#today is a tough day because its the last full day of school

[simple-and-cozy-life]

I've been so stressed from the changes happening in my life that I forgot that, even though this is going to suck, God is going to get me through this transitional time. Eventually, I will have the stability that I need and I will have a family.

Life will persist and so must I.

[belokhvostikova]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | After finding out about their exclusion from the school yearbook, Hellfire—Eddie Munson—isn't keen in letting his feelings fall for your attempt to fixing said issue.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, yelling, crying, and mentions of bullying.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Don’t know why, but I have an obsession with referring to Eddie by his full name, lol. If there are any necessary warnings that were accidently left out, please feel free to let me know!

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 | One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞

By the coming of the fall season of 1982, the Hellfire Club had garnered the stigma of satanic cultists that tainted the lives of those associated. 

What started as a throng—four losers—of curious minds, on an endeavor to escaping the suffocating suburbia of Hawkins, Indiana, transpired into a league of camaraderie, fighting the hellscape of dark wizards and evil lords. Perfect comb-overs and pristine pom-poms who lived on the green laws that housed Reagan signs couldn’t touch them under the guise of their characters who built their strength and thick skin to defeat the wicked of suffering towns and cities through quests. Those four were invincible in the threshold of the drama room.

But in the real world, they had a target on their backs that merely grew as the years passed. 

And Eddie Munson was victim number one, placed at the forefront of all propelled abuse. 

But the beauty of Hellfire allowed the proffering of solutions, in which he quickly found solace within. See, the notion of characters, and qualities, and disguises permitted the perfect opportunity to build a facade unlike one’s truest self, that protected the vulnerable inside. 

The terrors of childhood abuse, loss of loved ones, and the torment of classmates couldn’t be seen on the sneering smirk and scowling eyes that accompanied Eddie Munson everywhere he went. The act of toughness was not a thing to be found difficult; he saw it in its worst quality within the bruteness of his father, and he saw it in its best quality within the perseverance of his uncle. 

Eddie Munson had no issue opening his arms to those who were caught in the pressuring seas of conformity, and he surely had no issue abusing back those who started it first, with a insult or shove being met with his harder kick and punch.

See, both aspects of toughness.

And while the idea may have protected him from the superficial blows of a socially divided high school, it actually hurt the potential improvements to his well being, suppressing all that left him weak and vulnerable, and choosing the outlet of a drink or substance that disabled his mind from the thoughts of reality. 

But Eddie Munson couldn’t care about himself, no ever did anyways. 

Until you. And he hurt you. 

“This is bullshit! Complete and utter fucking bullshit!” If it hadn’t been for the cacophonous shrills of the school cafeteria, surely Eddie Munson would have garnered the usual attention from his antics. But instead, everyone’s attention was captured by the occurrence that was happening on the southern end of the crowded room. “I mean, really, what the fuck is this?!” His broad hand flung a pretzel out of frustration, not bothering to acknowledge the innocent bystander that got caught in the crossfire of his heated action. 

To say Eddie Munson was pissed would be the understatement of the century. 

The gnawing agitation that seemed to innately follow him wherever, had now been triggered by the bright smiles of individual students, paraded in their best attire, with glee of acknowledgement. Today was club picture day, and Hellfire was not included. As the lunch period progressed to its ticking last minutes, students of all age ranges savored the remaining bits of their glorious thirty minute break from school hell, but not Eddie. Nope. Because for every minute of those thirty minutes, Eddie watched as clubs, one by one, walked the notorious stage where all Hawkins High’s productions had been showcased, and sat with cheesy smiles at the notion of being a valued representative for their school’s yearbook.

But not Hellfire.

The heavy, black curtains provided the cleanest backdrop for its low budgeted cost, giving ample focus to the students, who sat with the straightest of all postures, amongst the perfect array of chairs—the good ones, too, not the ones that make your butt go numb after twenty minutes. Row by row, everyone had a place, even being complimented by the two large, fake plants that added a splash of color with their faux green leaves. 

Gareth sighed. “It really is, man.” He turned back from watching the drama club get their picture taken, returning to pick at the cold spaghetti that stained his plastic tray. Everyone got photos, Hellfire got stale food. “But what do you expect, dude? This school already treats us like garbage, as it is.”

“We shouldn't tolerate this treatment, Emerson!” Eddie snapped, slapping Gareth’s hand that was causing the insistent scratch of his fork scraping his plate. The boy could only scoff in defeat at his ruined lunch, now that his plasticware landed on the dirty tiles of the lunchroom. 

Eddie was becoming revved up. He groaned in irritation, feeling the need to slam his palm into the table, eliciting the flinches of each boy.

“Look, well, there’s nothing we can do.” Mike, at an attempt, reasoned with Eddie. But he merely got a seething glare that asked him who does he think he’s talking to. 

“Oh, no?” Eddie snuffed with a mocking face. None of the boys were daring to challenge his eye contact. None of them ever did when he got like this. His worst days. “You boys gotta learn to take what you deserve.” He spoke too calmly for anyone’s liking. “It’s the only way people like us make it through life.”

Eddie jumped from his chair, the force too heavy for the flimsy thing, as it scraped the tile flooring before clashing with the ground beneath. All eyes were on him. Puffing the laps of his jacket, he strutted his way to the stage, all leather and chains, bumping shoulders with those who stood in his way. Done diligently, his worn sneakers stomped the couple steps, announcing his arrival. Those in the drama club were quick to move out of the way, refusing to become belittled for their judgemental stares against the Freak. But they were disregarded. Closest to Eddie Munson sat Nancy Wheeler, co-editor of the 1986 Hawkins High Yearbook. She rolled her eyes, fidgeting with her precious pen that had been used to check-off every name of every member of every club to ensure publication was precise and correct.

“Wheeler.” Eddie taunted, coming close to her table, tightly-balled fists supporting his weight as he leaned close to her face. “Funny,” he peered at his watch, “lunch is almost over and you have yet to call us up.”

There was no need to clarify “us.” Everyone knew—for worst reasons—who they were.

Nancy huffed, professionalism embedded in her character as she responded with such cadence, “That’s because you’re not on the list, Eddie.” And it was such professionalism of cadence that ticked him off. As she held up the roster of all clubs and members, contaminated with the ink of her pen, scratching titles off, Eddie snatched the paper from her hold, Nancy wincing at his aggression. 

“The Art Club, the Aviations Club, the Math Club,” He read off, “the fucking ROTC shitbags!” He slapped the paper down with a harsh slam. “Some fucking wannabe soldiers, who aren’t even a fucking club here, can get their fucking picture taken, but not Hellfire?!”

Nancy was attempting to control her emotions from the ambush of his angry words, his spit coating her delicate makeup with every yell of his tirade. “Look, Eddie, that’s the list Principal Higgins gave us.” She pointed between herself and you. 

Shit, she pointed to you. 

You, who’d been quietly watching this shitshow go down, standing near the edge of the stage, with a camera held tightly in your sweaty palms. While his outburst had you racking with worry, it also elicited a wave of sympathy due to their obvious exclusion, clear as day as to why Principal Higgin’s didn’t want their association with Hawkins High. It was fucking awful. 

But Eddie Munson didn’t see you. He saw you.

You, as in the fake smile that accompanied your obnoxious cheers, where’d you hangout with your bitchy friends, mingling amongst Jason Carver’s goons, before heading back to school the next day where you ran the student body government, finding yourself involved in all school activities, making the Principal's List and Honor Roll every year, and was about to be crowned prom queen by May and valedictorian by June.

And now, partnering with the Newspaper Committee to create ‘86’s yearbook.

Though he may not have known you, Eddie Munson fucking hated you. 

He followed Nancy Wheeler’s pointed finger, now aiming his degrading scowl that shot bullets at you, and you peered down from the intimidating stare. “Oh, I see!” His terrorizing laugh stifled the already straining atmosphere. “Fucking, little Miss Pom-poms jerked Higgin’s cock to make sure we weren’t included. Isn’t that right, princess?” His sneering smile showed just how amusing he found your evident discomfort to be, as he marched his way towards you, the tip of his toes scuffing your pristine sneakers. “Tell me, sweetheart, was Carver there, too? Huh?” 

“N-no, w-we didn’t do, uh-”

“Uh, uh, uh.” Eddie mocked. You could feel his large eyes scan your face, taking in all your features, and seeing your chest heave from the confrontation. “Bunch of fucking pussy, all of you, huh?” He glared, refusing to break from you luring eyes.

Saved by the bell, the obnoxious ringing gave you an out, and Eddie was quick to jog back to Nancy, who was beginning to pack up her station. For a second, his daunting demeanor relinquished, and his eyes softened with panic. “This isn’t fair, Wheeler, and you know it. C’mon.” He pleaded. “We’re as much of a club as any other bullshit clique here.” Eddie tried to reason, as Nancy sighed, trying to quickly gather her things.

Despite his hostile behavior, there was merit to his concerns. Hellfire was a club, and though Eddie Munson was the biggest asshole you’ve ever met, you understood his petition. Everyone knew why they weren’t included. They were never included. 

“Your own brother is in the club.” Nancy stopped in her tracks and looked at Eddie. “Look, I’m sorry, Eddie, really, I am. But if you have a problem, take it up with Higgin’s not-”

“Maybe we can just take their picture.” You felt stupid for interrupting, hearing your voice waver under their snapping, stern stares—one more of anger than the other. “Um, Higgins already approved of our, uh, layout, so he may not even see the final draft until it’s already been printed.”

“And then what, we get in trouble? Not happening.” Nancy affirmed, more comfortable with disregarding Hellfire than staining her clean track record. 

Eddie scoffed. “Fucking screw this!” He stood straight, adjusting his posture. Any shot at his ego and feelings went unnoticed, as he returned to his callous attitude. There was a moment in which he simply stared you down; all that was clouding his judgment was your refined Hawkins High cheerleading sweater. Your well known name printed at the forefront—cursively embroidered in velvet gold—encasing the pinnacle of all things Eddie Munson hated. As Nancy Wheeler left you be, Eddie trudged his way against you again, hot breath fanning across your smaller stature. “I don’t need your fucking bullshit pity. You understand?” He gritted with clenched teeth.

 And he merely left it at that, nudging passed you, as he joined the stagger of students who were fleeting out of the cafeteria. 

And you stood in disbelief. 

-

You were crazy. You were out-of-your-fucking-mind crazy.

It was late into the night, and you were ready to break school rules for something so trivial, but seemed so desperately important to others.

You groaned in the palms of your hands, as you stood outside of the newspaper room, stolen key in hand. Why were you even doing this? Eddie Munson was an asshole to you. He didn’t like you. But this wasn’t for him. No, this was for the other members. Yeah, the other members, like Nancy’s brother, Mike Wheeler, or Lucas Sinclair, you sweetest kid you’d ever met on the basketball team, who were both totally innocent in all. Jesus shit.

“Hey!” Chrissy waved out to you, as you watched her flood out of the gym doors with the rest of the squad from practice. Clearly, your plans of leaving early to avoid them fell through. “What are you doing, I thought you left already? You coming?”

“Yeah, no, I just need to check over some things for the yearbook.” You lied, with your infamous fake smile. “Don’t know how long it’ll take, so I’ll just have my dad come pick me up.”

“Make sure my picture is front and center!” Jessica joked, as the girls laughed, and waved you goodbye.

As soon as they left, your head dropped back in your clammy palms. In all honesty, leaving would probably be a better choice, right now; you could drop your heavy cheer bag, get out of your sweaty shorts, have a nice bath, and dine out on some food. But instead, for whatever reason you tried to excuse in your brain, you’re here. Probably getting ready for whatever shit Eddie Munson was going to shout in your face when you appeared. 

But fuck it.

-

“The weathered wood creeks beneath your feet as you confront the abandoned foundations of Barlok’s Tavern.” An unnerving sense consumed the boys, as Eddie’s bravado narrations subjected their quest through the ominous grounds of Havocs Beacon. “The merchant of Dunbar Armory has promised this place to be of pure seclusiveness, unknown to even the commoners who dwell the treacherous forest.” All attention was sucked, this was the escape. The escape from the conformity that abused the boys. And Eddie Munson was their protector. “The fate of decision lies in your hands, boys. Do you enter or run?”

They peered at one another, unsure of their next move. “Remember, there is no shame in running.” Eddie’s malicious smile worried them.

But before a consensus could be determined, a soft knock spooked the boys, Dustin’s shriek being most evident. Eddie’s eyes shot at the door, narrowing with his brows furrowing. Everyone went quiet. Too quiet. Maybe they misheard. But sure enough, a delicate knock came again.

Eddie trajected from his throne. “One of you expecting someone? On Hellfire night?!”

His agitated voice was quick to receive a series of stern no’s and insistent head shakes that saved the boys from an invective of shouts for interrupting Hellfire. But for whoever was behind that door? Yeah, they were about to be hit with a diatribe of yells. 

Eddie’s breath heaved with irritation as he stomped his way to the large door, swinging it open with a heavy, “What-” But he was quick to shut up. 

You timidly dropped your balled fist from the air, and held eye contact with Eddie. His gaze was intimidating, but unlike the earlier occurrence in the lunchroom, it was weirdly softer. His eyes widened at the tired state in which you appeared; sweaty hair messily splaying your head, face heated from clear exertion, your lip plumped raw from your nervous chewing, and then he looked down. Unabashedly, too. You watched his eyes peer at your glistening chest that was displayed from your low cut long sleeve, then found his attention primarily focusing on your tight spandex shorts that hugged your hips and exposed your legs. 

“Um.”

His eyes shot back to yours, but you lost the ability to formulate words, both of you staring silently at one another.

“Uh, Eddie?” Jeff’s voice snapped him back to reality, as he turned back to see his buddies—all terribly confused—watching his blanking face obviously check you out.

His vulnerability was showing. And just like a switch, Eddie turned back to you, “What the fuck are you doing?!” You cowered at his sudden yelling. “We’re in the middle of a fucking campaign!” 

“I-I’m sorry.” You stuttered from embarrassment, as you saw his friends watch and wince at you. “I-I just needed to, uh, take your photo. F-for the yearbook.”

“What?” He scoldingly questioned you. 

“Your picture, um, Hellfire’s picture.” You pointed to his shirt. 

Before Eddie could get another word out, Gareth, who you only recognized as a random friend of Eddie's, did, “We’re getting our picture taken?” A small smile appeared on his face at the idea of inclusion.

“Wait, seriously?” A young, curly-haired boy spoke up.

There was a glimmer of hope oozing from their expressions, one that they didn’t get to experience often or lavish in, just at the mere idea of getting their picture taken, because it was a big deal, and seeing their excitement was enough to take Eddie’s hatred with honor to grant them their wish.

So you nodded your head. “Yeah, I’m here to take your picture.” You smiled, waving the stolen camera to prove so.

“Is this some fucking joke to you?!” And just like that, your smile was gone. “Don’t mess with their feelings for some sick joke!”

“N-no, this isn-”

“This is just a prank?” Eddie’s friends’ sullen voices simultaneously asked. 

“No!” You were quick to assure. “I promise, it’s not. I would never.” You ignored Eddie’s scoff. 

“Then why didn’t we get called up during lunch?” Mike, who Nancy Wheeler informed you about, asked. 

“That was totally on me. After lunch,” you nodded towards Eddie, “I asked Higgin’s why you weren’t included, and he was just as confused.” You lied. You never visited Higgins. It was obvious why he didn’t want to include them. “And, well, apparently it was just some fluke with the system, and you guys were included! All of you, uh, Eddie Munson, Mike Wheeler, Lucas Sinclair… and t-the rest of you.”Lucas gave you a shy wave, which you softly returned, as he’d always shared his sense of not fitting in just yet with the basketball team. You were there to reassure he was okay and welcomed—and right now, thanking god that you knew him and Mike’s name to confirm your lie. “It was all on the revised list, and I should have checked the first one better. Totally my fault.”

Eddie stared at you warily. 

“So, uh, come on!” You smiled, and the guys were quick to flood out of the drama room. 

“Wait! W-We’re in the middle of a campaign!” Eddie warned. “We’re not fucking stopping for some dumb photo! I mean, c’mon, guys.”

Everyone stopped.

The younger faces of the group fell, as they contemplated going back or following you. Jeff sighed, walking up to his longtime friend with pleading eyes. “Come on, man. Just let us have this.” He whispered. 

Eddie groaned, taking in the faces of the younger crowd, and nodded regardless, “Fine.” And a cheer of the younger boys echoed through the empty halls. “I’m bringing our logo! Wait- can I bring our logo?” Dustin—the young, curly-haired boy—asked.

“Uh, yeah, by all means, go ahead.” Logo? With a gummy smile, he ran back into the drama room, shortly returning with the round shield that mimicked the drawing on their shirts, encapsulating all that was the beauty of Hellfire. 

Lucas smiled up at you, “So where are we going?”

“Oh, well, I didn’t have time to set up the fancy stage, so…” you thought quickly, “…against the wall in the main hall should be fine. Is that alright?” You grinned back. “We can just hang your logo up, though you guys will definitely stand out from the formality of the other photos.”

“Good.” Eddie mumbled. “Wouldn’t want to conform to this bullshit school, anyways.” He sneered, bumping into you with no apology. 

Ignoring his hostility, you cleared your throat and directed the group of boys into the main hall, clear of all lockers, and decorated with plaques and awards honored to the Hawkins High establishment throughout the decades of operation. Catching sight of the familiar photo of Principal Higgins—one that had been countlessly vandalized by yours truly, Eddie Munson—you made the rash decision to dismantle it from the rusty nail that was drilled in six years ago when he first became principal. “Okay, hand me your precious shield.” You smiled at Dustin.

“Handle her with great honor, your majesty.” He unleashed his greatest—not so great—British accent with a bow to his knee. 

You giggled, joining his playful antics, “Wouldn’t think to do any less, kind soldier.”

Eddie studied your interaction. His lips were fighting to flash a tiny smile, but his ego was stronger, choosing to focus on his sneaker scuffing the floor rather than you. 

You, who was breaking every belief in the Munson Doctrine about prissy cheerleaders who hung off the arms of meathead jocks, and who was actively making his group of bullied outsiders feel included with your kindness; such kindness that Eddie was adamant he could not fall for. No matter how nice, how pretty, or enticing you were, all he saw was you. 

You stepped back from hanging up their logo. “Okay, how’s that?” You asked the boys. After Dustin’s insistent need of a little to the left and just a bit to the right, it was perfect. “Alrighty, you guys line up there, and we can take a couple.” You smiled.

Every member was quick to find their designated spot against the wall, Eddie though, he slowly walked up beside you, as his friends got ready. He sighed, as he looked down at your warm face, “Are you actually putting us in the yearbook?” For a moment, you wanted to savor the little moment of bliss, in which Eddie Munson wasn’t throwing an insult or condescending comment towards you, but his genuine concern about your sincerity had your heart aching at his unmistakable plea to wanting to be included, also. 

You softly spoke with a gentle nod to your head, “Yeah, of course.” You smiled at him. “Right where you guys deserve to be.” But his deep stare into your eyes had you pulling back from the moment that was happening, “J-just like Higgins said to do.” You were quick to add. 

 His heart could only manage a tight-lip nod back. “Right. Higgins.” He eyed you before joining his friends. 

You took a deep breath. “Okay, guys-”

“Wait, you don’t expect us to, like, stand up straight or whatever?” Mike interjected. 

“No, no,” you laughed, “be yourself, do whatever you’d like and just be comfortable.” You smiled, holding Eddie’s eye contact for a second longer than the others. “Okay, big smiles!”

Lining the camera to focus on the seven boys, you peered through the lens to see their uniquely catered pose establishing themselves through their individual personalities. Thumbs up, leaning postures, hands on hips, and beaming smiles, you snapped the photo with a large flash. You peered away from the camera and titled your head at Eddie. “What about big smiles did you not understand?” Your lips twinkled with delight of teasing. “You, too, Wheeler.” You giggled.

“Trust me, I look best without smiling.” Mike was able to rationalize.

You playfully rolled your eyes, “Okay, and your excuse?” You smiled at Eddie, who was undoubtedly using all his willpower to bite back a grin. 

“I don’t smile.” His stern voice was no match for his wavering smirk.

“Why not, it’s so beautiful?” You giggled, as his cheeks flushed with redness, apparent that he was not expecting such a compliment. “Come on, for me!”

His smile started appearing at you, though his friends were quick to ruin the moment. “Oh, you are so beautiful, Eddie.” Jeff mocked with a girly voice.

“Just wanna kiss you.” Dustin was quick to add kissy faces.

“Fuck off, both of you.” He shoved them, though his laugh was evident along with his smile, and were happy with such accomplishment.

Because you weren’t lying, Eddie Munson had a beautiful smile.

“Alright, alright, alright.” You laughed. “No more teasing. I want big, beautiful smiles—with the exception of Mike—so I can get the most perfect photo.” 

The boys shook out any giddiness, and were quick to, once again, get into their own poses. Eddie, for once, showing you his crookedly perfect smirk as he leaned into his friends comfortably. Instructing them to get ready, you realigned the camera and focused on their beings, capturing the fun that was occurring at Hawkins High’s center hall at 8:59 p.m.

“How lovely.” You smiled at them, as they cheered and excitedly congratulated each other for actually being in the yearbook. 

As you watched the utter glee consume their face, you caught eyes with Eddie. He flashed you a small grin, one that lingered longer than he was anticipating, but how could he not? No one had ever thought to include them, and here you were doing just that, tugging on the string of his heart because you cared. You actually fucking cared.

“Okay, um,” you caught their attention, “sorry for interrupting your game, you’re free to go back. I’ll be sure to have these quickly developed for the yearbook.” You smiled.

You were quick to get a multitude of thank you’s from the boys, though it was then when Eddie suddenly fell uncharacteristically quiet. He cleared his throat, snapping back to reality, and once again, his apathetic face was nimble to mask his genuine smile that was once shining on his face. As the boys started flooding back into the drama room, you turned to catch his staring at you, though when you went to flash him a smile with a small wave, you were only met with cold eyes that stared your figure down. The same eyes that degraded you nine hours earlier at lunch. The eyes that you thought you managed to break through after today. 

Speed walking away from his glare, you fumbled into the newspaper room, returning the stolen camera. You took a minute to adjust yourself, still stuck in your sweaty practice clothes, that only seemed tighter after Eddie’s scowl. But maybe you were just reading too far into it. He had been smiling at you before, maybe he was simply slipping back into his character to resume his campaign. 

Placing the camera back—Nancy was going to have one out with you when she found out—you locked up, closing the heavy door quietly behind you. It was once you did so, a heavy hand prevented you from walking away. Turning you around, you were, once again, faced with Eddie’s daunting demeanor as he stood over you. 

