#it really opens up the possibilities if they do another one | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

1d1195 · 3 days

Text

Strong

~3.9k words

From Me: Requested by @thechaoticjoy I'm sorry it took so long, I hope I did it justice. I'll post the corresponding ask a little bit after the story has been out so long as it's okay with you 💕 I'll message you to chat!

Warnings: parental death long-term illness, hospitals, angst, tragic backstory, really sad stuff in this one. But there's some really comforting notions in it, I think. A lot of strong MC attributes and I think there's a lot to be celebrated in this kind of strength

Summary: Harry's best friend is sweet, kind, beautiful, and intelligent. He wishes she would open up to him more. Only because he doesn't want her to have to be so strong for herself. He would love to be strong for her every now and again.

“She’s the best,” Gemma said knowingly. “Sweet, calm...she’s perfect for you.”

Harry smiled. “Yeah,” he shrugged.

“Come on Harry, you can’t possibly ignore it. It’s...nice. Different. She’s perfect.” Her smile reflected the same one as Harry. Something they both inherited from their mother. Something that Harry loved to point to when looking at the relationship between them. He liked to believe the kindness he had came from the words his mum and sister spoke. A trait that was passed down to him since he didn’t get hand-me-downs from Gemma.

The sweet girl was quietly putting things in Anne’s car after having filled Gemma’s. “You sit with your sister,” she squeezed Harry’s shoulder and left no room for argument. Within seconds, she was grabbing keys from Michal and Harry’s mum. The lovely couple had been showered with gifts for the arriving baby girl. Michal and Anne were chatting at one table, Harry and Gemma at another.

“Who does this kind of thing?” Gemma asked rhetorically. “You cannot let her get away. There is no better sister-in-law I could imagine. No better aunt,” she said pointedly.

Harry smirked, his cheeks turning red at the compliments. But it wasn’t his place to blush or accept the compliments. She was perfect. Truly. But he didn’t do anything but find her by practically stumbling into her. They worked for the same company, Harry was a research assistant and she worked in IT. One day his computer was glitching out and Harry headed down a quiet hallway.

The room was dark, just a couple strings of Christmas lights around the walls. Music played quietly from a speaker while she organized paperwork and read over her computer screen. A pair of glasses (that turned out to be just for blue light and not for seeing) perched on her nose.

She was beautiful. That was the first thing Harry noticed because he couldn’t help but notice.

“Hi,” he said in greeting. “M’laptop froze.”

She was intelligent. That was the second thing. Because she worked magic within moments to get his computer back up and running.

The rest was history. She worked on it quickly and diligently. Tapping buttons, pressing keys that Harry never touched because he wasn’t convinced his laptop wouldn’t spontaneously gain a conscience. They chatted while she worked. Nothing of major importance. How long they worked there, where they went to school, and if she had tried the new sushi restaurant down the road for lunch.

“Thanks for coming to my dungeon,” she giggled when he was leaving. “Come back any time,” her smile was his favorite thing about her.

Lunchtime from then on meant heading to the dungeon decorated with Christmas lights and pictures of her family on the desk. There was no ring on her finger and only a picture of herself and her dog that she joked about as the longest relationship she had. It meant Harry sharing the sushi from the new place and her telling him that she had a chickpea Caesar salad recipe that he would love.

Harry dated several girls over the years, and each were lovely in their own way, but Gemma wasn’t exaggerating. There was something about the lovely girl he had known for the past few years that Harry didn’t know he was missing. Dates became far and few between. But Harry wasn’t brave enough to wreck their friendship. He didn’t want to be one of those statistics that attempted to date and not have it work out. He didn’t want to lose her by any stretch of the word.

If that meant being best friends, then that was what he would do.

So, she came to family events and confused the hell out of his friends. They didn’t touch (much to Harry’s chagrin) other than a hug or an arm squeeze like she gave him earlier. Neither said anything about the trill of something more bubbling below the surface. The electricity that pulsed from her fingertips and through his entire circulatory system. Harry was content to have her in his life in any form she existed because she was lovely and wonderful.

He only wished she opened up to him the slightest bit more.

Harry knew her favorite color and that her mom had passed away when she was eight. But there was this element of their friendship that she seemed to hold back. It felt like Harry would drink wine while they watched movies and dump all the things he felt from a young age on her. He told her things he didn’t tell anyone—not even Gemma or Niall or Mitch. He told her the inadequacies he felt, the impostor syndrome he felt at work, all of it. The anxiety he felt for the future and whether life would be what he wanted from it. She held each of his worries and fears in her hands like they were crystal glasses needing to be moved. She consoled him even though he was really over it. Assuaged him of all his worries and assured him that his life would be amazing simply because he was him. “Y’should have been a therapist, kitten,” he winked at her.

She smiled. “I’ve heard that before.”

She never reciprocated. There was a strength to her that waved off her. It was warm and everyone around her felt it. Her friends adored her, that much was obvious. But it was as if they were all so close to saying “we don’t need to worry about her.” She didn’t just console Harry. Everyone came to her for advice. The quiet lovely lady that worked in a dungeon and hid all of her thoughts and feelings. When they needed to vent, she was their phone call. Advice was her specialty. There was never judgment in her voice. No frustration or the feeling of pushing their worries aside. Every emotion her friends felt was valid and she would process and work through them as much as she possibly could.

When Harry was upset about a breakup—one that in hindsight he didn’t know why he even bothered—she didn’t make him feel bad that it had only been a short relationship. “Five months is a big deal,” she reminded him, placing a plate of his favorite tacos in front of him. It was her specialty. He wondered what came first, if she made tacos because she liked them or because he liked them. “You liked her a lot and five months is a big deal...it’s like a turning point. It was out of nowhere too. Anyone in their right mind would be upset,” she promised returning to the coffee table with her own plate. She sat on the floor across from him. He watched her eat a few bites wondering why on earth she was single for the umpteenth time.

“What’s your longest relationship?” He asked.

She snorted. “Um...a year, I think.”

“You think?”

She shrugged. “I don’t really date.”

The fact his heart cracked more at her words than the breakup he experienced the day before should have been his biggest clue that he was hopeless for the sweet girl.

“I noticed,” he smirked. “You’re too good for anyone, kitten,” he promised.

Her lips curled up in a half smile and she shook her head. “I don’t know about that.”

“S’okay, m’sure for you,” he winked making her laugh.

Harry didn’t date much after that either. Nothing serious; no more than a couple dates and setups from friends. Instead, he continued inviting her to family birthday parties and holidays where, naturally, everyone fell in love with her.

How could he blame his family and friends, really?

He was in the very same boat as them.

Gemma was having some minor trouble after delivering Harry’s sweet niece. The anxiety he felt was so overwhelming. His hands shook as his mum relayed the message. He stammered as he answered, dropped his keys. When he bent to retrieve them, her hand appeared in his vision, snatching them from the ground.

“No, I’ll drive,” she said firmly. Even if Harry wanted to argue he couldn’t.

She held Harry’s hand tightly on the middle console as she drove. Without any fanfare, she dropped him off in front of the main entrance and went off to find a parking spot. When he arrived in the waiting room, Anne was smiling as if there was no issue at all. “Wanna meet your niece?”

He did. Very badly. But his sister was his best friend. “What ‘bout Gemma?”

“She’s fine, Harry. Truly,” Anne assured him and rubbed his back.

They discussed the complications Gemma faced and all the worries Harry had for both her, Michal, and the sweet, adorable baby that was perfectly healthy and sleeping peacefully in the window alongside five or so other newborns.

They returned to the waiting room after Michal went back to the baby’s side. Anne squeezed Harry’s hand reassuringly once more and within moments, she was there. “I left my welcome gift at home in the rush to get here,” she appeared with overpriced objects from the giftshop. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes a bit dazed, and Harry sensed she was overwhelmed but assumed it was because of the surprise arrival of Harry’s niece and nothing more.

His heart rate slowed at her appearance. Like she was physical assurance that things really would be okay. She smiled at him, sighed, and gave Anne a hug. “Congrats Grandma,” her voice was proud and excited.

Harry couldn’t have asked for a better day.

Harry was a natural with babies. He was so at ease holding the newborn in his arms. “Think she’ll have our smile?” Gemma asked, showing off the very expression. He could hardly tear his eyes away from the baby but nodded at his sister’s question.

“Yeah,” he sighed smiling gratefully at the little one in his arms. He didn’t want to put her down. If he ever had children of his own, he had no idea how he was going to share. He had no idea how Gemma managed to fork her over to him in the first place—when all he wanted was to hold her anyway.

“Where did she go?”

“M’not sure,” he admitted. “Add money to the car meter, I think,” he shrugged. “I was told not t’worry about her.”

“Naturally.”

Harry frowned, brushing his finger along the baby’s soft cheek. “S’that supposed t’mean?”

“She doesn’t let anyone worry about her,” Gemma shrugged. “It’s probably pretty traumatic for her to be here,” Gemma’s tone had an air that she was reminding Harry of something he was supposed to remember, some event that he didn’t know. But he didn’t know what she was talking about.

“What do y’mean?”

Gemma tilted her head and shifted slightly in her bed. Michal and Anne were getting food from the cafeteria. “Harry, her mom died here,” she rolled her eyes.

Harry’s stomach rolled and he thought about the anxiety he felt coming to the hospital on behalf of his sister. It was nothing in comparison to the anxiety she must have felt.

Harry finally looked up from the sweet little baby and gazed at his sister. “She’s never told me that.”

Gemma frowned and relayed the story. Told her something about last Christmas. She thought that Harry knew because they were best friends. But Harry didn’t. It was one of those things she kept to herself. Gemma found her in the kitchen while everyone else was drinking and chatting in the family room. She told Gemma she was grateful to be part of a big Christmas like this. It had been a long time. But it made her miss her mom more than ever.

Then Gemma relayed the time she watched her excuse herself at a family wedding while the groom and mother dance. “Her family doesn’t do big celebrations like us,” Gemma told her. “That girl carries a ton of grief on her back and she acts like it weighs as much as a feather. She never worries about herself only others but in a way that makes you feel that nothing bad will ever happen to you. I swear just thinking about her in the delivery room and how calm she would have been was enough to keep me relaxed,” Gemma laughed and shook her head. “I told her I didn’t expect her to come to the hospital when the time came if she didn’t want to. I would never blame her. She said it wouldn’t be a problem because you wouldn’t bring her—it was a family thing. Do you have any idea how wonderful she is or are we just going to sit here and pretend the love of your life isn’t your best friend?”

Harry opened his mouth to respond. His eyes no longer on the baby, but his sister. Unable to believe the words she said. The outline to what he already knew and felt but couldn’t believe any more if he tried because it seemed so unattainable. The girl who didn’t tell him anything. Or didn’t want to be worried over.

But he was interrupted. “Look how cute this is,” she burst into the room holding a onesie that said “if my mom says no, my uncle will say yes.”

It gave the three of them a pause as Gemma laughed and Harry snorted. “S’true,” he murmured quietly to the tiny being in his arms.

Their giggles were interrupted by an intercom announcement. A code purple and it asked that all visitors and personnel stay on their current floors. The smile slowly faded from her lips, and she glanced at the baby in Harry’s arms. “You look good with a baby,” she winked the smile gently returned. She gave his shoulder a squeeze, laid the onesie on the cot Michal would be sleeping in later. “M’gonna run to the bathroom,” she said.

Harry watched her leave, the first time he had looked at anyone other than the baby for longer than thirty seconds since he met the little one.

“Harry,” Gemma said gently. “You should follow her.”

“What? Why?”

“Do you know what a code purple is?” Harry shook his head. “Missing child.”

Harry looked at the baby again and sighed. “Well, if anyone will find her...”

“It would probably be Miss Wonder Woman herself, yeah?” Gemma finished Harry’s thought.

She couldn’t have gotten far if the stairwells and elevators were blocked off. He searched as much as the rest of the staff on the floor, sending his mum a text that everyone in their little family was fine. Fortunately (for Harry), there was a commotion with one of the patients on the floor and the person standing guard at the stairwell stepped away long enough for Harry to sneak to the next floor. Because he may have felt that she hid a lot from him at times, but he was certain if anyone was going to find a lost little girl, it was going to be her—even if he didn’t know why she wanted to find her.

The enormity of the steps muffled most of the sound, but Harry crept around the back of the stairwell, and found a little storage closet.

“It’s not fair!” It was a small, sad voice that Harry didn’t recognize.

“It’s not,” she agreed. Her voice even, sad in a different way, was one that Harry did recognize.

“Mommy says I have to be brave for my siblings and I’m trying but it’s not fair! I don’t even get to be sad,” she cried.

“I know,” she agreed again. Composed, like she was talking someone off a ledge. Maybe she was, Harry didn’t really know what was happening. But her understanding was tangible. Her soft voice made Harry feel so safe.

But it broke his heart right in half.

“It’s because I’m oldest. Mommy tells me that I’m being a big girl and being brave and helping Daddy get better but I’m not. I don’t want to be here, it’s not fair.”

“I know,” she repeated. “My mommy died when I was your age too. She was really sick. I had to take care of my little brothers and my daddy,” she explained. “It was really hard. I didn’t think I was allowed to cry because I was good at being brave.”

The answer was a sniffle, not words. Harry felt terrible for not knowing this. For never pressing. For finding out in a stairwell with a little girl that neither of them knew. “But do you know who is most worried about you right now while everyone else is worried about your daddy?”

“Who?” There was a big breath of silence. Something that Harry didn’t understand passed between them. Some sort of recognition of the situation they were both privy to and Harry was not. “Daddy doesn’t know I’m there.”

“He does, sweetie, I promise,” she assured her. “Let’s get you back to him.”

“I just want to cry,” she whispered.

“I know. You will. It’s good to cry. Brave even.”

“Mommy says I’m brave for not crying.”

There was a pause for a moment that Harry couldn’t describe. He couldn’t see his best friend nor the little girl that the entire hospital was searching for. But the grief and weight he felt in that little space was immense.

“Mommy will tell you you’re brave for crying too,” she promised. But it was filled with an emotion that Harry couldn’t quite name; but he was sure he sensed a bit of longing in her tone.

He watched her grab the little one’s hand. Like she was grabbing the hand of her younger self. Harry hoped it healed whatever that sense of longing was and whatever she remembered in that quiet pause.

When she turned and saw Harry waiting, her cheeks reddened. She looked away briefly. “Look who I found,” she smiled sweetly. Not a trace of sadness on her face, not even a tear.

Harry hoped she would cry later. Hoped she would tell him everything. He was aching for it. Aching to carry the metric ton of grief she held for so long.

“Made another friend?” Harry asked instead.

She squeezed the girl’s hand. “I think so.”

“You okay, love?” Truthfully, Harry wasn’t sure who he was asking.

The little girl sniffled, her eyes blotchy red and glassy. She looked up at Harry shyly but also with awe. “Are you a prince?”

Harry chuckled and she smiled—the exact reprieve anyone could have hoped for in that moment. “He is,” she smiled kindly. “You’ll find a best friend just like him too,” she promised.

Fortunately, Miss Wonder Woman coaxed the little one back onto the floor and with the commotion of her return, she and Harry snuck right back in. No one questioned them. He wondered if the little girl would even mention her to her mom or the staff. But she was unconcerned—glad the little girl was okay and safe.

“How did you know where she was?” He asked.

She didn’t say anything. Watched the reunion of her mom and her brothers. The sadness flowing through a whole family like a virus.

“Love,” he tried to gather her attention but was unsuccessful. They stood in the waiting room watching from afar. The whole hospital began its routine again.

She wasn’t recognized for finding the little girl.

“Kitten,” he cooed. “Talk to me.”

She sniffled, wiped below her eyes.

“Love,” he touched her arm. It broke something in her. Her lower lip wiggled as she fought back the emotions and tears that she felt bubbling up from somewhere deep inside her.

“Uh...sorry. I just couldn’t—” she cleared her throat and wiped below her eyes again.

“Love, you don’t—”

“Does Gemma need anything? I bet a code purple probably scared a first time—”

“Kitten.” Her shoulders heaved and she tried to continue talking, something about helping or understanding. Something about Gemma and Anne and Michal. “Angel, y’need t’stop,” he whispered quietly, as her sobs took over. Her hands covered her face and she turned toward him. Her body shaking and Harry wrapped her up in his arms. Held cupped the back of her head as she cried and he wanted it to stop. It hurt him so much to feel that pain through her. It wasn’t even his pain. He imagined all those moments in the last few years where she hid her own pain to take care of others.

“I couldn’t cry,” she croaked.

Harry didn’t want her to cry now but he was glad she was.

“I know, angel,” he didn’t. But he would pretend. Because she was there for every emotion that he had felt since he met her, and it never stopped her. She never made him feel bad for feeling any type of way. He would do anything to make her feel the same. “I know,” he sighed and squeezed her as tightly as he could worried he might hurt her but worried she would fully break apart if she didn’t.

Harry’s bed was her new favorite place. “I owe you some new pillowcases,” she whispered.

“Kitten, jus’ worry ‘bout yourself for a change,” he kissed her forehead, almost directly between her eyebrows. It made her feel like she was made of putty.

“I am, if I’m going to be sleeping here, I can’t get dirty from all my tears and snot.”

He chuckled. “I’ll get new pillowcases if y’sleep here.”

“You don’t mind?”

Did he mind her sleeping there? Or getting new pillowcases? “Neither, love,” his fingers trailed up and down her spine. “S’nice, yeah?”

She nodded. “Been thinking about it a while,” she whispered.

“Shoulda said something,” he hummed quietly. “Anything that’s mine, s’yours.”

“Anything?”

“Mhmm.”

“Even the secret chocolate stash you have in the oatmeal box?”

He chuckled. “All yours.”

“What about that candle in your kitchen that you light after you finish cleaning?”

“I’ll put your name on it.”

She was quiet for a minute. She inhaled the warm scent of his cologne poking at the freckles that dotted his collarbones and neck at sporadic intervals. Once the tears started, she couldn’t stop. Hence the need for new pillowcases. Her skin felt raw, blotchy, her head hurt a bit from the lack of water.

But Harry was there the whole time. He didn’t shy away once. Simply let her cry for all the times she didn’t because she needed to be brave and all the times she wanted to anyway. Eventually she whispered all the things she kept from him. From everyone. Even herself.

“Harry?” She whispered.

“Yes, kitten?”

“I know this is lame, but I didn’t date a whole lot growing up because I never felt like good things could happen to me. I always worried it would be taken away and... anyway... I don’t know how to ask this, because it sounds so lame but you’re my best friend so maybe you’ll know what I’m saying and—”

“I told y’anything that’s mine is yours, angel,” his smile was lazy but beautiful. Like this was the most normal thing he’d ever done with her. Everything about him was beautiful. From the surface of his skin to the depths of his soul.

So it shouldn’t have been a surprise that her best friend already knew what she wanted to say.

His lips brushed against her temple. Her heart finally felt at ease. “Course I want t’be your boyfriend. You have my whole heart.”

