#mr. pail

[hee-blee-art]

some busts of ringleaderverse characters

[aclue-aclue]

Blue's Alphabet Book for gameboy color

[zeldahime]

Highway to Pail Day 20

[Day 1] [Prev] [Next] @do-it-with-style-events

February 20: A good magician's assistant is hard to find. They're highly sawed-after.

There were a number of very clever tricks Aziraphale had observed stage magicians do that he rather admired but could not add to his repertoire. Many of the most impressive contraptions and tricks were actually performed by assistants, slender and flexible people who contorted themselves within cabinets and boxes while the magician demonstrated the illusion.

Except one memorable night, Aziraphale's act had always been a solo one, and Crowley had made it quite clear he didn't intend to join him on stage ever again.

Then one week, Mutt had contracted the flu, and he and his spouse Calico were scheduled to perform at a charity event, and Aziraphale was just thrilled to be asked to be, as it were, something of an understudy to poor old Mutt and perform in his stead.

"I'll do the hard parts," Calico had said on the phone, "but I think we should go through the way the cabinets work before we go up."

"Oh, yes, that's a very good plan," Aziraphale agreed. "I wouldn't want to accidentally poke you or stick you through!" As this was a telephone conversation, Aziraphale could not see Calico's grimace, nor their clear expression of "what have I gotten myself into?"

They made arrangements to meet at the local church where the performance was to be held in the afternoon before the event. Before leaving, Aziraphale left a note just in case Crowley decided to come by, letting him know that he was performing and when to expect him back. Otherwise, however, he shoved thoughts of Crowley and the last two times he'd performed magic on stage down, determined that this time would be a success worthy of the Marvelous Mr Fell!

Aziraphale wasn't close to Calico, but had known them from their teenage years, long before they had chosen that name; they were exactly the bookish kind of young person who would wander into Soho looking for a community and then retreat, overwhelmed, into the nearest stack of shelves, and so had been into the bookshop a few times, quickly scared off by Aziraphale's glower before it became clear they were more of a shy child than a potential customer. Aziraphale had been at one of their first drag shows and had blessed their wedding, though he had sat on the groom's side. They weren't close and they had never performed together, but neither were they strangers.

Aziraphale's costume and Mutt's both tended to a slightly Edwardian sensibility, though from very different directions, so his and Calico's costumes did not clash as badly as they might have if Mutt and Calico's act had been more modern. They wore a dress inspired by Victorian circus performers, with a tight bodice and a knee-length ruffled skirt, in a light lavender to both compliment and contrast with Mutt's usual navy-dark attire. When Aziraphale arrived to the church, however, Calico had not yet changed, still in brightly-patterned leggings and a shirt that would not have looked out of place on the cover of one of Crowley's bebop albums, still positioning the cabinets and making sure everything was up to their standards.

"Mr Fell, wonderful," they said when they saw him, suddenly smiles but nevertheless all business. "Here, stand over... yes. I've just finished putting together the crushing illusion—let me show you how it works."

The pair of them talked and demonstrated and practiced for a few hours, going over several tricks that Calico had ready, arranging a set that would show them both to their advantage. Aziraphale's sleight-of-hand and misdirection tricks would lead naturally into the tricks where Calico vanished, and thence into more complicated illusions. All ones where Calico was in control, of course; Aziraphale knew very well they had no way of knowing he would change the laws of physics to keep them safe on that little church stage.

Eventually, it was time to change, then to put on a show. The Marvelous Mr Fell and his daring assistant Calico Jones wowed and amazed the audience with their prestidigitation and jiggery-pokery, their conjuring and illusions! The prestidigitation less than the illusions, it has to be said, but Aziraphale thought the turning of a turnip into an inkwell did set them in the mood for the crushing trick, at least, which was quite the crowd-pleaser. He rather thought their act must have inspired a number of contributions to charity.

When he tried to help Calico pack up, however, they were unusually reticent to accept. "Go out and talk to your partner first," they said, "I think he might be mad at you. He's doing that sexy lean against his car, the one where you can feel him glaring a hole through you even though you can't see his eyes."

Crowley!, Aziraphale thought, then partner?, then oh dear.

"Ah, thank you my dear," Aziraphale said with a perfectly cherubic smile to Calico, "and my best to Mutt, if I don't see you again before you leave." He knew he wouldn't; he was going to be sneered at sarcastically for having done magic in a church, because he was an angel and Crowley was a demon and they must have some standards, then taken out in the Bentley for a pleasure cruise where he would complain about the speed, and ultimately end the night quite drunk on some very nice wine.

And Crowley was going to hear all about his show.

Author's note:

The last three days have been a black hole, productivity-wise, and I had to sink all my energy into my job (ugh) and grad school (double ugh) but I did finally finish this!!!

The crushing trick is this one, which is really neat. I loved how the assistant is in control of the trick the entire time. Warning for some seriously objectifying language in the video though; pretty much the entire video up until they reveal the trick talks about the assistant like she's a sex doll.

Calico is Mutt's unnamed spouse, in case it's not clear enough. They're played by British comedian Andrew O'Neill, who also uses they/them pronouns. I wish we had even one line from them when they're not under the Jane Austen Ball Spell, to get a better idea of their voice, but I think I like where I got with them.

I love how Aziraphale just ditches them to go out on a date with Crowley at the end. I wasn't planning on that! He's just a bit of a dick!

[skeletonpete]

'Tater Skins: Super Impulse Poptaters Offer an Array of Fan Favorites

Hot Mash… Super Impulse, famous for their line of impossibly small replications of iconic toys, games and products, showed off a basket full of their Poptaters at the recent Toy Insider Sweet Suite Event. Poptaters are a mash-up of Hasbro’s Mr. Potato Head, and the world of pop culture personalities. A bit bigger than SI’s usual licensed collectibles, Poptators feature characters from fandoms…

[redeyeflyguy]

Wonderful Things That May or May Not Wonderful!!! For this wonderful post, I have decided to try and list all the uses of a common household bucket. You can hold liquids! You can hold solids! You can make sandcastles! You can wear it as a helmet!  You can use it as a bludgeoning weapon! You can use it as a stool! You can use it as a home for animals! You can eat things out of it! You can drink things out of it! You can draw names out of it! You can use it as a ball! You can enter a serious relationship with it! You put the balls in its top! You can look at it! You can smell it! You can taste it! You can ask it questions! You can team up with it! You can set a fire in it! You can tie a rope to it! You can kick it! You can-

[comicbookfanzevad]

IT CAME FROM AMAZON!

The Incredible Mr. Limpet

Batman The Movie

Shirt Tales

Can't Buy Me Love

Real Genius

Top Secret

Cool World

Return To The Planet Of The Apes

Garbage Pail Kids

[gkp2022]

GPK Fusion - Mr. Boone Wiseman

[barefoot-joker]

Snake in the Garden~Yandere! Lucifer X Reader

Hey, guys! I hope you all are well! Today I bring you a Yandere! Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) story. I do apologize if he's OOC, I tried to make him a bit suave. I hope you enjoy and have a great day/night!

Words: 2105

Warnings: Snakes, Kidnapping, Swearing

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

I hummed as I slipped on my straw hat and sandals. Today was gardening day and I was very excited to be outside. My garden was my passion. It was something to look forward to each day after work. It was especially nice in the eighty degree weather we were having, cool breezes making it bearable to be outside. 

Grabbing my metal bucket with my shears, trowel, and gloves, I made my way out the back door of my house. My neighbor Terry was sitting on his porch rocking in his chair, basking in the sunshine. When he saw me he waved. “Yello, Y/n! Enjoying the day?”

“Of course! How about you Mr. Johnson?”

“Oh you know, just taking a sunbath while the wife is out grocery shopping. If you catch my drift.”

“Perfectly.”

“Well have fun, little lady!”

“Will do, thank you!”

I gave a simple wave and headed towards my small garden. It wasn’t the most spectacular thing, only having five or six rows of vegetables, but I was so proud of my little paradise. I set my bucket down and walked down the row of beans, inspecting each one. My humming continued as I began picking and gently setting the vegetables in my pail. As I was working I heard something hissing. Confused, I looked around and didn’t see anything. I turned back to my work. It was silent for a moment until the hissing continued. I glanced around when suddenly my eyes caught sight of something white in the bushes. I stood up and walked over, pushing the foliage to the side. I gasped when I saw a white snake, its pale pink underbelly had a large gash. I slowly reached down and stroked its back. The snake turned its head, the red eyes staring me down. “Hey there, little fellow. It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt ya.”

As I continued to stroke its back, the snake must have understood my message. “Let’s get you patched up, little guy.”

I gently grabbed a hold and made sure to cradle him close. Walking back inside, I set him in my kitchen sink and went to grab supplies. I made my way to the bathroom where I grabbed some gauze and disinfectant from a cupboard. I then returned back to the kitchen. I lifted my scaly friend to flip him over and started to rub some disinfectant on his gash. I grabbed some paper towel and dabbed it dry. “Almost done, little fellow.”

Ripping off some gauze, I carefully wrapped it around the wound. Tying it off, I sealed it with a kiss from the fingertips. “And, all done! Not my best work, but it’ll do.”

The snake’s tongue flicked out in appreciation. “You know what? I think I’ll name you Red. You know, after your very beautiful red eyes!”

The white snake hissed and slithered closer to the edge of the sink. I picked him up and cuddled him close as we walked back outside. When we made it to my garden I gently let him down before I went back to work. Red stayed the whole time I was outside, slithering alongside me. When it was my time to head inside, I said my goodbyes and watched him slither back into the bushes.

After my run in with Red I would see him every time I entered my garden. I would lay out some greenery for him to eat and some water to drink all the time. He would even wrap himself around my arms as I worked. One day as I was preparing my small table, Red came out of the bushes as per usual. He slithered up my leg and I couldn’t help but giggle. “Red, that tickles! Stop! I have to get this ready!”

He just stayed there. “You silly boy.”

I caressed the top of his head and set up my nice (favorite color) tablecloth. Just as I was placing two mugs down, I heard a male voice call my name. Red slid off my leg and curled down by the table leg. I turned to see my boyfriend s/o standing at my back door. “S/o!”

I ran at him and gave a big hug. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

“Me too. We’ve been planning this little lunch date for a while.”

I led him over to the table and we sat. “I made us some tea. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not, honey. You know I’m down to try anything.”

