#now i got that damn nursery rhyme in my head. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

munsonsreputation · 2 years

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Sweet Nothing

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: [9.6K] I did my best to proof read

warnings: warnings: no use of y/n, established relationship, cursing, reader opens up about jealousy, steve's parents being absolutely horrible (what's new?), overall just a bunch of tooth-rotting fluffiness.

summary: when you're gifted a keyboard, you and steve sit and write a sappy love song together about your relationship--all the good, bad, and ugly, but through everything just wanting each others sweet nothings.

“Steve!” you wailed, smacking the keys of the piano with frustration as the notes rung through your shared bedroom until they withered and he made his way through the door with a towel draped around his shoulders and sweatpants hanging onto his hips.

He laughed, following you hurl yourself against the wooden floor where you once sat and now grumbled dramatically. Walking over to you and kneeling down, he smoothed your hair away from your face so that he could see the pout and stress clouding your eyes, “What’s the matter, baby?”

“It’s impossible! This instrument has it out for me or something!” You glared back at the black and white keyboard like your mortal enemy as Steve snorted, hand coming out to coddle your skull and squeeze your shoulder reassuringly.

“Didn’t Eddie say he was gonna teach you next weekend?” He rose his brows, throwing his towel off to the side, where you would pick it up later and scold him later for not hanging to dry properly.

But right now you were biting your lip guiltily, “Forgive me for being impatient…I just want to play and write a song.”

He raised his brows curiously, lips in a placid thin line, “A song, huh?”

“You heard that right.”

“About what?” He requested, and you blushed, hiding your cheek against your shoulder, gawking up at him with blown out heart eyes, “About us?”

“Us?” He pestered, fingers gripping your chin gently to stop you from hiding your endearing embarrassment.

You enclosed your palms around his wrists, shaking your head, “Stop, you’re going to make fun of me!”

“Am not, baby—I think it’s quite sweet, actually…lemme help you write it?”

“You’d really do that with me? You don’t think it’s corny?” You bit your lip, and he grinned, tilting his head with a tsk, “I never said it wasn’t corny, but it damn sure is sweet and I want to be apart of it too.”

You scoffed jokingly, flipping him off with both hands before he cackled vehemently, pointing at your keyboard, “C’mon, show me what you’ve got so far.”

“Fine, but don’t judge me.” You warned, pointing at him and he gave you a soothing nod, sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce beside you while your fingers slowly played the notes, humming along to give your boyfriend an idea of what you had so far.

When you finished, you glanced up at him, fingers slowly pulling away from the keys, “So? What do you think?”

“It sounds so peaceful.” He smiled, placing a hand over yours now resting in your lap.

“Really?” Your voice dripping with surprise, “It’s not too nursery rhyme like?”

Steve shook his head, squeezing your hand in affirmation as he rubbed his thumb across your knuckles, “Kinda reminds me of a lullaby—the melody is so sweet and soft.”

You grinned, bringing his hands up to your lips, placing three kisses among his skin, before you let it drift down to your thighs where it laid. Your fingers, going back to the keys to repeat the arrangements with some silly lyrics you thought of off the top of your head.

“I spy with my little tired eye, tiny as a firefly, a pebble that we picked up last July.”

That little pebble. It was real. It used to sit prettily on Steve’s shelf, next to a framed polaroid of you and him, back when you two visited a local fair in Chicago last summer. There were vendors of all sorts, and one that especially caught your eye was a woman selling traditional Irish baked goods, among miniature knick knacks. She was a pure middle-aged lady who let you and Steve sample fresh breads and pastries.

While Steve was busy learning about the baked treats, making sure none of them had ingredients you were allergic to, you made your way to the miscellaneous items. Fingers floating over intricately decorated vases and shiny four-leaf clover ash trays, pausing to take pictures for your scrapbook. And then you saw the small pile of pebbles. Different colors, sizes, and shapes.

“I picked these from a pond in Wicklow.” The lady smiled warmly as she and Steve made their way over to you on the other side of the table.

You looked up, piqued with interest, “Is there any meaning behind the rocks?”

Steve’s fingers gently rummaged through the mass, picking up a few to inspect them with a closer eye as the woman began to explain the history of the pebble toss. A Celtic wedding tradition that is said to bring in well wishes and happy hopes for the couple.

“Pick one, baby.” Steve murmured into your ear, dangling his arm over your shoulders as you looked up at him through your lashes with eyes saturated with adoration.

“Together?” You proposed, and he nodded with a sure smile, the two of you combing through the pebbles as the woman watched on with joy.

The two of you settled on the tiny one. It was light tan hue with faint streaks of pink across it. And it was almost in the shape of a heart.

Perfect for you and Steve.

As the woman packaged up your baked sweets, Steve snapped a silly polaroid of you, kissing the tiny stone you held between your fingers before the lady spoke, “I could take a photo of you two if you’d like.”

“Please.” Steve responded thankfully, removing the camera strap from his neck and passing it to the lady.

You took your place in front of Steve with your back of your head pressed against his chest, leaning into his warmth gratefully. And he settled his chin on top of your head, moving both arms to sling across your collarbones. The two of you smiling merrily as you held up the pebble to be seen clearly.

With a click of the button, your photo was printed and the small bag of goods was placed in Steve's arms. You two offered the kind lady a warm smile and one last thank you as she bowed her head and said, “All the best, lovebirds.”

He was transported back to that memory the second the lyrics trickled off your tongue like the sweetest honey he’d ever tasted. For the longest time, you had thought that you had misplaced the small treasure after heading back home and not finding it in your luggage.

But of course, one day when you and Steve were out on a date, you had asked him if he had any gum on him. When he reached inside his classic khaki pockets, there he felt the small stone against his fingertips and there he brought it out. Presenting you with the precious little thing sitting in his palm.

You gasped dramatically, as if Steve had pulled out a diamond ring. But this was even better. Throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him into the biggest hug, then the tenderest kiss.

“Down deep inside my pocket, we almost forgot it. Does it ever miss Wicklow sometimes?”

You looked in wonder as Steve’s skillful fingers were able to replicate the notes you were playing just now with no prior experience. You must have been thinking Steve was suppressing away his musical talents from you all this time, but in actuality Steve was just really observant. Especially when it came to everything that you did and enjoyed.

He had been watching your fingers glide over the keys, recalling when to press down and change positions as you did. And he did so while singing the verses that were a response to the previous ones that were yours.

“You’re a goddamn prodigy, babe.” You whispered, shaking your head with astonishment while Steve smiled, wriggling his shoulders carelessly.

“Did you like that verse?” He asked, and you bumped your head eagerly, sitting up on your knees to reach for the notebook and pen that you had thrown aside out of irritation earlier that night, but here you were fully invested in this little song you and Steve were writing together.

Steve followed you, eyebrows and forehead pushed up as the pen freely traveled across the lined paper with ease. Blessing the pages with ink that conveyed the collective thoughts of you and the love of your life. When your eyes eventually flickered up toward his, he blinked, finally coming back from the rapture you had him irrevocably trapped in.

“Do you want to play while I write?” You suggested, already getting comfy as you brought your knees up and rested the notebook on your legs with the pen spinning in your fingers.

He nodded, rubbing his hands together, “I’d love to, baby.”

“What are you thinking about in the next verse?” You proposed, tuning in to Steve play around with different keys, trying to find what would flow the best in his mind.

He started off with your original chords, moving his fingers slightly to change the melody swiftly.

“Maybe we should go into the chorus after that part.” he answered, totally just suggesting it, but you trusted him.

You always did.

“Yeah,” you grinned, scooting closer to him just because you wanted to.

“How about this…”

He leaned over a tad bit to get a better view of the lyrics you had written just moments ago. His voice was calm, singing them to you with his digits moved methodically, and then he changed and sung some new lyrics that had come to him.

“They said the end is coming. Everyone’s up to something. I find myself running home to your sweet nothings.”

Steve remembered when the gates had reopened. His own safety should have been this first thing that came to mind. But it was you. He’d never in his life had he sped through the streets of Hawkins, like he did that day. Mostly because you’d remind him every day before you two would part ways to, “Drive safely, I need you here.”

But today, he needed to make it to you, quick. He zoomed through the roads with his friends screeching their heads off, urging for him to slow down. But you were the only thought in his mind.

This truly felt like the end of the world. Everything in this town that they once called home was crumbling and falling apart in front of their eyes. People who had no idea that there was an alternate dimension living beneath them, were calling it an earthquake, but it was far worse than anything they could’ve imagined.

When Steve had confessed to you everything that he knew about the Upside Down, he had fully expected you to flee this godforsaken town and leave him behind, because let’s be honest. Who wouldn’t?

Yet you stuck around. You listened to him open up about all the demons he fought off and the trauma they created. You asked questions about that place. A lot of questions. After all, you’d never been in there, and Steve would never allow you to be.

He answered each and every single one of your curious speculations about the other side. And when he didn’t have the answer for you, he’d ask his friends, hoping they would provide him with a better explanation so that you could understand.

And you did. It definitely wasn’t easy at first, wrapping your head around the fact that there was something supernaturally haunted lingering in this town. And the first time Steve had ever brought it up, you had thought he was playing some sort of joke on you. But with just the look on his face and the manner of his voice, you could recognize that this was real.

He would never lie to you about something so complex like this. He was searching for something.

To be heard. To be believed. To be comforted. And you provided all of that and more.

That day he was desperate for it. Wanting nothing more than to enclose his arms around you and hear you murmur the soft words of solace that made him feel like everything was going to be ok, even if tomorrow or the next day after that wasn’t promised at all.

When he finally saw your house come into view through the smoke and rubble, he practically skirted into your driveway, thrusting the car into park as he hopped out, leaving Robin to deal with putting the emergency brake up and removing the key from the ignition.

He frantically dug his fingers into his pocket, searching for the spare key you had made a copy of, just for him. Quickly, he unlocked the door, not even bothering to see if your parents were around as he entered the home, shouting your name, thinking he would need to search every room and inch of the house to find you.

But there you stood, back facing him, not too long before you had turned around, hearing his voice echoing against the walls.

“Outside, they’re push and shoving. I’m in the kitchen humming. All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing.”

He rushed to you. Burying his face into the crook of your neck, nearly lifting you off the ground as he hugged you tight. Tighter than he ever had before. You could feel the tears smearing down his cheek and tumbling onto your skin where he broke down.

“S’ok…I’m safe. You’re safe. I’m right here, baby.” You murmured, tugging him into you just as urgently with your hands on the back of his neck and the other rubbing soothing circles onto his back.

He didn’t pull away. Not for another minute, and when he did, he didn’t let you leave his arms. Only allowing enough space between the both of you for him to clearly see your face and kiss your lips as if it was the last time he’d ever get to do something so simple.

“A-are you ok?” He ordered, holding your face in his hands, scanning every inch of your uncovered skin like you were the one outside caught in the crosshairs of the gates opening.

You shook your head, reaching out to brush his cheek, “I…I knew what was going on as soon as I heard the news.”

He turned to look behind him. The TV set in your living room was on but muted. There was live coverage in all areas in which the gates had opened. The red lines crossing boundaries and tearing neighborhoods apart were the only thing caught on cameras.

Then his ears finally caught onto the tune playing over the radio you had situated on top of the kitchen table. It wasn’t too loud or too quiet. But just enough for you to mask the sounds of the hysteria transpiring around you. He had recognized the song. One of which was on a cassette that he had made specifically for you.

Just because he was puzzled to see if he was right. One of his arms fell away from you, reaching over slightly to pop open the slot and there was the bright blue cassette. The one he had made for you, loaded with nothing but mushy love songs that reminded him of you and vice versa. It was surreal…you had known that this terrifying thing was back and yet you were here as calm as ever…or at least trying to be for his sake.

And you had been humming before Steve had barged in. He finally picked up on that.

“I knew you’d come to me,” Your voice took him away again, drawing his eyes to meet yours that were brimming with tears, “You told me that if anything like this were to happen again, that you’d come for me.”

It was true. And it wasn’t like Steve was actively thinking about that promise he had made you a couple of months ago. He just did what felt right. And that was coming home to you.

“I did.” Steve whispered, the realization dawning on him that this was all he ever wanted and all he ever wanted to know.

It was you. Coming home to you. Being here with you. Through thick and thin. Through the calm and the storm. The ups and downs.

He wanted it to be with you.

“I never knew you would make such a talented songwriter, babe.” You commended Steve, relaxing your head on his shoulder while you recorded the lyrics that you two had just chirped.

It was like you and Steve were talking to each other in the song. Recounting the purest and scariest moments in your relationship and somehow making it sound like the most tranquil lullaby known to the human existence. Sure, most babies would definitely prefer to listen to a voice sing them to sleep by talking about twinkling little stars or their papa buying them a mocking bird.

But this was you and Steve’s song. The most meaningful lullaby that would hopefully put your future kids to sleep.

“Me?” Steve accused, gesturing to himself as you laughed inwardly, shaking your head against him, “I’m pretty sure you could get a record deal for your beautiful voice and your song writing skills.”

You blushed madly, seeking to hide the rose color on your cheeks by pressing your face into his shoulder, but that only made his heart strings pull tighter in his chest. He bounced you off jokingly, craving to see you in all your embarrassingly flattered glory.

“I’m dead serious,” Steve declared, leaning down towards you to rest his forehead against yours as you closed your eyes, brushing your nose against his.

“I have an idea for the next verse.” You added softly onto his lips, kissing him several times, before you finally built up the strength to pull away from your idea of paradise.

He patted the small of your back, kissing you once more, almost making you want to forget about the whole song and take him to bed, but this was so pleasant and you wanted to finish this for the both of you.

You took a deep breath, nodding your head as he peered up at you, silently asking if you were ready for him to start playing. And so he did.

“On the way home, I wrote a poem. You say, “What a mind.” This happens all the time.”

You all had your ways of dealing with the trauma that came after the gates had finally closed. Talking to Steve was always your preferred choice of dealing with all of it. He was like your personal form of therapy. Nothing was ever too heavy for him to take. He’d listen to you every night, detailing the fear that you felt when he went into that place for the last time to assist Eleven and his friends in defeating the monster.

When he had come back through the portal, you were a mess waiting for him. He was covered in an ungodly amount of blood and yuck, but you had no care in the world. Instantly running into his arms and sobbing as you told him you loved him over and over and over again.

For Steve, he could handle all the physical injuries he endured. It wasn’t anything new to him, considering the fact that he had experienced this before. At least for him, he had friends he could talk to and relate to when it came to this sort of thing.

But for him to watch you beat yourself up over what had happened….

That was more painful than any bite one of those nasty bats had inflicted on him.

Eventually, Steve had suggested another way for you to cope, and that was through reading. It was mostly so that you could distract yourself from the horrible memories of watching Steve shout in pain as doctors and nurses tried to tend to his wounds followed by the excruciating weeks of recovery where you could do nothing but kiss and whisper sweet words to make him feel better.

But surprisingly enough, the world of reading and the library became another safe space for you to travel to whenever you needed to remind yourself that the worst was over and you could finally relax. You had recommended the same to Robin and Nancy, who too were dealing with the lasting effects of the Upside Down in different ways.

That’s how your little bookclub came to be and Steve was more than happy to support you through it every step of the way. He’d sit and listen to you talk for hours about the recent book you picked up just that morning and managed to get halfway through by the end of the day. He’d accompany you to the library, helping you search through the endless shelves of novels for something interesting when it was your turn to pick that month’s group read.

Sometimes he’d even sit in during the sessions. Most times though, it was an excuse, just so he could listen to your read aloud, becoming so captivated by the way you were able to tell a story, then taken off his feet when you all would discuss and you would bring up some of the most minuscule yet crucial points with so much passion.

This month was Nancy’s choice, and she had picked, “Love Poems & Sonnets of William Shakespeare.” It was beautifully complex, many words and phrases that were not usually used anymore, which allowed room for great conversations and different conceptualizations between the three of you girls.

“Whatcha writing?” Steve glanced over at you sitting the passenger seat of his car where your eyes had been glued to the notebook on your lap, constantly erasing, then rewriting.

You groaned, turning to him, “Attempting a poem…I feel inspired by what I read, but I just can’t seem to think of anything.”

He hummed, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as he continued en route to his house, trying to think of a way to solve the small crisis you were facing on this Friday night.

“Why don’t I give you a topic and let’s see what you come up with in two minutes? That way, you don’t overthink so hard.”

Steve was great at recognizing both your verbal and nonverbal cues, especially when it came to you being flustered by stress. Most times, you’d stare at whatever was giving you a hard time for way too long. Or you’d get annoyed like you did just seconds ago, sighing thickly and muttering to yourself as you erased and rewrote.

“Okay, that sounds fair.” You agreed, relaxing your dominant hand where your pencil was held.

Steve smirked, turning to you as he saw you calm down. “Why don’t you write about the stars?”

