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worth-the-chaos · 4 months

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Adventures in Babysitting - Steve Harrington x female!reader - Chapter 4

Chapter Summary: Looking for Dart isn’t easy, but it gives you and Steve a lot of time to have a heart to heart, as you slowly start to realize your feelings for one another.

Content Warning: fluff, mutual pining, slow burn, upside down scary shit, boys being stupid

Word Count: 6.5k

Author’s Note: This part sticks closely to the original series, but there will be a lot more originality in the next part! I know it probably isn’t super fun to read what you’ve watched on the show, but for me this has been the ultimate rewatch fic writing experience, which I have greatly enjoyed, so if you’re looking to reminisce about stranger things, boy is this the fic for you ;)

Series Masterlist | Part 3 | Next Part

***

Steve woke up first, and nearly panicked when he realized that you were curled up in his arms, pressed flush against his chest. At some point in the night, you both must have rolled over to face each other, and now his arms were wrapped around your waist, one hand dangerously close to your ass and one of his legs rested in between yours. He wasn’t sure what to do and his mind was screaming at him to move before you could wake up and see the compromising position the two of you were in, but his heart was screaming at him to stay.

He pulled away slightly to look at you, his heart beating wildly in his chest. The worry lines that were usually etched into your features were gone, and it was the first time he could think of that you truly looked at peace. You were stunning, there was no question about it. I could get used to this, Steve thought, but then quickly pushed it aside. He felt guilty; he wasn’t even sure if Nancy and him were actually officially broken up and he was already starting to feel things for someone else. Though if he was really being honest with himself, he’d been feeling this way about you for a while.

He carefully untangled himself from you, cursing himself for not holding onto you for just a little bit longer, but he knew that it was the right thing to do. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable, so he slipped out of bed and quietly exited the room, making his way down to the kitchen.

You groaned when you finally woke up, light filtering in through the window. The bed was empty, and you tried to push aside your disappointment as you checked the clock on Steve’s beside table. It was 8:00 which meant you had a couple of hours before Steve and you had to leave to pick up Dustin. You wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, unready to face the tribulations that inevitably lied ahead. Knowing that wasn’t an option, you got out of bed.

Upon turning the corner into the massive kitchen, you were met with the sight of a pajama clad Steve Harrington, standing over the kitchen stove while he cooked pancakes. He turned once he heard your footsteps and saw you, your eyes still sleepy as you drowned in his clothes that were way too big for you. He felt his face heat up at the sight of you, but if you asked, he would blame it on the hot stove.

“Pancake?” He asked, the one on the pan finally done cooking. You simply nodded and he plated it and walked towards the kitchen table, setting it down at a seat before pulling your chair out for you.

“I’m honestly surprised that you know how to cook anything,” you teased. It was pretty baffling to see the boy who had previously been a complete ass standing in a kitchen making pancakes with the most wild case of bedhead you’d ever seen. “Or that you’re cooking at all considering the day we have ahead of us,” you added, mind beginning to focus on the more important things.

“Well, my parents are gone most of the time so I have to fend for myself a lot. Which, you know, sucks, but it also means I kinda can do whatever the hell I want, so I guess it balances itself out, doesn’t it?” Steve took the seat across from you, sitting down with his own pancake.

“I guess,” you agreed. You both ate your breakfast quietly, trying not to think about how domestic all of this was. I’m supposed to be thinking about the damn demogorgon, not playing house with Steve, you thought, annoyed with yourself for enjoying this all a little too much. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to wear today,” you spoke up, interrupting the blissful quiet of the meal you were sharing.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if I wear my clothes from yesterday, Dustin’s going to make…assumptions. And I certainly can’t wear these,” you added, giggling and flailing your arms to demonstrate how long the sleeves were, “but I also can’t go home to change because my parents aren’t going to let me leave so easy when they find out I didn’t come home last night and now some boy they don’t know is dropping me off for a pit stop.”

Steve was quiet for a bit as he contemplated all of this. “Well, for starters,” he said through a mouthful of pancakes, “I think you look fabulous, but I can see how in a defensive situation, the miles of extra fabric would not be the best. You can raid my mom’s closet? She might have some stuff that fits you better? She also has a shit ton of stuff she definitely doesn’t wear anymore,” He offered. You felt weird about it, but given it was basically your only option, you nodded in agreement.

Steve brought you into his parents’ room, pointing out the clothes he knew his mom wouldn’t miss. You settled on a pair of jeans, a white turtleneck, and a beige windbreaker. Simple enough. You swiftly changed in the bathroom and took a look at yourself in the mirror. These clothes were definitely nicer and more expensive than the ones you normally wore. You felt good in them, and they fit your body nicely, much more well tailored than your thrifted outfits. You put your hair into a low ponytail and shook out your arms, bouncing from foot to foot trying to psych yourself up for this. At least if I die today, I’ll die wearing nicer clothes.

You and Steve loaded his trunk with things you might need: the nail bat, a few knives, a golf club, a can of gasoline, as well as a few buckets full of raw meat. If you were going to catch this thing, you were going to have to bait it.

***

“So, what are the odds you think we’re really going to find this thing?” Steve asked as the two of you drove towards Dustin’s house. To be completely honest, he thought that this attempt was most likely futile. Hawkins was small, but not that small. Hell, by now it might not even be in Hawkins anymore.

“I’d say slim to none. But we still have to try. I can’t in good conscience not find it. I don’t think I’d ever be able to sleep again if I knew it was just out there, roaming Hawkins,” you shuddered, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Yeah, I don’t sleep too well anymore. Not after last year,” Steve admitted. He hated being vulnerable, but it didn’t feel so bad when he was being that way around you.

“I know what you mean. The amount of nightmares I’ve had about that…that thing is just truly astounding” you sighed, giving Steve an empathetic look.

Steve didn’t have the heart to tell you that his nightmares weren’t scary because he was face to face with the demogorgon. They were terrifying because they always ended with you getting hurt. Every single one of them was just the two of you in that damn living room, but this time he didn’t have the bat. It was just you, pinned to the floor helpless, and him unable to move. Unable to save you.

“Yep,” he replied instead, “I didn’t have any last night though.” It wasn’t a lie, and he felt his heart race as he said it. Admitting that seemed risky, but at this point he didn’t care. With the amount of shit you both always seemed to be in, holding things back seemed riskier.

“Me neither,” you added, voice quiet but sincere.

It wasn’t long before you pulled up to the Henderson household, Dustin hurrying towards the car. He quickly got in the backseat, clearly eager to get this all over with. You couldn’t really blame him, as you felt the exact same way.

“We have shit in the back of the car so we don’t need to stop for supplies. Where are we going first?” You cut right to the chase.

“I was thinking we could walk the train tracks. It’ll be easier to cover more ground that way, and it’s secluded enough that we won’t look batshit crazy,” Dustin replied. Honestly, you had to give the boy credit, he was pretty damn smart. Steve began to pull away, headed towards the park. He knew one of the hiking trails ran parallel to the train tracks and you’d only have to deviate from it slightly in order to reach them.

“Why didn’t you pick me up first?” Dustin suddenly asked.

“What?” Steve replied.

“I said, why didn’t you pick me up first? My house is between yours and y/n’s. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Does it matter?” Steve returned his question with a question, gripping the steering wheel tighter as his shoulders tensed. You cleared your throat and looked out the window, avoiding eye contact at all costs. Your body language gave you both away, and Steve could see Dustin’s eyes light up in the rearview mirror as he connected the dots.

“Woah! Wait a minute. You didn’t have to pick her up because she stayed at your house!” Dustin exclaimed, letting out a laugh and feeling like a genius.

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Steve shot back, clearly angry. You buried your face in the palm of your hand. If Steve just wouldn’t react so huge, then Dustin might second guess himself, but no, that was too complex a reaction for the boy to ever consider.

“You’re lying! Haha! I knew it!” Dustin yelled out, pointing at your look of defeat. Maybe I could have reacted a bit differently too, you thought sheepishly, flashing Steve a look that said “I’m sorry.”

“Dustin, would you just kindly shut the fuck up,” Steve fumed, trying to pay attention to the road.

“Wait a minute, did you guys have sex?”

“NO!” You both shouted in unison, and Steve slammed on the breaks, the inertia causing your seatbelt to lock as you all jolted forward. Steve very aggressively put the car in park and whipped around, putting his left hand on the back of your seat to fully twist his body towards the boy in the backseat.

“Listen here, dipshit. It wasn’t fucking like that, she slept in the guest bedroom because I didn’t feel good about leaving her home alone while your little science experiment is running all over this goddamn town. Ask one more question about it, and I swear you’ll have bigger concerns than this Upside Down bullshit,” Steve threatened. Dustin put his hands up, signaling that he would back off, and Steve nodded as he turned back around, taking a deep breath, and putting the car back in drive.

You were a little shocked by his outburst. The old Steve would have bragged about the fact that you had shared a bed with him, so you were a bit surprised that he lied, placing you in the guest room in his explanation to Dustin. Maybe he was embarrassed about it, you thought as your heart sank a little in your chest.