We both took a sip from our cups. “So, how has your garden been going?”

“Pretty well actually. All of my vegetables have been thriving, which is nice. I even met a new friend!”

“A new friend? Well I’d love to meet them.”

“Hold on one second.”

I leaned under the table and gently picked up my snake buddy. “This is Red. Isn’t he gorgeous? I’ve never seen a snake with a pink underbelly before.”

“Me neither. Can I see him?”

“Of course!”

I started to hand him over when suddenly Red struck forward and sunk his fangs into S/o’s hand. “Ow! God dammit that hurt!”

“Red!”

I set him down and gently took my boyfriend’s hand. “Are you alright?”

“No, your fucking snake bit me!”

I sucked on my teeth. “It does look bad. Here, let’s take you to the clinic.”

We stood up and walked to my car. I had him sit in the passenger seat while I drove.

Hours later I had dropped off S/o at his apartment. We had gotten him some antibiotics and luckily Red wasn’t poisonous. Thank god. I sighed as I slipped off my shoes and walked into my living room. I was looking at the floor when suddenly I let out a gasp. Standing staring at some of the photos on my wall was a short man, his back towards me. From what I could see he wore a big white hat, white and red jacket, white puffy pants and tall black boots. At the sound of me entering, the man turned and I couldn’t help but let out another gasp. The stranger had white skin, short blonde hair and red circles on his cheeks. His red eyes were quite striking as they seemed to stare into my soul. “Ah Y/n, you’re back! Jolly good.”

“W-who are you?”

A black cane with an apple on top magically appeared and the man gave a theatrical bow. “How rude of me. My name is Lucifer dear, but you’re probably more familiar with calling me Red.”

“R-red? But you’re a person and he was a snake…wait a minute. Lucifer? As in the Devil?”

He let out a dark chuckle and I stepped back upon seeing the two rows of sharp teeth. “Exactly!”

I gulped and ran off, trying to head for my front door. I screamed when he appeared in front of me, but this time dressed in green. I bolted towards my back door but he reappeared, this time in red. A few more Lucifers in different colored clothes surrounded me, parting to let the original through. “Look Mr. Satan sir, I didn’t summon you, nobody sacrificed me, nothing like that! Why don’t you just return to Hell and forget this ever happened!”

His cane came up under my chin and lifted my head to look into his eyes. “And forget the lovely lady that helped me? Not a chance! I was lucky I stumbled upon you that day. You see, I had gotten into a fight with a contractor and he got quite a few hits in. I got away with a stomach wound and that’s when I slithered into your life. You patched me up and made me whole!”

His face got closer to mine as he told his tale, our noses almost touching. “You’re so intoxicating, dear. Just like the apple I offered to Eve.”

My breath hitched as his lips got close. “Okay, I helped you. Now why can’t you just go away?”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“Why not? Please, leave me alone.”

A few tears collected in the corners of my eyes and he was quick to wipe them away. “I’ll explain in due time. But I’ve wasted enough time. We need to get going.”

“Going?”

“Yes! You’re coming to Hell with me!”

My eyes widened and I attempted to flee. His arm wrapped around my waist and with the other he waved his cane in the air. Golden dust began to accumulate on the floor, swooshing around and around until a portal formed. The arm around my waist forced me to walk with him. He threw his cane into the air and like magic it disappeared. “Now this may cause a slight headache but I’ll be sure to tend to it when we arrive.”

“No please-”

“In we go!”

He forced us to jump forward and I let out a shriek. I tightly closed my eyes and my stomach lifted into my throat as we fell. This feeling stayed until I landed on something soft. My body was tense as I slowly opened my eyes. It seemed we had landed in a foyer of sorts. The large marble fireplace had a roaring blaze going and from what I could see out the large Victorian windows it was night outside. The dark red clouds swirled like my nerves as I watched Lucifer fluff his jacket. He turned to me and smiled. “I apologize if I frightened you, my dear. It wasn’t my intention. I know first time portal jumping can be quite tedious.”

He adjusted his hat before sitting next to me on the deep red velvet chaise lounge. “Now then I know you skipped lunch since you took your little boy toy to the hospital, so how about some dinner? I can cook a mean steak!”

The situation was starting to be too much to handle and I couldn’t help the sobs that wracked my body. “Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay. Shh, shh. There, there.”

Lucifer wrapped his arms around me in a hug and I could feel his claws combing my hair. “It’s alright, little apple. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

He just made me cry harder. “I just want to go home!”

“This is your home now. I know it’ll take some getting used to, but I promise if you give Hell a chance you’ll forget all about silly Earth and that wretched boyfriend of yours.”

His claws dug in a bit when he brought up S/o. It made me shudder. “But he doesn’t matter anymore. I’m here for you and that’s most important.”

He pulled away slightly to wipe at my eyes, his touch gentle compared to before. “You know what will cheer you up? A nice cup of spiced hot cocoa! I’ll be right back.”

He stood and made his way towards the white door. Before leaving he gave me a smile. “Don’t go anywhere.”

The door shut softly. As soon as he was gone I quickly looked around trying to find an exit. I spotted a door opposite me. I ran to it, threw it open, and rushed out of the room. My legs carried me far as I dashed through the spiraling halls, rushing down a grand staircase, and arriving at what I assumed was the front door. I yanked them open and before I could step out an angry hiss made me pause. Two large golden snakes sat on the doorstep and stared me down harshly. I slammed the door shut and urged myself to breathe slower. “I see you’ve met David and Goliath.”

My head shot up to see Lucifer standing there without his jacket, a faint smirk on his lips. “Why the heck do you have giant snakes on your property?!”

“To protect us. Being the rulers of Hell comes with a target on your back.”

“What do you mean rulers?”

“I brought you here for a reason, Y/n, silly goose!” 

He began walking towards me. “I intend to court you and make you my Queen. I’ve been alone for seven years. My wife and I split and my daughter and I don’t have the best relationship. However, I intend to rectify that, my sweet apple. You and I are going to be together forever.”

He stopped in front of me and held my face in his hands, thumbs gently rubbing my cheekbones. My heart sank as I realized I wasn’t getting out of this any time soon and the look of adoration in Lucifer’s eyes made that fact.

[daughterovmary]

what a fucking time to be alive

[starlight-starwrites]

a real bed

arthur morgan x female reader

summary: You’re tired. Arthur’s been gone. When he leaves you to spend another night alone, he works to make it up to you and show you exactly what you deserve. wc: 3.4k warnings: TB-doesn’t-exist au, some light/non-graphic smut note: HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY @margowritesthings​​! I loved the princess treatment prompt, I hope this is full of the fluff (and smut) you were looking for! thank you to @rdrevents​​​​​ for hosting the valentine gift exchange!

“Carrots are done,” you slide the last of the vegetables into the pot and wipe your hands on your apron.

Pearson grunts, and you accept it as the most you’ll get for a thank you. “Stew is going to be light on the meat again. Where is that man of yours?”

“He’s not…my man.” You don’t look at him when you say it, heat flaring in your face at the words. You know who he refers to, but you and Arthur still felt new. It was no secret, you admit, and after years of pining it was nice to have your affections returned. But as you fill a pail of water for the girls’ washing up, craning your neck to look over the short bridge to Shady Belle, you can see Arthur’s horse is still missing. “I don’t know where he is.”

He’d left yesterday evening after a short visit and even shorter dinner. Things were rough for the gang, but you felt it was always the roughest for Arthur. He surprised you leaving so soon after returning, and when you asked if he wouldn’t stay for the night he only smiled and said you could have the bed to yourself like you would enjoy it. You kept your mouth shut. Kissed him goodbye. Watched him ride away and disappear into the trees.

Pearson calls your attention back. “He hasn’t been hunting much.”

“Arthur’s been hunting as often as he can. He always brings back something,” you snap. You rub at your raw hands, the filled pail pushing the metal handle into your skin.

“Brings back more than most,” Pearson backtracks as soon as he hears your tone. You understand his frustration - hungry people don’t treat the camp cook too kindly - but you won’t let him blame Arthur.

You take a second pail and dip it in the water barrel to fill that one too. “If you need meat, send out Bill. He’s been sitting on his ass all day.” You stare at the man currently sitting at the table sharpening a knife.

“Bill can’t hunt for shit.”

“I can hear you,” Bill looks up with a scowl that might have made you afraid once.

“Then maybe he should practice.” The look you shoot him fixes him to his seat as you storm from both of the men, pail in each hand.

You’re tired of hearing excuses for people. Tired of feeling like only a few are doing the work for everyone. Tired of how the humid heat of Lemoyne dampens your dress with sweat. Tired of wearing boots that have long outworn their use. And tired of hearing Miss Grimshaw’s grating voice from all the way across camp.

The girls seem to catch on your sour mood and don’t say a word as you drop the buckets of water and silently take the wet clothes to the line. You pin up shirts and sheets along side Mary Beth thinking about another lonely night and how you would kill for a chance to sleep in a real bed, tucked in Arthur’s arms.

It’s a nice daydream that carries you through the chore so that by the time you return to the front of the house and see Arthur hitching his horse to the post, your first reaction is elated relief. He spots you first, pace picking up as he approaches. He doesn’t make it before he’s waylaid by Pearson.

“Mr. Morgan! Good to see you. Camp provisions have been looking a little light recently, think you can restock?”

You want to throw something at him.

Arthur barely grunts before he’s ruffling through his satchel. “It ain’t much right now, but…” he pulls out a few cuts of meat. You think maybe rabbit. “Here. See if you can’t do something with this.”

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan! I’ll try and get this in the stew for tonight.”

You stand at Arthur’s side, once again impressed that no matter what, he always has something. You lift a hand to touch his arm when he speaks again.

“See that you do. I’ve got somewhere to be, so you’ll have fewer mouths to feed.”

Pearson’s already off to prepare the rest of dinner, but Arthur’s words strike your heart.

“What? You’re leaving again?”

He watches your hand draw back, your face fall. He nods. “We’re going out into Saint Denis tonight.”

You swallow, look at the ground. Of course. Work never ends. “Who’s goin’ with you?” At least you hope it’s someone you trust. Someone like Hosea, or Charles, or—

“You,” he says, like it was obvious. “We’re going out to the city.”