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissitnhekitchen @kittenhere @stylesfever @indierockgirrl @michellekstyles

@just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows @hannah9921

@fangirl7060

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

#harry #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles angst #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #hs #hs fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles concept #harry styles one shot #one direction #one direction writing

247 notes · View notes

stevie-petey · 12 hours

Text

chapter six: e pluribus unum

“There’s my pretty girl!” Steve giggles, head lolling to the side as he admires you. “Isn’t she the prettiest, Robin?” Robin giggles as well, her face just as bruised and bloodied as his. “So pretty!” “Oh God,” despite their injured state, the two teens are in an unusually good mood. They giggle like school girls, Robin even bats her eyelashes at you. Something is off with them. “How hard did they hit your heads?”

Summary: things get hot and heavy in the face of death, mean russians kidnap your hot almost-boyfriend, you have a philosophical discussion about nerdiness with the kids, acid becomes your new favorite weapon, and steve and robin try drugs together. yippee !

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, violence, cursing, blood and mentions of death, use of weapons

Words: 6.7k

Before you swing in: oh BOY do i have a lot to say about this chapter ,,, but for now i will hold off. pls, enjoy her. youve all waited so very patiently for this moment, and im SO excited to see what yall have to say <333

“The gate,” you, Steve, and Dustin breathe out at the same time. You stare at the machine before you; the gravity of the situation settles upon all of you as the machine continues to send pulses of light into the entrance of the Upside Down.

The lights flash, the blue flickers across your face as countless men in lab coats marvel at their creation, and your hands tighten into fists. What they have created will only undo the endless hours you have spent trying to protect everyone, it diminishes every sacrifice that has been made, it taunts the blood that has been spilled.

You hate them, you hate what they have brought back into your life.

“We have to get out of here.” No one argues with you, and quickly you guide everyone downstairs.

“What’s going on?” Robin asks as you gently push her down the stairs, quickening her pace. The urgence of your actions, however, only alert her that something is wrong. “Why do you guys look so scared?”

Days of hiding the truth from her have finally caught up to you, you can feel it, and yet there isn’t anything you can really tell her. Not yet, at least; there isn’t enough time. Hurrying down the stairs, you shake your head at Robin. “It’s a lot to explain.”

“I don’t understand, you’ve seen this before?”

She’s always been too perceptive.

You hate her genius mind.

“Not exactly.” Steve takes over now, trying to help.

Robin’s voice raises, she’s becoming inpatient. “Then what, exactly?”

Two of them argue and Dustin joins in, though you ignore them and reach the last step to start looking for any possible weapons in the room. If you guys have even the slightest chance of making it out of here alive, then you’ll need more than your switchblade and Steve’s surprising new combat skills.

As your eyes scan the room, you realize, too late, that the Russian guard Steve had knocked out only minutes ago is now gone. Horrified, you frantically whip your head to find him, but the man is gone.

Wonderful.

Erica notices this too. “Um, Steve? Where’s your Russian friend?”

With impeccable comedic timing, lights begin to flicker above you as an alarm sounds. Seems the Russian guard snitched, then.

“Oh, shit!” Your switchblade finds its way into your hand. This just keeps getting worse and worse.

Steve curses as well and sprints to the door to open it, trying to find another way out, but instead he finds a swarm of guards all staring back at him. Cursing again, he slams the door shut. He doesn’t have to say anything, you know by the look on his face that you’re in deep shit. “Go, go, go!”

Blindly you shove Dustin and Erica into the nearest door, tugging at Robin, and Steve takes the rear as the group starts to run. Your senses are in overdrive, your head swims with anxiety and your eyes flicker to any possible way out. Your legs ache with exertion, but you have no fucking idea where you are.

You make a sharp right and open a random door, but almost immediately you stumble to a halt when you see that it’s the room to the goddamn machine opening the Upside Down. Of course this is the room you chose. The scientists all stare at you, and you really wish you had stayed in bed yesterday. “Fuck!”

“Go, Y/N!” Dustin yanks on your arm and goes left, finding stairs to run down.

You risk a quick look over your shoulder and your heart drops when you see that the Russian guards are close behind. “We got company!” You’re on the landing platform now, too close to the machine and the gate for your own comfort. Dustin screeches as he shoves a Russian against the railing. You wince, feeling bad despite the horrible circumstances. “Sorry!”

“Why are you apologizing to the Russians–holy shit–” Gripping the back of your brother’s shirt, you save him from face planting into the giant laser beam. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!”

Steve and the others have joined now, and you realize how helplessly cornered the five of you are. You’re standing on the edge of the platform and the laser’s heat can be felt even six feet away while twenty armed Russian soldiers approach from behind.

Defeated, helpless, terrified, you turn to the person whose hand rests gently on the small of your back; the only person who gives you solace. “Steve.”

It’s all you can say, your knees feel weak and your body turns to his, helpless. You don’t know what else to do. Steve’s eyes find yours, he can feel Dustin looking to him for help as well. Robin, Erica. Everyone is looking to him, and yet he’s just as terrified.

“This way!” He doesn’t know where he’s going, he just knows that he has to protect you. Running back down the stairs, he shoves a guard that blocks the path and you’re right behind him, pushing barrels at more guards that round the corner so that no one else can follow.

“Go!” You wave the others ahead, now taking the rear with Steve. The two of you do whatever you can to slow the Russians down as Robin leads the kids towards another door. You’re all blindly running through the endless walls of the facility.

The door flies open and everyone rushes into the room.

Everything happens quickly after that.

Steve slams the door while you hold the kids behind you, away from the door and fearful of the bullets that may rain through it. Steve braces his back against the door. The Russians pound the frame from the other side.

Madly looking around for any sign of an exit, your body fills with unbearable dread when you realize that you’ve locked yourselves in a room without any way out.

Dustin’s scared hand grips at your arm. He seems to realize what you already have. “Shit!”

“Robin!” Steve calls out to her, desperate. He’s rapidly losing his footing to hold his position as the guards’ fists rage a relentless war. “Help me, come on!”

She runs to him and throws her back against the door as well, and the distress in Steve’s voice only hastens you as you run around the room. There has to be a way out. You refuse to die like this, far below Hawkins and the sunlight you’ve come to love within the small town.

Breath quickening, you rush up the steps within the room and drag Dustin along with you. Robin’s face is red now, Steve’s feet keep slipping, and from the force of which the door they hold thuds, you know the guards have started to throw their own bodies against it.

Something creeks below your foot. You look down and inexplicably hope jumps into your chest. There’s a vent grate, this entire underground facility is full of air ducts, it’s how you got into this entire fucking mess in the first place. “Here! I found something!”

Erica joins you and Dustin and quickly the three of you pry the vent open. You help Erica lower herself inside, instructing her to start crawling, now, when Dustin shouts down to Robin and Steve. “Come on!”

“Go! Just get out of here!” Steve screams back, groaning as the pounding on the door becomes more and more violent.

Your hand, which had been on your brother’s back, ready to help him inside the air duct next, stills. Your entire body freezes as you look over at Steve, ice cold fear crawls up your neck; doubt creeps in as you realize, far too late, that there isn’t enough time for them to escape into the vent.

There never seems to be enough time.

But you have to try anyway. All you ever do is try, you will die trying, you just can’t let it be in vain. “Steve, Robin, let’s go!”

Steve clenches his teeth as another body throws itself against the door. Through his exertion he can see how pale you are now, the realization that dawns on you that you will have to leave him behind, and Steve wishes he could kiss the despair off of your pretty face. “No! Just go and get some help, okay?”

“I–I can’t–” Dustin tugs at your shirt to come with him, but your body is unmoving. You can’t, you won’t leave them behind, Steve’s biceps strain against the doorframe and Robin groans in pain, and yet your brother’s fearful grip on you reminds you of your responsibility to him as well. To protect him, to get Erica home, be with them.

But Steve is in danger. He needs you.

You don’t know what to do.

“Y/N!” Dustin calls after you as you tear yourself away from him.

Blindly, as your vision darkens and the terror in your body threatens to consume you, you stumble down the steps towards Steve. You need to be close to him, it’s all your mind and body can register as the roaring in your head nearly deafens you.

As soon as you’re in front of him, grasping at his shoulders to try and take him with you, Steve pushes you away. “Y/N, you need to leave–”

“I’m not leaving you!” The shrillness scares even yourself, the sheer desperation to stay with Steve comes deep from within your chest as you scream at him. You’re panicking now, angry at him for even considering the idea that you’d ever leave him. As if you haven’t just gotten him back.

You’re never letting go of him now that you have him.

Not again.

Robin tries to reason with you herself, distantly you think she pleads with you, but your vision tunnels and all you can see is Steve. Your body hums with the need for his.

“Y/N, listen to me,” Another thud against the door, Robin’s foot slips, and Steve has to throw his head back and brace for yet another impact. He’s angry at you, too. For not listening to him. For how you’ve always blindly sacrificed yourself, harmed yourself to protect others.

Steve won’t let you hurt yourself anymore, not when he can save you.

Not again.

“The kids need you–”

“I need you!” Tears wet your face now, you’re clutching at Steve’s shirt as Dustin continues to scream at you to run, to not abandon him, and it feels as if you can’t breathe as words begin to tumble from your mouth with hysteria. “We–we can run, right now! You’re fast, and–and Robin can jump and–”

Steve’s lips crash against yours.

He’s weak and scared and helpless; this is the only way he knows how to get you to listen.

You breathe in sharply as his lips move against yours, you melt into him. He pours everything into the kiss, your teeth knock against his and your hands find his hair, tugging at it as Steve tries to convey everything that time won’t allow him to.

The kiss is rushed, it’s messy and it’s aching, and through it Steve begs you. To love him despite the fact that he has to leave you, that he’s doing this for you, he begs you to remember him, and selfishly he kisses you because he doesn’t want to die knowing he’s wasted half the damn summer without ever knowing how your lips felt against his.

It isn’t death that terrifies Steve, it’s the idea that he almost died without knowing how you tasted.

When Steve finally pulls away, you’re too shocked to move. His lips are tinged pink and his brown eyes are dark in the lighting and you’re both breathless. Your hands remain in his hair, all you can register is how the strands feel between your fingers and that Dustin is now at your side, yanking at your arm to follow him back towards the vent.

Numbly you allow Steve’s hands to help Dustin move your limp body, your feet rise to reach the steps. The warmth of Steve’s body is gone now. Faintly you feel your brother’s firm, but gentle, hands as he shoves you inside the vent.

There’s a tugging within your chest suddenly, an overwhelming sensation to turn around, and abruptly you come back to yourself. The roaring in your head quiets for only a moment, the lights are bright and Dustin’s fingers dig into your skin, yet still your eyes find Steve.

He’s far below you now, the Russians have almost broken through the door, and his kiss still sears your lips. Urgently, viciously, you scream the only thing you can think of that encompasses all the love and terror within you, “Come home to me!”

Steve opens his mouth to promise you that he will, he always will. You can hear the promise even before he’s said it, but the doors burst open and Dustin slams the vent’s grate down.

You ran out of time.

The echo of the grate’s slam rings in your ears.

–

Erica is the one that guides you through the air ducts.

You haven’t said anything since leaving Steve and Robin behind; it’s been hours now, and yet still you do not speak.

Dustin crawls behind you, worried. He watches your body shake slightly as you crawl through the narrow space. His stomach lurches when he notices how white your knuckles have become from how tightly you clench your fists.

You’re clinging onto what little resolve you have left, it’s evident to Dustin, and he worries about when, not if, you’ll finally snap. He knows that now isn’t the right time to initiate a code blue, but he’s concerned seeing you so broken. He hates that he can’t do anything, that he dragged you away from the others.

The air inside the ducts is warm, almost nauseatingly so, and the ringing in your ears has yet to fade. Steve’s kiss still burns your lips. His promise to you, that he would return and come back home to you, the promise that he couldn’t make, drowns out all of your other thoughts.

Come home to me.

He hadn’t had time to answer you.

The thought nauseates you more than the sickening heat that surrounds you. You left him. Robin, too.

You left them both behind, just like you left Will behind the night the Demogorgon got him. And the kids, that night when you abandoned them at the middle school and left them vulnerable to that fucking monster. And Jonathan, when he thought his brother had died and you were too lost in your self pity when he needed you the most.

Now, after promising Steve you’d stay, sworn in the passenger seat of his car as the snow fell around you both, you’ve left him once more.

Take all the time you need, I’ll be here.

The promises you’ve made burn so deeply that a wince escapes your lips, and Dustin quietly asks if you’re okay.

“‘M fine,” you manage to rasp out, crawling forward despite the tormented tugging that begs you to turn around.

You hear Dustin’s lips part, he doesn’t believe you and wants to argue, but you keep your head turned away from him and he instead settles on sighing. You’re not ready to talk about it, not yet. Not now, not when you feel as if you’ve lost a piece of yourself.

Erica turns a corner and starts to slow down. “Fans up ahead.”

“Great,” Dustin groans when he sees the giant blades spinning, blocking the way forward. “Think we could time it right and jump through them?”

“If you wanna lose a head, sure.” Erica snorts, unpleased with the risky idea. “Don’t you have tools in those lame ass cargo shorts you’re wearing?”

“My cargo shorts aren’t lame…”

You sit quietly as Dustin and Erica try and figure out what to do. You’re still in shock, you can’t gather the energy to try and help them. It’s like a switch has been flipped inside of you, deactivating your ability to do anything other than be plagued with the crippling sensation of loss.

Eventually Erica convinces Dustin to try and break into the control panel next to the fans and shut them down manually. He pulls a screwdriver from one of his pockets (to Erica’s utter amusement), and starts unscrewing the bolts. Through it all, you remain quiet, and when Dustin looks over at you, he finds you staring blankly at the walls with an almost lifeless gaze.

He sighs. Needing to distract himself, Dustin figures now is as good a time as any to explain everything to Erica. The Russians, why they’re here, why you’ve almost lost your mind trying to protect everyone. “It all started the night Will disappeared, two years ago.”

Dustin explains the Upside Down, the Demogorgon and how it was able to travel to their world through a gate El had accidentally opened with her powers, and now how the Russians have somehow found this gate and are attempting to reopen it.

Erica, to her credit, listens. She doesn’t question a thing, and Dustin is surprised by her lack of sarcastic input, but when he finishes explaining everything, the girl only has doubts about one thing: Lucas being involved.

“Wait, so you believe everything about El and the gate, and the Demodogs and the Mind Flayer, but you question your brother’s involvement?” Dustin asks the girl, in disbelief of how her mind works.

“That’s correct.”

Then, surprising them both, you finally speak. “Lucas is brave, Erica. He’s done a lot for the party.”

Erica’s stony expression softens slightly, her usual argumentative demeanor backs down. “Yeah, well. Whatever. You’re damn lucky it’s your birthday and I feel bad for you.”

It’s not much, but you know that she’s spared you her malice. For once you accept the sympathy, even if your luck has run out hours ago when Steve kissed you and then tore you apart. “Lucky,” you snort. “Yeah.”

Dustin and Erica look at one another wearily, though you pretend you don’t see it. After a few heartbeats, your brother clears his throat and goes back to unscrewing the control panel.

“Um, you need help with that?” Erica asks the boy, doubtful of his capabilities. When Dustin tells her no, she doubles down. “I mean, it’s taking a while, so–”

Dustin huffs at her. “Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.”

“Don’t cuss at her.” You butt in, but Erica has already started back with her arguing.

She claims that at the slow pace you’re going, Steve and Robin stand no chance, and her words make the nausea claw up your throat. Dustin notices the way you clutch at your stomach and he quickly tries to reason with Erica, maybe say that she’s wrong, but the girl only continues to talk.

“I mean, we’ve made it about point-three miles in nine hours.” Erica looks down at her watch as she speaks, but her eyes almost swim with the numbers you assume she invisions in her mind. “Then we had to walk three hours down that tunnel, so I’d estimate ten miles back to the elevator, which should take us approximately twelve and a half days.”

You and Dustin look at each other, baffled. No way Erica managed to come up with those numbers all on her own. Sure, you’ve always secretly suspected that she was more intelligent than she let on, but Jesus. You can hardly remember the multiples of seven on a good day.

“Did you just do all of that in your head?” Dustin asks her, eyes wide with astonishment.

Erica shrugs. “I’m good with numbers.”

“That’s an understatement,” you mumble under your breath, though you’re starting to feel more like yourself again. Dustin calls Erica a nerd, which she adamantly denies, and the light hearted conversation almost seems to draw you out of your state of shock, albeit slowly.

Your brother lists off all the proof he has of Erica’s “nerdiness” and you listen, chuckling. The genuine offense on the girl’s face is hard not to laugh at, and when Dustin sees that it seems to be cheering you up, he doubles down on his efforts.

“Fact number three: you love My Little Pony.” He holds up Erica’s backpack that has two ponies printed across it, which you snort at.

Erica crosses her arms defensively. “And what does My Little Pony have to do with this?”

“Let’s recall the ponies’ latest adventure, shall we?” Dustin clears his throat and begins retelling the tales of the ponies, and you cannot believe that your fourteen year old brother still watches the show and pays enough attention to understand its themes and narrative. “Ergo, My Little Pony is nerdy. Ergo, you, Erica, are a nerd.”

“Not to take sides,” you poke your head between the two kids. “But why do you know so much about the show, Dustin?”

“Because I’m a nerd.” He manages to get the control panel open and rips the wires out of it. Electric sparks fly as they disconnect and the fans behind you slowly come to a stop. “Now, let’s go, nerds.”

Erica glares at him before turning to you. “Do you watch My Little Pony, Y/N?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m not that pathetic. I read comics instead, like the mature seventeen year old I am.”

The girl rolls her eyes at you, entirely over you and your brother, and starts crawling through the air ducts once more. As she leaves, Dustin stays behind. “Hey,”

His hand wraps around your arm and stops you from following Erica. You pause, confused as to what he may want. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?” In the lighting, for just a moment, Dustin looks up at you and he’s the nine year old little boy who once feared you would get lost in your mother’s grief and father’s anger.

The last icy tendrils of shock melt, you come back to yourself when you hear your little brother’s fear for his sister. Taking Dustin’s hand into yours, you squeeze it. “Of course I’m okay. I have you.”

Dustin laughs softly, relief evident within his exhale, and you yank his hat off of his head to break the remaining tension away. He lunges for it, betrayed, though he laughs again anyways, and for a few seconds it’s just the two of you giggling to yourselves as you fight over the hat.

“Are you two shitbirds coming, or do I gotta kill those Commies on my own?” Erica shouts, now on the other side of the air duct.

With one last tug, Dustin tears the hat from your grasp and sticks his tongue out at you. “Last one to Erica owes the other $5!” He starts speed crawling towards the girl, giving you absolutely no chance of winning, and you hang your head in defeat and sigh.

The fucker owes you so much money already.

–

It takes hours.

Back aching and knees bruised, you crawl behind the kids in the seemingly endless maze that resides in the facility’s air ducts. It’s similar to the tunnels you walked through what feels like years ago originally, with Steve holding your hand through it all, though you know it couldn’t have been less than a day ago now.

The entire time, your mind doesn’t once quiet its concern for Steve and Robin. Just when the pounding in your head becomes splitting, Dustin stops you and Erica.

“Y/N, help me remove the vent.”

“Why, what’s up there?” You’re next to him, squinting through the grate’s small holes. All you see are what appear to be a line of vaults, though it’s hard to tell. “I don’t see anyone.”