You finally made it to the park, Steve parking haphazardly by a trailhead as you all exited the BMW. You handed each boy a pair of rubber gloves from your backpack, slipping a pair on yourself before passing the boys each a bucket of raw meat. Steve threw on his backpack, nail bat sticking out of it. Your backpack looked similar, but packed with a golf club instead. You also had found a hunting knife that belonged to Mr. Harrington as you both had scoured the house for anything that was or could be turned into a weapon, and it sat sheathed on your right hip underneath your windbreaker.

Suddenly, Lucas’ voice was ringing out from Dustin’s walkie talkie, “Dustin! This is Lucas, do you copy? Dustin!”

“Well, well, well, look who it is?”

“Sorry, man, my sister turned it off.”

“Well, when you were having sister problems, Dart grew again, he escaped, and I’m pretty sure he’s a baby demogorgon,” Dustin fumed.

“Wait, what?”

“I’ll explain later, just meet me, Steve, and y/n at the old junkyard,” Dustin informed him.

“Steve?!”

“And bring your binoculars and wrist rocket.”

“Steve Harrington?!” Lucas emphasized his question again, still clearly in disbelief that Dustin was hanging out with that asshole. You couldn’t help but laugh. Steve rolled his eyes.

“Alright, let’s go,” he chimed in, ready for Dustin to end his dumb conversation with his friend. Why can’t Lucas be confused as to why y/n’s here too? Why does it always have to be me?

“Just be there, stat! Over and out,” Dustin ended the discussion, putting the walkie talkie back in his pocket.

It took a second for you to finally find the train tracks, having to hike about a mile and a half before you actually were able to see them. You were glad it was still early on a Sunday, so no one was out hiking to see the three kids who definitely looked like they did not hang out together on a regular basis with bright yellow gloves and bait buckets. There were some questions you just couldn’t answer.

So there the three of you were, walking the train tracks and dropping small chucks of raw meat behind you like sailors chumming the water for sharks. You tried not to think about it as the three of you made conversation to pass the time, beginning with you forcing Dustin to explain himself.

“Alright, so let me get this straight,” Steve spoke up after his explanation, “you kept something that you knew was probably dangerous in order to impress a girl…who you just met?”

“Okay, that is grossly oversimplifying things,” Dustin replied. You were walking in a line, Dustin leading, Steve in the middle, and you taking up the rear. You were glad that this arrangement allowed you to emote freely, the boys unable to see you.

“Why would a girl like some nasty slug anyway?” You chimed in, speaking on behalf of females across the globe who weren’t looking for boys to sweep them off their feet by showing them some trashcan residing tadpole that likes nougat.

“An inter dimensional slug? Because it’s awesome, duh. And I’m a little disappointed that you wouldn’t be excited about that y/n, considering you’re like a complete nerd.”

You scoffed in disbelief. “I’m not a complete nerd.”

“Uh yeah. You are. You’ve babysat me for a whole year now and all you do is homework. Even over the summer. I’m not even that nerdy!” Dustin exclaimed.

“I mean, the kid’s got a point y/n. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you have fun…like ever,” Steve added. You gaped at him, unable to believe that he would take Henderson’s side. These motherfuckers were ganging up on you, and you wouldn’t have that.

“That is so not true! I went to that dumbass party you invited me to,” you reminded him. Dustin’s ears perked up at this, as he slowly turned, looking past Steve and narrowing his eyes at you. So Steve had been the one that invited you to the Halloween party. You realized your slip up and gave Dustin a look that you hoped was threatening enough for him to keep his mouth shut.

“Anyway, regardless of whether or not she thought it was cool—which she didn’t—I just…I don’t know, I just think you’re trying way too hard,” Steve refocused the conversation, not digging the obvious but silent argument the two of you were having that he was not privy to.

“Well, not everyone can have your perfect hair, Steve,” Dustin grumbled.

“It’s not about the hair man. The key with girls is just…just acting like you don’t care.”

“Even if you do?”

“Yeah, exactly, it drives them nuts,” Steve replied as if it was the simplest thing in the world. You slowed down your strides. Steve continued to make it abundantly clear to you that he cared…like a whole hell of a lot. In some ways, you were starting to confuse all of this for interest, but maybe you were wrong; maybe he did truly just want to be friends. You bent down and retied your shoes trying to put some distance between you and the boys, not wanting them to see how let down you felt. The boys noticed, and started to slow their steps, but you shooed them ahead, letting them know you’d be fine. Steve hesitantly obliged, following Dustin who had already started back down the tracks.

“Then what?” Dustin asked.

“Then you just wait until—“ Steve turned making sure you were out of earshot, not quite wanting you to hear him talk about how he used to pick up women. “Uh, until you feel it,” Steve finished.

“Feel what?” Geez, did this kid ever stop asking fucking questions.

“It’s like before it’s gonna storm, you know? You can’t see it but you can feel it, like this uh…electricity, you know?” Steve searched for the right words to explain it to Dustin. He figured a metaphor would be better, just in case you came within earshot again.

“Oh, like in the electromagnetic field when the clouds in the atmosphere—“

“No, no, no, no, no, like a…like a sexual electricity,” Steve connected the dots for him, “you feel that, and then you make your move.”

“So that’s when you kiss her?” Dustin asked innocently.

“No, woah, woah whoa! Slow down, Romeo…sure, okay, some girls want you to be aggressive right away, strong, hot and heavy, I don’t know, like…like a lion,” he continued to speak in metaphors, “but others you gotta be slow, stealth, like a…like a ninja.”

“What type is y/n,” Dustin asked.

Steve was thrown off by the question, but answered it anyway, “y/n’s different. She’s different than the other girls,” Steve said quietly as he looked over his shoulder, you were still trailing several paces behind, and for once he was glad. He didn’t usually like it when you were out of his sight…it was too dangerous, but right now it was nice to speak freely.

“Yeah, she is pretty special I guess,” Dustin agreed. Not many girls would have fought like hell for some random kid they babysat. You were probably one of the coolest people he knew…even if you did do a lot of homework.

“Yeah. Yeah, she is,” Steve sighed, still unsure of what the hell he was supposed to do about that. His love life was a complete shit show, but he was hoping that maybe by the end of all of this it wouldn’t be.

“But that’s the thing…this girl is special too, you know? It’s just like...something about her.”

“Woah, woah, woah. You’re not falling in love with this girl are you?” Steve asked, judgment and concern painted across his features.

“You’re not falling in love with y/n, are you?” Dustin shot back.

“Touché,” Steve replied. He looked back at you again. You had bent down to clear a branch out of the tracks, tossing it aside. Standing up and brushing your hair out of your face with your forearm, avoiding touching your skin with the rubber glove. “Well, don’t. She’ll just go breaking your heart and you’re way too young for that shit,” he added, turning away from you. Dustin hung his head down, and Steve remembered what it was like to be that age. He was never unpopular like Dustin was, but he remembered how awkward it was to be in middle school.

He sighed. “Fabergé organics,” he said pointing to his hair, “use the shampoo and the conditioner and when its damp—not wet, okay, damp—you do four puffs of the Farrah Fawcett spray.”

“Farrah Fawcett spray?” Dustin asked, trying and failing to hold back his laughter.

“Yeah, Farrah Fawcett. You tell anyone that I told you that and your ass is grass, you’re dead Henderson. You understand that?” Steve stopped, pointing a gloved finger in Dustin’s face.

“Are you threatening my kid?” The boys turned as you shouted, watching you jog towards them to catch up.

“Yes, yes I was,” Steve owned it, selling the threat, while Dustin stared a little wide eyed at him, gulping before nodding in agreement. You continued on, but you slowed a bit as you noticed a yellow flag sticking out on the side of the trail, marking a tree that’s trunk was black with rot. You felt a sinking feeling in your stomach, as you’d never seen anything quite like it…and someone was keeping tabs on it too, which was equally, if not more unsettling.

“Y/n? Are you coming?” Dustin asked, the impatience of his age showing.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry,” you muttered, shaking away the thought as you caught up with the boys.

***

You made it to the junkyard, each of you pouring the remaining chunks of raw meat in a pile in a clearing.

“I said medium-well!” You heard Lucas yell, turning to see him and a red headed girl headed your direction. You recognized her, and you kept trying to wrack your brain for how but you kept coming up empty. Dustin pulled Lucas aside to talk, so you decided to introduce yourself.

“Well, I’m y/n. It’s nice to meet you. I wish it were under better circumstances,” you told her, extending your hand towards her. She took it and smiled.

“I’m Max.”

“So, how much do you know about all of this shit?” Steve asked and you rolled your eyes.

“This is Steve,” you added, not wanting to be entirely rude to the poor girl. Realization flashed across his face as he lifted his hand in a half wave, not really in the mood for introductions. The world was basically ending, did it really matter if you all knew each other?

Max waved back, pressing her lips into a thin line, clearly also unimpressed by Steve. You couldn’t imagine how she was putting up with Dustin and his friends all this time, but then again, you had spent the last twenty-four hours with Steve Harrington, so you really couldn’t judge. “I know pretty much everything,” Max answered your previous question, though you could tell she didn’t really buy it. You weren’t going to try to convince her. Hell, you wished you didn’t believe it either.