“How original of you, Mr. Harrington.” You joke, as he allowed his right hand to leave the wheel for only a few seconds, just to poke you in your side and hear that infectious giggle erupt from your chest.

“C’mon, two minutes, pretty girl.” He spoke, checking the time on his dash as you had finally begun writing.

If he could sit here and watch you with his undivided attention, he would. But you were precious cargo that needed to get home in one piece, and he was responsible for that. There would be many nights where he could watch you in your own world, reading or writing something that was probably totally incomprehensible to him, but it was you doing it, so he would find it in himself to understand.

“Done!” You cheered happily, abandoning your notebook and pencil in your lap when you achieved you goal.

Steve whistled impressively. “You had twenty-five seconds left.”

“Would you like to hear it?” You proposed, shifting in your seat so that you were close to him as you could be, despite the middle console separating the two of you.

He nodded, tuning in to you clear your throat as he proceeded to drive on the nearly empty roads.

“Why must I be so lucky to bask in the presence of one in a million?

How can I be so sure this isn’t a trick from heaven?

For your eyes are like saucers from another planet so distant.

And your smile, shimmering so bright like the moon on Christmas.

Is it true, art thou, the one I choose?

Are you the prize I find sitting in my room?

Is it you I see before I go to bed?

Not just an allusion in my head?

When I look out the window into the night sky,

I see it clearly now you are by my side.

Not just a glimmer in the atmosphere,

I know now that you are here.

The love of my life,

my one and only

The only touch that dances upon me.

Like the stars up above, I see him here.

His name is Steve, and I love you, my dear.”

Your voice rushed with serenity, but the words were even charming. He praised god that he made it into the driveway by the time you finished because he was so enchanted by the way you were able to write him. How you were able to make all these correlations between him, the sky, and the stars. You’d always had a way with your words, something he was still trying to get used to, especially when the euphonic remarks were aimed at him.

“That…” His speech sailed off into the quiet night as you watched him click his belt undone so he could comfortably close the space between you two.

The notebook and pencil were long forgotten now that you had him right where you wanted with his lips on yours. Moving ever so romantically, in no rush or haste to get to the good part, because having your skin on each other was always the good part.

Finally he pulled away, “….That mind of yours is so brilliant.”

“This happens all the time.” You moaned, a bit of whining in your statement as you protested that he pulled away just to compliment you, when you wanted nothing more than to keep his lips on yours permanently, if that was even possible.

He smiled at your admission. “What? Me breaking the kiss or you being the next William Shakespeare.”

“You dork!” You snorted, driving your head back, before you chased his lips from the passenger seat, to outside in the driveway, then through the front door, up the stairs, then into his bedroom where you and him ruled this private kingdom of love and lust.

And here you were tonight, writing in that same notebook in which you had written that poem, dedicated to Steve Harrington himself. Though it had been carefully torn out of its binding, finding a new home between a piece of glass and frame where it hung on a wall. You had gifted it to him randomly one afternoon, and since then has been one of his most prized possessions among the other heartfelt gifts you had made for him.

“I love you, you know that?” He begged, trailing his hands away from the keyboards and grabbing at you until you were a giggling wreck seated between his legs.

You managed to contort yourself into his weird hold, just enough so that you could turn and bring your lips to meet with such a tenderness that neither one of you could ever begin to describe. It was weird to think that this was the man that you were going to spend the rest of your life with and you were so sure of it. Because no one came close or would ever come closer to how Steve makes you feel.

For the longest time, you’d been searching for a love like this. Hoping that you’d find that person who would make you blush with every single look of desire. The person who you could run to without ever feeling like you’d be a nuance. He was more than what you could ever dream of or read in a classic romance novel. He was real life and all that you ever wanted was him and his love.

“Of course I know that, silly—and I love you, too.” You countered never pulling away from him, but just talking against his lips and he understood every word that came out of your mouth no matter how suppressed it was.

He beamed like an idiot against you, grazing your lips again before finally allowing you to turn back in front of the two of you where the keyboard laid.

“Here,” you said, reaching for the notebook and passing it back to him with the pen, “This time I’ll play and you write.”

“Let’s hear what you’ve got, baby.” He saluted, taking it from you, and giving your shoulders a supporting rub as you got familiar with the keys again.

“Industry disruptors and soul deconstructors. And smooth-talking hucksters. Out glad-handing each other.”

There was no course that prepared you for facing the hardships of not feeling like you were good enough for Steve’s love. It wasn’t all the time you felt like this, just a few times, but when it did, it was like a wave of sadness crashing into your soul and lingering there, leaving you to feel so heavy.

You couldn’t pinpoint why you’d feel like this because, if anything, Steve always assured you when it came to your relationship with him. He only ever saw you and he always made that known. Telling you how beautiful you looked every day. Applauding your ability to do things with such grace that he never thought was possible. And he was the kind of boyfriend that would brag about you to all his friends and family because he adored you so much. He wanted to share how kind and generous you were with other people.

It wasn’t about how Steve made you feel, but particularly about the way you feared that other people felt for him.

Insecurity at its finest.

Not many girls threw themselves at Steve, at least not anymore, especially when you and he were always together and he could never keep his eyes off of you, paying none of them any treatment.

But they never went unnoticed by you.

Especially at parties which were never your thing, to be quite honest. But anything with Steve is fun in your eyes, so you go, usually dancing the night away with you in his arms as he drank his usual fruit punch and you nursed a spiked lemonade. Nights like this were generally all in good nature, but this night was completely the opposite of that.

First it was Tiffany.

She was different from you as she ran in the same circle that Steve did when he was in high school. Tiffany was the popular girl—plenty of friends, had an ever-growing social life, and was easy to talk to.

Then it was Brandi.

She knew Steve through mutual acquaintances, a guy named Tommy who you’d never met before. She actually talked to you more than she spoke to Steve, which should have been a good thing, but she seemed to have been picking apart your life. Every time she’d ask you about what you liked to do, she’d rebuttal with something much cooler, something that got Steve inquiring what she was talking about and saying, “neat,” every minute.

And last was Dana.

She was a complete stranger to you and Steve, just a random girl who happened to be at the same party as the both of you. She was bolder than the other two girls, purposely making comments towards Steve’s appearance and how she would kill to have a man like him. And Steve didn’t even entertain the idea, immediately shutting her down and telling her that you were his girlfriend.

But that didn’t stop you from excusing yourself, rushing through this unfamiliar house to find the nearest bathroom before the tears could spill out of your eyes for everyone to see. The last thing you needed was to be called a crybaby and ruin the fun that you and Steve were supposed to be having. When the bathroom finally came into sight, you scrambled into it before some drunk could, locking the door and bracing yourself against the sink.

“Fuck,” you sniffled weakly, keeping your clouded eyes glued to the drain as the tears dripdropdrooped down your cheeks off your jaw and into the sink below you.

It was ridiculous that you were here crying. Steve didn’t even flirt with any of them, and it’s not like he would have anyways. He was just conversing with them to be nice. That’s who Steve was. The nice guy. One of his charming qualities that made you fall for him. But also a quality that just made him so well liked by every other girl that looked his way.

It made you feel…disgusted.

“Baby,” You should’ve known Steve was going to follow you up here.

He always made it a thing to make sure you were never alone at these kinds of parties. He worried about you running into the wrong people or someone trying to hurt you while you were all alone. Which is why most times, you’d just tell him when you’d have to go to the restroom and he’d wait patiently outside the door, making sure no creeps would try anything when you were by yourself.

You quickly reached for the tissues sitting on the counter, dabbing under your eyes, as the other flushed the toilet to make it seem like you were doing your business in here, “I’m fine, Steve…just had to pee!”

The sniffle that he heard from outside the door confirmed his worry that you were, in fact, not ok. He could feel you tensing under his arm every time one of the girls would approach and conversate with him. He did his best to deter them, even just by completely ignoring them and talking to you, but he could tell it still made you uncomfortable.

“Could you open up, babe?” He spoke, tapping again as you threw the tissue into the garbage and turned on the water to wash your hands.

You shouted out a “yes,” and gave yourself one more convincing look in the mirror to try to make it look like you weren’t just crying your eyes out in this stranger’s bathroom. When you finally unlocked the door, he greeted you with a regretful smile that you could easily tell the difference from his normal ones. Steve let himself in, locking the door behind him and just letting it be the two of you in this small space.

“Do you need to take a leak?” You proposed, attempting to avoid the conversation about what unfolded downstairs.

He shook his head, taking your face in his hands with a still softness that made you want to cry all over again for the stupid reason of jealousy, “I came ‘cause I know you’re not ok.”

“I don’t know what y-you’re talking about.” You reasoned plainly.

If Steve didn’t know you like the back of his hand and noticed the minor changes to your voice, maybe it would have been convincing. But the little crack in your sentence and the way you tried to move away from his touch, was already a clear sign that you were deceiving him and trying to cover it up.

Steve took a deep breath, letting his hands fall so that he could grab at your hands that were resting on your sides. Intertwining them together, he squeezed.

“You can tell me what’s going on, baby. You don’t have to pretend with me.”

It was so true. You never ever had to pretend to be this mighty strong independent woman when it came to showing and telling Steve how you felt. If anything, he welcomed this side of you, wanting you to know that it was ok to feel vulnerable in front of him. That he would never blame or judge you for feeling like a human would.

You shut your eyes tightly, the tears seeping through the slits before you forced them open and puffed out a deep, frustrating breath.

“I hate how they want you!”

Steve was attentive, allowing you to unravel your fingers from his as you paced the small space in front of him.

“I hate that they fawn over you. I hate the way they look at you. I hate the way they try to impress you. I hate the way they talk to you. And I most certainly hate the way that they want you, the only way I have you.”

You gave yourself a second to take a deep breath between your words and tears, even turning around to roughly snatch more tissues to catch your tears, while Steve’s concerned orbs never left you.

“I hate the way they make me feel so…nonexistent. I hate that I feel jealous, and I know I shouldn’t be—because I know that you love me and only me, but I just hate it! I don’t like this. At all.”

When you initiated the first contact, leading out to hug him, he knew it was his signal now. That it was his turn to talk and give you the comfort that you needed.

“Hey, it’s ok,” Steve murmured through your heavy breathing against his heart. His palms rubbed up and down your back, warming you up with his body heat, which was like a natural blanket and safety net that you wanted to fall into all the time in times like these.

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way—“

You shook your head, stretching away to look up at him, only breaking his soul when he saw your tear covered face. “It’s not your fault…I’m just dumb and I hate myself for feeling like—“

“Hey. None of that.” He interrupted firmly, his fingers sweeping over both of your cheeks to wipe away the wetness of tears.

“I should’ve told them to back off sooner. That’s my bad, baby. I’m sorry. So sorry, sweetheart.”

Giving him the best smile you could, you acknowledged him, closing your eyes, “Apology accepted.”

Steve grinned, dragging your face towards him so he could peck your lips.

“You’re the only one I want. Remember that. I don’t care about anything they have to say or the way they look at me because I have you, and when I look at you, I feel so fulfilled.” He professed, intensely peering into your eyes and he spoke so closely you could feel each breath he took with each word fanning your face like a cool gust on a summer afternoon.

“My existence is worth something because of you. I only want you to want me. And I’m sure you only want me to want you.”

You sniffled, letting out a short laugh while you nodded. “Of course.”

“See. Now, please stop crying…I hate seeing you so sad.” He sulked, eyes turned down as he remained drying your tears until you finally stopped.

You and Steve spent ten more minutes in that bathroom with him simply holding you close, swaying you back and forth as he whispered encouraging words into your ear. Jealously may not have looked good on you, let alone anyone, but vulnerability definitely did.

Refreshing is what it felt like when you could have moments like this with, Steve. Never feeling like you had to hide or conceal the impending thoughts in your head, even when sometimes it was self destructive.

He liked it too.Someone who was honest with him and not afraid to be.

Previous relationships comprised him needing to guess and gauge how his partner was feeling, but with you it was comforting to know that you’d let him into your mind and worries. That he didn’t need to pry or feel like he was invading because you just allowed him to listen. Whether it was his fault or not, he wanted to know how you were feeling inside and out. You were his girl, and he would do anything to take away any ounce of pain or sadness you had.

He was your home, and you were his. Even in this claustrophobic foreign bathroom, when you had each other in one another’s arms, you were instantly home. A safe space for all the emotions under the sun and over the dark clouds.

“Shit! My writing is ass, babe.” Steve huffed from behind you, as you sat back into the now, entirely forgetting about the three other girls who could never be you or ever take your place right here, right now.

You laughed, pushing your head back to stare at him upside down, “C’mon, we’re almost done with the song!”

“If you’d stop being so cute, we’d be finished with it long ago.” He scowled with no real ill will, scrunching your cheeks together as you continued to laugh until he let you go, guiding you right side up.

“You get the last verse in the bridge, hot stuff.” You reached back to pinch his thigh gingerly, as he mumbled, thinking before it came to him. A bit of inspiration taken from the last lines you had sung.

“And the voices that implore, “You should be doing more.” To you, I can admit that I’m just too soft for all of it.”

Steve never had a great relationship with either of his parents, but especially his dad. He had even described him as a “grade-A-asshole” the first time you had asked him if it was ok for you to finally meet him. And so when Steve finally introduced you to his parents, it was definitely not what you were expecting.

His mom was really sweet, asking you a lot about your life and parents while his dad stayed quiet for most of the dinner, only giving his input when it consisted of asking you about college and future plans. That seemed to matter a lot to his dad, so when you mentioned taking a gap year and were met with a condescending laugh of incredulity, you had fully expected Steve’s mom to shut that behavior down.

But she sat there and observed, allowing her husband to treat you with such disrespect until Steve had enough, getting into a full fledge screaming match with his father while you attempted to diffuse the situation from intensifying.

Things with his dad never got any better and his relationship with his mother only seemed to decline as you and Steve’s relationship furthered. The days in which you two would spend at his house were mainly when his parents were out of town on business trips. Other than that, to avoid conflict, he would stay with you at your parents’ house when his were back.

“Why’re you so nervous, Stevie?” You leaned over the middle console inside his BMW, tearing your boyfriend out of his thoughts as the two of you sat in the driveway of his parents’ home.

He rubbed his temples, pronounced stress already making itself apparent on Steve’s face and body, “I just wished I didn’t have to say anything,” He groaned, sensing an impending headache arriving.

For the past week and a half, you and Steve had been moving his things out of his bedroom and storing it in your parents’ garage for the time being. Since you and him had been together awhile now, the two of you figured it was the right time to find a place of your own, a few miles outside of Hawkins and just a town down in Roane County. Of course, with Steve’s parents barely in the picture, they failed to notice Steve’s missing things and his lengthy absence from their home.

You smiled tightly, reaching out to rest a comforting palm over his shoulders and rubbing fondly, “I know, but it’s better that they find out through us than just finally realize you moved out without saying anything.”

He knew you had a point. Getting up and leaving was not something that he excepted to come to terms with so easily, but when doing it with you, he knew he’d follow you to the ends of the Earth if it meant waking up and going to bed beside you. But he also knew his father and the way he’d snowball this situation and overreact over his son, simply growing up and starting his own life with his girlfriend.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Let’s just get this over with.” He took a deep breath, flipping his sun visor back up before turning his head and kissing your hand that still rested between his t-shirt and shoulder.

And of course, Steve was right because the second he had blurted out that he was moving out, mid dinner, his father went absolutely ballistic. Throwing his napkin down on the food and standing up from his chair as he began shouting at Steve.

You sat there patiently, lying your hand on Steve’s knee under the table where it bounced up and down. And you could see his fists tightly clenched in his lap, wanting to do nothing more than to knock his old man out cold.

“I mean, what are you thinking, Steven!? Do you even realize the responsibility that comes with moving out?!”

His father’s voice bellowed through the dinning room, hell it could even be heard from outside the front door if you were guessing. For the most part Steve had mastered the art of letting the things his dad say go in one ear then out the other just so he could avoid confrontation and fights, but it was hard to pretend like his dad was a prime example or someone he could look up to when he wasn’t even present for anything good that came Steve’s way.

“What does it matter to you? Hell, you’re barely even home! I think I’ve spent more time here alone, taking care of myself than you guys have in the past five years.”

The shock the spread across his fathers face was amusing, and you wanted so badly to laugh out loud, and tell him off about how much of a horrible dad he had been to Steve, but your boyfriend always made it clear to you that his issue with his dad was between him and his dad only. It’s not that he didn’t want you to defend him, hell you defended him all the time when his dad wasn’t around, never missing a beat to express to Steve how much you wished his dad could just go and fuck himself.

But the words that his father spat were always venomous and filled with such hostility that he would never want directed towards you. It was better if he just took all the hits than to let you be a victim to one of his dad’s tirades.