Dustin starts prying at the vent. “Exactly, there’s no one up there and look, can’t you see it?”

You squint again, getting even closer to the holes to peer inside. Something glows bright green on one of the vault’s shelfs. “Is that…?”

“Uh huh. Now help me, will you?”

It takes a minute or so before you’re able to pry the vent open. Together, the two of you slowly lift your heads through the opening and look around. The room you’ve ended up in is empty. Along its walls are rows of vaults with multiple vials of the green chemicals you found in the elevator.

You’re not entirely sure what your brother has in mind, but you know it can’t be anything good.

“Jackpot!” Dustin breathes out with newfound exhilaration. He climbs out of the air duct first and eagerly starts looking around while you help Erica out.

The two kids look around in amazement, but you survey the area out of habit. It’s too quiet within the room. Being so close to the chemicals again leaves you on edge. “Stay close to me, we don’t know who could be nearby–”

“Oh!” Dustin abandons your caution in a heartbeat. He starts running down the steps, and when you see what’s gotten him so excited, you follow after him. There’s a cart right at the bottom of the stairs, parked to the side without anyone in it.

It could be your ticket out of here, if you’re lucky.

“Do you even know how to drive?” Erica teases Dustin, but you step past her and join him to inspect the vehicle.

He waves an indifferent hand at her. “How hard can it be? Max did it.”

“That was the worst car ride of my life” You shiver at the memory. The taste of blood fills your mouth and you can almost feel the bruises again. Shaking your head, you force yourself to focus. “Think you could hotwire this?”

Dustin furrows his brows and ducks his head under the wheel. He shuffles around, mumbling to himself, before he curses. “No, it’s one of those fancy, expensive carts. Which is goddamn ironic for people who hate wealth. We need a key.”

“Okay, that’s not how Communism necessarily works–”

“Did you two seriously think they’d leave keys in there?” Erica interrupts you, cutting straight to the point as she always does.

Dustin starts digging around the cart now. He checks the mirror compartment, under the seat, wherever his hands can reach. “There’s gotta be a spare…” When he comes up with nothing, he shoves you out of the cart. “Go and look inside the vault room.”

“A ‘please’ wouldn’t hurt.” Though you do as you’re told, trusting that the room is secure enough to leave him and Erica alone for a few minutes as you look.

There are vials everywhere, but no signs of a spare key. You wander the rows, the green liquid glows ominously. Drawing your face closer to one of the vials, the liquid bubbles in its glass container. This small, inconspicuous vial is what melted cement back at the elevator.

An idea comes to you.

“Dustin,” you call over your shoulder, eyes still on the chemical. “What if we grabbed some of these vials and used them as some kind of weapon? I mean, it’s some pretty powerful stuff.” No one responds, which you frown at. It’s then that you realize it’s become suspiciously quiet, and with your heartbeat in your throat, you run back towards the kids.

You find Dustin with spare keys in his hand, a proud smile on his face. “Found ‘em.”

“I’m going to start making you pay me every time you give me a goddamn heart attack.” A hand rests against your chest as you try to lower your heart rate. “I mean, this just can’t be good for me–”

A loud, spine tingling crack of electricity zaps behind you.

Screaming, you jump at the noise and into Dustin’s side. You both turn around, coming face to face with a giant electric prod held by a smiling Erica.

“What the hell is that?” Dustin shouts at her, fear still in his voice.

“A deadly weapon.” She zaps it again and the sound is deafening. “Could be useful.”

Both hands on your chest now, you hunch over and try to not to have a heart attack right then and there. “You kids are going to kill me one day.” You swallow, take a deep breath. “God, why can’t we stick with knives? They’re quiet, quaint. Not at all terrifying.”

“Knives against Commies? I thought you wanted to save your boyfriend, Y/N.” Erica swings the prod as she speaks and you hold your hands up.

“Let’s not swing that around, okay? The last thing I need today is to be electrocuted by that thing.” When she lowers the prod, you continue. “But… you should keep it. It’ll be useful for saving Steve and Robin.”

Dustin steps in front of you. “Wait a minute, aren’t you always lecturing me about being realistic? We don’t even know where they are.”

“And aren’t you always lecturing me about putting the party first?” You can’t believe that Dustin isn’t tearing the place apart to find Steve. “We can’t just leave them here. No way you think I’d let you do that.”

“But there are a million guards up there with weapons way deadlier than that!” He points at Erica’s electric prod. He starts walking towards the cart, keys in hand, and beckons you to get inside it as well. “Admit it, the best thing we can do for them is get out of here and find help. Our chance of surviving, and theirs, rises substantially.”

“No.” You don’t step foot in the cart.

“Just trust me on this.” Dustin tries to get you into the cart, but you plant your feet on the ground and refuse to move. “Y/N, please don’t be difficult right now.”

“I said no.” Your voice hardens. Dustin has never been one to back away from a challenge, and yet here he is. Accepting defeat and leaving Steve and Robin to suffer the consequences of it. You’ve always been the first to stand behind realism, to denounce insane ideas and stunts that the party always manages to get itself into, but this time it’s different.

Somewhere within these walls, your friends are facing unimaginable terrors. They sacrificed themselves to save you and the kids. Once again, Steve Harrington has saved your life.

And you’ve always evened out your debts to him.

“We’re going to look for them.” You walk back into the vault room and start grabbing vial after vial of chemicals. There’s an air of authority in your demeanor, daring the kids to argue with you. You’re taking control now after being numb for so long. Dustin follows you, tries to argue, but you continue grabbing vials from the shelves as a plan forms in your head. “We are going to grab as many of these as we can, load them up into the cart, and then drive around this shithole until we find our friends.”

You shove the vials into Dustin’s arms. He blinks at you, this is the most clear headed he’s seen you since descending down in the elevator. Marching back towards the cart, you place your own vials down. “Then, we are going to use whatever chemical this is to cause a distraction. We’ll melt something, maybe cause a fire. I don’t give a shit what we do. All I know is that we are going to then save our friends and get the fuck out of this hellscape. Do I make myself clear?”

Dustin and Erica stare at you, jaws slacked, both now sitting in the cart. Taking their silence as a yes, you nod, pleased. “Fantastic. Now, my dear brother, start driving or I will. Either way: we’re leaving.”

He gulps and tightens his hands on the steering wheel. When you’ve settled into the back of the vehicle, he starts the cart. “Let’s go, then.”

As Dustin drives, Erica twists in her seat to look at you. She’s impressed, albeit still slightly terrified. “Have you always been so scary?”

“Yes. I just hide it well. Makes it more useful when I need it.”

–

You’ve just finished counting the vials when Erica seems to decide now is an appropriate time to ask invasive questions.

“So what do you see in that hair guy?”

“You mean Steve?” Although, you suppose that hair guy is a pretty good indicator for him.

Erica nods. “Yeah, I just don’t understand how someone like him could impress you. He wears a sailor’s uniform and flings ice cream all day long.”

You’re oddly touched by this, though her description of Steve makes you sad. He’s so much more than just some guy who scoops ice cream. He’s brave, selfless, sensitive, and kind. “Don’t give me too much credit. There’s a lot you don’t know about Steve.”

She makes a disgusted face. “Yuck. It sounds like you love the guy.”

Dustin cringes and looks disgusted as well. He doesn’t want to hear his sister waxing and waning about his friend. “Can we not talk about that right now?”

Erica pinches his side, causing him to nearly crash the cart into the wall. “I’m an inquisitive person and clearly they’re in love. Y/N almost bit your head off when you suggested abandoning him.”

“Okay, I didn’t suggest abandoning him.”

“It’s just the facts!”

They argue, forgetting that you’re there. However, you need the distraction, and talking about Steve has always made you feel braver than you really are. A smile spreads across your face when you think about him. The words spill from your mouth without any effort. “I do love Steve.”

Dustin’s arguing fades away. His eyes meet yours in the cart’s rearview mirror. He already knew that you loved Steve, but to hear you say it, to see the blush that invades your face whenever you talk about him, it makes everything more real. Guilt washes over him. He wanted you to leave the boy you love behind.

“Look,” Dustin sighs. He needs to get this off of his chest. “I’m sorry about telling you to leave Steve and–”

A scream echoes within the hall. It’s feminine, familiar.

“Robin,” your stomach twists. She’s alive. And close. She has to be close if you can hear her screams. You grab Dustin’s shoulder. “Go!”

He slams on the gas and the cart picks up speed. Rounding the corner, he brakes harshly and you’re in yet another hallways. It’s silent, there isn’t anyone there. You close your eyes, you’re close. You can feel it, but you can’t locate them if you don’t know where they are.

“C’mon, Robin, “ you plead. “Help us find you.”

Another scream, this time it sounds even closer.

“That way!” Erica points left, and there’s no time to doubt if she’s right. The three of you jump out the cart and grab the chemicals. Dustin also grabs the electric prod, and then you all start running.

Robin screams again, and this time you can place which door it comes from. Adrenaline rushes through you. You have to work fast. At the end of the hall you see what looks to be an alarm switch on the wall. It wasn’t a part of your plan earlier, but it’ll have to do.

“Erica, go to the switch down there. When I say go, you press it. Alright?” She nods at you, quickening her pace. You turn to Dustin next, grabbing the vials from him. “Get the prod ready. I’ll throw the vials.”

When you get to the door that separates you from Robin, you press your ear against it. Voices are muffled, but still Steve's voice comes through as well. Your heart jumps. He’s with her. He’s alive as well.

Erica stands at the end of the hall and you hold your palm up, signaling her to wait. Looking at Dustin, he nods at you and holds the prod to his chest. Taking a deep breath, you start throwing the vials harshly against the floor.

You use all the anger within you to guide what little strength you have left. The anger drives you, it propels the vials, it shatters them. The chemicals spill everywhere. The cement floor begins to erode away, sizzling. After you’ve thrown your last one, you shout to Erica, “Now!”

Alarms sound overhead. Erica runs back towards you and you shove the kids behind a barrel. Within seconds the hallway fills with Russian guards and they swarm around the melted floor, but you keep your eyes on the door. Silently you beg for your plan to work. The door has to open, whoever is inside has to come and investigate the damage you’ve caused.

An agonizing three seconds pass. Sweat drips down your face. Then, a man comes crashing out of the door. He marches down the hallway and disappears when he turns the corner. As soon as he’s gone, Dustin slams through the door. There’s a man dressed in doctor’s scrubs within the room, but your brother attacks him with the prod and knocks him out quickly.

Erica and Dustin stand over the unconscious man. They’re surprised the plan has worked. Yet all you see is Steve.

Everything else fades away. He’s tied to a chair, his face is bleeding. You run towards him, uncaring about whatever else may be in the room. A whole fucking army of Russians could be standing next to you right now and you still wouldn’t spare them a single glance.

“Oh, honey.” The sentiment drips from your lips as your knife cuts through the rope that binds him. You’re so fucking relieved that he’s okay, that Robin is as well. But there’s so much blood. In your periphery you see a tray with a bone saw on it.

“There’s my pretty girl!” Steve giggles, head lolling to the side as he admires you. “Isn’t she the prettiest, Robin?”

Robin giggles as well, her face just as bruised and bloodied as his. “So pretty!”

“Oh God,” despite their injured state, the two teens are in an unusually good mood. They giggle like school girls, Robin even bats her eyelashes at you. Something is off with them. “How hard did they hit your heads?”

Dustin starts to help you untie Steve. “Get ready to run.” He instructs them with a firm voice. However, Robin and Steve continue to laugh. As if this is all one big joke to them.

They almost seem… drunk.

But there isn’t time to ask any questions. Any minute now the guards will return. You cut the last rope that’s tied around Robin and ask Erica if she can carry her. They’re too loopy to walk straight, you’ll need to help Dustin carry Steve back to the cart.

It takes a lot of yelling, slapping Steve’s hand away from your face as you struggle to drag his limp body to the cart, more bribes for Robin than you ever would’ve imagined, but miraculously you get the two idiots into the cart parked outside.

As soon as they’re secured in the back with you, Dustin steps on the gas and you leave the Russians behind.

“Tried promising you I’d come home, angel.” Steve is sprawled on your lap. His eyes are cloudy, he isn’t quite here with you.

“You didn’t have to say anything. I knew you’d promise me.” You reassure him. Carefully, you brush hair out of his face and you inspect his wounds. The cuts don’t look too deep, but you’re worried he might have yet another concussion. Thankfully, however, the blood has already started to scab over. The worst of it is over, and yet your heart still constricts when you remember that he’s injured because of you. “My poor, sweet honey.”

Steve closes his eyes and hums with content. “I love it when you call me honey.” He rolls onto his side now and nuzzles his bloodied face into your stomach. “Makes me feel special.”

Your fingers find his hair, careful to avoid any bumps and heart swelling at what he’s said. Clearing your throat, you look to Robin who is on your other side. You start checking her over as well. She isn’t as battered as Steve is, though a bruise is forming on her cheek.

When she sees you looking at her, she winks. “I lived!”

“You did,” you squeeze her hand and her head falls against your shoulder. She lets out her own content sigh, and you play with her hair as well. They’re still with you. Still whole and alive.

With Steve and Robin safely wrapped around you, you can finally rest.

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ if you would like to be added/removed from my taglist, just let me know :)

⌑ taglist: @siriuslysmoking @sheisjoeschateau @thytorturedpoet @innercreationflower @juhdoche @frostandflamesfanfic @goosy-goose @quinnsadilla @munsons-queen @stefansring @rice-elephant @bex22109 @bitchkeery @bex22109 @officerrrfriendly @kazunish @idkitsem @emilieluckwood @ryoujoking @criesinlies @tagakalat @dcnerd98 @sucker-4-angst @kitdjarin1 @onecojg @innazra @areiofhope @spaghetittied @cultish-corner @g8sstuff @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @moonpascal @l0ve-0f-my-life @newyorkangelbaby @aliceespector @chervbs @poppet055 @bookkeeperlove @bellenotthebeast @swiftieblyth @ladyobscurus @moon-flowerrs @estaticheart @dreamingofts18 @lanxsee @thecapricunt1616 @aheadfullofsteverogers

@marvel-and-music @angie2274 @thescoopstroopers @xuimhao @rh1nestonecowg1rl @shelby-ren @carinacassiopeiae @eddiemunson-86-baby @ribbetzetoad @harryssideboobz @cherrycherry19 @mamamakaylamorgan23 @slttygeto @alltoomay @hiraethavis @torntaltos @eeniemeenie @latenightreadingpdf @gayandfairycore @aliceespector @l0ca1ax010t1 @whosyourgnomie @luca-random-stuff @thaliagracesgf @ofallthechemicalboys

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #nya #m's writing #yall are gonna scream at me #im so excited to see it LMAO

201 notes · View notes

kingkatsuki · 3 days

Text

Kaji finds you crying in an alley on one of his evening patrols, and it’s then that he realises just how hopeless he is when it comes to women— especially when he thinks they’re pretty.

Pairing: Kaji Ren x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, slight suggestive thoughts from Kaji, mostly comfort.

Word Count: 2k.

Kaji was not good in situations like these, averting his eyes as though he’d caught you doing something nefarious while he stood statuesque in place. He pauses his music to confirm that you’re actually crying, hearing the muted sobs tumble out from between your pretty lips with more clarity as Kaji tries to decide what to do next. He immediately regrets choosing this route for his scheduled Friday patrol, wondering why he hadn’t tried to take the path that didn’t fall under the only open izakaya in the area.

He’d expected to break up a bar fight tonight, or at the very least stop someone getting mugged. Or perhaps guide a drunken worker in the right direction home, like he’d done two weeks ago. But Kaji had not prepared himself for this— especially when he had no idea what to do in this situation. His pink sucker stills between the side of his gum and his teeth as he shoves both hands into his grey hoodie pocket— maybe he should text Kusumi or Enomoto, they’d be far better at this than him.

“Sorry,” You sniffled from your position on the ground, shifting your thighs slightly as you brought your knees up to your chest. Seemingly unbothered you were wearing a skirt as the fabric bunched around the tops of your thighs. And if Kaji was any less of a man he’d be able to get the perfect view of what colour panties you were wearing under it, “I’m not normally like this.”

Kaji frowned, cursing himself for having such depraved thoughts when you were in front of him crying. Despising the way his cock throbbed at the thought as he tried to think of something, anything more than what kind of panties you had on right now.

Why was he like this?

You didn’t seem to care as tears continued to spill down the sides of your face, your head poised towards the ground to try and hide yourself away as people continued walking down the rowdy street. Kaji couldn’t leave you like this— not when there were awful men out at night, and if they found you there’s absolutely no telling what they’d do.

And why the fuck were you alone?

“Can I call someone for you?” He shifted from foot to foot, standing awkwardly in front of you as you immediately looked up at him with pleading eyes, shaking your head no.

“Please, don’t—” Your friends had told you this would happen, and you should’ve listened, “There’s no one I wanna call right now.”

Then what the hell was he supposed to do? Kaji groaned internally, wondering if he’d at least be able to take you somewhere safe until you were ready to go home.

“I’ll be fine, really.” You managed to warble through a fresh hot stream of tears, but Kaji wasn’t so sure.

Shifting his sucker from one cheek to the other as the hard candy clinked against sharp canines, Kaji finally allowed himself to step forward. Thinking about leaning against the wall beside you before deciding against it, trying to appear as harmless as possible as he flopped down to the ground beside you. He spread his thighs in a feeble attempt to quell the throb of his chub beneath tight black skinny jeans as he rested his forearms on top of his knees.

He notices you visibly stiffen beside him, despite his attempts to appear as non-threatening as possible as he heaves a rough sigh. Tugging his silent headphones down around his neck he tries to think about what Hiragi would do in this situation, what he should say. Was it rude to call you dumb for being out in a dangerous part of town all by yourself this late? Probably, but he was right. Kaji decides on another question as he leans back against the cold brick wall.

“Why you cryin’?” It came out harsher than he’d intended, immediately noticing his mistake when you broke into a fresh sob beside him. A light hue of pink dusted against his cheeks at your reaction as he wished he had a tissue or something to offer you, deciding on the only thing left in his pockets as he shuffled to pull out a single strawberry chupa chups. Holding it out to you as he kept his eyes trained forward, lips smoothed into a firm line with his jaw locked.

He heard the pretty sound you made at his offering, a saccharine scoff that seemed to be more of an exhale as you reached out to take the lollipop from his outstretched hand. Your soft fingers grazed his as Kaji felt tiny sparks of electricity bloom upon contact, trying to ignore the heat that they raised against his skin as it shot through his veins like molten lava.

“Thanks,” You murmured, cradling the lollipop between your manicured fingers as you brought the side of your thumb up to your eyes to try and wipe away the pearly tears that clung to thick lashes and blurred your vision.

This is the closest he’s ever sat to a girl, Kaji thinks. The flowery scent of your perfume invades his nostrils and has him feeling lightheaded as he tries to ground himself against the cold brick. Glad he decided to sit down, as he’s certain any longer his legs might have given way.

“It’s stupid.” You murmur, sniffling as you begin to toy with the wrapper of the candy at the top of the stick. Pressing your nail beneath it as you twirled it between your smaller fingers, leaning your hands against bare thighs.