It seemed like a common occurrence now, that every time you came face-to-face with him, his unnerving eyes were always studying your face, from your eyes to your lips. “H-hi.” You gently spoke, breaking his trance from his detailed staring.

He cleared his throat, “I know Higgins didn’t tell you to do that.”

He wasn’t wrong, and it wasn’t like you exactly sold your lie too well. “Uh, yeah, b-but you guys still deserve to be included, and well, I’ll just take the fault if Higgin’s does find out. But I can assure you he won’t, so you’ll still be in there, I promise.”

Your reassuring voice that was laced with nervousness made him drag his hands across his face in frustration. It made all what he was about to do that more difficult. “Look, what you did back there…” He huffed. For a second, you thought that he may actually thank you and apologize for his previous actions towards you. But that’s not reality. “Don’t ever fucking do that again.” The way your face dropped had him slowing the lump in his throat knowing that he caused it. 

“W-what?” Your eyes became round with confusion, and Eddie screwed his eyes shut to refrain from looking into them and being swept away. “B-but I thought-”

“No, no, stop.” He cut off your quivering voice that was sinking his stomach into a deep pit. “I, uh, I told you before that I don’t need your pity. We don’t need your pity.” He casted his face down, unable to face your disheartened look.

“No, Eddie, I promise, this wasn’t out of pity.” You were swift to defend. “I did it because you guys deserve to be in the yearbook, just like you said. I swear-”

“You’re gonna get their hopes up!” His. His hopes up. You flinched at his booming voice, attempting to find the strength to control the stinging in your eyes. “Some gorgeous, popular cheerleader being nice to them, leading them to believe all’s good, they won’t get hurt, only to come back and find you and your friends tormenting them as if today never happened!” 

“No, I wouldn’t! I never even have! I’ll tell my friends to back off, Jason and Andy, I’ll tell everyone to stop, I promise. I didn’t do this to be some savior, you were just right earlier, and it wasn’t fair to exclude you guys.”

“Stop, just stop!” He couldn’t trust your words, though every fiber in his body was yearning to, but he just couldn’t subject himself to do so. His hands pulled on the roots of his hair. He wasn’t going to fall for you, in no alternate reality did Eddie Munson falling for a perfect cheerleader ever work out in his favor. He was an asshole before, and he’ll be an asshole right now, because that’s what kept him safe. “Just stay away from me- I, uh, my friends! Just stay away from my friends.” He choked with a shaky sigh, watching as you were fast to wipe away a running tear while looking away. Fuck.

He sighed, chest heaving with emotions he didn’t want to come out. “Just stay away.”

Eddie Munson was choosing to run.

Before he could crack from your glassy, round eyes, he marched back into the drama room with a heavy slam to the door, leaving you there.

Alone and crying.

[buterccup]

Hey I saw your price x son!reader post and I don't know if you already did one with a daughter!reader but when not could you do one?:D

Of course! You ask and you shall receive, dear^-^. Now I give you more papa Price for the soul.

Father like daughter

summary: You haven't had the best of days but once you got home you were met with non-other than papa Price...but also a couple friends of his, and they are as shocked as you are once you both meet for the first time.

Warnings: light swearing, fluff, she/her pronouns, a little bit of gen z shenanigans, small mistakes.

Character(s): Price x Daughter! reader (platonic)

You didn't have what you would call the best of days today. It wasn't because you had to walk in the cold, no you could handle that. It was because of the constant bullying and rudeness you've gotten at school. I mean everyone goes through bullying but you just couldn't handle it today.

Of course, you weren't in tears from the words they said, you were tough like your father. Although you were angry at the fact the reason you weren't tearing up at the words thrown at you was the reason you were picked on so much.

The fact your father was rarely home.

It's not like you hated your father for not being there, you absolutely loved him. He was the best father you could ever ask for. You just wished he was here more often. It may sound selfish considering his job protected many peoples lives but it was the truth.

You would've thought about how you missed your father more but you already arrived home and you had other things to do. But once you opened the door and the warmth of the house hit your face you suddenly heard a Scottish accent and last time you remembered you dad did not have a Scottish accent.

Did mum bring someone home? No, she was still at work..

After hearing the voice you slowly closed the door behind you and locked it before slowly making your way to the living room, dropping your bag and coat on the floor near the door.

But once you got to the living room door your eyes lit up with delight, forgetting about the voice you heard before, as an ugly bucket hat that clearly belonged to your father made its way into your line of sight...along with three other men.

"Dad there are weird buff men in our living room.."

Upon hearing your voice price turned around with a smile, chuckling at your reaction to the boys. Meanwhile Soap, Gaz, and Ghost all looked shocked.

Price has a kid.

"wait...DAD???"

"Soap.."

"Johnny-"

"HELP SOAP???"

"[Name]- please.."

To say the least, you were in shock. Why are there big buff men in your living room and why was one named Soap. You would've started laughing if it wasn't because of how shocked you were.

"I'm sorry for the sudden visit baby girl but I wanted to surprise you. Plus I wanted to introduce my team to you one day."

"Surprised I am-" you then talked back, your eyes meeting and scanning all three men. You liked the most normal looking one (Gaz). Meanwhile, your dad just sighed and shook his head with a smile at your response. "Well... [Name], this is Soap, Ghost and Gaz."

"What's with the goofy names...did your parent hate you guys or something-"

"[Name]-"

"Kidding! I know their codenames." making Gaz and Soap smile at your little interaction with your father, even though they were still a little bit shocked.

"How about you four talk to each other while I get some food ready?"

"Dad...I don't how a high school is supposed to get along with full-grown ass men"

"You'll find a way, good lucky baby girl." your father would say in a joking voice as he got up and went to the kitchen. He already talked to the boys long enough and wanted a break anyway.

"So what you wanna do?" Gaz's voice would pipe up, breaking the silence while you looked back at your bag filled with homework before looking back into the living room.

"shooting games?"

"Sure!"

It had been a couple minutes since you started to play this one shooting game called 'Calling of Loyalty'. It was a great game. Plus it gave you a lot of opportunities to make fun of Gaz's aim. Making the three of the guys think of their captain.

"Jeez Gaz have you gotten your eyes checked recently..."

"Father like daughter..."

Requests: Open

[supertrainstationh]

GAME GEAR

Super Train Station H

• • • • • • • •

Game Gear: keeps you busy till the train's here.

Full color screen, 8-bit graphics so vibrant they make your eyes tear. No one cared that it's just a smaller Master System, it had top tier games, so we put it into commission.

Stereo sound to listen, but only if you've got headphones: can't squeeze two speakers on something that predates iPhones.

Playing on the ride home - Dad's stuck in late night Brooklyn Bridge traffic, speed's a no-go: but I'm behind the wheel with Ayrton Senna racing in Monaco.

The glow of the screen, makes the back seat a party scene, the batteries running out now would be a bad dream - they drain faster than Sonic dying in "Sonic Spinball". Mom's got extra Duracells, she has it covered, so trust her.

Vanishing colored gems in "Columns" like Fruit Gushers.

"Fantasy Zone", a shooter with Lisa Frank syndrome, space combat so cute you don't wanna quit.

"Sonic the Hedgehog", where do I start with this? I admired Eggman's robot transformation gimmick, but roboticizing my animal friends is beyond my limit.

Doc mocks me with Cumming's Robotnik cartoon voice, because my head-canon for this game is multiple choice. Sally, Antione, Bunny,and Rotor are my back-up crew, gonna beat Robotnik, and all his Badniks too, and solve mechanical puzzles too tough for Nancy Drew.

The Doctor's sinister, his boss stages make my head spin,   but in the name of great justice: I gotta fight him - powered by six double-A's of bottled lightning.

Loved my Game Gear, for playing in the dark; nothing came near, but its nemesis the Game Boy was one for Sega to fear. Nintendo's black-and-white screen made Sega get cocky, let their guard down, but Game Boy came swinging like Rocky.

Smaller price tag - which the parents loved. Needing less batteries fit budgets like a glove. Barely small enough to fit into a 90's kid's pocket, looks like a brick today, but back then, it was some hot kit. You know Mr. Yokoi's team was proud of it. And the batteries lasted a lot longer too, you could play all day hiding it under your desk at school.

And Sega boned their own ads by dissing Game Boy fans, instead of luring handheld gamers with an olive branch.

Wow. What a system, How could I not miss it? Nostalgia soaring high like "Space Harrier" missiles.

I showcase it on Twitch to help spread the word, sometimes it's new to even long-time Sega nerds. I'd talk forever on Game Gear, you know I like this. But my batteries are low, so it's time to split.

[My Twitch] [My VOD Channel] [My FA] [My Ko-fi]

[space-mermaid-writing]

The black cat with blue eyes [Part 1]

Summary: One day Peter drags a cat into the tower he found in the dumpsters and Tony finds himself adopting it, because – honestly – he can not say no to Peter. It turns out the cat has really strange opinions on food, belly scratches and movies. What else? Oh yes, Doctor Strange is missing. But those two events are clearly not related. Clearly…

Relationship: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange

Tags: Temporary Cat!Stephen, Hurt/Comfort, life is trauma, friendship is healing, supreme family (kind of), it starts with angst and ends in fluff, a lot of fun in between, I swear this is fun

Ko-fi | Read it on AO3 | Masterlist | Word count: 7k | Part 2

Author’s note: This started - as so often - as a small idea and then it became something else. Black cats hold a special place in my heart.

This cat is strange...

The streets of New York were busy as usual. People were walking purposefully, caught up in their normal everyday lives. As far as one could speak of a normal everyday life, after half the population had been bliped and then had reappeared just as surprisingly five years later. It had been a shock for everyone.

Those who had gone missing, were now trying to fit back in. While the ones that had survived the blip in the first place were still trying to keep society going.

It wasn’t easy for anyone. People just tried to concentrate on the day at hand. One step at a time.

It was a cloudy day in spray. The sun had made itself scarce the last few days and that put a damper on everyone's mood. Especially the food vendors noticed that, when trying to attract customers around Central Park.

Like Stan, who owned a hot dog stand in the north end of the park. His numbers weren't great today either. There were only persistent joggers or dog owners in the park, none of them falling into the category of his main target customers. Hardly any teenagers after school or tourists who wanted to make their New York trip even more authentic with a hot dog (so they could brag about it back home).

To stave off boredom from the quiet day, Stan stepped up to his booth neighbor, a newspaper vendor. Both men knew each other well, having shared the space for years.

All the while, Stan didn't notice those watchful blue eyes that were observing him from the shadows, just waiting for him to leave his meat on the grill unattended for a moment.

The hunt had begun.

It was pure instinct and hunger that made the cat move. Stalking quietly, eyes locked on its target. One jump and it had a hot dog in its mouth – which should be way too hot, but miraculously it didn't bother the feline - and then fled with its prey.

But not fast enough.

"Hey!" Stan spotted the black cat and ran after it, even though the sausage was long lost. "Darn beast!"

The man stumbled (there was nothing in his way he should trip over, it was as if he had received a push from an invisible force) and the cat disappeared among the bushes.

The animal stopped only when it knew it was safe. Then it hungrily ate its meal.

It was an all black cat, once for sure sleek with beautiful long hair, now scrubby and broken-down. It picked its food out of the garbage or stole it when the opportunity was good. Like it had been now.

Life on the street was tough. There was no dignity left for those who wandered them long enough.

It was just a regular stray. There were hundreds of them in the city. Although, this one might have had an ace up its sleeve – as good magicians always did.

But that was about it.

It wasn't an easy life but a chosen one. The simple mind of an animal helped to forget. And the cat had every reason to want to forget. More than a single mind should ever endure.

The cat finished its meal.

Sometimes it thought of a stray dog it had met on the other side of the world. In another life. It had felt a connection to the other animal back then, like the fellow stray it was. Like the cat was now again. Life had come full circle.

The cat's ears pricked up as it heard a sound, a rustling in the bushes.

It was just a bird, but the cat was leaving anyway. It didn't feel safe staying at one place for too long.

_____________________________________

Peter and his friends were sitting on a bench in the park. It was the weekend and Ned's parents had sent the trio outside so the teens would get some fresh air and sunshine.

It was a crisp day and they wore their jackets as they talked about their upcoming school projects and spring break plans. And, of course, about Star Wars.

They ate the sandwiches Ned's grandmother had packed them. She always made too much, but they were so good the kids ate them all anyway. They were, after all, growing teenagers – at least that was their excuse. (And at least with Peter and his enhanced metabolism, it wasn't wrong).

Peter noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye and picked the ham off his sandwich, which he rolled up. With that, he lured the shy animal out.

"What are you doing?" MJ asked, her eyebrows raised in question as she watched him hold the ham toward the bushes and click his tongue.

"Just wait. I've seen them a couple of times. They look like they could use the food."

Ned was joining in immediately. He had never been allowed a pet, so he was over the moon when the cat eventually approached and ate the meat they threw at it.

MJ was naturally more suspicious. "I thought only baby cats had blue eyes. Most change color after the first three months.

"Maybe a gene abnormality," Ned guessed and that made the girl re-think, because it would actually be cool. Still, she kept an eye on the cat.

The feline remained cautious and while it was offered food, it evaded any attempt at petting. The message was clear: no touching.

It sat under the bench, peering out from between the teenagers' legs and politely lifting its paw to ask for more food. It devoured up every treat as if it was afraid they would be taken away from it.

Finally, the teens stood up and shouldered their backpacks. "Bye, kitty. We gotta go." They waved at him.

"Don't tell my Nana we fed her sandwiches to a cat," Ned told his friends.

MJ took one last look back. The cat was still sitting under the bench, staring after them, tail twitching. She swore those blue eyes were not normal.

_____________________________________

It was raining cats and dogs when Peter ran through the streets of Manhattan. He was late (it was his own fault, because he had dawdled to leave after school). His sneakers were not waterproof and soon even his socks were wet.

Maybe he should have texted Mister Stark and asked him if he could send a car. But Peter still had a hard time asking for anything of the man, even everything they had been through.

It was Peter’s senior year. He was about to graduate from high school and his college application was already out (He had only sent one).

He had pulled the hood over his head and was dodging passersby with umbrellas. As he did so, he was careful not to get too close to the road, because cars weren't paying attention to whether they were splashing pedestrians. Like now, when a car that passed by way too fast. Thanks to his Peter Tingle, the boy had stopped just in time and prevented the worst.

But not everyone was so lucky.

First he thought he was just imagining it, but then he heard it again: a small meowing sound. And when he turned his head to the side, he saw a drenched black cat among the garbage bags that had been placed along the road for collection day.

Peter realized that Central Park across the street and the feline had probably come here in search of food. How it had managed to cross the street alive with all the traffic was a mystery.

The cat – Peter recognized the blue eyes – looked worse than ever. The rain of the last few days had not done the stray any good. It’s fur stuck in weird ways and it looked even thinner than the last time Peter had seen it.

Peter bit his lower lip. His heart ached, but he was still late and it wasn't like he could just take a random animal home.

The passers-by started complaining to the teenager that had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. So Peter stepped to the side, towards the cat. It shook its fur and a few drops flew off it. It did little to help with the soaking wetness. The boy crouched down, put his hand out and went for a classic 'pspsps'. It got him the animal's attention and the blue eyes locked on the boy.

Whatever Peter had expected to see, it was not the resignation he saw. The feline looked so very tired, as if it had already seen far too much in its short feline life.

And didn't Peter know that look, because it sometimes stared back at him from his own reflection.

How many of its nine lives had this cat been through?

The animal approached slowly, bare paws on the asphalt, sniffing Peter's fingers in hopes of food. Unfortunately, the boy had already eaten the lunch he packed this morning.

"Mrrew." It sounded like a soft sigh when the cat realized Peter was empty handed. It was about to turn away when Peter all of a sudden swooped it up in his arms. The cat wiggled and made an alarmed cry of protest, which did not faze Peter.

He opened the zipper of his jacket and took the cat inside. There he held it tightly and continued his way to the tower in fast steps.

_____________________________________

Peter carefully wrapped the cat in a towel and rubbed him dry. The animal still looked pathetic, but by now had quietly resigned himself to his fate. Perhaps he also realized that an unknown, dry place was still better than a wet pile of garbage.

Peter left him in the towel on the couch and went into the adjoining kitchen to look for something he could feed the feline. Fortunately, the refrigerator in Stark's penthouse was always well stocked.

He had just opened the door and winced when he heard a loud string of swearing. Apparently Mr. Stark had found the cat and was not happy about it. Peter rushed back.

"What is this wretched ball of fur doing on my couch?"

"IfoundhimintheraininthedumpsterhelookedsohelplessandhehasnohomesoIbroughthimhere." Peter took a deep breath. It was impressive just how much he could say in one breath.

Tony stared at him. He was a certified genius, but it took his brain a whole moment to filter out the relevant information from this far-too-fast gibberish.

His answer turned out to be a lot shorter. "No."

Peter blinked. "Please, Mister Stark! Just for a few days. Until it stops raining," he pleaded. His lower lip began to quiver dangerously. He had far too soft a heart for a superhero and took everything highly personally.

"Why don't you take him to May?" Tony asked as an alternative suggestion.

"She's allergic to cats."

And, shit, Tony really couldn't refuse the kid anything when he looked at him with his big doe eyes like that. Initially, when he'd found out about the boy's abilities and showed up at his aunt's house, Tony had seen him as someone he could sponsor. Just keep an eye on him.

But then came Berlin, the arms dealers on the boat, and all the other incidents. As time went on, their professional mentor/student relationship shifted more and more to this science parent and kid thing they had going on. And then Peter had followed him onto the flying doughnut.

Tony would never be able to forgive himself for that. Nor would he ever forget the boy crumbling to dust in his arms. He still had nightmares about that.

Now, Peter was standing in front of him, a can of tuna in his hand, looking like Tony was about to throw the boy's first homemade AI robot on the scrap heap.

He recalled a discussion he had with his own father many decades ago. When young Tony wanted a dog and Howard was adamantly against it.

"Fine. It can stay – for now. And we will scan it for diseases.” He gave in. Even if it was just a fuck you, Howard. Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to think too hard about his reasons, before he turned to the cat. "And you! I warn you only once, so listen closely: if you piss on my carpet, you'll be back on the streets faster than you can say 'meow'." The cat sniffed at his index finger, which he held out to it. But when he found no food there, he turned to Peter and the can.

"He won't," Peter assured his mentor.

"He?"

"Yes. It's kinda obvious if you look at him from behind."

"Alright, that's enough information. Actually, it's more than I wanted to hear."

The results of Friday's medical scan came back clean. So the cat was allowed to stay – for now.

_____________________________________

It was the middle of the night when Tony stumbled into his kitchen. Nightmares had jolted him out of sleep, and even though he couldn't remember exactly what horror scenario it had been this time, he didn't feel like going back to sleep anytime soon.

He turned on the coffee maker and listened to its soothing sounds when the cat jumped up on the counter and stared at him in a way that only cats could. Tony was too tired to see anything else in it.

"You hungry?...yeah, me too."

Contrary to his initial fear that the feline would annoy him, he hardly noticed his presence.

Tony grabbed a bagel and got cream cheese from the fridge. The cat stretched his neck, his blue eyes now completely fixated on the delicious smelling food. Tony placed a spoonful of cream cheese in front of him, which the animal began to lick contentedly.

The inventor took his coffee and breakfast (could it be called breakfast yet? It was only 3:14am in the morning) to his personal lab and opened the file of his latest project.

He didn't realize he wasn't alone in the room until he heard DUM-E moving around in the background and then a hissing. Outraged and with flat ears and arched back, the pet jumped onto the table, but even there he was not safe from the robot's claw.

"DUM-E behave," Tony instructed his artificial son. "Fri, keep an eye on Blue Eye. I can't have him getting hurt by something sharp."

Mostly because he could not stand the resulting drama with Peter.

Sulking, DUM-E moved to another corner of the room and silence reigned again. Tony looked back at his hologram.

But he could not concentrate. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, a sure sign that he was being watched.

He turned his head and looked into the black void the black cat had become by curling up.

Blue orbs stared back from the void.

Yeah, cats were a different kind of weird.

_____________________________________

Tony quickly discovered that his small roommate refused any kind of cat food. They had even tried the expensive one, but the feline turned up his nose when he saw this weird gibberish mass in his bowl (Tony wouldn’t want to eat that either) and demonstratively turned away.

Instead, he jumped up on the dining room table – something Tony had repeatedly forbidden him to do – and demanded to have whatever food Tony or Peter were having.

Tony had never had a pet and was only now learning that cats had an amazing amount of food they were able to eat. And the one living in his penthouse rent free apparently had a particularly culinary sense of taste. Whenever they ate take-out – and, admittedly, that was most days, because Tony didn't have the time or desire to cook – the cat appeared, meowing loudly and demanding. Whether it was pizza, burgers, sandwiches, Thai, or just fries. Once he even ate the salad.

But Tony drew the line when the cat sniffed at his mug of coffee. „No,“ he said and took the mug away.

„You won‘t like that anyway,“ he explained when he pressed the button on the coffee maker in the morning and lifted the cat off the counter.

„That‘s mine!“ he stated every time he moved his cup away from the feline in the lab.

„Don‘t you dare!“ he shouted when he spotted the cat across the room right next to a whole pot of coffee. He swore there was something wrong with this animal. The way it looked at him with that cocky smirk in his eyes was not normal.

The cat pushed the pot with one of his front paws to the edge of the table board. Tony raised his finger in warning. The cat pushed a little, not breaking eye contact. The pot broke on the floor and the cat jumped down to lick the coffee off the floor.

"I hope you choke on it," Tony growled as he set a small bowl of coffee down for the cat, the next time he fixed himself a cup.

_____________________________________

Tony had never been allowed to have a pet as a kid, and he was pretty quickly convinced that Peter had brought some fucked up result of an animal experiment into his house.

The cat hadn't even put one paw in the litter box. Instead, he sometimes disappeared into one of Tony's bathrooms. Tony followed him exactly once to see what the cat was up to. But the cat had only stared at him for so long until Tony felt like a creep and backed off.

Friday had no video access to the bathrooms – because Tony was not a creep – and so it remained forever a mystery what the cat did in there.

This creature looked like a cat, sounded like a cat and behaved like a cat (debatable! But Tony checked the internet and found a lot of people sharing weird stories about their cats) but Tony was not taking chances. He had seen talking trees and raccoons, flying hammers and spontaneously combusting people.

He crouched in front of the cat, who had flopped down on the couch and now raised his head in what Tony called the death stare, looking at him intensely.

„Blink once if you understand what I say.“

He waited for a reaction – any reaction – but those clear, blue eyes didn‘t betray a single thought. Tony moved his head slowly forward, not wanting to miss anything, until their faces were almost touching.