“You,” His old man sharply pointed a finger at Steve and rested the other on his hip, “Apologize to me right now! You’d be nothing without me, young man!”

Steve took a deep breath, closing his eyes, mouth about to move to say his empty apology just so his dad could shut the hell up and stop making a big deal out of this, but you couldn’t possibly stay silent anymore. It was exhausting to see how small his father made him feel. It was as if Steve had just totally became a different person when his father was around, never really being able to express who he was or share any part of his life without being criticized.

“That’s not true.” You swallowed, glaring up at his dad, whose eyes enlarged, adverting his scrutiny to you.

Steve’s eyes nearly buldged out of his skull when your voice spoke, turning to you with a rigid look on his face that silently told you to stop, but you shook your head, giving his knee one last squeeze before you stood up, carrying your own.

“Steve is hardworking. He’s intelligent. He’s compassionate. Everything that you lack, Steve has, and that’s because Steve is a good person—“

“A good person that didn’t get accepted into any of his picks for college! Not even his backup—“

Anger flooded your nerves. You loathed when his father talked so poorly about his own son, “What does it matter to you? You got accepted into an ivy league and still turned out to be the most obnoxious, overbearing, unpleasant person and, most of all, a sad excuse of a father.”

His dad did nothing but look between his wife, Steve, and you with maddening eyes and steam metaphorically coming out of his head.

“Are you going to let her talk to me like that?”

Your shoulders shook and heart thumped against your chest as Steve already nodded his head, rising up firmly beside you. Somehow finding it within himself to defend his own name and especially yours. Steve never wanted to control you. He always admired that you were so headstrong and resilient. Today was no different and he would not let his dad try to belittle you or himself anymore.

“Yeah, I actually am.” Steve clutched your hand, holding them together as he lifted them up and shook it between the space.

“She’s right. I am a goddamn good person and I’ve let you walk all over me throughout my entire childhood…and to be quite honest with you, dad, neither you nor mom had ever been good parents to me.”

His mom gasped, her only input in the conversation as at, “Steven!”

Steve turned to his mother, sighing exasperatedly, “I am tired of feeling like a ghost in this family…someone you only talk to when it’s convenient to, or when you want me to be your punching bag.”

His father paid no mind to the previous revelation, just wanting to make the situation about himself in an attempt to feed his ego.

“And what do you plan to do, huh? You don’t have a degree, let alone a good paying job. You have no aspirations. No ambitions. And this girlfriend of yours sure as hell isn’t any help when she should be encouraging you to do more with your life than sell movies to dirtbags.”

This is exactly what Steve wanted to dodge, you now becoming the punching bag that his father was now hitting with low blows. All he saw was red, releasing your intertwined hands, and making his way around the dining table to push his father’s chest with his hands full of fury.

“Steve!” you exclaimed, tracking right behind him, attempting to pull him back from getting hurt.

But your boyfriend was stronger, perhaps because of the adrenaline rushing through his veins, allowing him another push that almost sent his dad tumbling over if it weren’t for his mom, catching him and standing him upright.

“Don’t you ever talk to her like that! She’s done everything and given me the love you two never did.”

Maybe it was because Steve had buried all this family trauma in the back of his head, and totally forgot about it when he started seeing you, but he would be damned if he would leave this household without telling his parents everything they had made him feel throughout his entire life.

First being the only child, and having no one to talk to when he was a kid, followed by trying to please his parents by allowing them to live vicariously through him, then being painted as the bad guy for finally finding his own purpose in life was too much for him to handle.

“Steve, please.” You begged, pressing yourself between the two men, and bumping Steve back so he could step away from his father.

“You know nothing about me!” He roared at his parents, allowing you to make him take a few steps back to find his cool, but never letting the anger die in his voice.

If your heart was beating a hundred miles over the limit, Steve’s was over a million and his breathing was heavy with your palms finding their way on his chest. The second he glanced down at you and met your eyes, he was grounded. Back to reality. A place he knew he could say anything that was on his chest and get all the baggage off his desk.

He took a deep breath, reflecting your own breathing before finally looking back at his parents, who stayed mute, watching on to see what their son’s next move was going to be.

And he spoke.

“She and I got a lease for an apartment down in Roane. I got promoted to manager at Family Video months ago and I make way more than minimum wage. I applied for a second job at a middle school and got hired to help with their after-school program for kids. I applied to a community college and got accept, I’m planning to get my degree in education.”

The tears gushed liberally down Steve’s cheek, informing his parents all about this life they had no clue about. How successful Steve actually was outside of their ideals that he was doing nothing except selling VHS tapes and riding around town with his girlfriend.

“Her family actually cares about me. Her dad gives me advice when I ask, not unsolicited like you, dad. Her mom actually let’s me talk to her about anything and doesn’t make me feel less than because I have feelings. And she…”

He swallowed the lump in his throat, eyes glinting below as he looked at you with such intensity and delicateness that truly revealed how much he felt for you.

“She’s everything to me. Caring. Understanding. Loyal. Funny. Encouraging. She makes me feel like I’m enough, even when I know I’m rock-bottom shit because of the damage you two caused—but at the end of the day, she’s home.”

By now, you had been crying, finding your face tucked in his chest as your warm tears soaked through his polo and he could feel the dampness against his skin. He hated when you cried and he knew that you and him were about to make your exit.

Steve was always tender when it came to touches, and that never changed, not even when you were a crying mess in front of his parents. And so with that, he wrapped his arms around you heartily, shuffling the two of you to the front door, pausing only briefly to give his parents one last piece of his mind.

“This is going to be the last time you see either of us—maybe one day when you finally apologize, we can work things out, but right now, I don’t need either of you. Only her.”

With that, he led you two out of his parents’ home, immediately embracing you tighter, crying within each other’s arm right out in the open. The light breeze wandered over your skins, as he just held you. The two of you whispering to one another constants “I love yous,” not caring that any of the neighbors could be watching the scene from their windows.

“I’m sorry…”

You shook your head, pink lips trembling as you let out a “nuh uh,” brushing your fingertips under his eyes to wipe the tears away from his beautifully freckled face, “No…I’m sorry, so sorry you had to put up with that all your life.”

“Not anymore,” His cheeks rose against your palms when he put on a faint smile on his face, pushing his head down to kiss your lips sweetly.

“Not ever.” You affirmed kissing him again, before you and Steve drove off into the night, never looking back at what could have been and simply focusing on the fact that it now was you and him against the world.

And so here the two of you sat in the bedroom you now called your own. The small apartment was just an hour away from your hometown, now becoming a sanctuary of peace and home to new memories that you and Steve had created together, just like this song.

The place was decorated with photos of the both of you and the little trinkets like the pebble and framed polaroid that found its new place on the coffee table in the living room.

Or that poem you had written him, now placed on his desk at work, every morning being greeted by your way of words, even though before he left the apartment, you’d always tell him, “Have a good day at work, I love you.”

And of course, the mixtape of love songs, now finding its constant spot in and out of the radio that sat in the corner of the kitchen island, where you and Steve would chat and end up out of your seats by the end of the night where you’d dance in each other’s arms.

All that you two ever wanted was nothing but this.

The sweetness and bliss that came with loving him. Not for notoriety or calling dibs on the guy you had a crush on for years before either of you made a move. Just this, forever and always, knowing that you were home for him, and he was home for you. That there was no shame in feeling, but just a safe space for being honest and open about everything.

This wasn’t only a new beginning, but just the start of something so fresh and freeing. Because if there was one thing that the two of you knew, it was that they were going to be great parents and this would be the song that would rock their baby to sleep.

This was sweet nothing.

A/N: Okay, so I was able to finish this in literally one day…I think that’s quite impressive for someone like me who literally has a million thoughts running through her mind on a daily basis. Sweet Nothing, which I believe is one of the most underrated tracks on Midnights, really gives me Steve Harrington vibes and I hope I was able to do his character justice and provide some tooth rotting fluff to ring in the new year. Again, all credits to Taylor Swift for writing this amazingly vulnerable song about love that I wish to find one day…but I wrote the poem in the fic myself (don’t come at me for the basic rhymes lol). Reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated!!!! Thanks for reading!!!

#MunsonsReputation #steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x you #steve harrington angst #steve harrington stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things #steve stranger things #stranger things x reader #taylor swift x stranger things

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wildlcck · 2 months

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THE ANGEL THAT IS SUNSHINE (@soughtserenity): Sadie did you ever want kids before everything happened or were you and your Jake happy with things just as they were ?

━━━🥀━━━

the shot glass from earlier lies empty, long abandoned now. she's started helping herself to some generous sips from the bottle instead- one. then, another. ❛ we thought about it. talked about it. we tried our fair share o' times. but... it wa'n't on the cards for us. ❜ lighting a cig with a small, faltering, faraway smile (one of the few she knows now). ❛ i know he woulda loved bein' a daddy, my jakey. he never did say all that much about it. he always said i was all the world he was ever gonna want or need. that our little world, this life of ours we was buildin' together... that was big enough, more than enough, for him. but, he thought about it. i know he did. i knew what he was thinkin', what was on his mind... without him sayin' nothin'. always did. ❜ she can remember fretting something fierce about it. 'cause they'd have this other mouth or mouths to feed and care for on their hands. and how would any kid of hers, with her having this cold stone for a heart, who'd come from a woman like her momma, who'd come from a momma like hers before her be any different? how could she or they be anything other than cold- hard? then, feeling some relief. a little sadness somewhere, too. for him. maybe some for herself. she did get to wondering. thinking if maybe she, if they, couldn't do it different. so, maybe she wasn't the mothering kind. but, in a warm, loving house, a home, with a man who's all love and heart? it could be different. they could do it different. so, she'd started thinking and they'd started talking about a stubborn-hearted, wild thing of a girl running 'round, one with unruly blonde hair. just like her. playing to her and teaching silly old nursery rhymes on the harmonica. or maybe a boy, with his kind eyes and heart. them reading to him and him always with his head stuck in some book. how different it'd be. she lost track of the tries, eventually. stopped counting, talking or wanting about it. got a little angry. a little sad maybe, too. she never did like having nothing taken from her, taken out of her hands. she always wanted to not want something. or to want to. then, she came across that little lopsided donkey-horse again, tucked away someplace, a little dusty now. the one he'd been trying to carve for what seemed like forever (she'd picked splinter after splinter out of his hands- he never was all that handy or practical, her jake). she was always saying how it looked more like an ass. he always laughed at that. but, he was determined, all right. he told her he was gonna make a whole ranch, even if it killed him (and his damn hands). how they'd learn their girl or boy all about theirs. how she could teach them to ride someday. one night, when they was doing the washing up, she wanted to tell him how she loved that stupid little horse. and him. about everything and all the nothing. then, a plate slipped from her hands. and then, she wanted nothing more than to break, to shatter them one after the other. so, she did, sobbing or screaming or something in between the two. he didn't say a word, her jake. just tended gently to her bloodied hands, all ridden with cuts. wiped carefully at the tears. held her in his warm, loving arms. he didn't say nothing when she replaced the plates a day or so later. just held her a little tighter at night, in the dark and quiet. ❛ he woulda made a great daddy, ma jake. the best. ❜

#sUNSHINE.#MY ONLY SUNSHINE #i cannot thank you enough for this and for allowing me to go a lil (or a lot!!) more in depth about this #i've been thinking about it for so long and wanted to jot down something for it for forever #thank you so much for this and for you my lovely <3<3 #soughtserenity #[ hc. ]#pregnancy tw

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bookerdewittsstuff · 10 months

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Domestic! Booker Dewitt HCs part 3!

Booker with a baby! no warnings this time.

A/N: I hate college

»»————-　★　————-««

after years of being together, Booker had finally found peace within himself. He no longer saw himself as some piece of shit gambler, private investigator, and veteran. He’s just…him now. And for once, he can stand to look at himself in the mirror every day. Don’t get me wrong, he was still a complete asshole sometimes, but he’s gotten better.

He never imagined himself having kids, he thought it would just be you and him until the end of time…or until you inevitably got tired of his bullshit and left him. But that day hadn’t come just yet.

So when he found out you were pregnant he was shocked to say the least. He literally went :0 and just stared at you for a good few minutes.

-“oh my god, please say something,” you begged, almost ready to slap that bewildered look off his face. He just stood there, his mouth agape as he looked down at the positive pregnancy test clutched in your hand. “Uh…congratulations?” He whispered, glancing up at you.

Of course it was never a planned pregnancy…maybe the two of you forgot to wear a condom a few times…but surprise! You’re welcoming a child into your loving home!

He didn’t care about the gender, but it was a girl and he was perfectly fine with that. The two of you decided on the name Anna (haha), and soon the baby was here!

He had no idea what he was doing. So when you asked him to change Anna’s diaper while you went to the bathroom, he was again bewildered.

-he blinked down at his baby, the baby blinked up at him as she pulled her tiny little foot into her mouth. “Stop that,” he grumbled, pulling off the soiled diaper and quickly discarding it. After wiping Anna clean, he grabbed the new diaper, opening it up and staring at it. “What the hell?” He scoffed, trying to figure out how he was supposed to put this damn thing on. Eventually, when he did put the diaper on, you appeared behind his shoulder, “it’s on backwards,” you said and he jumped slightly, not realizing you were there. “Oh Jesus Christ,” he groaned as Anna cooed up at him, her foot still in her mouth.

When it came to Anna waking up in the middle of the night, he usually let you do it because anna seemed to like you more than him. But one night, anna was fussing and crying and you were sound asleep next to him. He sighed and got up, heading into anna’s nursery and picking her up, holding her against his chest like he’s seen you do many times.

- “how can you be so loud, hm?” He whispered tiredly, sitting in the rocking chair in the corner and slowly rocking back and forth, anna pressed against his chest. “I’m not gonna sing those silly little nursery rhymes like your mama does…” he complained as if Anna understood him. Instead, he talked about his life before he met you, how miserable he was and then he met you, got married, and not too long after, he had his very own child. Anna was fast asleep by the time he was finished talking about his time in the war.

- this continued for a while. He let you sleep and instead took care of the baby himself. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the way anna looked up at him when he picked her up. How she now immediately stopped crying when he walked into the room. It warmed his heart to be loved by two people who were very special to him.

Eventually, he was a pro at changing diapers, feeding Anna, putting her to sleep, and giving her baths. Though he felt a bit offended when Anna’s first coherent word was “mama” and not “papa” or “dada”.

-“honey, you can’t be mad at that,” you said, patting his shoulder as he held Anna in his arms. He had an annoyed expression on his face as he looked down at the baby. “I’ll remember this when you’re older, little girl,” he said and you just grinned.

When anna became a toddler, he was a bit more on edge than usual. She became curious about things. Such as the cleaning supplies under the kitchen sink or what would happen if she ran full speed towards a corner of the coffee table. So, he had to toddler-proof literally the entire house.

- he was putting the finishing touches on the toddler-proofed coffee table when he heard some noises in the bathroom. He froze, remembering that you had left to go meet some friends and the last time he checked, anna was playing with some building blocks. But when he looked over to his side, anna wasn’t there. He quickly jumped up and ran towards the bathroom. The sight before him was anna holding a bottle of bleach, the cap clattering onto the floor just as he managed to grab the bottle from her. “If you don’t accidentally kill your lead with these damn cleaning supplies first, you’re gonna give me a goddamn heart attack,” he huffed, making a mental note to put a child lock on the bathroom cabinets as he carried anna out of the bathroom.

Despite the critical voice in his head telling him he’s a terrible man, he’s a good father. He found love in both you and his own child. He has two reasons to live now. And maybe once anna is a few years older he comes to you asking about another child….

#bioshock #bioshock infinite #bioshock fanfiction #booker dewitt #booker dewitt x reader

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breakfastteatime · 2 years

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Comfortember Day 11 - Holding Hands

Greez and BD-1 stick with Cal. He can't be left alone... Okay, fine, maybe he could, but there's no way he will be unless all hell's breaking loose, the Empire’s on them, and the Mantis needs her pilot and a droid ready to work. Until that exact scenario occurs, Greez and BD are staying right where they are. Cal needs them. And no, they aren’t swapping out with Cere or Merrin because they both need rest as well.

They need to keep Cal calm, quiet and still. The kid still has a hole in his side that bacta and magick can only do so much with. Plus his lungs had a bit too much water in them not so long ago. Cere insists he'll be fine now with rest, but Greez has upgrading that to rest and constant monitoring. Cal's feverish and restless. Not dramatically restless; he isn't tossing and turning like he might take off running, he’s not shouting nonsense or throwing stuff around with the Force. He hasn’t even managed to kick off his blanket that Greez tucked around him a while ago. He's just... twitchy. Frowning. Mumbling. Kinda sweaty. Flushed. And it turns out redheaded Humans don’t look great when their skin’s trying to match their hair. Especially when all the red is across his cheeks and the rest of him is horribly pale.