“Ain’t stupid if you’re cryin’ over it.” Kaji continues. Honestly, it probably is stupid— but he’s glad he’s managed to stop you being noisy for a moment at least. Even though the tears still continue to silently trickle down your cheeks, leaving messy lines of ruined make-up in their wake.

“My boyfriend just broke up with me,” You continued, “Or well, I just broke up with him— I don’t even know.”

Kaji groaned internally, he was right— it was stupid. It felt as though he’d started a ridiculous conversation with Umemiya that he couldn’t escape. Remembering the conversation he’d had with his leader a few weeks ago about a heartbreaking scene in one of his favourite K-dramas that had him sobbing for hours after.

“So what you doin’ out here?” He pressed, trying to push his apathy to the side. It was late and dark, and you were sitting out on the street like you had nowhere else to go.

Kaji didn’t have the first clue about love or romance, aside from the songs that would sometimes come up on shuffle or the shitty rom-coms that Sako used to make him watch.

“I dunno.” You shivered, and it was then Kaji noticed that you weren’t even wearing a jacket.

This was so annoying. He groaned internally for getting himself into this situation as he pulled his headphones off from around his neck, moving them to sit on either side of his knee for a moment as he reached out to tug his grey hoodie up and over his head. Tousling his hair with static as he pulled it off before handing it out towards you.

“What?” You turned your head towards him in surprise, “Oh, no— it’s okay. I can’t take that—”

“Just put it on,” Kaji growled, feeling the brisk evening air hit his bare arms as he leaned back against the wall. Giving him a slightly better angle to look at you without turning his head to the side.

“I don’t wanna ruin it,” You continued, shaking your head, “My make-up’s—”

“Just fuckin’ put it on.” He cut you off briskly with a harsh snap, shaking his head. He’d definitely had worse than a bit of spoiled makeup on his clothes, and he was positive that bloodstains were harder to remove than some lipstick or whatever it was Tsubaki-chan used.

That thought had Kaji’s thoughts wondering. He tried to think about what Tsubaki-chan wanted whenever he was sad, and his mind settled on something. Pulling out his phone to check the time as he saw Pothos should still be open for at least another thirty-five minutes— that should be long enough.

“Thank you.” You mumbled, moving to pull his hoodie up and over your head as Kaji took the opportunity to watch you again. You really were pretty, he wondered what could’ve happened to make a guy break up with you— because he was positive that if you were his girlfriend he wouldn’t want to let you go.

But women were more trouble than they’re worth— at least that’s what he’d overheard Seiryu say before. Moving his headphones back around the curve of his neck as Kaji sat beside you in silence, the rowdy bass of music from the nearby izakaya mingled with the chatter of its patrons the only sound with your muted sniffles.

Kaji was thankful you’d calmed down with little effort, but he wondered whether beating your ex-boyfriend to a pulp would’ve been easier.

“You shouldn’t cry over some guy.” He manages to force the words out, trying to provide his own kind of comfort.

“I didn't think he was just some guy, though,” You pouted gently, and it made Kaji’s eyes focus on the glittery gloss of your lips, “I really liked him.”

“Yeah, well clearly you deserve better.” He snapped, nose scrunched in irritation, “You’re too pretty to be cryin’ over some loser in an alleyway. Do you know how fuckin’ dangerous that is?”

Kaji caught himself after he’d said it, noticing his mistake as he willed the ground to swallow him whole. He’d just called you pretty—

He moved his lollipop back to the middle of his mouth, pressing the ball of candy against his tongue as he sucked hard. Trying to tame the frustration, anger and annoyance that burned inside him, reaching boiling point as he felt his heartbeat begin to lull.

“I know,” You mumbled sadly, “I should’ve just gone home, but I wasn’t ready to go just yet.”

“Okay, so don’t go home yet,” Kaji stretched his legs out in front of him to ease his muscles before he shifted to stand, moving a palm to brush off any dirt from his ass before he reached out to offer you the same hand, “You comin’ or what?”

You looked up at him through pretty lashes, and Kaji had to catch himself when your glistening eyes met his. Trying to ignore the incessant throb inside his chest as his heart rattled against its cage desperate to be set free as you reached out to take his hand. The same pulse of electricity ignited inside him as he wrapped his fingers around yours, using his grip to pull you up off the ground as you came to stand in front of him. Dangerously close to his face you gave him a shy, soft smile.

“Where we going?”

The feelings building inside him were only made worse when you moved to stand. From the way you were engulfed in his scent now to his oversized hoodie practically dwarfing your form as he tried to swallow the wetness from his sucker that puddled at the back of his throat.

“What? You got any better offers right now?” He snapped, before biting down on the lollipop inside his mouth. Crushing it beneath his teeth as he hated himself for how harsh he sounded, although you didn’t seem to mind.

“I guess not.” You laughed bitterly, a soft smile appearing on your face as Kaji tried to remember to breathe.

Kaji’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed thickly at the sight of you— You looked real pretty when you were smiling, even with dried makeup and tears caked against your cheeks. It made him want to be the one to make you smile like that again.

“You’ll see.” Kaji began to pull you through alleyways to try and avoid the rowdy crowds spilling out from the sole izakaya in the area on the busy Friday night as he made his way in the direction of Pothos.

Noticing that he was still holding your hand— and you hadn’t pulled away.

#kaji ren x reader #ren kaji x reader #wind breaker x reader #wind breaker x you #kaji x reader #soft Kaji #this is so self-ship coded it’s actually embarrassing I’m sorry

215 notes · View notes

ssahotchnerr · 10 hours

Note

jack & ellie trying to make soup for a sick aaron🥺🫶 they’re like tossing around dry pasta noodles in a pot 😭😭🫶

- 🧶

sick day

WAIT you just gave me an idea so let me elaborate i hope that's okay 🫶🏻 cw; mentions of sickness, dad!aaron, fem!reader, fluff <3

Jack and Ellie were huddled underneath the shade of a tree, heads together and busying themselves away with something.

The window above the kitchen sink allowed clear visibility into the backyard, letting you keep an undeviating eye on them. It was a bright summer afternoon, all windows in the house were open, a cool breeze sweeping in. You could easily hear and observe the two of them, while also doting on your sick husband.

This morning, you awoke to a sweaty Aaron beside you; cowlicks and t-shirt drenched. He was sporting a sore throat along with his fever, as well as a lingering headache. Last night he had even returned home early, the fluorescent lights of the BAU not having mercy on his head.

"How's it going?" You peered your head into your bedroom, Aaron buried deep under the comforter. While it was quite warm outside, he had stated he was freezing.

A muffled, "Fine." came from beneath.

"Need anything?"

Another incoherent mumble in response.

After obtaining him more water (and making sure he drank some) you went forth with your day, cleaning up the kitchen's mess after lunch. As you did so, the screen door rolled open, slamming with a shut.

"Watch fingers." You advised, continuing to place dirty cups into the dishwasher. With the two of them coming in and out of the house so hastily, you were eager to prevent potential broken fingers.

In your peripheral they passed, rather slow for their usual nature. It raised your suspicions immediately, causing you to slow, before committing to follow. Especially when Ellie recalled the word dirt.

They ventured upstairs and into your bedroom. It was dimly lit; lights off and curtains pulled, the slight sheerness of the fabric allowing the sun to subtly brighten the room. Again the windows were agape - allowing fresh air to circulate through the room.

"Daddy." Ellie whispered, her face close enough to his whereas he could feel her breath on his face.

"Hm?"

"We made you soup."

Her words snapped him out of his feverish haze, both his eyes opening and heart melting in one go.

"You did?" Aaron gingerly sat up, using his elbows for leverage and leaning against his pillow. He purposely strained his voice; finding his soft, Dad tone and attempting to push past the hoarseness; sounding as normal as possible.

Jack produced a small bucket, one that usually remained within the sandbox. Instead it was filled with water, dirt, grass, miscellaneous leaves; anything the backyard could provide.

The contents took Aaron by surprise, stalling for a split second once in his grasp. Dumbfounded, but extremely touched.

"Do you like it?" Ellie asked, clambering onto the mattress besides him.

"I do." Aaron commented, offering her a smile. "It's... organic, that's for sure."

"Bunnies eat grass." Ellie explained, looking from the 'soup' to him. "'member when we found the baby bunnies? You said they eat grass to be healthy and strong. So this will help you not be sick."

Aaron's face softened more; the logic making complete sense in her little mind - why wouldn't it? He laughed gently, and naturally he didn't have the heart to tell her it was inedible. "Thank you sweetheart, that's real kind of you. Did you make up this recipe all by yourself?"

Ellie nodded, a thoroughly pleased expression on her face. "Jackers helped too. He put the water in from the hose and added the leaves."

"I didn't tell her you couldn't eat it," Jack quickly whispered to him, "she really wanted to give you something that could make you feel better."

Aaron offered him a look, an understanding between the two of them. "Well, it definitely is making me feel better. I can promise that."

"Really?" Ellie blinked up at him.

"Really. I had no idea I had such skilled chefs for kids." He coughed; his voice was slowly beginning to give out, the more he spoke.

"Like Grandpa Dave!"

Aaron laughed brightly, ignoring the burn in the back of his throat and the heaviness in his body. "Just like Grandpa Dave."

"Here," You pushed yourself off the doorframe, where you had been silently (and pleasantly) observing. Ellie had been a bit too close for too long, and you could tell Aaron was gradually fading.

You took the 'soup' from him, internally grateful all of it had stayed in the bucket despite traveling up a flight of stairs. "Why don't I take this. Daddy needs to get some rest, that'll help him feel better too."

"Peace and quiet."

"That's right, peace and quiet." You echoed Ellie as she hopped off the bed, touching her head gently to gesture her out. You flashed Aaron a smile as the three of you exited, one tugging onto his lips too as he drowsily eased back against his pillow.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader

178 notes · View notes

yaeverse · 2 days

Text

Dinner Date | j.ww

pairing: class president! wonwoo x playgirl!reader

summary: going on a date with your class president who actually have had a secret crush on you for a while

warnings: slight nsfw, fluff, a few wet kisses

a/n: helloo nyxies, i'm still new to writing so deepest apologies if there some grammatical errors found in my fanfic. anyways, enjoyyy

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

You could say you were hell ass surprised when he asked you out to dinner after winning the school art competition. Your class president, Jeon Wonwoo, also known as the campus heartthrob had a secret crush on you for sometime now. The man was undeniably handsome, hot, smart and basically a walking wet dream that had every girl or boy drooling over him

Walking and pacing around your room, figuring out on what to wear, making sure to not look like you're whoring yourself on your first date with Wonwoo, your mind brings you back to the moment he asked you out.

(flashback)

"y/n, will you go on a date with me..?" he asks as he looks at you with a stoic face. Wonwoo actually had this all planned in his head but things didn't really go as well as he thought it would, "I'll pick you up later at seven.." he continues, leaving no space for rejection.

(end of flashback)

"Dammit, Jeon Wonwoo.. you got me nervous over a date.." you sigh, deciding on wearing a turtleneck croptop partnered with a skirt. Yeah, you've had your past relationships and flings, but oh damn, did Wonwoo got you this nervous.

Hearing your phone ring, you immediately sat up answering the call.

"Hey.." you said,

"I'm outside.." he says in a husky voice, sending shivers down your spine,

"Alright, I'm heading out.."

This was absolutely the very first moment of you being nervous of stepping out your apartment. I mean, we are talking of Jeon Wonwoo, who wouldn't be nervous.

Stepping out your door, your eyes meet Wonwoo's gaze as he stands awestruck at your beauty.

"You look.." he stutters, "beautiful, y/n.."

"oh hey, we're twinning!" you smile excitingly at the adorable coincident

He stares at you, his heart fluttering at the sight of your smile. You had quite a reputation around campus, 'Playgirl Y/N', but couldn't care less. He just saw you for who you are.

The drive was comfortably quiet. Exchanging a few glances and questions to lift the awkward tension.

"so, congrats on winning earlier.." he says, glancing in your direction,

"thanks" you smiled back, "i never thought i'd win, i messed up a few paints due to nervousness.."

"what are you talking about?" he lightly chuckles, turning the steering wheel as he talks with you, "yours was the best one there, so of course you'd win.."

You can't help but smile at his words. "thank you, wonwoo.."

After a few minutes drive, you two finally arrive.

"We're here" he says, stepping out of the driver's seat to open your door

You can't help but your eyes widen and mouth drop in agape at how beautiful, and to say expensive the place looks. He really went all out for a first date, and you think you don't deserve this kind of treatment.

"Let's go..?" he asks, guiding you by your waist, "don't be nervous, y/n, be yourself.."

"Y-you didn't really have to do all this..." you look up to meet his gaze

"Well, I wanted to"

Dinner was mostly filled with a few exchanged talks and warm conversations. Getting to know each other, and finding a few interesting facts that none of the two of you thought to be possibly real.

Spending time and getting to know him made you realize that he is everything you could ask for a guy. After having failed relationships, and jumping from one guy to another, you finally conclude that Jeon Wonwoo is YOUR TYPE OF MAN. You now can see why almost everyone in campus say the he's the perfect ideal boyfriend a girl can ever ask. He's a complete gentleman, smart, handsome, hot, a walking wet dream, like everything. You just know that after this date, you will never be the same. You could already feel the effects this guy has over you.

"Did you enjoy the dinner, y/n?" he asks,

"Of course, I did," you smile, as you took out your wallet "Oh- I can pay the dinner-"

"You're not paying dinner, princess," he chuckled, gently pushing your hand back to yourself, "I already payed anyways.."

"Y-you're too much, won.." you smile warmly at him,

"Nothing's too much, y/n," he smiles back, "You ready to go home..?"

You nod and as a gentleman he is, he escorts you outside, holding your waist. The warmth of his palm on your waist was enough to send butterflies bursting to your stomach, making your heartbeat crazy.

"So, uh, this is goodnight i guess.." he mumbles as he walks you to your door, "good night, y/n..."

"wait-" you pause, realizing what you just said

"yes..?" he immediately looked back, giving you all his attention

he walks closer to you, leaning in as he sees your eyes laid on his lips, making him chuckle.

"my eyes are up here, princess.." he smirked, "may i..?"

No words came out but you just nodded. He slowly leans in. Your heart beats in anticipation as you close your eyes, ready to feel his lips on yours.

But, oh damn, was he soft like feather.

You tensed up feeling his lips on yours. 'Get a grip, y/n, it's not like it's your first time kissing someone' you mentally scold yourself. You then feel his hand settle on your waist as the other settles behind your neck, pulling you closer to him.

You two pause for a moment to catch your breaths as he rested his forehead on yours. You smiled, and you know he's smiling as well. He then leans in again with more affection.

"Mmhh.." you hear him moan to the kiss as he swiftly licks your lower lip, begging to get in. With pleasure, you open your lips partly and he slide his tongue in immediately.

You two get lost in the moment, feeling waves of pleasure and adrenaline rush through every inch of your body at the sensation of his tongue dancing with yours. His hand grip your neck a bit tighter as he pulls you closer to give him more access inside your mouth as he makes out with you.

The kiss slowly calms down as you two pull back, gasping for air, foreheads resting against each other.

"We're going for a second date then..?" he asks with a light chuckle, his thumb caressing your waist,

"You're a good kisser, by the way.." you laugh, "And yes, a second date would be fucking great.."

He pecks your lips as he replies, "Next time, you'll receive more than a kiss, princess.."

Your face becomes a blushing mess as he smirked at your reaction

"W-Wonwoo...!" you whine playfully as you hit his chest,

"God, I'll make you scream my name next time.." he smirked, chuckling in a low tone,

"See you around, princess..." he greets you goodbye as he drives his car away

You just know that there'll be no more next guy after Wonwoo.

And you just know that in the next date, you'll end up being unable to walk

209 notes · View notes

boyfiechan · 2 days

Text

He couldn't help it.

He tried, he really did, forcing his mind to travel back to his work every time it slipped away. He focused on the harmonies drawing shapes on his laptop screen, the ridiculous amount of papers pilling up with bits and pieces of lyrics for multiple songs, the laughter of his group mates as they came up yet another insane idea for a future project. Deadlines, rhythms, enunciations, syllables, anything.

And it worked, until it didn't, and neither did the idea of spending an extra half hour on the gym because maybe, just maybe this is all pent up stress and energy pilling up and not what feels like a second puberty because he just can't stop thinking about you.

He's a little ashamed of it, honestly. Maybe even more than a little, trying to push back pretty much every single thing related to your existence to the back of his mind when he's around anyone to avoid the feeling of his pants getting tighter and cheeks getting flushed and he may be going insane, really, there just isn't any other explanation to why his body and mind decided to crave something he barely even tasted yet.

He knows it's technically okay and normal to feel this way. Your friendship with him was always a little strange to everyone, and he knew he did like you a little bit more than a friend would, and you seem to share the feeling after making out with him at the end a night out that didn't envolve enough drinks for that to be a choice you made simply because you were drunk out of your mind. And it's technically okay because you made it sure that you wanted him too, even if things didn't go further than a lot of kissing and touching for the night.

He couldn't help but picture it if they did. That's how he found himself there, scalding hot water traveling down his back, dark, wavy hair stuck to his forehead and a dizzying curtain of steam filling the bathroom as the feeling of your lips sucking on his travels back to his mind with full force, making his knees feel a little too jelly. He tries to convince himself it was the workout, or that he's just a little too hormonal but it's not, it's you and your soft skin and the softest lips he ever tasted and how much more he wanted, needed do to and to feel.

And that is a battle that he knew he lost when he rested one of his hands on the wall in front of him, the one traveling down to his hard, leaking cock, hissing at the feeling of finally getting some sort of relief. Oh, how he wished they were your hands instead of his, thumb running across his tip as he gets even more aware of everything around him, water caressing his bare skin and the warmth of the room surrounding. He's deliberately slow with it, finally allowing his mind to explore the nastiest, dirtiest images he kept pushing back all day, closing his eyes and picturing your delicate hands instead of his moving up and down his shaft, torturing him in the most delicious way possible.

He feels dizzy. The water is way too warm and so are his hands, and so would be your mouth wrapped around him. He wonders how you would do it, from the way you kissed him so wet and messily, desperate but sensual and so luscious it was hard to not imagine how wet and warm your tongue would be tracing his veins, tasting him, taking all of it as his hands wrap around your hair. The image of your lips around his cock and your eyes locked on his is enough to make him let out a whiny, breathy fuck as his hands pick up their pace, not a single care about how desperate and needy he looks at that moment.

He needs you. He needs you bad, so bad, spread open for him and gorgeous, lips red and puffy from his biting and sucking on them for hours. Your back against his sheets as he buries his fingers so, so deep inside of you, your cunt soaking his fingers, all ready for him. He needs to sink his cock into it, feel you moaning at the girth, the feel of him spreading you open so good, so inviting you can't help but clench around him every time he pulls away just to fuck back into you again and again. He needs to see your face all flushed and red, feel your hands gripping his shoulders ad he gets even deeper, pushing your thighs to your chest and finding the angle that makes you eyes roll back until the only thing you can repeat is his name as you contract around him, begging for him to fill your hole up with his cum and he needs to do it.