“Well, we should probably start prepping for some serious shit,” you spoke up, starting to lift up a piece sheet metal and turning to carry it towards a broken down old bus. Steve knew that had to be heavy as hell, and if he was being honest, watching you carry it was kind of hot. He shook the thought from his head as you returned to help Max carry another piece. He turned to make his way towards the boys who were doing nothing to help whatsoever.

While you and Max carried the sheet metal, you finally realized where you knew her from, “hey, you’re Billy’s sister, right?” You remembered her from the car. She had to walk all the way down to the middle school because Billy was a lazy piece of shit.

“Step sister, but to answer your question, yeah, unfortunately,” she rolled her eyes.

“Well, I wouldn’t tell Steve that because he definitely is not a fan of your brother,” you chuckled.

“Join the club,” she sighed as you set the scrap down. You heard a loud bang as you turned to see Steve banging a metal chair against a car to get the younger boys’ attention.

“Hey! Dickheads! How come the only ones helping me out are y/n and this random girl?”

You and Max looked at each other and you burst out laughing. You apologized that Steve had referred to you as “this random girl,” as you moved to grab more and more materials to set up your impromptu shelter. Steve and the boys continued to grab sheet metal and you began pouring gasoline all over the clearing. Fire had worked pretty damn good the last time, so you were banking on it working again, hoping that it was enough.

You had fortified the entire bus with sheet metal, wiping the sweat beading on your forehead after you and Steve placed the last piece. The kids were all piling onto the dilapidated vehicle and you were about ready to join them when Steve grabbed your elbow for you to wait.

“What?” You asked, not quite sure why he had stopped you.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay if this thing shows up?” He asked, scanning your face trying to read your expression as if it would reveal some sort of fundamental truths about the universe to him.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” you shook free of his grasp, somewhat annoyed with him. If him showing he cared meant that he wasn’t interested, you weren’t interested in hearing it.

“What’s the matter? What did I do?” Steve was confused and a bit hurt too. Through all of this you had gotten along so well, and now was not the time for your friendship to be on the fritz.

You sighed, not quite sure how to explain yourself. You knew you were being unreasonable, but you just didn’t have the energy to care right now. “It’s just…I don’t know, I just wish you didn’t care so much about me sometimes. I didn’t matter to you at all a year ago, so it’s just a lot sometimes to have you worried about me all the damn time, whether it’s some guy hitting on me or this shit. I can take care of myself, I’m not fucking weak, okay?” You grumbled.

“That’s not fair, y/n, and I think you know it. And I wish I wouldn’t have been so stuck up and that we could’ve been friends sooner. And yeah, believe me, I fucking know you can handle yourself, but now that we are friends, I kind of am partial to having you around and if that means yelling at sketchy douchebags like Billy and knocking some inter dimensional fucker into next week, I’ll be damned if I let you stop me,” Steve emphasized. You could hear the annoyance in his voice, but you could also hear the desperation. Steve didn’t say it, but his heart just wanted him to scream let me take care of you…in every damn way there was.

“I know, but Steve the reality of the situation is that we’re in deep fucking shit, and either of us could get ripped to shreds or incapacitated by that thing at any moment, so I need to know that I can be okay without you.”

It was hard to admit it and your voice wavered a bit, but it was true. Something in Steve clicked when you said it and he finally understood why you were so hellbent on fending for yourself. Suddenly, Steve stepped forward and put his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. He buried his head in the crook of your neck, needing to just hold onto you for a second.

You weren’t expecting the hug, but it was more than welcome nonetheless. You didn’t really know how you were supposed to react, but you felt your hands instinctively go up to run your fingers through his hair. You spent a minute like that before pulling away, Steve taking a step back again and clearing his throat.

“Sorry, it’s just I think I push the idea that we might not come back from this out of my head sometimes. I don’t want to have any regrets if this all goes to shit,” he said. What he wanted to say was I want the chance to hold you, just in case.

You nodded and the two of you entered the bus. If the kids heard your conversation, they didn’t say anything, as you and Steve joined them on the floor.

Now it was just a waiting game. Your hand went to the blade at your hip, your fingers running over the leather of the holster. You were ready.

***

Lucas had vacated the bus, instead choosing to sit on the roof to operate as look out. You wished you would have volunteered because sitting and waiting inside this damn thing had become near excruciating. Steve kept flicking his lighter on and off, and you glared at him in the dark, hoping that it would have enough fluid left for when you really needed it.

“So…you really fought one of these things before?” Max spoke up and asked. Steve nodded, continuing to mess with the lighter.

“…and you’re, like, totally 100% sure it wasn’t a bear?”

“Shit. Don’t be an idiot. Okay? It wasn’t a bear. Why are you even here if you don’t believe us? Just go home.” Dustin fumed.

“Geez, someone’s cranky. Past your bedtime?” Max shot back, crossing her arms.

“Dustin!” You scolded. He rolled his eyes and turned away from you, and you decided to give up on trying to get him to play nice. “I’m definitely sure it wasn’t a bear. I’ve even got the scars to prove it,” you tried to go back to Max’s original question, believing that she deserved a kindly worded answer.

“Yeah, she almost died. Still think it was a fucking bear?” Dustin grumbled from his seat, still refusing to face the rest of you. You rolled your eyes and shook your head, trying to make it clear to Max that you thought he was being ridiculous.

“Here, I’ll show you.” You took off the windbreaker, and slipped your arm out of your turtleneck sleeve. Steve went to avert his eyes as a large part of your chest and torso was now on display, but he stopped in his tracks when his eyes caught your upper arm. He had never actually seen the wounds, just your blood-soaked sleeve and then the bandage, and since, you had avoided wearing anything that showed your upper arm. It was littered with scars and his breath hitched in his throat. He left that fight without a scratch on him. Well, other than the ones he already had from his scuffle with Jonathan. He couldn’t imagine what it was like to have that permanent of a reminder.

Dustin cleared his throat loudly and kicked Steve in the leg, signaling at him that he should probably look away before you noticed him staring. Steve quickly obliged, becoming very fascinated with a spot on the floor while you covered back up.

“That’s fucking crazy,” Max breathed out, “why the hell are you guys here if you almost died last time you had to deal with this thing?”

“Because who else would?” You replied as if it was simple. This was now your burden to bear, and you felt a pang in your chest as you realized that it was now Max’s as well.

With that, she nodded, moving to the ladder to join Lucas on the roof. Dustin scoffed and muttered another insult as she disappeared from the body of the bus.

“That’s good. Just show her you don’t care,” Steve spoke up.

“I don’t,” Dustin grumbled. Steve winked at him, and you rolled your eyes.

“Why are you winking, Steve? Stop.” You interjected, kicking at his leg, much like Dustin had done earlier. “Besides, just so you know,” you added, directing your focus back at Dustin, but saying it just as much for Steve’s benefit, “that’s terrible advice. Girls like it when you show them that they mean something to you. If you just keep them guessing they’re going to lose interest.”

Suddenly, you heard a growl settle across the junkyard and the familiar chattering that haunted you in your sleep. You, Steve, and Dustin moved quickly to look out the caged in window. The fog making it difficult to make anything out.

“You see him?” You asked.

“No,” Steve replied, his eyes rapidly darting around the clearing hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything that would be helpful in giving you even the slightest advantage in this fight.

“I’ve got eyes! Ten o’clock! Ten o’clock!” You suddenly heard Lucas yell from the roof. Surely enough, there it was. You felt anxiety start to creep up in your chest, but then you reminded yourself that you were caged in. The demogorgon couldn’t get you in there…right?

“He’s not taking the bait. Why is he not taking the bait?” Steve asked.

“Maybe he’s not hungry,” Dustin proposed. Surely that couldn’t be it, and you wracked your brain trying to come up with a plan. You finally settled on one, granted it wasn’t great, but it was about your best option at the moment. It’s now or never.

“Or maybe it’s sick of cow,” you added, swiftly getting up before anyone could stop you and grabbing the golf club.

“Y/n? Y/n, what are you doing?” Dustin asked, fear seeping into his voice. Steve shot up grabbing the nail bat, understanding where you were going. He decided he wasn’t going to argue, but he wasn’t going to let you go by yourself either.

“Y/n, Steve!” Dustin called out again. Steve tossed him the lighter, the boy fumbling it before he caught it.

“Just be ready,” Steve warned as the two of you quickly swung open the door and exited the safety of the bus. Steve started whistling and calling out to the demogorgon, attempting to lure it towards the bus so you could enact your plan. You both cautiously stepped farther and farther out into the clearing, weapons in hand, looking like you were about to play the most fucked up game of basegolf ever.

“Come on! Dinner time,” you shouted out feeling fear rise in your throat. You couldn’t believe you were walking back into this again, but you had three kids with you and you weren’t going to let this creature put a scratch on them. No one else needed to come out of this with scars. You finally saw the demogorgon, or well, adolescent demogorgon. It was on all fours, stepping out from the fog into the clearing. It looked fucking menacing and you the longer you were out here, the more determined than ever you were to kill the fucking thing.

Lucas’ voice suddenly rang out “Steve! Y/n! Watch out! Three o’clock! Three o’clock!” You looked to your left and realized it wasn’t alone as two more began to climb over one of the other rundown vehicles. It had brought company.

“A little busy,” Steve called back, eyes still focused on the demogorgon in front of him.