Greez has to fix this. Or manage it at the very least. The kid’s worked so damn hard, hasn’t had a moment to catch his breath until now. It shouldn’t have taken stabbing and drowning to give him a chance to finally slow down. He needs rest. Good, quiet, peaceful rest. Except he’s not going to get it when his hands are scrabbling at the sheets, reaching for something that isn’t there.

Standing at Cal’s side, BD-1 droops and mewls. Greez reaches over, gives BD a solid pat on the head. “Yeah, I know,” he says. “I wish I could use some of that Force stuff and help him feel better too. We’re just gonna have to do it our way instead.”

Antennae wiggling, BD pauses for thought. Then, as an idea passes over his circuits, he worms his way under one of Cal’s hands. Greez chuckles and follows suit, taking hold of Cal's nearest hand. It’s still too cold for Greez’s liking. Humans don’t run as hot as Lateros (hair really doesn’t compare to fur after all), but Cal’s temperature is too high for another blanket. He’s still moving too much for the blanket to stay put too. Greez squeezes Cal’s hand gently, willing healthy warmth into him. Another of Greez’s hands brushes Cal’s sweat-and-sea-salt-drenched hair back from his forehead. Cal leans into the touch, his fretful stirring settling.

“There you go,” Greez says. “You just needed to know you weren’t alone, huh?”

Cal’s fingers twitch in Greez’s grip, slowly curling around Greez’s hand. BD-1 whistles gently, practically purring. His antennae twitch on either side of his head, brushing Cal’s fingers gently. He beeps again and Greez figures he knows what’s being said.

“Yeah, I think it’s a good sign.” Heart lifting, Greez keeps hold of Cal’s hand and plants himself more comfortably on the bed. “Alright kiddo, I don’t know for sure if you can hear me. I figure you probably can on some level, what with all your Jedi superpowers. So, listen up. You’re safe. Everyone’s safe. We got you back out of that nightmare, and now all you need to do is rest. No more of your worrying or fighting or any of that stuff. Just sleep and good dreams. You deserve it. And if you don’t start sleeping soundly, I am gonna have to bust out an old nursery rhyme or two.”

BD-1 seconds this with a cheery (if muted) series of beeps.

Greez keeps talking. “What are you gonna do when you wake up? Nothing that involves a lightsaber, let me tell ya. A quiet day with your music and the terrarium is more like it. Yeah, don’t think I haven’t noticed you looking at those plants. I promise I’ll teach you how to take care of them when you’re up to it. Guess I owe it to you, seeing as how you found all the seeds.” Greez chuckles. “Or maybe it’s time I finally teach you how to cook. You worked your way through my jogan pie pretty well. And I notice you’re a man who appreciates a good rice dish. Ever had kublag curry? That stuff is spicy in the right way – full of flavour and just the right amount of heat. I know, I know, it’s a traditional Life Day meal, but who says we can’t do what we want aboard my ship. Soon as you’re up for it, I’m gonna make you all your favourite meals. I’ll even let you have lie ins. I’m definitely not gonna wake you up right now until you’re up to it.”

BD-1 adds a comment here. It sounds like an insult.

“Hush, you,” Greez says. “Oversleeping’s as bad as lack of sleep. Usually. This is a special case. Cal is officially off the hook for the foreseeable.”

Disgruntled, BD-1 mutters quietly. Greez gets the feeling if Cal was awake, he’d be laughing right now.

Greez lets it go and returns to his monologuing. “Please don’t ever scare me like this again. Don’t scare any of us.” BD-1 punctuates this with such a loud beep Cal does stir and frown. Greez hushes him sharply and takes care to brush a thumb over the back of Cal’s hand. As Cal settles, BD apologises quietly. Shaking his head, Greez picks up where he left off. “We care about you, Cal, a lot. Place wouldn’t be the same without you. Or your ponchos. Actually, y’know what, that’s the first thing we’re gonna do when you’re healed up. Clothes shopping. Other outfits exist, and it probably wouldn’t hurt for you to change your style. The Empire’s gonna be looking for a redheaded scrapper after all. Besides, there’s no need to be so frugal now. Cere suggested Humans your age still potentially grow so that’s something we need to think about. Like I need you to shoot up a few more inches, make me feel really small. Anyway, clothes. Not everyone can pull off the old ankle-swinger look, alright? And I’m not saying you need a haircut, but you should probably know Merrin’s making comments about tying it back for you. I don’t have an opinion on hairstyles, honestly, I’m just making you aware. Personally, I think you should grow your hair out, rival Merrin, see who can pull off the nicer bun.”

The longer Greez talks, the more Cal settles and stills. BD-1 reports that his temperature, though still too high, has stabilised, and his readings suggest deep, restful sleep.

“There you go,” Greez says. “Just needed some company. I get it. Ol’ Greezy gets it.”

BD squawks.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you get it too, BD.” Greez places another hand around Cal’s, holding tight. A third hand reaches for the blanket, tucking it into place. “We’ve got you, kid. We’ve got you.”

(FAO @sauntering-down (✿◡‿◡))

(Also, this is an extension of this headcanon)

#comfortember 2022 #jfo minific #jfo headcanon #cal kestis #greez dritus #bd 1 #the mantis crew

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wetniightmares · 2 years

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um excuse me what the actual fck are you doing in my house 🤨 (Billy Lenz x GN!Reader)

he looks so fucking goofy i love him (this is not the remake vers, me n my homies hate the remake!!)

the night was cold, dark, and quiet. so quiet you could actually hear the tv for once, what a blessing from god. today the girls went to a party at someone else's house to "switch things up". you could've gone, but you chose to stay. eating leftovers you've successfully hidden away from the house, drinking beer, and watching a horror movie.

what a great evening. all quiet and alone. you loved the girl's company, they definitely knew how to party and how to have some real fun but sometimes, you just need some quiet time, some 'you' time. that was until the phone rang. you groaned in annoyance, debating whether you should just let it ring. so you did. you just sat there, pretending not to hear it ring. until you got pissed off and yanked the phone off its holder. "Pi Kappa Sigma sorority line, how may I help ya'?" The line was quiet. Not too quiet, you could hear breathing, heavy breathing." after some minutes of quietness and playing with the phone card, you got a bit bored.

"hey listen, if ya' ain't gonna talk, then don't call." you figured it was a prank call but right as you were about to put it back in its holder but then you hear... squealing? what the fuck? "hello? i don't quite get what you're sayin' here. if this is a prank, I'm gonna hang up now."

"let me lick your pretty piggy cunt!" the other line said, catching you completely off guard, you yelled "what the fuck?! who is this ya' nutcase!?" all you heard back was mumbling of some sort of nursery rhyme. "this is the last time I'll tell you if this is a prank, i'm hangin' up. this ain't funny."

"i'll stick my tongue up your pretty pussy!" already on the edge, you bashed the phone back into its place holder praying you didn't break it before walking your way back to the couch before realizing, that damn phone made you miss your favorite part of the movie!

the phone rang again before you walked over to it, before you could even get a word out of your mouth, "I'm gonna kill you." then the line went dead. "damn, at least let me say somethin' first." and then, you heard a loud thump from above. "goddamnit Claude" you yelled before working your way up to the entrance of the attic to get the cat. "here kitty kitty..." you said before making that weird "pss pss" noise every cat owner does.

that's when you saw something. a mannequin? completely losing focus of finding Claude you walk your way towards it. that's when you see an eye. "Holy shi" before you can finish your sentence it lunges towards you, the person now on top of you, you wham your head forward getting in a head butt before knocking them over, they stick their hand up to try and grab your face but you stretch your head back and hold their face down. in defense, they slobber on your hand, catching you totally by surprise. "WHAT THE FUCK DUDE-" before getting pushed down once more, and you fought back. this kept on for about 20 minutes, you got slammed down a few times and ended up with a couple of bruises and scratches but you also had your fair share of fights, sucker punching him a new times, body slamming him a bunch, and giving him a bloody nose to the point you both were in a grappling hold, out of breath and staring at each other with intense gazes, waiting for the other to move. you eventually admitted defeat before letting go and slumping onto the ground. "m'kay.. you win.. fuck." You touched the blood from the scratch marks and hissed before the other person slumped down too, mumbling to themselves. that's when you recognized the voice.

"HOLY FUCK YOU'RE.. YOU'RE THAT DUDE WHO WAS ON THAT PHONE AIN'T YA?" Shocked by the screaming he flinched but nodded frantically " 'm Billy!" you didn't know if this was the beer kicking in, or if this was real. "SO WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOIN' HERE?" you said before standing up. He didn't respond, only mumbled. You ignored it but then heard your friends pulling into the driveway. You looked out the attic window before sprinting down the steps but you went back up to say one thing. "Don't you go nowhere! I'll be back later." You said before glaring at him and running down the stairs to quickly get cleaned up.

Billy gained 1 new friend!.. and one nasty bruise.

#slashers #black christmas #what the fuck #fanfic #billy lenz #wtf are these tags #ao3 fanfic #no use of y/n #gender netural

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frenchy-lu · 1 year

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Get to Know Me

And tag ten people you wanna get to know better. I got tagged by @squadron-of-damned

Relationship Status: Single (and happily so)

Favorite color: I have so much trouble answering that. I love golden colors, but also greens.

Something I want right now: For my new mattress to arrive.

Song stuck in my head: Dansons la capucine. It’s a French nursery rhyme. I was tending to the nasturtiums on my balcony, and it’s capucine in French so.. yea.

Three favorite foods: I’d say with anything has melted cheese, I’m going to like it. Otherwise, my go-to dish at a French restaurant is a Steak Tartare with fries and salad as side dishes.

Last song I listened to: In my bones - the score

Last thing I googled: “My job here is done” to get the image of the meme. I was commenting that each time we meet the Tribunal in ESO, that’s mostly how the interaction goes.

Dream Trip: Japan, I want to go back, for a full 3 weeks at the very least.

If you had the opportunity to [safely] become a cyborg via body upgrades, would you take it? Yes, absolutely, my body is garbage to the point I worry about the future so as long as the cyborg body allows me the comfort of food, I’ll take the opportunity

tagging: @timesthatneverwere @choccy-zefirka @tiefighter and anyone who wishes to participate.

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landothemuppet · 3 years

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Far Longer Than Forever (p.p)

Word count: 4737

Pairing : peter parker

Request: YES! ANON I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. The Swan Princess is one of my childhood movie and this was so fun to write. I can’t stop listenning the soundtrack now ! I’m so sorry for the time i took to write this, i had so much work to do with school. But it’s over now and i hope you will like this !

N/A: First, gif not mine but i don’t know who i’m gonna credit on this, i have no clue...This is my first Peter Parker x reader and i hope you all will like it! As always, I remind you that English is not my native language. Don’t hesitate to tell me what you think of the fic! Like, reblogs to support. You can Love you all! xx

Taglist: @angeliquekalampoka @harryhollandsgirlfriend @cedricdiggorysimpp - if you want to be notified of all my future writings you can add yourself in my taglist : here

______

As far as you can remember, you've always hated summer. Well, it was partly a lie. You loved the sweltering heat of Queens, the cherry popsicles from Delmar's, not having to worry about what time you had to get up. You liked it but hated the idea of the last two weeks of August.

This year was no exception. You looked at your half-finished suitcase, a grimace on your face. August still meant the same thing, the same routine: having to spend the last three weeks of his vacation with Peter Parker.

summer 2009

Peter Parker had lost his parents very early on, two years ago. He had lived since then with his aunt May and his uncle Ben. It was your mother's idea to introduce you to each other. Aunt May and your mom were friends from college and luckily, they lived in the same neighborhood. Your first meeting with the one who, many years later, would become Spider-Man, took place on his eighth birthday. You were invited to the party when you weren't even at the same school. Aunt May had simply shared his fears about Peter's difficulty making friends after the trauma he had experienced. Your mother, as the perfect friend that she was, had suggested that Peter and you spend time together.

There were 3 kids in total at that birthday party, you, Peter - obviously - and a boy from his school whose mother had forced him to be there, too. It was a fact; you were the only girl and you didn't know Peter at all. Your mother walked up to you, got up to your eye level and whispered

"Can you be nice? May told me she invited Peter's whole class and only this boy came"

You wanted to please your mother so you nodded before approaching the two boys. Peter and his friend were in the corner of the room, their backs turned to the adults. When you tapping the young boy on the shoulder to make you notice by him, he turned to you with a guilty expression. He had buttercream all over the corner of his mouth and he was holding a cupcake in his hand that looked delicious.

“My Aunt May tried to bake a cake, but Uncle Ben bought some cupcakes in anticipation. Do you want one?” Peter asked you in a friendly voice

“Why? Is May's cake not good?

“Uncle Ben says that she is not very good at cooking.”

You let out a little laugh and nodded your head before grabbing the cupcake with a smile. You thanked him and began to taste the little pastry with envy. It was so good! The buttercream was lemony, the cupcake was slightly lemony too but there was a taste you couldn't recognize. You were almost sure you had tasted it before, but you couldn't tell what it was. Peter and the other boy suggested that you go to Peter's room. He wanted to show you the LEGO set his uncle Ben had given him ahead of time and you followed them even though you weren't more excited about the idea.

And you were right. For several minutes, you were pushed aside while the two young boys spoke spiritedly. You complained several times that you wanted to do something else but Peter didn't seem to listen to you, too excited to finally be able to chat with someone who appreciated Star Wars as much as he did.

So you were annoyed and slightly angry with Peter but what broke the camel's back is that you started to not feel so good. Your throat was itching and you felt like your tongue was taking up a lot more space in your mouth, getting drier. Peter gave you a distracted look before his eyes widened. He let go of everything he had in his hands before running to his aunt.

"Aunt May, Aunt May! Y/N's tongue looks like a big, desiccated steak!"

"Peter, don't be rude!" she exclaimed, shocked by her nephew’s words

"No, no come see, she has a huge tongue! I think something is wrong"

Meanwhile, you ran into the bathroom at Peter's reaction. You weren't sure why he had looked at you like that, but you felt that a few things were wrong. In addition, you were more and more thirsty, your eyes also hurt. And that's when you saw your reflection. You were puffy, your tongue had tripled in size, hence this feeling of dryness and discomfort. It was the same with your throat. You started to cry and when May called you through the bathroom door, you fervently opened it.

May and your mother's expression of horror was instantaneous and your mother knew exactly what was causing your condition.

"What did she eat?"

"Nothing..." he tried to escape from being grounded

"Peter, this is very important. What did you eat?"

"We just ate the cupcakes Uncle Ben brought back"

Ben looked at May with guilty eyes. May had put so much effort into Peter's birthday cake and she felt hurt that they had bought some pastries in anticipation. Your mother was impatiently stamping her foot. It was important to know exactly what you had eaten and above all, you shouldn't waste any more time. Peter felt completely helpless. He had only given a cupcake to his guest, that’s all. What was wrong with giving someone a cupcake?

"What were those cupcakes flavor?" your mother said impatiently ...

"With lemon and almonds." he said in a very small voice.

You were panicked. And the eight-year-old that you were was not coping well with stress. Plus, your feeling of being sidelined by Peter and his friend made you feel even worse. So you frowned. You couldn't see a thing but you could feel the torrent of tears escaping your cheeks. You pointed at Peter with rage

"You tried to kill me !!!" you said somehow with your tongue as big as a little tangerine.

"It's not true!"

"Yes! You are a murderer"

And you cried even more before your mother takes you to the emergency room as quickly as possible, apologizing for the scene.

The week later, May forced Peter to apologize for giving you a cupcake, while justifying that he didn't know about your allergy. Your mother forced you to apologize for insulting Peter "a murderer" and accept his apologies.

But you spent the rest of the vacation arguing with the little guy. After all, you didn't want to be friends with a murderer.

Summer 2013

Aunt May and your mom didn't let go, however, and every summer you spent three damn weeks with Peter. The summer of your twelve years, you did not thus escape this eternal masquerade but this year, the tide had turned in your favor.

From the start, you never liked Star Wars. It really wasn't your world. You had always preferred Harry Potter and although Peter had read the books and enjoyed them - which he would never admit to you as that would amount to listing the commonalities you had - he was much more invested in the galactic universe. But on that day, Peter had particularly bothered you. He had first replaced the sugar in your hot chocolate with salt. He kept chanting silly nursery rhymes about you and the downstairs neighbor, insinuating that you were in love: which was not the case. Yes, Peter had been extremely annoying. This time Peter was getting on your nerds by bouncing a small ball against the ceiling as you tried to read your book. Uncle Ben was in the living room watching the sport - you weren't sure exactly which one since it didn't matter to you - so you couldn't go anywhere else to be quiet.

"Peter, stop it."

"Stop what?" he asked by bouncing the ball once more off his ceiling. You could even make out the smirk on his lips.

"That. Stop it! I can't read."