And he can't help but to cum at the mental image of his seed dripping from you, soaking the sheets beneath your body and it's so hard to keep quiet, the sound of the water hitting the ground barely disguising the hoarse, raspy moan he lets out as he feels the extra wetness traveling down his hand, knees even weaker than before.

He wonders if you think about him too.

#bang chan x reader #chan x reader #bang chan thoughts #bang chan hard hours #bang chan hard thoughts #boyfriend!bang chan #bang chan smut #chan hard thoughts #skz smut #skz hard hours #skz hard thoughts #bang chan headcanons

174 notes · View notes

sixosix · 8 hours

Text

HOLD ON TO THE MEMORIES, AND I WILL HOLD ONTO YOU | LYNEY

notes happy last chapter!! hope u enjoy<33 and tune in for another post in appreciation for the last chapter yeahhh

previous chapter | masterlist

It took two months in Sumeru, three in Liyue, and one month in Snezhnaya to take you down. Childe admitted that you held up longer than he expected—training unrelentingly in an unfamiliar environment would shake anyone’s confidence. But you’d been pushing through with excitement at the prospect of traveling to another region and training to become stronger. The adrenaline is quick to disappear when Rosalie has to go back home, and her absence makes the cold loneliness prominent.

When Childe strikes at you with a sword, your calves burn, and your thighs quiver—that split second costs you the match. Childe calls for you to get up. Fight back. But for some reason, all you can think of is how the ice has melted in your boots in a puddle and how the flowers sprinkled sporadically in the snow are the same ones back at home.

Childe senses it, the sudden drop of mood. He studies whatever expression you’re making and smiles.

“Alright. I think it’s about time.”

“I’m sorry.”

Childe pulls you up and throws your arm over his shoulder. “What’re you sorry for?”

You take one heavy step at a time, watching and hating as your feet sink into the soft snow. It’s too cold. “You’re doing so much for me, but I’m too weak to follow through.”

“Nonsense.” He clicks his tongue. “I think of this as one of my duties.”

“But it’s not one of your duties,” you argue weakly. “I’m a burden to your actual duties. My colleagues are already suspicious of this special treatment.”

“They aren’t really your colleagues,” Childe points out. “Just as you aren’t actually working under me. You’re my mentee. There’s a world of difference.”

You sigh, unconvinced. Childe is doing so much to prevent the other Harbingers and even the Tsaritsa herself from snooping in your business. A part of you thinks the Tsaritsa already knows, but it’s about time she does something about it, right?

“You’re thinking too hard,” Childe remarks. When you turn to him, he’s staring ahead. “Don’t worry, okay? You’ve got three Harbingers vouching for you.”

“Three?”

Childe grins. “That boyfriend of yours is about to be one, isn’t he?”

Excitement thrums in each bone of your body as the familiar view of the continent-sized fountain comes to view. You nearly fall over into the ocean from tipping forward.

“Fontaine’s not going anywhere,” Childe yells out from the other side of the Fatui-issued ship.

The wind whips through your hair. The recognizable scent of the sea breeze makes you laugh in delight. Maybe you missed your home more than you realized.

“I wouldn’t let it, anyway,” you answer back.

Once the ship has reached the dock, you bound over to Childe, who looks over curiously.

“Thank you,” you say, and you really, really mean it. For the past few months, for this and possibly for more in the future.

Childe ruffles your hair. It would’ve made you glare at him on usual days, but you’re bursting with happiness so you let him until he says, “No problem, Y/N. We’re friends now.”

Childe nudges you forward. “Now, go hurry. I’m about one messenger bird away from losing my patience with Lyney.”

Despite that, you meet with Rosalie first.

The sun has barely risen, just peeking from rolling hills. The shop is still closed. But this is your home, so you push the key in, pull the door open, and catch sight of Rosalie fixing the displays on the shelf behind the counter.

“Maman, why are you up so early?”

Rosalie’s head whips around, then her limbs lock up in place. She’d been with you for the first two weeks of Sumeru, admiring their flora, then taking a lot of them home. You see them displayed on the shelves next to your first flower—the ones that are certainly for sale. Rosalie still hasn’t moved, frozen, gaping at you.

“Surprise,” you say, then she boots back to life and runs over to hug you.

“Oh, my darling,” Rosalie says reverently, as if speaking to the gods, thanking them. Her hands are stained with soil dirt and the smell of leaves, but you find that there is nothing else more fitting. You really are home. “Ma bébé! You’re back!”

You pluck a few petals off of her hair. “I am.”

Rosalie pulls back and grins up at you. “You’re home! You’re—” her face twists in realization, “Oh, you’re back. Oh, dear. You just missed Lyney. He came over earlier to help me settle everything before I opened up.”

“Wait, really?”

Rosalie nods, ushering you inside the counter, where the door leads to upstairs to the kitchen. “Yes, yes. Since I returned, Lyney has been coming over to visit and help me with the shop.”

Your heart skips a beat. “He does?”

“Mhm. At first, I assumed it was because he got used to visiting you, but he just does it every day now. ” Rosalie shakes her head fondly, smoothing down your hair. “That boy. I tell him that he should focus when he has shows to practice or prepare for, but he just buries his hands in the dirt as an answer.”

“I see you two have gotten closer while I was away.” The image of Lyney changing pots, getting his hands soiled, while he insists that Rosalie does the watering, makes you unbelievably fond.

“As stubborn as you,” Rosalie chides, smiling. “He knows how to handle them, though. Did you know, Lyney started to send out messenger birds when I told him I was missing you? That boy is more than head over heels, darling.”

“Maman,” you say, embarrassed. “I just came back. Aren’t you going to ask how I am?”

“I don’t need to. Lyney updates me anyway,” Rosalie says. “But I have missed you, so tell your maman about everything, okay?”

“I’ll tell you stories for as long as you want me to, maman.”

Rosalie’s eyes water, but she braves through it as she stares wordlessly at you. She wipes it off, then ruffles your hair. Do you have a sign on your head or something?

“I’m proud to call you my daughter. I’ll always want you to.”

Freminet is the first out of the siblings to hear from you. It’s not on purpose. You’re on your way to surprise Lyney and Lynette when you hear a soft voice call out after you. Your head snaps side to side, frantically looking for the source, then grin wide when Freminet waves at you feverishly.

“Y/N!” he exclaims breathlessly.

“Freminet!” you yell back, falling towards a hug that he tightly reciprocates.

“I didn’t know you were back?” He says incredulously, which might just be the most passionate emotion you’ve ever felt from him. He looks torn between disbelief and joy.

“Just this morning. I wanted to surprise all of you.” To gain a sense of satisfaction, you bury your hand in his hair first, knocking his beret aside when you ruffle and mess with his hair. “Your hair’s gotten longer than usual.”

“Yeah. You missed too much,” Freminet mumbles. But he doesn’t look depressed about it. He beams up at you, reminding you of a particularly pleased puppy. “You have a lot to catch up on.”

“I know, I know.”

“But wait.” Freminet’s brows scrunch together. “How long are you allowed to stay here?”

“Two weeks, at most. But I can always come back whenever I want.”

Freminet laughs. “Are you going to max out your two weeks before you talk to Lyney?”

“Shut up.” You elbow his ribs, but Freminet just laughs harder. “I was on my way to your house before I saw you.”

Freminet hums thoughtfully, his gaze drifting off to somewhere far. “I don’t think Lyney’s home right now.”

“Really?” You follow his gaze, but see nothing. Only kids running around, throwing cards around and sounding explosions with their mouths. You smile. Were they imitating Lyney? It seems that even if you try to avoid him, you’ll find traces of his footsteps anywhere. “Huh. Where could he be then?”

“Ever since you left, Lyney goes to this one spot a lot,” Freminet says, turning back to you with a knowing glint in his eye.

“Ma mère’s shop?”

“No, no. A different one. He says you two sparred there, and he goes there when he misses you. He goes every day.”

Rosalie, then now Freminet… You feel giddy, fondness bursting in your chest at the thought of Lyney missing you as much as you missed him. Not that you’d admit it to him straight up—because then he’d never let it go. But even then, the thought of that has you smiling to yourself like a madman.

Freminet notices it, too. “I’ll tell Lynette you said hi.”

True to his word, you find Lyney in the same spot he asked you to spar with him after years without it. You face his back, but you keep your steps light and measured, moving closer and closer until you see that he’s picking flowers. For his show, maybe?

Lyney looks vulnerable, hunched over a patch of flowers and gently unrooting them from the grass.

You spread your palm and let ice materialize above it in the shape of a heart. It’s smooth and clean after months and months of perfecting it. Then you throw it towards him. You have exceptional aim—you barely miss his ear on purpose. But Lyney straightens up in a snap and catches the heart with a gloved hand.

He looks at the heart in confusion, then rapidly whips around to you.

You grin and wave, unsure of what to say. What do you even greet him with? It’s nice to see you again? I missed you?

You haven’t had much time to think about it as Lyney sprints to you and tackles you down into a hug, blowing the air out of your chest as you both fall on the grass. You laugh as Lyney rubs his head on your neck like those affectionate cats back at Sumeru, his arm wrapped tightly around your shoulder.

Lyney pulls away, pupils blown wide.

“Hi,” he breathes out.

“Hi,” you whisper in return. Maybe the right thing to say is, “Lyney.”

“You’re back. You—you’re back in Fontaine—you made me a heart!”

“I did,” you say shyly. “I’m home.”

Sumeru had been wonderful; with trees that stretched and went on for forever, dewy grass that tickled your calves, and the heat of the sand that you longed for when you reached Snezhnaya. Liyue had been beautiful; spread with the aroma of spices and the orange glow of their sunset, then the mountains that allowed you to soar from one to another. Snezhnaya had been enchanting; the view of their sky was unmatched, the flowers that were unique to the cold climate were beautiful, their snow sent you a thrill that you knew you couldn’t feel anywhere else, and you were able to refine your Vision in the place where it belonged.

But the warmth that Lyney emanated—that he gave you—was the kind you missed in every place you went to. This is where you belong.

thank you so much for reading. i'll save all the things i want to say in the next post, so please, tune in!

#606: THAWED #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney x y/n

133 notes · View notes

uptolovegood · 3 days

Text

rosekiller one shot | word count: 689

“stop fucking moving, dumbass,” evan muttered under his breath as barty grinned, his eyes closed as he fidgeted with his fingers, unable to keep entirely calm while evan was this close to his face.

the day before, pandora had been teaching evan and regulus how to line their waterline with eyeliner. they hadn’t asked, but she’d just learned it herself and was eager to show someone. when she’d asked her brother and best friend, they both simply looked at each other and sighed, knowing they’d give in to whatever pandora asked them to do. calling her their soft spot was an understatement.

despite their initial doubt, they’d both ended up liking it. regulus had worn it for the whole day, and he could have sworn he’d seen james spill his drink all over the table as he glanced at him. it almost made regulus smile, though he’d never admit that.

that same day, barty had seen it on evan, too, and became slightly curious. at first, he hadn’t noticed it. it was a very subtle change, he thought. but when barty noticed it, oh, he noticed.

“oi, rosie,” he said, making evan turn around to fully face him. barty had felt like throwing up in that moment. or like he was on the verge of a heart attack. or both, possibly.

“what?”

“i want that.” i want you, he meant to say. evan had looked extremely confused, clearly. and so barty just pointed to his eyes, his lips twitching while fighting back a smirk.

“oh, panda can do it for you.”

“do you know how do it?”

“yeah.”

“i want you to do it, then.”

and that’s how they’d gotten here. barty sitting down in their dorm with evan standing in-between his legs, holding his chin with those pretty hands of his and fully concentrated on barty’s face. barty was stubborn, though, so he’d open his eyes just to get a look at evan, ruining the eyeliner in the process. it was the third time evan was doing this, and he’d cussed him out and told him it’d be the last. barty wasn’t one to listen, but he complied.

“done.” was all evan said, shoving a mirror on barty’s face. he didn’t want to be this close to him for much longer. he was hot and extremely bothered by the unspoken intimacy of that moment. it didn’t make sense and he didn’t really want to dive deeper into it, so he just didn’t.

barty shoved the mirror out of the way, grinning that barty crouch jr grin that makes you quake in your boots (although evan was clearly ‘quaking’ somewhere else), and looked up at evan, fluttering his eyes, before whispering low enough just for the two of them to hear, despite them being alone.

“do i look pretty, rosie?”

“oh, fuck off.” evan said, pushing him off. barty, however, had held his wrist before he could run away. not this time, he thought. and so he slid his arm around evan’s waist, all while still intently looking up at him, seeing the way his adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

“answer me.”

“you do.”

“i do what, rosie?”

there was a pause. a very shaky, breathy inhale came out of evan. like something had broken inside of him. he’d pursed his lips for a second, then took another good look at barty before saying, “fuck you.”

barty was this close to saying, “i would love to”, when evan got completely rid of the distance between them and smashed his lips on barty’s. desperately, savagely, like he needed him now. and he did, he had. he just didn’t know that he wanted it this bad, too.

the last thing evan heard him say was, “you look so pretty like this, rosie”, before he completely lost sight of himself. his whole body was on fire and only barty could ever possibly light him up this way.

needless to say, the eyeliner evan had worked so hard on had completely smeared for the third time by the time they were done. the best thing? he wasn’t even mad about it this time.

#this is my first time writing here hello???#this was inspired to me listening to gibson girl on repeat + an edit i saw of jegulus doing each other’s make up #kinda liked this #i hope u do too #marauders #bcjr #bcj #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #rosekiller

83 notes · View notes

yandere-sins · 7 hours

Text

Yan-Poll #16

Your stalker has a severe problem.

That's the conclusion you came to as you opened the door for the fifth time that day to another mailman handing you three more packages. Your living room had become unlivable, a space cluttered with cartons and the unopened remains of packages. At some point, you stopped opening them, but now they were collecting dust and destroying the comfort in your own home.

At first, curiosity had gotten the better of you. Amongst inappropriate gifts like underwear and... toys, there had actually been some useful presents. You secretly kept all the gifts that had been on your to-buy for a while and openly threw away the disgusting ones. You knew better than to accept the stalker's gifts, but since they were valuable, you couldn't help but hold on to some of them.

That was your mistake.

But looking at the neatly stacked packages, spreading from wall to wall, floor to ceiling, you realized your stalker had lost all control. You noticed brand names on the brown packages that you had only glanced at briefly while scrolling through your phone—expensive ones, too. At this point, you feared you couldn't look at anything anymore without it inevitably being sent to your home. You thought you had this situation under control, but apparently, you hadn't.

>> did you like the new necklace?

Heaving a deep sigh you looked at the countless messages, a new one popping up right on time of the delivery. Whoever he was, he was always watching. Though you ignored his constant string of texts—asking about your day, how you were feeling, confessing his love to you, wondering if you would wear his latest gifts—you knew this couldn't go on for much longer.

<< please stop

>> you finally responded :)

<< this needs to stop, I don't need all this junk!

>> but do you like it? i know you kept some of them

Biting your lip, you cursed yourself. Of course he'd notice that you didn't discard everything. That probably only encouraged your stalker to keep sending you more and more, wherever he got the money to afford it. Part of you thought, "Whatever! If he wants to blast through all that money, so be it! Might as well enjoy it!" but what about your morals?

You've been fighting so hard to live a normal life despite having this stalker. The police had given up since he was just too good at hiding his tracks, but he seemed to know everything and always be present in your life. If you let him continue like this, who knows what kind of trouble—legally and morally—you'd get into. What if this was his way of making you dependent and comfortable? This person had no qualms about intruding on your life, but what if he finally snapped? What would happen then? How much worse could this situation get?

<< anyway this needs to stop NOW

>> fine. let's make a deal: i'll send you one more gift >> if you hate it, i'll stop. but if you like it...

<< then what?

>> you'll see ;)

Your finger hovering over the keyboard of your phone, you thought about what your stalker could possibly mean. There was a good chance it would be a gift you liked, and he'd feel confident in the choices he made regarding you. But at the same time, what if it was a god-awful present? What if it was downright horrible? How far would he go, and could you possibly stomach the consequences of his actions because you allowed him to?

<< what if I refuse?

There was no answer this time. It was strange. You were starting to really get paranoid that he was plotting something terrible.

(Reasoning and discussions welcome! ♥)

#yan-poll #yandere talk #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

74 notes · View notes

sapphichotmess · 2 days

Text

All I Do Is Dream of You

Ellie Williams x plus size!f!reader (not really specified, but that’s what I write)

Name inspired by Dodie’s song All I Do Is Dream of You

Even though this is not 18+, I am an 18+ blog, mdni

continuation of this

Warnings/Tags: horrendous writing with very little dialogue (bc idk how to human), fluff, reader wears makeup, reader is able-bodied, reader is right-handed

PLS COMMENT & RB FOR ME PLS

thanks for reading this for me babe @les4elliewilliams u deserve to be fucked so good <3

It has been several days since you were literally knocked off of your feet by one Ellie Williams. And every day since then has been better than the last. You two have been texting non-stop, giddily giggling into your phones with warm cheeks at all hours of the day.

All it took was one meeting, and you were utterly captivated by the adorably dog-like auburn-haired woman, her presence—even if only by phone—filling your heart with a warmth you couldn't explain.

You can’t get the woman out of your head, always seeing her pale green eyes piercing into you when you close yours. And don’t get you started on her adorable smile, her lips quirking up and parting, showcasing a slight bit of white teeth. You groan, staring into the mirror on your desk, right hand holding eyeliner up though doing nothing to put any on. All you can think of is the way her cheeks flushed adorably, highlighting the smattering of freckles on her face. You want to trace them—learn the pattern to a T. Learn everything about her, really.

Your daydreaming is disrupted by the buzzing of your phone which is sat face-down on your bedspread, music blaring from it’s tiny-but-mighty speakers. You drop the eyeliner you were using to make the wing on your eye, drawing a black line down your cheek in your haste. Socked feet making gentle thudding on the hardwood floor, you reach your bed in record time. With your heart racing, you swiftly pick up your phone and flip it over to see the notification. It's another message from Ellie; the sight of her name sends a wave of excitement through you, your heart dropping from your chest out of your ass and a warm flush tickling your cheeks. With trembling fingers, you open the message, eager to see what she has to say.

Ellie's message pops up on your screen, and you can't help but grin as you read her words:

heyyy you! just wanted to say hi and see how your day is going. i've been thinking about you bunches today. craving one of those bomb cupcakes you whip up... you know, those red ones with the fucking insane frosting? the one i had the other day?

Not bothering to wait more than a few seconds, you quickly type out a response, unable to hide your own excitement:

hi ellie! literally made my day hearing from you fr ❤️

you send one text, instantly starting on another:

oh, the red velvet ones? i won’t be making those in the shop for a bit… BUT i can totally open the bakery on an off day and make a batch for you?

Happy with your words, you go to sit down your phone again, butterflies swooping around aggressively in your stomach, but before you do, it’s vibrating in your hand.

It was Ellie reacting to your first message with a heart. She must have been waiting for your reply—or you were being a horrible loser and texting back too fast. Shaking your head at that thought, you watch as the texting bubble appears, heart racing as you wait for her reply.