The cat licked Tony’s nose.

„Ugh, gross!“ Tony jumped to his feet, turning away and missing the one eyed wink.

_____________________________________

After a few days, the cat had settled in well. While in the beginning he had been hiding under and behind the furniture or watching everything from on top of the cupboards, Tony soon found him more and more often sleeping on the couch or following the man into the lab.

Peter loved the feline and whenever he was in the penthouse – Tony swore that was even more often now than before – he would scoop him up on his arms or pet him. The first few the cat had been reluctant, but he didn't stand a chance against the teenager, and eventually he'd given up to complain whenever Peter buried his fingers in the fur.

Even Tony had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that the fur was very soft. It also looked nice and shiny and healthy now, and not as scrubby as it had been in the beginning.

But whenever visitors came to the penthouse – it was admittedly not very often; only a few people had access these days – the cat disappeared. First Peter tried to coax him with food whenever Pepper or Rhodey came around, but with no luck.

"Stage fright, Blue Eye? You aren’t shy around me or Peter." Tony found the cat as soon as the doors to the elevator closed. The feline sat by the window, observing the city and fully ignoring Tony.

Fine, Tony had work to do anyway and went to his lab.

There was one person he had not yet tried to show his newest roommate. „Fri, babe, what day is it?“

„Thursday the tenth, Boss.“

One person, who hadn‘t shown up in a while and was late by over a week.

„Call Dumbledore.“

It went straight to voicemail and that was weird.

You see, after everything that happened on the flying doughnut, Thanos, that five year gap (aka Tony being angry about losing everything, including his final break up with Pepper) and then getting everyone back and defeating the mad titan – he kinda struck a friendship with the wizard doctor.

Maybe it was jump started by the fact that Strange saved Tony‘s life after he had used all the infinity stones at once. Plus he helped Tony build his new arm.

It also didn't hurt that Strange was really nice to look at. Like really nice.

Even after completion of the project ‘new arm who dis?‘ (not the best Tony came up with but he had started it as soon as Dr. Cho had cleared him off medical and he had been full of pain killers), they still met on the first Wednesday of every month to be snarky, arrogant and just being awesome together.

Strange kept an eye on Peter, whenever Tony wasn‘t around and Tony really appreciated that.

There was also a lot of flirting involved whenever the two men met, but that was just part of their charm and completely without any deeper meaning…

Tony was still in denial about his blossoming feelings for the doctor. And as long as he ignored them, they weren’t there. Even if he actually enjoyed the banter and the flirting and the way Stephen’s face lit up when… anyway!

Sure, sometimes the job came between their meetings. Tony may be retired (on paper), but Strange certainly wasn't.

He wasn't the Sorcerer Supreme anymore – due to technicalities as he always was fast to point out – but he still had a lot of duties protecting their reality.

He usually texted Tony when something came up. Maybe it was an emergency, but eight days was a pretty long emergency and Stephen had once mentioned that he didn't like to leave Earth for such a long time at a stretch.

So, Tony did the next best thing. „Friday, call Wong.“

He had kept in touch with the other sorcerer in the five year gap after the blip, albeit sporadically, because they all had more than enough to do filling in the gaps the snapped people left. It still was enough to excuse a friendly check in. Just to make sure that Stephen was okay and unharmed.

"Stark," Wong's always unamused voice greeted him a few seconds later. To this day, Tony didn't know if Wong even liked him.

"Wong," he mimicked his tone, but then got straight to the point, knowing Wong was no friend of unnecessary pleasantries. "Strange missed our awesome facial hair bros meeting last week and he doesn’t answer my phone."

There was a short pause before Wong replied. "He's not here." Did Tony imagine it or did he sound more annoyed than usual today? Maybe he was displeased to be treated as Strange‘s secretary.

„Okay, sure.“ Tony nodded to himself, starting to pace in the room. „When does he get back?“

„I don‘t know.“

Well, that wasn‘t very helpful.

„Did he leave the dimension?“ Tony asked anyway, unwilling to give up this easily.

There was a long pause as Wong actively hesitated. "I don't know," he said again, and that caught Tony's attention. He stopped walking.

„What do you mean, you don‘t know?“

"Strange disappeared a few weeks ago." That alone might have been explainable, but then Wong added, „… and he left the Cloak of Levitation behind.“

That had Tony alarmed. He had made acquaintance with the red piece of fabric that was unusually expressive for a being without an actual face. And Strange never left his weird magic castle without it.

Tony’s mind immediately jumped to various conclusions. „Any enemies that might got hold of him? Kidnapped by evil forces? Has there been a ransom demand?"

"We have no idea. It’s nothing we can trace with magic." His voice was clipped, concealing the paused anger at losing control of the issue. Wong was Strange's friend; he should have taken better care of him. The man couldn't shake the feeling that he had let him down.

"I'll try the tech way then," Tony suggested. "Nothing escapes the modern eyes of the ever-watching cameras."

"Thanks, that's appreciated."

Wong gave him the details of Strange's disappearance, the time period in which it must have happened (it was impossible to pin down exactly), and Tony promised to get back to him if he found anything.

He ran his fingers through his hair after hanging up. One of the most powerful sorcerers Earth had ever seen and someone he considered a friend was missing – that wasn't great news.

"Alright, Fri, run a face recognition search for Strange. Start in New York, then expand it world wide."

"I'm on it, Boss."

Tony propped his forearms on one of the tables and stared into space. If Strange had been gone for several weeks already, without a trace...that was very concerning. Briefly, the image of a cave in Afghanistan flickered before his eyes, but he quickly shook it off and focused on the map of the U.S. on Fridays screen and the small loading bar she liked to display for funsies.

„Where are you, Stephen Strange?“

_____________________________________

The fact that the cat rejected any kind of cat food didn‘t mean that he wasn‘t hungry. He had been starved when Peter had dragged him to the penthouse, and after overcoming his initial distrust, he began to bug anyone available for food three times a day.

"You're a menace," Tony growled angrily as the feline jumped up on the couch next to him and began meowing loudly to tell him that it was time for lunch. "A weird, precisely timed menace."

By now he was able to interpret his fluffy roommate's behavior well and knew that he wouldn't stop making noise until there was food on his plate. (Yes, the cat wanted to eat from an actual plate. Tony had never used so many dishes).

Since the cat was happy to eat whatever Tony was having, Tony had taken to simply ordering two portions at a time. Tony couldn't help but think he had been bullied into having a regular eating rhythm by a cat.

He had to admit that the company was nice. He talked to the feline as if it were a human being - he had already applied this mannerism with his AI sons and it hadn't done them any harm (except for Ultron, but there was always a black sheep in the family) – an sometimes the cat answered with a meow, so that it almost felt like a real conversation.

Tony balanced two plates of sushi to the table - no algae for the cat, just rice and fish. The feline jumped on the table and waited patiently, eyes fixed on the food and tail twitching slightly. He stretched his neck, annoyed that Tony was holding the plate just out of reach. The human teased him only briefly, then finally put the plate on the table and at the same time gave him a kiss on the head. The cat looked very scandalized and puffed out his chest, not amused about the unexpected act of affection.

Tony chuckled and sat down at the table as well. It had been worth fishing a cat hair out of his mouth just for that reaction. „You‘re the strangest cat I‘ve ever met,“ Tony grinned when the cat gave him the stinky eye.

The irony was lost on him.

_____________________________________

Tony had had a long day when he landed on the platform of the tower and the nanobots retreated to the house unit on his chest. Well, it was only afternoon in New York – but not on the other side of the world in Norway where he had helped Thor and Loki with something. New Asgard was developing well. People started healing.

Tony had set up a fund and that involved a lot of paperwork and details he had to supervise. Next time he would take the jet. It might be slower, but he could get a nap on an actual bed on his way back.

"Hey Blue Eye." The cat tiptoed around his feet to greet him (and possibly trip him) but Tony was too tired to do anything more than a quick pet along his back. He only wanted to lie down in his bed, pull the covers over his head and sleep for the next three days.

Unfortunately, it was still too early to go to bed and, besides, he still had some contracts to read and approve.

Tony needed coffee.

The cat stayed at his side and seemed almost understandingly about the absent attention. Or at least he didn’t complain about it. In return the cat got his smaller bowl of coffee – together with a kiss on his head.

At first it had been funny to watch the feline's unwilling reaction to it. Now it was routine. Tony swore if cats could roll their eyes, this one would do it every day.

With coffee in one hand and a Starkpad in the other, Tony made himself comfortable on the couch. He put his house unit down on the small table on the side. He always kept it within reach; it was his safety anchor, if only to ease his mind.

It probably said a lot about him that he never let it out of his sight for more than a few minutes, but he had made his peace with it. Besides, it was better safe than sorry.

It didn't take long until the cushion dipped and the cat joined him. Blue eyes fixed on him and the Starkpad. Carefully, the animal placed a paw on Tony's torso and when nothing more than a hum came in response, the cat climbed onto Tony's chest where he lay down, his paws tucked under his fluffy body.

"No," Tony protested, "No, that's no place for you." After all, his chest was still his sore point, even after the surgery that had removed the arc reactor. Or maybe because of that.

But the cat merely started purring loudly and closed his eyes.

Tony blinked at him, baffled. Surprisingly, the cat did not feel heavy at all. On the contrary, the slight vibration of his purring felt pleasant. Like a small, warm engine.

"Fine, you can stay – for now." Tony turned his focus back to the Starkpad. Reading, he absently buried his fingers in the soft fur.

This was kinda relaxing.

Later that evening Peter came to visit later to ask about New Asgard and its princes – he had wanted to travel overseas, but wasn't allowed – he found Tony asleep on the couch. His hand was on the cat, which was still on his chest. The feline lifted his head when he heard the boy and narrowed his eyes as if to tell the boy not to be too loud.

Peter put his finger to his lips as a sign that he would be quiet. Tiptoeing, he fetched a blanket for his mentor.

(He also snatched a photo. It was too cute not to.)

_____________________________________

The other day Peter helped Tony to tweak some issues with his new arm. It was nothing serious, just a few detail problems that had only become apparent in the long-term use of the prosthesis.

Since Peter was not a medical expert and only lent an extra pair of hands – everything took so much longer with only one functioning arm – Bruce and Doctor Cho joined in a video conference. Between the number of PhDs and genius brain cells they all mustered, the work was a piece of cake.

"I'm taking the boxes out for recycling," Peter announced after they fixed it.

A lot of materials were made in the lab itself, other things Tony had delivered. But he rarely took care of the packaging, always throwing the boxes in a corner, preoccupied by the projects he needed the materials for in the first place. He grew up rich and never had to clean up after himself, but always had staff or robots for that.

Sure, he kept his workspace neat – or at least the neat ambivalent to the creative chaos, he liked to call it. But the state of everything around it was less important. So there was often a growing stack of empty boxes in at least one corner of the lab.

Peter, raised by his aunt to clean a mess before he left, stacked the boxes inside each other. As he reached for one further in the back, he heard a disgruntled meow. Apparently he had just disturbed someone's nap.

"Sorry," Peter chuckled and set the box aside to take another instead. "Mister Stark bought you that fancy cat tree and you still prefer sleeping in that box? Honestly? Mood."

In response, he heard the noise of paws on cardboard as the cat turned around and lay back down with his back to Peter. The message was clear: he didn't want to be disturbed.

Tony, meanwhile, glanced at Friday's search results for Strange, which were pretty depressing: there were none. It was already the third try – Tony had run the search again and again, always adjusting the parameters – and there wasn’t any trace of the sorcerer.

He had even hacked the cameras in the street of the Sanctum (it wasn't quite legal, not even close, but nobody was able to track his traces anyway, so yeah... ), and had Friday analyze the whole video data of the last few months. There was nothing to indicate the sudden reason for his disappearance.

Absolutely nothing.

If the sorcerer was still on Earth, Tony didn’t know where he could possibly be hiding.

_____________________________________

Tony was having a nightmare. He floated in space – the world had crumbled, all worlds had. Snippets of his loved ones popped up like visions from the past. Peter, Rhodey, Pepper, Happy; all of them in a moment of death. Their screams of agony echoed in Tony‘s head.

He tried to reach out to them but he couldn't move in the vacuum of space. His friends were too far away and he was too small in the magnitude of cosmos.

He needed his suit! He was in space and he needed his suit.

Tony tapped his chest, but there was no house unit, no arc reactor. Just an empty, black void where his lungs should be.

Did he even breathe? How could he breathe in space?

As if the thought had become reality, he suddenly got no more air. He tried to kick and scream without moving and making a sound. The feeling of suffocation brought tears to his eyes. He tried to grab something, anything, but there was nothing.

He was alone.

Suddenly he felt pressure on his chest. Not uncomfortable, more like an anchor that reassured him – like his house unit usually did. With his chest no longer an empty void, he was able to take a deep breath and slowly became aware of his surroundings as he awoke.

He heard the hum of an engine in the background, and still felt the weight on his chest.

"Friday?" he whispered into the darkness, his eyes still closed.

"It's 5:37 in the morning, Boss. Today is Monday the fifth. You're free until ten, when a call with the UN is scheduled," the familiar voice of his AI listed the facts. It helped Tony to shake off his dream, to focus on the present.

„Thanks, babe.“

He reached for his chest and his finger touched fur. Surprised, he opened his eyes and realized that the hum of the engine was actually the purr of the cat.

"Hey, Blue Eye." He smiled softly, his throat still feeling sore. "What are you doing here?"

It was the first time he was seeing the feline in his bedroom. Before today he had always slept in the living room and never even pried into Tony's personal room, as if he wanted to give him space.

Ridiculous! First off, cats had no sense of personal space. Exhibit A was on his chest.

Secondly, his bedroom had probably seen more people than his personal lab. At least in the past – not so much recently.

"He sensed your distress," Friday told him. She knew that speaking to him after a nightmare helped him. „And he refused to leave.“

„Thanks, I guess.“ Tony petted the head of the feline. „Are you gonna let me get up to make coffee for us?“ The cat didn‘t move an inch, just looked at him in concern with his bright eyes. „Fine, five more minutes.“

Tony – perfectly able to move the cat if he wanted to – remained lying and scratched the feline behind his black ears, under his jaw and along his back. The purr got louder and contentedly the cat closed his eyes, relaxed into Tony’s torso.

Half an hour later the cat finally stood up, stretched and jumped on the floor. He was meowing, announcing that it was now indeed time for breakfast.

That wasn‘t a bad idea, Tony could go for a bagel. And coffee. Always coffee.

The feline got his coffee served as usual with a kiss on his fluffy head.

_____________________________________

That day he felt better than he normally would after a horrible nightmare. Having a pet wasn't as bad as he had first thought when Peter dragged the cat in.

When Tony was a kid he had begged his father for a dog – probably like every kid did at one point. His father had refused, had said that animals were too much of a responsibility, that they were dirty and that Tony didn't have time for it. Then Tony was sent to a boarding school, and he never asked again.

Later, when his parents died and Tony took over SI, he really did not had time for a pet. Besides, he had been more interested in women and men anyway

For the next few decades, he hadn't given a second thought to getting a pet. Why should he? He had his robots to look after and Jarvis who kept him company.

But it still felt different when Tony went to bed that night and the cat jumped on his mattress. He didn't even acknowledge Tony when he flopped down next to his shoulder, as if he had always belonged there.

Tony didn't complain about the pet in his bed – something he definitely wouldn't have allowed in the past. Somehow he knew it was the cat's way to look out for him.

Ridiculous! - it was just a cat.

But Tony had seen weirder stuff. He stroked once along the back through the soft fur and slipped under the covers. „Good night, Blue Eye.“ If this was how retirement would be, he could get used to it.

Then the cat moved his tail into Tony‘s face.

_____________________________________

„So, we still have no idea where he is,“ Tony concluded his conversation with Wong. It was something that worried him a lot. Strange had been gone for several weeks, as if he had simply vanished into thin air. (He didn't, at least not magically. Wong said they would have traced that).

The other sorcerer sat in his kitchen with a cup of tea in his hand. He looked seriously concerned and that had a lot to say.

They had spoken a few times, updated each other on the case – although there was depressingly little to update.

Today Wong had walked through a portal into Tony’s kitchen. In that respect, he was worse than Strange, who at least texted him like five seconds before he showed up. It was the thought that counted.

"I should have looked out for him more. He hasn‘t been the same after the snap,“ Wong said in something that sounded like regret.

„It was hard for everyone to settle back in,“ Tony acknowledged. „The world moved on while half of the population was absent.“

The sorcerer shook his head. That wasn‘t what he meant. Sure, Stephen lost his position as Sorcerer Supreme to him and in the meantime the Sanctum had also chosen a new Master, but that was not the reason why Stephen had become distant after everyone reappeared. It wasn‘t the reason why he had been almost unstable.

Stephen had tried to hide it – of course he did. That was just how Stephen acted. Especially since he knew first hand about all the responsibilities Wong had to juggle as Sorcerer Supreme.

Wong had seen snippets of it anyway. But it had to be worse than he had assumed. He didn't know what had happened to his friend, but it couldn't be good.

„He told you about the various possible outcomes of the battle with Thanos, right?“ he asked and Tony nodded. „He didn‘t just watch over 14 million futures, he lived every single one of them. That takes a toll on any man‘s mind. It must have been worse than fighting Dormammu.“

„That was the demon he pulled into a time loop and annoyed him until he left earth?“

Wong's eyes darted up in surprise that Tony knew about that. Stephen didn‘t talk about it a lot. „That‘s one way to describe it,“ he snorted.

„So, you think he went insane in between those futures and forgot which reality is the real one?“ Tony's conclusion was, as always, precise and hit the mark. He even took it further. "And when you think about how many futures he's had to watch fail…" How many deaths of family, friends and close ones he had had to watch, over and over again.

Tony had seen such a future once and it had been borderline torture. It still haunted him sometimes, seamlessly joining the long queue of his nightmares.

„He seemed okay last time I saw him,“ Tony muttered lamely. He knew that it didn't mean anything. He had kept it secret from his friends for a long time, that he was outright dying. Back when he had the palladium in his blood.

And he remembered that he had often caught Strange staring into space, like he had simply zoned out. But sometimes he confused basic facts on who was still alive.

Tony hadn't read too much into it. Although he liked the man and enjoyed having him around (Tony was too old to call it a crush), he didn't know the doctor well enough to judge him.

"We are still waiting for some replies from other dimensions. So, there's still a chance." Wong put down his cup and rose. A clear sign that the meeting was over. He raised his hand with his portal ring. "I'll inform you if we-..." He froze as a black cat pawed around the corner of the doorway into the kitchen, stopping equally surprised.

Tony had never seen so much emotion on Wong's face. The sorcerer literally gasped before he found his voice again.

„Strange?!“

[unhappycylinder]

Hellfire’s Newest Member (Eddie x fem!Reader) Pt. 15

--

“I don’t see why you don’t just come work at Family Video with me and Steve” Robin cried out, slamming herself against the locker next to yours as you grabbed your books.

“Because, Robin, I dont think I have the time for a full time job on top of school and hellfire and Eddie and adjusting,” you sighed, “I don’t know its just a lot”

“Yeah butttt moneyyyy” she taunted.

“Don’t remind me,” you said slamming your locker. Your dad had been working more and more at the testing facility, meaning you saw him less and less. Its not that he forgot you were there…but he definitely had forgotten to leave you money on more than one occasion. And, since you never saw him, its not like you could really explain to him that $40 every two weeks was not enough to get you groceries or enough food to sustain yourself. 

“Look, y/n, I know that its tough with your dad and everything, but come on the perks are endless. I mean we get to hang out after school, and you get paid! Plus there’s like no actual work involved!” Robin was practically yelling as you walked down the hall to your history class.

“So if I say yes does that mean I’m hired?”

“I mean technically Steve is the one who has to actually hire you, but he’s got the hots for you so there’s no doubt in my mind that he will-”

“Wait Robin,” you paused in the hall, your brain spinning at what she just said, “Steve has what for me?”

“Uhhhh nothing! Nothing at all!” She fumbled over her words, “I don’t think I even mentioned Steve, actually, I don’t know how he’s involved in this conversation at all.”

“You said Steve has a crush on me?” You laughed out, a slight blush rising to your cheeks.

“Okay Y/n look, I totally fucked up right there. Steve told me he thought you were pretty after you came to work with us after school a couple weeks ago, and ever since then he hasn’t stopped talking about you,” Robin talked so fast you could hardly keep up, “so I asked him the other day if he had a thing for you and well, he didn’t exactly say no”

“Ugh Robin!” You groaned, throwing your head back, “now its gonna be so awkward whenever I’m at work with you guys!”

“So you’ll take the job?” She exclaimed.

“Because I know you won’t stop spiraling until I say so, yes I’ll take the job, but I’m gonna need these Steve details so I know what I’m getting myself into”

“Yes! Oh my gosh yes! We’re totally gonna be coworkers!” Robin jumped up and down, grasping your arm tightly.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

—

“Come on, come on, hurry up losers,” Steve said impatiently as he beckoned you and Robin into his car after school.

“Hey Stevie,” Robin smiled sweetly at him from the passenger seat.

“Robin,” he looked at her quizzically, “someone’s in a good mood today. The hell did you say to her y/l/n?” he asked, turning around to face you.

“I may or may not have accepted a certain job offer…” you bit your lip as your eyes found Steve’s.

His mouth hung open in shock as his eyes slid from yours to Robin’s, who was eagerly bouncing up and down in the passenger seat.

“You- wait what?” Steve squealed, turning to face you in the backseat, a blush flushing across his cheeks.

“Robin said you guys had a job offering and that I should take it sooooo” 

“Well yeah we did,” he turned to Robin, his hair bouncing over his forehead as he nodded, “but I didn’t think you’d be the one to take it”

“Oh I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you, Stevie,” you drawled out the last word.

— Steve’s POV —

Stevie…that damn nickname. It was bad enough that Y/n was now gonna be working with you, but now she had adopted Robin’s taunting nickname?? And you hated to admit how sweet it sounded coming from her lips.

Your eyes lingered on hers for a moment too long after she said that before panic set in and you quickly snapped around to the front of the car, hands finding the steering wheel. You could feel Robin’s knowing stare burning holes into the side of your head, and oh lord were you dreading this workday.

Putting the car in drive, you began the silent voyage to family video, fingers nervously tapping the wheel as you coasted down the highway. 

“So uhhh,” you broke the silence, finding y/n’s eyes in the rearview mirror, “Munson let you off the hook today?”

Y/n sighed, shaking her head as she smiled out her window, “Eddie isn’t my babysitter, Steve. Besides, he was pretty excited when I told him I got this job.”