It’s the second shock of the night. “What? Arthur, I don’t really think I’m up for a job right now. It’s been a long day, and you’ve only just got back—”

His laugh is low, and his hands hold you by your upper arms. “It’s not for a job.” His hands move up and down your arms, comforting and pulling you closer.

“Got an errand to run and then…dinner. I got us a room.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. The dream from earlier suddenly feels possible. You grasp his forearms as he holds you. “A room? With a real bed?” He nods, eyes still smiling down at you. He looks as tired as you feel, and you take hold of his lapels. “Yeah, princess. With a real bed.” His hands slide over your back in an embrace. It eases something in you, the stress of camp, of surviving, of watching him leave. You don’t think about how your feet hurt or how rough your hands are. You think of this, being in Arthur’s arms, that reassuring feeling that no matter how bad things are, he still takes care of you.

You don’t have to think about it, you were ready to go as soon as he said the word ‘room’. You’re glued to his side as he walks you back to his horse, and you let him lift you up to the saddle. A trip to town for a night off sounds like heaven, but there is one thing you’re curious about as Arthur mounts up behind you.

“What exactly is the errand?”

.

You don’t know what you were expecting. Perhaps shopping for supplies, an exchange where Arthur sold some goods. Things that you had seen before. The building looks like a green house, the front filled with gorgeous ferns and flowers. Your eyes are drawn to the ceiling fan above as Arthur ushers you in, the fading sunlight filtering in through the glass casting shadows on figures and hats and frames lining the walls. An ecstatic and slightly accented voice pulls you from your observations.

“Ah, Tacitus! I am so glad to see you. And you, my dear, you must be Mrs. Kilgore, it is an absolute delight to finally meet you!” he takes a breath to lift and kiss your hand. The man barely gives you a moment to open your mouth, already talking a mile a minute. Though Arthur had told you his name is Algernon Wasp and to expect your alias, the eccentric seems so excited he all but forgot to introduce himself.

There is a dress, and it’s a wonder you’re here, and the corset gave him such trouble to make, but he is absolutely thrilled with how it turned out, and how do you like it, but oh, you can’t really say that it’s beautiful if you haven’t tried it on, and he really needs a model to know for certain it’s finished, and yes, yes it has to be you…

In any case, being stuffed into a strange man’s corset by Arthur in the back of green house is not exactly the sort of errand you had expected.

Algernon admits that the dress was not made entirely by him, but he really is the true artist behind it. The corset itself is cream, embroidered with flowers and embellishments in a deep navy blue to match the heavy skirts. He talks from the other side of the curtain while you direct Arthur on how to properly lace the corset. Both of your voices are low, movements slow. His hands linger where they can, and too often you find yourself leaning back into him. You can feel the warmth of his palm despite the layers fabric, and when he finally ties the ends, you hold his hands where they rest on your hips.

You don’t know why you’re here, wearing this dress that is worth more money than you’ve ever owned at once, but if Arthur wanted you here for the silly friend of his who rambled about duchesses, baronesses, and contessas then you would be here, looking like you could fit right in with them.

“How goes it? Please tell me you haven’t torn anything, Tacitus.” Algernon’s voice breaks you from the moment, and Arthur’s hands slide away. You pull back the curtain, taking in the dress once again. “Oh a muse indeed! You are perfect, would you look at that. What do you think?”

“Well, I…it’s gorgeous.” You can hardly take your eyes off it. The bodice has the finest stitching you’ve ever seen, the skirt like silk beneath your fingers. “But what does this have to do with me?”

“Why, it’s yours!”

You shoot a quick glance behind you to catch Arthur’s eye, thinking that perhaps when he had said the man was cracked he wasn’t exaggerating. But Arthur never meets your eye, his own gaze fixed on the clinch of the corset around your waist.

“I’m…not sure I can afford this…”

“Nonsense! Your husband has already covered it. In fact this is my payment for the favors he’s done me. I have never worked without a model before, but when I saw you, I just couldn’t say no!”

“I don’t believe we’ve met before,” you say in confusion.

This time Arthur does meet your eye, and you can see he’s bashful.

“Of course not, my dear! I mean the pictures.”

“Pictures?”

“No, no. You’re right. Pictures hardly do them justice. The drawings, illustrations of pure emotion. I’ve never thought of sketch work to be so…moving. But these! Your husband is quite the artist!”

“Oh, I know,” and you think of what sketches he has of you in that journal of his that he would show this man. In hopes that he would make something for you. Something so fine you fear you may never have an opportunity to wear it again. Algernon is back to rambling about art, but you only hold Arthur’s stare in the mirror.

“Oh, but I know how busy you both must be! Please, don’t let me keep you again. I am no longer sorry to see the garment go when I see just how exquisite you look. Enjoy your evening! As always, it was a pleasure!”

And you find yourselves back outside, slightly stunned on the doorstep.

“Well. I believe I promised you dinner.” Arthur offers you his arm, and you easily lace your own through his.

“I believe you promised me more than dinner. Though I have to say I did not expect the new dress,” you quip. You tug on him a bit as you walk your way to the saloon where Arthur reserved your room and speak sincerely. “Thank you, darling. You didn’t…have to go to such trouble for me.”

“I know trouble. Trust me, this ain’t it.” He drops the teasing for a moment to look at you, and answer just as sincerely. “You look beautiful.” You feel warm, and not from the Saint Denis weather. “Besides, you’re not the only one who’s going to play dress-up.”

You let out a sound of delight. “You still have the suit Josiah picked out?”

“Oh, sure,” Arthur sounds none too pleased, “I still have it.”

“Arthur Morgan,” you sigh, “you really know how to treat a lady.”

.

On your way in to return to your room, you barely had a moment to look around and appreciate the finer details. Now, you lean into Arthur’s side as he speaks to the bartender and take in the establishment. The Bastille Saloon is still a saloon, but the patrons are dressed as finely as you are now, the furniture made of quality. You don’t see broken glass on the floor or scuffs made from idle knives and rowdy brawls. The tables have tablecloths. The piano is a grand one. The couple next to you are speaking French.

“And whatever the lady wants.”

You blink in attention, and turn to face the gentleman behind the bar. He’s wearing a tie. “Oh…I’ll just have whatever you’re having,” you say to Arthur.

You like the way his lips curve into a smile; it’s a crooked thing, and you may have once thought it teasing, but now you notice he’s fond by the crinkle of his eyes, he’s pleased by the way he leans toward you. Your arms hold tighter to the crook of his elbow, shocked at how just a hot bath and fancy clothing can change both your demeanors entirely.

Tonight you really were a distinguished lady, on the arm of the man you love. You never doubted Arthur to be a gentleman, but you still giggle when he pulls out the chair for you. He takes the seat next you, not across, and you scooch closer.

“Are you sure there isn’t some job?” you lean in to ask with a smile. You wouldn’t mind it if there was, so taken up with the dress, with the restaurant, with Arthur.

“No, darlin’, there’s no job.” He takes your subtle accusation in stride, leaning in and setting a gentle hand on your knee. “Why? You want there to be one?”

“No. Just don’t get why you’re doing this, is all.” You don’t want to sound ungrateful. Or suspicious. Your hand covers his under the table, aware of the impropriety, but too happy to care.

His eyes soften and fingers curl around yours. “Because you deserve it. Because you…deserve better.” The words are unspoken, but you know what he’s saying. He believes you deserve better than living with outlaws, than a campsite that moves every few weeks, than an old rickety cot and Pearson’s stew. He believes you deserve better than him.

You shake your head slowly, not looking away from his eyes. “You know what I want.” It’s a whisper, a spoken promise that you feel the same. No, you don’t want to live in a camp of outlaws for the rest of your life. But you’re sticking with him until the both of you can get out. Find what you want. A real bed. A home. A life.

Arthur looks like he’s about to respond when two plates are set down before you, and you gasp. He ordered prime rib with healthy helping of some of the best looking potatoes you’ve ever seen. You don’t think a meal has ever smelled so good in your life.

“Christ alive.”

Arthur laughs at your shocked reaction.

“What? I don’t think I’ve seen a steak this big.”

“You help prepare food with Pearson all the time,” his voice is a drawl, amused and pleased you’re impressed, and he doesn’t hesitate to start cutting into his meal.

“Not like this.” You know you’re staring, but you don’t even know where to start. “Arthur…if you just wanted to get me in bed, you know you don’t have to do all this.” Your words are crass, but you try to keep it to a hush. His treatment of you this afternoon has got you thinking of one thing, and quite frankly, you are very much looking forward to getting him back upstairs.

The way he chokes on his first bite is worth it. “Now I ain’t uhh…You know, well, um.” He gives up to plead with you. “Princess.”

You laugh at his stammering, put your hand on his knee. “Don’t you start. Because you did promise me dinner, and I intend on absolutely polishing off everything, and I expect you to do the same. And then, and only then, am I going to drag you upstairs and make very good use of that bed. No matter how many princesses, sweethearts, or darlings you use.”

And maybe the two of you are sitting too close that you keep bumping elbows, and no matter how finely you dress you still don’t quite fit in with the upper class, but you’ve never shared a finer meal someone.

And you’ve never seen Arthur eat so fast.

.

When Arthur took you to the room upon arrival in Saint Denis, the first thing you did was flop to the bed. It was large and well made with thick blankets and would fit two people comfortably.

Now that you finished dinner and are retiring for the night, you don’t even make it there. Your back is pressed to the closed door, Arthur’s mouth covering yours before pressing hot kisses down your neck, across your chest, and over the tops of your breasts pushed up by the corset. You tug mercilessly at the suit jacket he wears, only feeling slightly bad before he lets it drop to the floor.

You can feel the grip of his large hands through the material of the dress - one holding tight to the thigh you hiked to his side, the other roaming over your body before finding its place to cradle your head. Directing your mouth to his then away so he can place more kisses under your jaw. With every certain touch, with every meaningful place of his lips, your heart swells. He whispers every name he’s given you between each kiss, and you find yourself sighing out his, unable to say the words to ask for what you really want.

He has treated you so well all day, and you knew, you knew you would end up here at the end of it, in his arms and in his heart. You were ready to do whatever he wanted. Instead he takes hold of you and gives you everything you want without you having to say a word.

His hands find their way under your skirt, fingertips trailing sparks over your new stockings and to where the corset ends. Every single thing today has been a gift from him, and this here too is another. You can’t keep up, but you’ll let him take, you’ll let him give, you’ll let him have it all.

