in the middle of the mud, smiling and laughing. It warms his heart to see her so fond of the kids.

As the kids pet the pigs, Harry steps next to Y/N, who smiles and waves.

“This is incredible, Y/N. I can't believe you're doing this.” Harry laughs.

“Yeah, it was a little weird at first, but the kids seem to love it. It's nice to see them all together and have fun.” She admits. “And it's also a great learning experience.”

“It really is. I don't think Charlie will be able to talk about anything else but pigs for the next few days.”

“It's great though, isn't it? Their little minds are constantly absorbing information and figuring out how the world works.”

“Yeah.” Harry smiles and nods, looking at his son, who's happily petting the pig with a huge smile on his face.

“Okay guys, I think it's time for lunch. Can we all thank the pigs?” She calls and the kids cheer.

“Thank you, pig.”

“Thank you, piggy!”

“Thanks, pig.”

They all wave at the pig and walk towards the picnic area, where a couple of parents are setting up the food. Y/N instructs the kids to wash their hands, and they all run to the bathrooms. Harry joins her, and they fall into a comfortable silence as they wait for the children.

“I'm really happy to see you again, Harry.” She admits, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

“Me too, Y/N. It's been a long time.” He nods.

“Yeah.” She says, but doesn't elaborate. There's so much Harry wants to say to her, but the kids are coming back and he knows it's not the right time. He'll just have to find another opportunity.

Lunch is a fun affair, filled with laughter and the occasional mess. Afterwards, the kids play in the meadow for a while before heading back to the farm building.

“Okay, let's all sit down on the floor and I'll tell you a story about the farm.” Y/N instructs, and the kids all follow her. Harry sits with the parents, keeping an eye on his son and watching the woman he used to love.

Y/N talks to the kids about how the farm started, who built it, and what happened over the years. She has a way with words, and the children are hanging on to every word she says. After the story, they head over to the goat pen and watch as the baby goats jump around, chasing each other and bleating.

“Daddy, can we get a goat?” Charlie asks.

“Maybe, buddy. But I don't think we'd have a place to keep one.” Harry replies.

“Aww, but it's so cute.” Charlie whines, and Y/N can't help but chuckle as she picks up on their conversation.

“It is very cute. But maybe you can come here and see the goats, instead.” She suggests. Charlie nods and smiles, he walks back to the adorable creatures.

“Thanks, you just saved me there.” Harry laughs.

“Don't mention it. I'm glad I could help.”

“So, um... Charlie's mom. How's she doing?” Y/N asks, and he can see the hesitation on her face.

“Oh. She's fine, I think. We haven't seen each other since she left.” Harry answers.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to pry. I was just curious.” She says, wringing her hands together.

“No, no, it's okay. I just didn't expect it.”

“Oh. Well, that's good.”

“Yeah.” He smiles. They look at each other for a moment before someone calls for Y/N, and they're pulled out of the moment.

The rest of the day passes quickly. There are many games and activities for the kids to try out, and lots of running around and laughing. Charlie is completely worn out when it's time to go, and he falls asleep in the car.

When Harry pulls up to the school, he lets the other kids out of his car so they can go home but makes sure to let Charlie have his nap.

“Thanks, Harry.” Y/N says as she walks up to him.

“For what?” He asks.

“For being such a great dad and helping me out. I had a lot of fun today.” She explains, smiling at him.

“Anytime, Y/N.” He replies, giving her a small smile back. They look at each other for a while, both hesitant.

“Well, I better get going. See you around!” She asks.

“Definitely. See you.”

With that, Y/N walks away and Harry gets into his car. As Harry watches her go, he can't help but wonder what the future will bring and he realises he's not wanting to wait for it all to happen. He quickly opens the door and calls her name, stopping her in her tracks.

“Yes?” She asks, confused.

“Can I please have your phone number? I'd love to catch up.”

“Oh, yes. Of course.” She says, pulling her phone out and giving him the number.

“Great. Thanks.”

“Sure thing. Have a nice evening, Harry.”

“You too, Y/N.”

He watches as she walks away, feeling a sense of calm wash over him. It's like he's found something he didn't even know was missing, and he can't wait to explore the possibilities with her. ***

Ever since the field trip when Harry would drop Charlie off at school, he can't stop thinking about Y/N. She's always been on his mind, but this time, it's different. Now that they've reconnected, Harry can't help but notice everything about her. The way she smiles, the way she laughs, and the way her eyes sparkle.

He hasn't dated since Charlie's mother left. He was too busy raising his son and working, and it wasn't really a priority. But now, as he watches Y/N interact with his boy, he can't help but want more. He wants her, and he's not sure what to do about it.

One afternoon, as Harry is waiting in the parking lot after picking up Charlie, Y/N approaches his car. She gives him a small wave and a smile, and he quickly gets out of the car.

“Hi.” She greets him, a slight blush on her cheeks.

“Hey. What's up?” He asks, leaning against the car.

“Um, I was wondering if you'd like to grab a coffee with me? You asked for my number but never called, so I thought I'd ask you in person.” She asks, her voice laced with nervousness.

“Oh, yeah. I'm sorry, I've been... I got kinda nervous.” He admits.

“Really?” She asks, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Yeah.” He says. He doesn't explain himself further, and they just stand there, looking at each other for a minute. “Let's change the coffee for dinner and you've got yourself a deal.” He smirks, making her laugh.

“Deal.”

They agree on a time and place and then Y/N leaves, her smile growing wider with each step she takes. Harry watches her, his heart beating faster with every passing second. As he's driving home, Harry can't stop smiling. He's finally going on a date with the woman of his dreams.

He decides to make an effort and dresses up a little, putting on a nice pair of jeans and a shirt. It's not much, but it's more than he usually wears. He even brushes his hair. When he's done, he goes into the living room and finds Charlie sitting on the couch, watching TV.

“Hey, little man. Are you hungry?” Harry asks. Charlie shakes his head. “Are you sure? I'm going out for dinner and I can pick something up for you on the way home.”

“Can I come?” Charlie asks, looking up at his father with big, puppy eyes.

“Oh, um... Maybe next time, buddy. Grandma is coming over to watch you. This is kind of an adult thing.”

“What is it?”

“I'm having dinner with a friend.” Harry explains. Charlie frowns, and his brows furrows in concentration.

“Do I know her?” He asks, his voice curious.

“Yes, you do. But you can meet her another time, okay?”

“Okay.” Charlie says, seemingly satisfied with the answer. “Daddy?”

“Yes, little man?”

“Do you have a girlfriend?” He asks, tilting his head to the side. Harry almost chokes on the air, his eyes going wide.

“What?” He manages to squeak out.

“I heard the other kids talk about it at school. They said you're supposed to have dinner with your girlfriend.” Charlie explains.

“Oh. Well, no, buddy. I don't have a girlfriend.” Harry says. “Not yet.” He adds, thinking about Y/N.

“Oh. Okay.”

Charlie's questions stop and they sit in silence until his grandmother comes. Once Anne arrives, Harry leaves the house, and heads towards the restaurant. The place is busy, but not packed, and Harry manages to find a table easily. He orders a drink and sits down, his leg bouncing nervously. He's not sure why he's so anxious, it's just dinner with an old friend. He has no reason to be worried.

Y/N shows up a few minutes later, and when their eyes meet, she smiles. She looks beautiful, her hair loose and a soft dress hugging her curves. Harry feels his heart rate speed up.

“Hi.” She greets him as she approaches the table.

“Hey.” He smiles, getting up to hug her. “You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you. You look good too.” She blushes.

“Thank you.”

They order food and talk about anything and everything. They talk about the past and how they've changed over the years. They talk about the present and their jobs, their likes and dislikes. They also talk about the future and their hopes and dreams. It's a nice, easy conversation, and Harry is glad she had the guts to ask him on a date.

After they finish eating, they go for a walk, taking in the fresh air and talking about the most random things. Y/N talks about the kids and the crazy stories she's heard and Harry laughs at her tales, especially when she imitates their voices. He can't believe how easily they fall back into a rhythm, and he finds himself hoping this will continue.

After their walk, they go back to his car, and Harry drives her home as she took the bus on the way here. He parks outside her apartment building and they sit in the car, neither of them knowing what to say.

“Well, I had a really nice time tonight, Harry.” Y/N breaks the silence.

“Me too.” He says, a soft smile on his lips. “I'm glad you asked me out.”

“So am I.” She says.

They sit there for a few moments, just looking at each other before Harry finally pulls her cheek to the side so their eyes meet. They lean in slowly, their lips almost touching.

“Thank you again for a wonderful evening, Harry.” Y/N whispers.

“It was my pleasure.” He replies, his voice low and husky.

Their lips meet, and a fire ignites within him. They kiss deeply and passionately, his hands exploring her body. She moans into his mouth, her fingers tangling in his hair. Harry knows he shouldn't do this, not on the first date, but he can't help himself. He needs her. They kiss until their lungs scream for air, and they have to break apart. They stare at each other, both panting.

“Wow.” Y/N whispers, licking her lips.

“Yeah.” He replies, his heart racing. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-.“

“No, it's okay. I wanted this too.” She interrupts, a soft smile on her face. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“How do you feel about dating with Charlie around? I can imagine it's not easy, especially since he's only four.”

“Well, I've never dated anyone, so I'm not sure.” Harry shrugs. “But I can't stop thinking about you.” He adds, looking into her eyes.

“Really?” She asks, surprised.

“Yes. I've been thinking about you ever since I saw you again.”

“Me too.”

They lean in again, their lips meeting once more. They kiss until their bodies ache and their lungs burn, and then they part. Harry can't believe he's doing this, but he knows it's right.

“Let's just take things slow.” He says, his voice husky.

“Okay.” Y/N smiles.

They kiss one last time before saying their goodbyes. As Harry watches her go, he can't help but smile. He's not sure where this will lead, but he can't wait to find out.

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upsidedownwithsteve · 2 years

Text

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.9K]

When you’d told Steve you had a bad day, a bad week, you’d hadn’t expected him to do anything about it. Maybe give you a hug, sure, a kiss or five, a soft assurance that good days would come.

He gave you all of that but you didn’t expect him to pull you into his lap and card his fingers through your hair, thumb pushed to the soft of your cheek and ask:

“How can I make it okay?”

You were so ready to shrug, to try and hide the tears gathering at your lash line because he was looking at you so sincerely it ached. Steve couldn’t make the bad days go away, but he could make the next one better.

So he picked you up the next morning, the early sun making the summer sky hazy, that pretty pink lilac shade that still hung amongst the blue and Steve Harrington waited for you on the sidewalk like an all American dream.

He stood by his car, hands in his pockets, leaning against the door, all summer and smiles, tanned skin and a new freckle or two because Steve was June and July and August, the beginning of a heatwave, the end of the longest, lightest night.

All your stress ebbed away as you walked down the driveway to him, sundress short and flowy, Steve’s favourite colour on you and you acted coy as he gave you a whistle, low and all flirt, eyes flitting over your bare legs.

He grinned, opened his arms for you to run the rest of the way into, catching you around the waist, kissing you soundly. It was sweet like the early hour, still sleep lined and soft, tasting like leftover mint toothpaste and coffee. Steve made a show of littering your face with kisses, even when you feigned annoyance, hiding your smile by ducking your chin but the boy pulled laughter from you like it was his job.

And Steve was very, very good at his job.

So he pressed spearmint kisses to your cheeks, the tip of your nose, over your lashes, your forehead, even an ear. He swallowed your laughter like medicine, gave you it back like a shot of serotonin and sunshine.

“You ready?” Steve grinned, leaning into your touch as you smooth over his hair, fingers curling into the messy strands at the nape of his neck.

“For what?” You’d replied, nose scrunched, eyes bright, ‘cause it was barely nine o’clock in the morning and it was already better than yesterday.

“Only, like, the best day of your life,” Steve shrugged, smile downturned to play off his enthusiasm, all faux nonchalance as he pushed off of the door, turning to open it for you with a flourish.

You laughed, bright and sharp, leaning over the top of the open car door, pushed to your toes so you could press your forehead to Steve’s. His eyes crinkled in the corners at your touch, your giddy smile, the smell of your perfume, your closeness.

“Oh yeah? That’s big talk, Harrington,” your voice was quiet and teasing, enough flirt there to make Steve’s cheek ache from smiling so much.

“Oh yeah,” he replied. “Gonna rock your world, pretty thing. Buckle up.”

He drove you out of town with the windows down and the relief you felt as you passed the Hawkins sign was palpable. You left your worries behind, your stress, the nights with little sleep. The car smelled like Steve’s cologne, like takeaway coffee and leftover sunscreen and cologne from pool days last week.

The boy wouldn’t tell you where he was taking you, would grin and squeeze softly at your thigh when you asked, warm palm curling around the bare skin under your dress, high enough to be almost scandalous, to make you feel as hot as the sun was on the windscreen. He turned the radio up louder, beamed when you sang along, eyes closed, head tipped back, wind whipping at your hair.

It took about an hour and a half to drive into Indianapolis, the fields and farmland left behind to give way to a bigger landscape, taller buildings, wider roads and a lot less trees. You were leaning forward at each traffic light, looking at the signs, wondering what turn Steve was going to take next, where you’d end up.

You gasped when Steve turned the last corner, the road bending and leading into a large parking lot, not all that busy. The sign above the big building told you exactly where you were.

“The aquarium?” You asked, as if Steve was joking, as if he was going to drive away and your voice sounded small, soft and full of emotion.

“Yeah,” Steve smiled, pulling into a space and turning off the engine. He turned to look at you, brown eyes as warm as honey, just as sweet too. “You told me your grandfather used to take you here, right?”

You nodded, lips pressed together so you didn’t cry or do something stupid, like ask the boy to marry you.

“I figured it had maybe been a while since you’d come, but,” Steve tilted his head to look at you, pressed a thumb to your chin in a fond touch, “I thought it’d be a pretty chill day out.”

You hiccuped a laugh, eyes almost turning glassy and Steve would’ve been alarmed if he didn’t know you as well as he did. He leaned in, seatbelt still buckled and straining but he was smiling, that soft, warm smile you swore he only used for you.

“Good surprise?” He murmured, nose nudging at your cheek. You were warm and it made him feel a little proud, happy to elicit such a pretty reaction from you.

“Good surprise,” you confirmed, grinning as you let him kiss you, a soft peck of his lips against yours that soon gave way to more, as warm as the sun on the back of your neck.

Your lips parted for Steve, far too easily considering the public setting but you were leaning over the console to meet him halfway, head tilted, mouth slanting over the boy’s as he kissed you soft and deep. It made you sigh, a sound that Steve swallowed, a contented little noise that Steve swore was his favourite, one he loved to try and pull from you whenever he could. He ran his tongue over yours, pulled back just enough to make you chase him, smiling through the kiss as you tutted at him, at his smugness.

“If this makes you happy enough,” Steve murmured against your lips, grinning when you moved to kiss at his chin, his jaw, “I’m more than okay to do this all day.”

You snorted a little, a huff of laugh pressed against the line of his neck and you nipped the skin there to make him shudder. It worked and you pulled back, eyes a little darker than before, a shade that complimented Steve’s, both of your lips kiss bitten and rosy.

“That’s a really tempting offer,” you told him and you weren’t even kidding, not really, not that much. “But I wanna see the sharks.”

Steve laughed, lips pressed together as he looked at you with so much adoration that it hurt your chest. He reached down to unfasten your seatbelt before doing the same to his, smoothing down your skirt and tucking a wild strand of hair behind your ear. His thumb rubbed a soft line over the high of your cheekbone.

“Yeah? Sharks?”

“Sharks,” you confirmed.

So Steve slung an arm around your shoulders as you crossed the lot, two hands holding his as you stood by his side at the front desk, rolling your eyes when the boy refused to let you pay half. But giddy excitement took over as you walked out of the lobby and into the first room, dark except for the lights in the tanks, blue reflections on the floor, the walls, the sounds of trickling water and absolute peace.

Steve followed a little behind you, smiling fondly as your face lit up and lavender and fuchsia lights painted your face. It turned you cheeks a deeper colour than normal, lavender lips, barbie pink eyelids, eyelashes casting shadows.

You touched the glass gently with your fingertips, everything about you soft, Steve noted. You watched the jellyfish float up and down, dreamlike in their motions, their slow dance reflected in your eyes. Steve was looking at you again.

“I could stay here all day,” you told him quietly, a small smile on your face.

Steve believed you, had watched the tension soften and ease from your shoulders, the weight of the world crumbling away as you watched the light dance off of the water.

Steve leaned against the tank, a shoulder pressed to the glass so the lilac light scattered itself across his cheek, the slope of his jaw. His brown eyes looked black in the dark room and he was still watching you. You made his heart thump, a little harder than normal, just a little faster than it should.

“But what about the sharks?” He asked and he grinned when you smiled, body leaning into his to indulge him.

Steve’s fingertips caught yours, a soft touch, a beckon, a silent: ‘wanna come with me?’ You let him tangle your hand with his, fingers linked. He tilted his head and you followed, both of you walking past the few kids that were silently watching the stingrays float at the bottom of a shallow pool, noses almost touching the water.

“I think I needed this,” you told Steve, voice sticky with emotion. The week had been hard, sleep not coming all that easy. You leaned into his, cheek pressed to his shoulder as you walked through the dark corridors, posters of sea creatures and underwater plants lining the walls. “This is nice.”

Steve smiled, turning his face to press a kiss to your temple, hand squeezing yours a little tighter. You seemed less tired, eyes a little brighter than he’d seen them in a while.

“Yeah?” He murmured, pleased by your words. His cheeks were pink but you didn’t dare tease. “Good. I just want you to be happy, babe.”

It felt like your chest caved in at his words, so soft and so kind - so sincere - that your heart hurt. You stopped and tugged him back by the hand, a look of surprise in Steve’s eyes as he gazed at you.

“C’mere,” you asked quietly, uncaring that you were in front of a tank, a shoal of pink seahorses swimming across coral behind you both.

You anchored yourself to the boy, hands gripping his waist, fingers twisted into his cotton t-shirt. You pushed onto your toes, chin tilted up and you didn’t need to ask before Steve was leaning down for you, a smile already on his lips, eyes fluttering closed.

“I’m here,” he whispered and you could hear his happiness in those two words, you could taste the joy.

“Need to kiss you,” you told him, matter of fact about it and before he could reply, you were pushing your lips to his, a soft sound of delight coming from his chest.

It was chaste, considering the few people that were milling around, too entranced by the animals to really take notice of two young lovers in the navy shadows. But you took your time with it, caught Steve’s bottom lip between yours, nudged at his cheek with your nose so he would indulge you a little more, leaning down further so you could trap his top lip too.

He was grinning when you pulled away, a smile that matched yours, pink in the cheeks and the ultraviolet lights in his eyes.

“What was that for?” Steve asked, before quickly adding, “not that I’m complaining, like, at all.”

You smiled, shy, shrugged and crinkled your nose as if the boy was asking a silly question. “You make me happy.”

You got another kiss in return, just as sweet as the first.

Steve followed you around the aquarium, almost losing you to the shadows before finding you in the light, your buttercup yellow sundress turned orange in the red spotlights, each one illuminating a tank of deep sea creatures, spindly and strange looked, your nose pressed to the glass and your eyes wide.

The boy was happy to linger, watching you light up, the quiet of the aquarium easing the crinkle that had lived between your brows for a week or two. You looked pretty, like you always did, but almost too pretty under the glow, the refractions from the water dancing across your bare legs. It was the most innocent kind of joy and Steve couldn’t help but laugh at you when you walked through the shark tunnels, hand in hand and naming each species.

“This is an almost odd fascination,” he said fondly as you told him all about the dwarf lantern shark, which was apparently as small as a goldfish. “And its belly lights up?” He repeated.