"This is nothing new."

You threw him the first thing you found on his desk, c.e, a banana, which he easily dodged. You groaned in frustration. May and your mother didn't understand when you talked about Peter's attitude towards you. He was a calm child, far too shy at school and interested in everything, especially science. He was looking forward to entering Midletown High School in two years. You hated that nerd side about him. Secretly, you were a little jealous of him for being the smartest in the room.

“I'm gonna hit you so hard you won't know your name anymore”

“ try me, dumbass.”

A few minutes later, he had finally stopped throwing that damn ball, but obviously Peter's boredom was driving him to find everything the most boring thing than the previous one to drive you crazy. This time, he had simply taken his favorite lightsaber - because he had several - and he was poking your shoulder to get your attention.

"Parker, stop!"

"Don't you want to drop this book and watch a movie?"

"What do you want to watch? Star Wars? No thanks ..."

"Oh come on, Y / N! I'm sure you'll like it!"

He patted you on the shoulder once more with his lightsaber.

"Do you want to play this, Parker?" you said before grabbing one of his other lightsabers

"What are you going to do? I'm sure you don't know how to fight with" he mocked.

You have lit the glowing plastic stick and you are placed in the guard position.

"Do you want to bet, knothead?"

He smiled at you and attacked you first. Strangely, this is what most resembled a moment of bond between Peter and you and deep down, you appreciate it. But you also appreciate that possibility of kicking his ass after he's been so irritating. You responded to his lightsaber attacks with ease and joy. It was playful, childish, but it was one of the few times you had fun with Peter. And you really appreciate it. Your two laughs mingled, echoing in the room.

But suddenly, as you were trying to dodge an attack from the brunet, your elbow made contact with his face. Peter's muffled cry of pain echoed and you froze. He was holding his nose with a grimace and when he took his hand away you both noticed in horror that he was bleeding.

"Fuck…"

"Pete..." you started talking

"You blew my nose!" Peter shouted

"I did not do it on purpose!" you defended yourself.

"Of course, you do! You fucking blew my nose!"

"Peter, I swear ..."

But Peter interrupted you by rushing out of his bedroom looking for his aunt who was in the office as she tried to file the important papers, that Ben and her had received this week. You were livid. First, because you didn't mean to hurt Peter on purpose. Second, you couldn't stand the sight of blood and it was literally everywhere. Peter was leaving trails of droplets on the floor of the apartment.

"Aunt May?!? Y/N blew my nose! Damn, I'm bleeding!"

After a brief stint in the ER, the rest of the stay was peaceful as you and Peter avoided each other until the end of the summer.

Summer 2017

Peter was not the Peter you had always known.

Since the death of his uncle Ben, the young man had closed in on himself and was even further away. Always so intelligent and discreet but much more distant. He had stopped teasing you or doing things that got on your nerves. He was minding his own business. And even though you had tried to be there for him, not denying him any of the offers he made to you during your stay ... you found him really ... overwhelmed. Which was still understandable.

But this year was worse than the last. May told your mother that last year Peter got an internship at Stark Industry and attended a seminar in Germany but came back with a black eye. He had been acting most weirdly ever more since then. And you could have witnessed it. In the afternoon, when you were busy, and when it was too hot, when you tried to rest, Peter would disappear for hours. When you caught him sneaking back several times, he made you promise not to tell Aunt May.

And you were starting to have theories about his nighttime getaways. After all, you were 16 and you too had started dating a few boys. But it never really worked. who knows why?! And when you wondered if Peter had a girlfriend, and who she was - he had to have one in view of all his sneaking out - your stomach twisted in a strange feeling. You didn't understand why the thought of Peter having a girlfriend bothered you so much. Over time, you had learned to be friends. It still happened sometimes that you quarreled but the events of the life made you grow up. Your parents had divorced, Peter had lost his uncle. You could tell yourself that you both had grown.

And it was one night when Peter was sneaking back in again that you discovered two secrets.

The first one: He was Spider-Man.

It was around midnight when you heard the sound of the window opening. Since your childhood and this Machiavellian plan of your mother and Aunt May, you had always slept in Peter's room during holiday and more recently in his bed. The noise alerted you and you got up in a sitting position. But the only thing you saw was a foot, placed on this said window, closing it gently. How the hell was that possible?

You were ready to scream but your gut told you to look up at the ceiling. A figure hung on it and you were paralyzed. Were you having one of those weird experiences called sleep paralysis? Delicately, silently, you grabbed the first blunt object within reach. A chemistry book that Peter seemed particularly fond of. The figure stepped on the ceiling as you were paralyzed. The form turned to land on the ground and then stood up, still with its back to you. You got up gently from Peter's bed and walked over. The man in the suit whose color you couldn't see took off his mask and you hit the air in an attempt to shoot him down. Peter turned around so quickly and blocked your gesture easily, like a reflex.

"What the ..."

"Bloody hell".

You both said at the same time. Your big surprised eyes mirrored Peter's. The curly man let go of your hand with an apologetic expression as you walked away from your friend. You turned on the bedside lamp before you discovered his blue and red costume. A very recognizable costume since it was that of Spider-Man. You winced, a look of judgment and incomprehension on your face. Not bothering to look at his face covered with bruises and traces of blood.

"What the ... are you sneaking out to go to a costume party?"

"What?! No…No Y/N I’m…”

“Spider-Man? Great costume by the way” you joked.

For a moment, you completely forgot that you just saw your friend glued upside down to the ceiling. Peter looked at you a little jaded, by the tone of your voice your guess was far from a sincere question but more of a mockery. And right now, the young man needed to be honest with you. He needed you.

"But, I am."

"Yeah that's it. And I slept with the Winter Soldier. You can't imagine what he can do with his metal arm."

Peter cut you off by pulling a web with his web shooter, tying your hands. The feel of the canvas was unpleasant, sticky but above all resistant. You let out a little cry of surprise, not powerful enough to pass the walls of Peter's room. Your eyes looked like two big golf balls, realizing that your friend was telling the truth.

"Omg, You're Spider-Man" you almost spoke too loud.

"Yes and don't make me web your mouth. May doesn't have to know"

"damn, peter. What happened to your face!"

“yeah about that…I need you Y/N, please…”

And without warning, Peter squeezed the spider in the middle of his costume, at chest level. He winced at the action revealing his bruised chest. He staggered a bit from the action, unsure of his legs and the pain in his sides fierce. You might see several bruises and cuts on your friend's body. You were having difficulty swallowing before you told him you were going to the bathroom to get what you needed. Before leaving the room, he made you promise to be discreet and not tell May anything if she ran into you. When you walk back into Peter's room, he's sitting half-lying on his bed, grimacing. You sit next to him, your heart pounding. You never noticed that he was so built. After all, as a superhero, he had to keep fit. But you couldn't deny that it intimidated you. Your cheeks were burning with embarrassment and a desire you never knew before. He had his eyes closed, as if trying to make the pain go away. And there, looking at him, you found him pretty. he was so cute that you couldn't help but run your hand through his curls to signal your presence and soothe him a bit. But Peter already knew you were there. He had heard your footsteps, he had smelled your scent, a sweet scent he had grown used to in his later years. He sighed softly, more relaxed. You started to clean the few shallow wounds.

"Does it hurt?" you asked quietly

"Mhmm no, not really."

"Did you win?"

"Ouch..No. Not tonight."

"Sorry." you said more for your gesture rather than the fact that he didn't win the fight against the bad guys.

"No, it's perfect ... it's just a little sensitive"

You smiled but something was wrong. A feeling you've never felt before. You've finished cleaning up Peter's wounds, but your gaze has darkened. As you were about to get up, the brunette gently grabbed your wrist to hold you back. He could hear your calm breathing and yet your heart was racing. He could feel the heat on your cheeks. He too felt that the tension was at its height. Your mind was muddled, he didn't know why, he wasn't a telepath, but he could see it, feel it. Your body betrayed your mind.

"Y/N, what is it?"

"I..I don't know." you lied.

"You can tell me everything."

"I ... Well…Seeing you like this ... makes me ... makes me realize that I ... I'm afraid of losing you."

"You won't lose me ... I promise"

You are ashamed of your vulnerable state. How did you go from hating this boy to having an overwhelming fear of losing him? You looked at those chocolate eyes in confusion and distress. You were now fully aware that the little neighborhood spider was none other than your childhood friend. The one you once loved to hate, tease, fight with over trivia. He was also on the youtube videos, who stopped cars with his bare hands.

“Y/N… you won’t lose me, I promise.”

Peter dared to walk slowly towards you and in a surge of courage, one of his hands circled your burning cheek, his lips rested on yours. The brunette had always had a crush on you without actually admitting it. After all, you had known each other since you were children but... your relationship had been rather confrontational. But for two years now, everything had changed for him. He appreciated more and more your little arguments, your teasing. His thoughts would sometimes turn darker when you lick your lips or when your fingers scratched that point behind your ear, when you were a little stressed.

Your lips moved between them in a harmonious dance and you were now clinging desperately to Peter's slightly sweaty brown curls. Your heart was pounding at a speed close to the point of no return, reluctant to stop suddenly in the face of this overstimulation. But all good things came to an end and you slowly walked away. You bit your lip to get the taste of Peter's back. Your mind wandered, lost in the haze of rushing feelings.

"You..you should rest ..."

You ended up pulling away, swallowing hard. That night you didn't sleep. You have studied every facial feature of Peter, thinking of every event since your friendship. The next day, you fooled that nothing had happened. Too scared of what that kiss meant to you.

Summer 2025

It all happened so quickly. After that summer, the summer of your kiss, you promised yourself that you understood your feelings towards Peter. You weren't going to the same high school and even though you were both on social media, you never dared to contact him. You needed time.

But you haven't had this time. Peter became full-time Spider-Man and then the aliens came to earth, again. The threat of Thanos hovered and within moments, days, hours ... you were gone under his snap.

When you returned to your childhood apartment, you were alone. Well, alone in front of the family who lived in this place now. The man in his forties simply believed you were a drug-hunting teenager squatter. Five damn years had passed. 5 years where your mother had a new life when you had been eclipsed. You were distraught, alone and it was by happy coincidence that you found May at the F.E.A.S.T project. It was a relief for you to find a familiar face again. She had suggested that you come and live in her new temporary apartment, allowing you to finish high school without having to move to the other end of the United States, with your mother. You declined your offer. You wanted to fend for yourself. And surprisingly, you did pretty well.

To be exact, Mr. Delmar was looking for a student to work in his store and was kind enough to greet you in the bedroom of one of his daughters who had gone to college. By the greatest of luck, you've never seen Peter. Or rather, you managed to avoid it for an entire year. You had caught a glimpse of him one day, trying to speak Italian to get a travel adapter and a dual headphone adapter. Did you feel foolish thinking that after so long - could we consider those 5 years to be 5 concrete years? - would it still focus on the kiss you shared? After all, you got away from him after that. And then, everything went in a state of madness.

Every time you turned on the television, you learned that elemental monsters had attacked a different country. They had first started with Mexico and then moved to Europe. Italy, Prague and then London. A certain Mysterio seemed to be taking care of this matter, but you couldn't help but think of Peter. May told you he was supposed to go to Italy. In fact, every time she went to Delmar's for a sandwich, she gave you an update on her nephew's trip. But it wasn't the craziest.

Upon his return ... Spider-man's identity was revealed. You had watched in horror the video of Mysterio, which appeared on the Daily Buggle newspaper, accusing Peter of wanting to be the new Iron-Man. You were listening to J. Jonah Jameson falsely accusing Peter of being a murderer. You knew Peter, and there was no way he had done such an act. The video was bogus, you were sure. When you tried to reconnect that summer, you noticed Peter's girlfriend. Michelle Jones and ... and that's what kept you from approaching him. He was already supported. He had his best friend, Ned. His girlfriend, MJ. And he had May. It was enough, wasn't it?

It was the following year, after a new incredible adventure that you met again.

You worked at the store in the evening. Mr Delmar had asked you to help him out urgently because his youngest daughter had a health problem. You accepted with pleasure. You had offered to babysit his daughter but the loving father he was wanted to be with her. And it was precisely this evening that a thug decided to steal the fund from you.

You were at gunpoint with your hands up in the air when you saw a red and black mass fall behind the thug.

"Hey buddy, I think the bank is across the street"

Spider-Man tapped the thief on the shoulder and dodged a punch.

"But I think I'll arrest you anyway if you went to the bank. You don't seem like a nice guy." Peter joked.

You were paralyzed as your friend, your best friend if you were honest, chained or avoided them with agility. You swallowed hard, unable to move or run away. A gunshot rang out and you smelled a scared little vintage. Peter squeezed the barrel of the gun in his hand, deviating from his course. It made sense now to say that he had simply defended himself against the assault. After a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, Peter stared the offender against a fridge door, immobilizing him. He then turned to you, oblivious to your identity at the time.

"Are you okay there?"

"Peter!"

You didn't give him the chance to realize and you rushed into his arms, hugging him so tight to feel the comfort of his body against yours.

"Uh, yeah, you're welcome. Cuddles are nice but ..."

He paused for a moment and his automated eyes widened. He knew his perfume. The flowery, sweet scents that he had missed so much. Is this possible?

"Y/N?"

You let go of him and immediately put his mask back on. Adrenaline was controlling your actions and god damn it, you needed that touch. You kissed him, bluntly. Your lips crushed against his in impatience, in ardor, but too bad. You needed to feel it against you, to regain the feeling that you had felt, years ago. After a few seconds, you felt Peter's hands encircle your waist, pulling you closer to him. Your heart was exploding, the ardor was present in your kiss. You were even frustrated that you couldn't grab her brown curls with full hands, settling for only the base of her hair. You let out a moan before pulling away abruptly. He had a girlfriend.

"I… I'm sorry. I… Sorry, I didn't mean… MJ… and… please don't blame me."

Peter silenced you with another kiss, shorter this time but so good.

“There is no MJ .... Just you and me ... Far Longer Than Forever”

You looked at him hopefully and then burst out laughing after his words.

"I didn't know you were so romantic, Parker"

"Shut your mouth."

"Make me"

"You are impossible."

"But obviously, you like"

He was going to say something to nag you, he was looking for it but you caught him off guard, placing your lips on his again. You could feel his smile in the kiss and you couldn't help but do the same. Anyone living in the neighborhood present in the street would have a view of Spider-Man kissing the student cashier from Delmar. But you couldn't care less. You had waited too long and the joy you were feeling now was so intense, you didn't want to stop feeling this. It is reluctantly that Peter moved away from you apologizing for the fact that he had to go on patrol again.

"Go save the Spider-Man neighborhood"

"Only if you promise me you'll be there when I get back."

"I was thinking of going to say goodnight to May instead ... But if you want, I have a sleeping bag in the storeroom."

"You are incorrigible .... See you later ..."

"See you later."

You smiled, in a misty state of bliss as Peter disappeared from view. This time, you weren't planning to escape, you wanted to fall into the webs of Peter Parker. You closed the store after the police visit and headed to May's flat. It was late but with her kindness she welcomed you with open arms.

This summer ... was the best in years but the others to come were going to be even more wonderful.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fic #tom holland #tom holland fic

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absolutepokemontrash · 3 years

Note

You don't need to write this if you dont want too because it's up to you but this is something wholsome

WHAT IF L!MC M!M & BBY A!MC BECOME BABIES AND THERE EVEONES HAS TO CARE FOR THEM,

I apologize for having such horrible writing and grammer. I never payed attention in school, nor could I afford to pay attention 👉😎👉

Bro I feel you on the not paying attention in school thing. Fear not, dearest asker, ask for demon babies, and since I am a merciful writer, you shall receive.

Oh Shit, Half-Demon Babies are Running Amok Send Diapers and Help-

Mini summary for the casual reader, L!MC is Lucifer’s half demon child who got summoned into the Devildom to be one of the human exchange students, M!MC is Mammon’s half demon kid, and A!MC is Asmo’s. Let’s get to the fic!

Ah, what a relaxing day... Lucifer was sitting back in his desk chair, enjoying a nice glass of Demonus and listening to one of his favourite cursed vinyls. He had done a damn good job on his work earlier and Diavolo had insisted there was no more work to be done and he could have the weekend all to himself.

Of course, his brothers were still a factor that could have ruined his me-time... on any other weekend! Satan had just gotten a new encyclopedia to read, so he wouldn’t be causing any trouble, Beel and Belphie were going to take that Devildom food tour, Mammon and M!MC were planning on spending the entire weekend shopping, Asmo and A!MC were going up to the human world on Saturday and staying until Sunday, and Levi... He got a sudden burst of inspiration for his Animal Crossing Island and most likely wouldn’t be leaving his room for the next month. Lastly, L!MC wouldn’t be causing any problems, his child would probably spend their time with him rambling about musicals or anime they had seen, and Lucifer found their intense interest very adorable.

