#tried to tap into my teen brain .

[marklikely]

just remembered when i WILLINGLY let myself get qbaited by the wolf show 🤧

[stevie-petey]

episode nine: the fall

You shake your head at the teen in disappointment. “Never thought I’d have to say this, but please stop licking your sweater, Steve.” He puts his hands up in surrender, albeit with a slight scoff. “Sue a man for not wasting food.”

Summary: surprise ! life still carries on even with minor brain damage from constant concussions :( on the bright side, you and the gang all become homies. meanwhile, steve grapples with the warm fuzzies and parental issues before his worst nightmare happens: you meet robin. the horrors !

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, swearing, mentions of wounds

Words: 9.1k

Before you swing in: this is it !!! last official chapter of season 2 :) this chapter is pure fluff yall. just 9k words of utter disgusting bug n steve, so i hope it makes up for how long it took for them to get to this point lmao. enjoy !

-

True to your promise with Jonathan, nothing necessarily changes between the two of you; things just shift. You stop being so tactile with him out of respect for Nancy, now only reaching for his hand for comfort rather than to have him so near. It takes some trial and error, but eventually the two of you manage to strike up a good balance.

You still spend most of your days either together at his house or yours. Only now, Nancy accompanies you, and it’s lovely.

“Dustin told me that Steve practically drooled over you last night before the Snowball.” Jonathan teases you, hunched over his kitchen table scribbling a half-assed essay that’s already a day late.

Nancy giggles as you throw your pencil at the boy. “That did not happen, mind your own business.”

“I don’t know, Y/N. He kept staring at you today during lunch.” Nancy slides over her paper and taps her pencil on a particular problem she’s stuck on. She’s still getting used to talking about this with you, but she pushes aside her unease and tries anyway. “Do you know the answer for number five?”

Her words cause you to blush, your mind still reeling from your conversation with Steve last night. You told him you’d wait for him, and he looked at you as if you’d promised him the world and more. Then, today at lunch, Steve had boldly found you sitting with Nancy and Jonathan outside and joined.

It was a welcome change, and he sat so close to you that your thighs pressed together underneath the picnic bench you’d been eating at.

“He wasn’t staring at me,” you mumble, embarrassed and still feeling his weight pressed against you, before sliding your paper over to Nancy. “And I got Henry Ford.”

Frowning, Nancy erases her answer. “That makes no sense.”

“My answer or Steve not staring at me?”

“Both.” Nancy and Jonathan say at the same time.

You throw another pencil at Jonathan. “I wasn’t talking to you, write your late essay.”

He ducks, “Would you stop?”

“Not unless you stop speaking.”

“This is my house, bug–”

“And I can call your mom right now and she’d let me stay.” You cross your arms at Jonathan, knowing you’ve already won the argument. “Any more complaints?”

Jonathan goes back to writing his essay, grumbling under his breath about how you can’t keep pulling the mom card, and you giggle at his anger alongside Nancy. He’s the one who wanted the two of you to get along, he should’ve known that you and Nancy would just make his life miserable.

The three of you go back to working quietly at the table, you and Nancy occasionally asking each other for help on certain questions, while Jonathan grows more and more frustrated by his essay. After he’s angrily scribbled out his fifth line, Nancy snatches the paper from him and points towards the back door.

“Out,” she tells him.

Jonathan blinks. “What?”

“Go outside, take a small walk, and calm down. You’re frustrated and won’t get anywhere if you keep this up.”

They stare at each other, Nancy silently daring him to argue with her, and you watch in amusement. She has him wrapped around her finger, and after only a few seconds, Jonathan sighs and gets up from the kitchen table. “I’m doing this because I want to, alright?”

You snort. “Sure, buddy.”

He gives you the finger, presses a kiss to Nancy’s forehead, and then grabs a coat to go outside.

Once he’s gone, Nancy turns to you and sets down her pencil. “So, how long are you planning on pretending that Steve doesn’t like you?”

You whip your head up, dropping your pencil in the process, startled by her forward question. “I’m sorry?”