You nodded, eyes still scanning the roof of the tunnel, the glass glittering against the water and the light. A large nurse shark swam overhead and you grinned. “Yup. Like a glow stick.”

That’s how it went, Steve letting you tug at his hand, holding onto his arm as you pointed out this fish and that shark. You both watched as a small octopus, bright red in colour as it opened a jar, both of you enraptured and heads touching, staring through the glass.

The aquarium was close to closing as you sat on a bench at the last attraction, a huge domed room that was mostly glass, the only light trickling in from the inside the tank, warm and dim. It lit up the shoals of fish, slow swimming and brightly coloured, the coral on the sandy bed just as pretty.

Every now and then something big would swim past, casting shadows over the floor, you and Steve, a giant turtle, a stingray or two. It was peaceful, dark and quiet, both of you lit up in navy and green.

You were watching a fish, something long and flat looking, as it bobbed across the tank floor digging at the sand and rocks. Steve was watching you.

“Did you know, coral produces its own sunscreen?” you told Steve. You didn’t wait for a reply, eyes on the moving plants, a sunset scene of coloured under the water. “They make their own algae to protect them from sun rays.”

Steve didn’t answer so you tore your eyes away from the clownfish that was darting in and out of the bright pink anemone to look at the boy.

He was smiling, eyes soft and fond, already looking at you. There was small freckles of light on his cheeks, dancing the same way the water moved, disappearing when a fish swam in front of him.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

His words swallowed you whole, sticky like honey, warm and sweet and his voice was so full of affection for you that you almost didn’t know what to do with yourself. Steve was never shy with compliments and you were well used to them after being with him for so long, even before you were officially together.

But there was something about the way he was looking at you that made your heart thump, a solid beat beneath your ribs that you swore could be heard out loud.

You didn’t know what to say, caught off guard and completely enamoured by the boy beside you, with his wild hair and pretty eyes, all soft lips and sharp lines. He had new freckles, tiny dots you could see even in the shadows, ones you were sure he’d received from the day he spent with you out by his pool.

They made him look a little younger, boyish and achingly handsome.

So you hid from him, cheeks warm and bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you pushed your face to your shoulder, hands covering yourself as you made some strange noises of protest, as if you’d ever dare argue with Steve about it.

You heard rather than saw him laugh, and then, his fingers wrapped around your wrists, tugging gently. “Don’t hide that pretty face from me,” he chided. “S’all mine.”

Steve pulled and you followed, onto your feet as he took your hands in his and towed you towards his lap. He settled you between his legs, tucked to his chest with his chin on your head, a kiss pressed there as you both watched the underwater world go by.

You were grinning, beaming, that cheek aching kinda smile that you knew would last until bedtime and when Steve wrapped his arms around your middle and hugged you a little tighter, it only grew in size. He made you dizzy with happiness, turned you into a greedy, little thing that ached for his touch and attention, but oh my god, you’d never experienced joy like it.

Steve was summer and sunshine and pool days and trips to the aquarium. He was long drives, messy hair, stolen kisses in the shadows and absolutely everything you needed.

Everything you wanted.

“Thank you,” you whispered and you wondered if he’d heard, if he could tell just how much you meant it. You felt weightless leaning against him, relaxed for the first time in days.

But then he was curling down to you, lips on your cheek and you turned so he could catch the corner of your mouth, another kiss there for good measure.

“Nothin’ to thank me for, baby,” he shrugged but you could tell he was smiling, you could tell he was happy that you were happy. “Jus’ doing my job.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington oneshot #UDWS10K #stranger things fic

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 8 months

Note

WIBTA if I called animal services on my parent's neighbours?

I want to begin this with saying neither me nor my parents get on with my parent's neighbours. My parents live in a rural area with about 6 acres of land. The field next door used to be just a large field however 6 years ago got brought by a middle age couple (50 and 65) and they built a house on it with the majority of the field still being used for their horses.

We never got on but for the most part just ignored each other until covid. During covid my parents started walking in the woods behind our house to get out of the house on a daily bases whereas before they would have gone travelling and walking other places. The new neighbours didn't like this. Both properties open directly onto foresty land however the easiest way to get to the main forest path is to walk along the fence that borders neighbours field. To cut a long story short there was a lot of shouting, signs and sticks blocking our way, harassment, and cameras to try and intimidate my parents not to walk behind their property. We got the police involved in the end and have a restraining order against the neighbours so they're not allowed to approach or talk to us within reason (obviously they can be in the field to tend to the horses etc)

I wanted to tell this to get the point that yeah parents and neighbours do not get on at all. Since the restraining order things have been peaceful however I did install a camera at the front of my parents property as we did have some damage that might have been neighbours but could have been anything else really. This was recommended by the police. My parents aren't good with tech so I take care of their phones/netflix and now having the camera connected to my phone so I get the alerts if someone walks by.

The neighbours recently got two puppies though they are now over a year old. They are GSP x Labs so working dogs that in my opinion would need a lot of exercise and enrichment. As I get the notifications for the camera I know what time the neighbour walks past with the dogs and it's every day down the same country road for 10 to 20 mins in the morning. To me it doesn't seem to be enough. I've also noticed since the dogs are growing up and getting stronger/not trained the neighbour seems to be struggling with them. My neighbour is 65 but not the fittest and this past week he's been taking one dog at a time for a 5 minute walk each.

Now all I have is the knowledge of the camera. They could be getting enrichment at home, let loose in the field with the horses to run but to me it just doesn't seem fair on the dogs. But since it's been peaceful for my parents I don't want to rock the boat and maybe cause the neighbours to retaliate. Even anon they probably would know who it is who called the animal services on them. But I also hate to see dogs not living their best life. I have no doubt they aren't getting mistreated and are well fed. I just don't think they are the right dogs for an middle age couple that do not leave the house except to get shopping and can barely give them a 10 minute walk. I don't even really agree with how they keep their horses either but again they're not mistreating them just keeping young horses in a field all day and not doing any training or anything at all with them. Just seems unfair.

Sorry for the long post, just been weighing on my mind.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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bubbledtee · 7 months

Text

ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴀʀᴍᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

Warnings: smoking, drinking, social anxiety, sexual references

Word count: 4.8k

beta-read by @30-3am

contents

playlist

✧.* "In a small corner bar he sits there a-drinkin'. Lost as a ball in a field full of corn. Further away than he ever imagined that he'd ever end up from the place he was born." ~ "Creeker", Tyler Childers ✧.*

a/n: this shit took so long to get out i'm giggling

»»——⍟——««

🇳🇪🇼 🇨🇴🇼🇧🇴🇾 🇮🇳 🇹🇴🇼🇳 (Ch. 1)

January 22nd, 1994 - La Veta, CO

Bea held herself in the passenger seat of Zoe’s red Buick LeSabre, the well-below-freezing Colorado weather penetrating the vehicle despite shut windows and cranked heat. She cursed herself for letting Abigail convince her to wear the black, form-fitting turtle-neck dress from her closet, wishing she had opted for a nice pair of blue jeans and a warm sweater instead. She just hoped the heating at the old dive bar would suffice not to freeze her to death tonight.

“Don’t look so sad, B! You’re seein’ the outside world for once,” Abigail’s Kentucky accent was thicker than usual as she pushed Bea’s shoulder slightly from the backseat. “You’re too wrapped up with those damn horses, you need a night off!”

Bea looked behind her into the backseat. The tall, southern blonde held a cigarette between her long, thin fingers, her hand hanging lazily as she balanced her elbow on her knee. Someone walking down the street would know the girl was a Southern beauty just from a glance. She wore too much makeup and an excessive amount of pink that was an eyesore to anybody in their right mind, but most men she was after didn’t so much care about her style as they did about what the dress hid from their perverted gaze.

Bea giggled. “I’m not sad, Abby. I’m just fucking freezing,” she told her, snatching the cigarette from Abigail’s fingers. She brought the lipstick-stained stick up to her mouth and took a long drag, the burn that began to fill her chest, warming her from the inside out. She held the smoke in as she handed the cigarette to Audrey, the girl brushing her ginger curls from her freckled face.

“I shouldn’t have let you convince me to wear this god-awful dress. I’m freezing and I look ridiculous,” Bea grumbled.

There was a collective chorus of ‘no’s’ as soon as she uttered the self-deprecating words, “Shut your mouth, you look gorgeous. You’re just not used to seeing yourself cleaned up!” Zoe insisted, momentarily averting her gaze from the barren and beat-up road to look at Bea. The brunette wore a dubious expression with an eye roll, and Zoe gently hit her arm in retaliation. “I’m serious!”

“And even if you didn’t look good, you’ve gotta be confident. It makes anything look good,” Audrey chimed from the back seat, “I mean, it even makes Abby’s dresses look good on her.”

The already-tipsy blonde gasped beside her, “Fuck you!” she playfully exclaimed, shoving Audrey slightly. “They look good either way,”

The other girls laughed, “Yeah, maybe at some hick beauty pageant in Kentucky.” Audrey rebutted, her face twisted into a wicked grin as she poked fun at her friend.

Bea just shook her head and laughed, watching from the car’s front window. She watched as the sign that read ‘LA VETA’ grew closer and closer until the vehicle eventually passed it - her eyes shifting to the tiny rows of buildings that now enclosed the road on either side.

The minuscule town was one she knew well, memories of walking along the sidewalks with her parents and brothers immediately flooding her mind every time she crossed the threshold. It was the closest town to Lone Wolf Ranch with any civilization, meaning it was the only place the family could shop, eat out, or anything in between. The only times Bea went into town was to buy herself new tack and blankets for horses, or when her friends dragged her into a night out–just like tonight.

The car slowly pulled into the Magpie Inn’s tiny parking lot, Zoe leaning forward slightly to search for an open parking space. Bea looked around, too, searching for any cars she knew. The number of old F-250s and Silverado 3500s that crowded the parking lot made it evident enough that the place would be full of cowboys who had been enjoying their day off at the bar since before noon. And just as she had expected, she recognized almost every vehicle there.

After a minute, Zoe pulled the car into one of the last open parking spots in the lot and shut the vehicle off. The group hopped out before swiftly shuffling toward the bar's front doors, attempting to preserve their warmth as much as possible.

Bea could hear the buzz of the neon sign that hung beside the door as they approached it, its bright lights flashing ‘OPEN’. The warmth of the light almost seemed to radiate off the sign and reach her, and she could feel her face warm slightly as they approached the door.

However, warmth enveloped her significantly stronger when Audrey opened the building’s doors. Not only that, but the pungent stench of liquor and beer that doused everyone’s breath inside found her too, all of it topped off by the booming sound of a country band that sat at the other side of the establishment–playing an upbeat tune.

As they entered the room, Bea practically hid behind her friends like a small child. She felt so stupid for being shy around people she had mainly known for years, but she couldn’t help the embarrassment that flooded her as she imagined what everybody thought about the girl being dressed up like she was. All she could imagine was negativity and internalized insults of all types.

Zoe suddenly pulled Bea from her negative thoughts as she spoke, “Come on, let’s get you a drink. You need something to help you loosen up,” She softly grabbed Bea’s hand and led her toward the bar, carefully weaving through the crowd of drunk cowboys and tradesmen alike. She thought a few blurs of faces seemed familiar, but she was thankful she didn’t have the time to do a double take as she and Zoe reached the bar.

Bea leaned over the bar as her counterpart ordered their drinks, her voice bubbly as she did so. She looked down the bar to her left and observed the folks who sat on the old, cracked leather seat stools along the wooden barrier. Most were older men her father knew well–ones that had long been left by their wives and now drink themselves to death by their lonesome. Some of them make their way from those ruts and redeem themselves as her father and her brother, Johnny, had, but others have no desire to fix themselves. Such as her brother Tommy. She shook the thought from her head as Zoe handed her a Heineken, the cold condensation freezing her fingertips.

She sipped the beer lightly, letting the cold bubbles spread across her tongue and sting slightly down her throat. She never was much of a fan of beer, the scent of the hops often ruining her enjoyment of the otherwise refreshing drink, but right then, she really didn’t seem to mind. Anything that would slightly calm her nerves was worth whatever it might take.

The two walked back toward the other girls, Zoe carrying their beers with her own. Bea followed close behind her as though she were a lost puppy looking for her mother; if she were quite honest, she felt like she was.

They reached Audrey and Abby, and Zoe handed them their drinks. Joking words were shared between the three as Bea’s gaze turned longingly toward the door. She felt pathetic for how much she wanted to leave, like such a nuisance to her poor friends who simply wanted to take her from the nights they deemed lonely. But she didn’t quite enjoy seeing so many longtime family friends (or foes) in one place simultaneously.

As her mind drifted off and her gaze lingered on the door, a tall, blonde cowboy walked through the ingress. He looked almost anxious as he tucked his hands into his Storm Rider’s pockets and glanced around the room, his eyes catching Bea’s. Even from a distance, she could admire the icy blue irises beneath his beaten and dirty cowboy hat. She’d never seen him before.

Before she could longer study his handsome and rugged features, a tap on her shoulder made her head whip in the opposite direction.

“You okay, babe?” Zoe asked her with a tilt of her head, her eyes soft.

Bea nodded quickly with a flushed face. “Yeah… Yeah, I’m good.” She sent a forced smile her friend's way and watched as Zoe’s gaze shifted beyond her and toward the bar. A grin slowly crept onto her face before looking back at Bea.

“He’s cute,” she muttered, causing the pink flush of Bea’s face to turn bright red. Bea rolled her eyes and looked away from Zoe and down at her shoes, almost ashamed. Ever since her last long-term boyfriend left her high and dry two years ago, she hadn’t much tried to find a new lover. Sure, she’d had a rebound or two when she was slumped after the breakup, and she’d tried to have them fill the emptiness that lingered within her heart, but it was either too soon or not enough. So she’d simply given up after a year and decided she’d focus on her father’s ranch rather than a lover. It would be more simple that way, she thought.

However, her desire for a lover had been growing within the prior months, and maybe that’s what gave her the final push to go out with the other girls that night. But she wasn’t sure.

Zoe’s face scrunched in slight disgust as she looked back at the blonde man, “Ugh, but that haircut…” she grimaced, making Bea turn her head to look at him. He had removed his cowboy hat, and his hair was long, with the sides and top cut to make a long mullet. It was reminiscent of a haircut that her sophomore-year boyfriend, Donovan, had had. But she didn’t mind. She supposed the poor choice of haircut was brave in its own kind of way.

“It’s not horrible,” she murmured, not even realizing she was defending the mysterious man. Her gaze lingered a bit longer as he removed his coat, revealing a black long-sleeve shirt with a bleach stain imprinted upon the left sleeve. She only looked away when he glanced back at her after ordering a drink. Bea’s face turned a deep red.

Zoe laughed, “Oh, my god, he’s blushing!”

Bea shook her head, “Shut up. How can you even tell? He looked the other way,” she muttered anxiously, “Stop looking at him, you’re being weird.”

Abby and Audrey turned away from their conversation to inch closer to the two, “What are we looking at?” Audrey asked before taking a sip of her beer.

“The guy with the mullet at the bar,” Zoe told her, pointing at him. Bea wanted to shrink down to the size of an ant and be stepped on right then and there. The situation was beyond embarrassing. “He and Bea were ogling each other,”

Audrey and Abby turned to look at him, “I’ve never seen him around before,” Abby said as she stared at the back of his head. Bea could only imagine how the girls' eyes were burning through the poor man’s skull. She was half expecting his brains to explode under their gaze.

Audrey shook her head, “Me neither,” she agreed. The trio looked back at Bea with wide grins spread across their faces. They seemed oddly excited at the prospect of her simply making eye contact with someone of the opposite sex. Was she really that much of a loser?

“You’ve gotta go talk to him, B!” Abby cheered, the other two girls agreeing in unison.

Bea just looked between the three of them, thoughts racing her mind. He was handsome, but she wasn’t sure if she was fit to simply approach him and attempt conversation. She was more than out of practice regarding anything of that nature.

She began to stutter out an excuse, “I-I don’t wanna bother him-”

Zoe interrupted her with a soft nudge to the shoulder, “There’s not a single man – especially not a cowboy – that would mind being bothered by a pretty girl like you. You know that, baby.” She brought her beer bottle up to her lips and took a quick swig; Bea just gave her a look and silently pleaded with her. Zoe gave a short nod and an understanding smile, “But it’s up to you.”

Bea exhaled a sigh of relief as the other two silently agreed, but not before Abby gave her two cents. “But you’d look adorable with him, B. Even more adorable than you look on your own.”

Bea smiled appreciatively, and with that, the mysterious cowboy was seemingly forgotten. The group carried on with conversation, occasionally running into familiar faces and catching up with each other’s lives over drinks. It slowly became nice for Bea. She wasn’t even entirely sure why she had been nervous to be there in the first place.

However, between drinks and increasingly easier conversation, Bea couldn’t help but sneak looks at the man from before. She’d occasionally catch him gazing softly in her direction already, but when she wouldn’t, she’d admire his features from afar—or at least the ones she could see from where she was standing.

His back was toned–she could tell through his shirt that hugged his broad shoulders–and wide arms. At one point, she had caught him standing to make his way to the bathroom, and she just couldn’t pry her eyes away from his ass. She figured it was better than her own.

With such a physique, she could tell he’d been working for most of his life, and as more alcohol coursed throughout her system, she wondered what that physique was like without such a pesky shirt. She wondered what his muscular thighs were beneath that nettlesome blue denim. Most of all, she wondered how a man she’d never spoken to before could have her practically drooling for doing nothing but minding his own business.

By the bottom of her third beer, Bea was beyond relaxed. She remembered how nice seeing old friends and catching up on small-town drama could be, and she spoke more than she had in the last month. With the growth of her confidence, her consideration of talking to the blonde cowboy grew, too. How horribly could it go? He was lonely, that much was obvious, and she figured he wouldn’t mind the company.

Bea looked back at the man as she took a drag of her cigarette. There was a perfectly free barstool right next to him, and she could hear it calling her name over the booming of the dive bar’s live band. She turned to Zoe and yelled over the thumping bass, “I’m gonna go get another beer,” her voice came out raspy, her throat tired from needing to speak over all their surrounding sounds.

“Okay,” Zoe shouted back. Bea didn’t quite understand how her friend was dealing with the surrounding crowd essentially sober, but she supposed she respected it.

“Do you mind grabbing me one, too?” Audrey asked–a significant slur to her voice.

Bea nodded her head, secretly regretting announcing where she was headed. She looked over at Abby, considering asking if she wanted one too, but she could tell from her company of wasted cowboys that she was more than well off.

Bea flicked her cigarette anxiously and turned toward the bar, beginning to weave through the maze of drunkards. She was smaller than just about everyone in the room, and pushing through the crowd was a task that seemed nearly impossible to her. It was almost like she was invisible as she brushed past drunk cowboys and their equally inebriated female counterparts, people only moving if she pushed them with some force. She truly wondered how difficult it was to be spacially aware as she wedged between the last few layers of people.

Finally, Bea pushed through the thick herd of drunkards and to the line that sat in front of the bar.

Immediately, her eyes were on him.

He had his arm propped up on the bar, his chin gently rested in his hand. His eyes were lazily focused on the hockey game that played on the boxy television hung from the ceiling behind the bar. The Boston Bruins were playing the Philadelphia Flyers, two teams that the mid-westerners who occupied the rest of the bar couldn’t have cared less about, and neither did he, it seemed. But it was something to occupy him, Bea was sure.

She continued to watch as he grabbed his beer bottle and brought it to his lips, taking a thick swig of the bubbly beverage. He huffed a sigh as he set the bottle down.

Bea took a drag of her cigarette and allowed the nicotine to cool her rising nerves. She looked back at the girls she had left, immediately locking eyes with a grinning Zoe. Bea looked away and down at her feet, a blush painting her face. Now she really couldn’t back out, unless she wanted to be chastised endlessly by her best friend for not committing to the chance she was about to take.