“Steve,” you warned, and the fear in your tone caused him to turn, finally realizing that you were outnumbered. Suddenly, the face of the one across from Steve opened up as it started bounding towards the two of you, it’s buddies swiftly closing in as well, Steve dodged the first one, rolling over the hood of a car to get out of the way. You whacked at one to your left with the golf club, barely dodging another as it charged at you. So much was happening at once, and you were struggling to process it all. You barely jumped out of the way of another attack, as Steve roughly grabbed your wrist swinging you in front of him and shoving you as you both sprinted towards the bus. You heard the kids’ screams for you to hurry as the creatures closed in behind you. the two of you barely hopped back into the bus and shut the door, landing in a heap as you shoved more sheet metal to block the door. One of the demogorgons lunged at the bus, its sharp claws clamoring against the metal as you and Steve tried desperately to hold the door shut with your legs.

The kids all sprung into action, Dustin calling out on his walkie talkie for help, as the demogorgon finally broke through the door. Steve started beating it with the nail bat, swinging again and again, as it still didn’t die with each blow. It finally stopped moving, but that was when you all heard the sounds of footsteps on the roof, realizing too late that you hadn’t blocked the emergency exit. Max stood at the bottom of the ladder as the demogorgon approached, you shoved her out of the way as it opened its mouth to shriek at you. You were back in relatively the same position you had been in a year ago, you unsheathed your knife from your hip about ready to slit its throat, when all of the sudden it stopped screeching, growling off into the distance before swiftly vacating the bus.

You all cautiously exited the bus, realizing that the rest of them had left as well, all of you confused by the fact that they had just left. These things didn’t leave, not without killing something first.

“What happened?” Lucas asked.

“Y/n and Steve scared them off?” Dustin replied.

“No way,” Steve disagreed, “they’re going somewhere.”

***

The five of you made your way back down the train tracks, trying to get back to Steve’s car so you could get the hell out of there. Lucas and Max had began asking Dustin questions, similar to the ones you and Steve had asked him when he first told you guys.

“When’s he gonna molt again?” Max asked.

“It’s gonna be soon. When he does, he’ll be fully grown, or close to it,” Dustin replied confidently. The thing had already grown significantly in just a few days, there’s no telling how long you had to find him until he was the nine-foot beast you were a little too familiar with.

“Yeah, and he’s gonna eat a lot more than just cats,” Steve added, unaware of the argument that it was going to start.

“Wait, Dart ate a cat?!” Lucas yelled the question, clearly angry.

“No, no he didn’t,” Dustin answered way too quickly.

“What are you talking about? He ate Mews,” Steve interjected clearly confused. You elbowed him in the ribs to get him to stop talking. You were already annoyed with these children 90% of the time; you didn’t need to listen to another one of their dumb arguments. You tuned out their yelling back and forth before you and Steve started to walk ahead, but then you heard a growl in the distance. You all ran at the sound, coming up to an overlook where you saw Hawkins Lab in the distance.

“It’s the lab,” Lucas finally said, “they were going back home.”

You started taking off towards the lab. You were going to finish this thing once and for all. Steve ran after you, putting a hand on your shoulder to slow you down. You whirled around already thinking of your argument when he told you that this was a bad idea. Before you could even get the words out, he was speaking.

“Hey, just promise me, whatever we do, we do together, okay?” There it was again, his pinky extended towards yours. You grabbed it tightly, looking him in the eyes with the most sincerity that you could muster.

“Promise.”

***

a/n: I hope y’all liked this part. Honestly I’m just excited for when I get to write Billy showing up and Max being a total badass, so if you’re interested in that stay tuned. I’ve been trying to crank these out as quickly as possible, and your engagement makes it all the more exciting to write them, so comment and reblog if you liked it!

#stranger things #joe keery #steve harrington #netflix #friends to lovers #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington friends to lovers #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington x reader blurb #steve harrington x you #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x reader #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington angst #steve harrington the babysitter #steve harrington x reader fanfic #steve harrington fluff

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artstar1997 · 5 months

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Blurred Lines

Ever since I watched Trolls Band Together, I had a lot of questions sticking in my brain like gum under the tables or bleachers that can’t be removed. If you ask me, I treat these plotholes like a crime scene investigation or a science experiment in the laboratory. Sorry if there is too much information and scientific facts added to it because I found out that people with ASD like me prefer logic, accuracy, and clarity to guide my judgement because they’re consistent.

With Queen Poppy and Viva, they look semi-identical based on their designs, which makes me see that they’re fraternal or identical twins. Identical twins, are meant to have identical DNA but they differ somewhat in appearance and are not the same in terms of height, physical features, and many more so yeah, that might make sense.

Maybe they were isolated from one another in the troll tree for their safety and Viva remembers Poppy more than her because she would sneak around to be with her. There wasn’t any evidence about who is older and younger but what I know is that Viva wasn’t targeted by Chef, it was Poppy instead. It might be due to Poppy’s status as the heir because I discovered that in a legal system based on primogeniture, which favors the inheritance claims of an eldest child or his or her children over the claims of other relatives, an heir apparent is generally the eldest child, who is entitled to claim the property and titles of his or her parent. While rewatching the first Trolls movie, I noticed that King Peppy, Poppy and the other trolls escaped in the morning of the Last Trollstice so Viva and the others might escaped late at the night when Chef was exiled and there were other Bergens living outside Bergen Town so Viva’s escape might’ve happened at that time. Come to think of it, some trolls are up and running when they hatched out of their eggs like ducks and horse foals (cough* cough* Tiny Diamond) and compared to us humans, troll brains absorb memories and instincts fast or faster like sponges.

Maybe Poppy doesn't remember much about Viva because she kinda looks like she has Autism and ADHD. I read that children with autism have memory challenges that hinder not only their memory for faces but also their ability to remember other kinds of information. That's the same thing I struggled with as well.

I also based this theory on my life experiences because as an eldest child myself, I experienced the things Poppy had been through as I grew older and I am shorter while Viva kinda reminds me of my younger, taller sister.

I also read about sibling psychology and discovered that Poppy has more oldest sibling traits than Viva, who has younger sibling traits. I noticed in the movies and the animated series that Poppy exhibited the traits I listed, but she only has two youngest sibling traits, evidently mischievous and risk taker while Viva has two oldest sibling traits, usually cautious and conscientious. They both share the traits of fun loving and creative so I didn’t add them in my chart.

With the BroZone, it’s obvious to see the details about who is older and younger among them because of the features I noticed. It was evident that John Dory spent his years alone in the wilderness, Spruce established a business and had a family in Vacay Island, and Clay escaped with Viva and the others on the night when Chef was exiled and lived in the abandoned mini golf. Floyd on the other hand, he must’ve wandered around on his own until he was found by Velvet and captured him to fulfill her plan to become a popstar, alongside Veneer.

With Velvet and Veneer, they must’ve ended up that way because the Mount Rageon lifestyle is focused on partying and hedonism that they become victims of neglect and favoritism. Velvet was spoiled rotten by their parents, who were dentists while Veneer was often pushed to the side, causing him to lack willpower and only be a doormat for her when she cooks up schemes. Veneer possibly got Sparkles the goldfish as by the parents to shut him up while they spoil Velvet as if she was a treasure they can cherish and maintain. This had gotten worse possibly if the two experience bullying in school for being talentless.

Whatever my mind was thinking, all I know is that there are blurred lines in there.

#dreamworks trolls #trolls band together #trolls 3 #speculation #theory #fan theory #theories

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caramelcleopatraa · 6 months

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Needy

pairings : Roman Reigns x Black/Shy Reader

plot : you are having a calm night in while roman is on the road. while watching one of his matches, you start to get hot and bothered. Unbeknownst to you, he's already come back from his trip.

wc : 1,800~

x : a drabble I came up with a few days ago. shouts out to the lovely @harmshake for motivating me to post this / excuse any errors that you see :( I've practically been writing all day.

In all honesty, you weren’t a needy person. “I never need, I always want” was the motto that your friends came up with that perfectly describes you. You’ve always taken what you got and never complained, no matter the circumstances. Sure, you knew your boundaries and what you loved to see, hear, and experience. But you never found yourself asking for more of someone or something. So you questioned yourself on why you were lying in your bed, lightly massaging your folds, trying to string together incoherent thoughts and words, with the image of Roman replacing all thoughts in your mind.

Let's back track

It’s a calm Friday afternoon. You finally got a day off from your job, and you weren’t going to do jack. shit. Instead of being productive, your day is filled with the smell of popcorn, and the large tv in your living room playing a show you kept promising your friend you’d give a try. You took the time you had to catch up on everything, in fact. You already decided that this whole weekend would be you catching up on shows and anime you are majorly behind on. Meanwhile, Roman is still on the road with his cousin and the wiseman, which is something that you grew used to. He was scheduled to come back on Sunday, so you were left with an empty house. You loved the off chances you got an empty house though. But your mind couldn’t help but think about how he’s been doing. Which led to you going on peacock and rewatching his crown jewel match with LA Knight. You were always his number one supporter. You honestly loved watching your man work, commanding and demanding with every step inside the ring.