You can't help but feel a surge of excitement at the thought of Ellie's response. Was she as eager to continue the conversation as you were? Or perhaps she had something else in mind? With bated breath, you wait for her message to come through, the seconds feeling like an eternity as your mind races with all the possibilities of what she might say. The anticipation only adds to the butterflies swirling in your stomach, but you wouldn't have it any other way. Finally, Ellie's response comes through, and you eagerly read her message:

DUDE, no way! opening the bakery just for us? that's fucking awesome! i'm so down to hang out with you, especially if it means i get to devour those bomb-ass cupcakes. hit me up whenever you're free!

A grin spreads across your face as you read her words, your heart soaring with happiness. It seems Ellie is just as excited about the idea as you are, and the thought of spending time together fills you with warmth. It would be the first time you guys would meet face-to-face since your first encounter.

Fuck you couldn't wait to bask in the magnificence of her; her being in your space, filling her lungs with the very same air you breathe.

You are in trouble if these thoughts are an indication of anything.

Quickly typing out your reply, you suggest a few possible dates and times for your cupcake date, hoping that one of them will work for both of you. Positively beaming, eyes glimmering with youthful mirth, you finally set down your phone and turn on your sock-clad heels to head back toward your vanity. You make it halfway before you remember what day it is.

The bakery is closed.

You could see Ellie today.

Then, you’re slipping against the hardwood, trying to get back to the bed as quick as possible. You finally get your footing after sliding around and almost ending up on your ass, practically flying toward your bed and divebombing onto the soft mattress. Your phone bounces with the impact as you scramble to get to your knees and grab it from mid-air. Somehow, you end up on your back with your phone smashed onto your nose.

Ouch. That's definitely going to leave a mark.

You grab your phone, scrubbing a hand at your sore nose. After the shock of the hit has left, you regain your urgentness, unlocking your phone, bringing up the messages app, and clicking on your and Ellie’s chat.

Your fingers move at what seems like the speed of light as you type out a new message:

so, um, funny thing... i was thinking, and why wait for your cupcakes when you could have them today? how about you swing by the bakery this afternoon?

Thinking for a second, you quickly send a second text:

we can even bake them together! how does that sound?

Nausea creeps up on you as you wait, heart racing and dry eyes staring at your messages to Ellie for several minutes without a text bubble.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, a bubble appears on the screen, only to disappear just as quickly. This pattern repeats a few times, leaving you on edge.

But then, finally, Ellie's response lights up your screen:

i'm so down for a baking session at the bakery. what time should i be there?

A wave of relief washes over you as you read Ellie's enthusiastic reply—though you are confused as to why it took her so long to come up with this response. With a wide grin, you quickly type back the details, feeling excitement building in the pit of your stomach.

Finally having that done, you put your phone back on the bed—hopefully for the last time for a while. Then, you finally sit back down at your vanity, ready to finish your makeup for the day. When you look in the mirror, your smile falters and your mouth hangs open in disbelief.

There is a long, thick black line running across your cheek.

“Fuck.”

***

You’re just setting up everything you need for red velvet cupcakes when you hear the front doorbell ring. Your head snaps up so fast you’re surprised you don’t break your neck. However, any pain is worth seeing Ellie walk into your bakery looking so damn fine.

The olive-skinned girl is wearing a pair of blue jeans that fit her ass nicely, a grey t-shirt, and a burnt-red flannel that looks well-loved with tearing seams and fading colors. Her shoulder-length auburn hair is pulled into a half-up, half-down look, with some stray hairs framing her face. Your hands itch to push them behind her ears, even standing at the distance you are.

Shaking yourself out of your reverie, you set the pan you had in your hands onto the counter with a clatter, causing Ellie to start. Making your way towards the front of the store where Ellie stands with hands in her pockets, you call out her name.

"Ellie!" You greet her with a wide grin, unable to contain your excitement at seeing her—even if it was planned just short of an hour ago.

“Ah, uh… Hey!” the freckled girl stutters out. “I… it’s good to see you?”

“Was that a question?” you ask, hiding your smile behind your hand.

“Uh, no?” Ellie says before realizing that she phrased her response as a question, too. “I mean, no. No, it wasn’t a question. I, um, I am excited to see you.”

You can't help but find Ellie's nervousness adorable as she stumbles over her words. Suppressing a giggle, you offer her a reassuring smile, eyes crinkling on the edges. "Well, I'm excited to see you too," you reply warmly, noting the faint blush creeping up on her cheeks.

As Ellie's gaze drifts somewhere behind you and she nervously swipes her hand over her nose, you realize just how nervous she must be feeling. Wanting to ease her discomfort, you gently reach out and place a hand on her arm—holy shit, you didn’t realize she was strong, but you can feel her muscles under her flannel. "Hey, it's okay. No need to be nervous," you say softly, trying to ignore your thoughts about what she could do with that strength. "We're just here to have fun and bake some delicious cupcakes together."

Ellie’s green eyes finally meet yours again, though a crease forms between her eyebrows as she does. “I just, ah… you’re, like, stupidly pretty. And, you know, it’s really distracting.” Ellie's cheeks flush a deeper shade of red as she confesses, her final words coming out in a rush.

Your heart skips a beat at Ellie's unexpected compliment, and a warm flush of pleasure spreads through you. "Wow, thank you," you reply. "You're not so bad yourself, you know."

Ellie’s eyes widen in surprise at your compliment, her right hand coming back up to shuffle across her nose. “Ah, thank you?”

Giggling at her utter lack of words or charm, you grab her hand as it falls from in front of her face. “C’mon! We have so much to do. I’m so excited to teach you how to bake!” you say in a high-pitched voice, obviously excited.

Pulling her by the—fucking giant—hand to the back of the bakery where you do all the… well, baking, you continue, “I’m almost done setting up everything for us. There are a few ingredients I have to pull out since I wasn’t gonna be using them, but it shouldn’t be too long until we can start.”

“I—oh,” Ellie lets out a strangled breath as she is suddenly dragged by you into the back room. “That’s okay. I’m just, uh, really excited for the cupcakes.”

As you lead Ellie towards the back of the bakery, you can't help but chuckle at her adorable awkwardness. "Don't worry, I promise it'll be fun," you reassure her, looking behind you with a warm smile. "And don't worry about being nervous. Baking is all about having a good time and enjoying the process."

Ellie nods once, her cheeks still flushed with embarrassment. "Yeah, I'm sure it'll be great," she says, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Reaching the back room, you release Ellie's hand and gesture towards the kitchen area. "Here we are," you say, motioning for her to take a seat on one of the chairs you pulled back here from the dining room. "Make yourself comfortable while I grab the rest of the ingredients."

As you rummage through the cabinets and pull out the remaining ingredients needed for the cupcakes, you can't help but feel a surge of excitement at the thought of teaching Ellie how to bake. Getting to spend any time with the adorably awkward, puppy-like freckle-faced girl was a blessing, but getting to do your favorite thing with her? It’s a dream come true.

Returning to the counter with an armful of ingredients, you grin at Ellie. "Alright, let's get started," you say eagerly. “First up, we have to… turn on the oven,” you stumble in the middle of your sentence as you get lost looking at Ellie’s tanned face, trying to memorize the placement of her paint-splattered freckles so that you could imagine her going do—that isn’t what today is about.

Ellie nods once, standing to her feet. “Sounds easy enough.”

As Ellie stands up, hands on her knees to help her get up, you can't help but admire the way her eyes sparkle with a mixture of excitement and nervousness as she looks at you. Holy shit, she’s looking at you. "Great!" you exclaim, shaking off your momentary distraction—for the hundredth time—and focusing on the task at hand. "Let's get this show on the road."

Together, you and the freckle-faced girl move towards the oven, your hands brushing against each other as you reach for the knob. Heat crawling up your neck and over the apples of your cheeks, you quickly move your hand and turn the knob to 350 degrees Fahrenheit, the soft hum of the oven heating up filling the air.

Still hot in the face, you turn toward Ellie, "Okay, next step, cupcake pans," you say, gesturing toward the neatly lined trays on the counter. With Ellie by your side, arms brushing, you grab the pans and place them on the counter, ready to put the liners in.

As you work, you steal glances at Ellie, admiring her focused expression as she carefully places each cupcake liner in its designated spot like it’s some kind of science experiment that could go wrong. Her tongue slightly sticking out of her plump lips in concentration is definitely cuter than it should be.

What you weren’t ready for was to have the auburn-haired girl turn her head and look at you as you distractedly stared at her, unable to shake the image of her soft, freckled cheeks, long, slender fingers, and strong arms from your mind.

Caught off guard by Ellie's piercing green gaze, you feel your heart skip a beat as you quickly avert your eyes. Clearing your throat, you focus on the task at hand, determined to maintain composure.

"Um, so, uh, yeah," you stammer, trying to regain your train of thought. "Looks like we're all set with the cupcake pans." You can practically feel the heat radiating from your cheeks as you turn back to the task, hoping to distract yourself from the intensity of Ellie's gaze.

With a shaky hand, you reach for the extra cupcake liners, trying to steady your nerves as you carefully place them back in a stack, ready for you to put away later.

When you're done—and your hands aren’t shaking anymore—you finally drag your gaze back to Ellie. Your breath catches in your throat as you realize she is still looking at you. Her green gaze—what you can only describe as a moss-covered forest bathed in warm, sparkling sunlight—feels like taking a knife to the heart, her head tilt—so dog-like—a sucker punch to the gut. You want her eyes on you forever—to bask in the warmth of her eyes and bathe in the depths of her soul—you realize as your heart tries to beat out of your chest.

Somehow, you find it within yourself to tear your eyes away from Ellie’s; it’s one of the hardest things you’ve ever done, and you run a bakery by yourself. Clearing your throat and staring at the prepped pans, you say, “Ah, um, we can start making the batter now, I guess.”

Ellie doesn’t hold in her laugh at your obvious discomfort, her melodic laughter filling the room with a warmth that soothes your frayed nerves. Despite the embarrassment of being caught in a moment of vulnerability, you can't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you at the sound of her laughter.

"Yeah, let's get started on that batter," Ellie says, her voice laced with amusement as she reaches for the ingredients on the counter. “What do we start with, pretty girl?”

“I–uh, holy shit…”

The freckled girl laughs even harder at your stunned expression, mouth hanging open and eyebrows raised. “Close your mouth, or you’ll catch flies,” she says, lips quirked up as she nudges your chin with her hand.

Her hand on you gets your mind racing in all different directions before you remember where you are. Snapping your gaping mouth shut, teeth clacking together, you gather yourself. “Uh yeah… we have to, ah… start with the dry ingredients.”

Ellie hums a “Mhmm” out, mouth still curved in a cocky smile as she tilts her head again—her stupidly pretty auburn hair catching the midday light filtering in from the window—leaning her hip against the counter.

“We have to shift the flour, sugar, cocoa powder, baking powder, and baking soda together into… this large bowl.” you point at every ingredient when you name them, picking up the stainless steel bowl when you find it.

“Sounds easy enough.”

This time, it’s you who hums an answer as you put the bowl down and grab the ingredients to start measuring. “If I measure, would you shift, Ellie?”

“Yes, ma’am.” she gives you a little salute.

So, as you hand over every measured dry ingredient, Ellie shifts it into the bowl. Her tongue makes another appearance as she focuses on getting every ingredient into the bowl with no spillage, causing you to overfill the ¼ teaspoon of baking soda. You quickly get the right amount into the teaspoon and clean up your mess, wiping your hands on your apron.

“Okay, now that’s done, we have to add the salt and whisk everything together.”

Ellie reaches for the salt, adding it to the bowl as you grab the whisk. She slides the bowl over to you, watching intently as you whisk. It’s one of the most mundane, boring parts of the baking process, yet she looks so entranced by the whisk circling the bowl, mixing the ingredients together.

Once everything is thoroughly mixed, you tap the whisk on the bowl and set it aside, putting your hands on your hips and turning towards the girl leaning casually on your counter. “Can I trust you with a knife?”

“Wh–I–Yes!” She splutters, eyebrows raised.

Giggling quietly to yourself, hand over your mouth, you shake your head. Dropping your hand, you say, “Sorry, I just had to ask. I need you to cut the butter if you could, please.”

“How could I say no to those puppy dog eyes, hmm?”

This time, it’s you who splutters, caught off guard. Instead of deigning the tease with a response, you turn your back to Ellie, hiding your burning face and grabbing the stand mixer you equipped with a paddle attachment. When that’s set up, and you can feel the burning embarrassment leave your face, you turn to Ellie, who is wielding a knife, cutting the room-temperature butter into uneven pieces.

“Babe, it’s gotta be more uniform than that.”

Ellie’s head snaps up, eyebrows furrowed, pupils blown wide, and knife almost cutting into her fingers. “Wh–what did you just call me?”

Caught in a moment of panic, you freeze, your heart pounding in your chest as you try to come up with a plausible explanation. The air feels thick with tension, every second stretching out into an eternity as you search for the right words to say. You hadn’t even realized you said it; it came so naturally, calling the auburn-haired girl babe. “I… nothing, nothing at all,” you spit out quickly, eyes going wide.

“Nah-uh, you called me ‘babe.’” A loud clattering sound makes you startle, your eyes moving from Ellie’s piercing greens to the knife that just hit the countertop.

"I… I didn't mean to," you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. "It just… slipped out."

Ellie's gaze remains fixed on you, you can feel it like a weight on your skin, pinning you in place as you struggle to regain your composure.

“Look at me,” she demands. You follow her directions immediately, your gaze taking in her expression. She looked almost dazed with a quizzical brow as she scratched her head.

"I'm sorry," you continue, your words tumbling out in a rush. "It was just a slip of the tongue. I didn't mean anything by it, I swear."

For a moment, the silence hangs heavy between you, broken only by the sound of your own rapid breathing. And then, without warning, Ellie's features soften, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"It's okay," she says softly, her voice like a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.

As Ellie's soft smile spreads across her face, her pearly whites making an appearance, a sense of relief washes over you like a warm embrace. Your shoulders drop from where they had taken a place beside your ears, and tension leaks out of you like butter in a baking croissant. The weight that had been pressing down on you lifted away like a heavy fog dispersing in the morning sun.

"Thanks," you murmur, gratitude lacing your words as you meet Ellie's gaze once more. Her eyes hold a warmth that makes your heart flutter, a silent reassurance that everything is okay between you.

With a playful glint in her eye, Ellie leans closer, her voice a soft whisper falling from her plump lips that sends shivers down your spine. "You know," she says, her tone teasing, "I don't mind being called babe."

Your heart skips a beat at her words.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you lean in, unable to resist the magnetic pull of Ellie's presence. "Good to know," you reply, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I'll try to remember that for next time."

As the last of the tension melts away like butter as it’s baked into the delicious treats you make, you and Ellie dive into the joyful task of baking red velvet cupcakes together. With each step of the recipe, you find yourselves falling into a comfortable rhythm, working seamlessly together as if you've been doing this for years.

The scent of cocoa and vanilla fills the air as you and Ellie chat and laugh, exchanging stories and getting to know each other on a deeper level. From childhood memories to dreams for the future, you two open your hearts and minds to each other.

As the cupcakes bake in the oven, you steal glances at Ellie, admiring the way her eyes light up when she talks about her passions and the infectious laughter that bubbles up from within her.

And when the cupcakes are finally cooled and ready, their red tops gleaming with perfection, you and Ellie decorate the cupcakes with swirls of cream cheese frosting and a sprinkle of red velvet crumbs together, playfully bumping shoulders and laughing at Ellie’s attempts at decorating.

As you sit down to enjoy the fruits of your labor, savoring each bite of the moist, decadent cupcakes, you realize that this is just the beginning of a beautiful friendship—and perhaps something more.

74 notes · View notes

suzukiblu · 2 days

Text

WIP excerpt for lottie behind the cut; a pocketful of Kons. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“No,” she snaps. “You just want to keep trying to wear me down about this.”

“You think I’m going to let you go meet Superman on the Watchtower?” Mom demands. “With no way off it and no way for me to know what’s happening up there?!”

“It’s the Watchtower, not the Fortress of Solitude!” Cassie fumes. Even if it were the Fortress of Solitude, it’s not like–

“Kal is not currently on the Watchtower, Helena,” Diana interrupts gently. “And even if he were, I would certainly not take Cassie to see him without at least informing you, nor leave them immediately unchaperoned.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better, Diana!” Mom snaps. “You’d still take her!”

“I would defer to Cassie’s preferences in at least meeting him, yes,” Diana agrees. “Being prepared for the worst is an understandable instinct, my friend, but fixating on the possibility will not help the situation.”

“She’s a child!” Mom says furiously. “She isn’t going anywhere near that man!”

“He’s my soulmate!” Cassie shouts at her. “And I’m old enough to go see him if I want! Heck, I'll be eighteen soon, I could go live with him if I wanted!"

“Cassie!” Mom says, looking horrified. Cassie glowers at her defensively, folding her arms. She could. She could probably do it now, even. That’s a thing sometimes, when a guardian or caretaker or relative or whatever tries to sabotage soulmate relationships. Like, legally it’s a thing, she means. There’s definitely been minors who got emancipated to be with soulmates their parents didn’t approve of. Like–usually it’s gay or interracial or different-religion soulmates, she’s pretty sure, but still. Age differences have definitely done it too.

If her mom’s going to keep trying to push it . . .

“Cassie?” Cas asks worriedly. He’s still holding Odie, floating in the middle of the kitchen and looking anxious again, and Cassie bites her tongue. That’s another reason her mom’s not coming. She keeps upsetting him, and Cassie’s having a hard time not making it worse herself, because she keeps saying such awful things that Cassie can’t bite back her responses to.

“It’s okay, Cas,” she says, and he chirps anxiously and then lets Odie down on the kitchen table before zipping back over to her to bob in the air in and around her head, hovering around her in restless loops.

“Cassie Cassie Cassie,” he frets. “Wondy!”

“That’s me, yeah,” Cassie says, trying to smile at him, then reaches up with cupped hands and lets him drop into them. He lands on his knees and pats anxiously at her face with both hands.

“Cassieeeee,” he frets again, and she exhales and brings him in against her collarbone. He throws his arms around her neck the best he can and clings to her.

She knows Pockets are more emotionally open and honest than the people they came from, usually, but is Superman really like this?

That’s . . . really sad, actually, and makes her feel kind of bad for him. Cas is sweet and wonderful, but he’s also clearly just so anxious and worried, and so easy to upset, and maybe it’s just because he’s brand-new, but obviously Superman’s not brand-new, so . . .

Well. Maybe that’s why Superman’s got another soulmate. If he needs more attention or support, or just more people in his life, or just . . . something like that, Cassie doesn’t really know. Maybe a less-destructible soulmate, since as far as anyone knows his other one is just a standard baseline human. Probably he worries about her, considering, especially if he really gets anxious this easily.

She just doesn’t get why her mom is so upset about something like that. If she can help something like that, well–that’s what soulmates are for, right?

“Our presence has been requested because the League would like to speak to Cassie and meet Castor,” Diana says while Mom is glaring at Cas again, because Mom is being the worst about this and Diana is at least, like, being fair. “Mostly to assess the situation, especially since Kal is allegedly in Metropolis again. Or at least, someone claiming his name and face is.”