With a final drag of her cigarette, Bea looked into the smudged mirror behind the liquor shelves of the bar. She cursed that stupid dress she wore, telling herself how ridiculous it looked. Why couldn’t she have just worn jeans and a blouse? She’d look cuter and be comfier.

Silently, she shook the thoughts from her head as she remembered what Audrey said in the car earlier.

Whatever, Bea thought, Confidence, B, that’s all you need.

She stood straight, adjusting her body language to display confidence, hoping it looked even somewhat natural. She looked back at where Zoe had been staring from, only to find the back of her head. No more eyes on her, good.

With her sleight confidence, Bea walked up to the barstool beside the blonde and sat, setting her forearms upon the bar. She was there. It was a step in the right direction. All she had to do now was start a conversation. Somehow.

In an attempt to stall for time, she waved down the bartender and asked for another beer, hoping it would convince the man beside her that he wasn’t the entire reason she had sat down. Though, he seemed to have not noticed her presence as he lit a cigarette and kept his focus on the hockey game in front of him.

Bea watched from the corner of her eye as he took a long drag and flicked the ash into the tray that sat to the left of him. As he did so, his eyes followed the cigarette, stopping only when they seemed to catch something on the bar. Right then, she noticed just how blue his eyes were; they were only a shade or two darker than the noon sky.

“There you are, darlin’.” The bartender smiled at Bea as he set a cold Heineken in front of her.

She looked up, her eyes wide in something akin to confusion before awkwardly smiling back. “Oh! Thanks,” she spoke. The bartender nodded and turned away, making his way to a drunkard waving him down elsewhere.

Bea’s attention slyly turned back towards the blonde beside her. His eyebrows were furrowed in what seemed to be curiosity, and Bea tried to follow where exactly he was looking. She looked at the ashtray and slowly tracked further left until her gaze met her hand.

“What’s that say?” the man asked, his voice enough to melt Bea into a puddle.

She looked at him, her head tilting. “What?” she nearly squeaked.

“The tattoo,” he pointed to the ink inscribed on top of her hand, “What’s it say?”

His voice was thick and gruff but had a deep smoothness to it that made Bea’s head spin. She looked back at her hand, almost as if she was unaware of the emblem written into her skin. “Oh,” she looked at him, her cheeks flushed a bright red. “Blondie,” she finally told him as she rolled her sleeve up just a bit to reveal the entire tattoo. The name had been inscribed in calligraphy below the print date of “9/26/1988”, a small heart attached to the tail of the ‘e’ on the calligraphy with it all encircled by the depiction of a horseshoe.

“What’s the date for?” the cowboy asked, twisting his upper body towards the woman beside him and bringing his cigarette back to his lips.

Bea sat up straight, “It’s the day he died,” she told him before stumbling to cover her vagueness, “Blondie, a horse of mine. First horse I ever broke on my own,”

The man’s eyebrows shot up, obviously expecting a different, much happier answer. Whatever that may have been. “Oh, m’sorry.” he muttered, clearing his throat and taking a swig of his beer.

“That’s alright,” Bea smiled softly, her heart thumping hard against her ribcage as she spoke with him. Even over the sound of the dive bar’s band, she was sure he could hear it too.

He took another quick drag of his cigarette before stubbing it in the glass ashtray. His hands were big and rough, obviously made from years of work. Bea’s stomach coiled slightly at the sight as her mind wandered. She thought about how they’d feel on her back, her hips, her thighs…

“I like it, though,” he told her, snapping her from her sinful thoughts. He looked up at her, “Not many folks have tattoos. It’s different,”

She was sure her face was beet red as she smiled at him, “Thank you,” she said. “Usually, people ask me if I was drunk when I decided to get it. Or if I worship Satan.”

The cowboy squinted and scoffed before saying, “For a tattoo commemorating a dead horse?”

She shrugged, “They say it’s a Pagan practice.” The cowboy just shook his head and rolled his eyes as he took a final swig of his beer. Bea spoke, “Pretty sure Pagans don’t worship Satan, either.”

“People just like hearing themselves talk,” he grumbled, placing the empty beer bottle on the bar. “Always have something to say about how you live your life. It’s dumb.”

“Agreed,” Bea nodded, reaching for her untouched beer bottle. She took a swig as the cowboy returned to watching the TV, the game at the tail end of the third period. Now she had to start more conversation. She reached into her dress’s pocket and pulled out her pack of Marlboro Reds alongside a lighter. As she plucked a cigarette from the pack, she spoke. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

The man looked at her, “Definitely not,” he smiled softly. “I’m originally from a bit further west, little town called Durango.”

Bea nodded, her eyes lighting up. “Oh, yeah! My daddy won a big barrel racing title out that way in ‘68 at the uh…”

“Fiesta Days Rodeo?”

“Yeah! That’s it!”

The cowboy nodded, his entire body turned on the barstool towards Bea. He had a prideful smirk on his face, “That’s the first rodeo I ever rode in. Junior bull riding in ‘77 when I was 14. Fell off in three seconds,”

Bea tilted her head and smiled, “You’re a bull rider?”

“Was, for about two years. Then I started doing some of the calf roping in the rodeo. I did a whole lot better with that, nowhere near as many head injuries.” he told her, picking up his hat from the bar and placing it on his knee to dust it off. “I tried barrel racing, but I never really got the hang of it. Cutting was the most fun, though. It feels like working a herd, except you’re in a ring,”

Bea nodded, “I did lots of cutting before Blondie died. He knew how to work cattle better than any old ranch horse we had,” she told him, “I still breed and train cutters and barrel racers, competing’s just harder nowadays.”

“You sell ‘em, too?” he asked, an eyebrow quirked.

She nodded, a grin plastered across her face. “Yeah. Why? You interested?”

The man snorted and put his hat on, “You’re funny,”

Bea giggled, “Come on, any self-respecting man wants a good working horse!” she took a tender sip of her beer.

The cowboy gave her a sardonic look, “Do I look like I have any self-respect, Miss…”

“Dalton,” she answered, “Lorelei Dalton, just call me Bea.”

“Where does ‘Bea’ come from out of ‘Lorelei Dalton’?” he teased.

She rolled her eyes, only then realizing just how loose her once-tensed muscles had become. “My middle name is Bernadette if you really have to know.”

The blonde nodded before sticking out his hand for her to shake, “James Hetfield,” he said as she grabbed it and they shook.

Bea’s hand was warm in his grip, his hand almost twice the size of hers and calloused from his years of work. “What brings you out here, then, Mr. Hetfield?”

“James,” he corrected with a smirk, “And just work. I was in Wyoming working a ranch this past year, but the guy who owned the place was a shady fuck. Didn’t ever pay any of his cowpunchers quite what he owed, so I just sort of up and left.”

Bea nodded, “I’d have done the same,” she said, “Why didn’t you go back to Durango?”

He shrugged. “It’s in my past,”

She took it as an ‘I don’t wanna talk about it,’.

“Well, there’s plenty of cattle to work out this way.” she told him, “I hope you find someone who’ll pay you what they owe,”

“Yeah, me too.” James chuckled. His laugh sent Bea’s insides fluttering. It was adorable. “I dunno, I’ve got a ‘trial’ for a job, I guess. Over in Cuchara. I start tomorrow,”

Bea leaned on the bar top, “Maybe I’ll be seeing you around often, then.” she told him. His head tilted in curiosity at her words. “My family’s ranch is out in Cuchara, ‘Lone Wolf’. My daddy and my brother work the cattle.

“Just them?” he asked.

Bea nodded, “Our herd isn’t huge right now, we had a bad calving yield this past spring.” she told him, taking a swig of her beer before continuing. “What’s the name of the ranch you’re gonna be working?”

James shrugged, “I forgot,” he simply said.

Bea gave him an unimpressed look, “Really?”

“Really.” he affirmed, “I’ve got the address, though.” he began fishing through his jeans’ pockets, but before he could pull anything from them, Bea felt a tap on her shoulder. She whipped her head around.

“Hey, babe. We’ve gotta go,” Zoe told her, her hand now grabbing for the meaty part of Bea’s arm.

“Wh-” Bea began, but her eyes soon fell upon Audrey, who was attempting to hold the attention of a tall, dark-haired cowboy across the room. However, his dark eyes were narrowed and focused overtop of the woman’s head. Straight at Bea. “Oh,” was all she could muster as her stomach dropped to her feet.

“Yeah,” Zoe said before looking over at James, who now sat dumbfounded and almost upset that this random woman had interrupted their conversation. He held a small piece of paper in his hand. “Sorry.” Zoe told him sincerely, “Just look her up in the Yellow Pages, or something.”

With that, Zoe and Bea began out the door. Bea turned to wave at the blonde cowboy, finding his now-longing and sad eyes following her out the door. He waved back at her with a sigh before standing and grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. She felt horrible. But she also needed to get out of there.

“What’s he doing here?” she asked Zoe, wide-eyed as they burst through the entrance. The bitter wind stung their cheeks.

Zoe shrugged, “He just came up to Audrey and asked if you were with us,” she unlocked her car’s door, and the two got into the vehicle. She stuck the key in the ignition, and the engine struggled to a start.

“I thought he’d left town!” Bea exclaimed as she shivered, trying to warm up as the car pushed hot air through its vents. “When is he going to fucking leave me alone?! We fucked twice. Twice! A year ago! That’s it!”

Zoe nodded, “I know. He’s a creep.”

Right then, the doors to the bar burst open, Audrey and Abigail drunkenly stumbling out with something akin to haste. Abigail was leaning against Audrey, her drunkenness reducing her to the balance of a toddler. They raced across the parking lot and burst the car doors open as soon as they reached them.

“We’ve got to go,” Audrey practically shouted as she slammed the door beside her. “Fucker tried grabbing me,”

Zoe whipped around, “What?!”

The man in question emerged from the entrance.

“Zoe, go,” Bea told her friend firmly. The car was then quickly put into gear, and they whipped out of the parking lot, leaving the old dive bar in the dust.

#yay!!!! i did it!!!!#only took 6 months #anywhooo #i hope y'all enjoy!!!!#hopefully gonna have chapter two out in like two or three weeks #james hetfield #papa het #ranch hand!james #rancher!james #metallica #james hetfield x oc #james hetfield fluff #james hetfield smut #the farmer's daughter #bub's writing

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hoodharlow · 1 year

Text

No Purple

AN: shout out to @killatravtramp for letting me use her idea 🥰🥰🥰 also well see more of Genesis when I post the actual teacher one shot

Request? No but I did use V's idea

Warnings: general smut lol

Word Count: 1.8k words

Genesis sighed and walked over to the water station. The two moms in charge of making sure there was water at all times were gossiping with the other two volunteers at the orange slices table. She opened another pack of the mini water bottles and placed them on the table. She took a deep breath then went back to her station. She made note of the moms that weren't doing what they signed up for, so they could help with the take down at the end of the fun-run.

The elementary school she worked at was organizing a fun-run to collect money for a school wide field trip to the caverns at the end of the year. Genesis had no idea how but she got roped by Dr. Reed, the principal, and helped organize the entire thing. She spent the last month calling places for donations for the fun-run, designing t-shirts for each of the grades, making volunteer schedules and all that on top of her actual work. She got lucky and Jack's parents were able to make the t-shirts as a donation. Jack offered pay for the field trip himself, but Genesis turned him down. He also tried to donate to her class specifically, but she said no.

Genesis sat back at her table and counted up the tallies for the fourth grade class. She took out her iPad and pulled up the spreadsheet she had for the fun-run and went through each student's paper. She heard a commotion, but paid no mind to it. She wanted to finish the tallies so the students that got per lap donations could take their forms home to collect their donations.

A to-go container was set next to her, making Genesis look up from her iPad.

"Hey," Jack said, bending down to give her a chaste kiss.

"No purple." Martín, a student from Genesis's class, said as he walked past the table to get to his friends.

The school was having a free day where students could go to the library to read, go to specific classrooms to do arts & crafts or play games and watch movies. The final option was to just hang outside in the fourth and fifth grade play area. Where the fun-run was taking place.

Genesis covered Jack's hand before he flipped off the five year old. "Leave, Lizbeth's kid alone." She whispered to him.

Lizbeth was one of Genesis and Jack's friends from high school. She was the first (and only) to have a kid out of their friend group and ever since Martín was born, Jack has had some sort of one sided beef with the kid.

"If purple is between a guy and a girl, what about gay and nonbinary people?" Jack asked her.

"Nonbinary people are yellow and I'm not too sure about gay couples." She answered him. She locked her iPad and turned to him. "Why are you here?"

That morning he picked her up from her apartment and drove her to school. He went to deliver the t-shirts Genesis ordered. He told her he couldn't stay because he was going to be at the studio the rest of the morning.

"Damn, I can't see my girl." He scoffed.

Genesis smiled shyly. After her cousin's wedding they decided to give dating a chance. Jack had a few weeks off and they've been spending as much time together before he had to go on the road again. When they told their friends and family they all let out a collective finally.

"I also brought pizza for everyone." Jack pointed toward the new canopy set up. There were piles upon piles of pizza boxes on the tables. He brought his hand down and patted her take-out box. "And I got your boujie ass flats."

"I'm not boujie." She frowned.

"Don't deny it, it's one of the many things I love about you." He said.

"You're annoying," Genesis rolled her eyes at him.

She went back to her work with the tallies then she moved on to making certificates to those that ran the most laps. By then it was time to take down the fun-run.

"You got sunscreen?" Jack asked.

"In my Harry Styles tote." She pointed at the chair next to him.

"Why don't you use my tote?"

"Because yours doesn't have bunnies."

Jack rolled his eyes. He lathered some on his face and made sure to get the back of his neck. He put back the sunscreen and went to go help take down the canopies.

Genesis watched as Jack talked with Dr. Reed. Another person he had beef with. Apparently when he was in fifth grade he went to the school where she worked and when he tried out for the school's annual talent show, Dr. Reed, who was Miss Fox at the time, stopped his performance of Fergalicious and told him he couldn't perform at the talent show. He called her one of his original haters.

At some point Jack took off his jacket and tied it around his waist, showing off his arms in the tight white tee he wore under. It got Genesis worked up. And the way he wore his baseball cap backwards wasn't helping her at all. She thought back to the times he would crash frat parties when he was in town and wore his hats like that. There was something about how curls curved over his hat that made her feral. She took a generous sip from her Hydro Flask as he took off his hat to wipe the sweat off his forehead. Jack shook his head, fluffing his curls, and put his hat back.

After everything was taken down, all the teachers took their students back to their classrooms. There was about fifteen minutes left before school was over.

Jack joined Genesis and sat in the back of her class. He entertained himself by organizing the large crayons in their designated colors. He occasionally looked over to Genesis. She had her class sitting in a large rug as they went around the circle, talking about what they did during the day. He smiled to himself watching how she was in her element. He knew she was one of the few people meant for teaching.

The bell finally rang.

"Alright, have a good weekend and if you got your envelope back please bring it on Monday." She told the students as they got their backpacks. "Also, everyone tell Jack thank you for the pizza and t-shirts."

"Thank you Jack." The class said in unison.

"Pay up." Martín told Jack. He pointed at his paper. "I did this many."

"You did six laps?" Jack asked as he pulled out his wallet.

At a kickback Martín went around the group asking for donations. A few just gave him twenty bucks but Jack told him he'd pay him a hundred for each lap.

"Yeah, pay up." The five year old said in a sassy tone.

"Here." Jack said, placing a thousand dollars in the envelope.

"Miss Ramos, I finished." Martín said, handing Genesis back his envelope.

Genesis frowned at Jack. "Seriously."

"He asked me." Jack said defensively.

"Of course he did."

When they finally pulled up to Jack's house, all bets were off. Genesis climbed over her seat and straddled Jack. She claimed his mouth and began rutting her hips against his.

"G, wait until I turn off the car." Jack laughed. He turned off the ignition and pulled out the key. "Where were we?"

They went back to making out. At some point, Jack had to pull away and led them inside. He picked up the back of her thighs and carried her upstairs. He gently set her down on his bed and began removing his clothes. Genesis followed suit.

"Keep the hat." She said, pushing down her brown cargo pants.

"Yes ma'am." He grinned, sitting against the headboard.

He knew that hat had some sort of effect on her and wore backwards to get her attention. Even before they started dating, she would sit on his lap and play with the ends of his curls.

Genesis straddled him and cupped his cheek, kissing him. She stood on her knees over Jack’s cock. He held her hips and guided her down his cock. Both let out a satisfied moan. Jack gave her hips a few squeezes, letting her know she could move. Genesis held the back of his neck and leaned back on one hand, slowly riding him.

She gently tugged on his curls as she moved her waist. One she was used to him, he lifted his hips to meet her thrusts. She was a moaning mess for him. He pulled her closer to him. Their lips moaning into each other. One of her hands gripped his bicep while the other traveled down to her clit. She rubbed herself.

“Come on, G, let go for me.” He encouraged her.

With that Genesis came. She repeated Jack’s name over and over until her high faded.

"I can take another." She said breathlessly.

She knew Jack hadn't come yet. He nodded and pulled his length out of her and positioned her so that only her ass was in the air for him, so she wouldn't be on all fours. He knelt in front of her and aligned himself to her entrance, slowly pushing himself in her once more. His hands gripped her waist as he slowly rocked into her.

As the minutes passed, his thrusts got rougher, and Genesis couldn’t hold back. She begged Jack to keep fucking her at that irritatingly slow and rough pace she loved. He leaned over, his chest against her back. His lips kissed all over her neck as he continued to fuck Genesis. She rocked back against him, lazily meeting his thrusts.

"That’s it, G." He groaned in her ear.

Jack shifted his hips as he thrusted into her. The new angle hit her in that spot that made her beg for him. She caught sight of Jack in the mirror doors of his closet and nearly came undone by just looking at him. The way his curls clung to his hat. How he tightly gripped her hips as he roughly thrusted into her. How his KY necklace moved erratically with every movement. It made her egged her on.

Genesis pushed back her hips rougher to meet his thrusts. He gripped her hips with one hand while the other went back down to her clit. Jack worked his fingers roughly as he pushed his hips into Genesis. He buried his face in her neck, kissing her sweet spot. Her quiet praises filled the room, egging him on. She quietly whimpered his name, lazily meeting his thrusts before her orgasm took over. Jack’s orgasm followed soon after, pushing himself deep inside.

Jack pulled out and laid on his side. Genesis pulled off his hat and ran her fingers over his drenched curls.

"How was that?" He asked, hovering over her body.

"An A." She giggled.

"Only an A? Let me do some extra credit for an A+ then." He mumbled against her neck.

"You're never gonna quit with the teacher puns are you?" Genesis asked him.

Jack placed her thighs over his shoulders. He looked up at her and grinned mischievously "No, I'm only getting started."

Taglist: @cherry4everrr @heavyhitterheaux @carma-fanficaddict @youngharleezy @youngharleezyxo @babyharleezy @that-90s-girllll @alinaharlow @harlowcomehome @nattinatalia @webinurcloset @gassyandsassy1 @jackharloww @awhore4moree @noescapricho-essentimiento @a-moment-captured @neon-lights-and-glitter @purecinnamonextract @whywontyoulovemecami @camificrecs

#jack harlow #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow smut #jack harlow oneshots #jack harlow oneshot #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfic

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mercurygray · 4 months

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I'm still trying to figure out whatever Cord and Bucky's deal is, and @basilone suggested a slightly different perspective on the scene.

May, 1943. First impressions, as they say, are everything, and Harold Huglin is not impressed.

His mouth still tasted like chalk.