“Oh yeah?” Surprise filled your voice, “I’m surprised the freak wasn’t bugging out at the idea of not getting to spend every waking second of everyday with you,” you scoffed.

“Stevie if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous,” y/n teased, her eyes returning to the mirror just in time to catch the blush that spread rapidly across your cheeks.

Robin whipped around at that statement, muttering y/n’s name under her breath.

“What?” she responded, eyes going wide at Robin as she turned around and slicked back her hair with her hands.

So, signs point to y/n knowing about your crush on her. Shit. You never should have trusted Robin…told her you thought y/n was cute even though you knew full-well she was head over heels for Eddie Munson.

That freak? You thought to yourself as the car fell back into silence, wondering about how Y/n could have been yours if you had just managed to get in before Eddie had. You could make her happier than he ever could.

— Y/n's POV —

Steve pulled into the family video lot, your eyes not leaving his face the entire drive, hoping to yourself that he hadn't caught you. He was a good looking guy, Steve, and you couldn't help but feel flattered after hearing Robin tell you how he was the king of Hawkin’s High for his 4 years, and how every girl wanted nothing more than to hang on the arm of Steve Harrington.

But no. You were with Eddie. You loved Eddie more than anything. He had shown you nothing but kindness since you got here and had welcomed you fully into his space with no hesitation…but then so had Steve. He was totally your type; tall, great hair, freckles, real cute, goofy. He was no Eddie, he lacked that edge, that spark that Eddie had that made you feel so giddy inside. 

“So y/n since it's your first day,” Steve snapped you out of your trance as you all walked up to the front door, “I think we're just gonna have you chill behind the counter with us and kinda observe everything we do”

“Sounds good to me,” you shrugged, entering the building as Steve held the door for you.

You introduced yourself to the daytime employees as Robin and Steve took over for them at the desk, taking a seat on the counter next to the register.

“Oh my god y/n this is so totally amazing,” Robin buzzed, running up to you from the back with your very own green vest, “I’ll make you a nametag and you can pick whatever pins you want and slap them on there!” She held the vest up to make sure the sizing was right before handing it over to you and getting to work on your nametag.

“Damn I guess this is really official then huh?” You slid the vest over your t-shirt, smiling at the family video logo now resting on top of your left breast.

“What do y'a think?” You asked as you shifted side to side, flaunting the vest, “do I pull it off alright?”

“You look bbbbonkers gorgeous y/n,” Robin said, slapping her palms against the sides of her cheeks, making you both giggle.

“Yeah no, you uh,” Steve stood in front of you with his hands on his hips as he stared at your vest…at the logo of your vest, “you look great. It looks great. The vest I mean. It looks good on you. You look-”

“I'm gonna stop you there Stevie boy,” Robin came to his rescue, “welcome to the family video family best friend,” she said, gently slapping Steve’s chest.

–

The workday went by quick, with the Dr. Zhivago double vhs playing softly in the background, you and Robin occasionally remarking about how romantic it was, Steve growing more annoyed with each enamored sigh.

Six hours later and your shift was done. Robin grabbed your vests from you and Steve and took them to the back room to hang them up, your nametag now sitting just above the family video logo.

“So y/n, Munson picking you up?” Steve asked while leaning against the counter.

“No uh, I didn't really know what time I’d be done so I told him I’d find a way home tonight”

“Mind if I give you a ride?”

“Yeah actually that'd be great. Last time I turned you down I ended up walking several miles in the dark…which was freaky to say the least”

“Yeah I-” Steve paused, “I was worried about you.”

“Stevie you don't need to be worried about me, I was fine”

“Well regardless, I’m driving you this time, and really any time you need a ride…can't have you walking the streets of Hawkins alone…this place is weirder than it seems”

“Ominous, but okay,” you laughed as Robin came back to the front

“You buffoons ready to go?” 

“Let's do it.” Robin slung her arm around you as you all retreated to Steve’s car, him locking the store behind you.

–

“Alright miss Buckley, your stop.” Steve drummed on the steering wheel as he waited for Robin to hop out. 

“Thanks, as always, for the ride Stevie. You two kids get home safe,” she winked at Steve as she grabbed her backpack and closed the door behind her.

“Bye y/n, see you tomorrow for our favorite class in the world!” Robin yelled as she walked towards her house.

“Cant wait,” you yelled back at her, chuckling to yourself.

“So are you gonna stay back there like I'm some chauffeur or are you gonna hop up here?” Steve asked, turning around to face you, his hand gripping the headrest of the passenger seat, drawing your eyes to it.

“I don't know Harrington you make a pretty good chauffeur”

“Come here,” Steve said lowly, gesturing towards the front seat with a nod.

You blushed, grabbing your backpack as you exited the backseat and slid into Robin’s, setting your back beneath your feet.

“Better?” You taunted, Steve’s hand still resting on your headrest.

“Much.” He brought his hand down to put the car in drive, returning it to the wheel after. You couldn't help but feel an emptiness at his hand not being there. 

“Where am I taking you?” He asked quizzically, “I just kinda started driving,” he laughed.

“You mind taking me to Eddie’s? It's pretty close, you're going the right way already actually,” you laughed with him.

“Yeah sure,” you couldn't help but notice the defeat in his tone.

“So I hear you used to be the king of Hawkin’s High…” you tried to begin conversation.

“Oh,” he blushed, “that’s what Robin’s been telling you huh?”

“Oh yeah. She told me all about how popular and untouchable you were. How all the girls wanted to date Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington,” you said with air quotes and all.

Steve laughed, “is that so?”

“What?”

“All the girls at Hawkins High want to date me…” he hummed, an amused grin across his face, “I suppose that’d include you wouldn't it?”

“I said wantED Steve, don't get ahead of yourself buckaroo,” you said through a smile and a blush, one which Steve definitely noticed.

“I don't know y/n, the color of your cheeks right now is telling me something different,” he tapped nervously on his wheel, trying to hide his anxiety through his flirtatious voice.

“Steve, you're literally driving me to my boyfriend's house as we speak…” you suggested.

Steve just looked at you, eyebrows raised, begging you to continue.

You laughed, “oh my god don't look at me like that!”

“Like what?” He laughed back.

“Like you want me to say something else! There's nothing else to say!” You held your hands up in defense.

“Alright whatever you say.” Steve chuckled as his eyes returned to the road, Eddie’s trailer only a block away, “but that doesn't mean I have to believe you L/n”

The sound of gravel crunching signaled that you were pulling into Eddie’s driveway. You began to pack up your things as Steve parked the car, turning to face you as his arm reclined on the wheel.

“Believe what you want Harrington, I know where I stand” you said with a smile and a friendly wink as you opened the car door and stepped out.

“Oh I will y/n, believe me I will,” he said, making you laugh and shake your head.

He definitely was smooth, and confident, you had to give him that.

“You are a pain in my side Steve Harrington, you know that?” 

“Just happy to be there Y/n L/n” and with that he gave you a small salute and drove away, leaving you blushing, alone, on your boyfriend’s porch.

You turned to face the door, hand coming up to gently knock on his door, careful not to wake his uncle in case he was home. Before you could make contact though, the door swung open to reveal a very ticked off Eddie Munson.

-- 

Taglist: @definitelynotecho @sadbitchfangirl @lfaewrites @tlclick73 

[madaboutmunson]

i’m a sucker for dad eddie munson if we can have some 🥺

Hi there!!

First of all, thank you so much for being my first ask, and picking an Eddie I've never written before 🤩 I hope you enjoy it 💚💚

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"You didn't get a replacement? Well, yes, I know that, sweetheart…You know I would never want to miss out, but now I've kinda got my hands full with Ozzy here," Eddie says as gently as he can into the phone, precariously balanced between his cheek and shoulder.

Whilst simultaneously shushing and making big goofy faces at the toddler in his arms, that's slowly emerging from its most recent meltdown because he wasn't allowed to eat a CD.

"I know, honey, I know you're the one working all day today." Eddie sighs in defeat but can't help but smile as he looks into the big brown eyes of the babbling babe, "You know what, sugar, me and Ozzy here, we're gonna make it work. So don't worry about it, ok? Ok, babe…yep, I love you too…see you later."

He switches the baby to one arm, puts the phone down in the cradle, checks his watch, and turns to Ozzy.

"Ok, buddy, we've got like forty minutes to look handsome as all hell, get you fed and all sleepy, pick up Joanie's favourite hair tie that she needs; otherwise, the world will collapse, and she won't play at her recital, and then get over to the school for said performance."

He puts Ozzy in his walker and, with a vast false smile, says, "And all of this would have been so much simpler if the babysitter hadn't decided to sneak her boyfriend over last time and got herself fired."

Eddie runs, grabs his electric razor, and starts shaving in the mirror.

Ozzy babbles. Eddie replies, "I know…I know I completely lost my shit with her, but I was paying her to watch you and Joanie, and she wasn't"

Ozzy blows a few raspberries and giggles.

Eddie pokes his head around at Ozzy, "I will not apologise. No way, man."

Another raspberry from Ozzy.

"I said no way!!" Eddie giggles in the mirror as he splashes on some cologne and gets half dressed in his suit. Leaving his shirt, tie and blazer on the hanger.

He rushes back into Ozzy and picks him up from his walker, "Ok, now for you, little guy". Eddie sets about making sure Ozzy has a fresh diaper, a comfy onesie that looks like a tuxedo, and brushes his ever-so-soft hair out of his face with the tiny baby brush. Save for the solitary ringlet at the front of his head, Eddie twirls it gently around his finger and lets it spring back into place.

Eddie marvels at his son, "Lady-killer" he winks at Ozzy, who blows another raspberry with bubbles in response, "Ok, Ok, or you know any gender you like, geez. Tough crowd here tonight."

Eddie grabs the bottle from the warmer, which slips from his hand, but he expertly catches it on his shiny patent shoe and flicks it back up in the air for an effortless catch.

"Your old man's still got it!" He winks and sticks out his tongue at his son, earning him a fit of giggles.

He cradles his son to his chest and feeds him his bottle whilst walking around looking for the other items he needs. The change bag, the infamous hair tie, a set of ear defenders, and a random scoop of snacks from the cupboard.

Ozzy is placed back in his walker whilst Eddie packs the car, not forgetting the stroller this time, as Ozzy was much heavier than last year, and he was sure his arms couldn't take it.

Once triple-checking everything, Eddie finally gets fully dressed and transfers Ozzy from the walker to the car seat.

Once both are safely buckled in, Eddie pauses for a moment and looks in the rearview mirror at Ozzy, "Hey, man! It's just you and me. We can listen to whatever we want!!"

Eddie rustles under the passenger chair, retrieves a box, opens the window and blows the dust off the tape container.

"Slayer? Megadeath? Black Sabbath?" Eddie asks as he offers the tape collection to Ozzy, whose tiny chubby finger lands on Iron Maiden.

Eddie looks impressed at his son, "Ok…ok, I could go for that" as soon as the music starts up, He starts up the car and takes a quick look back at his son, whose bottom lip is stuck out, shaking. His soft brow smushed as he put his hands to his ears.

Eddie melts and rolls his eyes, "Alright, champ, no need to get upset" Eddie ejects the tape and puts in the nursery rhyme tape, his son's face lights up, and he can't repress the huge dimpled grin on his own face.

As a compromise, the nursery rhymes stay on, but Eddie ad libs some sung guitar solos and high-pitched metal singing occasionally over the top of it.

He pulls the station wagon into the parking lot and sets about reconstructing the stroller. He places an almost sleeping Ozzy into it silently and gently before cautiously adorning him with a set of little ear defenders and speed walks his way to the auditorium.

A blur of neon races towards his leg at an almighty speed, causing him to exhale an 'Oof' at the impact.

"Daddy!!! Did you bring it? Did you? Huh? Have you got it?"

"Of course I did, Angel" he pulls out the hair tie with the two googly-eyed cats on. "Want me to do it for you?"

Joanie nods enthusiastically, and Eddie replaces the frog hair tie for the cats ensuring her ponytail is perfectly central with no bumps, just the way she liked it.

"You can have the frog hair tie for your hair" she looks up at him blinking and offering it up to him.

Eddie touches his long hair and rolls his eyes, "Sorry honey, Daddy forgot to tie his hair up for this fancy recital" He kneels down, and Joanie ties his voluminous curly dark hair into a low ponytail.

"Thank you, m'lady" Eddie gives her a toothy grin and bows to his daughter, whose laughter fills his heart so much he's confident it might explode one of these days.

He gives her an all-encompassing hug and three squeezes for luck, just as she liked. Then, as they move out of the hug, he holds her by her shoulders and looks in her eyes. "Now you get out there, kid, and tear the roof off this stuffy old place. We're gonna be right here, Ozzy and me, cheering you on, ok? You've got this!"

Joanie mirrors Eddie's dimpled smile, "Ok. I will. I promise!" She smiles as she runs off towards the stage.

An hour or so later, Ozzy is still sound asleep in the ever-rocking stroller, by way of Eddie's foot, keeping in time to whatever is playing. He almost falls asleep a few times himself, but then he hears Joanie's name over the microphone and snaps out of an almost slumber to his feet, applauding and whooping loudly.

Someone behind him tuts and mumbles something. He whips around and intensely stares at them, pointing firmly at the stage, "That right there is my little girl, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna be seated just because there was no fucking standing room."

He narrows his eyes at them, pinching his fingers together on one ringed hand whilst the other remains on his belted hip.

"I have had quite the day of it, and I would sincerely appreciate it if you kept your thoughts and opinions to your stuck-up selves, and let me show my kid, how much I love being here to watch her play. Al-fucking-right?!" He leans forward into them as they recoil in their seats.

Eddie smiles and claps his hands, "Then we have an accord. Great!"

He turns around to watch Joanie play Ode to Joy on her violin. A huge grin encompasses the lower half of his face, and his eyes fill with proud tears. That's my little angel, killing it on stage.

Whenever she looks up from her music, he's sure to be ready with a wave or throws the horns up at her, and she returns a shy smile before returning to the piece.

When she takes her final bow, Eddie whoops, cheers and roars like he was a one-man crowd. This whole time his other leg hasn't once stopped gently rocking the stroller containing a softly slumbering Ozzy in his ear defenders.

He sits back down in his seat and waits for the end of the show before rushing to collect the apple of his eye.

He puts her violin in the bottom of the stroller and hoists her up onto his shoulders, and she holds on tight whilst Eddie pushes the stroller out of the auditorium.

Once all buckled in the car, he turns to Joanie and, in hushed tones, says, "I'm sorry I have to whisper this, honey, but it's just because your brother is sleeping. You annihilated that piece tonight, my angel. Absolutely rocked that place!!" He takes her little hand and plants a kiss on the back of it.

[wytfut]

just once...

Raining out today, and I’m waiting for parts. And I’m in the mood to write... so be it.

With a last name like mine, I promise you, I have experienced just a touch of bigotry many times in my life time. No I’m not native, and no nothing I have experienced is like living with racism EVERY SINGLE DAY.

But I have had a taste of it. The first few times, confused me, as I was younger and didn’t know about such things. Every time it was in reference to my last name....    with a promised “well you don’t look .....” to follow.

Truly from what I’ve witnessed there are different levels of bigotry. Pure hatred to simple distrust and ignorance. 

Early grade school (Pershing), some folks moved in next to us, that had adopted Japanese kids. Being a kid, that meant nothing to me, they were just my friends. 

Later in Jr. Hi, my best buddy was Hispanic/Native. I still saw nothing different, until an event.

Marcial and I had witness a car accident, that was drawing a crowd. So being curious, we wondered up to the site. There on the curb was another kid our age full of hormones trying to prove his manhood   “we don’t need any of your kind here....” 

His comment spooked me, but I didn’t know why. Marcial got stone cold quiet, and we just walked away. Here I had just witnessed my first bigoted remark, and didn’t know it. And my friend knew exactly what had happened. We didn’t speak of it, probably because I didn’t know. 

In hi school trying to prove to my peers I was as tough as they, I made a horrible off handed racist comment to no one in particular in the locker room. I didn’t even know what it meant, .... and a black friend walked around the corner, and heard the whole thing. We were never the same after that, and it is still to this day one of my most embarrassed moments of my life.... even though I was only 15. I remember it vividly. 

I know the verbiage.. “words don’t hurt no one” ... and I couldn’t disagree more. Words are words, but its human nature to for us to push the envelope, every step of the way. When words become common, they lack less and less the definition by commonality. Even though in reality, its definition is still there, even with all the smoke and mirrors. With the envelope pushing, it just never looses its impact.

“Fuck” back when I first heard this word, was brutal, and ruthless. Never ever said in polite company. Now its common. Pretty much everyone uses it..... its become part of English language world wide.  Has the word lost any of its definition/punch of use? No...  perfect example in my itty bitty head. I’m not slamming the word fuck by any means.... my foul mouth it flows frequently. But here its an example of “words”.

I attended UNL for 1 semester fall of 1971....   Being a very thin, docile, and small statured, I  was hit upon a few times by early confused Homosexuals. This was all new to me, and had no idea what was going on until much later. No, there were no contact sports. Nothing but inferred comments, all which went over my head, as I didn’t know what “gay” was. If someone were to have told me, I’d probably had nightmares...

Once I realized this portion of experience was about, it drove me to prove to the world I’m far from gay. Heavy mustache, big dogs, wrench on cars, guns, motorcycles.... all  the macho stuff.... talk about stereotyping. Still enjoy all of that stuff.

Point being, I was bigoted possibly as gay, and as Native up to this point in my life. All before the main portion of my adult life. 

To be honest.... in this portion of my life, I’ll be the first to admit, I was a sexist of sorts. Practiced with no conscience. I do not condone such behavior to this day, but it still a struggle at times for myself. And unfortunately from my Mom... I resist commenting about people who are over weight (yeah I’m fat too). 

At Lincoln Hoot and Hollar, is where I experienced real world bigotry, with a full on understanding.

It was horrible at times, but a huge learning curve on growing up, and excepting “people for what they are”. 

My family for the times definitely was my learning curve. As they say, kids don’t know bigotry naturally, they are taught it. I think this is very true, but with a noted exception (some people are just evil naturally).

What was acceptable back then will not work today. My Pop had a hard time in his later years....    almost comical and I couldn’t believe what he’d say, without any qualms or quilt. Back in his day he was considered a big supporter of equal rights. Todays standard he couldn’t meet the mark.

WWW... came into my life, including X world. I went social way before facebook or any of the others popular sites now. 

I picked up on new friends comments (who had never met me face to face, or even a phone call)... that they thought I was really Native.  Hints of “that Indian guy in Nebraska...”

Historically, us stupid White Americans have shown no mercy to “others”. When the Olympics were in Australia.... accolades were showered to the Australians for their recognizing Aboriginals, and giving them rights after “hundreds of years” belittlement. Americans proudly awarding Australians for their work with the races?????? 

WHAT? REALLY? ...   SMFH!!!

A large portion of the world treats “others” just horribly. The examples are endless. Holocaust was a nightmare of the worst kind. But it still continues to this day, in modern times, with no reporting in main stream news (that's old news, it doesn’t sell papers). As if nothing ever happens. Genocide is real, and living in the back yard.

America’s pride of history with races is nothing but a sham. Our true history is never taught. And now Critical Race theory is up for conversation? What? Why, is it even questioned. Is anyone interested is fixing real problem? 

My own kids didn't even know American past race history.... until I told them of the examples. Rosewood, Greenwood, Indian White schools, Japanese internment camps, Sikhs, Palestinians, Muslims, Islam's, White Clay, Pine Ridge.    etc etc etc.... 

An astonishing story happened to me a few years back.

In casual conversation one day my nephew Devin mentioned, he had an employee at LPS that worked for him.

This employee found out Devin was related to some Whitefoots. This guy went on to tell Devin a wild story from over 50 years ago dealing with a Whitefoot. In translation I was rubbing my head, as I couldn’t comprehend this crazy story. And honestly, typically I thought initially it had to do with my Pop and the Patrol. Not me.

My scout troop.. (1965ish?) took a trip to the Ozarks. We invited another troop to join us. This other troop had a large black membership ... not an issue, but pertinent to the story. 

On the bus on the way down to the Ozarks I apparently befriended one of the scouts from the other troop and didn’t even realize it. Hell I don’t remember this actually. 50 years is a long time ago, and I was maybe 13? I remember the trip, but an isolated incident of this sort is mind blowing.

Back in 2018, my Hunny and I were invited to a wedding. The bride just so turned out to be this very same guys daughter. 

But there he was, and he remembered it all. And made a point to tell me the complete story. And me the first 30 seconds or so questioning my mental state, confused, with “who is this guy”...    but he knew Devin.  Then is all came together remembering the story Devin had told me..

He was on this bus with his troop and a bunch of silly white kids. I’d guess feeling a bit out of place. And I was the only one that would talk to him. And me being a nerd proceeded to try and teach him a couple of “knots”.... He never forgot this very tiny piece of time in his life time.

Please understand, I was walking into another realm, blindly. The wedding was a celebration of life, but this was astounding and overwhelming at the same time. 

Paul Lecher is his name. Went to Northeast a few years after me. Went onto UNL, and was a “walk on” for the Cornhusker’s football team.

And here at a his daughters wedding, was proudly telling me this story from another century. 

This story really doesn’t have anything to do with the theme of this blog, other than the fact that I mention he is black (this could be misconstrued). But I do feel it relates to the theme on an entertainment level, from the opionion of an old guy. 

JUST WOW....

I truly haven’t kept in touch with Paul since our reacquaintance other than a text or 2. . No excuse other than Life in general. And this story is one of my favorite hi lights of my life. 

Some where in the back of my cavernous empty skull, I remember something about a phone call I got a couple of years after the Ozarks trip. I hung up on the caller, as I didn’t recognize the name as introduced. Was this Paul trying to reconnect?  Caller ID wasn’t a thing then, so no way to figure out who had called.  I just knew caller was young like me.  I feel bad about this memory, but then why should I.... so young and blind to reality.  

Another one of those things an Adult just bears with another ding in his life.

As an elder adult, it still amazes me bigotry, among the wealthy, educated, upper shelf life style folks in our world today. A friend of mine for years of pretty fair stature here in Waverlyville, was making blanket comments during Desert Storm.   I really don’t have qualms with bigots, but this one changed my opinion of him for many years later.

We as stupid white Americans have treated everyone ..........      in the worlds swimming pool, its just embarrassing. 

Yeah I know, its obvious, I’m not really too proud of America’s race history..  But seemingly its getting worse, at best the same of 100 years ago. 

As an elder adult now. I suppose I just have to except human nature. I’ll still make my futile stands time to time in conversation. My hopes that future brings us together will not happen in my life time. But maybe in my grandkids??