His bare chest is hot under you palms, your own breasts pulled from the confines of the corset just as you make it to the bed. It’s where you wanted to be all day, and it lives up to every hopeful wish. Arthur handles you, moves you were he wants, and even still it feels like he serves you.

His kisses are like the warm glow of a fire—you chase the feeling, chase his lips, and he gives into every whine from you. You reward him with your moans. He travels the map of your body and disappears under your skirts. His hands and mouth never part from you, and you scramble to take hold of yourself, take hold of him, take hold of the sheets beneath you.

Neither of you say it often, but you both know. Tonight, I love you is said with every touch of his skin to yours. I love you with every kiss. I love you as he wraps you around him. I love you as your hands come to cradle his head.

You pant heavily, still partially confined in your clothing, and as soon as Arthur’s lips return to yours, the frantic grabbing for one another’s affection subsides. He’s steady and reassuring, both of you content to sink into each other until you can’t be any closer. Your kisses turn slow and sultry. His shoulders shudder in your embrace, his hips solid between your legs.

It’s you and him and this bed and the way he calls you mine. It’s rare these moments you get with him, and you soak it up, relish in the way he lets himself love you. In return, you let yourself dream of the future in which you and Arthur share a life, a home, and a real bed.

[itsmeatballworld]

| to the night sky |

pairing | daryl dixon x f!reader

summary | It’s autumn in Virginia so Daryl invites Reader to spend a night cuddling under the stars.

wc | 857

warnings | kisses, autumn time in Virginia, and soft boyfriend!daryl... so nah, no warnings <3

a/n | note this has some spoilers for season 9 but nothing crazy. Also posted on my ao3!!

His eyes were so bright. Bluer than the sky. Bluer than the sea.

You’ll remember that ‘til the day you die.

You tore your gaze away for a second, just to glance up at the tiny twinkling lights above.

His callous hand latched onto yours as the hearth outside flickered in and out. “Should get some rest,” Daryl whispered.

“We should.” Your fingers twirled across his rough palm. “But look… damn, look at those stars. They’re beautiful. You gotta look. The clouds are gonna block them.”

Daryl smiled, his eyes never leaving your face as you watched the sky. “Yeah. Beautiful.”

“You didn’t even peek,” you murmured as his hands snuck around to caress your round hips.

“I did too.” His tone was playful as a smirk etched across his lips.

Tonight, the sky was black and painted in tiny twinkling lights. Dark and looming from the east, thick grey clouds slowly began to shadow the moonlight cascading through the trees.

You were somewhere in Virginia between a dried up creek and spacious woods. Location never mattered anymore. You were living—surviving—and enjoying the brief moments of peace left for the breathing.

Colors of cinnamon, brick red, and yellow as bright as corn litter the ground in piles. It was the fleeting beauty of Autumn, until the heavy rains and mud blur the colors in a dark, murky haze.

Atop the little hill was your makeshift campsite. Daryl tugged and tied each layer down as tight as possible. The lopsided tent with a worn clear-plastic sheet roof showed the sky. An old pail near the zipped-up entrance used as Dog’s water bowl. Wool and cotton blankets dragged from Alexandria covered the thin tent floor. The dying light of a small fire pit was nearly out after hours of ignoring its plea for more firewood. Daryl wanted to keep you safe when visiting. Less light, less problems, he’d murmur.

Tonight, you were snuggled up to Daryl. His arm around your waist, pressing your chest to his in a tight embrace. He loved holding your warm body close, trailing his hands up and down your hips and thighs, as if you were his lifeline.

Tonight was perfect. A peaceful autumn night alone with your lover.

“Aye.” He drops his voice. “You should head back in the mornin’. Safer in the sunlight.”

Back. Back to the group. Back to your home in Alexandria. Back to safety and walls.

“Sure,” you mumbled.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you liked being outside the walls of safety. You liked the wondrous and dangerous world surrounding you. Life was precious but you never wanted to waste time living in a bubble. “Come with me?”

Daryl paused, his fingers drawing light circles into your skin. It might not have been words, but you knew his answer. No. He had a job to do. Look for Rick.

You sighed, resting your head into the crook of his neck. “Alright… but if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” Breathing in deeply you tried to bury the smell of him in your memory. He smelled like homemade soap and tobacco.

“Carol stopped by, huh?”

The stoic man let out a soft chuckle. “You can tell?”

“Soap… a new haircut… blankets without holes? I’d say she prepped you with the good stuff for this weekend.” Those blue eyes were glued on you. His fingers trailed your side until he dug in a bit deeper. He hugged your curves into his body like he never wanted this to end.

“Mmhm.” Daryl smiled. “Good stuff.”

Your hands slipped up his chest, digging your fingers into the cotton tee. “Hole-less blankets,” you giggled. “Gosh, Mr. Dixon, you know just how to please a girl.”

He grumbled as he tugged the waist of your pants down an inch. “Anythin’ for my girl.”

That deep, raspy voice scratched an itch deep in your soul. “Your girl, huh?” Your lips pressed into his as those rough hands wound underneath your clothes.

He grumbled a response as he continued to kiss you deeply. Every morsel of your being tingled and buzzed with excitement to be near him. To be so close to him.

Maybe it was the forced time spent together, but Daryl Dixon is someone you never thought you’d get after the world stopped moving forward. You never thought you’d have a man who loves you so deeply. Who pines for you. Who finds you funny—and genuinely laughs at your jokes. Some days he doesn’t talk much but hugs you from behind and kisses the crook of your neck. It was love. Pure, endless love.

He pulled back from your lips. The hazy look of exhaustion mixed with lust washed over him. “C’mon, I mean it. Get some sleep.”

“How can I when you kiss me like that?” You smiled as those blue eyes lingered on your swollen kiss-stained lips.

Daryl grunted. He pecked the edge of your smile before pulling you into a tight cuddle. “Sleep.”

You closed your eyes.

The night sky was beautiful but all you could think about were those bright blue eyes.

><<>><

><<>><

a/n 2.0 | ily *mwah* and ily daryl dixon

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

sorry but i think i lost your plot has to be peak literature because it's one of the only thing ive ever read from start to last update in under an hour

Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot pt 14

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 2,163

You get caught up in some hobbying.

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse, crafting, bead making

<Previous - Next>

Your relationship with the older vikings, men and women alike, as their sometimes delivery girl, sometimes shepard -though that was much less of a harrowing job now that the dragons were cool, and you were afforded the privilege of spend a lot less time hiding and running- sometimes portable laundromat and shiphand, afforded you certain knowledge that other people sometimes weren’t privy to, though Berk was an open floor for gossip.

Like how the twins were always looking down because their helmets were too shallow to balance themselves on their heads, which had the consequence of making it seem as if they were always up to something. Which, coincidentally, they were- Their mother complained about them a lot in between mentions of her husband and fawning over Stoick.

You learned how to cook some from Mrs. Ingerman, and you’d taught her a few words from your time period, which was nice. 

You’d had to do Snotlout's laundry and clean his room on more than one occasion, even had to pull it out of his basement room more than once, which you were thoroughly disgusted by. You’d learned a lot more about the guy from that experience than you’d ever wanted and had refused to take any of the Jorgensons’ laundry from then onward.

You’d even done things for Hiccup and for the Chief, mostly things he was unaccustomed to doing as he was too busy acting as the leader of the village and things Hiccup missed because he was too busy doing whatever he did out with the riders. You were sure Hiccup’d had no idea just the same as Snotlout. 

There were a few things you were certain to never bring up, including but not limited to a hastily drawn but very detailed sketch of your face shoved in a notebook tossed under his bed, not particularly helpful in terms of putting to rest the whole crush thing, or the small pail of screws he was sure to have brought back from the forge without his father’s blessing.

You were in denial a little bit, yeah. 

You should probably tell him. About the whole being in his room thing. But you wouldn’t. Definitely not.

It seemed, though, that despite this extra eye into the working world of Berk, you’d still ended up missing a few things.

Berk was… A community. You weren’t sure how you never realized that.

The Great Hall was filled with warm laughter, people patting each other on the back, men and women sharing stories about their kids and, often enough for you to take notice, Hiccup. It looked like raising him was a group effort.

Off in the corner were others at a table by shallow baskets which were shaped like oblong gold pans filled with fine powder and shells, men and women sitting along the side sorting dragon scales and grinding them down with flat stones and clearly chiseled pestels.

Dragons squealed and bobbed around your periphery, tossing and picking up what must’ve been colorful, neutral stones.

Large men and women and children hunched over the tables all over the hall, rearranged so that they were all closer to each other, parallel as they whittled away at things you couldn’t completely see, tables lined with leaves and the occasional plate.

It was well lit.

People filled the halls between tables with joyful conversation, playfully batted at each other and sat back. The whole space was bustling and also relaxing, somehow.

In the background was Ack arguing with some blonde woman, but even that was nice. You could tell he didn’t mean it and neither did she, shooting back just barely inaudible jabs with each other.

You were mindful of the basket in your arms full up with his laundry, just recently cleaned and aired out. 

You had stopped in your tracks at the sight, standing just before a short table placed perpendicular to the rest as if the lady sitting there was the guard to some booth or other. 

You looked down finally, noticing how she looked at you nearly eye level with a raised brow. She had plenty of wrinkles on her forehead, which told a lot about a life made by concern and stoicism. She also wore a large, very off white apron over a grayish vaguely beige long sleeve short and a long brown skirt, which you only just barely caught sight of as she lifted it up to wipe down something in her hand.

She had a shallow basket in front of her filled with what looked like beads and various strings, needles and small carving knives with wood shavings laid on the cloth-covered table around her.

“Hi,” You said, breaking the wall between the two of you. 

“...Hello, dear,” She responded, after a while, settling down her skirt and placing a colorful bead back into her basket. He picked up a needle instead, which you saw was already attached to a long string with beads all down the length. 

You wondered where they’d gotten the dye for it. Could dye even be used on glass? Was it glass?

Instead of asking those questions, you shuffled your feet.

You glanced at a white sleeve flopped over the side of the basket, which you held by a bar on the other side and pressed into your hip, “What’s going on?”

“Crafting is going on,” She said, plainly.

You nodded, “I like it.”