Colonel Huglin breathed in deeply through his nose and tried not to notice the aftertaste. It was nearly lunchtime, and he was simultaneously hungry enough to eat a horse and not in the mood to eat anything at all. His doctor had him on the most bland diet known to man, for the sake of the ulcer, but the milk and calcium carbonate he was also being prescribed wasn’t doing anything to help his appetite. He’d been managing pretty well for the last few days on dry toast and stewed vegetables, but it was May in England, and the chill of springtime was still hanging around the crabapple trees and absolutely cutting through his overcoat.

“It would appear our new Air Executive is late,” he said, testily, glancing out over the field for some sign, any sign, that Egan had remembered that they had a meeting scheduled this morning with the RAF, in advance of the official hand-over of the station.

“Would you like to go inside, sir?” Callaway looked worried about him, even though she herself was in even worse shape than him, out in her service skirt and stockings. “It’s still a little cold out here.”

She said it as an observation, not a complaint, or a request for special treatment. She hadn’t complained once, since they’d arrived - not on the drive over, even though the Jeep was open to the air, and not in the twenty minutes they’d been waiting in the wind. Huglin admired that, even if he didn’t have a way to say it. The lieutenant from Ohio was going to do all right, he thought. Captain Brennan had made a good choice to send her to the meeting today. A good head on her shoulders - a clear eyed way of seeing things that would serve her well, in the control tower. She’d shown up for their meeting on time, in perfect order, and even had a pad of paper to take notes. On the safety of that part of the venture he was perfectly sure. Of everything else?

Well, his Air Executive was late. That was about all he needed to know.

“No, thank you, Lieutenant. We should go in together.” A united front, he wanted to say, even though the Brits were their allies, and this was supposed to be the friendliest of friendly meetings. They were here, and making good on Roosevelt’s promises to Churchill to deliver the full force of American air power to the continent, all for the low, low price of several extra airfields in Norfolk and other points south. But Huglin already knew what the British thought of them - four years late to a show that had started in 1939 and had hardly stopped hitting them on the chin since then.

Four years late - and now late to this, too.

John Egan had come with the greatest of references from Kansas - a glowing career that had started well before Pearl Harbor, an officer who’d worked his way up from the bottom, been a valued instructor and a fixture to his unit. So just who the hell was this man who couldn’t show up to a meeting on time?

The familiar whine of an engine came roaring up from the road, and Huglin and Callaway turned to see a single man drive up in a jeep, crusher cap rakish on his head. He threw the shifter into park, turned off the engine, and pulled his rather tall self out of the Jeep, bounding over the still-thawing mud with his greatcoat flapping open as he went. Disorderly uniform, Huglin thought to himself, observing the way he’d already started shaping his hat. Well then.

“Colonel, hello.” The Major had something of the overgrown schoolboy about him that even the carefully cultivated mustache couldn’t hide. “Sorry to keep you waiting - got stuck behind a herd of cows on the road on the way up here.”

“You’re late, Major. I hope you won’t make it a habit.”

“Of course not, sir. Won’t happen again.” He smiled broadly and turned to take a good look at Callaway, his smile changing pitch a little. “Good morning, gorgeous. I don’t think we’ve met. John Egan. My friends call me Bucky.”

Huglin watched Callaway freeze in place, her expression hard to read. Was that embarrassment, or fear? He couldn’t tell - all he felt at the moment was a rising sense of anger. She had a bar on her shoulder and an eagle on her hat the same as his - so why address her like she was nothing more than the secretary? “Major Egan, this is Lieutenant Callaway, one of our flight control officers. She'll be in charge of the first shift, so she'll be sending the group out most mornings. She’ll be inspecting the site with us this morning.”

Callaway found her voice and held out a gloved hand to shake. “I believe protocol says I should address you as Major, sir.” Huglin smiled at that, the appreciation faint but there as he watched Egan’s smile falter a little as she failed to respond to his charm. At least someone around here knows how things ought to be done.

He glanced again at his watch and swallowed, still tasting chalk. “Right. Let’s go in.”

“After you, sir,” he heard Callaway say behind him, as the two of them fell in behind their CO. “Rank first.” Smart girl, Callaway. Keep that one where you can see him.

#i have written a thing #mercurygraypresents #cordelia callaway #masters of the air OC

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castlebyersafterdark · 1 month

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writing an actual fic about it, but i'm obsessed with ideas about the formative teenage experience surrounding your first car:

- car guy mike! he gets a car junior or senior year and is so so proud of it. of course he drives will to school. and everywhere. he loves opening the door for him, like his smitten nerd ass will speed up ahead to open the door for his boy. will insists that this is unnecessary but he blushes so much every time. -will being the ultimate passenger princess. is there any question? affectionate arguments about music choice, but all will needs to do is pout and bat his lashes and give mike those big brown eyes and he gets his way every time and happily turns the radio to what he wants. feeding mike snacks and drinks on their long roadtrips, doing his job well 😊 -there's a far corner in the hawkins high parking lot, where it's shady under the pine trees. mike parks there, so he and will can sneak off during study hall (or whenever they can't stand it and need to get away) and make out and just have a moment alone. they had to find a new spot after too many close calls in the bathroom stall or their friends almost walking in on them holed up in the AV room. -mike and will love going to the drive in theater. they're both such cinephiles and are torn between actually watching the movie playing on the big screen and scrambling to get into the backseat of the car. mike rarely lasts once will starts trailing a hand up his thigh, higher and higher until he's the first one to break and mike pulls his teasing hand to where he wants it. just kissing and kissing over the center console until they get sick of the gear stick getting in the way, or knocking an arm into the steering wheel horn. -late nights, driving around hawkins. kissing at every red light and stop sign, safe in the dark. mike, usually in such a rush otherwise, dreads the shift into green once the red light turns and he has to pull away and continue driving. red lights are never long enough when will is sitting in his passenger seat. -the awkward coordination the first time things get heated and clothing gets removed. getting tangled up in their garments, long limbs cramped in the small space, but that just means they get to stay as close as possible. laughter when will's laid out on the backseat and they're kissing and grinding and getting lost in each other, and will rolls slightly to the side and ends up halfway stuck between the seat and the floor of the car. it's embarrassing and then it's funny and then it's something else entirely when they reconfigure and shift just so, finding an interesting, wonderful new angle. -lover's lake is too well known, and the cops routinely check the quarry. instead, they drive down the long roads through the fields and farmlands, out to the outskirts of hawkins along the woods, or hidden on dirt roads on abandoned properties. it's summer and the windows are down. they've neglected the radio that night, with the only sounds being the nighttime crickets and cicadas and mingled, heavy breaths and the continuous little whimpers from will as he rides mike, legs splayed on the backseat and mike's lap. this is the only place where they can both be truly, completely alone.

😘

#spicy byler #car guy mike and passenger princess will are so so important btw #expanding on all of this in a full fic at some point...#q

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lunarmoves · 1 year

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these summer nights (chapter one)

pairing: DCA sun/moon/eclipse x reader

mentions: summer camp au, gender neutral reader, alcohol consumption (reader takes a shot), ocs (kind of)

a/n: well it's finally here! and in time for summer too! im so sorry ch1 is such a beast omfg... i tried to split it, but there was no solid point for me to do so, so it ended up over 10k words LOL (<- in agonee). check out the masterlist for more info on the fic (tags & summary). hope u guys enjoy! :D

word count: 11.8k+

masterlist

ao3 link

You’d found the job listing in a Craigslist ad, of all places.

Because who even used Craigslist nowadays anyway? You, apparently, in your boredom and desperation to get a summer job. Your semester was about to end and you’d found yourself looking at a very uneventful, money-less summer. You’d completely forgotten to apply to internships with the whirlwind of work and studying you had to do while school was in session. Which inevitably led to you scrolling through all manners of websites and flipping through newspapers in an attempt to find a job at the last minute that you could possibly do. You needed the money, you had to admit. Bills didn’t pay themselves and the on-campus job you had during the school year unfortunately didn’t carry over into the summer.

At first your eyes had glanced over the ad in the dreary haze that’d come over you due to hours of mindless scrolling. Then you did a double take when you saw the pay. Thirty-five dollars per hour. Thirty-five. What the hell?! That was significantly more than the minimum wage you were earning through your university. If you did this job, you’d be cruising for a bit during your final year in school. It almost made you think it was a scam.

You quickly skimmed through the job’s small blurb. It was for a full-time summer camp counselor at some place called Camp Fazbear. Three months in the woods with a bunch of kids. Hm. You opened a new tab and did a quick search for ‘Camp Fazbear’. Links to an official site popped up. It seemed legitimate—that was good enough for you. Closing the tab, you returned to the job listing and skipped right down to the requirements.

You didn’t really have any experience with children on your resume, but that pay was seriously no joke. And they covered lodging and food for you? Holy shit, it was a steal. It wouldn’t hurt to apply. You might as well, honestly, especially with how unsuccessful you’d been with getting any responses from other internships. A few clicks later, you’d submitted your resume and reference letters through the website’s portal. Your hopes weren’t too high, but you’d be dumb to not at least attempt to get an interview. What was that saying about missing all the shots you didn’t take? Yeah, that.

A few days later, you got a response email asking for your availability for a phone interview. And suddenly, things seemed to be moving a bit too fast for your tastes.

You’d nailed the “interview,” apparently, for you were sent a bunch of papers to sign. Waivers, background checks, contracts, housing agreements. You had to watch some trainee videos, take a drug test, and do a joint CPR and first aid course. And as soon as you were done with your finals, you packed up your things into a large suitcase, settled the sub-leasing for your apartment for the summer, and drove your way down to Camp Fazbear.

It was a bit of a long drive, going from the small city your university was in to the middle of the woods. You watched as concrete and brick buildings were replaced by wide, open fields and vibrant green forestry. You got lost a few times, made a few wrong turns and got off at an exit that you swore was the right one, but eventually you found yourself passing under a large arch over the road that said Welcome to Camp Fazbear. There was some drawing of a bear on it, but you didn’t get a good look at it. Probably the camp mascot or something.

You eventually came up to a security checkpoint. The guard lounging around in the little cabin flashed you a lazy grin and checked your I.D., cross referencing it with a list he had. Then he lifted the gate arm, waved you in, and returned his gaze back to the small T.V. on the desk in front of him. You eased your car back into motion, cruising down the road until you had to make a turn onto a dirt pathway. Not too far now—you were close. Sure enough, a large, wooden lodge appeared as you rounded a corner, surrounded by trees and bushes.

There was an area in front of the lodge that looked like a small parking lot with all the dirt packed down and uniform. There was another small, silver car positioned by a bush. You parked your car in front of a tree with a small parking sign nailed to it, killed the engine, and unbuckled yourself so you could step outside. Immediately, the fresh smell of leaves and grass, wood and earth, invaded your senses. You inhaled deeply and exhaled it all in a deep sigh. The air here was much fresher than the city’s. It made you feel lighter. You closed your car door behind you and clicked your keys to lock it. You didn’t expect anyone to try to rob you all the way out here, but still, habits.

Dirt crunched under the soles of your sneakers as you made your way up the few stairs of the lodge to its entrance. But before you could rap on the door, it swung open of its own accord, a tall, blond-haired man beaming a smile at you.

“Ah, you’re here early!” he said brightly, stepping to the side to wave you in. “Saw you pulling in on the cameras. Come in, come in!” You thanked him and stepped into the air-conditioned room. You recognized his voice as the man who did your phone interview.

“You must be Mr. Emily?” you asked as you spun around to watch him close the door behind you. He was wearing a pair of blue overalls over a white shirt. He nodded and confirmed your own name, then began to walk across the room. It was a small reception area, by the looks of it, with a desk to the left and a few chairs and couches to the right. Potted plants decorated the corners of the room. Fairy lights were strung up over the entrances. Cute.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” Mr. Emily asked you as he led you through the reception area and into a larger room with more seating arrangements that had a rather tall ceiling. A chandelier hung elegantly in the center of it. Interspaced doors lined the wall to your right. Glass windows let in golden sunlight that bathed the area in a warm glow. There was a staircase that led to an upper gallery to the left with more rooms connected to it. Directly across from you was a large set of glass doors that led further into the camp, from what you could see. “I imagine the drive must have been a bit of a long one.”

“I’m fine, thank you. It wasn’t too bad,” you told him, still looking around at all the decor and furnishing. There were some bright stuffed animals sitting on a few of the sofas and loveseats. A wooden smell permeated the air, likely due to the strong oak the building was made of. Mr. Emily led you into one of the rooms along the rightmost wall. It was his office, from the looks of it, with a large L-shaped desk tucked in the far left corner and a few chairs positioned in front of it. Pictures and drawings lined the walls. Most notably, though, were the blueprints he had, either along his desk’s surface, or pinned to the walls.

“Excuse the mess,” he said hastily as he began clearing away some of the blueprints, rolling them up to shove to the side. You couldn’t really make out what was on them, but the ones on the wall looked like… robots? Kind of cool. “I hadn’t expected you to be here so soon! Not an issue, of course. Better early than late!” He shot you a smile that you mirrored as you sat down on one of his chairs.

“Sorry, traffic wasn’t as bad as I’d expected.” You’d left pretty early, too, just in case. You scratched the back of your head and found yourself looking at a little bear plushie that sat on one of the shelves above his desk. Aw.

Mr. Emily waved a hand at you in dismissal as he sat in his desk chair across from you. “All good. Now. I’ve received all your paperwork, of course. Let’s see…” he trailed off as he rummaged around and pulled out some papers from within one of his desk drawers. He started leafing through them. “You did the required training and got your certifications. Good, good. Contract has been signed, a direct deposit has been set up… Excellent.” He mumbled to himself a bit as he clipped the papers together and shoved them into a manilla folder with your name on it. He then set it to the side and looked up at you. “Right! So, since you’re here a bit early, I’ll have one of our more senior counselors give you a tour. I’m waiting for the others to arrive so I can get introductions and the small orientation out of the way.”

You nodded, fidgeting slightly with your fingers. “And the kids haven’t arrived yet, right?”

Mr. Emily shook his head and bent down slightly to grab at something under his desk. “Oh no, no, they’ll be here in a few days. We need to get a few more preparations done and get all the new counselors ready for their duties.” He straightened up and lifted a small tote bag into the air to hand over to you. “Here! Your uniform and a few other things!”

“Thanks.” You grabbed the bag from his hand and looked down at the design on it. There were little suns and moons all over it. Peeking through the top of the bag, you saw two collared orange shirts tucked inside along with a little nametag and a water bottle. There was also a keychain and some stickers. Your gaze softened. How nice! “I’m assuming I have to wear the shirt every day?”

“Yes,” Mr. Emily confirmed. “It makes it easier for kids to locate their assigned counselor. You’re allowed to wear any sort of pants with it, be it jeans or khakis or shorts.”

You bobbed your head alongside the information you were receiving and opened your mouth to ask a question. But before you could get it out, there was a knock at the door.

“Enter!” Mr. Emily called out, and you turned around to see another man walk into the office. He was rather tall, with light brown hair that appeared even lighter in the sunlight, tanned skin, and dark blue eyes that immediately landed on you. He gave you a smile. Mr. Emily clapped his hands together. “Ah! Michael! Perfect timing.”

“This one of the newbies?” Michael asked with a bit of an English accent, quirking an eyebrow up at you as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his blue jeans.

You introduced yourself. “Am I gonna be known as a newbie for the entire summer?”

Michael grinned at you. “Pretty much. But hey, at least you’re not the only one.” You sighed to show your reluctant acceptance.

“Michael here will give you that tour I’d mentioned,” Mr. Emily told you as he stood up from his desk chair and started gently ushering the two of you out. You stood up and patted your pockets down to make sure you still had your phone, keys, and wallet. You did. “Go on, I still have much to do. I’ll contact Michael once the others have arrived so you both can come back here. Off you go!”

“Alright, alright, see ya Henry.” Michael waved a hand as he exited the office with you trailing behind him. You gave Mr. Emily a farewell, your tote bag slung over your shoulder, and jogged to catch up to Michael while he walked towards the exit leading to the rest of the camp.

“He seems nice,” you mused out loud, stepping outside into the warm sunlight and slight breeze wafting through the air. Ah, this was nice.

“Who, Henry? Yeah, he’s great,” Michael replied with a faint smile. He made his way down the stairs of the lodge and started leading you across a wide, open space. “Crazy smart, too. He could be doing anything, and yet he’s here.” There was a moment where Michael looked thoughtful, but then he shook it away. “Anyways. Welcome to Camp Fazbear, where happiness and fun come to life, yadda yadda. This is the main pavilion area.” He waved his hand across the large space you were in. There were hardly any trees apart from the ones lining the pavilion’s perimeter. A couple campfire pits were spread out here and there, surrounded by massive logs and a few chairs. There were some picnic tables as well.

Michael pointed to another large, wooden building to the left of the space. “That’s the main mess hall. It’s where the kids go for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Err… oh! There’s a map over here if you wanna check it out.” He walked over to a large board to the side of the mess hall that had a map on it protected by glass. You stepped up closer so you could observe it.

“Man, this place is huge,” you commented as your eyes raked over the map. A ziplining area, lake, pool, field, rope course, bathhouses, and a bunch of other miscellaneous buildings were just a few of the things that greeted you. Shit, you hadn’t expected it to be this big. It was kind of scary, but also very exciting. You’d give anything to be a kid staying at this place for the summer—it looked like it would be a hell of a time.

Michael snorted. “Yeah. Makes it a pain when you have to walk everywhere.” He gestured at you to follow him and the two of you continued your way across the pavilion and onto a path lined with more trees. There were a bunch of other workers milling about, likely helping to get the camp ready for opening in a few days. Most of them looked busy, but a few offered you and Michael a smile or little wave in greeting. At least the people here were nice.

“So… you’re a college student, right?” Michael asked you after a moment of silence interrupted by the occasional crunching dirt or snapping twig under your shoes.

“Yeah, going in the final year for my Master’s program.” You couldn’t help but let your gaze drift about, taking in the way the honey-colored sunlight filtered through the green canopies above you. It was gorgeous. Very scenic. You could get used to this.

He hummed. “I’m a fourth year grad student. A lot of our counselors are college aged, if not most. ‘S why we have a kinda high turnover rate. People graduate and go off to do other things.” Grad student? You wondered what he was getting his PhD in.

“Makes sense.” You paused as you remembered one of the questions you had. “Actually, what do you guys do when it’s not summer? Close down everything?”

Michael shook his head and watched a bird fly overhead through the leaves. “Nah. Well, we close for two months, but then we reopen as a winter resort kind of thing. We get a lot of snow over here. Then we close again for another two months and open back up the summer camp.”

“That’s pretty cool,” you admitted, thinking about all the work that must go into switching from a camp to a resort. “Seems like a lot to do, though.”

“Oh for sure”—Michael shot you a grin—“but we have hardworking people, so it works out.”

It’s a minute before you both emerge into another open space, this one with brightly colored cabins positioned around it. You recognized the characters on some of the cabins as being the same as the stuffed animals you saw in the first lodge.

“Who are all those characters?” you asked, pointing to one of the cabins that had a white and pink chicken painted on it that matched its similarly-colored decor. “Are they all camp mascots? I thought there was only the bear.”

Michael gave you an odd look and stopped in front of the cabins, where there was another small fire pit with benches around it in a circle. “Mascots? No? Those are the main counselors.”

You gave him an odd look back. “What.” You thought you were the main counselor—or one of them, anyways.

He stared at you. You stared at him. “What do you mean ‘what’? Didn’t you read the job description?”

At that, your look turned slightly sheepish. “Um, I may or may not have skimmed it and any paperwork Mr. Emily sent to me.” Embarrassment crept up your neck and into your cheeks. Maybe you should have read through things more carefully…

Michael’s look turned incredulous. “Okay, first of all, ew, call him Henry, he’s not that old. Second of all, did you really accept this job without fully researching it? Did nothing about the animatronics pop up during your interview??”