You can’t help yourself as your eyes drift over his bronzed torso. His broad shoulders, his beautiful arms, and his sturdy hands. You observed him as he took his time toying with his opponent and the audience, always flashing his irresistible smirk. You find yourself shifting on the couch to get comfortable, and fidgeting with your ring, trying to give your hands something to do. As soon as you get comfortable and lift your head to look at the screen, Roman has Knight in a headlock while smugly smiling and saying “I call the shots. I call the shots baby.” Your thighs unconsciously rub together at his baritone voice. You missed hearing his voice. On the other side of the house, next to you on the couch, directly in your ear. Of course you miss him. You couldn’t go a day without missing his presence, his hypnotizing and tempting presence.

Your hands slowly rub your thighs as you watch the match transpire. You adjusted yourself one last time, letting your thighs part under your fur blanket. You tease yourself by running your hands from your knee to your inner thigh, never taking your eyes off the screen. You didn’t dare to look away. An exhale you didn’t know you were holding exited you as your fingers slowly ghosted over your clothed heat. You continue letting your fingers lightly feather against your core, until your finger presses against your shorts, resulting in a small gasp. You started to make your way to your pulsing clit, rubbing yourself through your shorts. Your hips move and grind to match the pace you were setting, along with small mewls and whimpers that left your mouth while roman raised his title in front of the crowd. You always found it sexy when he did anything with his title. Him swinging his belt, him showing it off by raising it above his head, him caressing and adjusting it. Hell, even him just putting it on did something to you.

Your right hand stayed busy on your clit while your left hand trailed up your body to your breasts. Softly kneeling them and pinching your nipples, like he would. You wanted to call him. see him, hear him, anything. You felt around the couch for your phone and clicked his contact to facetime him. Your phone laid propped up on your coffee table decor while you impatiently waited for your sexy ass man to answer.

Facetime Failed

Fuck

You reached out to call again, but you stopped yourself. You figured there was a good reason why he wasn’t picking up. He was always one to answer his phone. To say the least, you were horny. Honestly embarrassed that seeing him in a match made you such a mess. You grabbed your phone and pranced upstairs to your room. You settled comfortably in your shared bed while you picked up where you left off. You didn’t even need the tv to encourage you anymore. You were already imagining what he was going to do to you when he got home. How his calloused hands would caress you gently before pinning you to the bed. How he would lick and suck every inch of your body. The daydreams in your head made you dizzy with arousal. The first time you ever felt needy. To say that you wanted him was an understatement. You needed him here, laying beside you, touching you, kissing you, fucking you.

Your hands worked to pull your shorts and your panties off, discarding them somewhere around the room. Your fingers impatiently rubbed your clit and massaged your slick folds. Soft moans occupy the space around you, making the tension in the room rise. Your fingers gravitate to your pussy and easily slips through your folds. Your hands are already setting the pace that makes you go crazy, as you could no longer try to stay quiet. A second finger is added and your hips buck to meet your fingers halfway. “mmmh fuck”, Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you go faster, using your other hand to rub your aching clit. You were already so worked up, that you could cum at any moment. “aaahh- oh shit!” You tease yourself, playing with the place and adding little slaps to your clit, just like he does. Your stomach starts to tighten, and your well formed words become babbles and whines. Normally you would be ashamed that you got to this point all by yourself, but you didn’t care. You craved this feeling more than anything, and you were willing to chase it. “oooohhh- fuck i miss you babbyy. uughh shit i’m cominngg!” Your back arches off the mattress as you feel yourself getting close. Your body starts to shake and your pussy tightens around your fingers as you cum. A mix of screams and whines leave your mouth as you start to feel high from the orgasm you just had. Your chest visibly rises up and down, desperately trying to catch your breath.

“Damn mama, you miss me that badly?” A voice that you know too damn well. You quickly sit up and see your husband leaning on the door frame, wearing his irresistible smirk. You’re fumbling to try and cover up what just happened, not knowing it was too late for that. ‘What do I tell him? What lie can I make up that makes sense in this situation?’ Mentally you’re freaking out, but you’re wearing the same surprised smile since he announced himself. “umm- how are you- you were supposed to be back on sunday- umm- shit, is today sunday?” Your sentence were cutting off one another. You nervously giggled while pretending to look for your phone. To no surprise, he caught your bluff immediately. “Sweetheart, I don't know why you’re shy. I’ve already seen everything under those covers.” He said seductively, walking towards the bed to join you.

The bed dips as he slides next to you, teasing you with a smile as he closes the gap between you two. “So, what’s got my wife all hot and bothered? hmm?” He chuckles while lightly stroking your face. You almost forget that he asked you a question and melt into his touch. Your eyes shy away from him as you answer “just missed you, that’s all”. His hand comfortably wraps around your neck as he inches closer once more, pulling you into an intoxicating kiss. Your lips moved in harmony with his. It started off gentle, interrupting long kisses with playful pecks. Roman’s grip on your neck loosens and his hands rest on your full hips, pulling you to his body and deepening the kiss. Your arms snake up his body and around his neck, removing all options to back out. His lips trail down to your jaw and slowly inches towards your neck, his warm breath coast over your neck before harshly sucking on your sweet spot. You bit your lip in hopes that you could silence your moans, but roman wasn't having that. Roman’s right hand kept you in place while his left hand snaked down the small of your back down to your plush ass. The combination of him squeezing your ass and sucking on your neck made you go crazy.

You couldn’t hold back your moans anymore, he was making you feel too good. “Missed hearing you baby.” He said breathily, watching you unwind from his touch. Your leg hooked onto his as you grinded against his length, making a mess on his pants under the sheets. He pulled away to observe the marks he gave you as you stared at him in awe. You could never get over how beautiful he was. His hands slipped under your arms to your back to unhook your bra and pulled it off you to expose your chest. You were completely naked, but felt bold. Your small hands pushed his shoulders down to lay flat on the bed. You took the opportunity to straddle him, tracing down his arms and guiding them around your body, caging you in. Your faces were barely an inch away from each other. You lose yourself in your husband’s facial features, scanning every part of him. You catch eyes lingering on his beard. His salt and pepper beard always caught your attention. He catches you staring at him and you were unable to stop him before he made a smart remark. “You like it?” He smiled, showing off his pearly whites. Your eyes connected with his chocolate ones. You felt needy again, he didn’t have to do much and yet, you felt like you needed more of him. “Like what?” You said, mirroring his smile and lightly giggling. He followed suit, chuckling along with you, his laugh vibrating through his chest. “You’re staring at it like you like it mama.” You felt your heart flutter at the nickname. You were experiencing so many feelings at once. You wanted to make him feel what you were feeling. You wanted to make him feel good. You started to roll your hips against him again, earning a deep groan from him as you kept eye contact with him.

“How ‘bout i show you how much i like it?”

( so I was thinking about making this a part one and a part two. later on, would post the full version of this. I just wanted to post this as my first "long fic". lemme know what you guys want me to write next lovelies 🪴🤎

~ your hippie author )

#roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns #roman reigns smut #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x y/n #roman reigns x you #roman reigns x chubby reader

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wen-kexing-apologist · 1 year

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Moonlight Chicken is For the Queers

Ok I started my rewatch of episode 8 and figured out what I want to talk about for this series' finale: intentions and resolutions. This post will be about intention, and how I truly feel that Moonlight Chicken is a gift for queer people. Why? Well, there are many reasons, but for the purposes of this post, I will simply present the following title card.

Moonlight Chicken, Chapter 8: The Self-made House and Home

(if you are expecting this post to be anything other than a jumbled mess of my personal experiences with no clear through-lines or relevant transitions between sentences, thoughts, etc. then turn back now)

Whatever we want to say boy loves started as, fetish or otherwise, queer people are still able to see themselves or get comfort and representation. But coming from watching literally 25 boy loves in the last four months, this show feels different from most (not all) of them, to me, because of how strongly this show centers around built community, rather than romance, as it's central theme.

And yeah while any standard friend group in BL could be considered community in the abstract, the idea that they are a community is never quite presented. It's Team taking food from Pharm and all three of the gang teasing each other, it's Kuea and Diao spending most of their time talking about their relationships, it's Porsche forgetting Pete exists because he's so caught up in Kinn. More often than not we are building towards and hoping for declarations of love between two characters. And do not get me wrong, that is all well and good, and always what I'm rooting for in those shows. And we get something akin to that in Moonlight Chicken too, which is when you finally have Li Ming and Jim calling Heart and Wen (respectively) their boyfriends.

But the "I love you" we get in Moonlight Chicken? That isn't between the couples, it's between Li Ming and Jim.

Because the thing that makes Moonlight Chicken different from other BLs is the emphasis it puts on queer elders raising queer youth. It's about queer youth learning from queer elders and queer elders learning from queer youth. It's about how home and birth families don't always fit quite right, and how you build families and homes despite. And it's applicable to many people, children in abusive homes, disabled people, etc. too. Which is why P'Aof adds strained parental relationships and deafness in to this piece. But because this is fundamentally a BL show, I'm viewing this more through a queer lens.

So naturally, this also means I am informing my analysis of this show through my feelings as the only (known/out/visible) queer person on either side of my family. When I was little, a decade or more before I realized I was queer, I asked my mother one night if I was adopted. I'm not, and I know that, but why did I ask? Because I never really felt like I fit. Not the way I was supposed to fit, not the way family was supposed to fit together. My house never felt like a home.