[zora-thesidecharacter]

First page of my Pokemon Scarlet and Violet Nuzzlocke story.

Luna awoke with a start. Her mothers skwevot, a squirrel like Pokemon, was jumping up and down on her in order to get her awake. She lightly shoved the little squirrel off her and checked the time. 7:30 in the morning. She swore at herself before jumping out of bed and getting dressed as soon as possible.

Today was supposed to be her first day attending Naranja Academy, a large school located in Mesagoza where students from all over the Paldea region go to learn various different things, all the way from health care to cooking, to being a Pokemon trainer. And Luna was now ten minutes late from her agreed upon time to get going with her family.

Luna ran down the stairs as quick as she could, skwevot not far behind. She turned the corner to find exactly what she expected, three very impatient looking people. Luna's mother was the first to address her. “Well well well, look who finally woke up.”

“Sorry, I just-” Luna was cut off

“I don't need to hear it. Are you ready?” Luna nodded her head.

“I wouldn't be so sure! Your definitely forgetting something.” this time it was her twin brother, Solar, who talked. He was pointing at his orange tie, part of the Naranja school uniform. Luna looked down to notice she forgot her own.

“shit,” She was about to run back upstairs when her older brother, Zora, stopped her.

“I'll get it and catch up with you guys. Its your first day, and you going to really late if you don't go now, I'll catch up in a bit.” he then ran upstairs before Luna had a chance to thank him. He was three years older then the twins, so it wasn't as big of a deal if he missed this particular event.

“Lets get going then!” Solar shouts, already halfway out the door. Luna and their mother promptly followed him. They were headed to the Beach just down the road. There, they would find Director Clavel. He was the director of Naranja academy, and therefore the one to give all news students their very own first Pokemon. Luna had been looking forward to this day more then anything else ever since she watched Zora get his first Pokemon here.

By the time Luna got there, Solar had already gotten in line with four other eleven year olds. Luna got in line right next to him and peered around to see what pokemon were available. In front of the line were seven Pokemon. Fuecoco, Sprigatito, Quaxly, Charmander, Scorebunny, Clauncher, and Skrelp.

“I think we missed the speech.” Solar whispered.

“Good, that's the only boring part of this whole thing.” Luna responded.

Soon enough it was time to start picking their Pokemon. The reason why they wanted to get there early was because its first come first serve. There was a Pokemon for everyone, however if you were the last person to get there then you only get two to choose from. One by one the seven Pokemon got picked as another kid got anew life long friend. First Charmander, then Fuecoco, Skrelp, Scorbunny...

Then it was Solar's turn to pick. Sprigatito, Clauncher, or Quaxly. He bent down to the level of the three small Pokemon. One stood out to him more then the others, a little Blue lobster who looked so full of energy she might explode. “I'll pick Clauncher.” he says to Clavel, who gives a warm smile and hands over a pokeball with a sticker of a Clauncher on it.

Finally it was Luna's turn. She had two options, though it wasnt a tough decision. Her older brother, Zora, had picked Sprigatito and has had nothing but good things to say. Let alone the fact that Luna has played with Cartel, Zoras Sprigatito, many times and enjoys the company of the small green cat. “I'll pick Sprigatito.” she says. And she is handed over a pokeball just the same as Solar was.

Luna bent down and pet the Little cat. “I think I'll call you... Lilac.”

Lilac purred in Luna's hand, happy with his new trainer.

[jodellejournals]

throwback thursday: a letter for my 22nd birthday | written on march 7, 2018

many of you do not know, but i keep letters and notes given to me since i was around ten. i consider them as my treasures regardless if they were written in a simple white bond paper, colored ones, stationaries with glitters and stickers, or scented (which is my favorite!). i reread them gently with utmost care, on random times, since they have wilted like flowers and faded into a vintage-brown shade on their edges. suddenly, i am transported to a different time and age.

below was the very first letter i have written to myself and it was for my 22nd birthday. the early twenties are indeed years of hustling and figuring out who you want to be so i decided to acknowledge my struggles and wins and apologize for the times i felt like i wasn’t enough…

to this little dreamer with big dreams and burning passion in her heart, happy birthday! the last two decades have been simultaneously tough and magical but it only ignited a fire in your soul.

on some days, you did not see a rainbow but you have learned how to dance in the storm until it was over. on some nights, you felt like glass breaking into a million pieces, but what matters most is that you chose to rise together with the sun in the morning.

some friends became strangers so hold on to those who are still there even if you are not lovable; but little girl, your family will always be there even if the world turns its back against you so continue to keep them in your heart.

you realized that life was more than just getting good grades or wearing cool roller-skates that everyone else was wearing. it was more than having long and silky hair in high school or being noticed at a millisecond by your crush. it was more than going to your dream university and earning a degree, a 9-5 desk job, establishing networks, or titles. none of these has defined or will ever define you because only you, can. please remember that.

your favorite ice cream flavor will not always be mango when you were a careless kid with pigtails running back and forth at the school ramps at eight or strawberry when you were a shy and hopeless romantic teenager rereading novels written by nicholas sparks at sixteen --- but avocado. maybe it will still change in the years to come and that is okay. it is okay to change as long as it encourages your growth.

i am sorry for the times i have forgotten to take care of you or loved you any less than what you deserve. now, i am busy showering you with love and appreciation on a daily basis and caring less of what people think.

i am so proud of you — for keeping the faith and choosing to keep moving forward until you see the light at the end of the tunnel. hold on to that faith, as tight as you can, just like how you held on to that rope back in grade-school, on your sports fest playing tug of war. your battles only made you stronger and your chaos only made you wiser.

every time i see this photograph of yours, a bit grainy and faded through the passing of years gone by, i remember being at the tender age of five, full of dreams, hope, and wonder. a child-like innocence that made me see the world in rose-tainted glasses; but even if you remove those glasses and started seeing the thorns, i hope that you will never lose that sparkle in your eyes and also the warmth in your smile, no matter how old you age.

sincerely,

your newly turned 22-year-old self today

[dzpenumbra]

2/20/23

It is a welcome relief to be able to finally say, after this hell of a month, that today was a good day. It had its tough moments, of course, but all-in-all, it was good.

I started the day with a shoulders and neck focused yoga routine, which was difficult in different ways than the usual full-body one, but overall was much less exhausting. It was a welcome change of pace. I can't believe I'm creeping up on 2 months of doing yoga every day. It feels like it's going to be similar to this journal if I keep pace, where it actually feels weird to not do it. They say all you need is 60 days to develop a lasting habit... Whoever "they" are.

I decided to do some breathing meditation after, which actually was... mildly successful. My brain was much more quiet this morning, yoga really helps with that when it grabs my focus, and once my brain is in yoga-mode, I really think that helps with meditation.

I ran out of energy drinks. I know, boo hoo. XD I decided to try chai instead this morning. It was good, it was just a bit watery for my taste, I don't really know how to make it properly yet. And... I drank like 3/4 of it and then just completely spaced out for an hour and a half. Like... that time just melted away. YouTube, of course, but like... it felt like 20 minutes or something.

My brother texted, he said he was home alone with his kid and his dog and invited me to come and keep them company, then do this takeout thing he was looking forward to when his wife got home. I was nervous. I don't know why, it was just... there. I stalled on getting back to him until after yoga, then let him know I could be there in an hour. He said it was cool whenever, and that's when the time just... disappeared. I was eating, and I've been eating really slow lately, so that was probably it. So I showered quick and swung over there, grabbing an energy drink along the way because... I was just... not really with it. Like I pulled my debit card early with the chip reader and everything, like I was just kinda on autopilot, so I justified going with the energy drink. I need to be mindful of tapering down on caffeine, not just cutting it out. Because my tolerance is very high, my regular intake is pretty damn high at an energy drink every day, and the effects of coming off of caffeine affect more than just my physical, it's like... cognitive and quality of life too. So... slow is steady, steady is fast. The Navy SEAL approach to cutting down on caffeine... XD

Before I left... I finally watched a video that my sister in law recommended, to show me... I'm already getting uncomfortable typing this, brace for it... the dog training philosophy they are down with. And... it made me uncomfortable. This has a bit of a backstory and I don't want to go too deep into it because it's really emotional for me, but I'll try and see how it goes. I always grew up with German Shepherds, and they've all been the sweetest, most lovely dogs. Every one of them. But my mom and a friend of hers she met when I was in middle school, who trained dogs, were really into like... competitive obedience training? Like... super into it. And I still don't really know why? Like... for protection, I guess? But like... I don't know, it's weird. It was just a part of my life since I was like 11, so I never really questioned it until recently. And my older brother is the same way, I guess, but he's... 3 years older than me... and still hasn't questioned it... And this obedience training, and protection training, was like... police dog training. Like military training kinda shit. And I've seen a lot of people doing it. And, to be fair, it's definitely effective, and impressive. But, if I'm being honest, a lot of the methods... I find unethical. This is the uncomfortable part, the part that turns my stomach a bit and sets off a bunch of trauma responses. Because I had a German Shepherd too. For 10 years. And she was trained before I got her, and I worked to train her as well on top of that, because she was supposed to serve as an actual service dog for me. And, for a while, did. My mom really insisted on it, she thought it would help me. (It actually ended up really throwing my life off and restricting my living/activity options, to be honest, but I loved my dog to death. Still do.)

For like... 7 years? I treated her... unfairly. And harshly. Not just in methodology, like shutting her in a crate for long periods of time and using an electric collar. I absolutely cringe and shudder when I type that now, but electric collars in my household were very normalized, and I... they make me deeply uncomfortable now. This is getting hard to write, so I'm going to kinda wrap up on this a little. For the last several years of her life, after gaining clarity and perspective, after connecting with her on a very very deep level, as a peer. As a friend, as a family member. I made up for it. I gave her an amazing, free, joyful, playful life. And I am so fucking glad I did. I threw her electric collar in the trash, I disassembled her crate permanently. I got her pretty bandanas to wear, and comfy pink collars. I let her wander off leash more often. I shared ice cream with her. I trusted her more, and we connected as friends. Not "master" and... well... animal servant? Trying to find a civil term for it.

Okay, that's enough for now, I'm tearing up. I'm telling this as context because... the animal trainer guy that my sister in law mentioned, that I looked up on YouTube before I went over? On the first page of videos, there was a video that was called something like "Building your dog's working drive by using social isolation as a learning tool." And my fucking heart sank. Like... Fuck. Like... dude. What? 1) working drive? Talk about buzz words, okay. Are we talking about like... slaves here? Just replace the word "dog" with "slave" and it starts to get really fucking uncomfortable. And I'd like to think it's not the fact that we were doing those actions to people that was the problem, it was the actions themselves. The treatment itself. That the treatment of another being in that way is something... not okay. But... we don't think about it that way when it comes to other species. Most don't at least.

So... why not? Like... okay, before going on huge tangents here, let me simplify and be direct. The ethical problem with using social isolation as a motivational tool for humans is because... it's traumatizing, it's like... actually a form of torture. And it causes pain and emotional distress as a form of punishment, and then the rebound effect of being reintroduced to social stimuli (let out of solitary confinement) is a massive positive boost. So you beat the shit out of the dog emotionally, and then when it comes back and gets that gigantic sugar cookie of a dopamine hit when it's finally free? You're there to connect that reward energy boost (that "working drive") to... discipline. Education. Obedience.

And why is this problematic with dogs? Well. Dogs are incredibly social animals, so much that they socialize with other species, it's why we domesticated them. And they are very emotional, and socially bond very deeply. Again... why we domesticated them. So... all the harmful things that are reasons why it's not okay to lock Jeff from Sales in a closet for 2 hours because he's not hitting quarterly quotas? The emotional distress, the trauma. Dogs feel those too. They are absolutely emotional animals, and... that's what started to make me feel really fucking guilty at an obscenely deep level... that changed my world view forever. The main justification I hear is... "dogs are much more... simple-minded than that." Right?

So what does that mean? It's not that they don't experience emotions. It's not that they don't think thoughts, or process pain or fear or any of that. They experience depression, they experience anxiety, they experience trauma and trauma responses. Manipulating these systems is literally how that style of training is intended to work. The fact that the training is effective is proof that trauma has a profound, noticeable effect on dogs. The difference in animal thinking and ours is... I like to compare it to... the difference between a child's thinking and our thinking. In some ways. A child's thoughts are much more simple and experiential, adults tend to be more complex and layered. I think an adult dog can learn and remember a lot of things, so they have a big pool of memory resources to dip into, but I firmly believe that they still experience the world similar to a young child. Just... with much less articulate verbal expression. So they can present as smarter than a young child in some ways, because they have that experience and memory bank to dip into, but I think they still experience life and think in less complex ways than adult humans.

So... using social isolation to motivate working drive... on a creature that has very clear emotional processing, can absolutely process and remember trauma, and has the experiential capacity of like... a 4 year old? And we shut them in a cage for 3 hours, and half the time they don't even know why? And then use the big "holy fuck, I'm finally free!" endorphin rush to... build excitement to go and do choreographed obedience exercises? That doesn't sound like man's best friend to me. It sounds like Stockholm Syndrome. It sounds like... it could go wrong at any moment. Like all it would take is the dog one day going "I'm fucking sick of this shit" and then they either bolt or start saying "no" to you.

And on the drive to my brothers house, I was ranting this shit at the fucking windshield of my rental car as I was driving down the highway, over the loud music even. I almost turned around. I was really upset. And I know. I KNOW. I can't bring it up. I can't say anything. And that dog, he's so damn sweet. He's just a kid! He's only two, he's a huge bundle of energy, he loves playing so much. But he's still learning, he gets a bit carried away and nippy, which is a very puppy thing. He's super gentle with it, I have not even once been concerned. But my brother definitely freaks out. I tried to be... subtle with my suggestions. I said I had a cat, and one of the first things I had to train Cerry was "gentle". It's a weird one that no one really ever brought up with me. The commands I was told you need to teach your dog were always... commands. Like... down, sit, here, out, stuff like that. But I had to teach my dog to be mindful of... how much she's putting into things. So I would teach her "slow" and "fast". I would teach her "gentle" and "rough". Degrees, gradients. And she knew the difference. And if she was getting too rough because we were dog-playing and she's a dog and I'm a soft-skinned kinda-hairless ape... I would just lock eyes and go "shh... gentle... gentle..." and once she really processed it, she would do it every damn time. And eventually, she even learned when and where to be gentle and where it was okay to play a bit rougher. I think it's SUPER important to teach that. Then they're not just looking to you all the time, and if you're not right there and they don't know what to do then.... what? They do nothing? Or they use their own judgement when they never were taught how to meter that? It seems like a dangerous situation, honestly. And I often see dogs teaching each other that in play. Like "fuck off, you're playing too rough". But we have the advantage of language, and it provides a big edge.

He didn't seem... too receptive to it. I'm unfortunately a bit used to that. I feel like everyone I meet is fucking skeptical of my advice. And it hurts. And it feeds my depression and anxiety like crazy. I hesitate to even share advice, because it's like... what's the point? I'm either going to offend and get yelled at, or they're just going to nod and smile and the second I leave go "yeah, not doing that dumb shit." It's frustrating, but, you know, you do your best.

And... yeah. I don't wanna dwell only on the negative but I'm kinda processing it right now. When my sister in law came home... she went down to take a shower, and at some point just put the dog in the crate. And over dinner, like half an hour later? Maybe an hour later? She explained that he had eaten my nephew's diaper. Like... not the entire diaper, just like... the contents... and some of the fabric, I guess? And my immediate response was like... yep, pretty much, that's life. I think my direct quote was "oh, he must be hungry." And they just went a completely different direction. My brother was like "oh my god, is he sick, is he going to die?" And my sister in law was like... she just seemed upset that he got into something. And I was just like... he's a dog. Who cares. He disposed of a diaper for you. If he pukes then that's no good. The wipes or whatever it was on that he ate is like... guaranteed to pass right through him. And I wanted SO BADLY to share my story of how I came home one day and found that my dog had eaten 7 out of 8 of my moon phase prayer flags. These flags were about 7-8 inch squares each. They must've smelled good or something, I don't know. But she somehow ate them all. And shit them out whole. It was a sight to see, because some of them were still connected! They were made of fucking cloth, she was 100% fine, but at the time I was worried, sure. But like... it's literally fiber. And if it were bad, bad... like a blockage or something? She would be making all kinds of noise.

Unfortunately for that sweet boy, he was left in the crate for a good 2+ hours for that transgression. And I... was very upset by this. Very upset. And every time I went by his crate, I would reach over and reassure him in the kindest, most subtle way I could. I didn't say anything about it. I don't know how I could. It felt similar to like... feeling compelled to tell my parents to get vaccinated. Or wanting to tell my former "best friend" that it made me super uncomfortable when she trained her daughter to send herself to timeout in her room, where she cried and screamed and had no idea why she was there, all the while my "best friend" was narrating to me and explaining the advantages of teaching a 7 year old (I think) how to punish their self. Fucking Twilight Zone shit. When I see things like that. I genuinely don't know what to do. And my PTSD kicks in and says "you are not fucking safe, if you speak up you will be attacked." It's just Red Alert on the Enterprise D, shields up.

So... I just... held my tongue... and made it up to him (the dog) later. I played with him as much as I could, and just made sure to vocally normalize his behaviors, like eating crumbs off the floor and stuff like that. Like "man, I miss having a living vacuum cleaner, made cleanup so much easier! Compost, too!" You know, bring a little light to it. Show that they aren't going to be judged for "not having a well trained dog", that whole bullshit, and that it's cool and we don't have to stress the small stuff.

I just don't know how to engage in those situations. It's confrontation, I guess. But... I don't know if it's the times? Or just me, being depleted of confidence and being trained to expect violent retaliation to like... any critique or disagreement... I don't know what it is. But it just. It doesn't feel safe. And... I hate that others have to suffer because I'm not brave enough to speak up. But at the same time... I feel like me speaking up... gets me kicked out, or not taken seriously, and in the end doesn't even save the victim. In the end, it almost does more damage, it almost eliminates the chance of change.

In the end, you can't change people. You can't make someone stop yelling at their kid. You can call child services when things cross a line or something, but they can only do so much. You just... try to gently guide them? And show them the other side? And hope they can see it? I think? I don't know.

My mind keeps going back to the Jedi. I always thought they were lame and pompous, smug, when I was a naïve younger man. Some of them kinda were, I guess, but like... not the way I thought. I was - and kinda still am - more pro-Grey Jedi. Sith obviously just... they're just self-indulgent. Like the cliche of Satanists, it's almost hedonistic, it's like violence for the sake of pleasure, power for the sake of pleasure, like just chasing a fucking high or something. But the sterility and emotionlessness and chastity of the Jedi always felt like... paranoid. Like it wasn't really necessary if your self-discipline practices were actually working! XD Which is ironic, that the pure, emotionless, still-minded Jedi would be so driven by Fear, of all emotions... knowing just how dangerous it is. It was like... their #1 biggest motivator, and ultimately their downfall. But yeah, I've always been leaning somewhere in the middle. Use your emotions, tap into them, embrace them, get to know them. But don't let them rule you. Find that equilibrium.

I got on to this because - I was trying to figure out how I got on this tangent XD - I was thinking of like... how would a Jedi handle this situation. They see mistreatment, and... it's family. And you know that going "hey, look, he just ate some baby shit, it's not the end of the world. He can come out and chill with us now, right?" even if it's friendly, even if it's civil, even if it's casual... it's kinda... persuasive. It's a little manipulative. And I honestly don't know where to draw the line on that. Is it really my place to disagree with that? To intervene? It is advocating for someone who can't advocate for their self. But it's also kind of a Jedi Mind Trick, which... to be frank... I've always wondered how the Jedi were ethically okay with... XD You're like the embodiment of justice and defending good and freedom, and you go around literally planting thoughts into everyday peoples' brains to manipulate them towards your intentions. Oh, sorry, we call it "influencing" now, my bad...

So yeah, clearly conflicted there.

Besides that... which I honestly just needed to get out of my system... It was a really good time. My nephew is a riot! He's having some vision problems, but he's being a real trooper adjusting to it. He's a great kid, and I miss and love being around kids. I'm very grateful to have the opportunity to live this close to him. My brother and sister in law were both exhausted. We connected, shared stories, it was nice. I talked about a few of my art project ideas, and they both seemed very intrigued and supportive of them, which was... new. It was a bit alien. I usually get yawns or eye rolls, but they seemed genuinely interested. My brother brought up sleep paralysis that he had recently, and I got a nice opportunity to share my insight on sleep and dreams, since that was a huge focus of study for me for ages. For so long that I actually have to remind myself that other people know very little about sleep and dreams, because of how normalized my research has been.

But I found out some interesting stuff about my brother too, that he has a very vivid imagination but it functions in a way similar to mine... aphantasia for the most part, until right on the edge of sleep or super sleep deprived, then super damn vivid. It seems like he's a bit more... polar, in that respect. And I'm a bit median. I can visualize things... somewhat? Sometimes? Not really, but kinda. Hard to describe. But my extremes don't seem to be as vivid as his. I don't know, I'm speculating, but it was interesting, especially since we're related. It's not a conversation I get to have often, and it's fun to learn about someone else and myself at the same time.

I'm hitting a lot of typos now, I'm getting really tired. So yeah, they gave me a table which is awesome, I have it here now. I stopped at a gas station and got ice cream on the way back, treating myself for not turning that car around and for being really committed and strong today. It was well worth it.

Bed time. Glad I processed all that. I don't have a conclusion, but I know very well why I feel the way I do, and I don't feel bad for feeling that way. That, in itself, is super helpful and a big part of why I journal.