“Listen, I was desperate,” you half-heartedly argued. “And no. It wasn’t much of an interview, honestly. He just confirmed my information and asked me about my availability and background.” Animatronics?? What did you get yourself into?

Michael blinked slowly at you, then raised a hand to his forehead. “Incredible. I’m actually impressed. I don’t know how you dodged this information.” He shook his head slowly and gestured to the cabins. “Those characters are the main summer counselors. They’re all robots with self-learning A.I. Your job is as a counselor, sure, but it’s mainly to support them and act as a handler of sorts for who you get paired with.”

Self-learning A.I.? You knew robots were a thing that was slowly becoming more integrated and accepted in society, but you didn’t expect a summer camp of all places to have them. “You’re joking,” you said flatly. Michael gave you a deadpanned look. “You’re not joking.”

“Nope. I told you Henry’s a genius.” He shrugged his shoulders and turned to look at the cabin with that familiar brown bear on it.

“How did parents even agree to this type of thing?” you wondered. You could see how sending kids to a three-month long camp where most of their supervision would come from robots would seem rather… extreme. Especially for those with less progressive perspectives.

“That’s the thing,” Michael replied, “not all of them were entirely comfortable with it. And the government got on our arses for all-robot counselors, so we had to hire human handlers. It’s worked so far.” He gave you a shrug.

“That’s fuckin’ crazy, dude,” you finally blurted out after you took a few moments to process everything. “Robot counselors. I feel like I’m in the future.”

Michael let out a deep laugh that made you perk up slightly. It sounded nice. “I’ve gotten used to it by now. They’re honestly no different than working with people—maybe even better.” He pointed to the cabin on the far left decorated in red, purple, and gray with a wolf painted on it. “That’s Roxanne, Roxy for short. The next one is Chica’s.” Oh that’s who the chicken was. Made sense. His finger moved along. “Then Montgomery, or Monty.” The alligator’s cabin was painted with greens and purples. “Freddy Fazbear himself.” At least now you had a name for the bear and his orange and blue cabin. “And finally Sundrop and Moondrop. Sun and Moon for short.”

That last cabin was half painted in yellows and oranges while the other half was in grays and dark blues. You raised an eyebrow at the two animatronics painted on their respective sides—they looked like polar opposites, though they both had a crescent moon across the same side of their face—and turned to give Michael a confused look. “Why does that cabin have two of them?” It was a sharp contrast from the others.

“Oh, Sun and Moon are one animatronic. Sun comes out during the day, and Moon comes out at night. It’s a cool light sensitivity mechanic,” Michael explained to you, causing an ooohhh to escape your lips. You had to agree; that was pretty cool.

“So where are they now?” you asked, your eyes looking about as though you could catch a glimpse of the animatronics, wherever they were. Now that you knew they were part of the camp, you were excited to meet them—if a bit nervous.

“They’re in rest mode, charging up for later.” Michael took that moment to glance at his watch. “Speaking of which, we should move on if we wanna hit everything before Henry radios.”

You nodded and followed alongside Michael as he guided you past the cabins to point out the bathhouses (“Your cabin room has your own bathroom attached to it, so you won’t have to share with the kids,” he told you amusedly after spotting the less-than-pleased look on your face) and additional storage buildings. He took you practically around the entire camp, leading you past the lake and its boathouse, the pool, a giant field for miscellaneous activities with a playground tucked in one corner, and the ziplining area. You were certain that you would get lost in the first few days—maybe even weeks—of being here, but at least you wouldn’t be completely alone.

As you were both slowly making your way back around to the main lodge, Michael told you about some of the security measures Camp Fazbear had. He pointed out a few of the hidden cameras in the forestline in addition to the more obvious ones perched at the top of the solar-powered lamp posts. There sure was a lot of security. You wondered why. “There’s a cutoff point in the woods where kids can’t go past. It’s obvious where it is, since there’s a bunch of signs and cameras around the perimeter, but we usually don’t have issues with kids wandering past it by accident.”

You hummed, eying the blinking red dot on one of the surveillance cameras as you both walked by it. Michael continued, “The animatronics are connected to the cameras anyways, so they’ll be instantly alerted just in case, but they can’t really cross the boundary line unless one of the exceptions in their protocols are reached.” He paused for a moment and scratched his head. “Henry’ll probably go over all this in the orientation. Sorry, I know it’s a lot of info.”

“That’s okay, it’s kinda interesting,” you admitted. “I didn’t expect Camp Fazbear to be so… high tech. I thought it was a regular old summer camp, y’know? Like, ‘no technology for three months’ type of thing.”

Michael chuckled. The two of you stepped off the pathway through the woods you were following and back onto the main pavilion. There were more uniformed people bustling around here, carrying boxes of this and that. “Well, with robot counselors it was kind of a given that the camp would be a bit atypical.” You gave him a look that practically screamed oh really? He snorted, then added, “Besides, we still confiscate phones, so it’s still kinda no tech for the summer.”

“Aw, really?” you complained lightheartedly, one of your hands covering the pocket your phone was in defensively. “Counselors too?”

“Yeah”—Michael tossed an apologetic look your way—“Have to set an example for the kids, after all.”

“Booo, hissss.”

“Yeah, yeah, complain all you want— Oh! I forgot to point this out earlier. That’s the maintenance building over there.” Michael pointed to a slightly smaller building hidden past the large mess hall. You hadn’t even noticed it. “At the end of every week the animatronics need to do a maintenance check. Just a scan to make sure all their systems are working properly. So it’ll be up to you to make sure they’re functioning as they should.” Oh man, this was a lot to keep track of.

“I should make a checklist or something,” you murmured, more to yourself than Michael, but he laughed anyway.

“Yeah, that’s what I did when I first started out.” There it was again, that same thoughtful expression on his face. It was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. You wondered what he was thinking about.

Just then, the walkie-talkie clipped to Michael’s waist—that you realized had been partially hidden under his shirt this whole time—gave a little bzzt before a familiar voice floated out of it. “Henry to Michael.”

Michael unclipped the walkie and held it up to his mouth. “Yo.”

“Everyone’s here, right on time. Head back to the lodge, over.”

“On our way, over.” Michael glanced at you as he reclipped the walkie to his jeans. “We timed this perfectly, it seems. C’mon, it’s orientation time.”

It was a short walk across the pavilion back to the lodge. Michael led the way up the small set of wooden stairs and through the doors, aiming for Henry’s office. He’d left the door open, and once you and Michael stepped through, you were able to see the three other people crammed into the space around Henry’s desk. They all turned around to look at you and Michael. The sudden attention made you plaster a polite smile onto your face. You held onto the shoulder of your tote bag and said a quiet “Hello.” You got a few nods in response.

“That was fast!” Henry said cheerfully from his desk chair. He gestured at the two of you to step in closer. “Come in, let’s get you all introduced. Close the door, Michael.” A quiet creak preceded the click of the door shutting. You shuffled as close as you dared to the backs of the chairs two people were sitting on and looked at Henry as he started speaking again. “Okay! We can start with a little icebreaker.” Aw man, you hated icebreakers. “Name and favorite summertime activity. I’ll go first! My name is Henry and I like to hike! Who’s next?”

The five of you remaining all glanced at each other before Michael decided to be the first victim and take one for the team. He cleared his throat. “Name’s Michael. I like drive-in movies.” He nudged you in the side and you took that as a sign that it was your turn. You introduced yourself and gave your favorite activity. Then you looked expectantly to the man standing to your left.

“Vincent,” he said in a drawling voice. He was a dark-skinned brunet with long hair that was pulled in a tiny ponytail at the back of his head. Black eyes swiveled around the room in disinterest, arms crossed over the purple shirt he was wearing. “I like… fuck if I know. Swimming, I guess.” He gave a half-hearted shrug and pointedly looked at the man sitting on the chair in front of you.

“M-My name’s Jeremy,” he introduced himself with the slightest of stutters, his fingers fidgeting with each other. Jeremy looked like a small thing, sitting in that office chair. He had wavy, blond hair messily scattered upon his head and hazel eyes that darted away quickly once they made eye contact with someone else’s. His skin was a light brown shade, and he was wearing a plaid shirt that matched his eyes along with some dark jeans. “I like… staying inside, mostly. Playing video games.” That was so valid of him, you thought to yourself.

The last person to go was a blonde woman with vibrant green eyes that looked sharper than a pro chef’s kitchen knife. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail underneath the cap she wore. Lightly tanned skin poked out from the long-sleeved shirt she had on; you wondered how she wasn’t absolutely sweltering in it. She sniffed slightly. “I’m Vanessa,” she said flatly. “I guess I like the beach.”

“Excellent! Wonderful to have you all here,” Henry said immediately after Vanessa got her last syllable out. “Vincent, Jeremy, and Michael are our three veteran counselors, so that makes you two our newbies for the summer!” He looked at you and Vanessa, then offered a wink. “Don’t worry, you won’t be known as the newbies for the entire summer!”

“Only most of it,” Vincent added with a smirk. Henry gave him a look that wasn’t all too serious, then continued on with his little spiel.

“Anyways,” he continued pointedly, “I’ll spend the next hour or so going over basic orientation things. I will supply you all with packets you can use that will contain the most important information. It’s a lot to take in, so it’ll be good for you to study it in the next coming days before the children start to arrive.” He said that last bit mostly to you and Vanessa. You both nodded to show you were listening and understood.

Henry passed out said packets from a pile in one of his desk drawers, then started off the orientation. He was right—it really was a lot of information to take in. What your days would look like, how you’d keep track of the children, what to do in the case of an emergency, who to contact if you needed help… just your general camp guidelines. You found yourself losing focus halfway through and had to pinch yourself to keep aware. A quick glance at the others showed that they were also either completely tuned out (Vincent) or raptly listening (Jeremy). Thank god all this information was in the packet. You’d definitely have to study it later.

Then, Henry started talking about the animatronic counselors. This—for obvious reasons—immediately piqued your interest.

“The main counselors are connected to a secure database with all the children’s information on it,” Henry explained, making small gestures here and there with his hands. “They have facial recognition software, so they can easily keep track of whoever they are assigned to. They have sensors built in the backs of their heads and are able to tune in to the right radio frequency to communicate via the walkie talkies. They can also access the security cameras. There are charging stations located in every building in the event that they must rest and recharge.”

He flipped through a few files on his desk and pulled out a picture. You and Vanessa leaned closer to peer at it. “This is what the stations look like.” It was a large, dark orange tube with a lightning bolt on it that looked like something straight out of a futuristic movie. Weird. You wondered how much electricity it required to power it.

He then went on to explain the maintenance checks and how they are carried out—just like Michael said he would. Apparently, you also had to help wipe them down at the end of every day to ensure none of the children would get sick from germs and to get rid of any dirt that may have accumulated from being outside all day.

“You will each get assigned to one of the animatronics for the summer. Your job will be to assist them and ensure things are going smoothly, though keep in mind that they are the main ones in charge,” Henry informed all of you, though honestly, this was all likely more for your and Vanessa’s benefit. “If you look at the bags I have given you, you will see a specific design on them. This design matches with the animatronic you will be paired with.” A quick glance at everyone else showed that they were indeed holding onto similar tote bags. But before you could see who had what robot, Henry started speaking again. “I already called them over a bit ago. They should be waiting for us outside my office.”

Your eyes snapped over to Henry as he stood up from his desk and started making his way over to his office door. “Wait— we’re meeting them now?” That bubble of nervous excitement was starting to rear its head again.

“Of course!” he replied cheerfully, pausing momentarily just before the door. “Nothing to be worried about! They’re rather nice!” With that, he threw open his door and bustled through, not waiting for the rest of you to gather your things so you could follow. Michael and Vincent were already long gone by the time you had stuffed your packet into your tote bag. Vanessa and Jeremy had already gotten up and moved around you to leave, seemingly not an ounce of nerves in their steps. You took in a deep breath and followed after them, immediately locating the animatronics hanging around the seating arrangements in the middle of the large room.

The first thing you noticed was their heights—even with some of them sitting around on the couches. They were fucking massive.

Vincent had strolled right up to Monty and was giving him a sharp grin that was mirrored right back at him as they grasped each other’s hands as though in an airborne arm wrestle. Vincent was a pretty tall guy, but standing next to Monty, he looked kind of short. “Looks like it’s me and you again this summer, huh big guy?” Vincent smiled in a mischievous way that just spelled out trouble. Uh oh. Before you could hear Monty’s reply, Chica sprang up from her seat and rushed over to Jeremy, calling his name out loudly.

“You’re here!” she squealed as she immediately latched onto him for a hug. Jeremy stumbled a bit; he was only able to stay upright due to Chica holding onto him. “Oh we’re gonna have sooo much fun!!”

You smiled at their interaction, then noticed Michael was talking to Freddy and Henry in a corner. The animatronic bear practically towered over them. At least Chica was shorter, you noted as you eyed her again. Not by much, but at least she didn’t loom over Jeremy.

Your eyes then found Vanessa as she trailed over to Roxy, who was still sitting on one of the couches, inspecting her nails. Vanessa stopped somewhere near Roxy and then they seemed to just look at each other. Awkward. You didn’t envy that interaction. You tore your eyes away so you could look around some more at the conversing pairs of counselors.

That just left you and—

“Helloooo!!! New friend!!”

You turned to your left and immediately had a mini heart attack as your gaze darted up, your head soon following until it was almost craned back.

Sun was fucking tall.

If you thought the other animatronics were big, that was nothing in the face of Sun. His gangly body and limbs seemed to make him appear even taller than he actually was. You were practically swamped in his shadow. He leaned down closer to you once he noticed you’d stepped back to increase the distance between the two of you—if only to ease the muscles of your neck. His face was just inches away from your own. Oof. You tried not to cringe back. His head spun slightly to the left in a way that was not natural for a human, and there was a moment where his wide, white optics briefly flickered blue pupils into view that traversed up and down your body. You blinked at him in confusion, but didn’t say anything.

“Scan complete!” he chirped after a moment in that peppy voice of his, eyes returning back into that bright white. Scan? What the hell? “Oh, new friend, we are so excited you’re finally here! We’re going to have so much fun this summer! We’ll be the best of friends by the end of it!”

“Y-Yeah,” you agreed—the right thing to say, if his excited wiggle was any indication. The large grin on his face seemed to stretch wider, blinding you with its brightness. He had ribbons with bells on them attached to his wrists, and they gave a little jingle as he moved to clasp his hands together. It was amazing how human-like he seemed. Henry really was a genius.

Speaking of Henry—the man clapped his hands together to gather everyone’s attention. You turned around to look at him, a silence befalling the room just before he began to speak.

“Okay guys, now that you’ve all been introduced to each other, you can head over to your cabins and settle in. Today’ll be a bit of a slow day, but tomorrow I’ll need all hands on deck for preparations. Just take it easy for now. You’ll get your radios and keycards tomorrow.” Henry turned to look at Roxy to address her, who raised an eyebrow in question. “Vanessa will need a tour after she’s unpacked, so you can give it to her. But other than that, you’re all free to go.”

“Finally,” Vincent groaned, his hands crossed behind his head as he turned around to make his way back to the reception area of the lodge. Monty trailed after him with a wicked smile and clapped the man so hard on the shoulder he nearly tipped over.

“Guess me ‘nd you got some catchin’ up to do, huh?” Monty laughed—a rough, mean-sounding thing—when Vincent shot him a halfhearted glare. They seemed pretty tight; it made something twinge in the pit of your stomach. The feeling would pass, though, you were certain. A quick glance around the room showed that Michael, Henry, and Freddy were discussing something together as they headed towards Henry’s office. Camp logistics, probably. Vanessa and Roxy had both disappeared in the direction of the main pavilion, likely to get that tour started. Meanwhile, Chica had grabbed Jeremy by the wrist and was dragging him after Vincent and Monty to join them in the reception room. Everyone just seemed to jump right into things—together.

Before you could ruminate on the relationships between the older counselors and their robotic partners, something stepped into your line of sight. You looked up from staring at Jeremy’s retreating back to see Sun, who gave you a bright grin as he leaned back down into your space. Again. This time, you shifted back slightly. He was awfully close. Did he have a concept of personal space? “New friend,” he started eagerly, “allow me to accompany you to our cabin to help you unpack!”

You blinked at him once in surprise, then gave him a smile. “Sure! Lemme just go grab my stuff real quick.”

“Right-o!” Sun straightened up and gave you a salute that was more endearing than you thought would be possible from a seven and a half foot robot. You stepped around him and started making your way over to the entrance of the lodge, where your car was still parked outside. Directly behind you was the sound of heavy footsteps. A quick glance over your shoulder showed that you’d gained a shadow: Sun happily followed you, practically bouncing with each step. Alright then.

As you passed through the reception area, you saw that Jeremy and Vincent had the foresight to leave their belongings by the desk so they wouldn’t have to go back outside to the little parking area. You guessed they were just used to it by now. You breezed by them as they hoisted bags over their shoulders and passed suitcases over to their robot partners. Stepping through the front door, you immediately noticed the addition of two new cars of varying sizes and colors crammed into the space in front of the lodge. You wondered if some of your coworkers had carpooled. Seemed like it.

The steps creaked under your shoes as you beelined for your car, taking your keys out in the process to unlock it with a beep beep. You pulled out your backpack from the backseat first and folded up your tote bag as much as you could so you could stuff it inside. It just barely fit. You slung the backpack over your shoulders, closed the door, then walked to the back of your car to pop open the trunk and heave out your suitcase.

It wasn’t until you’d slammed the trunk shut that you finally glanced to the side to see Sun patiently standing on the front porch of the lodge, hands clasped behind his back as he watched you with that wide grin. You thought he would have followed you all the way to your car, but you guessed not. Like this, you were able to properly take in the sheer height of his figure and what he was wearing. Puffy, sun-patterned pants covered his legs while his skinny torso was bare and on full display. His rays spun around slightly as you locked your car up once more and dragged your suitcase over the dirt to step back into the lodge.

Once you’d reached the bottom of the small set of stairs, though, Sun leaned forward without stepping away from his spot and reached out a hand to grab your suitcase from you. “Let me help you with that, new friend!” he said cheerfully and lifted it up towards him. He held your suitcase by the handle on its side, not bothered by the weight whatsoever. You marveled at the robotic strength in his lithe limbs. Fascinating.

“Oh! Thanks, Sun!” You beamed at him and hopped up the stairs so you could follow him back through the lodge. By now everyone had disappeared, likely to their own cabins. “You didn’t have to! I appreciate it.”

“Anything to make your transition into Camp Fazbear easier!” He turned his head down to look at you as you followed his strides at his side—to the best of your ability, anyways. Man, he had long legs. He slowed down slightly for you and you gave him a quick thankful grin. You both exited out onto the main pavilion and started making your way across it. “Have you received your tour of the facilities yet?”

You nodded, hoisting your backpack up so it sat better on your shoulders. “Yep! Michael gave it to me already. I got here a bit early.” You raised one of your hands up to shield your face from the sun. It was bright out.

Sun seemed to droop down in an almost dramatic manner—a motion that made you glance up at him curiously. “Aww, that’s a shame! I’d wanted to give it to you!” Was he disappointed? The robot was disappointed. You gave him a consoling pat on his arm.

“It’s okay, dude. You can give me a tour of the cabin.” At your words, he sprang back up easily—rejuvenated. It was kind of funny. You suppressed a smile.

“That’s right!” he beamed and bounded forward. His head did a complete 180 so that he was looking back at you as he skipped ahead—an action that took you by surprise, but well, he was a robot with a rather spindly neck. “Come, new friend! Race ya there!”

“Wha— Sun! Wait up!” you called out as you gripped your bag by its straps and jogged after him, careful not to jostle your belongings too much.