“Yeah, I saw a feed of him online,” Cassie says, biting her lip as she remembers that odd–empty look, almost, that’d been on Superman’s face. It didn’t look anything like any of Cas’s expressions have so far, considering. Or any other expression she’s ever seen on his face. Not that they’ve met, obviously, but Superman’s in the news all the time. She’s seen his face a thousand times in her life, and it’s never looked like . . . that.

“Ah, did you?” Diana asks, tilting her head before giving her a nod. “Yes, there have been quite a few posted in the past hour or so, apparently. People are–concerned, given . . . everything.”

“Right,” Cassie says, thinking of that empty expression again and trying not to grimace at the memory of it. Cas really isn’t anything like that, though. Has Superman lost his memory, maybe, or . . . something? He died, so if he came back a little different . . .

Well. Cas isn’t as empty-faced as that news feed was, but also isn’t very much like the pictures she’s seen of Superman before either, really. So . . .

So she isn’t sure, really, what that means. Is he hurt? Is something wrong with him? Does he need help?

She didn’t see his Pocket on the feed. Not the one he’s had all these years in the public eye, and not one from herself either. Maybe he just hasn’t slept, though. Is that a thing? She always thought both soulmates had to be asleep at the same time for Pockets to appear, but maybe not. Maybe that’s just an old wives’ tale or something. And who knows how that even works with Kryptonians, anyway? Who knows if Kryptonians even sleep? Like, ever?

She could ask Diana, she guesses, but it’s probably not the time.

#lottie #wip: a pocketful of kons

57 notes · View notes

30somethingautisticteacher · 7 hours

Text

Vows

Thomas Michael Kinard, you are the man of my dreams... No, Buck thought, too cheesy, and he scribbled that out. "Tommy, you are the coolest person I've ever met..." Nope, too casual, Buck decided, scratching that line out too. "Tommy, you complete me..." No, that wasn't quite right either. Buck's mind wandered, "Tommy, your body rocks my world, and I can't wait to get you into bed tonight." He grinned at the thought, but quickly dismissed it. True, but definitely not appropriate for his vows.

Buck sighed, frustration mounting. Why was this so difficult? He knew, without a doubt, how much he loved Tommy, so why couldn't he put those feelings into words on paper?

Buck and Tommy had decided that they wanted to write their own vows, because really, there was nothing traditional about them as a couple. Buck tapped his pen against the dining table, contemplating his next words. "Tommy, when I met you, I thought I was straight, but then you kissed me and my entire world shifted." Not a bad start, Buck decided, nodding his head in approval.

As he leaned back in his chair, his mind wandered to Tommy. Was he also struggling to find the right words to express their love? Buck couldn't help but smile at the thought of Tommy, perhaps pacing back and forth in his living room, running his hands through his hair as he searched for the perfect way to express his feelings.

****

"Maddie, why is this so difficult? I know what I want to say, but I just can't get it from my brain to the paper!" Tommy groaned, frustration evident in his voice.

Maddie smiled reassuringly, "Well, I'm happy to help. What do you have so far?"

Tommy hesitated for a moment before sliding the notebook over to her. Maddie began reading aloud, "Evan, I have never met someone as unbelievably sexy as you. I am constantly thinking of what I want to do to you and fantasizing about that thing you do with your tongue..."

Tommy made a choking noise and quickly ripped the notebook from Maddie's hands, his face turning a deep shade of red. "Those ones are private," he mumbled, embarrassment radiating off him.

"Well, I would hope so!" Maddie exclaimed, her eyes widening. "Wine... I need wine. I have to forget that ever happened. He's my brother, Tommy!" Maddie exclaimed, shaking her head vigorously as if trying to physically dislodge the memory. Tommy had never felt more humiliated in his life, wishing the ground would just swallow him whole.

Sensing his discomfort, Maddie suggested, "Let's pause the vows for a minute." She grabbed a bottle of red wine and poured a generous glass for each of them. "How's the guest list coming along? RSVPs were supposed to be returned by Thursday, right?"

Tommy nodded, grateful for the change of subject. "We got the last one we had been waiting on yesterday, Evan's friend TK and his husband Carlos. So now we have a firm final number, and we can complete the seating chart."

Maddie's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Can you believe you're getting married next week?" she squealed, her earlier discomfort forgotten.

Tommy really couldn't believe it. Before Evan, he didn't think marriage was even a possibility for him and had resigned himself to being whatever the male version of a spinster was. But here he was, just days away from marrying the love of his life.

**** Buck stared at the crumpled pieces of paper scattered across the dining table, feeling utterly defeated. He needed help, but somehow, he was the only member of the fire family without a shift today. Pulling out his phone, he opened up the 118 group text. It was the next best thing, Buck thought.

He quickly typed out a message: "SOS! I need help with my vows."

Chim was the first to respond, "Not sure how much help I'll be, bro. I got married in a hospital."

Eddie chimed in, "I'm not exactly the poster child for healthy relationships."

"That's the understatement of the century," Buck muttered under his breath.

Feeling frustrated, Buck sent another message, "Seriously? No one is willing to help? Everything I've come up with is literal garbage."

Hen's reply came through, "I've got you, Buckaroo. Happy to help."

Bobby's message followed shortly after, "You know I'd love to help you, kid. Why don't you head down to the station for family dinner, and we can brainstorm."

Buck heaved a sigh of relief, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. He grabbed his jacket (well, really Tommy's jacket) and headed out the door, eager to get some much-needed assistance from his chosen family.

****

Maddie sipped her wine, observing Tommy as he animatedly discussed the wedding details. She had let him procrastinate long enough, allowing him to steer the conversation away from the vows. They had covered everything from the guest list to the centerpieces (a beautiful combination of dahlias and calla lilies), the attire (tailored suits, navy for Tommy and maroon for Evan), the menu (a delectable array of Italian dishes), and the cake (a towering three-layer masterpiece with smooth buttercream and tangy raspberry filling).

Maddie knew it was time for Tommy to focus on his vows. She set her wine glass down and turned to him. "Tommy, let's get back to your vows. I want you to close your eyes and think about specific moments with Evan. Focus on how you felt in those moments – the warmth, the laughter, the comfort. Those are the feelings you want to capture."

Tommy closed his eyes, letting memories flood his mind. Evan's laughter, his gentle touch, the quiet moments they shared.

"Now," Maddie said softly, "open your eyes and write. Don't worry about making it perfect. Just let the words flow from your heart."

Tommy opened his eyes, picked up his pen, and began to write. The words poured out, filling the page with heartfelt emotions. Maddie watched, smiling proudly as Tommy found his voice.

****

Buck sat at the firehouse table, his head in his hands as he struggled with the task of writing his vows. The weight of the task seemed to bear down on him, and he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. Well, you could always go traditional," Eddie suggested with a shrug.

Buck shot him a look, making it clear that wasn't an option. "What do I saaay, Cap?" he whined, turning to Bobby.

Bobby looked at Buck with a fatherly expression. "I think the problem, Buck, is that you're trying to find the perfect words, and there's no such thing. Do you know how much Tommy loves you?"

Buck nodded.

"And does Tommy know how much you love him?" Bobby asked.

Another nod.

"Then that's enough," Bobby said firmly. "Tommy knows your heart, Buck. Regardless of what you say, you show him how much you love him every day."

As Bobby's words sank in, Buck felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He sat up straighter, his mind clearer and his purpose focused. The love he shared with Tommy was the foundation, and the vows were simply a way to express that love.

With renewed determination, Buck grabbed a pen and paper, ready to pour his heart out in a way that truly reflected his feelings for Tommy.

****

The remaining days before the wedding passed in a blur, and soon the big day arrived. As the music started, Jee-Yun walked down the aisle where Bobby and Tommy were standing. She spread her petals before running over and jumping into her daddy's lap.

Maddie grasped Buck's hand, feeling it was clammy and noticing he was shaking a bit. "Ready to do this?" she asked.

Buck nodded, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

"Then let's go see your man," Maddie said with a warm smile.

Buck and Maddie started down the aisle, and Buck's breath hitched in his chest. There, waiting for him, was the most beautiful man in the entire world. Tommy was staring back at him, his face adorned with that special, crinkly-eyed smile reserved just for Buck – the "Evan smile."

Buck had to stop himself from running to Tommy. He could not wait to become his husband. Finally, he reached the end of the aisle, and Maddie gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Buck stood next to Tommy and grasped his hands, his heart swelling with love and anticipation. Tommy leaned in and whispered, "Hey, gorgeous," before giving Buck a little wink. The gesture, so intimate and playful, made Buck's knees weak. He nearly passed out from the overwhelming happiness he was feeling in this moment, standing beside the man he loved.

Bobby looked at the two men with a proud smile and began the ceremony. It felt like everything was happening too quickly, and in a blink, it was time for the vows. It had been decided that Buck would read his first, so he began:

"Tommy, I spent so much of my life desperately searching for something that I couldn't put a name to. I was lost, aimlessly wandering through life, and then you kissed me, and everything came into focus. You helped me to see a whole other side of myself and to accept myself for everything that I am. From the moment we started dating, I knew that there was something different about our relationship. Something strong. And then I went and screwed it up by talking about hot chicks on our first date."

The guests laughed politely at Buck's confession.

"But you never made me feel bad. You wanted to let me do things on my own timeline, and you were open to giving me a second chance. And after that coffee date, I swore to myself that I was going to do everything in my power to keep you."

Buck paused for a moment, his eyes locked on Tommy's, before continuing.

"Tommy, you opened my eyes to a whole new world. You have made me feel safe, protected, and like I matter. Your love is my lifeline, and I vow to spend the rest of my life working to be the man that you deserve."

As Buck finished his vows, Tommy, deeply moved by his words, responded softly, "Oh baby, you already are." His voice was barely louder than a whisper, but it carried the weight of his love and admiration for the man standing before him.

Bobby smiled and indicated with a small nod that it was Tommy's turn. Tommy took a deep breath, his eyes glistening as he began his vows.

"Evan Matthew Buckley, you are sunshine personified. For so long, I lived my life with a dark cloud above me. I was scared to share my heart with anyone. I spent so many years in the closet, afraid to admit who I was. And even after I had accepted myself, I still walked around with a chip on my shoulder, mad at the world."

Tommy paused, reaching out to take Buck's hands in his own, his touch gentle and reassuring.

"You changed all that, Evan. You softened my heart and allowed me to be vulnerable. Your love melted my icy heart, and you brought warmth and light into my life in a way I never thought possible."

Tommy's voice wavered slightly, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He took a steadying breath, his eyes never leaving Buck's.

"Ev, your love makes me a better person, and I vow to spend every day of my life protecting you from the harshness of the world and never allowing anyone to extinguish your beautiful sparkle."

As Tommy finished his vows, a single tear rolled down his cheek. Buck, equally moved, reached out to gently wipe it away, his own eyes shining with love.

"I believe you have rings to exchange," Bobby said, and they both nodded, never taking their eyes off one another.

"Do you, Evan Matthew Buckley, take Thomas Michael Kinard to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do," Buck replied, sliding the ring onto Tommy's finger, his hand trembling slightly with emotion.

"And do you, Thomas Michael Kinard, take Evan Matthew Buckley to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I absolutely do," Tommy said as he slipped the ring on Evan's finger, his smile so big it looked like it might actually be painful.

Bobby beamed at the newlyweds, his voice filled with joy as he proclaimed, "Then by the powers vested in me, I am delighted to pronounce you husband and husband. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you Thomas and Evan Kinard!"

#bucktommy #tevan #kinley #evan buckley #tommy kinard #firepilot #tevan wedding

35 notes · View notes

citylighten · 2 days

Text

@cocoanmelaninsims @sheplayswithlifee @wannabecatwriter @percosim

@havenroyals @splodge86 @eslanes @xldkx

@nyrarachelle @spiderlilyart @ellemant @ladygangsters

@swiftviolets @weirdosalike @smok3inm1rrors @dresdendarlin @quesims

@digital-deluxe @keesimziaa @thewalkingplumbob @4twenny @nightlifeseries

@miss-may-i @spnmoosejerk

“I called him.” Goodlove says.

“Yeah.” Sal replies, hoping he catches onto his lack of enthuasiam.

“Told him I’m just around the corner. So what you gonna do is head up t’his room - s’402, look out for that number - you know on his door. Say you’re from 404 and ask if he got some cigarettes. Then - now listen carefully now - I’m gonna give him another call ‘round that time and that’s when y’pull your piece out.”

At this point, Sal could agree and get Goodlove off the phone, but he wonders what Goodlove would say if he was woefully unprepared for this essential hit.

“Y’know I ain’t got a hoodie or mask, right?”

“You ain’t-” Opposed to Sal’s calm question, Goodlove was alarmed. Sal thinks he heard a little offense there too. But, the other man doesn’t conclude his exclamation. With his composure up, he says: “God will see us through. Best believe, God will see us through.”

“Yeah…” Sal grunts.

“Now you get t’movin’, this timin’ is everything.” “Right.”

And with that, the call is over.

Sal couldn’t get Goodlove off his back. Prior to this call, he rang him up three times to make sure he was on his way to his brother’s motel and all that shit.

Goodlove’s itching a little too much to get rid of his brother. This was nothing but an indication to Sal that there’s shit in his private life that he really wants confined to the dark. Sal asks himself, what if Goodlove’s really the one who did, ‘the worst thing you could do to another human being’?

Although Sal has no intentions of pulling the trigger on this stranger, he does think of what the outcome of such a thing would be. The first possibility of this murder is jail, of course. Where he’ll join Ben and form an unlikely alliance for the greater good. Sal would rather avoid that.

The second possibility is Goodlove will proceed to see him as his little hitman and moments like this will go on and on and on until one of them fucks with the wrong person. If Sal and Goodlove aren’t dead they’ll end up in hot water for getting sloppy and Goodlove won’t hesitate tossing him under the bus. Which circles back to that jail idea…

The third thing that comes to Sal’s mind is retaliation. What if Goodlove’s brother has a kid about his age who doesn’t take kindly to his dad’s murder? They’re a crime family, from what he understands, after all. Beyond that? Even if his brother is just a normal guy? Sal can’t imagine this theoretical kid letting this slide. Sal actually finds himself thinking that he would shoot someone between the eyes if Franco was killed by some asshole. Actually empathetic, Sal decides he shouldn’t just drive away. He ought to give Goodlove’s brother a heads up - and if the man is hostile?

Well, Sal opens the glove compartment and tucks the pistol by his belt.

If Goodlove’s brother doesn’t blow his head off, Sal swears he’s going to kick Goodlove’s motherfucking ass. He swears on his mother’s grave that he will!

Composed, Sal knocks against room 402 and in no time at all, Goodlove’s brother appears. He doesn’t seem offended at the sight of Sal: only wearing the perplexed expression that many sport when unfamiliar faces come to their door. “Can I help you?” He asks in his smoky voice. “Look.” Sal begins, “Y’don’t know me. I’unno you. But I’m here with a heads up: your brother’s talkin’ about offin’ you.”

BEGINNING // PREVIOUS // NEXT

#sink or swim #sink or swim: chapter 6 #ts4 story #ts4 storytelling #Spotify

25 notes · View notes

cattimeswithjellie · 3 days

Text

Stream Recap, ZombieCleo, 6/12/24

((These recaps go out very lightly proofread, FYI. Feel free to comment with anything egregious that needs to be corrected, but they're not gonna be perfect. They just take too long, lol.))

0:00 Cleo opens the stream by calling the chat to awaken and feel her pain. Or don’t, because not doing that is cool too. She welcomes everyone to the stream and points out that she is not in her base. Whose base is she in? She asks the chat to guess; they correctly guess Joel. Joel wants to commission statue work. He wants a statue that represents his friendship with Jimmy. Cleo’s willing but not quite sure how to go about it. She asks Chat for suggestions. If Chat had to make a Jimmy and Joel statue, what would they do? Cleo’s immediate thought is Jimmy in a little cowboy hat and Joel puppeting him on strings, or possibly Jimmy and Joel as Bad Boys, doing Bad Boy things. Joel might appreciate them on motorbikes. Chat’s suggestions include Jimmy and Joel holding hands under a rainbow, Tiny Jimmy on Joel’s shoulders, and Joel with his arm around Jimmy.

3:10 Cleo points out that Joel and Jimmy’s relationship does not really seem to be one of two bros hanging out and being affectionate with one another. They are more about two bros hanging out and taking the piss. She also doesn’t want to do Tiny Jimmy because she knows them from the Life Series. She’s leaning towards Bad Boys and motorbikes. She thanks subs and donos. A chatter says “Armor stand time?” Cleo is not sure if it’s armor stand time yet, because they need to finish their own base and to come up with some kind of motorbike design. Chat suggests “Joel on a motorbike and Jimmy on a tricycle” and “Joel and Jimmy on motorbikes but Jimmy is a little bit smaller.” Cleo thinks if she can get their Bad Boy skins she can do it with no problem. Chat suggests motorbikes with TNT minecarts strapped to the back.

5:30 Cleo arrives back at her own base and shows Chat what she’s been up to. She’s blocked off the elevator temporarily because it won’t be ready by tomorrow and is hoping to finish the tower room she’s been decorating. She does not elaborate on what the Thursday thing is that she is preparing for. A chatter plays an explosion noise. She calls them rude but doesn’t mean it. A chatter asks if they can put Cleo in a Hermitcraft poem. Cleo says sure, that doesn’t affect them at all. The problem with a floor made of trap doors is that it is hard to stack up on to reach the ceiling, but Cleo manages and shows off some potential hanging shelf designs. They’ve got a lot of stuff to decorate, including smithing templates and potsherds, and want to make a demon with a moving jaw in the summoning circle. That is the plan.

10:00 There is one blank spot on a wall that Cleo doesn’t know what to do with. She asks the chat for thoughts. Chat suggests stained glass window. Cleo shows that the exterior wall is not big enough for a window. Chat suggests banners or a mural. Cleo reiterates how much they are looking forward to the new paintings. They look through their smithing templates to decide which ones to display and what sort of plinth to use. There will be fire coming up from the floor as well. A chatter shares a pride message, Cleo wishes everyone happy pride.

13:00 Cleo needs gold and doesn’t have any. She goes to find some and makes some gold pressure plates. Armor stand work begins! A chatter plays sour jellybean. A chatter asks what Cleo is making. They say “a mess.” Cleo says hello to Cub when he signs in. A chatter asks about the music or lack thereof, Cleo reminds Chat that the music was a once-off because having music affects the ability to monetize a VOD.

17:30 More armor stand work. The gold plinth is completed and locked. Cleo puts the Silence trim on it because it has an attractive dusting of skulk. She has so much stuff to put away before tomorrow! She thanks subs and donos. Impulse raids into the stream. Cleo says they are definitely not summoning demons and tells chat to be cool, okay? Pearl raids into the stream as well. Chat helps Cleo figure out how to successfully copy the smithing template. Chat thinks it is funny that Pearl streamed so long ((six hours)) that Impulse started and finished his whole stream during it.