“You heard me.”

“I…” Though you’ve slowly gotten used to Nancy being with Jonathan, it still feels too soon to talk to her about Steve, even if she’s given you her blessing. It feels too raw, too inappropriate, to discuss it with her. “I don’t think we should talk about this–”

“C’mon, Y/N. It’s obvious he at least feels something for you, and if anyone deserves Steve, it’s you.” Nancy gently takes your hand, her voice sincere. “He came outside for lunch looking for you today, he drove you to the Snowball, he’s been visiting you at work ever since you smiled at him last year.”

You look away from her. “It’s… complicated.”

“It’s not…” Nancy swallows, clears her throat, and looks away as well. It still has taken her time to adjust to the shift between the four of you, to finally understand that it’s now okay to talk about these things with one another. “It’s not because of me, right?”

A beat of silence passes, and when you don’t say anything, Nancy sighs. “Shit.”

“He’s still healing, Nance.” You admit, feeling bad for bringing this upon her. You don’t want her to feel responsible for any of it, it’s not her fault that the boys you’ve loved have loved her first. The wound of it has healed now, though the scar that it has left will never fade.

You both know this, neither one of you want to admit it to the other.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” She shakes her head, the familiar guilt of somehow always the one hurting you clawing at her. “I wish things had been different between me and him.”

You shrug, you don’t see any reason to blame her. “I don’t.”

“You don’t what?”

“I don’t wish things had been different between the two of you,” you admit, knowing how bizarre it may sound. When Nancy raises her eyebrows, you’re quick to explain. “What I mean is, if Steve had never been with you, who knows who he’d be now? Or if Jonathan had never been my best friend, would you still have found each other?”

Nancy bites her lip, still unconvinced. “I don’t know, Y/N…”

“I think, truthfully, that we all unwound with who we were supposed to.” You’re not sure how to explain this, to express your unusual way of viewing such complex situations. “Without our histories, without being so intertwined with one another, I don’t think we ever would’ve unwound how we were supposed to. Does that make sense?”

“I think so,” Nancy nods, although hesitant. “And Steve is still… Unwinding from me?”

You cringe, knowing how silly it all sounds. “I know it sounds dumb, but he is, and while I’m not saying he doesn’t like me… I told him to take his time.”

“You’d really wait for him?”

“I would.”

Nancy sighs and goes back to her assignment, continuously amazed by your selflessness. “You’re too good.”

You shrug again, now used to being told this by others. It doesn’t bother you like it used to, you’ve come to view your kindness as something wholly yours and no one else’s to understand. It took so much violence to become so kind, and you will never, ever apologize for it now. “It adds to my charm.”

Jonathan walks back in right as Nancy bursts into loud laughter, you do as well, the remaining tension between you and her now gone. He sees the way she clutches her stomach and how you have to grab onto the table so you don’t fall over as you laugh. “Did I miss something?”

You wipe at your eyes, still giggling. “No, bee. Sit down and do your work.”

“Yeah,” Nancy giggles again, feeling breathless. “What Y/N said.”

“You two are the worst.” Jonathan slumps in his seat and goes back to his essay.

“You love us,” you tease, knowing that he hasn’t told Nancy this yet.

He smiles shyly and avoids Nancy’s eye. “Yeah, I do.”

They both blush and there’s a childish energy to them, shy and soft and sweet. You watch them with a warm smile, endlessly happy for them both; they’re sweet to watch, still shy around one another.

As you watch Jonathan and Nancy giggle softly as they help each other with their assignments, looking over at you for help as well, you know that junior year is finally starting to look up.

–

Steve continues to join you, Jonathan, and Nancy for lunch. He makes himself a permanent seat next to you, never once straying far from your side, and eventually he even ends up back in the library with the three of you.

It’s reminiscent of your sophomore year, back when you’d just defeated the Demogorgon and Nancy had gone back to Steve. For a brief few months, you’d all study in the library together and formed your own nice, albeit tense, group.

Then lines and threads became tangled and unspoken feelings became harsh actions.