It was no doubt that Sun—with his long limbs unbothered by the weight of the suitcase he was carrying—beat you by a long shot to the cabins. You huffed out a breath of air as you skidded to a stop next to him and leaned down to brace yourself against your knees. “You’re— pretty fast,” you puffed out. Sun grinned down at you, patiently waiting for you to collect yourself. You straightened up and wiped some sweat from your brow. “That was hardly much of a competition!”

His sun rays spun around his head in a flair that made you suppress a little laugh. “I’m sure by the end of the summer you’ll have me beat!!”

“Doubt it,” you snorted and gestured at him to go up the stairs of the yellow and navy cabin you’d be staying in for the summer. He bounded up to the wooden door—it had a crescent moon inside a sun carved into it—and opened it with a dramatic flourish as you trudged heavily behind him.

“After you!” he chirped with a bow, his arm across his chest.

“Why thank you!” you replied with a grin, charmed by his politeness. You stepped past the open doorway and let out a small whistle once you swept your gaze around the interior of the cabin. “Wow! It’s big!”

It really was—the outside of it made it seem much smaller than it actually was, especially with how high the sloped ceiling was. The cabin, similar to its exterior decor, was painted gold with red stripes on the left and navy with yellow stars on the right. There were bunk beds lined along the walls with sheets that were a sky blue and had puffy clouds on them. A quick mental calculation lets you know that there were ten bunk beds total, each with their own little dressers next to them. That made it, what, twenty kids tops? The idea of being in charge of so many was a bit intimidating, but you supposed you could handle it with Sun’s help.

“Welcome to our humble abode!” Sun announced as he stepped inside after you and closed the door. He walked further in until he was in the center of the room and brandished his free hand about. The bell tied to his wrist let out a small jingle with the movement. “Here is the main room with all the kids’ beds! Shoes are allowed inside, but not on top of the beds and sheets. Every Sunday, we do a weekly cleaning of the cabin to get the children used to tidying up after themselves and to ensure the floors don’t get too dirty!”

You nodded along with the information and followed Sun as he made his way further into the cabin. There was a door tucked in a far corner along the left wall. He opened it and gestured for you to go inside. As you did so, you noticed it led to another, smaller room. There was a bed to your left that had a small nightstand next to it, along with a wooden armoire to your right. A window with its curtains drawn across from where you stood allowed warm sunlight to filter across the polished, wooden floor.

But what really caught your attention was the large, orange tube positioned in the far right corner, by the window.

“Uh,” you started eloquently as you pointed to the charging station that looked as though it was currently off. “What’s that doing in here?”

“Hm?” Sun ducked into the small room after you, walking over to set your suitcase down by your bed. The ceiling in here was much lower than the one in the main room, so he had to stoop down a bit. But even then, the tips of his sunrays brushed against it. He retracted them further into his faceplate, then looked to see what you were pointing at. “Ah! Yes. That’s our charging station!”

“I know that,” you said gently, wondering if your question hadn’t been clear enough for him to hear or something. “But what’s it doing in… my room??” It was a little… strange. You didn’t think you’d have a roommate, albeit a robotic one.

Sun fidgeted with his hands, swaying gently side to side in an animated motion that you wondered was programmed into him. “Oh! It used to be out in the main room. But! It was distracting for the children, especially when we recharged at night! No, no, it was better to put it in here! More privacy as well!” He gave you a smile that was thin at the edges. His fingers twitched slightly, then he was back to giving you a bright, beaming grin and that thinness was gone like it had never been there in the first place. “Think of it like a slumber party, new friend!”

You stared at him for a moment, then shrugged. How bad could rooming with him be? You doubted you’d spend much time in here anyways. “Alright then.” Your words seemed to ease some invisible tension in him, for he slumped down, then bounded right back up. He nearly hit his head on the ceiling, but managed to stop himself just in time.

“Great!” he exclaimed. You gave him a smile, then looked around the room once more. There was another closed door to the left of the one you’d just come through. You supposed that was the bathroom Michael had mentioned to you earlier. But before you could walk over to it to inspect the shower (hopefully it was clean), Sun started talking again. “Take all the time you need to unpack! I would advise against lying on your bed, though! We need to wash the sheets—as well as the ones in the main room. There’s a small laundry room over there!”

You followed his finger as he pointed out of the open doorway that led into the main room. Directly across from you, against the right wall of the main room, was another closed door. In-unit laundry machines were a blessing, though you supposed with twenty-something kids also using them, it would get messy pretty fast. You sighed.

“Well…” You walked over to your suitcase and set your bag down on your bed, resigning yourself to the arduous task of unpacking. Sun’s gaze followed you, his head spinning in an inhuman way to track your steps. You stretched out your arms and shoulders, then settled your hands on your hips. “Best to get started then.”

Later that evening—after you’d unpacked your bags and resheeted your bed once they’d been properly washed—there was the sound of your cabin’s front door banging open as someone loudly called out your name. Who the fuck could that be? You paused and lifted yourself from your bed, where you’d been aimlessly scrolling through your phone and internally bemoaning the fact that you’d have to part with it in a few days. After a few seconds of staring at your open bedroom door, you eventually jammed on some flip flops and shuffled to the door to check it out.

“Yo! Newbie!” Vincent grinned at you once you’d walked out of your room to see who it was. Well, that was a bit of a surprise. You raised an eyebrow at him as he lifted up a hand at you in greeting. “You busy?”

“Not really,” you responded after a moment of contemplating if you had anything major to do. Sun had left a bit ago before it got dark, chiming out something about having a few tasks to get done, so you’d been left alone for a while. Your head tilted to the side. “Why?”

Vincent pointed behind him at the open doorway that led outside. “Everyone’s hangin’ around the firepit if you wanna join. Kind of a tradition we have before all the kiddos roll in.”

Oh? You perked up. “Sure! Sounds fun.” You’d take any chance to get closer with everyone else.

“Awesome, c’mon then.” He waved his hand at you and turned on his heel to make his way back outside. You stuck your phone in your pocket and followed, pulling the door shut behind you before you walked down the cabin’s wooden stairs. By now the sky had taken on a midnight gradient, the last vestiges of burnt mandarin light peeking just above the woods’ canopies as deep navy and purple swept across everywhere else. You took a moment to appreciate the twinkles of white, red, and yellow that filled the sky—the nebular clouds that looked as though they’d been delicately painted there. Living in a city never allowed you the chance to see just how gorgeous the night sky was, and you knew you’d spend all the time you could while you were working here to look up at the stars.

You followed Vincent as he made his way over to the fire pit in front of the cabins. By “everyone” you soon realized he’d meant the rest of the human counselors, for you couldn’t see a gleam of metal anywhere. You wondered what the animatronics were doing—recharging, maybe.

You took a seat on one of the stone benches around the fire pit, next to Michael who greeted you with a small smile. On the bench directly across from you sat Jeremy and Vanessa. They’d already gotten a fire going, and you watched as hazy smoke curled up lazily towards the dark sky from the flickering flames.

“Right!” Vincent exclaimed as he sat down on the bench to your left and started rummaging around in a black bag that had previously been placed there. “We’re all college-aged here, yeah?”

You were sure he was asking just to confirm if you and Vanessa were. You both nodded and watched as Vincent pulled out a tall, glass bottle from the confines of his bag. Shades of orange and red from the fire gleamed across its surface, reflecting the dancing flames. Uh oh.

“Bro, Ciroc? Really?” Michael groaned as he reached out a hand and curled his fingers at Vincent so he could pass the bottle over. Once the container was in his hands, Michael turned it around so he could read the label. “And coconut-flavored too? You know this tastes like shite, man.”

“What? You prefer the Malibu from last time?” Vincent bit back at Michael, rummaging around in his bag once more so he could pull out some red solo cups and another bottle of juice. Michael made a face and that was all the response Vincent needed. “We gotta initiate the newbies somehow.” What.

“Huh?” you eloquently asked, eyes widening slightly when you noticed Vincent had taken back the bottle of Ciroc and was pouring a shot into two of the solo cups. No mixer either? Fuck.

“...Do we have to?” Vanessa asked in a surly voice. “Vodka’s nasty.”

“Yes,” Vincent said at the same time Michael said “No.” They both looked at each other.

“You don’t have to if you really don’t want to,” Michael said quickly—his gaze flicked between you and Vanessa—before Vincent could get a word in. The other man rolled his eyes, but nodded his head in agreement.

“But then you’d have to do something else,” Vincent added and extended both his arms towards you and Vanessa. He wiggled the solo cups within his hands at you. “C’mon, one shot’s not that bad. I’m going easy on ya.”

“If it’s any consolation,” Jeremy piped up, making your stare move from the cup to his face, “I refused to take a shot of Vincent’s Jungle Juice once and he made me do a polar plunge into the lake.” You gave him a sympathetic look as Vincent started to roar with laughter.

“Oh man! That was a good night! I still say you should’ve taken the shot!” he managed to get out through his laughs. Jeremy gave him an incredulous look.

“I-I’m pretty sure that would have killed me!”

After hearing that… you’d honestly rather just take the shot and get it over with. You didn’t even want to entertain the idea of what else Vincent would make you do as an ‘initiation’.

“Fine.” You sighed as you leaned over and grabbed the cup from Vincent’s hand. “At least it’s just one, I guess.”

Vincent grinned at you as you settled back down in your seat. “Yeah, see? You get it!”

Looking over at Vanessa, you saw that she too had decided to just take the shot and get it over with. You raised your cup into the air at her in a cheers, then tilted your head back so you could swallow the shot in one go. Immediately, you felt the vodka burn at your mouth and throat—all the way down to your stomach, where it settled in hotly like it was lava. God, that was foul.

You spluttered a bit and waved your empty cup at Vincent, trying not to breathe in too deeply just yet. “Juice! Juice!”

“Alright, alright!” he snickered and took your cup from you so he could fill it with a generous amount of juice. He handed it back to you. “Hey, good job, newbie!”

You gulped down half of your drink to chase away the lingering taste of alcohol and coconut. Something patted you on the back and you peeked to the side to see it was Michael. You gave him a grateful look and finally lowered your cup. “Thanks, I hated it.”

“Surprisingly, that was better than some of the other shit I had back in college,” Vanessa noted. You looked up to her to see her looking down into her empty solo cup, just as unbothered as before, if not a bit bored. Seemed like she had taken it better than you had. Vanessa, you decided at that moment, was cool.

Vincent gave her a smirk that was just lined with mischief. “Up for another one, then?”

“I’ll pass,” she immediately declined and set her empty cup down next to her.

Vincent only shrugged and started pouring some more of the Ciroc into three other cups along with some juice. “Suit yourself. Who knows when we’ll be able to have drinks again once the kids move in.”

“Knowing you? Sooner rather than later,” Michael scoffed as he rolled his eyes in good nature. Vincent gave him a sly smile, but didn’t say anything else.

As he passed out the drinks to Michael and Jeremy, you piped up again with a question that’d briefly been on your mind earlier. “So… what are you guys all majoring in, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Not at all! I’m studying robotics,” Michael said once he’d taken a small sip of his drink. He made a face and gestured at Vincent to pour him some more juice. “I already told you, but I’m a fourth year PhD student.”

“I’m in my third year studying game design,” Jeremy chimed in. He then shrunk into himself a little. “Which is, uh, sorta obvious since I like video games and all.” You gave him a small smile at that.

“I’m in my last year of getting my MechE PhD,” Vincent announced proudly, “and I’m fuckin’ dying.” He downed half of his drink right after. Your heart went out to him in sympathy.

“...Comp sci Master’s,” Vanessa spoke up after a short moment. You turned to look at her. “I’m planning to graduate in December.”

“A semester early?” you asked and she nodded. “Nice!” You then told them what you were getting your own degree in before settling them all with a thoughtful look. “I guess the robot counselors really called out to you guys then, huh?”

“You kidding?” Vincent blurted out, waving his cup in the air. The drink within it sloshed around a bit, so he reeled his arm back in. “Getting to work with Henry is a blessing! The man’s incredible at robotics and A.I. development! It’s every engineering student’s dream!”

“Does he give you guys more… technological responsibilities with the animatronics then?” you asked curiously. “Since you have the education?”

“Oh yeah,” Michael answered. “He’s surprisingly lenient with that sort of thing. Let us do what we see fit when it comes to maintenance or looking at his blueprints.”

“That’s pretty nice of him,” you commented, thinking about how much of a resume boost it would be for them. This would probably count as a project of sorts, right? That was cool.

Michael smiled warmly, lost somewhere else. “Yeah, he’s great.”

“How long have you all been working here, anyways?” Vanessa suddenly questioned, her gaze directed to the three veteran counselors. Vincent hummed.

“I’ve been here for about four years, I think,” he said thoughtfully, one of his fingers tapping lightly against his chin. “Michael’s been here longer than I have, though.”

The man in question nodded. “Yeah, it’s been a while for me. More than five years for sure.” He looked contemplative for a second, staring into the fire as it crackled and sparked before him. Then the look was gone, as though it had never even been there in the first place.

“I-I’ve only been here for two years,” Jeremy said, both his hands clutching at his cup. “So I’m uh, relatively newer in comparison.”

“I see. So you’ve all pretty much stuck around for a while,” Vanessa mused, more to herself than anything, but it made you tilt your head at her. She seemed to notice the unstated question that lingered in the air, for she added, “Oh, I just wanted to see how often people returned. I was only planning on staying for this summer.”

Michael nodded. “Understandable, yeah. People come and go all the time. Life just catches up to them.” He shrugged, then turned to look at you. “How ‘bout you?”

“Bit too early for me to say, honestly,” you responded after a moment of thought. You shuffled your feet a bit, feeling your flip flops slide against the compact dirt they were resting on. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. Have to see if I like working here first. Actually— while we’re on it, what’s it like working with the kids anyways?”

“Fucking exhausting!” Vincent groaned, throwing his head back. “Especially once it gets hotter! The tykes have endless stores of energy, I swear.”

“That’s why we’re technically assistant counselors.” Michael snickered and leaned back slightly on the bench, propping his arm up behind him. “The animatronics are able to handle everything just fine.”

You hummed. “Yeah, I suppose they don’t really run out of energy, huh?”

“Other than when they need to recharge,” Jeremy added. He then scratched his head. “Well, I guess they all have solar technology, so that’s not much of an issue either…”

“Solar technology?!” you blurted out incredulously. “What the hell??”

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Vanessa remarked dryly.

“Oh yeah,” Michael grinned, apparently delighted at how stupefied you and Vanessa were, “they got upgrades like you won’t believe.”

You raised your eyebrows as you turned your head to look at him. “How did Henry even get the money for that??”

“Actually it was—” Vincent started, then cut himself off with a quick glance at Michael, who was suddenly staring resolutely into the fire before him. It was so subtle you would have missed it if you hadn’t already been looking at him. But before you could question anything, Vincent continued as though nothing had happened at all. “—all the funds from the government and the parents, you know? This place isn’t exactly cheap.”

You exchanged quick looks with Vanessa. She had definitely noticed the slight hiccup as well. Part of you wanted to press, but well… A quick glance at the three veteran counselors showed that they likely didn’t want to discuss it further—they avoided both your and Vanessa's gazes, either by taking a sip of their drinks or staring into the tangerine flames. So you let it go for now.

“I bet it isn’t,” you said lightly and an invisible tension seemed to melt away from the group at your words. “That thirty-five dollars an hour deal was what really hooked me in.”

“Ayo, you too? Up top!” Vincent cackled and raised his hand up for a high-five. You leaned forward and slapped your palm against his with a grin.

It was fun, hanging out with the other counselors as you all slowly made your way through the bottle of Ciroc. The stars overhead rotated across the sky, the flames from the fire pit died down until they weakly licked at ashy logs. It was starting to get a bit chilly, but you were too busy enjoying yourself to notice the goosebumps that decorated your skin. You exchanged stories all evening and into the night—from your college days and from their adventures working as camp counselors. It made you excited, you had to admit, hearing about all the things they’d done. It sounded like this summer would be a fun one and there was a warmth in your chest that’d sparked to life upon getting to know your coworkers better.

“And then—” Vincent choked out, lifting a hand up to his face so he could wipe away a tear. His cup sat on the ground next to him, forgotten. “—And then this asshole dropped the fucking oar into the lake! We were stranded there for hours, man!”

“I-I’d told you guys it wouldn’t be a good idea to go rowboating that late!” Jeremy snorted, his cheeks a little rosy from the two drinks he’d consumed. You giggled into your hand when Michael let out a loud groan in response.

“We were drunk and on a mission,” he told you and Vanessa, his ears slightly tinged red.

“He was so shitfaced he couldn’t even hold the oar properly!” Vincent nearly yelled. He got punched in the arm by Michael and gave him an offended look. “Hey!”

“How did you guys not get caught?” you asked before they could start tussling again. Vanessa snickered when Vincent reached back over and punched Michael just as harshly on his shoulder.

“Oh no, we did. Moon got our asses once he noticed we weren’t in our rooms,” Michael said somberly, rubbing at his shoulder with his opposite hand. “He won’t let us live that shit down to this day.”

“What was he doing outside anyways?” you wondered aloud, rubbing at your chin. “Seems kinda hypocritical to me.”

Vincent turned to look at you. “Did no one tell you?” he asked, squinting at you slightly. Or well—not at you. Honestly, you couldn’t tell where he was looking at, just that it was in your general direction. “They free roam at night.”

“‘Free roam’?” Vanessa repeated, tilting her head to the side slightly. You turned to look at her and noticed she was staring at something over your head. But before you could turn around to see what it was, she continued speaking, her eyes darting back over to Vincent. “For why?”

Michael answered in his stead. “Security purposes.” You raised an eyebrow at that.

“And also so their servos don’t lock up or whatever,” Vincent added and you noticed he was staring at you, a wide grin on his face that revealed basically all of his pearly teeth. You gave him a confused look. Why was he looking at you like that? His grin only got wider.

“Why are you—” you started to ask, then immediately froze when something behind you gripped at your shoulders—tight and cool.

“Boo!” A voice rasped right into your ear. You yelped and jumped forward, your heart pounding in your ears as you abruptly spun around to see a tall, gangly animatronic hunched over where you’d been sitting. Spindly fingers wiggled in a wave at you, a grin with sharp teeth glinted in the dying flames of the fire pit.

“Whaddahell!!” you wheezed, hand clutching at your chest. You hadn’t heard him approaching at all! Everyone burst into laughter at your reaction, filling the quiet night air.

“Oh my god the look on your face!” Vincent practically shouted, slapping his hand down repeatedly on his knee.

Jeremy wiped a tear from his eye and gave you a sympathetic look—or as much as he could manage between his laughs. “He does that to everyone, don’t worry.”

Moon snickered when you turned back to him to give him a halfhearted glare. His red eyes were upturned into crescents, and he bounced from one foot to the other in delight. Like Sun, you noticed as you took the moment to observe him, Moon had nothing covering his chest while puffy, navy pants decorated his legs. They were adorned in golden stars and small specks—just like the fluffily-rimmed nightcap that sat on his head. The bells tied around his wrists let out an occasional jingle as he hopped about.

“You have just made yourself an enemy tonight,” you told Moon seriously, crossing your arms over your chest to make yourself appear as intimidating as possible. He seemed amused by your words, if anything, for he let out another sly giggle.

“Careful,” Vincent warned you suddenly, “you’re dealing with a real shithead over there.”

Moon’s head spun around to face Vincent at his words. You watched as he slouched over to the man so he could loom over his head with his terrifyingly sharp smile. Vincent just looked up at him, unamused.

“Drinking on the premises?” Moon tsked, the bell attached to his nightcap jingling lightly as his head rotated to the right in an unnatural way. His fingers wiggled again in a wavelike motion, his hands raised in the air by his shoulders. “Naughty, naughty.”

“Oh fuck off, guy!” Vincent batted at Moon’s nightcap and sent it swaying back and forth. “You know there aren’t any kids here.”