Ah... peace and quiet...

...

...why did Lucifer hear crying?

There, standing in the entrance hall of the House of Lamentation, was Solomon, holding three screaming babies.

What, and I cannot stress this enough, THE HELL?!

“Ah, Lucifer,” Solomon attempted to wave hello, but needing to continue to bounce one of the babies on his hip kind of hindered the gesture, not that Lucifer wanted a wave at that moment. “I’m sure you have questions.”

After everyone had gathered into the living room, Solomon explained how a spell gone awry had hit L!MC, M!MC, and A!MC with the effect of turning the three into the screaming infants that stood (or... awkwardly sprawled out) in front of them.

On the bright side, the spell only had a timespan of roughly two days, so they wouldn’t be stuck like that forever.

Everyone sat in silence for a few minutes (save for the babies, who were still either crying or incoherently babbling) as they processed that information. Lucifer, ever the flawless older brother and leader, stood up and clapped his hands together once.

“Alright then, everyone cancel your weekend plans, we need to deal with this.”

Lucifer’s dearest little brothers all whined in protest, Satan in particular. “They’re not our kids, why do Belphie, Beel, Levi, and I need to cancel our plans?!”

“Satan,” Lucifer said sternly. “You don’t remember this, but it took six people to take care of one of you. The kids may only be half demons but there are three of them. We need all hands on deck. Besides, if you all want someone to blame, blame Solomon.”

Everyone turned and levelled their practically murderous glared at the sorcerer, who suddenly pulled baby A!MC into his lap and began to rock them back and forth.

“I have never felt more unsafe.” Solomon laughed nervously. “But you wouldn’t kill me while I’m holding my not-child would you?”

Asmo stomped over and snatched A!MC away from Solomon. “I can’t believe you- ACK! A!MC! Stop drooling!”

A!MC had a long trail of drool coming out of their mouth which caused Asmo to shriek and hold A!MC at arms length away. “Stop that! That’s gross, A!MC, you know better.”

The adorable baby continued to babble and drool.

Mammon picked up M!MC, who almost immediately stopped crying upon seeing Mammon’s watch, they began making grab hands at it. “Ah, ya want the watch?”

M!MC squealed in delight as Mammon dangled the watch above them, Mammon was delighted that his little brat still had their expensive taste, even as a baby. “Hey, look at me! I’m doin’ pretty good! Suck it, Asmo!”

As Asmo and Mammon bickered, Lucifer took the time to look at L!MC, they pulled at Lucifer’s tie and hummed to themselves. They were mind numbingly cute despite the screeching they were doing earlier. The sight tugged at the cold spot where Lucifer’s heart should have been, he had missed this part of his child’s life... maybe just that weekend he’d get a chance to-

“Solomon where do you think you’re going?” Lucifer was pulled from his thoughts when he noticed the shifty bastard trying to make his escape. “You’re staying to help manage this nonsense.”

—————

A!MC may have been an absolute ray of sunshine normally, but as a baby, they definitely lived up to the term demon-spawn.

A!MC would scream, cry and pitch a fit if they didn’t get what they wanted immediately, not that they had any way of articulating what they wanted because they were a god damn baby! Asmo and Solomon were at the point where they were just holding stuff out to A!MC to see if it would make them stop crying.

“Come on butterfly, don’t you like this... antique perfume bottle?” Asmo asked, A!MC took one look at it, then burst into flames and started wailing again. “For the love of my father WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!”

Now there were two sobbing messes in the room, and one was on fire. Solomon quickly magically took care of A!MC’s little fire problem (the baby was fiiiiiiine, demon babies light themselves on fire all the time!), picked A!MC up, sat down on Asmo’s bed, and snapped his fingers. Tiny balls of light gently floated into the air around the three, Asmo looked up from his pity party upon hearing A!MC stop their crying.

“See, you still like my magic, even as a baby, right A!MC?” Solomon asked, A!MC looked around in silent wonder, trying to reach up and touch the lights.

“Oh Solomon, this almost makes me forgive you for screwing up my weekend plans...” Asmo sighed in relief, he sat next to Solomon and pulled A!MC into his lap. “Not very colourful though, is it? Let me fix that.”

Asmo smiled as his own magic added streaks of colour, it was like their very own private showing of the northern lights. A!MC had on one of those goofy baby smiles that can make even the grumpiest person smile back.

Solomon and Asmo shaped some of the lights into shapes and animals, Asmo let a pink butterfly land on A!MC’s nose, much to their adorable delight.

“And that one’s a bird, and that one’s a giraffe,”

“That’s an alpaca.”

“Sorry, an alpaca with a weirdly long neck, oh! And a sheep!” Asmo looked down at his lap where A!MC sat and tickled their sides. “Everyone likes sheep!”

He then quickly shaped a ball of light into a scorpion and made it scuttle into A!MC’s lap. “But I have to say, scorpions are the best.”

The fifth born sighed in contentment as their sweet little hellspawn continued to watch the magic show. Never in his life did Asmodeus ever think he’d be this happy holding a baby, usually babies were things he thought should be handled with hazmat suits, but not at that moment. His little butterfly truly did have him wrapped around their finger.

“Asmo, hey, Asmo,” Asmo looked over at Solomon, who had a glowing triangle over one of his eyes. “Would you like to join my secret society?”

“Solomon, you are ruining the moment.”

——————

“C’mon kiddo! Eat your damn food!” Mammon once again tried to shove the spoon into his kid’s mouth with the same result as the 50 previous attempts.

“YUCKY!” M!MC shouted and slapped the spoon away.

“Here,” Beel took the spoon from Mammon. “Maybe it’s yucky like they said.”

Beel ate what was on the spoon, then smiled brightly. “You can really taste the mango!”

“See bud..? Beel likes it.” Mammon gestured at Beel, who was eating the entire jar of baby food as Belphie watched in amusement. He was such an asset to the team. “Beel! They need to eat!”

“Fine, let me try.” Belphie grabbed another spoon, and waved it in M!MC’s face. “Here comes the airplane... whoosh... whoosh...”

M!MC didn’t budge, Belphie knitted his eyebrows and rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine, be that way.”

Levi pushed open the door to the kitchen, and upon seeing the scene before him, immediately turned and tried to leave. “Nope! Food isn’t worth getting spit up all over me-”

Mammon lunged forward, grabbed the back of Levi’s jacket and practically yanked him into the kitchen, he slapped a spoon into his hand and smiled. “C’mon, do a favour for your super great big brother!”

The third born looked at M!MC, who defiantly stared back at him, the baby had the upper hand and the little brat knew it. Babies were so much cuter in anime...

Levi nervously stepped forward and held out the spoon like a weapon. “O-okay M-M-M!MC... you need to eat your food... pls... pls eat.”

M!MC said nothing, they only did what most babies did.

...

They spun their head 90 degrees until the back of their head was all Levi could see.

Everyone in the kitchen stood in complete silence, until Mammon jumped a foot in the air and started screaming bloody murder. “MY BABY!”

He dove forward and scooped M!MC up in his arms, the baby, obviously freaked out by the sudden loud noise, had begun to cry.

“It’s okay! It’s okay! Uh... uh...” Mammon looked around frantically. “Hush little baby don’t say a word... papas gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird don’t sing, papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring... and if that diamond ring is brass, butitwon’tbebecauseyouroldmanwouldn’tgetcheatedlikethat-”

M!MC spun their head back to its correct position, but their crying sounds were now several octaves lower... It sounded like if someone put a baby in the Darth Vader mask but without the weird breathing sounds...

Mammon looked to Belphie. “I’m blankin’ on nursery rhymes! Ya hafta know some kid songs!”

Belphie, after being put on the spot, suddenly forgot every single nursery rhyme and lullaby any of his brothers had ever sung to him. Oh! A song popped into his head! He could sing that!

“Lizzie Borden took an axe, gave her mother forty whacks, when she saw what she had done, she gave her father forty one-”

“Not that one!” Mammon squeaked, holding M!MC closer to him. M!MC’s voice had returned to normal, the next problem is that they were only speaking in infernal. “Somethin’ else!”

“There was an old lady who swallowed a fly,” Beel began to sing. “I don’t know why she swallowed that fly... I forgot the rest of the song...”

“Dammit... Leviiiiii!” Mammon wheezed, desperately trying to calm the angrily growling M!MC. “Sing! Sing anything!”

“A-anything?” Only one song came to mind. “Uh um... With the doors of heaven and Hell barred, there is no other but the guard, Master of the Hellish Yard...”

Mammon lit up and nodded like Levi had just offered him a million Grimm. “Aw hell yeah! This song!”

He handed M!MC to Beel and began to dance and sing next to Levi, who had really gotten into the song as well!

“With those sins that you've committed, If you pay you'll be acquitted, and your crimes all permitted,” the two paused for dramatic effect before both belting out the best line in the song.

“ONLY ONES WITH CASH DO WELL, WELL AT LEAST IN HELL!”

As Levi and Mammon continued to sing, M!MC became so entranced by the dance, that they stopped their demonic babbling and just watched the second and third born dance and sing the English cover of an old vocaloid song. Belphie and Beel made brief confused eye contact to make sure the other twin was seeing the same thing.

The duo finished the song and took a bow, Beel lightly tapped M!MC’s chubby baby hands together to make it look like they were clapping. It was enough for Mammon and Levi.

“Thank you, thank you,” Mammon said. “We’ll be here forever, next show ain’t free.”

“We should sing The Tailor on Enbizaka next!”

“Levi! No! That song is like... seven minutes long!”

“Hey, morons,” Belphie stuck his thumb at M!MC. “They still haven’t eaten.”

Mammon’s triumphant expression dropped right to the floor. “Ah fuck...”

——————

“Satan, where’s L!MC-” Lucifer looked up at the ceiling of Satan’s room and his jaw dropped. “WHAT ARE THEY DOING UP THERE?!”

“I can’t get them down!” Satan hissed back.

L!MC. L!MC the BABY. They were on the ceiling. They were sitting upside down on the ceiling like it was an average Friday. Lucifer was too old for this shit...

“L!MC.” Lucifer held out his arms, L!MC squinted at him, that’s when Lucifer remembered L!MC was practically blind without their glasses. “L!MC, it’s your father, come here.”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried calling them down like that?!” Satan spat as he quickly ran a hand through his hair.

Lucifer shot a glare at Satan, then Lucifer heard something that nearly made his (lack of) heart stop. Oh no- L!MC was yawning-

L!MC yawned and suddenly detached from the ceiling. Lucifer and Satan both dove forward to catch L!MC, which culminated in one of Satan’s piles of books falling down, but with L!MC safe and sound.

“Damn it.” Satan grumbled as Lucifer shifted to properly hold L!MC. “This is going to take forever to clean...”

“That was clean?” Lucifer raised an eyebrow as L!MC began to fuss slightly.

Satan growled and rolled his eyes. “Yes, it was clean thank you very much. I knew exactly where everything was.”

The cat that unofficially ruled the House of Lamentation pranced into Satan’s room like it didn’t have a care in the world, it began to bat at one of the loose papers that had been scattered around the floor. Detective Toe Beans, you’re an esteemed detective, and technically RAD’s mascot, stop that!

Satan scooped up the cat and began to put the books back in the pile, when Lucifer noticed a familiar, beat-up old book lying near the bottom of the pile.

“Ah, I remember this book,” Lucifer leaned down and picked it up, showing the cover to L!MC, who didn’t seem very interested and continued petting the fur part of Lucifer’s jacket. “It’s good for a bedtime story, right L!MC?”

Lucifer tucked the book under his arm and turned to leave when Satan practically shot upwards. “If you think you can just take that out of my room, you’re completely delusional.”

“Are you seriously going to whine about getting a bedtime story for L!MC?”

“CAT!” L!MC looked over Lucifer’s shoulder and reached for Detective Toe Beans. “CAT!”

“Yes L!MC, cat.” Lucifer whispered to them, then turned back to Satan. “And if I’m remembering correctly, I used to read this to you. Do you really want to deprive poor L!MC of bedtime stories from me?”

“Pff... deprive...” Satan rolled his eyes and huffed. “I’d be saving them. You were the only one who never did any voices for the characters, I was bored to sleep.”

Satan walked forward and swiped the book from Lucifer. “If anyone’s reading L!MC a bedtime story, it should be me. I’m twice the storyteller you’ll ever be.”

Lucifer scoffed. “Ridiculous. We’ll both read L!MC a story and they can tell us who did best when they get back to normal.”

“Fine by me.”

The three (four if you count Bean) were soon seated on the couch in Lucifer’s room. Lucifer took the first story.

Satan listened along and absentmindedly pet Bean, hearing a story he had heard over and over again had managed to bring back memories of a time where he had significantly less control over his wrath. Every night he’d demand a bedtime story or he’d throw a tantrum unlike anything the Devildom had ever seen.

The eldest was always there to swoop in and read Satan a story whenever the little ball of seething rage looked ready to kill the unfortunate brother who told him it was bedtime.

It had gotten to the point that Satan could recite most of the stories in the book completely by heart. He chuckled under his breath as he remembered the time he matter of factly told Lucifer that he’d be reading him the bedtime story that night and proceeded to pretend to read the story of The Hydra and the Pufferfish. He hadn’t actually learned to read, much to Lucifer’s dismay, Satan just memorized what to say and when to turn the pages.

Though, it was apparently impressive enough at the time to warrant a head pat from Lucifer.

The fourth born leaned closer to Lucifer to get a better look at the book’s illustrations. They were always slightly off and strange looking, much like the pictures in the Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark book that L!MC had given Satan for his birthday.

Lucifer abruptly stopped reading.

“Why’d you stop?” Satan looked up at Lucifer, then over at L!MC. Aw... Satan didn’t even get a chance to read...

“Our audience has fallen asleep.” Lucifer stifled a yawn and prepared to close the book, Satan quickly shoved his hand on the page to stop him.

“You started reading,” Satan looked away and grumbled. “So at least finish the story...”

Lucifer smirked and opened the book back up. “If you insist, Satan.”

————————

Yayyyyy! Babies! I’m sure the three get back to normal by Monday... hopefully...

Here’s a link to the song Levi and Mammon are singing!

I hope you all enjoyed! As of the time I’m posting this, the next set of Lessons 1-5 Headcanons will be out tomorrow at 8:30 pm EST.

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fluffy-ami · 3 years

Note

hewwo!! umm do you happen to have any lee levi (from obey me ofc lol) hcs you want to share?? i love him so very much and i don't really see that much content of him around here 😭

A/N: Aww, hello, sweetie pie! Of course I have some hcs for our hardcore otaku third-born! Sometimes I think that I was born to say

‘‘ *literally any character that i like* t-word content where ಠ_ಠ‚‚

Leviathan 🎮

Okay, this is a tradition where I just want to write the first headcannon, but the first thing I say is "OMG EVERYONE SHUT UP I LOVE THIS BOI SO MUCH-"

I said it, now we can move on.

I think that everyone just silently agreed that tickle fights between the sweet demon-brothers are a thing. And of course Levi takes part in them (even when he says he doesn't want to, but he's lying actually lmao)

Okay-okay-okay, I like to think that tickling is Levi's somewhat favourite way of physical affection (atstsitdmbg let's be honest, it's everyone's favourite in that god-damn giant house-) with people who he trusts. He's not much of a "huggy" person, even with his brothers, but tickles are just fine. They make him laugh, feel tingly and warm. And loved. Even if it's Mammon "torturing" the hell out of him.

"Eeewww, normies are not allowed to touch me", but they're his favourite normies and they know it, this is fine 👍🏻

Time to talk about his worst spots! I think that Levi is very ticklish on his sides, neck, ribs and under his knees.

Mammon and MC are the ones who attack our Mr. Dark-and-Moody the most XD

Levi doesn't want to go to bed? Tickles. Levi doesn't want to wake up? Tickles. Levi forgets to eat his dinner? Tickles. Levi talks bad things about himself again? Cuddle pile with all his brothers and MC, and then the literal tickle war.

Sometimes, when Levi feels worse than usual (wohooo, anxiety let's gooo), he comes to Lucifer. His older brother is "actually a very good listener and advicer, even if he's a normie". On one of these days, Leviathan actually said that to his big bro. And Lucy was like: “Was that a "thank you" to your big brother? So nice to hear it from you!” And Levi got playfully wrecked (for the sake of cheer-ups, bois). Of course after a few minutes Lucifer let him go. And he just knows that his little bro is alright, because this big blushy baby quickly jumps back up on his feet, throwing a dramatic “I take back every good thing I said to you earlier!” at Lucifer and retreating to his own room, only making the latter chuckle.