[god-whispers]

dec 10

the story of teddy stoddard

i've heard the story of teddy stoddard told as a true story.  recently though i read it was written as fiction.  no matter - the truth of its meaning still rings true as we touch the lives of children!

there is a story many years ago of an elementary teacher.  her name was mrs. thompson.  and as she stood in front of her fifth grade class on the very first day of school, she told the children a lie?

like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same?  but that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named teddy stoddard.

mrs. thompson had watched teddy the year before and noticed that he didn't play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath.  and teddy could be unpleasant.  it got to the point where mrs. thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then putting a big "f" at the top of his papers.

at the school where mrs. thompson taught, she was required to review each child's past records and she put teddy stoddard's off until last.  however, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise.  teddy's first grade teacher wrote, "teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh.  he does his work neatly and has good manners... he is a joy to be around."

his second grade teacher wrote, "teddy stoddard is an excellent student, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle."

his third grade teacher wrote, "his mother's death has been hard on him.  he tries to do his best but his father doesn't show much interest and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken."

teddy's fourth grade teacher wrote, "teddy stoddard is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school.  he doesn't have many friends and sometimes sleeps in class."

by now, mrs. thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself.  she felt even worse when her students brought her christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for teddy's.  his present was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper that he got from a grocery bag.

mrs. thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents.  some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing and a bottle that was one quarter full of perfume.  but she stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed, how pretty the bracelet was.  she put it on and dabbed some of the perfume on her wrist.

teddy stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, "mrs. thompson, today you smelled just like my mom used to."  after the children left she cried for at least an hour.  on that very day, she quit teaching reading, writing, and arithmetic. instead, she began to teach children.

mrs. thompson paid particular attention to teddy.  as she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive.  the more she encouraged him, the faster he responded.  by the end of the year, teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, teddy stoddard became one of her "pets."

a year later, she found a note under her door, from teddy, telling her that she was still the best teacher he ever had in his whole life.  six years went by before she got another note from teddy.  he then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in his whole life.

four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with the highest of honors.  he assured mrs.thompson that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had in his whole life.

then four more years passed and yet another letter came.  this time he explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a little further. the letter explained that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had.  but now his name was a little longer.

the letter was signed, theodore f. stoddard, md.

the story doesn't end there.  you see, there was yet another letter that spring.  teddy said he'd met this girl and was going to be married.  he explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if mrs. thompson might agree to sit in the place at the wedding that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom.

of course, mrs. thompson did.  and guess what? she wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing.  and she made sure she was wearing the perfume that teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together.

they hugged each other, and dr. stoddard whispered in mrs. thompson's ear, "thank you, mrs. thompson, for believing in me.  thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that i could make a difference."  mrs. thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back.  she said, "teddy, you have it all wrong.  you were the one who taught me that i could make a difference.  i didn't know how to teach until i met you."

fact or fiction?  i've heard both.

-------

none of us know what someone else may be going through and how profound a difference we might have in their lives.  be willing to reach out in any way you can.  be willing to be vulnerable if necessary.  "bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ." gal 6:2

[totiredtowrite]

to the dad-kids request, yes- its the readers and the hq boys kid, thanks again!!

Imagine Being A Father

(Couldn't be me)

Warnings ~ like 3 curse words, but really just some ✨fluffy goodness✨

Note: I decided to do headcanons and a little fic thing. Also, I'll try with their characters. I'm not very well versed in Atsumu lol. (The characters are Atsumu, Sakusa, and Tendou). Oh and I also tried my best with the drabble part, cause for some reason my eyes just said nope and feel vv tired.

Male Reader

Sakusa Kiyoomi

Okay first off

Imagine being married to this man

Like

Just being able to wake up and share a cup of coffee in the morning when he has time (or tea or water ykyk)

Anyways

You adopted a little girl when she was around 5 years old?

(She looks nothing like y'all <3)

But this guy is like overworked and tired please give him coffee and a hug thx

And I'm gonna say he isn't too vocal about his relationship

Like his team just does not know that he's liTERALLY MARRIED AND HAS A KID

Let's just say the first few months were rough

BUT IT'S OKAY, CAUSE NOW Y'ALL R HAPPY AND HAVE A 7 YEAR OLD DAUGHTER

So just imagine the teams surprise when they actually find out 💀

Today was the day, as your daughter kept saying. Today, you and you daughter were going to watch your husband play for the first time in a while. Your little girl was all hyped up, jumping around and practically dragging you out of bed.

It was cute, really. The actual game? Overwhelming in the best way. She was cheering loudly from the sidelines, eyes bright and starry. Anyone who saw you knew that she was your daughter, purely because of the adoration in your eyes. You felt so proud, so big!

And when the game ended with the Jackals winning, she practically jumped three feet in the air. As people were starting to leave, you gently told her that you were "going to see daddy."

You pick her up, and make your way down the stands. Of course that doesn't last long as she worms her way out of your arms and runs towards Sakusa, barreling into his leg at full force. "Papa! You did really good! The ball was like whooosh and the other guys were–" she continued to talk about how amazing he was as you made your way over and pecked him.

"You did well out there love," you mused into his lips. He smiled softly and kissed you back, leaning down to pick up your daughter. "It was tough." He said to your daughter. She giggled, little fists digging into his jersey.

The team? In shock. Before anyone could say anything, (as Bokuto was very obviously preparing to do), Sakusa shot them a sharp glare and turned to pat his daughters head, setting her down gently. "I'll meet you at the car," he said, rolling his eyes in the teams direction. You laughed softly and nodded.

Truly, this little family of yours was a blessing.

Atsumu Miya

I know this bitch looks like the type to not want kids, but when you two met the little twin boys for the first time, he just went ✨👄✨

Loves them with all his heart honestly

Your twins r 8 btw

His first thought was "omg did he do this because I have a twin what a tool"

And then he went "omg he did this because I have a twin, I love him"

Guy is smitten for you and would burn a whole ass building down for his sons

Def brags to Osamu about it

And the team

"Sorry can't make it tonight I'm gonna spend time with mY KIDS AND HUSBAND"

He always makes sure people know my guy is PROUD

Loves to spend time just doing whatever with his boysss

Can and will make time for you

Has 100 percent missed practice for y'all before

And would do it again what a gremlin

"Daaaad!" Atsumu turned his attention away from you. One of you kids was running towards you at full speed. "Heeeeelp!" He jumped onto the couch with you and your husband.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" Atsumu asks.

"He's gonna kick me because I chose the movie!"

You chuckled softly. These bundles of chaos reminded you of Atsumu and Osamu, the way they bickered back in high school. You sighed wistfully, combing your fingers through your sons hair as his twin comes running down the hallway. When he saw that his brother was in the safety of "where you parents can see you" he slowed to a walk and nervously fiddles his hands.

"Hi dad...hi papa." Atsumu raised a brow, but honestly wasn't all that shocked. Having siblings basically means "you can fight anywhere but in front of your parents." You chuckled again and poked Atsumu go get his attention.

He turned to you. "Why don't you and the boys make popcorn while I get the movie up, hm?" You said, reaching for the remote. The twins jumped and smiled, both bouncing on their toes once one got off of your lap.

"Course dear," Atsumu pressed a swift kiss to your lips and stood up. "Alright thing one, thing two," he addressed them both, "let's go make popcorn while your dad works his TV magic." He grinned at them, and followed as they ran into the kitchen excitedly.

As rowdy as your kids, (and your husband), could be, this house really did feel like home.

Tendou Satori

I think he's the most chaotic dad here

Because he works with chocolate in the timeskip, he definitely brings some home to your kid when you sPECIFICALLY SAY NOT TO

Such a tool I love him

You adopted a boy btw

Your son is like 11 years old now

At first you didn't know about adopting an older kid, but you admit it was the BEST DECISION EVER

Y'all r cute

Like going out and having little family days

Best believe if your kid has any trouble at school Ten will ACT UP

And no I don't mean beating up little kids

Loves you both so much it literally hurts

You'll like come home from work and see Tendou and your kid in the living room just covered in paint

Which as I think about it is a really good prompt so I'm gonna write that hehe

Today was tiring, you decided. Work had been absolute hell, as your boss decided that you were capable enough to handle twice the amount of work as usual. Your hands ached from typing and writing all day long, your eyes were tired from looking at screens and papers all day long, and honestly the only thing you wanted was a break from all the words.

Which is why it was a suprise when you opened the door to your apartment and your husband was sitting in the living room with your son, both covered in paint. They were talking and painting random things messily. You were just thankful that Satori had the sense to lay newspapers down beforehand, because paint was everywhere.

You didn't say a word as you closed the door, slipped off your shoes, dropped your bag and hobbled forward to collapse on the couch. "Hi dad!" Your son says loudly. "Dad #2 said that you were gonna be late today, so we ordered takeout! He says it's on the way now!"

"That's great kid," you said sleepily. It was just like your son to inform you about the most crucial current detail going on, but he hadn't said anything about the paint yet.

Tendou grinned at you, little dried green and blue splatters of paint on his face offsetting his red hair. "We wanted to make you something!" He said proudly. He then gestured at you son. "This little guy did most of the work honestly."

You tilted your head. Make you something? That was new. Your son nods. "Dad #2 said that you got more work and was gonna be late, so I wanted to make to a picture!" He holds up a rather well done cartoonish dog. Satori held up his own paper, which was a hastily painted house and trees.

You sighed, a tired smile taking over your face. They were dorks, but they were your dorks.

[ray-ray-writings]

Defending Family-Technoblade, Wilbur Soot, and Tommyinnit

This is a Brother!Technoblade & Brother!Wilbur Soot &Brother!Tommyinnit x gn!reader. This is not in the dreamsmp but it is in the SBI AU where Philza is the father of Wilbur, Technoblade, Tommy and in this imagine, Y/N! In this, Y/N is younger than Wilbur and Techno but older than Tommy

When Y/N hears the school bully talking shit about their family… Well it’s no surprise when that bully gets hit. 

Y/N’s POV

“Y/N! Wake up!” The annoying voice of my even more annoying brother sounded as a pillow smacked me in the face waking me from my sleep. My eyes shot open and I made contact with Tommy’s blue eyes, “Ow Tommy! What the hell?!?” I exclaimed, sitting myself up, rubbing the bridge of my nose trying to ease the throbbing pain. Tommy simply threw his head back and cackled before bolting out of the room. 

I let out a sigh before throwing the blankets off of me before getting out of bed to get ready for the day. It didn’t take long. I stripped off my PJs and threw on a random outfit before making my way to the bathroom to do my business. As I was brushing my hair, Tommy pounded on the door, “HURRY UP Y/N! I need in there!” He yelled from the other side of the door. I rolled my eyes and yelled back, “You should have thought of that before you woke me up! You can wait!” Tommy continued to knock on the door, annoying me even further. 

Finally, once I was done, I swung the door open causing Tommy to stumble forward. I smirked as he caught himself and looked at me in annoyance, “Finally!” He let out, walking further in while I walked out. “Shut up,” I responded, the door slamming closed behind me. 

I made my way downstairs to the kitchen where I found my father over the stove and my two other brothers sitting at the kitchen island waiting for my dad to finish making breakfast. “Good morning,” I beamed, sitting on the stool in between Wilbur and Techno causing everyone to turn to me for a moment. Dadza grinned at me before going back to his skillet, “Morning honey, how’d you sleep?” “I slept fine. I would have preferred a different wake up call though,” I answered, rolling my eyes at the thought. My older brothers both let out laughs as Dadza sighed, “What did he do this time?” Dadza questioned, turning around, bringing the pan with him. “He smacked my face with a pillow and yelled at me… Nothing new, but still not something preferred.” Dadza nodded as he scooped eggs from the skillet onto the plate before me. He then proceeded to turn and also place a pancake and a couple slices of bacon on my plate as well. “Thank you,” I thanked sincerely, picking up my fork and knife, digging in. “Anytime kiddo.” 

As the three of us ate, footsteps bounded down the stairs behind. “Morning,” Tommy called, sitting on the open stool next to Wilbur. “Morning,” the three responded. Dadza moved quickly and filled Tommy’s plate with breakfast before moving to fill his own. “Sleep well Tommy?” He asked, sitting on the one stool that sat across from us. “Yep! Had an amazing dream where I married a hot woman and then I woke up and smacked Y/N in the face to wake them up. Pretty Pogchamp morning,” Tommy babbled, his mouth full of eggs as he spoke. Dadza made a face of disgust, “Please don’t speak with your mouth full Tommy. And please stop smacking your sibling in the face to wake them up, you know they hate it.” “Oh I know they hate it. That’s why I keep doing it,” Tommy announced, smirking at me from the other side of our brother. “If Wilbur wasn’t here right now, I’d smack you,” I hissed, glaring at my little brother. “But he is and so you can’t do anything,” Tommy teased, sticking his tongue out at me. I looked up to Wilbur, my eyes pleading at him to do something. Wilbur got the message and raised his hand and smacked the back of Tommy’s head, causing him to yelp. “Hey!” “You asked for it!” 

“Kids! Kids! Please, can we just have a calm morning for once?” our dad slightly pleaded. I let out a deep breath and nodded, “Anything for you dad,” I muttered before shoving more pancake into my mouth. Tommy huffed, but also went back to his breakfast. “Now that that’s over, what are you doing today?” Techno questioned, looking to our father. Philza smiled at the change of topic, “Well there are a few new clients at work that I have been in charge of so I’ll mostly be pretty busy all day. I’ll be home in time for dinner though, do you guys want me to pick something up or can you handle it.” Before Tommy or I could ask for pizza, Techno and Wilbur spoke up at the same time, “We can handle it.” I couldn’t help but huff and slightly pout. I really wanted pizza. 

I didn’t have time to dwell on it though because an alarm went off causing the four of us kids to jump into action. The alarm was set in order to get us out of the house because if we didn’t leave at that specific time, we would be late for school. Techno and Wilbur no longer went to high school, they both graduated three years ago. But the two still took us to school everyday so Dadza wouldn’t have to worry about it. Wilbur was the only one that could drive, and as much as he hates to admit it, Techno hates being left alone so he always came along. 

The four of us finished the food on our plates, placing them in the sink. “Bye Dadza,” I chimed, giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek before heading to the door. I could hear the other three doing the same before they joined me by the door. I slipped on my back pack, Tommy doing the same, before exiting the house and piling into Wilbur’s car. The ride to school consisted of Wilbur, Tommy, and I screaming along to whatever music was playing, and Techno pretending to be annoyed by the three of us. 

“Alright. Get out,” Wilbur demanded, putting the car in park outside the front of the high school. “Thank you Will. Bye Tech! Love you both!” I chimed before getting out of the car. “Bye Y/N, love you too” They responded before I shut the door. Tommy echoed what I had said, getting the same response before he closed his door as well. Wilbur drove away leaving Tommy and I standing there. “Come on Tommathy” I stated before walking toward the entrance of the school. “Don’t call me that” Tommy demanded, but followed close behind me. I threw my head back in laughter and shook my head. “I’ll do what I please thank you.” 

Once we were inside, Tommy and I went separate ways. He went to his locker to meet up with his best friend, Tubbo and I went to mine meeting up with my best friend, Sapnap. Sapnap and I became best friends due to our brothers. Dream and George were pretty good friends with Wilbur and Techno and when they went places Dadza sometimes forced them to take me with them so he could take care of Tommy. Dream and George would in turn bring their younger brother, Sapnap, so that we would stay out of their way. We grew very close through all the hang out time and it was like I had yet another brother. 

“Hey dork,” I greeted my best friend as I opened my locker. “Hey loser. Have a good night?” He greeted back, leaning against the locker next to me. I hummed and nodded at his question, “Yeah, it was pretty good. Did you get the math homework done?” I asked, closing my locker and turning to him. A panicked look over took his face, “We had math homework?” I couldn’t help but laugh at my best friend’s forgetfulness. “Yes we did. And lucky for you I did it… Yes you can copy it.” I answered his unasked question. Sapnap immediately relaxed. A chuckle escaped his lips as he slung an arm around my shoulder, “You’re the best.” “Yeah, yeah.” 

Together the two of us made our way to our first class, but a familiar voice caused me to stop in my tracks, “Come on man. Just give it back!” It was Tommy. Sapnap gave me a confused look as I turned around and marched toward the sound of my brother’s voice. My blood began to boil at the sight in front of me. There, in front of my brother, stood Chad, the school bully. In his hand was one of Tommy’s most prized possessions, his music disc. That was the last thing that our mom gave to him before she passed. He loved it so dearly and was very careful with it. Why was it here and why the hell does Chad have it? 

“Oh what? You gonna cry about it? Cry like you did when your mommy died?” Chad taunted, holding the disc close to his chest. It didn’t take a detective to tell that Tommy’s eyes were welling with tears. “Please, just give it back,” Tommy practically begged, holding his hand out. “Oh I’ll give it back alright. I’ll give it back in pieces.” Chad brought the disc out and put both hands on it. Before he could begin to bend it, I snapped. “HEY!” I shouted, stomping up to the three boys, Sapnap following behind me. Chad stopped what he was doing, surprised at the new voice, but the smirk returned to his face once he recognized who it was. “Well, looky at what we have here,” He taunted. Paying no mind to his taunt, “Give me the music disc. Now.” I demanded, glaring at the boy. Chad simply threw his head back and laughed, “No, I don’t think I will.” 

“You’re a jerk Chad,” Sapnap spoke up, momentarily distracting the bully, allowing me to rip the disc from Chad’s hands. “Hey!” He let out, his head whipping back to me. “Here Tommy,” I spoke gently, handing the possession back to its rightful owner. Tommy carefully took it before wrapping it back up and sliding it carefully in his book bag. “Thanks Y/N” Tommy thanked quietly. “Anytime Tommy. Let’s go boys,” I demanded before slightly pushing Tommy and Tubbo so they would walk in front of me. 

“That’s right! Run away! Just like your father did when things got tough!” Chad called from behind us. His words caused me to stop in my tracks. “What did you just say?” I hissed over my shoulder. Chad simply smirked and crossed his arms, “You heard me, your father’s a coward. So are your other brothers. Wilbur and Techno? Yeah they’re freaks and you’re just like them,” He responded smugly. I felt a tug on my arm. I looked back in front of me and found Tommy standing there with an extremely worried look on his face. “Come on Y/N. It’s not worth it.” I let out a deep breath before nodding and taking a few steps forward once more. 

As I was walking, a force shoved me from behind causing me to stumble, “That’s right, walk away.” For the third time today, I stopped walking. A smirk covered my face as I slid my backpack off of my back. I mean hey, he started it by pushing me. “What? Did I make you upset? What are you-” I didn’t let Chad finish. 

In one swift motion, I turned on my heel and punched Chad in the face as hard as I could. Chad stumbled back in utter shock, his hand coming up to cover his nose. When he pulled his hand back, it was covered in blood. “You punched me!” He shouted incredulously. “You punched me in the face!” “And I’ll do it again!” In one quick moment, we both rushed forward at each other. Punches were being thrown left and right. A few landed on me, but I didn’t care. The only thing I cared about was defending my family. 

At one point, I stomped on Chad’s toes causing him to lose balance and I pushed him to the ground on his back. I dropped on top of him, straddling his chest and just began wailing on him. “Y/N! Y/N stop! You’ve got him! Stop!” Someone yelled from behind me. I didn’t care to listen to them, the sight of Chad helpless under me too much to pass up. As I wound up for another punch, my arm was being pinned to my side and I was pulled off of the bully. “Let me go!” I screeched, trying so hard to wiggle out of the person’s arms. They turned me around to face them and grabbed my shoulders, shaking me slightly. “Y/N!” It was Sapnap, “It’s over. You knocked him out. It’s done!” His words finally hit me and I stopped fighting in his arms. 

I looked over at Chad and noticed his eyes were closed and his face was bloody and beaten. I looked down at my hands and found them also covered in blood and my knuckles were busted and would surely bruise. I also knew from the feeling that my face was also covered in blood. I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at what had just happened. Sapnap looked at me like I was actually crazy. I gave him a little shrug, “Oops.” “Y/N MINECRAFT! TO THE OFFICE NOW!” 

So there I found myself sitting in the principal’s office, holding an ice pack to my knuckles. Tommy, Tubbo, Sapnap had given their testimony as to what had happened to the principal before they were sent back to class. Chad was still laid up in the nurse’s office. He was waiting there until his parents could come. They had informed me they had to call my parents as well. I begged them not to call my dad, I knew today was a big important day for his business. The secretary, who knew me very well and knew I was a good kid, agreed and instead called my big brothers to come pick me up. That almost made me more nervous than if my father were to pick me up. 

It didn’t take long for Wilbur and Techno to show up. Neither of them looked at me when they walked in, which caused a pit to form in my stomach. The principal gave them a very brief description as to what had happened, just that I had got in a physical fight and was suspended for today and the next two days. “Let’s go,” Wilbur muttered as he passed me, walking out the door, Techno following behind him. I scrambled up quickly, wishing the secretary goodbye before following my brother’s out the door. 

The car ride back home was deadly silent. The radio wasn’t even on. Wilbur and Techno didn’t talk to me or each other the entire ride. Wilbur pulled into our driveway, parked, and killed the engine. He remained in his seat though, and didn't make a move to get out of the car, causing me to remain seated as well. “This isn’t like you, Y/N. What the hell happened?” Wilbur asked quietly, not turning to look at me. “He took Tommy’s disc,” I murmured quietly. “What? Speak up,” Wilbur demanded, looking at me through the rear-view mirror. “He took Tommy’s disc!” I spilled, getting it off my chest. “He took Tommy’s disc and wouldn’t give it back. So I got it back and then when we were walking away, he made fun of dad and you two and Tommy pulled me along, but then Chad shoved me so I turned around and punched him. When he continued to come at me, I fought him. I knocked him out. But he deserved it. He can’t just make fun of you and Techno and dad and Tommy and get away with it and-” “Y/N!” Techno interjected, cutting me off. “Yeah?” I asked, kind of breathless. “He took Tommy’s disc? And then made fun of our family? And proceeded to shove you?” Techno questioned, making sure he understood the story. I nodded, “Yeah”

There was a brief moment of silence before Techno broke out in a laugh, causing Wilbur to grin. “Well good on you then!” Techno cheered, belly laughing. “You’re not mad?” I questioned, still a bit hesitant. Wilbur let out a sigh and shook his head no, “I was at first… Well maybe not. I think I was more surprised than anything. We’ve never had that problem with you and it shocked me to the core to get that phone call. If anything I thought it would be Tommy first.” We all had a laugh about that. “But hearing you did that to defend us. Our family. How could I be mad at that?” 

Wilbur took off his seatbelt and got out of the car, causing Techno and I to do the same. As I got out, Wilbur scooped me up in a big hug. Techno quickly made his way around the car and joined our hug. “I’m so proud of you for defending yourself and your family. Although, next time I would prefer it if you did it without the violence,” Wilbur claimed, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head. “I wouldn’t. The more violence the better!” Techno chimed in. Giggles escaped my lips at that, of course he would say something like that. “I think I’ll try and lay low for a while. Although now everyone knows not to mess with Y/N Minecraft!” The other two joined in my laughter. “Come on Y/N. Let’s get you cleaned and bandaged up and then we’ll go for ice cream.” Wilbur said, pulling away from the hug and dragging me toward the house. I raised my eyebrow as we got inside, “It’s 8 in the morning?” Wilbur shook his head and rolled his eyes as he sat me down in the kitchen, Techno leaving to get the first aid kit. “There is never a wrong time for ice cream”

There you have it! I hope you enjoyed! If so, please be sure to leave a like!!

[gucciwins]

Trouble Follows

Harry’s a firefighter, he believes in accidents not coincidences but that changes when he meets Y/N multiples times at different calls. 