Now, Nancy and Jonathan are whispering about something, off in their own world, and you’re currently helping Steve with an English assignment.

It’s the last day before winter break, so it’s hard getting him to pay attention to what you’re saying. All he can focus on is the way you’ve pinned your hair up, some pieces of hair falling over your face, and how you look so lovely in your white sweater.

“Are you listening to me?” You ask him, narrowing your eyes.

Steve coughs, knowing he’s been caught. “Yeah, totally.”

“Okay,” you cross your arms and lean back in your seat, distancing yourself from the boy, which only makes him frown. “What did I just say, then?”

“C’mere,” he huffs at you, tugging at your chair so that you’re now pressed flush against him; just the way he likes it. You blush, your stomach flutters wildly at the idea that he can’t be more than five inches away from you. Steve sees this, sends you a wink, and tries to use this to his advantage. “We both know I wasn’t listening, angel.”

Angel.

It’s become his new name for you, though he hasn’t said it since the night of the Snowball; the name drips from his lips as if saturated in sunlight. Although you want to litter his face with kisses and call him lovely and handsome and wonderful, you know that in this instance, Steve has only used the nickname to get on your good side.

And two can play that game.

“I don’t know, honey.” You lean in closer to Steve, angling your head so that you look up at him while you use your own name for him. His breath always hitches when you look up at him like this, when you call him honey again for the first time all sweet and soft. “I was hoping you’d been listening.”

Steve gulps, he’s still not used to the way your voice dips low when you want his attention. How when you call him honey he swears he can taste the residue of it in his mouth. He leans closer as well, your faces inches apart, and he’s forgotten what the two of you are even talking about. “I–I’m sorry?”

As soon as he’s apologized, you pull yourself away, just before Steve’s lips land on yours, and go back to the English assignment. You’re immensely pleased with yourself, especially when Steve almost face plants against the library table when you suddenly move away. “Apology accepted! Now, let’s go back to Shakespeare, shall we?”

Steve’s jaw drops, only now realizing that he’s been tricked. “Oh, that was evil, Y/N.”

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game.” You wink at him, and Steve has never wanted to kiss a smirk off of someone’s face more.

He’s addicted to it, honestly.

Later that day, once school has let out, Steve drives you to work. This was another shift that came with Jonathan and Nancy getting together. While your best friend still drives you to school, it’s now Steve who drives you to work and picks you up.

He enjoys spending the time with you, having you all to himself during the simple ten minute drive to Bookstrordinary. The two of you rarely say much during these drives, and it’s everything Steve could ask for and more; he simply has you with him, nothing else needs to be said or done.

Mrs. Waters greets him with a knowing smile, the woman has become more invested in Steve’s infatuation with you than even your mother. “Hello, young man.”

“Hi, Mrs. Waters.” Steve gives her a wave and walks over to his usual station: behind the counter, waiting for you.

You give your boss a quick hug and clock in. “Any new shipments today?”

“All the new books are in the back, so make sure your handsome man does all the heavy lifting, sweetie.” Mrs. Waters giggles at her own words before she slowly makes her way into her office.

“Well,” you nudge Steve. “You heard the woman, you’re a handsome man. Go do the heavy lifting.”

The compliment, though indirect, still rolls over Steve in slow, warm waves. He smiles bashfully at you. “Handsome, huh?”

“Oh, don’t pretend as if you didn’t know.” You flick his nose and walk over to the back door to start retrieving the new shipment. “Seriously, though. Could you help me with these boxes?”

Steve is quick to run over and help, he will always be happy to help you, but before he picks up a box, a thought occurs to him. Leaning against the doorframe, he smirks at you. “I’ll help, after you explain to me that little stunt you pulled earlier in the library.”

“What stunt?” A huff escapes you as you try to pick up a box, but Mrs. Waters had been right. The shipment is heavy, and Steve is currently useless.

“The whole ‘honey’ thing.”

You look up at Steve, knowing exactly what he’s asking, but you toy with him anyways. “Only if you explain the whole ‘angel’ thing.”