And it's why I love this exchange between Wen and Jim at the end of episode 2

"I want home," "Don't you already have one?" "I don't." "A person like me doesn't fit to be anyone's home,"

And technically we know this isn't true. Wen does have a home, he has a condo, he has a place to sleep. But emotionally is where the problem lies. Wen is living with his ex, the apartment is cold, he has work colleagues and a friend that he and his ex both know and that's it. And as he tells Jim in episode 7, all his friends are straight. And then he meets Jim, and there is a spark, and maybe it's possible for home to grow there.

Literally, physically, I have a home. I have a family. But the more I embrace my queerness, the more I understand and am comfortable with myself, the more isolating and cold that house and family feel. I'm such a different person now than I was, and there are homophobes and transphobes on both sides of my family, and that makes it hard for me to feel like I am loved. Even when logically I know I am. But it's hard, when your mother says she accepts you and has yet to use my pronouns properly despite me being out to her for over a year and having three separate conversations about it. When your uncle spends twenty minutes or more complaining about trans people, when your cousins don't think trans people should exist. That's my family...technically. That's my home...technically. But it hasn't felt like that in years. So I understand what Wen means here, Wen's definition of home is not a place it is a feeling.

And Jim? We know Jim is already everyone's home. He is home for Li Ming, he is the closest thing to a parent that Leng has in his life, he makes sure the community not only has food, but has as much as food as they could possibly eat. He is first and foremost a community caretaker. But he is so wrapped up in his grief about Beam, his self-hatred, his stubbornness, his exhaustion that he is not able to believe that about himself. Home is a place and not a feeling for Jim, because he can't allow it to be.

The key to Wen and Jim's relationship is finding and building that home.

Home, Family, Community. These are incredibly important themes to Moonlight Chicken and those themes are incredibly important aspects of being queer.

I don't know how Thailand is re: homophobia and transphobia, if kids risk the same chance of getting kicked out of their homes for being queer, etc. But that is a very real possibility for many queer people in the States. But I'm thinking of homelessness in queer youth, how 28% of queer youth have reported experiencing homelessness in their lives. I'm thinking of ballroom and ball culture and how participants in the Ballroom scene were parts of Houses with mothers and fathers at the head of them who acted as mentors to their queer children. When I think about queerness and what it means, I think about ballroom. I think about connection, I think about community.

But that community is often forged from necessity borne out of isolation. What do I mean by isolation? I mean the isolation that Li Ming feels in school, around his school friends. I mean the faces Li Ming makes when his friends are talking about girls:

I mean the physical barriers the show places between Li Ming and his school friends.

It is the isolation that comes with queerness, with poverty, with everything about Li Ming. Beyond the fact Wen is a little younger than Jim and thus better able to understand and see Li Ming's desires to be seen as an adult. I think it is this state of listlessness in Li Ming is also something Wen recognizes. I think at this point Li Ming is so desperate to get away, to go to America, to be listened to and respected by Jim.

Jim who is too caught up in constant stress to see the home he has built for himself, Li Ming who is too caught up in wanting to be understood to appreciate that he has a home to run from. Wen who is working as a go between for Li Ming and Jim because he wants them to be his home. Heart who has been trapped at home and found his freedom because Li Ming understands the frustration of misunderstanding, and the importance of community.

I'm thinking about how so much of the final episodes are dedicated to showing community, showing family, showing the audience that home lies in the collective.

We see it in how many people rush to help Mrs. Hong:

We see it in the people who help you carry your grief:

We see it in how deeply and broadly the pain is felt when community pillars are lost:

We see it in the end of and era:

We see it in the olive branches:

And in new beginnings:

Very few people in these shots are connected through blood, but they are a family. And when I look at these shots the only thing I can think about is how I felt the night I threw a party for all my trans friends. All I can think about when I see these shots of everyone sitting and eating together is how many times I would look over to my friends and see them beaming. How many times someone came up to me to excitedly say this is the first time they felt like they could fully be themselves. How everyone kept asking to do an event like this again. How everyone kept asking to be added to a group chat at the end of the night so they could keep in contact.

And I remember how it felt for me to realize that I had built a community for myself in a place that I have really been struggling to feel was home. Because I had spent so much time in school and work, barley able to scrape together enough money to cover expenses, exhausted and stressed and unable to see what I had sitting right in front of me.

And I think about other queer people I have met, who light up when they see someone else who is gay, who talk about how lonely they feel because they only have one other queer friend. How immediately the need to invite them out, to introduce them to people, to make sure they have community strikes.

I think about how I worked at a summer camp out of state, and got to try out my pronouns, and figure out who I was, and then a few months later, I had to return home. Where I wasn't out yet, where I was going to get misgendered, and how quickly I came out to all of my close friends about my gender identity to try to mitigate how much my mental health tanked when I had to be someone my parents thought I still was. How at the same camp, the queer kids flocked to all the queer staff, how desperate they were to bond. How much lighter they got to be when they were away from their parents and allowed to be themselves around people who also understood not only them as people with the identities they held, but also their struggles existing in a household that didn't see who they were.

I think about how, in the States at least, "are you family?" is/was used as code for "are you gay?"

It's why it is so important to me that Moonlight Chicken ends with the line: "I just built a home. I don't want to move anywhere."

Because Wen has finally built his home. Because he has found his family, his queer community, his home. And yeah, we get the romance, yeah we get Li Ming and Heart holding hands, and Jim and Wen making out, but the emphasis of the final episode is moving forward, being brave, allowing yourself to love, and allowing yourself to stop, look around, and realize that you've made a home for yourself that is built of the people you love who love you in return.

Community building is a huge part of life for literally everyone, but it vital to the survival of marginalized communities. And when I think about my own relationship to queerness, one of the most sacred and important aspects of being queer is building the family you need.

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jackie5656 · 1 year

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Sneaking Suspicions With; Tangerine (Bullet Train)

A/n: Are we proud? Two uploads in two days. This is how I procrastinate doing any homework. Could not get this idea out of my head so here we are. This is my first for Tangerine, but I just recently rewatched Bullet Train and couldn’t resist. Had to add Lemon too because it’s simply not complete without him. Also, the bit about Thomas is all true, I was obsessed with that show when I was young. Enjoy!

Summary: The one where your boyfriend attempts to build a kitchen table, and nearly slaughters your neighbor...

T/W: A LOT of cursing, some suggestive humor, mentions of violence...duh

“Bloody fuckin’ hell.” You wince as tools clatter in the kitchen. Discarding your current task of rummaging through boxes with Tangerine’s scribbled writing marked ‘bathroom’.

You’ve finally moved in to the new place after months of preparation. Having been together for 8 months, it was about time you moved in together. Tan practically lived at your old place anyway, though taking this step was intimidating for both of you. His brother had egged you on for months, desperately wanting their shared apartment as his own.

Hence why Tangerine is sat on the floor, muttering curses as he attempts to assemble your dining table.

“Tan, why won’t you let me help you?”

“I told you, I’ve got it, love. Fucking bastards,” his shoulders tense with anger as he speaks. “Can’t even make a buildable fuckin’ table. I’ll show them ‘quick and easy’ right up their fuckin’-”

“Did you even look at the directions, baby?” He furrows his brows, turning to you like you’ve grown another head.

“Directions are for morons.”

“Or for people with zero table assembling experience.” You mutter, fighting a grin under his tense stare. He wipes a bead of sweat from his brow, only sporting a wife pleaser and trousers in the summer heat. You internally cringe at the reminder your stubborn boyfriend intends to install the air conditioner on his own as well.

“Maybe we could ask Brian across the hall, he said he does construction for his dad part time.”

“You chopping it up with that lad already? Right git, he is.”

“He’s nice, Tan.”

“He’s a flirt, and a shit one at that.” It forces a laugh from you, Tangerine frustrated that the sound still manages to ease the tension from his muscles.

“I’ll ring Lemon, then.”

“I swear to Christ, if you call my muppet of a brother-”

And that’s how Lemon ends up knocking at your door, takeout in hand and a bright smile on his face at the sight of you.

“Hello, lovely. Call for reinforcements already?”

There’s a distant “fuck off” from the kitchen, but you nod nonetheless, thanking him for the food and much needed company. Lemon’s rooted for your relationship even before his brother. Insisting he get your number that fateful night in that shitty club all those months ago.

***************

You’d been sharing drinks with a group of friends when a man bumped into you, nearly knocking you over with the size of him. He’d caught you by the shoulders before you could fall, sending the drunken, clumsy patron an icy glare before surveying you for any injury. He’d clasped both his hands around one of yours, profusely muttering overly-posh, accented apologies. You were ready to cuss out whoever had been so careless before you laid eyes on him, overwhelmed with the British charm and piercing eyes.

“Can I buy you and your friends a drink? I’ll be out of your hair after, promise.” His sincerity makes you want to request he sticks around the rest of the evening, though you shake your head. Polite commonalities ingrained in your nature.