Word count: 8128

A/N: Hello friends, hope you’re well. life has been eventful since the start of the year but when is it not. first story of 2021 and i’m excited to share it. i started this story a few months back (yes chicago fire was an inspiration). firefighter!harry is dear and near to my heart. i do hope you love it and let me know you thoughts. happy reading 

It's the start of a twenty-four-hour shift. 

A day that feels like it may never end until it does. 

 Harry's in the common room with the crew. He's got his black coffee, his first of many for the day, and the morning's paper that Lincoln dropped on the table. There isn't anything impressive; he grabs a pen he sees on the table and begins to do the crossword puzzle. 

10 letters

1. down - crater creator. 

Harry's already lost, and it is only the first one.

He's not good at them, not one bit. Sarah always ends up finishing the crosswords. 

The chatter is loud, and as he slides the newspaper down to Mitch, who will silently hand it over to Sarah. Harry likes the morning buzz; everyone catches up from not seeing each other for forty-eight hours. Although, many do see each other, seeing as they are roommates. Harry used to live with Mitch until he moved in with Sarah last fall after two years of dating. Mitch told him there might be a wedding in the future or, as Sarah likes to joke about all the time, an elopement.

"Morning, H.," Wilson says, patting his shoulder, making his way to the empty coffee awaiting him. Harry knows they are seconds away from an outburst. Wilson can be just a tad bit dramatic. 

The alarms begin to ring as he lifts up the empty pot. "Truck 51, Squad 3, 62, Battalion 25, Ambulance 62 House fire at 5082 North Bell Ave." 

"Looks like we were saved by the bell." Lincoln laughs as they all rush out to get dressed and on the truck as quick as they can. 

Harry and Mitch are out in seconds, never one to lollygag. The rest are quick to follow, slipping on their pants, and the coat quickly follows. Harry looks around, making sure everyone is accounted for before jumping into his spot in the passenger seat, Wilson at the wheel pulling out of the station with the siren blaring.

He watches the city go by as they rush to their destination. There is a lot heard of trees they pass by, and he knows they are passing the city park that is always filled with laughter and Harry knows they will be arriving soon, and as always, he prepares for the worst but hopes for the best. 

They arrive in under ten minutes. It's a nice residential area, one that doesn't make frequent calls. The fire seems under control, not growing, but there is a lot of smoke. "Frankie, Lincoln, make sure these people stay back." 

"You got it, Lieutenant," Lincoln responds quickly, getting to work, Frankie following right behind him.

Harry spots an old woman being held up by a young female his age. The old woman looks distraught by the fire, and Harry knows this must be the owner. 

"Ma'am, I'm Lieutenant Styles. Can you tell me what happened?" He approaches, voice firm, ready to take in the needed information. 

"She inhaled a lot of smoke. Can your paramedic check her out?" Harry's eyes shift to the woman. She's beautiful; she's in grey sweats and an oversized sweater that has what he assumes is Pascal from Tangled coming out of the pocket. Harry shakes his thoughts away, focusing back on her catching her last words. "Still in shock."  

"Sarah," Harry calls out once, and she is quick to rush over. They set the old woman on the stretcher and quickly put an oxygen mask over her. 

"Miss, may you tell me what you know. That way, we figure out the best way to get this fire out." 

She's quick to nod. "Of course, I was on my way over to check on Mrs. Waters like I do every morning, but this time was different. Earl, her next-door neighbor, was outside calling 9-1-1. He told me he didn't see her run out. I rushed in to see her standing on the top steps of her staircase, staring into the burning room. She was coughing a lot, and I rushed her out. She thinks she knocked the candle down in her knitting room when she went down for her tea." She says all that in one breath. "The room is the first door on the left up the stairs. It's the back of the house."

Harry nods at her before turning away. "Mitch, you and Wilson take the hose through the side gate. Spray the room; it's a candle fire. Once it's out, let me know, so we can go in for a sweep through."

"Yes, Lieutenant."

Harry sees Mrs. Waters has begun to calm down and has the color back in her face. He knows they are going to take her down to Med to do a run-through. Harry turns around to speak with the young woman, but he doesn't see her anymore. 

He's about to ask Sarah when he sees Chief Rivera run into a sprint and catches her in his arms. He didn't notice she began to walk away from him and over to the other pedestrians to assure them everything was alright. Harry yells for Esme, worried for the woman.

"I'm good." She barely makes out. "Think the adrenaline has run its course. That's all. I didn't even inhale that much smoke." 

Chief Rivera ignores her protests and sets her on the side of the ambulance. "Please check her out." He directs his orders to Esme. 

"Thanks for saving me, Mr. Chief. That would have led to a nasty concussion." Pascal sweater answers. 

Chief gives her a quick nod before walking away.

"Miss, what's your name," Esme asks her. Putting an oxygen mask over her face and resting it on her nose and mouth. She takes a deep breath before answering. 

"Y/N." 

Beautiful name. It suits her. 

"Do your lungs hurt or your chest?" 

"No, do you think I can ride with Mrs. Waters?" Y/N interrupts Esme with an apologetic smile. "It's just that her granddaughter is her last living relative and lives an hour away. Her husband passed away four months ago. I'm all she's got."

"We've got room for you," Sarah responds, always having a soft spot even though you wouldn't know from her tough exterior. 

Harry walks away, not hearing the rest of the conversation but feeling good that both are okay. He thinks she's crazy for rushing into a burning building with nothing on her to protect her, but he does this for a living, so who is he to judge? 

Mitch gives him the all-clear. 

Harry heads into the building with Frankie and Lincoln, no more thoughts of the beautiful girl he met. 

He's got a job to do, and he has to do it right. They start in the living room before entering the kitchen, seeing dirty dishes in the sink and a plate of what looks like fresh banana bread. He's going to be left with that craving. Harry leads the way up, careful with the stairs just in case of collapse, seeing how black the once blue carpet has turned. There was a lot of damage, and it pains him to see such a well-loved house be affected this way. 

"All clear!" He shouts, making sure Lincoln and Frankie head down before him. 

Once back outside, Harry slips off his helmet. He nods over to Chief Rivera, who gives him a curt nod in return. He turns around to address the crew, "Pack it up." Everyone scatters to gather and put away their tools as quickly as they can. 

All in a day's work, time to head back and hope each call is as successful as this one.

Harry might not tell anyone, but the woman Y/N stays on his mind all day. 

Sitting in his office, getting paperwork done is not something he enjoys. He is good at it, though. 

He's always thorough, a perfectionist. 

It's essential because the Battalion Chief isn't kind at all, and even the smallest mistake on a report can send him on a full-on rage rampage. Thankfully, it's been a few months, and he is on his fourth wife stuck in the honeymoon phase, at least for the time being, giving them all some much-needed peace. 

Harry has an open-door policy; he closes it; he feels he loses that connection to his friends. They may be coworkers, but after everything they have been through, he sees them as family, and one does not close the door on family. 

It is also because he gets to hear all that's going on. Sarah and Mitch were going to visit his family in the upcoming month, and Sarah seemed far more excited than Mitch. Wilson had a new date lined up for the weekend to make up for the next few days he has to spend at work. Esme was talking Frankie's ear off about how she was knitting a new blanket for her niece and how each patch would be a different color with a different meaning.  

He likes how well they all get on. Squad might keep their distance, but everyone does get along. It's not common in firehouses as he's heard from others. The hazing gets taken too far and ever a few male chauvinists. Don't worry, that isn't the one thing the Battalion Chief does not accept; he respects and loves women just doesn't like others' happiness. 

Harry's proud of how far he has come, but most of the family he has become a part of. He knows how lucky he is. It also means he will never take it for granted.

 They are his home away from home. Seeing as his family is an ocean away. 

"Harry." 

He looks up, seeing Mitch staring at him. "How can I help you, Mitchell?"

Mitch rolls his eyes, causing Harry to smirk. "Was wondering what you were doing after shift today?" 

"Asking me on a date? Think Sarah might get jealous." Harry smirks at his best friend.  

"It was her idea." 

Harry smirks is replaced with a sincere smile. "Told you she has a soft spot for me." 

"Dinner at my place? Have a few drinks, watch one of your favorite romantic comedies." Mitch suggests not at all like him to do so. 

Harry was about to say yes when the alarm started ringing. "Truck 51, Squad 3, Battalion 25, Ambulance 62." A brief pause, "School fire 1260 West Adams."

"That's the small elementary school up the street," Harry tells him, shooting up from his chair and out the door to get in the protective gear.

Harry knows this fire won't be easy, but he's with the best of the best and knows it'll be alright. He knows they are approaching, and he always likes to go over how he wants things to be handled before getting out, but more significant fires need more focus. He also knows they all fall under the Chief's orders today and not his. 

"Mitch and Wilson go in together. You know how it goes. Get everyone to head out, and our priority is getting the fire out" Harry looks back, getting a silent nod. "Candidate, how are you feeling?" 

"Ready, Lieutenant." She answers confidently. 

Harry gives her a sharp look, knowing he's got nothing to worry about her. Frankie is one of the best firefighters truck 51 has ever had. "Good, you'll be going in with Lincoln." 

"What about you, Lieutenant?" Lincoln can't help but ask.

"I'm sure the Chief is going in. I'm going to stick with him." Harry knows his Chief well, and nothing will stop him from helping out. 

Wilson parks right out front, and Harry can't see any smoke coming out. At least, not yet. 

Harry is met with who he assumes is the principal; he didn't have time for an introduction. The woman explained there was a science lab gone wrong and that the sprinklers did not go off. They rushed everyone out quickly, following the fire drill procedures.

These kids are panicked but are being pointed towards an exit, and not until after the fire is controlled can they make sure everyone is counted for. Harry knows they have to work swiftly and make sure no one gets left inside. 

A man with glasses and a smoked black salmon shirt approached them, and Harry assumed by the looks of it he was the teacher that was part of the fire. "The bunsen burner caught fire. I don't know why. We've done this experiment for years without accidents." 

He eyes a few students wet and can assume the sprinklers went off much later than they would have liked. It means the fire has lessened, and it was safer to go in. 

"We'll take care of it." He assures them. 

"Get two hose lines in there." Chief Rivera directs right away. "Truck, Squad search, and evacuate. Let's go." 

Everyone moves and begins to make their way into the burning building. It's a small two-story building; he sees frightened first graders to fifth graders watching him as he makes his way inside. 

"Keep moving," Chief Rivera says to teachers ushering students out. 

Harry knows Sarah and Esme have many people to look after and hope that more help can get there sooner rather than later. 

As he makes his way inside, he feels the alarm ringing in his ears as he follows close behind Chief. It's something he's used to but doesn't mean he likes it.

"Fire department, call out," Harry shouts. He scans each room, not seeing anything and continuing on.  

They make way to where the fire is, and it's growing. 

Harry can see a bunsen burner tipped on its side. He takes a step towards the classroom and see's another tipped over but with a tear in it. It seems that one ripped and caught a spark setting the fire off. 

"Chief, we need to get the gas off, or it'll only continue to grow." Harry looks over at Jorge, both waiting for the order to go in. 

Chief speaks into his radio, asking where the gas shut off is located. Harry hears Florence recite back what a male voice told him to the Chief.

"Gas tank is in the backroom; it should shut it off. Be careful." His voice gruff. 

"You got it." 

Jorge leads, and Harry follows behind right on his heel. It only grows hotter as they make their way inside. He hugs the right side of the room, making sure to avoid the growing fire. 

Jorge reaches to shut it when Harry notices a second one. "Jorge, there's two. We need to shut them at the same time." Harry hurries over. "Ready, turn!" 

It clicks shut, and they let out a deep breath. Jorge pats Harry on the shoulder in acknowledgment. 

"Let's head out. They need to hose this down." 

Harry nods and follows him out, moving much faster this time. As quick as he was in the building, he now stands outside of it. He slips his helmet off, wanting to lose some pressure. 

"Hey Chief, the fire's out." Lincoln comes out to inform. 

Chief responds with a grunt, turning to the principal, holding a binder with lots of overflowing papers. 

"What's the count?" Everyone holds their breath, waiting for the news. Squad prepared to go in if necessary.

"Everyone Is accounted for, Chief." She responds, a shaky smile on her face. 

"Good." 

Harry lets out the breath he was holding. There was no real injury today, and he is thankful for being burnt in a fire is not easy, and he knows that from experience. 

His crew had begun to clean up already, and he was about to join when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turns to see a familiar woman but waits for her to speak; after all, she approached him. 

"Hello, Lieutenant." She greets with a small smile. "There was no injury right. I checked over my students but want to know everyone else is safe." 

"Injuries there were none unless you count Lincoln tripping into the truck on the way here." Harry jokes, not sure at all what made him break his seriousness. 

She laughs. It's music to his ears.

He would enjoy being able to hear it again.

"Our team got everyone oxygen that needed it. The students and teachers are looking fine, and I assume parents have been informed of the incident." 

"Called and picked up as soon as you clear out." 

Harry stares at her for another second; she's wearing a lilac knitted sweater with bell-bottom jeans. He chuckles looks like he isn't the only one still wearing them out and about. 

"You're from the North Bell fire," Harry tells her. He acts like her name slipped his mind, but that is the farthest thing from the truth. Her face and her name have not left his mind since that day. It's as if it has been imprinted. 

"Yeah, Mrs. Waters. Good memory." She nods at him, obviously impressed. "She's good, staying with her granddaughter for the time being." 

"That's nice to hear." Harry knows their conversation is coming to an end. 

 "Well, thank you for lessening my concern. Have a good day, Lieutenant Styles." She flashes him a broad smile, her eyes shining bright, keeping him entranced even after she walks away from him.

Harry watches her walk away, how she kneels down to talk to a young girl who was crying. Wipes her tears away with a handkerchief, she pulled out of her pocket. Little girl eventually laughs; it rings loud throughout the mess that way today; a child's laugh uplifting in a moment of darkness. It truly is the small things in life that should be appreciated. 

 His thoughts drift back to Y/N; what are the odds he runs into her just one week later. 

She's pretty; he's not going to lie. He'd ask her on a date if he were to meet her at a bar, but no, never on the job. 

If it's happened twice, maybe he's lucky enough for a third. 

Although he hopes under better circumstances. 

Harry had gone unbothered for over two hours, which is too long in the firehouse. He got the majority of his work done and decided to leave his office to find out what everyone was up to. 

He was not surprised to see them in the common room, but he was shocked to see them all munching on cookies and not just any kind. They were snickerdoodle cookies, and they smelled divine like his mother had just taken them out of the oven with his watchful gaze eyeing every single one. 

"Those smell amazing." Harry was quick to say eagerly, wanting someone to hand him one or five. 

"Home-baked," Sarah calls out through a mouth full of cookies she was chewing.

Harry laughs because he knew that already. He reaches into the box in front of Mitch but is met with a slap on his wrist, and Harry quickly pulls back. 

"Oi, that's not very kind of you, Mitchie." 

Harry crosses his arms over his chest, but Frankie walks by a smaller box in hand, 'Lieutenant' written on top in elegant writing, and shoves it into his chest. He grabs it quickly, not wanting it to fall. 

"Who brought them?" Harry asks because whoever baked something so heavily deserves all the praise, and he is more than ready to give it. 

He opens his box and bites into the still-warm cookie. He holds back a moan, not up for the others teasing, but it truly is the best cookie he has ever eaten. 

"It was the woman from the school fire, the one that approached you in the end," Sarah tells him, her hand reaches for a new cookie. 

Harry frowns; she was here and missed her. No one thought to call him to come out. 

If he is honest, he hasn't been able to get her off his mind. Two short interactions, and it is as if she has put him under a spell. He lets out a low chuckle at the thought.

He always tells others he has no time for a relationship, but the truth is he hopes for love. He just doesn't want it to be one night of passion. He wants endless nights, where it ends cuddling with the same person with constant whispers of I love you. 

He's a hopeless romantic. 

Harry would happily marry this woman. Although trouble does seem to follow her. 

It might not be something he needs in life, especially in his line of work.

Golden's. 

A safe haven. 

A place that feels like home, where firefighters, paramedics, and doctors come for a drink and a good time. The perfect place to come drink away your sorrows with a shoulder to cry on in every corner—the ideal place to celebrate significant accomplishments with the friends that have slowly become your family.

 Esme, a paramedic, and Jorge, a firefighter work at Firehouse 19 with Harry; they are the ones who opened up Golden's three years ago. Esme wanted a place to make creative drinks, and Jorge, well, he loved crunching numbers in his spare time, leading to this bar's birth. 

Hanging on the walls are pictures of all their family and friends. Harry is proud to be displayed on the wall multiple times, and he loves each photo taken. His favorite being one that is hung right under what he calls his table. It's a photo of all of Firehouse 19 after he was made Lieutenant. Everyone in their uniforms dressed to the nines. Chief Rivera had the biggest smile on his face, as did Harry. Everyone around him had cheered for him, and they then all headed to Golden's for a celebration where his mother and sister were among his firehouse family. That picture always brings a smile to his face. 

Harry sits there at his table with Mitch, his best friend, who he met entering the academy from the moment Harry said hello, and Mitch grunted in return he hasn't been able to shake Harry off, but they wouldn't have it any other way. 

Harry has been told he has a lively personality, always conversing with those around him; Mitch was mellow, a wallflower. Mitch came to life around Sarah; Harry joked how he had heart eyes around her. Sarah is a force to be reckoned with. The kindest smile but the highest walls, she dropped them down without a second thought for Mitch, seeing as he was the one to make conversation with her when she was transferred from Station 25. Harry admires her strength and quick thinking. She had a dream of being a doctor but is happy as a paramedic for the time being. 

The fourth seat at their table always remains empty, open to anyone wanting to sit down for a conversation, but never permanent. Harry knows as well as Mitch that it's being saved. Saved for that certain someone to walk into his life.

He's left wondering if he's finally met her. 

Harry spots Esme free and gets up from his table to sit at the bar asking for two beers knowing Mitch will join him. He doesn't try to start a conversation, thoroughly enjoying the buzz of conversation around him and the comfort of Mitch next to him.  

It's been three days since the high school fire and two days since the cookies, and all he can think about is Y/N. If he had to guess she was a teacher, he forgot to ask too focused on the fire yet too stunned to ask her why she was there. She had been quick to have everyone checked for and was most relieved when he confirmed everyone was counted for. 

Harry was sure he'd never see her again, that she'd cross his path, and that was it. No, instead, he sees her less than a week later, but he made no move to ask her out even though he knows she's interested. At least it seems like she was. She didn't have to approach him that second time or send him his own box of cookies. If he were to meet her now, he wouldn't think twice about asking her out but meeting her out while on the job, he wouldn't let her be a distraction. 

"What's got you thinking so hard?" Mitch says, interrupting his internal debate. 

Harry takes a drink of his beer. "Nothing." He sighs. "At least I think it's nothing." 

"That woman from the high school fire." Mitch states. 

Harry chuckles; nothing gets past him. "Yeah, don't know why. She seems to invade my thoughts, and all I know is her name and that accidents happen around her." 

"Maybe she's a firebug," Mitch suggests. 

"She's not an arsonist." Harry nudges Mitch. "Don't joke about that. Her aura's too bright. You saw how she was with the students and teachers." 

Mitch laughs. "Aura, what are you talking about?" 

"Oii, leave me alone. I told you I got into meditating and have been doing lots of reading. Gem sent me this book about seeing and feeling it. Your aura gets brighter around Sarah." 

Mitch's cheeks go red about to respond when his phone rings. "Speaking of." Harry sips his beer as Mitch takes his phone out.

"I'm taking this outside; she's checking in for the night. Letting me know she's alright." Mitch says, finishing off his beer. Sarah was out visiting family for the weekend, and Mitch couldn't join, so Harry was more than happy to keep him company.

Harry raises his hands defensively. "I didn't say anything." 

His eyes follow Mitch outside, watching him hold the door open, phone to his ear when he sees her walk in. She's dressed in skin-tight jeans, hugging her hips nicely. A white silk top and completing the look is a black leather jacket. Harry shits in his seat, she looks fantastic, but he might need a shot or two to get the courage to go over to her. 

Harry downs the two tequila shots Jorge placed in front of him, turning to look back at her when he sees two guys with her. It seems they know her well, standing so close to her. One has a hand on her back, and Harry's confidence deflates. 

She's got a boyfriend, of course, she does. 

The men are good looking Harry hates to admit, he knows he's attractive, but those two might give him a run for his money. They tower over her, like guards protecting a queen. She walks forward, both men trailing behind. She does a quick scan of the room as she approaches the bar, and smirk forms on her face as her eyes meet him for a brief second. 

His view is quickly blocked when a female embraces her in a hug. She pulls back, and Harry is surprised to see that the friend is Frankie. 

Frankie is the candidate he welcomed onto his truck six months ago. Frankie is remarkable, goes after what she wants, and gets along well with everyone. Chief Rivera was impressed from the start, and that's hard to do. 

Harry sits there watching, wondering which one could be her boyfriend. The blonde has a good chance he has his arm thrown over her shoulder casually, but she doesn't lean into him. That makes him smile. Brings back the small confidence he has left. The group laughs at something the redhead said, and she reaches up to kiss the redhead's cheek so it could be him. Harry wants them to come this way and have Frankie introduce them, but they stay far enough where he can't hear their conversation, only her sweet laugh. He looks away but turns once more when he sees movement in the corner of his eye. It's Frankie wrapping her arms around redhead's neck and kissing him on the lips. The blonde has his eyes on someone across the bar, and just like that, Harry can breathe again. Y/N lifts her gaze and catches him staring; she sends him a sly wink before whispering something in Frankie's ear. 

No boyfriend. That's good; it means Harry might have a shot after all. 

He hears Frankie pass behind him, meaning she also passed by. He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. 

He startles when he hears a voice next to him order an old-fashioned. He knows it's her.

"Hey there, Lieutenant" She's leaning against the bar smiling at him. "Frankie was telling me you've never had a woman as a candidate." She says, taking a step forward into his space. Frankie comes behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "She acts all tough, but between you and me, it's all an act." She raises her drink to take a sip. "Just like you." 

"Sorry about her Harry, we don't take her out enough to know how to act around others." Frankie jokes as she walks off with her three beers. 

"Ouch." Y/N laughs as she watches Frankie walk away from them. 

"You're very forward, firebug." Harry comments 

She shrugs. "So I've been told." Y/N pauses acknowledging the nickname. "Did you call me an arsonist?" 

Harry's eyes go wide. How does she know the term? "No, of course not. I know you didn't start those fires, but two run-ins around a fire the nickname is kind of perfect." 

It really is. Harry hopes she agrees. 

"Alright, Styles, I'll accept the term of endearment. As long as I'm the only one." 

"Wouldn't want anyone else," Harry answers truthfully.