“C’mon, Y/N.” He groans, annoyed that you’re so good at dodging all of his questions. He doesn’t know what makes you Hendersons so great at deception, but it’s a terrifying thing to witness. “You’re an angel, it’s a fitting name for you.”

Though you’d been expecting him to say this, hearing Steve’s explanation still causes you to blush. Normally it bothers you when people call you an angel and act as if you’re some person above everyone else, but with Steve you know that he means it so genuinely. To him, you’re an angel because he knows you so well.

He doesn’t view you as this innocent creature that can do no wrong; Steve knows how you came to be, he knows the anger you once held, and it’s because of this that he has come to view you as angelic. It takes a lot for someone to become kind again, and Steve knows this better than anyone else.

“You’re sweet honey,” you finally respond, your face still warm from the vulnerability. You want to try for him, become okay with the feeling of being seen. “You asked for a nickname, and that’s what I’ve landed on. Any more questions?”

Steve practically melts against the doorway, and you almost giggle at the sight. “I’m honey?”

“Mhm, sweet honey, but honey sounds less dramatic.”

He laughs, his head is spinning and he’s so enamored with you. “Okay, I like that, but can I ask one more question before I agree to helping you?”

You roll your eyes but nod, secretly enjoying this moment with him. “Ask away.”

“Why honey? Not that I’m complaining, but…” Steve shrugs. “Not so creative.”

You gasp, “Are you saying you don’t accept my nickname for you?”

“No! I–” Steve frantically tries to correct what he’s said, but you grab his hand to calm him down.

“Relax, Steve. I was teasing,” you give his hand a squeeze, his fingers are strong against yours, and take a deep breath. The explanation is more intimate than you’d like, but he deserves to know. “Did you know that honey can be used to treat wounds?”

Steve shakes his head, silent as he listens.

“It’s a natural remedy, an unsuspecting cure, disguised as something only sweet.” You’re suddenly shy again, but you offer Steve more of yourself because you can; because he’s here, all warmth and love and summer. He’s healed wounds within you that you hadn’t known existed until you noticed their scars fading—cuts that have littered your skin from abandonment, guilt, and love. “When I was young, my dad would take me to this local farm on my birthday every summer and he would buy me honey. We’d use it to make sweet tea.”

You pause, the memory practically on your tongue as you remember the taste of the local farmer’s honey and how it would drizzle, slow and smooth, into your sweet tea. You remember your father’s laugh, how he would boast to the entire town that his sweet tea could win awards. “I never really liked tea, but my dad’s sweet tea was amazing.”

The honey had been his secret ingredient.

Steve is quiet after you’ve finished your story. He takes his time responding, he allows the story you’ve told to sink in, he rolls it around in his head, memorizes its details. He knows that you don’t like talking about your father, and the fact that you’ve shared a happy memory about him with Steve…

“Thank you,” he says. There’s a weight behind his thanks, he knows he will never be able to put into words how much this means to him. He tries, though, and pours every truth that he can into his words, “I love the nickname.”

The two of you begin unpacking the new shipment of books after that, working silently side by side.

It’s a lovely summer day within Bookstrordinary, even though it’s the middle of winter in Hawkins.

–

This Christmas Eve, you have your entire kitchen on lockdown. No one is allowed to come in, all food and drinks have been thrown onto the dining room table for others to use. Your hair is tied up, your apron is on, and you’ve banished Dustin from even looking at you.

“This is excessive, even for you.” Dustin scoffs from the living room, annoyed that he can’t even sit at the counter and watch.

You’ve just preheated the oven and are now whisking your dry ingredients together for Mike’s favorite brownies. There’s a rack of Will’s oatmeal raisin cookies on the counter cooling off, alongside Mrs. Wheeler’s sugar cookies she loves. “You lost your baking privileges when you mixed up the salt and sugar last year. Those gingerbread cookies were awful.”

“They’re both white! How was I supposed to know?”

“Stop talking and leave,” you point towards the living room with your whisk and some powder flies out of the bowl in the process.

Dustin tries to argue, but then the doorbell rings and he immediately breaks out into a shit eating grin. “Perfect timing.”