It wasn’t an uncommon sight to see Vikings wandering around Berk, trying their hand at leatherworking and carving and other things. Now that they had the time, being assaulted a lot less by Dragons, the Berkians indulged their more artistic inclinations, exercising muscles for skills they’d never been able to before.

“I mean, this is great. What started it?” You asked.

You wanted to join in. It might be nice.

“Oh, you haven’t seen? The pride of Berk, walking around with his little bead like a bird,” She chortled fondly, “Did you see it? I wonder who gave it to him? Lucky girl. He has, dare I say it, started a trend.”

A bird? You quirked your lips up at what was most certainly an exaggeration. You hadn’t seen anything like that. You failed to mention that you’re the one who made it.

You wondered if Hiccup knew about any of this at all. You didn’t. 

“How do you know it was a girl?”

You turned. The spoken voice belonged to one of the women you’d see before in the Hall. She came over, done fussing with Ack in the background.

She was also blonde, a brighter, more yellow shade with a few less gray hairs. And she was large, also, with broad shoulders and a strong presence. Her arms were the largest between them. 

She wore tight trousers and a large though not long tunic. Her boots were plain leather and looked to be of the pirate variety. 

You pondered the idea that they might be related, or at least good friends.

“Look at him!” The first lady put down her needle, resting it in her shallow basket again, a glass bead falling down the string as she did, gesturing with her hand, though there was no Hiccup in sight, “He’s so happy! So proud! The small thing. He’s got too much energy for his little bones to handle.”

You thought he might be offended if he heard her say that.

“Oh, don’t be delusional,” The one with big arms huffed, “And don’t let him hear you say that.”

“But I’m right!”

“You’re wrong! He’s no myth, sweetheart. You can’t go around treating him like one of your little stories,” She shook her head, crossing her arms. 

“The Ragnar is real!” She insisted, staring down the Ack lady, meeting her eyes until the other woman rolled her own. You could tell it was a disagreement as old as time itself, but like with the other woman’s squabble with Ack, there was no malice in it, “Beowulf, too.”

They were just putting on a show.

You felt your lips stretch wider. It felt good to be a part of, even as a witness.

“Well, anyways, I’ve been thinking of making it a regular thing. You know, putting it on a schedule. Craft nights…”

You nodded excitedly, “It’s very modern.”

“Do you think so?” She asked, pleased.

“You don’t think we’ll have better things to be doing?”

“Our ancestors used to do it, can’t see why we can’t.”

“Really?” You asked.

“Oh, yes. Read a passage about it once, saw a note or something like in one of the dragon books. Glass beadmaking,” She looked up wistfully, pausing briefly in her rhythmic sewing, “I always wanted to try it… But we had no forge, no beads, no time, then, either. I was just a little girl. But now…!”

She picked something small but shiny out of the basket in her lap, ooh-ing to herself.

You were on the outside, kind of, though not on purpose. Everyone was welcoming enough, though they were much too busy fighting with the dragons to notice much or throw a party or anything. You were never excluded but you always had better things to do, too, so, well.

But this was here, and it seemed convenient. 

“Dear, come sit down,” She squealed slyly, voice both quick and dragging, face gleeful, which seemed out of place on her wide, bult frame and stern face.

“Okay,” You said, beaming.

You stuck mostly to the woodworking bead types. 

The image of glass beads shattering midair was frightening, though you were sure that none of the dragons around here could reach those speeds. Flying that fast might be dangerous for people too.

Most of your beads were probably going back to Hiccup anyways.

Of course, you had your own handful of small colorful semi-porcelain.

You tried a bunch of colors of all different types, and ended up with a handful of each. It was cool, to the super-so degree, and it was free. It seemed good will did a lot, and community bonding exercises were meant to be just that and nothing else. There was a line of Vikings, adults and children alike, ready to do their own part and bring things in anyhow. 

Many Vikings used ground up dragonhide to dye and waterproof beads and to mix in with melted glass in order to give it a pretty stain.

It was interesting, especially now that many Vikings were using Dragons in place of a kiln, and how they’d set up small buildings with bricks and some coal and used those too.

It was disastrous, at some moments. There were many burns, mostly small, that people went up to Gothi for, saying their goodbyes in bummed tones. 

Gothi must have had enough of it because she came down eventually to manage the glassmakers and smack the unfortunate.

It was… nice. 

The afternoon light was surprisingly nice on your face. It felt a lot nicer and your chest felt lighter, the world awash with things bright and endearing.

You looked forward with a winning smile at Hiccup.

“You liked the one I gave you, right?” You held out a handful of blue glass and wood beads to Hiccup, “They’re doing craft days in the Hall. I made some.”

You had a bunch of others in pouches around your belt.

You didn’t have anywhere to put them besides. You had no dragon to ride, so in time you might favor the glass ones. You had trouble with a few of them. The dragonhide did a great deal to make the glass more sticky when it heated up.

“You’re going to see a lot more people around with beads on.”

There were not enough leaves and pouches for all your sorted beads so they were sort of mixed, but you got a hold of a good few before it was time to clean up and you fled before anyone could notice. The hall would still be active for a while.

“You started a trend, I think,” You said, matter-of-factly.

It was impressive. Trends usually fell to the Chief, who recently had been trying to approach you though he always got carried away by tasks before he could. 

Hiccup had a sort of goofy smile on his face which consisted of a slightly upturned lip and the framing of his two largest front teeth which dropped as, as it looked like, he snapped back into himself, “What?”

“Yeah,” You said after you finished unloading the rest of his pouches into his arms and turned to walk away.

You looked around as you fled, making sure no one was watching.

He looked down like he wasn’t sure what to do with all of them, and also a little bit put off.

You wondered if you overdid it.

A small weight shifted by your ankle as you walked, the coins you’d slipped into a side pocket in your boot. You were going to ask around for some seeds.

[aclue-aclue]

"Steve and Blue had such a good time together, that Steve wanted Blue to stay"

Blue's First Holiday is 22 Years Old Today!

"But Steve wanted Blue to stay

It remains one of the best cartoon origin stories idc.

[oneforthemunny]

janitor!eddie munson x reader blurb

eddie au where he starts working at hawkins elementary as a janitor. steve is a fourth grade teacher there and gets him the job, something with benefits and better hours than selling weed and working at the plant.

eddie's nervous being in a school. he graduated a few years before and vowed to never go back. it was no secret he'd been severely mistreated in his school days, but steve assured him they were elementary school kids- they wouldn't care.

he finds its a pretty easy job. sweep the halls, scrub the desks from any doodles, change the trash. the worst part is when a kid throws up, but that's not as common as he thought. as it would turn out, elementary school kids are pretty clean and tidy- he supposes it's the age.

they're also pretty sweet. always high-fiving 'mr.munson' in the hallways, and cheering when he'd come in to fix the pencil sharpener. it's the first job eddie has that he looks forward to. especially, when he gets to see you everyday.

steve introduced you two, in the teacher's lounge. eddie was sitting at a table with him, lunch pail with a ham sandwich he'd thrown together that morning. you'd waltzed in, sunshiney and smiley, chatting with another teacher. he'd noticed your skirt, how bright it was, bright and pink, hitting your calves at a respectful length. it made you look so cheery, happy, instantly brightening the space you walked into.

"y/n," steve called, waving at you when you grabbed your lunch bag out of the fridge. eddie's breath caught, feeling like the sandwich doubled in size ever bite he took. you grinned warmly, excusing yourself from the other teachers and walking over to steve.

"hi, steve." you greeted, taking a seat at the round table between the two of them.

"y/n, this is eddie. he just started her as the new custodian." steve said.

eddie wanted to roll his eyes, and give his usual response, "custodian. pssh, quit fancying' it up on my behalf, harrington, I'm a janitor."  but he couldn't. not when you looked over at him, eyes lit up and smiling.

"oh, it's so nice to meet you." you laughed, introducing yourself. eddie wiped his hands on his navy coveralls- the school had insisted he wear- clammy hands shaking yours.

"we're hallmates." steve teased, joining you in a laugh.

"we teach fourth grade. mr. harrington does math and science, and I do language arts and history." you said with a smile so wide eddie couldn't help but match yours.

eddie wanted to reply, but his head was swimming, blushing so furiously he was sure it was rising up his neck. "so, are you from hawkins too?" you asked, looking at eddie.

he nodded, clearing his throat gently. "y-yeah. I went here actually... back in the day. it-it's been a while ago, obviously, you knew that." eddie rambled, running a hand down his face.

you smiled, steve giving eddie a knowing smirk over her shoulder, making eddie blush even more. "a-are you from here? I haven't ever seen you around, but ya know, that doesn't mean anything. I mean, you could've been homeschooled, right? we're you homeschooled?" eddie stammered, mind whirring and buzzing. he couldn't stop rambling, spilling out the words as he looked at you.

you shook you head. "no, I wasn't homeschooled, and I'm not from here." you smiled, and eddie swore he saw you blush a little.

the next few weeks, you two talked in friendly conversation. you always greeted him with a cheery and bright 'hello!'. when he'd get your trash during your planning period, you would chat with him, asking about his weekend. he liked that you didn't fake conversation or ignore him like some of the other teachers did- the one's who remembered the outcasted munson boy from his time there as a child.

it wasn't until one day after school, eddie was pushing his cleaning cart, making his rounds through the classrooms, that he saw you. "hey, eddie?" you called, poking your head out of the classroom.

eddie was surprised you were still here. school had been out for a while, all the other teachers and staff had gone home.

"could I get your help, please?" you asked, biting your lower lip. eddie's heart pounded. "if you're not busy."

eddie pushed his cart to the side, making his way down the hallway to you. he liked that your door was always decorated, pictures that your student's had drawn surrounding your name and room number, colorful and inviting on the usual dull, wooden door.

"surprised you're still here." eddie grinned.

you laughed, shrugging softly. "yeah, well, I've been doing this," you pushed the door open, revealing the classroom.

eddie's eyes bulged, your room looked like a red and pink bomb had gone off in it. paper mache hearts, painted cupid's from the 60's, construction paper links of red and pink draping each of the student's desk.

"wow," eddie said, looking around him.

you smiled sheepishly. "I've been a little busy, can you tell?" you giggled.

eddie gaped, fingers trailing over the lace doilies around the hearts. "you, uh, you like valentine's day, huh?" he asked.

you shrugged. "it's alright. I'm sure it better when you have someone to share it with." eddie's head whipped around, shocked. no way you were single.