“Language!” Moon chided, then reached down to snatch up the bottle of Ciroc by Vincent’s foot. There was about a shot’s worth of liquid left in it. Vincent let out an indignant “hey!” and raised his hand to grab at it, only for Moon to pull his hand up and away—out of Vincent’s reach. “It’s bedtime. Go to sleep~”

“Moon— give that back!” Vincent jumped up to his feet and stretched his arm up further, but Moon unfortunately was much taller and simply dangled the bottle just over Vincent’s head.

“Beddy bed! Bedtime!”

Michael sighed and got up from where he’d been sitting to stretch out his arms. “He’s right. We should head to bed. Lotsa things to do tomorrow.” He bent down to grab his cup from the ground. You nodded and walked back over to your seat so you could grab your empty cup, the others standing and dusting themselves off to help clean up as well.

It was quick work to douse the fire pit and collect your few belongings. Vincent spent a few minutes grappling with Moon and spitting out expletives until eventually he managed to snag the Ciroc bottle and stuff it into his bag along with the bottle of juice. Under Moon’s watchful eye, you all tossed your cups into one of the garbage bins near the cabins and made your way to your respective rooms, calling out goodnights that echoed across the open space.

You trudged up the stairs of your cabin and looked behind you once you’d opened the front door. Moon watched you, standing stock-still by the darkened fire pit. The lights of his eyes shined brightly through the darkness. You shivered slightly—from the cool air or the creepiness of being watched by a robot, you would never know.You held up two fingers to your narrowed eyes, then turned your hand around to point them at him in an ‘I’m watching you’ motion. You were just able to see his eyes upturn once more before you finally receded back into your cabin, shutting the door behind you with a quiet click.

a/n: btw, vincent is not actually purple guy. i just took his character as an oc of sorts!! i thought it would be a fun throwback to 2015 fnaf days, where we didn't know shit abt the lore LMAO. i also took creative liberties with jeremy fitzgerald as well!

part two

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dailyadventureprompts · 1 year

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Adventure: Perils of the Resplendent Realm

It seems as something out of a dream, a bucolic landscape riven by great shards of icy-blue crystal, diffusing the sunset into a panoply of unearthly hues. One could almost miss the signs of danger: the farmsteads left to years of overgrowth, the wagons left abandoned by the side of the road, the skeletons impaled on protruding spear shards, all left to moulder after the earth began to break.

Before the magical disaster that forced its inhabitants to flee, the Barony of Benshaw was just like any other, save for the fact that it was governed by a clan of high elves instead of a noble family. With generations that eclipsed the length of most human empires, the House of Ang’Bynshar had ruled the land since the millennia old fall of the elven empire, and were happy to swear fealty to whatever short-lived sovereign laid claim to the continent provided they could be left in peace. That all ended when the ascendant heir to the family, Yhanryn fucked up some sort of arcane ritual, setting of the violent geological events that left the land riven through with strange crystal formations.

Adventure Hooks:

With the earth unstable beneith their feet hundreds were forced to flee the barony taking refuge in nearby settlements and rebuild their lives from scratch. A generation there is a silent desire to return to Benshaw, if not to reclaim it from arcane disaster than to atleast salvage a few precious menentos from long ago. Perhaps the party had family that was forced to leave a prosperous homestead behind, or are hired to recover the treasures of some mercahnt family forced into ruin. Perhaps if one of them has elven lineage they are distantly related to the Ang’Bynshar, sharing some of the common people’s scorn for the clan’s past recklessness.

The upheaval that wracked the barony was only the first of the dangers set off by Yhanryn’s recklessness. Crystal growths opened up fissures and waiting sinkholes that are still making themselves known decades later, they burst damns and let fields be flooded, and residual energies means straying off the path may set off new violent growth like jagged mines. Worse yet they unleashed a number of rogue crystalline elementals that now wander the land looking for more interesting minerals to devour.

Before he got himself and his minions trapped in crystal, Yhanryn was obsessed with the glories of the fallen eleven empire, a time when his people didn’t need to bow their heads and curry favour with short-lived ingrates, when the proper hierarchies were observed an others knew their place was BENEATH his family. To make his assumptions of superiority literal, Yhanryn intended on using a geode of elemental earth pulled from the world below to lift his family’s lands into the air. The humans would then be politely invited to leave, before they were forced off the edge at spearpoint. Should he be freed ( say as part of a chain reaction while the party raid his family’s castle) he’ll bury his prejudice long enough to convince the party to help him obtain a new geode under the pretense of healing the land.

Should Yhanryn get the party’s aid (or another group of rubes should the heroes turn him down ) his second attempt will go no better than the first, this time ripping a hole in the world straight to the underdark. If the party end up opposing him, they’ll have to battle through his family’s loyalists, both those that were trapped with him and those that have lingered on in the kingdom's noble class.

#Adventure #field #low level #Village #treasure hunt #Arcane #cave #mine #underdark #elf #Lowlands #mid level #villain #qor'ivel

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deleteddewewted · 1 year

Text

What It’s Like To Love Phillip Graves Part 2

MDNI

W: NSFW, Slow burn, Angst, Fluff, Getting Together, Friends With Benefits to Lovers, Gn! Reader, Unhealthy Relationship, Soldier Reader

P1 , P3

He loved you.

He found out that he loved you the moment he saw you defend on of your fellow soldiers in the field.

You were brutal and precise.

You never left anyone behind and you always did what you could do to help.

You were a force that he wanted to keep around him.

Your hands were skilled with whatever they could grab at and it drove him up the wall seeing you use those hands on him.

You're hands were rough with him, they left marks on his body, they mapped him all over.

You didn't tear into him like you would with an enemies soldiers throat.

You were caressing him like he would break.

You mouth into his mouth that you wanted him.

"Come back to me, Phillip. Always make sure to come back to me." You might have said that in the heat of the moment.

He was inside you and actively biting at your skin.

He was thrusting into you with rigger and his hands gripped onto your hips like a life line.

He wanted to believe you.

And he did.

He fell hard and he never let those words go.

Every mission was a test to just how far he could push his luck just to come back to you.

When he started his PMC, he made sure to keep in mind just how much you loved the sensation of being part of a unit.

A family.

Now that he had you so close.

Now that he found himself in you bed again after years of absence, he knew he had to talk with you.

He spent weeks drafting letters, trying to find the correct words for what he wanted to tell you.

He settled with one that made the most sense to him. It detailed all of his feelings and thoughts.

He wanted you to know just how much he wanted you to be part of his life since his initial attempt to persuade you with higher pay didn't work.

His bribing, his letter alluding to offering up sex, anything that might have once interested you wasn't working and it was frustrating him.

You were a person of morals but goddamn was it frustrating to see just how moral you were while being the type to cut someones throat open.

You never responded to any of them so when he had the chance to see you again after his squad had been ambushed, he took it as his sign to pursue you.

You were sitting by most of his mens bedsides, taking care of them.

When you made it to his bed, you did the something.

You helped him redress is wounds, cleaned his hair, you even fed him when his hands started shaking from the adrenaline after waking up from a nightmare.

You held him while he cried about the deaths that slowly accrued.

Finally, he found himself in your bed again.

You were warm an enveloped him in it.

You made his bed inviting and welcoming, almost like he had never left it in the first place back when you guys had fucked for the first time.

You were as accommodating to him just like the first time.

You kissed him, fucked him, suffocated him with your care.

And when he woke up you were gone.

By the time he had managed to get out of bed, you were already sparring with his men.

After an extra week on base, they were in the clear to leave and regroup at HQ. Which meant that hitmen began to bitch about how they were going to miss their favorite Lieutenant.

"Hey, can I have a talk with you real quick Lt? Just need to clear some things with you, no biggie." You rolled your eyes at him as he made his way into your office and closed the door behind him.

He was tense, it was noticeable in the way his jaw clenched shut as he made his way up to you.

You were sitting on at your desk chair and watched him make his way towards you.

You spread your legs apart, awaiting to see what he would do.

Maybe one last fuck for the road before your paths would never cross again.

Maybe he wanted to try something new wit you because he knew he wouldn't have to face any shame or embarrassment since this was the last time you'd meet.

You ere going to be transferring to another base soon, this would be your parting gift from he ma you thought you knew.

"Just wanted to set the record straight with you before I left." He kneeled down on the floor in front of you and placed his head on your lap.

His arms wrapped around your waist as he relaxed into your body.

"This might be it. I don't know what the world has planned for me but I want to at least get some closure when it comes to you."

"And what could you possibly want or need from me, Graves." You werent upset or even disappointed with him. You were just as curious as he was to find out what he needed.

"Do you remember the first time we made love? You know how you told me how I should make sure to come back to you?"

"Very southern of you to call fucking "making love"." You teased back but he ignored you instead.

"I took what you said to heart. I wanted to come back to you. I needed too. And now that im here, again, and can see you. I want to have you."

"How cute of you. Wanting to own me." You said. He shook his head at you and tightened his hold.

"I want you, but not to own you, hun." It was a silent after he confessed.

There wasn't much to truly say, it was all in the open.

He wanted you and didn't want to let you go.

You loved him but you know that the lives you both led weren't destined for peace.

"Im leaving this base soon Phillip."

"I know."

You stayed there, defeated, until one of the shadows came knocking on your door asking if you knew where their boss had gone.

"I'll never forget you, hun." He kissed you on the cheek, his hand refusing to let of of your own.

"Make sure to come back to me Phillip. Maybe next time around, we can try something out." You kissed his knuckles and let him go.

Him and his company left and were out of sight by the time you left your office.

#phillip graves #phillip graves x reader #cod graves #graves x reader #cod #call of duty modern warfare ii #call of duty #mw2 #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare #modern warfare fanfiction #dd speaks #graves mw2 #phillip graves x you #phillip graves smut #phillip graves mw2

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upsidedownwithsteve · 2 years

Text

We Tried The World CH1.

THE MASTERLIST SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS, 287 MILES FROM HOME.

Steve picked you up a few doors down from your house at six o’clock in the morning the next day.

Hawkins was still asleep, the whole town nursing a sleepiness that only came from a party that everyone had joined in on the night before. The morning air smelled like old bonfire smoke, the leftover fizz from fireworks and the sky was lilac and peach, the air hazy.

You didn’t say much when you walked towards his car, the BMW idling by the park on the corner of your street. You’d told him to park away from your house, to let your aunt sleep through what would’ve been an awkward goodbye.

You left a note on your bed instead, one that you knew she’d understand. After all, she’d been there through everything. Hawkins wasn’t home and you were never supposed to have ended up there.

Steve hopped out and put your rucksack in the trunk for you and when you dropped yourself into the passenger seat beside him, he smiled and handed you a couple of cassettes to pick from. The windows were down, his tank was full and the height of summer was creeping into the car. Everything smelled like cut grass and coffee and boy.

When you chanced a glance at your driver, he looked the way you felt, like he was at peace with what was about to happen, like it was all finally okay.

His cheek was still angry, pink and lilac turning to blue and red overnight and he licked his split lip a little self consciously upon feeling your eyes on him.

You thought he might tell you to quit it, to stop staring but Steve was soft around the edges, maybe from sleep, maybe from the relief you both felt when you approached the edge of town. The sign that told you both you were leaving Hawkins edged closer as Steve drove, the mocking “come back soon!” staring at you both.

It felt like a challenge, it felt like a dare.

Steve spoke then, the engine thrumming underneath you both as he flicked honey brown eyes towards you.

“You sure?”

You stared at the road ahead before finding the boy’s gaze, a quiet determination coming over you. You think he saw it, or maybe he felt it - like the air around you both changed - because he smiled, a little crooked because of his cut but it made you grin back.

The sense of adventure overpowered the unknown, the thrill of something new and all of the what ifs made your heart beat a little faster and for the first time in the longest time, you felt like you weren’t sleepwalking through the day.

Morning had hardly broken and the sky was still a watercolour wash of pastel, but you were wide awake.

You nodded and Steve’s grin was blinding, summer and sun in a smile.

You drove as the sun came up, until the skies turned from peach to blue, the air growing warmer and the view outside your window had less houses. Steve hit the highway and picked up some speed, windows still down and the wind rushing at your faces as you left behind the old water tower, the trailer park on the outskirts of town, Mr Lumson’s old farm.

Hawkins led out into open fields, green and gold and yellow, flat land broken up by old barns, forgotten tractors, a paddock of horses and cows. The road took you through other towns, some smaller, some bigger, gas stations with only one working pump, a vendor on the side of the road selling fruit and homemade iced tea.

It all felt a little surreal, like you were daydreaming in the best kind of way. Because the wind threaded through your fingers as you held your hand out of the open window, it nipped at your open palm and you could smell the fresh air, the pine trees. Because you were sitting in the front seat of Steve Harrington’s car and he was driving you far away from home. You weren't even sure where you were going, you didn’t think Steve really knew either, but everything you loved was packed into the duffle bag in the boy’s trunk - and there wasn’t much.

Some clothes, a few mixtapes, a few half empty toiletries in a make up bag you’d taken from underneath your aunt’s bathroom sink. A tin of pencils, your sketchbook, a few rings - all gold, some important, some not. All the money that you had. It wasn’t like the boy was a stranger, he wasn’t, not really. No one could feel like a stranger in a town like Hawkins, it was too small, people were too close and someone’s grandma always knew someone else’s cousin. You’d grown up with Steve, not by his side, but in the same circle - he’d been in all your classes from kindergarten to high school, sharing friends and the same drug dealer.

You were friendly with Robin Buckley, your aunt and you lived a few doors down from Nancy Wheeler, you babysat for the Sinclair siblings before Lucas moved up to high school and you were both invited to the same parties. You knew he worked in Family Video, you knew he’d chosen not to go to college after graduation. You knew his parents were always gone, you knew he was softer than he seemed and you knew that the reason for his back eye was most likely his father.

You knew he kissed like he wanted to steal the breath from your lungs, like he was trying to tell you all his secrets.

And maybe, despite not knowing his favourite colour, his favourite food, his favourite song, you had the feeling you were more similar than you ever would’ve guessed, that you both shared that awful pulsing ache in your chest that there wasn’t a home for either of you anywhere.

So when Steve pulled into a parking lot just off of the highway, somewhere near the edge of Illinois, you didn’t hesitate to nod when he asked if you were hungry, to follow him into the old diner with its neon sign and pink walls. It was nearing eight o’clock and the world was a little more alive now, the roads busier, the diner smelling like coffee and maple bacon.

You found it easy to slide into a booth across from the boy, easier to let your gaze meet his, small smiles playing on both of your mouths. You ordered a tea, Steve a coffee and a plate of pancakes each and when the waitress scratched down your choices, she clicked her tongue, smiled and called you both a ‘cute little pair.’

No one really spoke until there was caffeine in your systems, bones warmed by hot drinks and the drizzle of syrup that you licked from lips and forks. It was a nice kind of silence whilst you ate, the kind you were sure you could get used to, the kind that could carry you across states, across the country.

It was even nicer when Steve wiped his mouth with his napkin, tapped your foot with his underneath the table and raised a brow in question.

“So, where d’you wanna go?”

“Don’t you have somewhere in mind?” you asked him. This was his plan after all, he’d been the one to ask you, to invite you along.

Steve shook his head slow, shoulders shrugging as if the destination had never occurred to him.

You sipped the last of your tea, watching the boy over the rim of the cup and he could tell you were taking your time to think. There was an ache in your chest that felt like the answer, that felt a little like the idea of home.

“California,” you said, voice softer than you wanted it to be. “Carmel-by-the-Sea.”

The sounds of the diner filled the silence between you two as Steve considered your response. The jingle of the cash drawer, spoons stirring in sugar, the pop of the grill behind the open kitchen window.

But then the boy nodded and took another sip of his coffee. There was a soft sincerity colouring his voice, his pretty features, when he asked you: “What’s there?”

You felt a little embarrassed, so you looked at your almost empty plate, sticky syrup on the cheap ceramic, a quarter of your last pancake that Steve had helped you eat.

“The ocean,” you mumbled, nose scrunched as you chanced a glance back up at him. “Never seen it before.”

You didn’t want to tell him that you hadn’t actually left Hawkins since you moved there when you were three years old. You thought that maybe Steve knew that, that he could tell, that he could guess. Because you were living with your aunt, a woman who didn’t really care, but the only family member left in your life that cared enough. Holiday’s weren’t a thing.

“There’s a lot of ocean before Carmel-by-the-Sea,” Steve smiled, a little teasing, a little curious. “What’s there?” he asked again.

Your lips twisted, a downturn of your mouth that you tried to hide because he had figured you out way too quickly. This stranger who wasn't a stranger, this boy who wasn’t really a friend. He was your last kiss though, your companion for the next who knew how many weeks.

But still, it was day one and you were still guarding your secrets, yourself. So you shrugged as if you didn’t know the answer, like there wasn’t one to give and Steve was smart enough not to press. You turned to him instead, sticky fork in your hand, wielded like a weapon that you needed to protect yourself with.

You thought of all the questions you wanted to ask him and they rattled in your head, in your chest, making you feel panicked. You didn’t want to upset him, you didn’t want to cross any lines that hadn’t been set yet.

Why are you leaving town? Does your parents know you’re gone? Do they care? Did your dad hit you? Why did you kiss me? Are we gonna talk about that?

“Why me?” you asked instead and you cringed a little when it came out like an argument, voice a little too hard and harsh.

But Steve just smiled again, fingertip tracing around the rim of his now empty mug and you were almost sure that there was a faint flush of pink high on his cheeks. He shrugged a little shyly before he flicked honey brown eyes up to yours. There it was again, that look, that unbearably soft sincere look, like he wasn’t about to judge you.

“You’re the only other person I know with nothin’ to lose.”

You were a little speechless.

Another half shrug, a lopsided smile that matched the morning sun that was rising in the window behind him.

“The same as me.”

Something in your chest stuttered. Maybe your heart stopped, just for a half a second, maybe less, because something skipped a beat at the realisation that the boy knew you more than you thought he did. It’s why you told him yes, why you nodded your head in that strangers kitchen the night before, lips a breath away from Steve’s, both of you lit up in red, green and gold.

Because with a dad that wasn’t around when you were born, a twenty something stoner with three jobs and no time for a kid, you weren’t sure you knew what it was like to have something that you’d miss when it was gone. It only took three years for your mom to feel the same way, bored of her daughter and the life in a small town in Virginia. You weren’t even sure which town.

Too young to remember it as a home, your mom had dropped you with her sister in Hawkins, an aunt that had no time for a kid, but took you in nonetheless. You were sure there had been a false promise of a quick return. Your mom telling your aunt that she just needed a minute, just some time to get her head straight, didn’t she understand? You were too much hard work. You were difficult.

She told the other woman a week, two tops. And then you were celebrating your fourth birthday, your fifth, your sixth and every one after that with your aunt who never wanted you but never had the heart to say. She bought you a cake from the bakery on Main every year, bought you a new book wrapped in red paper and some cash in a card.

And every year you smiled and thanked her, brushed a kiss across her cheek and took a slice of cake to your room, where you watched the sprinkles melt and colour the white icing, where you pushed the dollars into the tin underneath your mattress.

It had never been enough to buy a car, or a plane ticket. It wasn’t enough to take you where you wanted to go, not even close. But it could help you buy gas and food, maybe a motel room here and there. ‘Cause now you had Steve and that was a statement that you were sure you’d never get used to saying.

You smiled at the boy, a soft laugh leaving your lips in a humourless huff and you nodded, pushing the last square of pancake around your plate.

“Yeah,” you agreed, “nothing to lose.”

“Do your parents know that you’re doing… this?” you gestured between the two of you, glanced out of the windows to his maroon coloured car sitting in the dusty parking lot. You were already both two hours from home, maybe more. “Do they know you’re gone?”