“What–” You try to question what your brother is up to, but he’s already run to answer the door. Sighing, you slowly mix in your wet ingredients and mumble to yourself, “I hate him. I really do.”

“Who do we hate?” Steve slides into the kitchen, not a care in the world, and slides right into Jonathan’s peanut butter cups. “Shit!”

“Steve!” You quickly catch the desserts, barely able to hold onto the bowl of brownie batter in your hands. Once the crisis is averted, you turn to Steve and begin hitting him with your batter covered whisk, effectively ruining his sweater. “What are you doing here?”

“I invited him!” Dustin now slides into the kitchen as well, a gleeful look in his eyes.

Meanwhile, Steve looks down at the batter he’s covered in and scraps some off with his finger before bringing it to his mouth. He hums, nods appreciatively, and smacks his lips. “Ya know, why haven’t I had this before?”

“The brownies are for Mike.” Dustin says, sneakily popping a peanut butter cup into his mouth.

“Wheeler should share, this batter is delicious.” Steve licks some more off of his sweater and you and Dustin cringe at him. When he sees this, he simply shrugs at you both. “What? My sweater is clean.”

You shake your head at the teen in disappointment. “Never thought I’d have to say this, but please stop licking your sweater, Steve.”

He puts his hands up in surrender, albeit with a slight scoff. “Sue a man for not wasting food.”

You blow a piece of hair out of your face and go back to the batter. “Again I ask: what are you doing here?”

“Like the kid said, he invited me.” Steve points to Dustin, who sends you a thumbs up. “Didn’t know I’d be walking into a war zone, though.”

“It’s Christmas Eve,” you say, as if this is all the explanation he needs. When Steve only tilts his head at you in confusion, you huff and put down your bowl so you can quickly explain. “I bake everyone their favorite desserts for Christmas, and normally it’s fine. However, now I have Max, Nancy, Hopper, and El to add to my baking list and I…”

You stumble, now suddenly feeling the effects of baking all day catching up to you. You’re slightly woozy, you can’t remember if you had lunch today. “I’m doing great, honestly.”

“She’s going insane.” Dustin loudly whispers to Steve, his fingers circling around his head in a “crazy” motion.

Steve ignores the boy and stands next to you, placing a hand to the small of your back and leans over your shoulder, allowing you to lean back against him. It’s a simple gesture, and you melt immediately against him. “Give me a bowl and recipe, angel. I’ll help you bake.”

You reluctantly move away from Steve and quickly find a piece of paper and a pen to scribble the recipe for Nancy’s chocolate chip cookies. It’s an easy enough recipe, you trust that Steve can handle the basics.

As you hand the recipe to him, Dustin’s jaw drops. “What, no fair! Why can’t I help bake?”

“Salt and sugar, Dustin. Salt and sugar.”

Steve gathers the ingredients he needs. “Do you have a spare apron?”

“I mean, sure,” you show him where one hangs next to the doorway. “But you’re already covered in brownie batter, so I’m not sure why you need one now.”

“Wanna match with you,” Steve quickly ties the strings around his waist, the apron is far too small on him and it makes you giggle.

Dustin, now very much third wheeling, throws his hands up in the air and marches out of the room. “You two are disgusting, ya know that?”

“Love you too!” You call after the boy, who responds by marching even louder towards his room.

With your brother gone and with Steve’s help, you manage to get through the rest of your baking list in no time. While you hadn’t expected Steve to necessarily fail in the kitchen, you were also pleasantly surprised by how comfortable he seemed to be while helping you bake.

“How’d you get so good at measuring sugar?”

Steve doesn’t look up from his measuring cup, too focused on the task at hand as he carefully counts out how many cups he will need. “My mom.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, not having expected the answer. He never really brought his parents up, something that you’ve noticed but never touched on with him. You figured it was like your father, never wanting to talk about someone who has hurt you.

Hesitantly, you try to learn more. “Does she bake with you a lot?”