23:00 Cleo confirms that Pearl is crazy. They are complimenting Pearl’s redstone skills when Pearl herself appears, protesting being called crazy while absolutely exuding 5am Pearl vibes. Cleo points out they were literally saying “Pearl is crazy and awesome.” Pearl admits she didn’t hear the awesome part. Cleo sings the Happy Birthday song, using the “you look like a monkey” variant. Pearl protests being called crazy and like a monkey. Cleo points out that she does have a sword in her head. ((Pearl is wearing her new Mission Possible reward: the hat that looks like a sword through the head.)) Pearl asks her to pull it out. Cleo slaps her a couple times, but it does not help. Cleo tells her she needs the true king of England to pull the sword out of her brain. Pearl asks if she pulls it out herself, is she the true queen? Cleo says sure, that seems right. Magically, the sword disappears from Pearl’s head and a diamond sword appears in her hand. Cleo says they will follow Pearl. Pearl puts the sword back in her head for safekeeping.

25:00 Today is Pearl’s birthday, technically, depending on timezones. Cleo says she is not sure if she should tell Pearl to sleep or to go out and do stuff. Pearl says it’s still dark out ((It is 5:30am Pearl time and she has just completed a six-hour streaming session)) but she will go out and run around the neighborhood like a crazy lady if Cleo wants her to. Cleo says go to sleep. Pearl asks what if she just wants to do redstone? Gem appears and smashes Pearl with a sword, setting her on fire, which does seem to be the best possible answer to that question. Gem shouts that she needs to kill Pearl for her birthday, it’s important! Pearl shrieks and flies away, still on fire. Cleo asks if birthday murder is a thing, Gem insists that it is and flies off after Pearl. Cleo sets up a respawn bed for Pearl, who is dopplering in and out of chat overhead. Gem lands and talks with Cleo about how crazy Pearl is because she never sleeps. The chase continues.

27:20 Pearl lands on Gem’s roof and claims it is a safe space. Gem points out that she can get up there. Pearl says she can fly away. Gem reiterates the importance of birthday murder and points out that it only took 20 days for Pearl to catch up to her in age. Cleo understands that this is some sort of thing that the Kids These Days are doing and she can safely stop trying to understand. Gem continues trying to give Pearl her birthday present, which is murder. She begins scaffolding onto the roof. Pearl says she wants a jar of pickles instead and demands to know where her pickles are. ((Gem has the sea pickle permit, and Pearl has been buying her out consistently, partly for tree decorations and partly because it makes Gem crazy.)) She begins breaking the scaffolding as Gem tries to climb up. Cleo, at a safe distance, says this is like Looney Tunes but she’s not sure which one is Wile E. Coyote.

28:30 Gem says, apparently straightfaced, that she would never do anything violent at Cleo’s base. Cleo points out the whole stabbing Pearl already thing. Gem plays Scar’s “Don’t Put That in My Mouth” horn. Pearl demands to know how that was contextual. Gem admits she just hasn’t used it in awhile. She flies up to the roof and spooks Pearl, who falls off the roof, catches herself, flies away and loops around the wizard tower before landing again. Cleo admires Gem’s ability to scare Pearl without doing anything. Gem appreciates this and begins punching Cleo ((Gem’s primary means of showing affection.)) Pearl is dismayed by this turn of events. “Oh no, Cleo,” she cries, leading to a discussion of the excellent way that Australian people pronounce “Cleo.”

29:50 The chase resumes. Cleo reminds Pearl she should sleep. Pearl refuses and asks what Cleo plans to do about it. Cleo does not plan on doing anything. Pearl suggests that maybe Cleo should stop worrying about Pearl and start worrying about stopping Gem doing what she’s doing to Cleo. Gem has disappeared over the roofline. Cleo tells Gem to stop flipping up the trapdoors, there’s a tour tomorrow! Gem does not know about any tours, she’s been gone for days and is trying to make up on her quota of being annoying. Cleo assures her that she is succeeding, then tells her that the Hermit meeting tomorrow is canceled and they are doing base tours instead. Neither Pearl nor Gem know if they’ll be able to come, since meeting time is not good for them. Pearl insists that they have to promise to play the word game. Cleo asks if she wants them to play the game now, and says they have never played Wordle. Pearl demands to know why so many people have not played Wordle. Pearl tries to explain Wordle while Gem makes halfhearted attempts to murder her, including baiting her with Cleo’s sea pickles. They decide to go play Wordle.

32:30 Pearl leads the way to the flower shop, mostly coasting because she has forgotten to restock her rockets. She shows them the rulebook, but Cleo and Gem both refuse to read today. Cleo does insist on paying a diamond to play. Chat accepts that Hermits don’t actually know how to read. Pearl explains the rules and mechanics of Dyeduction, her redstone Wordle game. It is very similar to Wordle except that four consonants are excluded from the game and repeated letters are not allowed.

36:45 Cleo and Gem need to pick a five letter starting word. Gem immediately tries “PEARL.” Gem is having some real trouble spelling Pearl today. She takes the letters off the item frames and puts them in the dropper, which causes Pearl incredible distress. Cleo presses the Confirm Guess button. They have E and L correct, but in the wrong place.

39:00 Cleo thinks about a second word. She thinks about Melon, but that has the E in the same place. Gem doesn’t know any five letter words. Pearl cheerfully tells them that hard mode will add a timer. Neither Cleo nor Gem can think of any words with E and L in them. They argue about strategy. Cleo accuses Pearl of schadenfreude and asks why she is like this. Pearl points out that they wanted to play. They decide to try “SLICE.” They get another connect letter, I, but nothing in the right place.

44:50 Pearl leaves them to ruminate and goes AFK. Gem and Cleo try to remember what their words are. Gem wants Pearl to place a sign they can use to take notes. Pearl suggests a pencil and paper. Cleo’s mod brings chat back from emote mode, having blacklisted the answer so no one can say it. They decide to try “LIKED” and begin pulling letters for the attempt. Some of them take a moment to find. Gem declares she found the D. Pearl mutters a “that’s what she said.” Gem shouts at her. Of all the people in the room, Gem thinks Pearl is least likely to have made that joke. Cleo thinks it is very funny. Chat agrees wholeheartedly. They test the word and have two in the right spot and all but one letter. They are making it harder on themselves by both grabbing letters from the chests.

50:00 Time to find another word. Pearl is yawning. Gem insists that she warned Pearl that she was dumb and Pearl insisted anyway. Pearl says she really is entertained. Cleo suggests “FIELD.” They set up for a test with Pearl egging them on. The word is correct, they get the win condition. Everyone celebrates! Pearl tells them that 20 minutes and four guesses is about average so far, though Skizz did ten minutes and three guesses. Pearl hands out prizes to both of them. She tells them that in the future she will be adding flower crowns but plans to set them as a reward for hard mode. Cleo demands to know why Pearl hates her when Cleo has shown her nothing but love. Pearl points out that everyone is succeeding, so the game needs to be harder. Gem promises that if she plays alone, she will definitely fail. Pearl shows them how to put away and reset the game.

54:10 Cleo is very impressed by all Pearl’s work on the game. Pearl shows off her randomizer. Cleo and Gem now know who to come to for all their redstoning need. Gem cheers that she doesn’t need to bother Impulse anymore. Pearl demurs that she’s not really so good, Cleo points out that she build Wordle in eight hours. Pearl says it was more than 8 all things considered. Cleo says she needs Pearl to stick around so she’s available every time Cleo wants to play. Pearl says she can’t be around all the time, Cleo points out that Pearl basically _is_ around all the time. Gem can’t believe that Pearl made the joke about the letter D. Pearl’s really grown up now that she’s 28. Cleo says she is too mature for this and insists that she never swears. Gem mentions seeing a Tiktok where Cleo said the F word twice at MCC. Cleo admits this is true. She says if they want her to swear she can swear, but they don’t want her to swear. Gem enjoys it when Cleo swears, and chat wholeheartedly agrees. Pearl admits some Hermits swear and thinks nobody will be surprised. Cleo tells them that back in Season 2 they swore a lot more in their videos and Xisuma asked them to consider going PG. This was in the days before the Algorithm. Swearing is actually not as important to the algorithm anymore, but Cleo tries to keep it clean out of respect for the server’s PG streamers.

58:00 Pearl calls out “She’s in my noodles!” “Excuse you?” Cleo asks. Gem has climbed into Pearl’s redstone and is poking around. Pearl asks what’s wrong with her noodles. Cleo hums and says it sounds euphemistic. Pearl is outraged and demands to know how it could be possible that she would have multiple noodles that Gem would be rifling around in. Cleo clears their throat. “You’re making it worse,” Gem tells her. It wasn’t that bad, and then Pearl just kept talking. Cleo is laughing really hard by now. Chat is too. Cleo wishes everyone happy pride month. Gem is punching again. She builds a wood structure to contain Cleo and calls it a makeshift closet. Cleo chops it down and insists that Gem cannot put them back into the closet, that’s not allowed. Getting out of the closet took a long time and was very traumatic the first time! “Least it was quicker this time ‘round,” Pearl observes philosophically.

1:00:00 Everyone takes a moment to breathe. Gem observes that she and Pearl are putting Cleo through it today. Cleo says they are fine, they had to deal with Joe this morning and this is comparatively fine. Xisuma plays the “Awooooo!” horn from upstairs and then comes down to join them. Gem demands to know if Xisuma really made a horn of himself howling, then demands to know what is _wrong_ with this server. He plays Cleo’s howling horn as well, then asks if Pearl or Gem has a wool permit, because if so they can get in on the horn action. Gem figures out that it’s a Wolves of Wool Street bit.

1:01:20 Xisuma notices that Pearl has a sword in her head and slaps her trying to help get it out, just like everyone else. Cleo jokes that the sword’s probably not actually touching Pearl’s brain because there’s a lot of room in there. Pearl is fake-mortally affronted and pretends to leave. Cleo calls “Happy birthday!” after her. Pearl stomps back and says she was about to make that joke but Cleo is definitely not allowed. Cleo says they do it because they care. They demand a better Awoo from Pearl. Pearl does a few Awoos. Xisuma says she should practice before he clips it into a horn. Gem says she’s starting to understand why people question what they do for work. She plays the “Oh My God” horn. Cleo grabs out her own horn box and plays Grian’s “I’m eating a curly-whirly right now but it’s nice to see Xisuma” horn. Xisuma says playing on this server just gets more confusing. Gem plays Scar’s “Don’t put that in my mouth” horn.

1:03:10 Xisuma catches sight of the Wordle game and gets very excited. He says the game is amazing. Pearl and Cleo both play Gem’s “That’s amazing!” horn. Gem says she is definitely not that loud. Pearl suggests X should play, but X says he’s very bad at word games. Pearl says she needs someone to fail for testing purposes. X asks if she can’t just fail deliberately, but Pearl insists it is not the same. Xisuma is having some voice chat trouble. Gem is bored and punching people. Pearl suggests she could change the world and the other three can work as a team to solve it. Xisuma tries to remember the rules to Wordle, Pearl helps him.

1:06:20 Xisuma thinks about a first word, decides on “SHEAR.” Pearl has not reset the word, so apparently the others will only be providing moral support. He gets the E in the right place and no other letters right. Cleo gives him gameplay advice but no word-choice advice. Gem points out he’s already doing better than they did. Xisuma recommends texturing the letters, Pearl says she’s been thinking about it. While Xisuma thinks, Cleo thanks her subs and donos. In the background, Xisuma is asking Pearl how to spell “field.” Pearl spells it for him. Xisuma wins on the second guess. Cleo insists that the fix is in. Pearl reminds him that he said he was bad at word games. Xisuma says he didn’t play it like a word game, but a game of deduction, eliminating letters. He gets a prize bundle. Xisuma wants to look at the redstone, but Pearl makes him reset the game first. He resets without reading the sign and has to do it twice. He breaks the game a little in doing so. Pearl fixes it up while Gem messes with the trapdoors. Pearl accuses Gem and Cleo of messing with the game. Cleo claims innocence, but Gem tells them they are guilty by association. Cleo agrees it’s a fair cop. Xisuma has disappeared, presumably into the noodles.

1:13:50 Pearl explains the redstone of the game to Xisuma. They talk redstone. Cleo wanders around, eventually leaving the game and going back into the unfurnished flower shop. Gem is visible in the background, flipping trapdoors. Cleo begins to help flipping trapdoors. Xisuma compliments Pearl’s redstone prowess and assumes she must have done other projects before this. Pearl says nope. Xisuma finds that hard to believe, since she’s put together so many different logical system. Cleo and Gem suggest that maybe redstone’s just not that difficult after all. Xisuma threatens to teach them redstone. Pearl says she got a lot of help from her chat, but Cleo insists that doesn’t mean Pearl didn’t do the bulk of the work. Pearl does feel like she knows a lot more about redstone now. X tells her that her redstone is so impressive and he hopes they’ll be seeing a lot more redstone from her. This is just the beginning. It’s very wholesome except Cleo and Gem are still flipping trapdoors.

1:18:00 Cleo and Gem do not want to make redstone games or to learn redstone. Cleo hated teaching electronics when they were a teacher. They understand enough to do it but they don’t enjoy it and don’t want to do math on their day off. X and Pearl agree that’s understandable. Gem says she doesn’t like games with too much intensive problem solving, but she knows those are the ones Pearl loves. Pearl thanks X for playing the game. Chat gives Cleo the idea for a redstone game involving a random chance of dropping TNT on people. Cleo likes the idea. The group talks briefly about Zelda. Someone makes a very weird noise. X and Cleo are confused and Cleo thinks it’s a horn, but Gem correctly identifies the sounds as the noises Pearl makes when she’s stretching. Cleo says she really needs to do the stuff she needs to do before tomorrow. X confirms he will be there tomorrow and says he came over in the first place to find Cleo. Pearl complains that everyone goes crazy around her, Cleo points out that makes Pearl the common denominator. X is dismayed by Gem’s trapdoor shenanigans. Cleo tells Pearl she is wonderful and amazing, and Cleo will never tell her that when it is not her birthday. Xisuma tries to tell Cleo that it is also his birthday, but his birthday was last week. Cleo suddenly remembers that they missed False’s birthday and apologizes in chat. False is confused, and Cleo is unintentionally threatening about it. Xisuma makes it worse. False is now concerned.

1:24:15 Gem sees Jevin’s prank on the Death Scar for the first time. Taking off for a week means one misses a lot. Xisuma doesn’t know if Scar’s going to have the energy to undo that prank, especially with his surgery and recovery coming up. It could be a Death Emoji for the rest of the season. Cleo points out that Jev will take it down if Scar asks, because Jev does clean up his pranks. Cleo protests that she needs to go do her work, even as she doesn’t leave. Everyone whines about it. Someone attracts phantoms. Gem sets Cleo on fire while fighting them. Cleo complains about that too, then tells Pearl to go to bed. Gem suggests that is Cleo is sick of them, they should go bug Tango. They can make Tango guess the word! Cleo gives Pearl some rockets so she and Gem can bug Tango. They leave. Cleo sends Tango an apology in chat.

1:28:00 With the youngsters gone, Xisuma admits that he came over in the first place to raid Cleo, but that was like 30 minutes ago. It was a pleasant distraction though. He is going to wrap up his stream and send the chat to them. Cleo says it’s time for more armor stands. Tango is confused in chat. Cleo heads home for more armor stand work. Chat says Gem and Pearl are so precious. Cleo says that’s one way to put it. Chat says they were both great additions to Hermitcraft. Cleo says there are some moments when they wonder how they ever did it without them, and then are “Oh yeah, I know!” They get back to work on placing the smithing template.

1:30:00 Xisuma raids into the stream. Cleo greets the raid and gets jumpscared by a chatter playing a scary noise. Some of X’s emotes set off the automod because they are all caps. Cleo completes the first summoning stone and needs four more. They choose another template and goes to copy more. They explain to new chatters that they are summoning demons, but good demons, demons they control. Grian signs on and wants everyone to know he is back from badminton. ((Read Impulse’s 6/12 stream recap for context on that.)) He leaves again. Gem asks why he is this way, Cleo says it’s mostly having too much time on his hands.

1:34:30 A chatter asks if anyone on the server is normal. Cleo refutes that idea hastily, saying that nobody on the server wants to be normal, being normal would make everything take so much longer. Mod Cam thinks Joe is the closest to normal. “Jesus, that’s a statement,” says Cleo. A chatter says normal is boring. Cleo says yeah, but it can be nice. Also an affliction. Chat is arguing about who the most normal Hermit is. There is no consensus. Cleo places the armor stands that will mark the spots for the other summoning stones.

1:37:20 A chatter asks what mod Cleo uses for armor stands, they namedrop Armor Poser. A chatter asks if Cleo is bi, they say yes and joke “for my sins. And your sins!” Another chatter says it should’ve been obvious based on all the closet jokes earlier. Cleo says that asking is fine and polite, assuming things is not. A chatter plays Giant Zombie. Cleo continues working on the summoning stones, which are going fast now that they have the plan. A chatter asks if Cleo is going to TwitchCon, they say no.

A chatter asks if they are summoning Ren, they say no, they are summoning things that will have calibrated skulk sensors for faces.

1:43:00 A chatter plays emote-only mode. Cleo finishes the plinths and says they would love it if the Armor Poser interface was smaller on the screen. They wonder if they can change that. Xisuma makes a winky face in chat. Cleo says this is the most sinister thing. Something is about to happen and they won’t know what it is until the dust settles. A chatter asks about the zombie hands and Cleo explains all the hand emotes. They begin putting the smithing template “waystones” onto the plinths and say they’re looking forward to showing this off tomorrow. A chatter plays sour jellybean. A chatter asks if Cleo has read Discworld; Cleo says they lived off Discworld when they were younger. A chatter asks about candles, candles don’t go well with armor stand work because they are not appropriately 3D. A chatter threatens Cleo with more beans, Cleo is not interested in more beans. A chatter suggests a candle flame might be usable if combined with a cake hidden in the floor. Cleo thinks that might be possible.

1:53:00 Cleo flies to the food store and buys some expensive cake. They want to check if the idea will work before they buy out the shop. It does not work because another armor stand is in the way. Cleo cannot pick up the cake and try again, so she eats it instead. Chat has more ideas about runes and candles. The next step of the summoning circle is making the demon and that is tomorrow’s project, so Cleo turns her attention to the shelves. Chat is very interested in an eyeball in a jar. Cleo makes one for them. They talk with Chat about Etho in MCC. Etho has been getting sweaty on MCCI, apparently. A chatter plays Hydration Check. Cleo knows that Chat is thirsty. They get the eyeball into the jar. The blank wall is still blank and needs attention.

2:02:00 Cleo makes up some paintings just to have something on the wall. They talk with Chat about some of the finer points of Armor Poser. They put paintings on the wall but don’t like most of them. A chatter suggests one of the new 1.21 paintings. Cleo asks Chat if they can point out the slight problem with that. Three paintings make the wall look less blank, then Cleo puts up a desk made of trapdoors as well. Cleo makes armor stand work look very easy. They place some additional bookshelves in the corner, then a few lecterns as well. As they go, they flip back Gem’s trapdoors, acknowledging that this is probably karma for their antics at Beef’s base.

2:10:00 Cleo finishes up the décor and decides to wrap up the stream. They need to sleep and feed the cats. She raids into Tango and ends her stream.

#hermitcraft #stream recap #zombiecleo #pearlescentmoon #geminitay #xisumavoid #every hermit stream is a party these days #and all of them play wordle

26 notes · View notes