"I just like to go big like this for holidays, all holidays. it makes the kids happy, especially in the cold months. they always get kinda sluggish and sad, so if I can do this to make them happy, then I will." you said simply.

eddie smiled. "your kids are real lucky to have you." he said. "I woulda killed for a teacher like you. I had teachers like mrs. burns." he shuddered. you cringed slightly. that pre-historic woman was still teaching. eddie had thought he was being haunted when he first saw her this year.

"I- thank you." you said, blushing, hiding your smile. "I had a teacher once, ms. mccason, and she really inspired me to be a teacher. she was always so fun, and exciting, made me actually want to come to school." you gushed. eddie watched you, carefully, happily. he liked seeing you like this.

"she would decorate like this, and- oh!" you turned, grabbing some of your decorations. "that's why I needed help, actually. she would always hang the decorations from the ceiling, and I thought that was the coolest thing, and I wanted to do that, but I can't exactly reach to put the cupid's up." you said, looking at eddie hopefully.

eddie nodded, pulling out a chair, stepping carefully onto it with his heavy work boots before pushing up on the ceiling tile. you handed him one by one, chatting with him as you went. about school, how he met steve, what you liked to do outside of school, even eddie's band.

"I play at the hideout, sometimes." eddie said, hanging the last one before stepping down. "uh, you should come sometime."

your eyes lit up. "yeah?" you asked.

eddie nodded, cheeks flaming. "yeah. I-i mean, if you want to." he blushed. "we play every tuesday. sometimes we get the thursday or friday spot. just depends if tony's being a dick or not." he muttered and you giggled.

"yeah, I'd love to come sometime." you smiled, swaying slightly, hands clasped in front of you.

"cool." eddie grinned. "I'd love to see you there."

you had gone, the next tuesday. steve joined you with his friend robin and dustin, two mutual friends of eddie as well. the three of you made up most of the crowd, but eddie didn't mind. he was just happy you'd showed up.

the two of you stayed crowded in a booth, even after everyone else left, sharing beers and giggly stories. you didn’t care that it was a school night, too caught up in eddie. he kissed you when he walked you to your car that night, boozy and blushy, stammering apologies and wide eyed when he pulled away.

you grinned, pressing a kiss to his cheek. on friday, you had your valentine’s day party. students hyper on exchanged candies, little cards tucked away in their handmade boxes.

you stayed late, pulling down decorations before the weekend, perking up when you heard eddie’s cart squeak and wheel down the hallway.

“need any help?” eddie asked, leaning in the doorway.

he helped you pull down each decoration, sharing heart shaped suckers and conversation hearts that were left in your own valentine’s day box.

“oh,” you said, spinning around, and opening the top drawer of your desk. “I almost forgot.”

you handed a small, red envelope over to him. your pretty writing scrawled on the top.

‘to: eddie’ with a small heart besides his name.

he’d blushed, laughing when he opened it. a cartoon guitar with flames and hearts that read, ‘you rock, valentine!’ in obnoxiously large font. beneath it, you’d scribbled a little note.

‘thanks for the best night out. you do rock. wondering if you’re free saturday?’ your number in the following lines.

eddie looked up wide eyed at you. you winked, blushing towards him. “if you want to go out again.” you shrugged. “I’d love to spend valentine’s day with you. maybe go to the movies? or the bowling alley?”

eddie nodded, blabbering yes while blushing so hard he was sure his cheeks would melt right onto the ground.

you waited for him to lock up, walking you to your car. he promised to call the next morning, and he did. when he showed up at your little town house, he greeted you with a dozen red roses, his blushing cheeks matching them.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of Both worlds (part 22)

Part 23

Tw: Monty being a creepy lil shit, mans can't take no for an answer, short chaprer

Tell me what y'all think of the series so far i loce reading the comments and anon asks plpplsplps thanks

"(name)-" Yves's eyes were blank when you hung up. He slowly puts his phone down on his desk. He starts disassembling it, pulling the battery out and carelessly tossing it to the side of his laptop. You're not going to call him again.

He drummed his perfectly manicured fingers onto the table. Yves sighed heavily as he massaged his forehead. He extended his hand to grab a luxury bottle out from a metal pail of frosty ice.

He uncorked it and poured his champagne flute full of alcohol. It was filled to the brim, but Yves is skilled enough to pick it up without spilling a drop.

He walked up to the massive, crystal-clear window that allowed him to see the skyline and the city from a bird's eye view. The sky is dark but devoid of clouds. It's picturesque, but its beauty means nothing to Yves now. You aren't here to appreciate it with him and neither will you appreciate it from the pictures he sent.

He stared past his reflection as he sipped on his drink.

In his vast, lavish hotel room, he is the only occupant within it. Yves doesn't see the need to switch all the lights on. Just enough to see, but it made his room rather dim and ominous.

He continued staring out into the distance wordlessly and unblinkingly as he drank from the special glassware.

Silence envelopes him like the deep ocean. He wished that it also engulfed his mind. But alas, a man can only pray to receive such mercy.

__

The three of you laughed at a joke Evangeline said. She seems to be quite the comedian, her brain spins fast to think of witty sayings and comparisons.

The rain somehow worsened since, stuck in traffic and with nothing to do, you, Evangeline and her father resorted to singing along to songs, albeit off key with cracking voices.

Perhaps Mr. Jones was having a bit too much fun. So much so that he didn't pay attention to the road ahead of him.

You and Evangeline were forcefully jerked forward upon impact of the front to the bumper of someone's car.

Mr. Jones gloved hands were gripping tightly on the steering wheel and his hat is not on his greying head.

He turned to check on his daughter and his client.

"Is everyone okay?" He asked. Evangeline nodded and you did so too. You felt a bit sore where the seatbelt wrapped around your body, but otherwise, you're unharmed.

"Oh no... I hit someone..." Whined Mr. Jones. "I hope they're alright." His voice has much more guilt than fear or annoyance. He quickly pressed the emergency button with the triangles to signal the surrounding cars to move around him.

Among the downpour, you heard a car door slam shut. Followed by incessant knocking on the window at the driver's seat.

Mr. Jones gulped as he rolled down his window.

"Hey, what the fuck!? You just hit me!

"I am so sorry, Sir--"

"It'll cost me an arm and a leg to repair it, my paycheck isn't going to be ready until next week! I can't drive around without my bumper- look! The entire thing is gone!" The stranger with a sickeningly familiar voice but unfamiliar accent ranted at the older male.

"I-I'll give you my details. My deepest apologies sir, I will cover all the damage incurred. I am so sorry for this." Stammered Mr. Jones. He rushed to pull out a pen and a notepad.

"Yeah, you better! Today cannot get any worse." He grumbled to himself. He's standing under the rain, getting more and more drenched by the minute.

The man stuck his head into the car to avoid the pouring rain. But immediately snapped his neck to the back seat.

You and Evangeline had blood drained out of your faces. Montgomery's eyes lit up so bright that you thought he was actually illuminating the car.

"Hi Darlin'! Fancy meetin' you here!" His southern accent returned. You gave him an awkward wave.

"And yer friend too! Hello! Thanks for givin' my sweetheart their lunch." You looked to your friend, she has the most natural and confident smile on her face.

"Glad I could help, Sir."

"What are ya doin' in a fancy car like this?" Montgomery turned to you. "And where are y'all goin'?"

You struggled to answer. You don't know what to do.

It's times like these you wish Yves is here.

"We are going to my house for a little playdate." Evangeline answered for you.

You let out a discrete sigh of relief. But then you considered the possibility of him tailing you three. Your muscles started to tense up again.

"Well, ain't that fun. I'm goin' to the mechanic to get my car fixed 'cause of him!" Montgomery replied with a snark. Mr. Jones apologized once again as he handed Montgomery a piece of paper with his details on it.

"I'm sorry, Sir Montgomery. It was our fault, we were distracting dad and caused him to hit you." You appreciate that she is keeping his attention off you.

"Your daddy, eh?" He looked around the well-kept interior of the car. "Must be nice to be this rich." He narrowed his eyes at her.

"I wouldn't say we are rich. We definitely are comfortable though. I'm grateful to have such privileges and stabilities!" She beamed, you don't know if she's ignoring Montgomery's obvious spite towards her financial status or she's oblivious to it.

Montgomery visibly rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to you. "(Name), baby!" He addressed you in a sing-song voice.

"Why haven't ya' called? And, I missed ya' to death. Where were ya'? I hope you ain't skippin' school." You stammered and stuttered, you squirm under discomfort. You don't want to be around him any longer.

"Sir Montgomery, I suggest heading to the mechanic soon if you want to make it before it closes." Mr. Jones scribbled on something. "Here. Please accept this." He handed Montgomery a cheque. His eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Thank you." He stored the cheque somewhere that it wouldn't get too wet.

"As for ya, my sweetheart. What time will ya' be going home? I'll give ya' a lift back." He now stared at you, not caring that droplets of rain dripped down from his eyelashes and into the car.

Evangeline hooked her arms around yours. "They will be staying over. Isn't that right, (name)?"

His facial expression darkened. Montgomery did not like how she was touchy with his partner.

You meekly agreed.

"Well damn. Gimme your number then, sweetheart, I'll call ya."

Since you have two witnesses and you are in a car, you straight up told him no. You said that you're not comfortable with him contacting you and you never agreed to be in a relationship with him.

You thought that would be enough to either send him to a fit of rage or quit.

But instead, he rolled his eyes and huffed. Pretending that this is just a trivial matter.

"Can you cut the hard-to-get act just this once? It's rainin' cats and dogs out here, I wouldn't chase you any less if ya' handed me your phone number. In fact, I'd pursue ya even more!"

Horrified, you looked to Evangeline.

"Sir. (Name) is serious. They're not comfortable with you, they're not in a relationship with you. Please stop, you're being a creep!" She defended you.

"Shut yer' trap! You don't know squat about our love!"

"Don't speak to my daughter like that!" Mr. Jones finally came to her aid.

"What the- You should smack some sense into her! Talking to people like that--"

You interrupted the argument telling him that you are not giving him your phone number or any other information about yourself.

He threw his hands up in the air in exasperation and gave up for the time being.

"Fine. You ain't wanna give it to me? I'll find out my damn self, I'll prove how devoted I am to ya'." He grinned and winked at you. Which made you want to vomit.