When MC plays video games together with Levi, they just can't help it, they have to use some tickles to distract him and win at least one match 🎮

Leviathan's laugh sounds somewhat awkward, and he always tries to muffle it, because he thinks that it's ugly, but in reality it's not. And Mammon screaming "HOLD HIS WRISTS CAPTAIN, WE NEED TO HEAR IT-" to MC while they're attacking Levi just won't leave my head-

Tickle games/nursery rhymes/baby-talk. Work. Wonders. On. Him.

And yes, our otaku-boy can't handle compliments ✨

It's MC who always says sweet and childish things while tickling him. And the tickling alone is enough to make Levi's face turn pink, but with MC he straight-up becomes a tomato. And if after a tickle fight with his favourite human Leviathan accidently runs into some of his brothers, they always look at his face, giggle knowingly and they're like: "...You good my guy?"

LEVI ACCIDENTLY SUMMONING LOTAN WHILE BEING TICKLED OKAY NOAH I'M SORRY BUT IT BECAME CANON FOR ME AND I'M SCREAMING–

A/N: I have many silly things in my head, but I don't want to write too much here XD

So, I hope that you liked those! Thanks for the request, and don't forget to stay hydrated and take care about yourself! 🎮✨

#obey me #lee!leviathan #leviathan #tickle headcanons #tickling #my stuff #🌸soft noah🌸#i hope you don't mind me giving you this tag #i'm too shy to talk to people #but at least i can give good people the content they like (^._.^)ﾉ💖

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cinderedrose · 2 years

Text

woohoo more au writing featuring a touch starved protagonist and a touch repulsed author q^q

Renier lay curled into themselves on the slab in their cell. It sucked the heat from their body and was simply unwelcoming in general, though it was their best option for a bed and they rarely left. They lost count of the days from when Malak told them their identity; they didn’t believe him, but the thought itself was eating their soul. They’ve had a constant headache since he told them, Renier always got a headache when Revan comes up. It was quite irritating, to say the least.

After some time, they stopped engraving poor drawings of the Taris cityscape and portraits of Malak into the wall, Renier got bored and they ran out of ideas. They never were good at art anyways. They substituted by occasionally singing some nursery rhymes to themself on their sleeping spot, damn thing was too cold to ever be a bed. Sometimes the guards would get irritated at their estranged howling, speaking it has been at least two days since they enabled a sound dampening unit on the violet force shield. The downside is that now they couldn’t hear any visitors come near and they would have to actually sit up and look.

Renier felt the shield go down, and they unfurled themself and met Malak’s eyes. He wasn’t wearing his mask, much to their delight. They found it much more enjoyable talking to a scar instead of metal. They also flashed a wry grin when they noticed it was him. Renier rubbed the dark circles under their eyes as Malak spoke,

“I understand we aren’t on good terms, Revan, though I have thought deeply and my techs have three conclusions for the use of your implants.”

“My name isn’t Revan,” Reneir muttered, moving to their feet. They stepped close to the man, resisting the urge to wrap their arms around them and beg to be held. Beg to be loved, and noticed. They have been alone for so long…

“You’re right, it isn’t,” Malak replied coolly. He moved a hand to Renier’s face, holding the left side of their jaw. They leaned into his hand, shutting their eyes and relishing in his touch as a starved dog takes in their first meal.

“What do you mean?” They asked, cracking their eyelids open, Malak moved his hand up the side of their skull, Renier grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand closer.

“Tell me how Evan Skirata feels when you speak it,” he demanded. They nodded and repeated the name, it felt natural rolling off their tongue, and they would happily say it again if those two words hadn't intensified their migraine. Renier winced, and instinctively pulled Malak into an embrace. They buried their face into his chest, squeezing their eyes shut in hopes to block out their headache.

“Is everything alright?” He asked, startled by the random hug.

“Just… Just a headache,” they said, turning their head to listen to his heartbeat. “Happens when I think too hard about the past…”

Malak’s gaze darkened as he ran a hand over the cybernetics poking through their neck and shoulders. He wrapped his other arm around the small of their back and spoke, “I will send you to the Medcenter to get these examined and hopefully Removed.” The pain in their skull eased slightly and their face relaxed. Malak tried to pull away from Renier’s hold on him, though they wrapped their arms around his midsection tighter.

“Stay with me… please. Just a little longer,” they mumbled into his armor. Malak faltered, and his heartbeat quickened, but he complied. He ran his hand up their skull again, combing through their ebony locks with his fingers. Renier’s breathing slowed, as they held the man close. His heart rang like a song, a constant sound they would listen to forever if they could.

“Is there a reason behind this?” Malak pressed. He looked up and noticed Renier’s crooked engravings on the wall. He flashed a smile that curved his now rosy cheeks upwards. He liked the idea of Renier thinking of him. They never answered his question, feeling too exhausted to even crack their eyes open.

“Mmph,” They muttered, leaning their body weight into his unmoving stance. They knew it wouldn’t bother him, they’re small. They have a lanky figure and stand barely past five-foot three inches. They were taken very easily by the Sith. Malak held Renier close, stroking their hair allowing them to doze off onto someone that was much warmer than the bare metal slab. Sure it was a mistake of Renier to allow them to fall asleep in a sith’s arms, but they were tired… and it was a nice feeling being held again.

#i will tag later #like omg im really tired rn

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jaskierswolf · 4 years

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Promptpromptprompt Geralt yells relentlessly at Jaskier bc he's scared that Jaskier has got too close to him until Jaskier storms off. Jaskier, ready with so many great insults and comebacks, returns with "aND aNOtHER ThING" ready on his lips until he overhears Geralt monologuing sadly to Roach, too enveloped in his own sadness and self hatred to notice his presence, bc no he doesn't know why he shouted at Jaskier and yes he knows it wasn't fair and yes you can stop judging me now please

Jaskier was starting to get worn down. He’d been travelling with Geralt for over a decade and he’d always enjoyed their adventures. It wasn’t every year, sometimes he wouldn’t see the witcher for a few years at a time but the last three years they’d met up like clockwork just outside Oxenfurt.

Only this year Geralt had really left his manners behind at Kaer Morhen. He’d been unbearable. Jaskier couldn’t even order them both a drink without Geralt grumbling about coin or quality or the fact he could order his own damn drink. Jaskier had ‘accidentally’ knocked Geralt’s mead all over the witcher’s lap after that one.

Tonight Geralt was taking umbrage with the way Jaskier had set up the camp whilst he’d been hunting. Despite the fact they’d had this routine for the best part of ten years, Geralt had suddenly decided that Jaskier knew shit all about camping.

“For fuck’s sake, Jaskier!” The witcher spat, baring his fangs in a way that should have terrified Jaskier but in all honesty he found it a little bit sexy.

“Oh what have I done now? Forget to angle the shelter towards the dying moonlight? Use four logs instead of three? Perhaps I forgot to pray to the forest spirits for their blessing?” Jaskier put his hands on his hips.

Geralt’s mouth snapped closed and he practically growled at Jaskier which just made him go weak at the knees.

“Shut up.”

“That’s what I thought. Now stop your grumbling and let’s eat.” Jaskier rolled his eyes and perched on the log next to Geralt.

Their legs brushed together as he shuffled trying to get comfortable. There was a twig prodding him in the arse and it was fucking annoying. Geralt snarled and jumped up, glaring fiercely down at Jaskier.

“Don’t touch me.”

Jaskier sighed and pressed his fingers to his forehead, a bad habit that he’d picked up from Geralt. “It was an accident, my dear.”

“And stop calling me that!”

Jaskier flinched. He knew he had a tendency to overuse pet names. He always had but Geralt had never minded before. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, running through his favourite nursery rhyme in his head. “Fine.” He said calmly. “Just. Fine.”

He stood up and brushed the dirt from his trousers. Geralt refused to look at him, stubbornly glaring into the fireplace.

“I’m going for a walk.” Jaskier muttered. “I’ll take the crossbow if you don’t mind. It’s dark and I’d rather not get killed.”

Geralt just grunted so Jaskier pulled the bow and a handful of bolts from Roach’s saddlebags and headed out into the trees. “Stupid, idiotic witcher,” He grumbled as he kicked a stick. “Thinks he’s so great. ‘Ooh I’m Geralt of Rivia and I’m a scary monster. I don’t need anyone and the last thing I want is someone needing me’” He lowered his voice for the last bit, imitating Geralt’s gruff voice.

He looked up at the stars shining through the trees. “Except he sort of does need someone.”

He ran his hand through his hair with a sigh then ran a finger along the bow string. It wasn’t as comforting as the strings on his lute but he made do. “He needs me. I’m the only fucking friend he has. I didn’t need to set up camp. I didn’t even have to travel with him this year but he found me! I wasn’t exactly going to say no, the bloody git.”

The more he thought about it, the more it angered him. Why was Geralt being such a cock about it when he was the one that had asked Jaskier along this year? It wasn’t as if Jaskier had clung on to him. Those days were long since past.

Fucking bastard.

He stormed back to camp with a bolt in his hand. He wasn’t going to fire it at Geralt, he wasn’t that mad, but he thought waving it about might help make his point. He tripped over a hidden tree root as he neared the clearing and almost stabbed himself in the thigh with the bolt.

“Oh cock!” He cursed and he fell through the trees. He grumbled and carried on, ready to let rip at Geralt.

Geralt was too busy talking to Roach to notice Jaskier’s approach. Jaskier took a deep breath and raised his arms, ready for battle.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Geralt muttered as he stroked Roach’s neck. Jaskier froze and narrowed his eyes at the pair of them. “Yes. I shouldn’t have shouted.”

“Too right.” Jaskier muttered under his breath.

“Stop it, Raoch.” The horse butted the witcher’s face. “I’m just.” Geralt cut him self off with a sigh. “I don’t want to lose him. I don’t want him to realise that I don’t deserve his company.”

Jaskier covered his mouth to prevent himself from squeaking too loudly.

“It’s better if I make him leave. At least I can control that.” Geralt pressed his face into Roach’s mane.

“Fuck that!” Jaskier announced. “I don’t want to leave you, Geralt!”

Geralt spun round, his face redder than the fire. “Fuck. I didn’t mean. I thought.”

“You weren’t bloody thinking!” Jaskier put both hands on his hips. “It’s my choice, Geralt. Not yours!”

“Jaskier.”

“No, witcher. My choice.” He sat down right in the middle of the camp. “I. Am. Staying.”

“But—”

“Just stop yelling at me.” He sighed and finally smiled sheepishly up at Geralt. “Please.”

Geralt chuckled and sat down opposite Jaskier so their knees bumped together. “I’ll try. I’m sorry.”

Jaskier reached out and patted Geralt’s knee. “You’re my best friend and I love you. Just. Just let me stay with you.”

Geralt covered Jaskier’s hand with his and nodded with a warm smile. “You can stay.”

Jaskier heard what Geralt didn’t say.

I want you to stay. _______ Tag list: @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @awitchersbard @innocentcinnamonpun @marvagon @elliestormfound @geraskier-trashh @panerato @moonysourenza @artistsfuneral @victorieschild @hailhailsatan @wherethewordsare @havenoffandoms @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem @electricrituals @geralt-of-riviass @00qtee @kittynannygaming @stinastar @scribblesonmapleleaves @thecomfortofoldstorries @fontegagrilledcheese @anythinggoesfandoms

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #wolfie's witcher writing #Anonymous

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ghostgothgeek · 3 years

Text

Shallow.

Another for the Phic Phight 2021! 4,596 words. Rated T for mean girl shit.

FFN || AO3

Danny finds out why Paulina and Sam actually hate each other. Prompt by Ozone.

I had actually been planning on writing this before it was a Phic Phight prompt, and had even started writing it already! I refuse to believe that Sam would just hate a girl for no reason.

The "Danny and Sam meeting in detention in 7th grade" is a nod to Myaibou's The Lunch Club. I love that being the way the trio met. This author has a lot of other great fics too, I highly recommend!

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“So I’m thinking about organizing a rally against police violence. Would you guys want to join?” Sam asked her two friends at lunch. She was poking at her salad.

“Yeah! Something I’ll actually want to do!” Tucker exclaimed, forcing Sam to fist bump.

“Sweet. How about you Danny?”

“Yeah, I’m in,” Danny popped a fry into his mouth and grinned.

“Awesome! Okay so, I was thinking next weekend at the park. We can make flyers and posters and make an event on social media to get people interested. Would you mind doing that Tucker?” Sam pulled up her checklist on her phone.

“Huh? Yeah sure. Remind me later.”

“Danny, do you think we could maybe have a short appearance from Phantom? I feel like having a celebrity of sorts would really get people excited,” Sam continued. After no reply from Danny, she glanced up at her two friends, noticing they were distracted once again by Paulina. Sam rolled her eyes. “Danny?”

“Uh huh. Sure.”

Sam let out a sigh of frustration. “We could even reveal your secret, make a huge event out of it.”

“Yeah, yeah. I feel you,” Tucker replied.

“And then I can jump off the roof in a pink tutu…” Sam added.

“Sounds good,” Danny sighed and rested his head in his hand.

“Then I’ll mud wrestle my parents in a floral bikini.”

“Yeah that sucks,” Danny replied again.

Sam just groaned, “You guys aren’t even listening to me!”

Danny glanced at her. “Yeah we are! Something about a uh….poster? Environment thing?”

Tucker finally looked at her as well. “Did you say something about you wearing a bikini?”

“Argh! Stop staring at Paulina for two seconds please!” She drummed her fingernails on the table impatiently.

“Wait, Sam’s wearing a bikini? But it’s winter!” Danny replied to Tucker’s comment.

Sam let out a small scream and started packing her stuff up. “Ugh, forget it!”

Noticing Sam was about to leave, Danny put a hand on her shoulder to sit her back down. “No no no, don’t leave Sam! You have our attention.”

“Really? Because it seems to me you two were just making a puddle of drool that would still be less shallow than Paulina.” Sam glared at the girl in question, who was clinging to Dash and trying to get his attention as Kwan put forks up his nose to look like a walrus.

“Jeeze, lay off. What’s your problem with Paulina?” Tucker turned back towards his friends and sipped at his energy drink. It had been a long night capturing Technus.

“Yeah, you just hated her from day one. She didn’t do anything! She literally just moved here,” Danny added.

“No, she didn’t. You just never noticed her until other guys started to. And I have my reasons.” Sam stabbed at her salad harshly, as if she was making a Paulina voodoo doll out of her food.

“Well then, why? Why do you hate her?”

“I don’t just hate her. She hates me too. It’s a mutual hate,” Sam growled.

“Okay but why?” Tucker chimed in.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sam said shortly.

“Well either tell us or stop complaining,” Tucker replied.

Danny made a grab for her fork and held it away from her. “Danny, give me my fork back.”

“No,” Danny said stubbornly. “We’re your best friends! You can tell us anything. And trust me, I’m desperate to hear your reasoning.”

Both boys stared her down. She would have stabbed both of them with her fork if she still had it. She was pissed. But then Danny’s stare down turned into his puppy dog eyes and pout, which she knew he knew would get her to cave. Damn him. She turned her focus to Tucker so she could keep her angry face, but he too started pouting. Sam hated when they ganged up on her like this. She could usually save face when Tucker pouted. Danny’s big sad questioning eyes almost always swayed her. She could get either of them to cave with a glare or, in very rare cases, her puppy dog eyes. It was so rare that it would immediately get her what she wanted. But when two of them ganged up on the remaining member of the trio, it was difficult to say no.

Sam let out a long groan. “Fine. If you can actually focus and not stare at the queen bee for two minutes, I’ll tell you.” As soon as that was out of her mouth, both boys stood up straight and focused all their attention on her, eager to finally hear why the two girls despised each other so much. “And we will never bring this up again. What I tell you doesn’t leave this table.” Both boys nodded unanimously. “Okay, remember those few years from 3rd grade to 6th grade when I went to a different school?” The boys nodded again. “Well, I never really told you guys why I was only there for a few years. You obviously know the part about my parents wanting to send me to a different school after that fiasco with the lunch box in 2nd grade, but they forced me to go to a private school. In 5th grade, Paulina moved to Amity Park from Florida. And...ugh, this is gross...We…” She trailed off and muttered something the boys didn’t catch.

“What?” Both boys pressed.

“We...used to be...friends,” Sam choked the words out.

Both Danny and Tucker’s eyes widened, eyebrows raised in complete surprise. They thought Paulina moved here in 9th grade, but of course if she went to the private school, they never would have seen her. They definitely didn’t hang out in the same places or with the same people. Hell, they forgot Sam existed until she went back to public school again in 7th grade with her goth look. Before that, they weren’t even friends with Sam, just classmates. Then all three of them had to spend a week in detention with each other, they became friends, and the rest is history. Sam’s break in private school was the reason they were still learning some things about her, like her playing video games and her family being wealthy. It was shocking that her and Paulina were friends once upon a time, because now the girls wouldn’t even talk to each other or acknowledge each other.

“What happened?” Tucker asked in dismay.

“Armageddon.”