“Not necessary, I appreciate it.” You assure with a kind smile, ignoring your friends gawking at the pin-stripe clad gentleman. He nods, not wanting to make you any more uncomfortable as he gives your elbow a gentle squeeze in one last apology. Heading back the way he came, sitting beside another well-dressed man at the bar. What looks like a round of chastising from the raven-haired man, and the handsome stranger is waving him off, glancing over at you and taking a generous sip of his drink.

“You did not seriously just turn Poseiden-incarnate down.” Your girlfriend finally manages to close her slacked jaw, frustrated with your shyness.

“He was just being polite, Brooke. I didn’t want to have him buy for the whole table in obliga-” A waitress approaches before you can finish, smiling brightly at the lot of you as she sets down a round of espresso martinis.

“The gentlemen across the bar insisted. On him, of course.” The older woman shoots you a wink, a chorus of cheers from your friends in salute to the man across the way. He sends a kind smile, tilting his own glass and looking like he hates the sudden attention. He meets your eyes for only a moment, starting up conversation with the man beside him in a silent obedience to his promise of leaving you be.

It’s hours before you see him again, headed outside for some fresh air after spending too much time on the dance floor. You’re sober enough to hold your own, comforted in the array of bouncers nearby if needed. You’re sat on a bench just in front of the club, craving some relief from your heels. There’s a flick of a lighter beside you, a curse when it doesn’t ignite any flame. You’re searching through your clutch instantly, offering up your own light without a second thought.

“Didn’t take you for a smoker.” You perk at the accent, trailing the extended arm to meet the man’s gaze for the third time that evening.

“Don’t. Not cigarettes, anyway.” He smiles through the now ignited stick, quirking his head in quiet contemplation. His eyes study you, and surprisingly, it’s almost endearing. There’s no suggestive indications to his observations, like most men you’d encounter. It’s contemplative, as if he’s trying to figure out.

“You always stare at strangers?” Your wit pleasantly surprises him, and his grin grows despite himself.

“Apologies, love. Just taking it all in. Mind if I sit?” You nod, thanking the cold for the constant flush of your cheeks that’ll hopefully conceal the blood that rushes to them at his words. “Never got your name.”

“Y/n, nice to meet you.” You take his extended hand for a shake, wincing at the formality of your words.

“Tangerine, pleasure’s all mine.” He awaits the usual ‘like the fruit’ with sudden irritation, but it never comes, so he relaxes.

“That a nickname?”

“Of sorts.” You don’t pry, not interested in scaring him off just yet. If he wanted to tell, you, he would. In his mind, Tangerine thanks you profusely. Pleased to have met someone uninterested in forcing information out of him.

“Whose your friend?” You mean the other good-looking guy beside him the entire night, who must still be inside.

“Brother,” he corrects, not unkind. “Hoping he won’t be trollied on the way home.” Your eyes narrow, unaccustomed to the slang. Tangerine exhales a stream of smoke away from you, wetting his lips with a twinge of amusement.

“Drunk, love. Or wasted, as you’d put it.” A laugh escapes you, thoroughly entertained with his dramatic mock of an American accent.

“That is not how we sound.” You nudge his shoulder with your own, defensive and patriotic for likely the first time in your life. “You guys are still salty we won.” He bellows a laugh this time, and the warm sound erupts butterflies in the stomach.

“Blokes chucked boxes of tea in the ocean in retaliation. The fuck kind of war crime is that?”

“One that proper fucked your economy.” You attempt your own dramatic accent, curious as to why he tries so hard to fight smiling. You assume he’s usually much more stoic without the aid of alcohol and new company.

“Bloody hell, that was awful.” He teases with no real ill-will, stubbing out his cigarette when his brother stumbles out of the building. You hear him mutter something about ‘shit timing’ as the taller man approaches, kind smile adorning his handsome features.

“You’ve found your Edwards!” He clasps his hands together, absolutely delighted before he sits himself in between the two of you. Tangerine looks absolutely pissed, astonished when you beam brightly at his intoxicated brother.

“Edwards?” You question despite Tangerine’s shaking head of warning.

“Edwards.” He assures, adjusting his suit jacket as he gets comfortable. “Wise, kind...We’ve only just met, I know. But, you see, I’m great at reading people.”

“Christ, here we fucking go again.”

“Everything I learned about people, I learned from Thomas the-”

“Tank engine!” You finish for him, the pair shocked at your enthusiasm. “That was my favorite show when I was little!”

“You don’t say?” The man beams, looking over at his brother with an undoubted stamp of approval.

“Swear it. Had the stuffy for years, an entire train table set too.”

“The one with the wooden tracks you could build yourself?”

“And the magnetic crane to lift up the figurines!” The two of you are absolutely enamored, enthralled in the conversation whilst Tangerine broods opposite you. Making a mental note to shoot his beloved brother in the foot the second he gets him alone.

“Bloody hell, I loved that set. What a coincidence!” He turns to his brother, shaking with anger.

“Fuckin’ unbelievable.” Is all he manages, messing with the rings on his fingers to calm himself from the outright cockblock. Fuckin’ muppet.

“Names’ Lemon. Pleasure to meet you doll, truly. A real Edward, you are.”

“You really think so?” The alcohol ends any fight to conceal your pleased expression, glancing over at Tangerine who forces a smile at your grant of attention.

“Know so. Brother over here’s a Gordon, don’t you think?”

“I could see that.” This time you’re the one to study said man, lip quirking when he shifts under your gaze.

“Alright, we should get you home.” Tan rises with a roll of his shoulders, ready to head back with his head hanging low in a failed feat. Lemon frowns, pushing away the strong arm that’s pulling at him so he can dig through the inner pocket of his expensive jacket. Pulling out a folded and well-worn sheet of paper.

“Here comes the fucking sticker book. Of course.”

“You know I bring it everywhere. Here, love.” Lemon peels the Edward sticker from the sheet. Sticking it onto your finger with a soft ‘boop’. You gasp, delighted.

“The lady’s real chuffed, Lemon. Let her get back to her friends for Christ’s sake.” He pulls the man to a standing position, waving down an approaching taxi with an ear-piercing whistle. “You got a friend getting you home safe, sweetheart?” You nod, pressing the new sticker to the back of your phone and pressing your case back on it. Aiming to keep it safe indefinitely. Tan suppresses a smile, finding it absolutely adorable. He buttons his jacket, straightening in self-discipline to push away the love-sick thoughts.

“Have a good night, you two. It was nice meeting you.” There’s a hint of sadness in your tone, the farewell and the unlikeliness of running into them again tugging at your heart strings. Weird, considering you just met the two men and you already want to get to know them more. Especially the handsome fuck with the unrelenting charm.

“Like-wise, love.” Tangerine ushers his brother into the backseat of the car, muttering something to the driver before turning on his heel to face you again. Brows taught in consideration. He battles with himself, weighing if he’s selfish enough to try and get to know someone as seemingly kind-hearted as you. You’d deserve better. He surveys you a final time, every nerve-ending in his body begging for more. You’re about to head back inside when he clears his throat, grabbing your attention.

“Any chance you’d be willing to give me your number, sweetheart? Just to make sure you get home safe?” He prays it doesn’t sound too hopeful, as desperate as he is for you to comply. You cock your head incredulously, and he swears his heart skips a beat.

“Just to make sure I get home?”

“And maybe to ask you to dinner. Or, you say no and I fuck off.” You chew on the inside of your cheek to suppress the excited grin. Hoping you appear nonchalant despite yourself. Taking a few steps forward, you extend your hand. Brows raising in expectation as he stares at you. He snaps out of it, digging into his pocket with a muttered ‘oh, right.’

“All right mate! Thought you’d never get the balls to ask her. Been going on and on about her since you nearly tackled ‘er”

“Fuck off, Lemon.” Tan seethes, eyes averting to you when you giggle through your rushed typing into his phone. “He’s drunk, pay no mind.”

“Trollied, right?” There’s teasing heavy on your tongue, and it takes everything in him not to pull you in for a kiss right there. On the curb of some mangy club whilst the impatient driver honks in warning.

“Right. Goodnight, love. Careful getting home, yeah?” You nod, mindlessly standing up on your tip-toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Night.”

And with that, you’re headed back inside. Feeling his eyes on you the entire time. Only looking back when the door closes behind you. Ensuring he can’t see you spying. He has his head down, biting a smirk from his lips before gaining composure, tossing himself into the cab beside his brother.

***********

“You’re not needed, I have this handled.”

“You don’t actually. I’ve seen corpses more capable of brain activity than this, mate.”

“Piss off.”

“I would, but I like your girlfriend more than you, and therefore don’t want to leave her with this,” he motions to the mess of tools and table parts, “all alone.”

The two of you sit opposite him, Lemon unfolds the discarded instruction sheet with a deep sigh.

“You’ve got the wrong bolt on that one.”

“No I don’t.”

“You do, mate. Considering I’m the one with the fucking instructions.”

“See, if I was a fuckin’ mug like you, I’d need the directions. But I’m not, so I don’t.”

“Well, you must be. Considering that’s the wrong fucking bolt.”

You rub your temples, fighting an oncoming migraine. Taking the drill from the floor and setting it counter-clockwise to remove the damned bolt. Tan takes it from you, setting his hand on your stomach to push your criss-crossed form backward.

“Hey!”