Evangeline is baffled how Montgomery isn't taking anything except his car bumper seriously. He's barely angry that you humiliatingly rejected him in front of two people, but instead sees it as a couple's game. Just mildly annoyed that you're making him work for your basic information, but otherwise determined and playful about it.

"Mark my words, I will win this challenge and take my prize!" He declared to you. "Have fun at your tea party with goldilocks over there. I'll see you tomorrow, honey."

Montgomery waved and then returned back to his car. The brake lights lit up before he sped off to the nearest mechanic.

You began hyperventilating, which led Mr. Jones to hand you a brown paper bag. Evangeline tried to console you by putting your hair and squeezing your hand.

Why do these things always happen to you?

[bookshelf-dust]

the ones in red are always the prettiest.

gareth emerson x fem!henderson!reader.

word count: 4,215

warnings: swearing, pining, mentions of smoking, eddie playing matchmaker, the sweetest most disgustingly adorable fluff

a/n: i’m kind of in love with this, which doesn’t happen often. it felt easy to write too, if that makes sense. i hope you like it as much as i do!! <333

————

You don’t have friends. At least not really. Not anymore. You keep to yourself: go to class, study as best as you can, try and take care of yourself sometimes even. But you have got Dustin.

Dustin may be three years younger than you, but he’s remains your best friend. You tell him everything, and he knows you better than anyone. He is your one confidant.

Yeah, there may be some things that you don’t tell him, but he sort of knows, in a way. He’s always been smart as a whip. Like how lonely you are. How hard things can get. But he notices. Notices when you shy away from him, sink into yourself.

Yet he’s always there. Always. So when he started high school with you—his beginning, your ending—and found the Hellfire Club, it was like a dream come true. He’d found more kids like him to nerd out with, not that he didn’t nerd out with you, because he did. But he’d found his people. His own little group. And you were over the moon for him.

But that did take him away from you a bit. What with the initiations at the beginning of the year, new members and whatnot, the numerous and lengthy campaigns, Dustin simply making friends and having fun, you just didn’t see him as much. Didn’t have as much time to talk to him. But you were okay with that, because he was so happy.

————

Dustin was sitting at the Hellfire table, today sandwiched between Eddie and Lucas. You’d packed him a lunch this morning when you packed yours, because he’d said he was staying after school for a club meeting, and you wanted to make sure he had enough food, what with how late they could sometimes run.

The cafeteria food wasn’t always the best, and if he was going to be there extra long, he needed some snacks. Seeing Gareth and Mike sit down with trays full of whatever that was supposed to be, he was grateful for your gesture. Dustin dug around for the cookie he wanted, and snagged it, realizing you’d accidentally thrown two in there. So of course, being himself, he wanted to give it to you.

Dustin’s head shot up from where he’d been looking down, his eyes locating you sat at the table he’d been taken away from at the beginning of the year. Your neck was bent, nose buried in a book, and you were occasionally picking through your lunch pail. She needs this cookie, Dustin thought to himself. He hopped up, not thinking anything of it, ignoring the “Where’s he going?” and “Hey! You almost knocked my drink over!” that followed his change in seating.

You resisted the urge to flip your shit over the way Mr. Darcy was treating Elizabeth at the moment. Not that it was necessary, seeing as you'd read the book more than was healthy. Your page flipped with the gust of air that followed Dustin's aggressive flop as he sat down on the bench across from you. "How's Fitzwilliam today?"

"Prickish," you told him. "As al--" "As always," Dustin interrupted and finished for you. You grinned at him, closing the book, but keeping your thumb in to mark the page. "Need something, Dusty?"

He held out the cookie with both hands, bowing his head. "For you, my liege."

"Why, thank you kind sir." Dustin giggled at you, always willing to indulge him, and held his hand out for a high-five, which you reciprocated, before he scrambled back to his table.

"What was that all about?" Eddie inquired, shoving the last of a half-assed turkey sandwich in his mouth, wiping the crumbs on his knees before remembering that was where the holes in the denim were, making him steal Gareth's napkin. Gareth flipped him the bird.

"Just being a kind sibling. Figured she could use a nice gesture." Dustin adjusted the hat on his head. "I don't see how the two of you are related," Gareth started, "She's so quiet, and you're so—"

"Enthusiastic," Eddie finished.

"She's always been shy, but I think the quiet thing came after she got to high school."

"How's that?" Gareth popped the tab on his Dr. Pepper. "She had a pretty tight friend group in middle school, but they sort of grew apart. They got boyfriends, became cheerleaders, clones of one another. She didn't. She likes to read and doesn't give a shit about being popular—that's how we're related—and so I think the more independent she's become has made her eternally quiet. But she's kind of like us, actually, like when she gets excited about something. She's quite the nerd." Eddie smiled genuinely at Dustin, admiring the way he spoke about you, since most people didn't talk about their siblings like that. Mike certainly didn't.

Gareth glanced at you from where you finished off a bag of Ruffles, tipping the dregs into your mouth. Yeah, you were definitely related to Dustin. You dug around in your bookbag, pulling a red flannel on over your t-shirt. It was the same red as Gareth's vest. He pretended like that didn't affect him and went back to the Goldfish he'd gotten from the vending machine.

————

Dustin futzed with his hair in his bedroom mirror while you adjusted his makeshift 'X' belt buckle. He then tugged his hoodie down down, tucking the front into his yellow sweats to display the black emblem. "Here." You handed him his costume glasses.

You'd even sprayed a little blue in his hair for effect. He was the best Hank McCoy you'd ever seen. Dustin and his friend group had decided to go as assorted X-Men this Halloween, and the two of you had worked very hard on his costume. He'd begged you to join in, and you couldn't say no to him, so here you were with a huge white streak of hair on your head, attempting to be your very best Rogue.

You'd made your hair as big and curly as possible, and even spent a little extra on your temporary white hairspray so that it would last, a black headband pushed up your forehead to top it off. Your yellow top was tucked into green corduroy's, which matched the green bomber jacket you'd found at the thrift store. You'd dug out some worn in yellow converse, and Dustin had helped you make 'X' patches for your jacket and shirt.

Lucas and Max were supposed to be Scott and Jean, with Mike having chosen Sean Cassidy. You'd heard he'd been slaving over his Banshee 'wings.'

Some might think that all of you were too old for trick-or-treating, but none of you gave a shit. The plan was to hit the rich neighborhoods, traumatize tiny children, and then you were driving the group to Jeff's house for a Halloween party. Eddie had warned that if you didn't show up in costume, you weren't allowed in.

With a successful haul, you pulled into the driveway, nervous. "Are you sure it's okay for me to be here?" You looked at your brother in the passenger seat.

"Are you kidding? They invited you! They think it's cool that my sister likes Halloween as much as they do. You're gonna be great!" He smiled at you, adding an aggressive thumbs up for encouragement.

————

"Holy shit! You guys look great!" Jeff shouted as he opened the door, ushering all of you in. Jeff was covered in various makeshift nuts and bolts and stitches, opting for a very well albeit lazily crafted Frankenstein. When Eddie appeared, he was draped in a red and green sweater, and turning his cheek, he had some fake scar wax adorning the skin of his cheek. Although his knife fingers were only on his left hand as he waved at the lot of you. "Ladies first," he drawled.

"Thanks, Fred." You wandered into the kitchen in search of a drink as Dustin and his friends mingled. You didn't want to be the obnoxious older sister tonight, especially since he'd invited you to hang out with him and his friends.

You poured your drink, and were digging in the candy bowl when a voice interrupted you. "Wow, things must've really downhill with Xavier if Rogue is hangin' out with us." You looked up to find Gareth grinning at you.

You snorted. "I'm just here for the candy. Hank doesn't like to share." You let your eyes wander over his Dracula costume. His curls were extra defined tonight, and he'd clearly had the same idea as you, with a good bit of black spray weaved in with his natural brown. He was wearing all black under his cape, the red of the underside a stark contrast. Just looking at his cape, you could tell it was well-made and probably expensive. Given the boy, this probably wasn't the first time he'd used it.

He had rings on almost every finger, a dangly stake-like object hanging from one ear. But his fangs were the best part. They weren’t the plastic ones you bend and shove in your mouth, or comically oversized canines. They were small attachments on either of his own teeth, and were just big and sharp enough to be convincing. Honestly, he looked hot. You'd let him suck your blood.

Gareth laughed in response. It was hearty and sweet, and you hadn’t heard nearly enough of it. “Well, I like the costume. Looks good on you.” Oh shit. You were blushing now, weren’t you? You totally were.

“Thanks. I like yours too. The cape is very nice.” You popped a Dum-Dum into your mouth, and Gareth almost choked on his drink watching it move around in your mouth.

“Really? I’m glad you said so because I spent way too much money on it. I’ve been Dracula for the past like, four years, so I decided to at least make it look like I tried.”

“Well I think it’s very cute. It suits you,” you told him, popping candy in your pockets for later.

“Would you like to play a game? I think someone’s setting up Monopoly and you can see Eddie get mad when he loses.” Gareth grinned at you.

“Sure. I’d like that a lot.” He held out his hand, which you took, trying not to think about how nice the calluses felt against your skin, and lead you down to the basement, which you realized was where everyone else had gone off to.

————

The Monopoly game ended up being much shorter than intended because Eddie got pissed that he was broke ten minutes in and flipped the board with a “I hate this shit!” and laugh.

You were now playing Guess-Who? with Gareth, Max sitting beside you and Dustin sitting beside him, both of whom were finding great joy in the shitty descriptions either of you offered—you trying to make them as vague as possible.

“Do they have red hair?” Gareth asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe more of a chestnut.” You grinned at him and he slapped his hand to his forehead.

“You’re an asshole,” he told you, smiling whilst he did so.

“Yes, they have red hair Mr. Emerson.” You watched him flick down a couple of panels, eyes lingering on his fingers for probably too long. You heard a cough, and turned your head to see Max smirking at you, and then you were blushing again. “Fuck off,” you whispered to her. She shook her head at you.

It was your turn again. “Hmm. Is it Andrew?” You looked up from your board at Gareth, who was already looking at you. He had a look of betrayal on his face. “Yes, Y/N. It’s fucking Andrew.” You clapped your hands in triumph, sitting up on your knees to give Max a high-five.

“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?” He flicked down all of the panels on both of your boards, putting them back in the box. “‘S not my fault you suck at this game.” He scoffed playfully at you.