Steve grinned and you could tell it was sharp, without any happiness. The boy sat opposite you with his still sleep mussed hair, big brown eyes and nothing more than a similar sized rucksack in his trunk, right beside yours.

He thought of his room, empty and blue, a couple of books taken from his shelves and a pillow from his bed - the flattest one, old and in a chequered case, smelling like a home that was only really a house.

The kitchen was empty when he left, the living room too, the only framed photos were shots taken in a studio, white backgrounds, pressed shirts, his father’s cold hand on his shoulder. Steve stopped smiling in the third one.

He’d locked the door, stared at the key as he stood on his porch and toyed with the idea of taking it off of the chain it shared with the key to his car. He could post it, leave it on the doormat in the hall for his parents to come home to. He didn’t know when they’d return. He didn’t know when he’d come back, if he would at all.

Steve didn’t know where he was going.

He posted his resignation into the letterbox of Family Video on the way to your house, slowed down when he drove through Robin’s street, wondering if the upset would be worth getting to give her one last hug. He’d spent the night before on the phone to her, hours and hours of frustration and a little anger, upset and unshed tears before he finally got his best friend to understand.

She made him promise he’d come back. She begged him. So Steve nodded even though the girl couldn’t see. He swallowed the lump in his throat and told her yes, that he’d come back, that he promised.

Steve really hoped he didn’t break it.

He thought about telling you that his parents wouldn’t care, that his parent’s probably wouldn’t even notice. The landline could go unanswered for weeks on end and his parent’s wouldn’t think to get an early flight home. He could drive to Europe and back, take some trains, some boats, swim across the English Channel and return home before they noticed he was gone. But all of that sounded a little sad, and Steve reckoned there was plenty of time for sadness later.

So for now, he shrugged, waved a hand dismissively and tugged his wallet from his jean pocket. He smiled when you chucked a few bills on the table first, not bothering to argue or play polite, ‘cause you were both more than aware money was going to be tight if you were going to make it across the country together. And besides, he told himself, this wasn’t a date. This was an escape and it didn’t matter if he knew that you kissed like you wanted to prove something, that you tasted like cherries and something else sweet.

He wasn’t gonna talk about that.

You both crossed the border into Illinois without much fanfare, the windows rolled down and the highway stretching out long ahead of you. The fields on either side of you were undisturbed, the sun blazing down on wide, green pastures, acres of gold wheat and every now and then, you’d pass an old barn that sat forgotten. The sign that welcomed you to the new state seemed a little monumental, despite the fact that the green backing of it was sun bleached and faded, but it meant that you and Steve were no longer in Indiana, no longer home.

It felt good, it felt dizzying and with every mile Steve drove you both across the state line, your smile grew and so did Steve’s. He was beaming when you glanced over at him, hair wild from the wind that funnelled through the open windows, the car going just a tiny bit faster that it was supposed to. But you merely turned up the music, fingers gentle on the dial, whatever mixtape Steve had made pumping through the speakers with static and crackles.

It made the boy beam, and he matched the summer outside, warmth and sunshine in his chest, a new heatwave trapped in his eyes, an adventure waiting on his lips. He was a sight to behold and it made your chest burst, so you blinked, turned back looking out the window instead.

But you couldn’t help the burst of laughter that ripped prettily from your throat when Steve started singing, not all that badly, you noted. He garnered your attention once more, like he wanted it, like he liked it. He didn’t care that you were watching, that you were staring, his hands drumming out a beat on the wheel, a little off rhythm, his hair in his eyes, chin tilted up to the sun as he crooned.

“There's a room where the light won't find you!” The boy was almost yelling to be heard over the roar of the car, and you were laughing through strands of wind whipped hair. “Holding hands while the walls come tumbling down!”

You sang the next line with him, much quieter and shyer than Steve did. But the words held the same weight to them whether they were whispered or yelled, and goosebumps tracked up your bare arms as you let them leave your lips.

“When they do I'll be right behind you.”

Maybe it meant nothing, maybe it was just a song, just a band that Steve liked, that he put on a mixtape. He was just a boy, an almost friend, someone you kissed just once. Just a boy who asked you to run away with him, a boy with honey brown eyes, messy hair, freckles that looked like the start of summer on his cheeks.

Maybe it meant nothing. It was just a song, you told yourself again. But then Steve looked over at you and grinned again, that same slow, soft smile you were already becoming so used to. Maybe it could mean everything.

You rolled through small towns and dust roads, listening to Tears For Fears and wondering if your aunt had woken up and found your note yet. The morning became afternoon and the heat rose with the sun, heating the asphalt, the air, you.

It had been over an hour, almost two, when you turned to Steve, cheek pushed to the fabric of the seat. Your gaze settled over him, familiarising yourself with the slope of his nose, the line of his jaw. He had some stubble now, a shadow to his cheeks that hadn’t been there the night he kissed you. Pouty lips, impossibly pink and soft - easy to kiss, you remembered. Eyes that kissed in the corners, always sleepy looking, thick lashes, honey and brown sugar in the sun. Hair that was always a little wild, curling at the nape of his neck, around his ears.

Steve Harrington was a very pretty boy, you summarised.

You cleared your throat when he caught you staring, a pair of Ray-Ban’s perched over his eyes now and despite the dark glass, you could see the way his eyes stuck on yours for just a second, before the road stole back his attention.

“So uh, what’s the plan?” you asked, trying for light and casual.

“Cali, remember? Carmel, the ocean, right?” Steve looked confused, and the pucker between his brows only deepened when you laughed, not unkindly.

“We’re a long way from there, hot shot,” you smiled, gesturing to the road ahead of you both. “What’re we doing in the meantime?”

Steve parted his lips, thinking. Then he laughed too, soft like you did, and waved a hand. “Shit, yeah, you’re right. Why, uh, why don’t we stop at town soon? We can get some supplies, take a walk, find somewhere to stay and figure out where we wanna go?”

You nodded before rooting around in the glovebox, nosy and entirely unapologetic about it. You scoffed, eyeing the boy with an air of disbelief.

“What?” Steve asked.

“Do you even have a map, Harrington?”

“No.”

----------

It’s how you and Steve found yourselves in Springfield, a bustling town that was the second choice to Chicago, or first, where Steve was concerned. The boy had wrinkled his nose when you’d suggested it offhandedly, and he’d made a comment about avoiding the cities that were too big, too loud, too much.

Steve wanted quiet, he wanted something slow, peaceful. He wanted rolling hills, he wanted valley’s, he wanted to see green and blue, he wanted sunsets, sunrises, he wanted to see the stars, home cooked meals in tiny diners, coffee on the hood of his car in front of a lake.

He wanted everything his own home couldn’t offer him, he wanted to get away. He smiled when you just nodded and said ‘okay’, like giving the boy what he wanted was the easiest thing in the world.

So Steve parked up on a street corner in the middle of town, the sidewalks busy enough that no one stared at the two of you, busy enough that no one realised that you didn’t belong. But the crowds and bustle meant that Steve stuck close to your side, a hand always hovering over the small of your back, scared to touch but unwilling to lose you in a new place.

The streets were lined with diners and some small businesses; hairdressers, barbers, bookshops and nail salons. There was a fancy restaurant or two, a dentist's surgery, a pharmacy that looked straight out of the 1950’s and a car garage that sat on the other corner, four gas pumps and a bored looking attendant.

The sidewalks were lined with small trees, striped canopies over the window displays, neon signs over twenty four hour diners and motels showing their vacancies.

It was enough for the first day, you thought. Enough to keep you busy, enough to get started. So you tapped Steve’s shoulder and pointed to a small store across the street, one that looked like you could find what you needed in it.

It seemed like a knee jerk reaction when Steve’s fingers slid gently around your wrist as you crossed the road. You didn’t pull away, you didn’t say anything but he was blushing when you looked at him, the skin where he’d touched you burning in response.

He gave you a sheepish smile when he let go, pink on his cheeks and one hand scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck. He didn’t look at you when he explained, “sorry, I uh, I hang about with kids too much.”

There was no time to respond before Steve was shuffling into the shop, the bell above the door tinkling gently. You managed to find a roadmap of the states, each major highway inked in bright red and you traced route sixty six, a small smile on your face.

Your finger ran over the folds and creases, found the Pacific Coast highway and stared at the blue on the page, the dips in the lines that showed off beaches and coves.

Steve came to stand at your shoulder, head above your own as he watched you stare. He saw your smile, the almost hopeful look in your eyes.

His voice was quiet and soft when he said, “it’ll take us what, two weeks? Maybe three depending on where you wanna stop off?”

“Me?” You scrunched your nose, embarrassed to have been given so much say in a trip that wasn’t ever really your idea. “What about you? Aren't there places you’d like to go to? To see?”

Steve looked a little taken aback, like he’d never really thought about it. He shrugged, gazed back down at the map in your hands and moved a little closer so he could stare at the states, the roads, the lakes marked out in patches of blue.

“I didn’t really think of where I wanted to go,” he told you quietly, “just that I knew I wanted to leave.”

You were quiet as you processed the boy’s words, your eyes a little sad as you looked back over your shoulder at him, at his bruised eye and cut lip. So you nodded, like you understood, folded the map back up and placed it on the cash desk before you grabbed a small book from the display next to the till, one that was titled ‘1001 Things To See In America.’

Steve didn’t say anything but you saw him smile, that shy stretch of his lips, the same one he gave you after he kissed you. It showed off a dimple on his right cheek, it made his lashes kiss at the corners, nose a little wrinkled.

He looked really pretty.

He grabbed some bottles of soda as you wrestled with your purse, stretching over your shoulder again to place them on the corner, a big bag of chips quickly following with some dollar bills. Steve grabbed the bag of snacks, took the book you picked and tucked it under his arm, grinning at you as he headed for the door.

“Ready?”

The question took your breath away, because it was so much more than one word. It was possibilities, it was a leap of faith, it was a new state, a different adventure. It was mountains, valleys, lakes, oceans, wide roads, wider canyons, the chance to see something new.

It was absolutely terrifying. But you nodded and followed Steve out the door.

—————

“Did you know that Kansas has the biggest ball of twine?”

Steve was stretched out on the grass of Lincoln Park, the book you picked in his hands as he grinned at you over its pages.

You snorted. “Sounds riveting. Here,” you threw him a pen from your bag, taking your sketchbook out with it. “Start circling stuff that you wanna see, but no fifty foot balls of twine, please.”

“It’s actually only ten feet,” Steve told you, flicking through the pages absentmindedly.

“That’s disappointing.”

It was the boy’s turn to laugh and he took a sip of his soda before he tilted his chin at the paper you were holding, craning his neck to inspect.

“D’you draw?”

You flushed: your immediate reaction to being asked that question because it wasn’t something you showed off. You shrugged, held the pages a little closer to your chest and leaned back against the oak tree behind you.

“Not well,” you muttered, squinting your eyes against the sun. You watched as Steve watched you, how he took in your closed off body, the protective hand you held over the blank page. “S’just something to do, y’know?”

So he didn’t press, didn’t push, just merely nodded and went back to the book, tracing the letters of a title you couldn’t see. It was peaceful, easy, a bag of spicy chips laid open between you, your knees tucked up so you could put pen to paper and sketch out the mess of the boy’s hair in secret.

If Steve knew you were drawing him, he didn’t say. But he had to know, ‘cause your gaze was on him as much as it was your book and every now and then, your eyes met and he smiled.

“What about The Ozarks?” He said, pushing the book over to you, his finger tapped a photo of sprawling forests, cerulean blue springs hidden amongst them. There were people in kayaks, swimming, jumping from cliff tops. “Looks nice, right?”

You hummed in agreement, nodding. “It does, it looks super pretty.” You twisted your pen to your paper, drew in the small mole on his cheek. “That’s Missouri, yeah?”

He nodded, taking the pen you’d given in and circling something on the page, bookmarking it for later.

“About six hours away, if you wanna take the scenic route,” he mumbled, the map in his other hand, the edges of it curling in the light breeze.

“Always take the scenic route, Harrington,” you commented lightly, your lips twisting in concentration as you shaded in the slope of the boy’s jaw. “That sounds like a plan though, at least, a good start to one.”

“Noted,” he smirked and after a few beats of silence, he stretched his leg over the grass to yours, nudging at your foot with his trainer. He nodded at the paper that was still tucked against your knees, hidden against your chest. “Do I get to see?”

You baulked.

“Since it's me and all,” he grinned.

Weirdly, you knew that if you said no, Steve wouldn’t protest or argue. You weren’t sure how, but you were so, so sure of that. Maybe that’s why you chewed at your lip and turned the page, letting him take in the dark lines and soft shadows of his own face.

You’d drawn him from the torso up, t-shirt crumpled against the grass, hair wild from the drive, from the wind, his eyes downcast at the book he was holding.

Steve stared, silent before he coughed out an almost embarrassed sound laughing, eyes flicking between you and the page.

“Wow,” he mumbled, leaning closer to look. You could feel your cheeks heat up, the flush spreading across your chest. “Bruises and all, huh?”

You grimaced, regretting shading in the cut and marks around his eyes and lip, pulling back the paper and wondering if you’d crossed a line.

“Sorry! I’m- fuck, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have-” you were rambling and it was awful. God, you felt awful.

“No! No, no,” Steve assured you, “don’t be, it’s amazing, shit… it’s really good.”

You were burning. “Thanks,” you mumbled, staring at anything but the boy. “You have a good face.”

Steve grinned.

“To draw,” you told him, voice a little too sharp and high. “Fuck.”

But Steve was already laughing, although it didn’t feel like it was aimed at you and the sound wasn’t cruel. He didn’t really look at you when he gathered up his things, the map and the book, his empty soda bottle.

“You have a good face too.”

You were pretty sure you were still flushed by the time late evening crawled around, dinner was in an old diner with sticky leather booths, a fuschia sign outside that blinked and flickered as the sun went down. It took a little while after that to find a motel with vacancies, the two of you driving around in the warm night air, the windows still rolled down.

The town smelled like leftover cinnamon from bakeries that were closing, fumes from exhausts, garlic and rosemary from the restaurants that only got busier the more you drove around the block.

Eventually you spotted a sign a few streets down, close to the park you’d spent your afternoon in. A pretty, baby pink building with a red sign above it, green curtains lining the windows and the word “VACANCIES” flashing at you both from the main door.

So Steve parked the car and brushed you away when he took both your bags out the trunk, slinging them over one shoulder like it was no big deal. Night was stretching in and despite not being all that far from home, the excitement of a new town, a new state, was starting to wear you both down.

Sleep tugged at your eyes as the stars came out and once again, Steve guided you into the quiet motel with a gentle hand that didn’t quite touch your back.

He spoke quietly and politely to the woman at the desk, looking at you questioningly when she asked how many rooms. The boy sputtered and stopped, eyes in yours as he let you take the lead.

There it was again, that heat in your cheeks that seemed to be becoming a frequent feeling around Steve Harrington. But he waited patiently, the woman less so, and you sounded far too quiet when you said, “one, please. A twin.”

Steve didn’t say anything as you took the keys from the desk, slid the money you’d both put together into the woman’s hand. It wasn’t until you were both standing in the too small elevator that you smiled at him a little sheepishly, arms crossed over your chest and said:

“I didn’t wanna be in a room alone.”

The boy nodded and smiled, like it was okay, like it was fine. And maybe it was. ‘Cause he put your bag down on the single bed for you when you entered the room, his on the other and told you that you could use the shower first, like this was the most normal Tuesday night.

The summer heat, leftover sunscreen and the hours in the car were sticking to your skin and the thought of a cool shower and some fresh pyjamas seemed far too enticing, so you did just that.

The spray was a welcome sensation, a little weak, a little pour than a dribble but it was better than you could’ve hoped for considering you had no plans to even be in a tiny motel in Illinois until yesterday at ten o’clock.

The party seemed an age ago, in someone's kitchen on Hawthorne Street, groups of strangers, some friends, colours in the sky and spilled beer on the kitchen tiles. A boy, familiar face, a new kiss, asking you to leave town.

You stared at the baby pink tiles, eyes a little wide as the reality of the situation set in. Guilt rolled in your stomach as you realised your aunt would have most definitely found your note by now.

Maybe she’d feel as free as you did.

The buzz of the television played through the thin walls as you got dried and dressed, skin still damp as you pulled on old shorts, a too big shirt that had a photo of Prince on the front, some splashes of dried paint on the hem.

Steve was lounging on his bed when you padded out barefoot, suddenly a lot more shy than you thought you would be. But he smiled and gestured to a bottle of water he’d left on the nightstand for you, brushing gently past your shoulder with his own towel as he went to wash the day away.

The low lights in the room were a little too warm, pink tinged and making everything look rosy. Steve had cracked a window, enough to let the summer air in, a cooler breeze now the sun had gone down, the sky streaked with leftover indigo clouds and you could hear the buzz of cicadas from the park behind you.

It felt a little dreamlike, a little surreal.

And then as you were tucked into bed, the sheets a little scratchy, Steve walked back out in shorts and a threadbare shirt, hair damp and falling in his eyes.

He pulled a pillow from his bag, a sad, flat looking one that still had its pillowcase on it from home. He chucked it onto his bed before tumbling in after it and he turned to look at you, expression almost unsure.

“You okay?”

You shuffled, cheek pressed to the motel pillow and between you both, the light flickered once, twice, sending peach coloured shadows across the room.

“Yeah,” you whispered, scared to break the silence that surrounded you. “How come?”

Steve shrugged, body lazy against the mattress and he stretched, humming in content as he did. “I dunno,” he whispered back, voice scratchy and soft with sleep. “I guess I just wanted to ask. Make sure you still want to do this, y’know?”

You smiled, appreciating the gesture, and you blinked at him, sleep tugging at you more and more. “Yeah, ‘course. The Ozarks right?”

The boy grinned and nodded, eyes shy and gazing at you from under his lashes. He pushed at his sheets with his toes, too warm, shoving them down his legs. You tried not to stare, not at the muscles in his thighs, the small scar on his ankle that shone silver in the low light.

It was quiet until Steve whispered ‘goodnight’, leaning out of his bed to flick the light off, bathing you both in black. Outside, the town kept going, soft music coming from somewhere unknown, the murmured conversation from some people at the vending machines in the parking lot below your room.

You don’t know why you asked it. Maybe it was because it was dark and you were suddenly a little unsure, maybe you just wanted to know a little more about the boy in the bed next to you - like you could collect some more pockets of the boy’s life, like you could find out enough to call him a friend, maybe, eventually.

“Hey Steve?” You waited until the boy made a little noise in the dark, signalling that he was still awake. “Tell me a secret?”

There was a beat of silence, one that made the room feel warmer, summer sneaking in from the outside. You heard the sheets shuffle, the rasp of skin on cotton.

“My dad gave me this black eye.”

His words were heavy, the way only a secret could feel. But it sounded like there was some relief colouring Steve’s whisper, like he felt lighter the minute he said the words.

“I’m sorry,” your response felt silly no matter how much you meant it.

“Tell me one too.”

You swallowed, paused, thinking. The hot prick of tears wet the corner of one eye and you were thankful for the dark, for the night. You brushed it away until it smeared into the mess of your hair, right by your ear.

“Uh, I realised last week that,” you coughed, cleared your throat, sounding more strained than you wanted to, “that I can’t really remember what my mom looks like. Not unless I looked at a photo.”

More silence, still warm, maybe hotter from the burn that lit up your skin. It felt a little like shame, maybe guilt, like your three year old mind was supposed to cling to the memory of the woman who left you, like you were supposed to remember the shape of her nose, the smell of her perfume, the colour that hid in the middle of her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said too, and he sounded like he meant it as much as you did.

You both slept after that, each other’s secrets clutched to your chest and you dreamt of roadmaps and a blue, blue lake, where a brown eyed boy was waiting for you.

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KO-FI ♡

#steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harringon fanfic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington fluff #stranger things #stranger things fic

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