“What did I say? I didn’t want you doing this, Dove. You’ve just gotten those nails done. I-” He stops himself, taking a breath. “We got this covered.”

“This seems patronizing and sexist.”

“Quite the opposite. I respect you so much I’d rather not have you sit on the floor and do this.”

You huff, arms crossed as you glare at him. Too worn out to argue, and figuring there’s an array of boxes to be unpacked, you scramble to your feet.

“Fuck you.”

“Maybe later, love. I’m quite busy at the moment.” The cheeky response gets a laugh out of even Lemon, who straightens as soon as your heated gaze snaps to him. You flip them both off, no real anger to it as you head back toward the bathroom.

**********

Another couple hours pass and you’ve finished both bathrooms and are working on the master bedroom. Airpods in to block out the onslaught of arguments. You hum to your music, unaware of the eyes on you.

Tangerine leans against the doorway, finding comfort in watching you in your shared home. It’s weird, new, to share just about everything now. Scary, no doubt. Tan had walls around him so high it took months for you to even shake them. But you’ve done it, somehow. A little minx, he regards you, because you’ve managed to get through to him sometimes without him even realizing. He’s eternally grateful whatever scraps of good karma he had left accumulated to bring you into his life. Terrified it might one day be ripped away. Every time the thought passes his mind, his throat tightens, and he gets the overwhelming urge to hold you and never let go.

Your startled gasp snaps him out of it, a hand clasping over your heart in shock. “Christ, Tan. Give a girl a warning.”

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He swallows, a beat before continuing. “I love you.” Your eyes narrow at his sweet tone, trying to uncover the mischief in his sultry voice.

“What’d you do?”

“Nothing, honest. I can’t say I love you?”

“You can.” You turn your head from him, suppressing a smirk as you busy yourself with folding clothes. “Just...Not in the hall, okay?”

“What? Why?”

“It’s just,” you’re holding in a laugh now, a death wish for sure. “I don’t want Brian to hear, that’s all.” He crosses his arms, hiding his clenching fists at your teasing.

“You think that’s funny? Taking the piss like that?” You muffle a laugh with your sleeve, morphing it into a cough. “Tread lightly, my love.”

“You know, I bet Brian builds loads of tables. Must be real fast at it, considering he works in construction and all. Lot’s of strong men in that field of work.”

“Y/n.” Your name is rare on his lips, singed with irritation. You’re clearly well-past having him worked up, You press on, keen on getting him back for his suggestive comment from before.

“I always wanted to get to know a blue-collar type. So hardworking, great with their hands-” You’re in the air and flopped onto the mattress yet to have a bed frame before you can even process it. He cages you in, an arm on either side of your head to support himself as his eyes bore daggers into yours. Curls unruly and dampened with sweat.

“Stop it. Or beloved Brian’s in a body bag by tomorrow morning, yeah?” You know he’s not entirely serious, but also entirely capable, so you nod. You press your lips together, thoroughly amused. He takes your jaw in his hand and uses his thumb to pull your lips free. Tugging you into a kiss, he’s only satisfied when you gasp after your bottom lip is bit. Not too hard, he’d never hurt you, but it’s enough warning to shut you up. He gets up, hands on his hips and breathing heavy as he watches you get to your feet. Wordlessly, he sweeps a leg under yours, chuckling when you’re collapsing back into the mattress with an umph.

“You really are a fucking Gordon, you know that?” There’s no time to scramble away from his lunging form as he tugs you by the ankle toward him. One hand grabbing your arm and the other on your leg as he hoists you over his shoulder, cheekily reminding you of the power imbalance as he carries your squirming form down the corridor and into the kitchen. Where Lemon lays sprawled out on the now standing table. The air conditioner hums across the room, and the faux argument is ripped from your mind as you survey the accomplished tasks.

“Nothing a little teamwork and drive can’t do,” Lemon boasts. “You know where I learned that, Tangerine?”

“If you mention the fucking trains, It’ll be the last thing you fuckin’ do.”

*************

“Tan, could you pass the lo mein?” Your boyfriend chews thoughtfully, considering it for a moment before extending it to you. Your eyes narrow when he pulls away as soon as you reach.

“Maybe you should ask Brian.”

“My god, we’re still on this?”

“Should have known better than to tease him with another man, love. Gordons are prone to jealousy.”

“Fuckin’ pipe it, Lems.”

“It was a joke, baby. Are you gonna hold this over my head forever?” You find it endearing, hard to believe Tangerine could think there’s even a hint of honesty to your teasing.

“Until I’m sure you’re proper guilty, yeah.” There’s a hint of play in his tone, and you know he only wants to hear you repeat your devotion.

“Tan, love, baby, sweetheart, love of my life, will you please pass the lo mein to your dutifully devoted girlfriend?”

“Sure thing, love. Could have just said so.” The playful banter is stuttered to a halt when Tan sets the box beside you, the legs of the newly built table creaking as they give out. With their instinctive reflexes, Lemon and Tangerine keep the entire thing from collapsing. You’re slack-jawed, in utter shock at the absurdity and slight victory of being right, as god damn usual.

“Dove,” your boyfriend’s voice strains under the exertion, meeting your eyes “be a doll and take everything off here?” You’re up in an instant, quickly snatching the array of food and plates off the surface. Lemon begins to laugh despite himself, and Tangerine seethes with frustration.

“Maybe we should-”

“Don’t. Don’t even think about saying that fuckin’ muppets name.” Tan stares daggers into his brothers eyes, paying no mind to your stifled giggles. When they finally set the table on the ground, you approach him. Tugging at his arms so you can wrap yours around his waist. You press your chin into his chest, running a hand through his unruly curls.

“Baby.” You’re soft, tone so sweet and eyes big and pleading.

“Lose the puppy eyes, doll. It’s a no.”

“I personally would like to finish dinner not on the floor. But that’s just me.” Lemon purses his lips, brows raised expectantly at his brother.

Tan releases a deep, shaky sigh, dark gaze softening when he meets yours. He tries to tug his head away when your hands hold it, but you’re insistent, making him face you again.

“I’m all yours, alright? I promise.” You kiss both his cheeks and then his neck, some tension leaving him. He tilts his head in faux irritation when you stick out your pinky to him, grinning when he finally gives in and wraps his much bigger one around yours.

**********

“It’s already so nicely decorated in here.” Brian surveys the room with a polite smile, turning to you. “All this is your eye, y/n?” You straighten, hoping the man won’t notice your boyfriend’s homicidal stare.

“Tan has more taste, admittedly.” You’re not just trying to take the attention off you, it’s the truth.

“Well that should be obvious, he got you.” Lemon coughs, setting a hand on his brother’s shoulder with tight, grounding grip. The slightly shorter man boils beside him, eyes boring into yours in an enraged ‘I told you so’.

Your neighbor places his work bag on the floor, cringing at the sight of the flattened table. He approaches the brothers, clueless, patting their arms with sympathy.

“Should have gotten me earlier, guys. You know you can call me over any time for some help. Handiwork isn’t for everyone, some things are just left for the professionals.

“No kidding.” Tan mutters, letting Lemon pry his fingers from the biggest kitchen knife you own when the man’s back is turned to them.

“We’ll have to grab brunch sometime, y/n.” He’s blissfully unaware as he talks between rounds of the drill. Unscrewing mistakes and penciling out where they should actually go. “I’ll fill you in on the rest of the neighbors. Some of the ones to avoid and all.” Lemon’s practically wrapped around his brother, praying to a god he doesn’t believe that the clueless fuck will shut up. You cross the room while he drills away, placing your hands on Tan’s chest and pressing into him. He can’t even see you, can’t even feel you as his blood burns his own skin. Considering the fasted method of kill and cleanup over and over again in a final stitch to calm himself.

“You’ll have meet Cody first, of course. I’ve already told him there’s finally another young couple in the building. Thank god.”

“S-Sorry, mate?” Lemon loosens his grip in realization, fighting a bellowing laugh.

“My bad, I tend to drill when I’m talking. Cody gets on me for that, too, This is what I mean, sweetheart. We need to escape the doting boyfriends for a little. Enough to drive anyone nuts.” He shoots you another smile, pleased to see you nodding profusely.

“Absolutely.” You turn to Tan, whose brows are taught in utter confusion. “They can be a real pain sometimes.”

“But, alas.” The drill whirs, he stops talking for a beat and then releases the trigger to finish. “We love them.”

“To bits and pieces.”

Tan collapses against the counter, right exhausted from the strain of keeping his composure. Pure relief washes over him, and you let him pull you into an embrace.

“Boys, would you mind helping me turn this right side up? i think I’m all finished here.” They comply, Tan reluctantly pulling away and kissing your temple in silent apology. Together, they set it upright and each give it a good shake to ensure it’s stability.

“Thanks, mate. I owe you.” Your boyfriend gives the now beloved neighbor a firm shake, a hint of guilt in his eyes.

“British and handsome, you two are truly a killer pair.” Brian gathers his things and checks a notification ding on his phone. Sighing fondly. “Speak of the devil.” He waves his phone to you with a lighthearted roll of his eyes. “See you all soon.” Giving you a quick hug, he exits as soon as he came.

“Most definitely not a diesel, that bloke.”

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