“She used to,” Steve counts his third cup and mixes it into the bowl, now working on Max’s coconut bites. “Back when I was little, we used to bake her banana bread together all the time.”

His voice is light, the conversation isn’t a painful one for Steve, so you decide it’s safe to press further. “Well, if you can remember the recipe, I’m sure we can bake it today.”

Steve looks up at you, eyes wide. “You mean it?”

“Of course I mean it, dummy.” The way he’s looking at you with such genuine enthusiasm makes your heart hurt; he’s surprised you’ve offered him kindness. “I was going to bake you those caramel banana cookies, so I have some ripe bananas anyways–”

You’re cut off by Steve’s arms wrapping around you. He holds you tight, and he smells of sugar and cinnamon; it’s an addicting scent. “Thank you,” he breathes out, touched that you would do such a thing for him, and you tighten around him, happy that you’re able to give him this.

Later that night, when you walk Steve to his car after a long day of baking, he opens his passenger side door and grabs something from the seat. You watch him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“You think I came all the way here on Christmas Eve without a gift for you?” Steve teases, a smirk on his face as he hides something behind his arms.

You gasp, “You planned this, didn’t you?”

“Dustin called, I answered, and I saw it as the perfect opportunity to surprise you,” he shrugs, as if it’s no big deal. “Plus, I got homemade banana bread out of it, so shush and close your eyes.”

“Fine, but only because I have your gift waiting in my room. The second we’re done here, I’m running inside and bragging about my impeccable gift giving abilities.”

Steve chuckles fondly, knowing that whatever you will give him will ultimately be his favorite gift he’s ever received. “Okay, moron. Close your eyes.”

With a giggle, you close your eyes and eagerly await whatever you’re about to be given. Steve’s gift from last year, a signed poster of the original Spider-Man comic, now hangs on your bedroom wall. You love it dearly, every time you look at it, you smile.

Something soft is placed within your hands. Its texture is woolen, the material is heavy yet lightweight, and while you can’t figure out exactly what it is, you can’t help but notice how expensive it feels. “Okay, open your eyes.”

You do, and when you see what Steve has given you, you gasp. “Oh, it’s beautiful!”

Within your hands is a cardigan. The wool it has been knitted with is a lovely cream color, and you bring the clothing closer to admire all the wonderful details within the knit pattern. With small pieces of wool, hints of baby blues and pinks weave in and out of the cream. Along the front are buttons made from a beautiful dark wood, polished to perfection.

Steve lets out a nervous chuckle and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, well. Figured I owed you a new cardigan after basically tearing apart your old one.”

“I was bleeding out, Steve.” Your finger traces over a button, its wood is cool to the touch and so smooth that you can hardly believe it’s real. “If you hadn’t torn my favorite cardigan to stop the bleeding, I wouldn’t be alive today to call you an idiot for even considering I would be mad about that–”

As you admire one of the sleeves, your finger catches on something. Turning the clothing around, you see, within the inside of the sleeve, a messily sewn on patch. The stitches are crooked and horribly uneven, clearly done by someone unskinned with a needle. “What’s this?”

Steve clears his throat, uncharacteristically flustered. “Just… Something I added.”

The patch is small, no bigger than an inch or so, with messy handwriting on it that has become familiar to you through long hours at Bookstrordinary helping you write down all the orders needed for shipments.

S.H.

Steve must mistake your stunned silence for disgust, because he quickly tries to take the cardigan away from you in embarrassment. “Fuck, you–you think it’s weird and you hate it and I went too far–”

He had wanted to give you a piece of himself somehow.

His panicked rambling is cut off by your entire body being thrown against his. Suddenly he has an armful of you, flushed against him in the December chill, and Steve’s heartbeat threatens to beat out of his chest. He has you right where he wants you, in his arms with your perfume swirling around his brain as he buries his face into your hair.

Everything calms within him, all the panic and insecurity he had just been feeling is now gone.

“It’s perfect,” you whisper, not even bothering to hide the fact that you’re now crying. No one has ever made something for you, and the hand sewn patch that now resides on your beautiful cardigan makes everything within you burn.