“Class, please welcome our new student Paulina Sanchez. She moved here all the way from Florida!” Mrs. Wellington clapped her hands, motioning for her students to do the same. “Miss Sanchez, there is an empty seat behind Miss Manson. Miss Manson, please raise your hand.”

Sam Manson raised her hand as she studied the new girl. She seemed nice enough. She couldn’t tell if they had the same style or not because they had to wear uniforms, but she had a pretty butterfly clip in her long wavy hair. Paulina had some pink lipgloss on and already looked like she was….developing - even at 10 years old. She smiled at Sam and took her seat behind her.

Once the teacher started getting their math lesson started, Paulina whispered in Sam’s ear. “I love your bow, it’s so pretty!”

Sam smiled and glanced back at the new girl. “Thanks! I like your clip. Do you want to sit with me and my friends at lunch today?”

“Yes please! I don’t know anyone in this weird town.”

“I’m Samantha. Samantha Manson.” She stuck her hand out.

Paulina, with a perfect manicure, shook Sam’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

For the entirety of 5th grade, Sam and Paulina had become nearly inseparable. They played with Paulina’s large dollhouse when they got together after school, they skipped rope and chanted nursery rhymes at recess, and braided each other’s hair at lunch. There weren’t many kids at the private school, for it was very exclusive...and expensive.

That fact had been Pamela Manson’s primary reason for sending her daughter to that school. Public school was turning her sweet daughter into a barbarian. Fighting with boys at school? Well, considering the boy threw up in her lunch box, the fight was almost justified. Almost. The Mansons were disgusted that the teachers would allow that to happen. Samantha had only been in public school in the first place due to her grandmother’s persistence. Ida Manson insisted public school would be better for their little Sammykins. She would meet more people that way. Reluctantly, Pamela and Jeremy agreed. Although the Mansons were furious at first that their little girl had gotten in trouble, they were eventually delighted because they now had an excuse to send Samantha to a better and more dignified school.

Pamela Manson adored Paulina. She was glad her daughter had finally picked a proper friend. Samantha had been getting a little too close with those two boys who always riled her up. Folten or Fenton or something. Foley? She didn’t care to remember, her daughter wouldn’t be seeing them anymore. Paulina wore pretty pink dresses and was always groomed properly and well behaved. She had hoped Paulina would be a better influence on Sam after those boys. Plus, Pamela loved outings with the Sanchez family. She and Isabella had frequent mother-daughter outings with their girls.

Everything was perfect until 6th grade started. A few weeks into that first semester, all hell broke loose.

“Hey guys,” Sam sat down at her lunch table, joining Paulina and a few other girls she had become friends with.

“Hey Samantha!”

“Samantha, Kylie was just telling me how pretty my hair is!” Paulina bragged.

“It is lovely,” Sam commented, opening up her lunch box and discarding the meat products her mom had the butler slip in. Paulina had originally thought it was a little odd that Sam did that, but when her friend explained it was because she loved animals so much, Paulina agreed that they were too cute to eat but kept on with her own ways.

“I know!” Paulina chirped.

“Wow, Samantha. Your hair is really pretty too!” Kylie reached out a hand and started running her fingers through Sam’s almost hip-length black hair. “Oooh and it’s so soft!” A few other girls joined Kylie in playing with Sam’s hair.

“Thanks,” Sam laughed. She really didn’t care, but she found it amusing that her friends were so enthralled by her hair.

“What about mine?” Paulina pouted, upset the attention wasn’t on her anymore.

“Yours isn’t as soft, but it’s still nice!” One of the girls replied, still enamoured with Sam’s raven locks. “Is this your natural color?” Sam’s nod was followed up with coos of approval.

Paulina crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at the other girls. Sam was her best friend. She loved Sam. But Sam didn’t care about that kind of stuff. Paulina did! She was used to getting more attention from people. Paulina was the first in their grade to get a bra, she liked to flirt with boys, and she loved being pampered. When outside of school, Sam didn’t really dress up anymore. She would just wear dark t-shirts and shorts and put her hair up into a ponytail. She wouldn’t even let Paulina put flowers in her hair to make her more girly! Instead, Sam scolded her for killing a living thing and disrupting nature or something stupid like that.

After Sam and her family had taken a short visit to one of the industrial plants they owned, she hadn’t been the same. Sam had told Paulina that there was trash in all the pretty trees and flowers, and then Sam had done some research and found out that her parents’ friends’ companies tested on animals, polluted the environment, and had poor labor conditions. She was really upset about it and thought things were wrong, and Paulina would just politely agree with her. She liked that Sam loved the earth and stuff, but then it started to get really annoying.

Sam started reading these weird books after their class learned about Edgar Allan Poe. Stuff about magic and mythology and the occult. Even though Paulina and the other girls thought it was weird, Sam was still their friend. Kind of. Paulina was going to drop Sam until she had been invited to the Manson mansion and found out just how rich Sam’s family was. That kept Sam in good standing with Paulina. Despite the weird factor, Sam was still admired. Sam got better grades than Paulina. Sam got attention from boys because she would still play kickball in her jumper and didn’t mind getting dirty. Sam’s family had a bigger house than Paulina’s. Sam’s family had more money. Sam’s hair was softer, longer, prettier than Paulina’s.

As Paulina watched her friends doting on Sam, taking turns to play with Sam’s hair, she realized she was a little jealous. No matter how hard Paulina had flaunted herself and tried to show up Sam, she felt like Sam always won in the end. It was extra annoying because Sam was so nice. Everyone loved her. Everyone wanted to hang out with her. Sam was a lot of things Paulina tried so hard to be, and Sam had done everything so effortlessly. It wasn’t fair!

They were both very dominant girls, and Paulina realized there wasn’t enough room for the both of them. She needed to prove to everyone, to herself, that she was better and she was in charge of things. Filthy rich or not, Paulina began to ice Sam out and Sam didn’t even seem to notice! After trying and failing to persuade the other girls to drop Sam, she realized she would need to take more drastic measures. She could make people not like Sam anymore. She could make her hair prettier than Sam’s. Sure, it was petty and low, but petty and low is what teenagers are.

Paulina ignored the lesson and stared at the back of Sam’s hair. It was so shiny and looked so soft. Sam smiled as she felt Paulina pulling her long black hair onto her desk, blocking Paulina’s view of her textbook. Paulina pretended to play with Sam’s hair as she dug something out of her purse. After a few minutes, Paulina had shoved several sticks of gum in her mouth, chomping spitefully as she stared at Sam’s hair. Paulina silently spit the large wad of gum into her hand and she carefully placed it on top of Sam’s hair. Furiously but nonchalantly slamming her text book shut with Sam’s hair and the gum still in the middle of it. That should get the gum thoroughly stuck in her hair. Paulina grinned to herself as she tried opening the textbook again, the pages stuck to the hair and gum mess she had made.

When the class all stood up to go to lunch, Sam cried out as Paulina’s textbook yanked her head back. “What?” Sam tried to figure out what was going on, looking behind her.

“Oh my god!” A boy in the class yelled, which caught the attention of the rest of the class, causing them to start yelling as well. The teacher scrambled over to see what was wrong, trying to get Sam’s hair out of the textbook.

“Ow!” Sam yelled and glanced back at Paulina, who pretended to be shocked as she covered her mouth with her hands.

“Oh no Samantha! I’m so sorry, it was an accident!”

Tears welled up in Sam’s eyes as the situation got progressively worse. The teacher told all the kids to go to lunch as she worked on Sam’s hair in the classroom alone. It was no use. The teacher grabbed some scissors and began cutting as low as she could. “I’m so sorry sweetie.”

Sam sat there furiously, eyes full of tears. She knew Paulina had done that on purpose. Paulina had been meaner to her lately and they weren’t allowed to have gum in class! She reached back and felt her choppy hair that now landed a little past her shoulders. When the class had returned from lunch, they were all gasping and pointing at Sam’s hair.

Though the teacher had given Paulina a detention and made her pay a fine to replace the textbook, Sam didn’t feel that was a fair punishment. The teacher had sent Sam home and apologized profusely to Pamela Manson, who had called the school screaming and demanding the teacher be fired. Sam’s hair had to be cut even shorter to even it out; it now sat about an inch or so above her shoulders.

“Oh yeah, that’s pretty shitty,” Danny commented as Sam finished the story.

Tucker nodded his head in agreement. “Yeah that’s pretty low.”

Sam sighed as she ran her hand through her hair. She had kept it short so Paulina wouldn’t get the chance to mess with it again. “That’s not the end of the story.”

Tucker and Danny exchanged a look as she continued.

Sam had stopped going near Paulina after that, but she still hadn’t forgiven the girl. Her mom, though angry at Paulina, told Sam to just leave it alone. Like hell Sam was going to let her get away with this. At lunch the next day, she snuck an innocent little worm on Paulina’s lunch when she wasn’t looking. Paulina of course screamed and caused a commotion, easily pointing the finger at Sam. Teachers had no proof Sam did anything, so they just got Paulina a new lunch and told her to calm down.

Pranks and nasty incidents just escalated after that, until Paulina had done something so terrible it got Sam expelled.

Paulina had a crush on Ricky (ironically no relation to Lunch Box Ricky) and Ricky was chatting away happily with Sam about some comic book. Paulina was already over all the pranks: spiders in her purse, “accidentally” ruining her new shirt...Sam had been careful to not leave behind too much evidence so she never got in trouble. Paulina wasn’t as clever and had to serve a few detentions. And now, Sam was trying to steal her new boyfriend away from her! She knew she needed to not only win this war, but completely end it. And fast.

Sam had been called into the office the next day. Her parents were also called in to meet with the teacher, vice principal, and principal. Apparently, there were some naked pictures of Sam floating around the school, which was against their code of conduct. As much as Sam explained that wasn’t her and that Paulina was just trying to get back at her, her parents were threatening to send her to a boarding school and she would be suspended for the rest of the year. When Sam tried to confront Paulina about everything, Paulina admitted getting Ricky, who was in yearbook and owed her for letting him get to second base, to poorly photoshop some images together and make it seem like Sam had taken naked photos of herself. Though some kids backed Sam up and validated that Paulina had in fact done that on purpose, Sam ended up getting expelled for punching Paulina square in the face. Paulina said she wanted a nose job anyway. Plus, the stuck up bitch had stuck gum to the side of Sam’s head AGAIN, forcing Sam to shave half of her head.

More kids came forward about the feuding girls as Paulina continued to spread rumors about Sam being a freak and pretending to be rich when she wasn’t. Paulina was so shallow; she only cared about looks and popularity and money (and got the rest of the students at the school on board with being snobby and stuck up) - she showed no remorse for treating her former best friend, who kindly helped her gain her footing in Amity Park, the way she did.

The Mansons eventually learned the truth of what happened and cut off all ties with the Sanchez family after having a huge screaming fit over the phone. Though the school had apologized and said Sam could return to school, the damage had already been done and her parents never forgave the school. Sam and her grandmother had convinced her parents that she could go back to public school for 7th grade. Her parents had continued to force their daughter to go back to the way she was before all of this happened, but Sam just continued to pull away from them. She became spiteful and grim, and had a really hard time trusting anyone after that.

“And that’s why I never told you guys about my wealth and why you knew so little about me. I didn’t trust people anymore. It just seemed like people would only talk to me because they knew who my family was. I mean, we didn’t just get rich off of toothpicks. We have an empire.” Sam finished quietly. Then, she gave a small smile. “But I know now that I can trust you guys. We’ve been through so much in such a short amount of time. And honestly? I wouldn’t trade you guys for anything. I’d rather have two great friends than fifty so-called friends who only liked me for shallow reasons. Plus, after I decked Paulina, I was kind of blacklisted.” Her smile widened, pride beaming through.

“Wow. Sorry Sam, we didn’t know.” Danny rested a hand on her shoulder comfortingly.

“I know.” Sam rested her hand on Danny’s, causing both teens to go a little pink in the face.

“Wait wait wait. So you’re telling me there’s nude photos of you somewhere?” Tucker leaned his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together.

Sam rolled her eyes. “No, moron. They were photoshopped. I mean the skin tone didn’t even match, I don’t know how the school thought that was real. I think they were just so shocked anything like that could happen with 6th graders.”

Danny’s face turned more red at the thought of nude photos of Sam existing somewhere, fake or not. He was angry that someone would try to hurt Sam that way, but he was more embarrassed of himself because he was now picturing his best friend naked. His hand suddenly felt hot on her shoulder and he yanked it away quickly with Sam shooting him only a questioning look. He grumbled something under his breath and scooted his chair so his lap was more under the table. Now was not the time.

Tucker snorted. “Amateurs. I was better at photoshop when I was 5 years old.”

Sam laughed. “That’s exactly what I was thinking. Anyway, I guess Paulina’s parents switched her to public school for 9th. I guess the private school didn’t have a cheer squad or something,” Sam shrugged. “When I saw Paulina show up here on the first day of school, I was honestly shocked and a little terrified. Before anything could get out, I cornered her and we swore to never acknowledge that we even knew each other and to stay away from each other. I tried giving her benefit of the doubt, hoping she changed, but then she set up and blew off Danny at the dance to make a jab at me-”

“What?!” Danny exclaimed. “That’s why she ditched me?!”

Sam ignored him and continued, “and I just realized she would never change. She was always going to be shallow and petty, but I would let her start fresh at Casper as long as she stayed far far away from me. I’m too exhausted to care anymore. But yeah, people stopped hanging out with me and started calling me a freak, especially when I became goth. That’s why I hate it when my parents try to push pink and girly on me, it reminds me of that time. It was pretty lonely and I was starting to get self-destructive, until you guys came along.” She smiled softly at them. “You guys saved my life.”

Both boys had their jaws dropped, completely unaware that there had been that huge of a backstabbing backstory that clearly affected Sam way more than she cared to admit.

“You were hurting yourself?” Danny’s voice sounded broken. Sam was so strong now. He never would have thought that she could have killed herself before he even got to meet her. He was suddenly very glad he started talking to her in detention back in 7th grade.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, I kinda hate that I did that. I promise I’m better now. Between you guys and a lot of therapy, I feel better about myself than I ever have. It’s stupid,” she added, “because I really did find myself because of all she did to me, so in a way I should thank her…”

“Uh, no. I’m surprised you haven’t killed her yet. Especially after she tried stealing Dan-” Tucker shut his mouth after he received a swift kick to the shin. Apparently now was not the time to tease Sam about her crush on Danny.

“Yeah. You’re really so kind, Sam. You have a good heart. I know I would have handled that situation a lot worse than you did,” Danny disclosed.

“True. Our Sammy has a soft spot after all.” Tucker huffed as he received another kick for calling her by the nickname he knew she hated. Only Danny could get away with that one.

“Shhh. You’ll tarnish my reputation,” Sam said in amusement.

The bell rang and students in the cafeteria all stood at once, cleaning their tables and making their way towards their next class. When Paulina passed their table, Danny grimaced.

“I can’t look at her the same anymore,” Danny remarked.

Tucker nodded, “Same, dude.”

“Guys, please. This is all as much of a secret as Danny’s identity is, okay? I don’t want that drama coming back. I get revenge in my dreams. Just let her be, it’s not worth it.” Sam threw her spider backpack over her shoulder.

Tucker glanced at Danny before smirking. “Aww, Sam. Too good for this world. Too pure.”

Danny threw an arm around Sam’s shoulder as they walked to their next class. “Such a cinnamon roll.”

Sam groaned at the boys, “Stooooopppppp!” Tucker caught up to them and tried giving Sam a noogie, but his hand was slapped away swiftly. “No. None of that.” She pointed her finger sternly at him. Her head suddenly snapped towards Danny, who was smiling innocently despite the little tug he gave to her ponytail.

“Don’t worry, Tuck. Sam would never hurt us. She’s a softie inside, like a marshmallow.” Danny laughed as she shot him a look.

“I’m plotting both of your murders in my head, just so you know,” Sam grumbled.

Danny’s arm tightened around Sam protectively, pulling her a little closer as Elliot walked up to them.

“Hey Sam, I-” Elliot’s eyes widened as she pulled out a switchblade from her pocket and pointed it towards him. “Never mind!” He scurried away quickly, slipping in the process.

Danny stiffened and Tucker stared nervously at the knife. “Do you always carry that thing around?”

Sam smiled sickenly sweet, “Still soft?” Tucker shook his head. “That’s what I thought.” She closed the blade and shoved it back in her pocket, smiling because their teasing did cheer her up.

Danny gave her a soft squeeze before removing his arm as they entered the classroom. “Only the people who earned it get to know the real Sam, the one with the kind heart who’s also tough as nails. Right?”

Sam smiled back at Danny, “Exactly.”

#stephanie writes sometimes #danny phantom #fic #phic #phic phight 2021 #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #paulina sanchez #sorry I had to make Paulina really mean lol

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