She looks him up and down clearly, not hiding she's checking him out. Harry feels confident in his outfit for the evening. He's wearing a vintage 'Enjoy Health, Eat Your Honey' shirt tucked into black flared corduroy jeans. Her gaze stays on his forearms, admiring the tattoos. Her gaze lingers on the mermaid as if she wants to raise her finger and trace around it. 

"So, you've been hiding all that under roughly 45 pounds of gear give or take the weight of items." She tuts, shaking her head. "What a shame." 

"Not like I can do my job without the gear, makes running into a burning building easier." 

"I suppose." Y/N smirks, a glimmer in her eye. "How fast do you have to put on the gear?"  

He narrows his eyes at her, not knowing where she's going with this. "Under two minutes. Gets faster as time goes by." He answers cautiously. 

"Pretty sure, I could undress you in less than that. Leave you in your boxers, or do you prefer briefs." She takes a sip of her whiskey. "Maybe you don't like using it, heard they could be constricting." 

Harry can't help the blush that takes over his cheeks; he's never met someone so forward. He wants to get to know her, and by the looks of it, she feels the same way. 

They stare at each other for a few seconds taking in the other's face. Harry notices the smallest detail, like the small scar close to her eyebrow. He catches the peaking of a tattoo from under her jacket. He's really intrigued now. 

"It's Harry." He says, bringing his hand out to shake, knowing he's never appropriately introduced himself like she has. 

She grabs it and leans in close. "Personally, I like Lieutenant." He shifts slowly, but then she gestures down without breaking eye contact. "Think you do as well."

She finishes her drink and sets it back down. She places a twenty on the counter to cover the cost of her drink and his. "I'll see you around, Lieutenant Harry." 

She's out of sight in the next few seconds. 

He wants her, more than for just a night. Harry wants to be the reason she laughs, the reason she smiles but most importantly, the one she gets to love. He has it bad. He's never met someone so forward and direct with their flirting; he really loved the attention. 

 Now that he knows Frankie has a connection to her, Harry knows he'll see her soon. Who knows when that is. He'll be counting the seconds until then.

Mitch walks in and sits next to Harry, pocketing his phone. "Miss anything interesting?" 

Harry throws his head back and groans. "You have no idea."

Friday's are never the same. Harry feels like he can never prepare for these days. They had just gotten back from a call; it was a kitchen stove fire gone wrong. It was an in and out; a fire extinguisher was really all they needed. The family was very thankful. He was just glad they were smart enough to turn the stove off. 

Harry had just grabbed a seat when the alarm began to ring. He knows everyone is holding back a groan, but it's their job. Sometimes there are either too many breaks or not enough. 

"Pin in accident, Columbus Drive Bridge." 

Harry is quick to dress, finishing first. He taps the side of the truck, "Let's go, let's go!" Everyone picks up the speed, and they are out in seconds. Wilson is not light on the honking, knowing an accident on the bridge is never good. 

"Alright, candidate, remember to walk with a purpose, don't run." Harry begins. 

Frankie nods. "Access the details before you act." She finishes off for him.

"Good." 

The police are on the scene keeping back the curious group of people that have gathered. Harry shakes his head. All people love having a front-row view of accidents. 

The accident looks bad, two cars: one car seems abandoned, a door left wide open. It seems to him that was who caused the accident, good things the police can run their plates. In the second car, the passenger seat door is jammed, there is glass everywhere. There is one person in the driver's seat, a blanket over them.

Harry approaches the vehicle seeing Wilson already assessing the passenger and how best to take them out. 

"Female, mid 20's," Wilson calls out. 

Harry sees her door is jammed in. "We need to pry open her door before getting her out. The hit was all on the passenger side, but please be careful we don't know her injuries." 

Lincoln gets to work, Harry stands to the side, waiting to cut the driver's belt and out of the car.

"She had a blanket over her. The glass missed her face, but one got her abdomen. She's a funny one, taking the pain like a champ. She said she's a nurse so knows it didn't hit an organ." Sarah tells him, as she spoke to her from the back window wanting to best prepare for when they get her on the stretcher. 

"Ma'am, how you doing? We are doing our best to get you out." Harry tells her, seeing the door being removed, quickly moving in to remove her seatbelt, which saved her life. 

"Thought we were on a first-name basis, Lieutenant." She speaks quietly, voice trembly. 

He steps back in shock, seeing her remove the blanket from her face. Her face clean of injury, Stevie Nicks' shirt red and ripped. She's hurt and laughing, but he feels like his heart wants to jump out of his throat.

It's Y/N. 

There's blood, and she's injured, but she's okay.

She's fine. 

She's alive.

He never wants to see her like this again. 

"Took years to find this exact shirt. Got it for a steal at $10." She groans jokingly. "Do you have a remedy to wash out blood?"

"In fact, I do; how about I help you with it once you get these stitches?" Harry tells her, hoping to keep the conversation going, keeps her calm as it is doing for him. 

"Asking me on a date on the job. Not very professional." She teases him.

"How do I know you didn't cause this accident just to see me?" He banters back. 

He has her in his arms, taking her out slowly. She has very few injuries; he's carrying her to the stretcher when he hears her cries. 

"It wasn't my fault you have to know." She cries out. "It was green, it really was, I promise. There are traffic cameras here, so check. I waited a few seconds then went and next thing I know I have the blanket over me. I've got quick reflects." She smiles slightly at the thought. "A nice lady told me help was on the way." Harry wipes her tears away. "I was on my way to the grocery store. Annie, my neighbor, wanted brownies, and I told her I would run to the store to get the items. She's going to be so upset." 

"Not your fault, I believe you. Everyone here does." His heart is breaking. She doesn't deserve to feel this, especially when the other driver got away scratch-free, it seems. 

"I'm the safest driver out there. I've never gotten a ticket, not even a parking one. When I took my driving test, I passed with zero errors. They said it hasn't happened in years." She groans as they load her into the ambulance. 

"I believe you. Your insurance must love you." He comments, getting a small laugh out of her. 

"Tell Frankie to send me flowers. I don't like coming home to no flowers." 

Esme slams the door shut, and off they go. 

He knows Frankie saw and heard; he knows Chief is with her. As good as one is doing their job, once family is involved, it's quick to lose one's focus. Harry knows he has to check on her once they are back at the station. He's going to encourage her to see her friend, not having to worry about the end of the shift because when it comes to family, that is their priority. 

Harry knows Mitch is watching him like a hawk, waiting for him to give him any kind of sign he's not okay, but he knows better. He's not allowed to break down in front of his crew. Not something he lets himself do. 

Instead, he does what he knows best. He gives orders.  

"Pack up back to the station."

Just like that, they begin to load up the truck, everything in their rightful place, but all he can think about is Y/N and if she truly is going to be okay. 

Harry is pacing outside her door. 

Yes, he got her address. He had to know how she was doing. Frankie was kind enough to give it to him, not without a few warnings. As in if he did anything to upset her, she knew how to handle a halligan. Harry dares not to cross her. He, after all, has only honorable intentions for Y/N.

He takes a deep breath before raising his hand and knocking three times. He quickly takes a step back, not wanting to be too close when she opens the door if she opens the door. 

It swings open, and there she stands in an oversized t-shirt and grey joggers. "I have been wondering when you would show." She grins at him. 

Harry's eyes widened. "You knew I was coming?"

She nods. "Of course, Frankie had to make sure it was okay to give my address to a man I've only had one proper conversation with." 

"It was two, really." Harry jokes. 

"Two then." She smiles down at her feet, starting to feel bashful under his watchful gaze. That is when her eyes catch sight of the gift in his hands. 

"You brought me flowers." She exclaims, reaching for the pink peonies, and he quickly extends his hand for her to take them.

"Wasn't sure your favorite. These reminded me of you and how beautiful you are." He shares, feeling his cheeks heat up, running a hand on the back of his neck, wanting her to say something and save himself from embarrassment. 

"Thank you." She sniffs them. "I've always loved peonies, don't think I've ever been gifted them before." She moves to the side and gestures him to come in.

"Would you like something to drink? I would have offered you food, but I didn't cook tonight; Frankie dropped off Chinese for one." She gives him a small smile to make up for it.

"It's no problem; after the day you had, my well being is not of your concern," Harry tells her, happy to accept the water she handed him.

"See, you're wrong, Styles." Harry frowns, meeting her eyes as she continues on. "You have a dangerous job, so I feel I do have a right to worry about you." 

"Fair enough." 

Harry sips his water, and she does the same. He assumes she's trying to collect her thoughts. That is what he's trying to do. 

He loses his train of thought as he begins to take in the yellow-painted cabinets; the hue holds a softness that allows them to stretch from floor to ceiling without feeling overwhelming. Brown granite countertops and hardwood floors temper the yellow; the bronze hardware marries the two colors. He's never felt so calm and safe in a kitchen. 

Back to his thinking, a good reason to tell her why he came to visit her because indeed she'll have to ask.  

It could be his crush on her, a growing infatuation. At this point, it might be like already. 

One goal before he leaves her house is well-- to have asked her on a date. 

Harry's train of thought is broken as she begins to speak.

"I want to apologize for breaking down in your arms. That wasn't right of me." 

Harry scoots closer, placing a ringed hand on top of hers, resting on the counter; this causes her to look up at him. "Hey firebug, no need to apologize. It was a tough situation. The crew said you handled it really well." He smiles and gives her hand a squeeze. "I'm happy you're okay." 

She nods and lets his words hang in the air for a minute. "I made brownies, and Annie helped me. She did the heavy lifting today. Do you want some?"

Harry knows she changed topics because she felt overwhelmed, and he was happy to follow her lead. "I'd love to try these brownies. If they were as good as your cookies, then I might just eat them all." 

A huge grin takes over her face at his confession; he accomplished exactly what he was looking for. 

"You loved the cookies?" She asks. 

"Loved honestly might have shed a tear when I ate the last one. Your cookies are what I assume they give to eat in heaven." He jokes but very much meaning each word.

"Thank you, I'll be sure to take more down to the station soon." Y/N blushes looking away from Harry's piercing gaze. 

"You know, I didn't even ask you how you're doing." Harry laughs, forgetting the reason he came over.

She laughs with him. "I did as well; if you'd ask me, it feels like a regular date night." 

Y/N doesn't blush at her words, but Harry sure does. "Date night, huh." She nods. "I'd be up for more nights like this." 

"Good to know." 

They stare at each other for a few seconds taking in each other's smile and how easy it is together. 

"Back to your original question, I'm doing good. Only needed five stitches and should heal up nicely." She puts her hand over her injury as if remembering the pain. 

"Well, I'm glad you're well. I'm a phone call away if you ever need anything." 

She all but glows at his words. "I'll keep that in mind." 

After a while, Harry helps her move over to the couch, wanting her to be comfortable. He fixes her pillows a few times, wanting her to not feel any kind of pain. Y/N just basks in the attention; it's not everyday she has a firefighter fawning over her. 

Time with Y/N seems to fly by because the next time his eyes catch sight of the time, it's nearing nine pm. He can tell she's knackered, but he and neither she sees an end in their conversation. It just flows so easy and who are they to try to stop it. 

Harry is learning about why she moved to the city and how she has an interview next week for the pediatrics department at Med. Also, she was at the school because she volunteers weekly; Miss Lucy is a teacher Y/N went to uni with and likes doing fun activities with the nine-year-old. 

Harry truly doesn't understand how she has so much to give to others, but he's glad to be receiving some of it as well. He hopes to give her back half of what she gives to others. 

"I've always seemed to find myself in trouble. Never the cause of it, but it's always around. I always thought it was me, and it seems to be true." Y/N shares with him. She has struggled with growing up; she may have many friends, but she doesn't stay in a place long enough to make herself feel at home, but so far, it has been different. 

Harry sees how much her words hurt to say. He leans over and grabs her hand. He squeezes it tightly before intertwining their fingers together. He really loves holding her hand, and he hopes she continues to allow him to do so. 

"Where angels go, trouble follows." Harry breathes out, never breaking eye contact with her. It takes every fiber in his body not to reach over and plant his lips on hers. He so badly wants her to believe his words because he knows he does. 

She truly is an angel from above, and he is lucky enough to be welcomed into her life. 

Y/N feels her cheeks heat up but never breaks eye contact with Harry. 

They fall silent, basking in what seems to be their final moments together for the night. 

"I should really get going, poppet. Got to let you get your rest." She nods and lets him help her up so she can walk him to the door. 

"Do you believe in faith?" She asks as they stand outside the door. 

He shrugs. "I never believed in all of that stuff, but in a matter of a few weeks, I've run into you four times, and I wouldn't leave that up to luck. I thank whatever brought us together and that they'll keep us together."

"I like that a lot."

He kisses her cheek softly. "As soon as those stitches are out, will you let me take you out on a date?" 

"I'd prefer something sooner, but I can wait." She teases.

Harry nods; he feels like he does a lot of blushing around her. He really enjoys how she makes him feel. 

"I'll check in tomorrow." He promises. 

"Just so you know, if I need anything, I won't be calling for firehouse 51." He stops. "I'll be calling this guy that has a thing for me that runs into burning buildings for a living."

"Any time of the day, I promise I'll answer the call, poppet." 

He had just put his seatbelt on when his phone began to ring. Harry picks it up, never breaking eye contact with her. 

"Lieutenant, I need some help. See, I was in an accident today, and I know it might seem a little strange, maybe a bit forward." She bits her lip, not yet breaking the intense eye contact. "I could really use a cuddle to feel better. Do you know anyone that can help out with that?" 

Harry shakes his head at her but nonetheless shoots her a dimpled smile. He jumps out of his car and strolls up to her—phone in hand, beautiful smile on her face.

"I would be honored." He leans in and connects his lips to her cheek; he lets it linger for a few seconds before pulling away. "Now, let's get you in bed. I heard from a little birdie you don't kiss before a first date, so the sooner you heal, the better." 

Y/N lets out a small groan at Frankie. "Maybe I can make an exception." 

Harry doesn't hide the surprise on his face at her words. "You certainly will make life more interesting." 

She giggles as she leads him to her room, Harry following closely behind.

Harry knows they were meant to walk into each other's life. The feelings he is starting to feel for her something he has never felt before. 

Call him cliche, but a never-ending spark has been ignited. 

thank you so much for reading! i love you

come chat trouble follows with me

taglist: @bigspoonstyles​ @taintedwonder​ @sunflowersupremacy​

[infernal-fire]

Just The Benefits (1/2)

Pairings: dark!Steve x you

Warnings: smut, slight overstimulation, dark!Steve, dark!Nomad!Steve

Later in the series: noncon, breeding kink, slight degradation kink, slight praise kink, mentioned dark!Tony, dark!Bucky

Please do not interact with this blog if you are under 18. Your media consumption is your responsibility. 

Summary: Y/N wanted the benefits and nothing more. That was the agreement… right? Steve decides it’s not enough.

Word Count: 1600

A/N: This is my first ever fic! I’m really hoping you’ll enjoy this but I also appreciate all feedback <3 I’m planning a second instalment for the fic, which will be longer than this one. I’m out here pretending like someone is going to read this. 

Nomad!Steve is the most attractive Steve and you can talk to a wall if you disagree. 

(This GIF does not belong to me)

It was convenient. The idea of no strings attached was that it was always supposed to be easy and mutually beneficial. You were enjoying the life of an Avenger and there’s no need to add anything to the mix. 

That’s how you found yourself under Steve’s mercy every week. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel anything for him but right now, all you could think about was making sure you didn’t tap out from his girth. 

You were bent over his king-size bed, stuffed full of his cock. He cooed praises into your ears and took on a languid pace. He pressed your head down with one arm, wiping your tears on the sheets, wrapping the other around your waist. His cock was moving in and out of you like a piston, making a squelching noise that your loud moaning drowned out. 

“Sweetheart, I’m going to speed up” he moaned, and you whimpered in response. His speed had you lurching forward on every thrust, the room reverberating with the sound of skin slapping. 

His cock repeatedly battered your cervix, which was becoming more sensitive by the second. You cried out as your eyes crossed and your muscles went limp, the crashing waves of your orgasm possessing you. 

“That’s it, baby, cream my cock. I’m so close.” his grunts filled your ears as he leaned over you. The hand that was holding your head made its way to your neck and he pulled you up flush against him while the other hand began toying with your engorged clit. You were full-on crying from the overstimulation now; he hadn’t slowed down since you came. You were on your tippy-toes, trying to alleviate the pressure on your abused cunt. 

After a few more thrusts, he pushed in one last time and squeezed your body before giving you some experimental thrusts. He pulled out and held your almost-passed-out frame by the hips and lifted you onto the bed. 

“Jesus Y/N was I too rough?” You weakly shook your head as you closed your eyes and held his hand. He tucked you into his sheets, tossed the condom across the room and rounded the bed, settling beside you. 

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you mumbled. 

He paused as if he were pondering what he was going to say. In reality, he began taking in your naked, tired form that looked unreal yet ethereal on his bed. With your back to Steve, you had no idea he was feasting on the sight in front of him. 

“What is it?” the slight raspiness of your voice alluded to your exhaustion. 

“I don’t want to be friends with benefits anymore.”

You turned around to face him and propped yourself up on your elbow. The surprise of his statement was overriding your body’s pleas to sleep.

“Did I… do something?” You were honestly unsure of what to say.

He paused again. “It’s not enough for me. I know we came into this saying no strings attached but I care way too much for you.”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting but it certainly wasn’t that. Steve took your silence as a cue to continue. 

“I think I love you. No, I-I know I love you. I want the whole thing with you, not just sex. I’m tired of pretending I’m okay with just sex. You know, I had feelings for you before you agreed to this. I had a feeling you might not say yes to a serious relationship so I proposed this arrangement.”

His speech initially started with uncertainty but as he spoke, he became sure of himself. He was sure you would agree. You two were perfect together and there was no denying it in Steve’s mind. 

You got out of bed and began rummaging through the clothes strewn on the ground.

“I cannot believe you asked me to do this with your feelings involved. That was very manipulative and…” you trailed off. Did you want this? No. He messed with you. You affirmed it to yourself and picked up the rest of your clothes. “You were manipulative and this isn’t going to happen anymore. I told you I didn’t want a relationship to cloud my judgement with my missions.” 

“Where are you going?” he began getting out bed, panic slightly evident in his voice.

You weren’t going to cry. But you were slightly hurt that he had a hidden agenda and that you were too stupid to not notice it. You turned to leave before he gripped your forearm. 

“I know you’re angry, but you want this too.” He towered over you. The unexpected calm in his voice was unsettling. 

“You’re scaring me, please let go.” He let you break out of his hold. 

“FRIDAY, lock my doors and don’t open unless I say so,” he commanded.

He was beginning to chip at your resolve but you were determined to not show it. You glared at him again instead. 

“FRIDAY, contact Tony and tell him Cap locked me in his room.”

He stared at you and stared back. Under the façade of toughness, you were crumbling and scared out of your mind. You didn’t want to stay and find out why he locked the door. What could he do when the entire team would question your whereabouts the next day?

The seconds stretched on before he finally spoke again. “You’re making a mistake. You want this.”

“Tony has overridden your request, Steve. Y/N, the door is now unlocked.” FRIDAY called out. 

You turned and speed-walked out of the room, not turning back to look at Steve who was now lowly chuckling to himself. 

He wondered if you really thought this was the end of this conversation. 

You turned to your missions to help you cope with the loss of one of your best friendships. You give men a little bit of space in your life and they think you owe them the world. Worst of all, you should’ve seen this coming. Little touches, smiles that always reached his eyes and hugs that lasted a little longer they should. Not mentioning walking you to your room after training, making your breakfast and taking special care of you after a particularly difficult mission. You were truly a fool for not realizing it sooner.

Everyone is scared of something, even the Avengers. For you, it was this new side of Steve. You weren’t even sure how to act around him anymore. The relationship was on the low and not many people knew about it; Bucky knew for sure, and now, Tony must have an idea as well. Tony didn’t ask you why Cap locked you in your room. That should have been the first red flag that your teammates weren’t on your side. 

You proceeded as if things were normal around Steve and he did too. There was no reason not to, right? He just acted out because of the rejection, you thought to yourself.

All the Avengers sitting down for dinner was a rare occurrence, but this particular Friday, there was a crowd in the dining room of the compound. 

You were happy today. Your paperwork had been a breeze and you had a good weekend planned for yourself. Around the table, Tony, Rhodey, Thor were bickering, Clint and Nat were silently observing while Steve and Bucky were engrossed in a private conversation of their own. 

“After dinner, we should play a game” Sam piped up through a mouthful. Clint snickered to himself and Sam continued.

“I’m serious, we should play truth or dare… something like that. I barely know anything about you guys, minus things like your favourite way to take a target out.”

“I think it should stay that way” Nat slightly grinned and continued eating. 

“Honestly, I agree, I feel like I know nothing about you guys,” you commented, wiping your mouth and clearing your empty plate. Tony grabbed it for you and made his way to the sink. “I wasn’t aware that we were in high school. But tell you what; hide and seek would be interesting with this crowd.” Tony contemplated before finishing his thought: “Barnes and Romanoff should try to find us. That would be a kicker.”

“That sounds a lot better than truth or dare. I’m game” Nat said before getting and stretching. Bucky quietly chuckled and everyone began to clean up the table. 

“So this is really happening?” Rhodey laughed as everyone made their way to the living room. 

Bucky and Nat stood in front of everyone and negotiated rules. You smiled to yourself, thinking about how blessed you were to be a part of something so amazing.

“Okay then, 5 minutes to hide and 30 minutes to be found. If you’re found you have to do their paperwork for a week.” Clint finalized and everyone nodded.

“Alright, off you go,” Nat said before settling into a couch, observing everyone that scrambled off. 

Thor looked lost, unsure where to go. He rarely stayed at the compound. You pointed him in the direction of the gym before racing past and making your way to your spot. There was a supply closet that you had a feeling Nat wouldn’t bother checking. Bucky knew of it, but you had a back-up escape route in mind if he decided to look there. You got to the closet and silently slipped in before sliding the door closed and settling into the corner. After a few minutes, you heard light footsteps that became louder. It hadn’t been 5 minutes yet. Whoever was coming to your spot, you were prepared to tell them to buzz off before the closet door opened to reveal Steve. 

He stepped in and closed the door behind him.

Part 2

Masterlist

Tagging some people I want to be friends with 🥺

@smutsonian @imanuglywombat @nastybuckybarnes @candy-and-writing @speechlessxx @mariessecretfantasies​ @mypoisonedvine​ @harryspet​ @nsfwsebbie​ @cherienymphe​ @imdarkinme​ @ironlady1993​ @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​ @sherrybaby14​ @mcudarklibrary​