Steve’s fingers slowly make their way to your hair and he risks pressing a kiss atop of your head. He relishes in the way his lips feel against your hair, how it feels like he’s done this all his life. “You really like it?”

“I love it.” You pull your head from his chest and catch his eye. They shine when they look at you, and you can’t help but think about how similar they look compared to last summer. Last July Steve had looked at you like he’d fall to his knees for you and kiss every crevice of your skin if you’d asked him to, and you had run away, terrified of the feelings you weren’t ready to face.

Now, as Steve stares down at you still as if you’re holding the sun within your hands, all you can think is home.

Home.

What a fascinating concept, being able to find a home within someone’s arms.

And it’s a fall like no other.

“I’m glad you love it,” Steve is breathless, both relieved and in awe that he’s done something to render you this speechless, that he has this effect on you.

Neither of you know how long you stand there wrapped in each other, but eventually you force yourself to detangle from the boy. When Steve groans at the loss of your touch, you gently shove him away with a smile. “I still owe you a gift, dummy.”

He thinks about this for a moment, hums to himself and taps his finger against his chin. You giggle, which is all he wanted to make you do, and finally he seems to come to a decision. “Fine, I will allow this because I wanna know what you got me.”

“Mhm, that’s what I thought.” You flick Steve’s nose and begin walking towards your house. “I’ll be back in a second!”

Steve watches as you run back inside, the cardigan he has gifted you is clutched tightly to your chest, and he knows he’s falling as well. He can feel it, the slight tug within his chest that expands into a warmth that steadily beats alongside his heart.

As you promised, you’re back with a small box wrapped in a simple blue paper within no time. Only this time, you’re now wearing the cardigan and Steve’s heart skips a beat when he sees you.

You’re practically skipping as you return to his side, stupidly excited for Steve to see what you’ve gotten for him; you all but shove the gift into his hands. “Open it!”

He can’t help but laugh at your enthusiasm, though his heartbeat still hasn’t quite settled yet. “So bossy.”

You ignore Steve’s teasing and instead watch the look on his face as he unwraps the box and opens its lid. Within the box, tucked delicately between sheets of tissue paper, is a framed photo of Steve and Dustin.

A mix of emotions cross Steve’s face, from shock to curiosity to pure adoration. His lips part slightly, a slight gasp escapes him. “Y/N…”

You’re beaming, though you shrug as if it’s just another Monday for you. The photo is your favorite, taken the other day while they worked on a robot set that Steve had brought over. “Jonathan left his camera at my place a few weeks ago, and you and Dustin looked incredibly sweet working together, so… I snuck a picture while you two were busy bickering over drill bit sizes.”

In the picture, Dustin’s hands are gesturing wildly at Steve, his eyes manic, yet there’s a genuine smile on both of their faces despite the clear indications that they’re arguing. Tools are scattered around them and a poor, misshapen robot lays discarded on the table in front of them, long forgotten in the midst of their argument.

It’s the perfect photo, honestly.

Steve lets out a wet chuckle, his eyes are shining with fondness. “That kid is such a pain in the ass.”

“Yeah, but you can’t help but love him anyway.” You nudge him, drawing his attention back to you. “It’s not often I see Dustin befriend someone so quickly, ya know.”

Steve ducks his head down, flushed from what you’re implying. “Yeah, well. He’s a good kid.”

“He is.” You stand on your tiptoes and press your lips against his cheek, before whispering into his ear, “and so are you.”

You feel Steve shiver, and he grips at your waist so that you can’t back away again. He pauses for a moment, allows your words to sink in and your kiss to seep throughout his body. There’s more he wants to say, his lips practically beg to be drawn to yours, but he takes a deep breath and says what he knows he can give you. “Merry Christmas, angel.”

“Merry Christmas, honey.” Your lips graze Steve’s ear and he shivers again. This, he knows, is where he was always meant to be.

–

Spring comes, and Steve doesn’t get into any of the colleges he applied for.

It’s a hard blow, and the months you’ve spent trying to rebuild his confidence comes crashing down within seconds.