“What do I win?” You inquired.

“What do you think? Jack shit.” You rolled your eyes and pulled a 3 Musketeers out of your pocket and tossed it at Dustin. He caught it, thanking you, and then he and Max went off elsewhere.

“I don’t get any candy?”

“Get your own, Emerson.”

“No, I don’t think I will. What’ve you got in there, huh?” You stood, trying to fend off the candy thief.

“Nothing. I ate it all.” You continued to back up as he stood. Nothing about this was serious, though, considering the shit-eating grins on either of your faces.

He was on you in a second, gently pushing you onto the couch, tickling your sides to coerce your hands from your pockets. It worked, and you raised your hands in surrender, ready to give up your candy stash to him. He tickled you for just a minute longer, realizing he’d never heard you laugh like this before, realizing how much he liked it.

He gave up, searching your pockets, pulling free a handful of Kit-Kats and peanut butter cups. “Thanks, princess.” He tickled your side again and planted a kiss on your forehead before plopping down beside you and throwing a leg over yours.

Across the room, Eddie looked at Jeff. “You seein’ this?” Jeff nodded.

“I think our boy’s in deep,” Eddie told him, snubbing out his cigarette.

————

You pulled into the Hawkins High parking lot driving around to park outside of the doors where Dustin usually came out. You pressed the light on above your head so you could see your book, considering Dustin was always late no matter what time he told you to pick him up. A little while later, you heard the doors open, but didn’t look up, knowing he’d find his ride eventually.

Turns out, that was everyone else leaving. Gareth and Dustin had stayed to clean up, and when they finally got outside Dustin followed Gareth to his car so he could pick up some extra dice from him.

Gareth hopped in the driver’s seat, leaning over to open the glove box, but he decided to turn the car on first and let it warm up. And nothing. It wouldn’t start. Dustin asked him if it was something or other, but Gareth stopped him. “No, man. I know exactly what it is. The fuckin’ battery has been on its last leg forever. I guess tonight it decided to depart for good.” Gareth mumbled a “Shit,” under his breath as he grabbed the dice, but when he turned around, Dustin was gone.

The thud of hands on the window startled you and made you jump. Dustin yanked the door open. “Gareth’s car won’t start! You’re the only one left. Think we can give him a ride home?” By that point, the boy in question had made his way over looking for Dustin.

“Dude! Don’t just offer that up to her! She’s probably got shit to do.” He stopped in front of the two of you. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to. I can call Eddie or my mom or something.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s totally fine. I’m right here and there’s no reason for you to do that. I can take you home.”

“You sure?” You told him you were, and told Dustin he had to sit in the back, ignoring his protests.

It really wasn’t a problem, he only lived a little past you and Dustin, and it didn’t bother you to drive an extra five minutes. Not for him. You were about halfway there when Dustin exclaimed, “That son of a bitch! Piece of shit!” from the backseat.

“What?” You asked, confused, but used to his antics.

“We have to stop at Mike’s. He’s got my folder! The one with all the character sheets! I think my math homework is in there too. Can we please? It’s on the way!” It wasn’t. You’d have to take a detour.

Eventually, you stopped the car outside of the Wheeler’s, Dustin hopping out and barreling towards the door, leaving you and Gareth alone in the car. You’d never been properly alone with him before.

When you turned your head to look at him, he was already looking at you. He really had to stop doing that. You grinned at him and he grinned right back, eyes creasing, cheeks reddening.

“Okay, I’m gonna tell you this now before he gets back. You’re so pretty. So pretty. I’ve been thinkin’ about you since Halloween.” He started messing with the rips in his jeans, obviously nervous.

“You think that? That’s really sweet. I think you’re pretty too, Gareth.” His head jerked up to you.

“You think I’m pretty?” You nodded at him.

“Prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.” He leaned over the center console and smacked a sweet and noisy kiss on your forehead, then another on your cheek.

“Sorry. You deserved that.” You burst out laughing, finding it hard to believe he could feel this way about you, but deciding to welcome it anyhow.

The two of you just looked at each other for a few minutes, and he went to say something, just as Dustin burst back into the car. “Alright! Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

————

Dustin was eating lunch a few days later when Eddie asked him, “Why don’t you invite your sister to sit with us? She hangs around enough, feels weird to have her sit alone.” He was kinda confused at the offer, even though it made sense. Dustin just guessed maybe you liked being alone during lunch, that you wouldn’t be able to concentrate on your book with them. But he took Eddie up on the offer, pattering over to you and presenting the situation at hand.

“Dustin, I’m not going to do that and interrupt you and your friends. You don’t need me in your life like that.” He quirked a brow, realizing that you thought he didn’t want you around like that.

“What? Come on, Y/N. I want you to sit with me and my friends. Let’s go. You can bring Mr. Bingley with you and everything.” He picked up your lunch box and book for you, leading the way.

When you made it to the designated Hellfire table, Eddie pulled out the seat between him and Gareth, bending at the waist. “M’lady.” You snorted and thanked him. Dustin set your lunch down in front of you and then your copy of Pride and Prejudice, fondly patting the cover, before plopping down across from you.

Eddie smirked at himself for getting you over here, having specifically chosen your seat. He was determined to help his boy out.

“What are we reading?” Eddie asked, leaning over to read the cover. He hummed in interest, but you were positive he was just humoring you. “Would you recommend it?” You laughed.

“Only if you’re willing to explore a period romance. But you might like it, you never know.” He grinned at you, smile lines appearing around his mouth. Eddie Munson was too charming for his own good.

“It’s actually pretty good,” the voice to your right said.

You turned to look at Gareth. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Gare, but why do you know that?” He laughed.

“My sister is fond of a bedtime story and wanted me to read it to her. But when I started she had all these questions and I couldn’t answer them, so we put it on pause and then I read it so she could have the full experience.” He shook his hands for emphasis. That was so sweet you felt like you could throw up.

“What?” He was looking at you and you were looking right back, but you realized you must’ve looked how you felt: practically fucking in love.

You straightened. “Nothing. That’s just kind of lovely?” His knee bumped yours under the table, his cheeks getting increasingly more rosy by the minute. You felt like reaching out and brushing your thumb along the spattering of freckles on his nose.

“Okay, now I’m feeling left out. Would you lend it to me?” Eddie asked you, feeling properly scandalized.

“Sure, Edward. You can have it in a few days. I’m almost done anyways, but I’ve read it a hundred times. If there are crumbs in the pages, no there aren’t.”

“I don’t mind. My copy of The Hobbit is missing half of the back cover.”

For the remainder of lunch, you gladly put Jane aside to indulge the boys in all their queries addressing the so-called interests you shared with Dustin.

“Daredevil? Really?” Gareth and you had started to slip into your own conversation, the rest of them arguing over some minuscule campaign detail.

“Yeah, you don’t like him?” You finished off a bag of grapes, offering Gareth your last two.

“No, no I do! Just guess I figured you’d like Captain America or Iron Man. Didn’t have you pegged as a sucker for vigilantes.”

“Oh, I do like Cap and Iron Man. Very much so. I guess I just like the color red.” You looked down at your hands, trying not to make eye contact with him following your attempt at a flirty comment.

Your nail picking was interrupted as Gareth’s hand slipped into yours. You’d been thinking about the warmth of his palm against your own since Halloween. The way his fingers rubbed over your knuckles. How reassuring it was to be in his grasp. You looked up at his gesture. “Is that so?” He squeezed your hand, moving your clasped fingers to rest on his thigh.

“Yeah. The ones in red are always the prettiest.”

————

The noise carrying down the hall was predictable, but starting to annoy you still. You were almost finished with your English essay, but you couldn’t concentrate. Not with the loud voice of the dungeon master or dice clattering or Dustin’s ear-piercing shrieks. You didn’t want to be a dick, but you were going to have to sneak out of your room.

You opened the door, following the sound. You took in the party and all it’s glory as you weaved around the table that had been put up in the living room. They were all too immersed in the game to notice you anyhow. You made it into the kitchen, opening the cabinet and reaching up to grab medicine for the headache you now had. You’d just downed the pills when you glanced over at the table again and met Gareth’s eyes. “You okay?” He mouthed.

You tapped your head in response, finishing the last of the water in your cup before setting it in the sink. You didn’t miss the way his eyes traveled down your bare legs as you escaped back to your room.

Safely back in your place of refuge, you grabbed your keys and slipped on shoes, deciding that maybe a milkshake would help you concentrate on the rest of your homework.

You made it down the hall again, walking to the door. Your hand was on the knob when a voice said, “Where do you think you’re going? You’re supposed to be babysitting me.”

You turned around to face Dustin, everyone’s eyes on you. “None of your business, dusty bun. There are plenty of people to babysit you here anyways.” You flipped him the bird when he rolled his eyes and hurried out the door.

Sitting in your room, milkshake—which you’d snuck back into the house—almost finished, there was a knock at the door. You knew it wasn’t Dustin because he’d never knocked a day in his life—only ever shouting before busting through an entrance. “Yeah?”

The door gently pushed open, and you saw his curls before you saw the rest of Gareth. “Am I interrupting?” You nodded your head. “Yeah, but it’s okay.”

You’d finished your essay and were now doing homework for your science class before you called it a night. Gareth wandered into your room, closing the door behind him. He leaned against the desk next to you. “Need something?”

“Just wanted to see if your head was okay. I know we get loud.” You laughed at him.

“It’s better now. Besides, I’m used to it. Just couldn’t concentrate.” His eyes met your milkshake cup, and he was suddenly aghast.

He looked at you, feigning betrayal, “You snuck out to get a milkshake? I’m hurt.” Shit, his eyes were so pretty. Too pretty.

“You contributed to the headache, Gare. You want to try some? There’s a little left.”

“Sure.” He said. You took another sip and then offered it to him, but he shook his head. “Not like that.”

And then he was leaning down to meet you, fingers lifting your chin. Gareth planted his lips on yours, grinning, obviously proud of himself. His lips were softer than you expected, assuming they’d be a bit like his hands, but either way they were gone much too fast.

“Pretty damn good milkshake.” You knew you were beet red, but you didn’t care. You stood, putting your hands on his cheeks and kissing him again, smiling the whole time. When you pulled away, you ran your thumb along the freckles on his nose, like you’d been wanting to.

“That’s what I was thinking too.”

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