Steve draws into himself, you don’t see him at school for a few days and he doesn’t stop by your work. He’s embarrassed, hiding from his shame of not being good enough to even get into Tech. He’s everything his father told him he’d be. A failure, an embarrassment to the Harrington name.

You give Steve a few days to himself, trusting that he’ll come back when he’s ready; you know how deeply he carries the weight of his father’s expectations. However, when almost a week goes by without any word from the teen, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

Which leads you to now: knocking on Steve’s door with platters of fresh baked goods, Mike and the others holding their own assortment of snacks and movies for tonight.

It took a lot of bargaining and multiple batches of brownies, but in the end you convinced Dustin and the others to surprise Steve with a movie night at his house. You knew his parents would be out of town this week, they’re hardly ever home anyways.

After a few swift knocks, you don’t have to wait long before Steve opens the door. He looks tired, his hair is a mess and he’s wearing the ratty sweatpants that you absolutely hate on him. It looks like he hasn’t slept in days, and when he sees who is behind his door, he frowns. “Why are you all holding snacks?”

“Well, hello to you too, buddy.” Dustin is the first to enter, shoving past Steve without a care in the world. He looks around and whistles, impressed with the house. “Y/N said you were rich, but damn.”

“Is that a pool?” Lucas makes his way in as well, Max loosely holding his hand as she follows.

El looks up at you. “What is a pool?”

“Mike,” you call for the boy to get his attention. When he turns to you, brownie shoved in his mouth, you point towards El. “Can you explain to her what a pool is while I talk to Steve?”

Mike salutes you and grabs El’s hand, yanking her inside so that you’re left alone with the teen. As soon as they’re gone, Steve lets out an exasperated sigh. “What is this, Y/N?”

“Mandatory movie night!” You exclaim, hoping that your fake enthusiasm will be enough to rub off on him as well. You really, really hope that this plan works.

Steve sighs again, his heart isn’t in it to play along. “Y/N…”

“You’ve missed an entire week of school and Bookstrordinary misses its most loyal customer.” You’re basically pleading now, scared that Steve will turn you and everyone else away. “I just… I miss you and I know you enjoy the kids, even if you try to deny it, and I want you to just spend this one night with us. No worrying about the future, no family drama, just me, you, and the kids as we watch horrible scary movies and eat an unhealthy amount of sugar, okay?”

“But–”

“No, you’re not allowed to argue with me.” Steve stares at you, baffled, but you simply barge past him and enter the home as well. “We’re going to have fun tonight, damn it.”

He watches as you walk inside and start ordering the kids around. Within no time, you’ve arranged a neat row of cookies and brownies and chips and dinosaur nuggets on his dining room table while the kids start making a fort in the living room.

Steve sighs, knowing he’s long lost this battle with you, and joins you to help with grabbing more blankets and pillows for the fort.

One part of the deal for a movie night at Steve’s was allowing all the kids to pick their own movie to watch. You’d been very hesitant to say yes to this, but ultimately Mike’s nagging won in the end. His movie choice goes first, and within the first fifteen minutes of it, a fort has been made and the kids quickly settle within it, a mess of sheets and pillows and blankets.

You’re on the couch, lazily stretched out, knowing that there’s no room for you in the fort with the others. You don’t mind, you honestly prefer having the couch to yourself, and you only further come to enjoy this when Steve makes his way into the living room and looks around.

“Where am I supposed to sit?” He asks, slightly offended that he doesn’t get to share the fort.

“Here,” you pat the couch, though you don’t bother to make any room for him. Your entire body rests on the couch, there isn’t enough space for him to sit comfortably on the edge.

Steve bites his lip. He wants, more than anything, to lay on top of you and melt into your body, but he just isn’t sure what boundaries have been placed between the two of you. When you notice his misplaced hesitation, you simply sigh and tug at his legs, causing him to fall on top of you. “Shit–”

He collapses onto you and your body braces for his impact, the weight of him foreign yet welcome. He’s wearing the cologne you love and you reach for his shirt to tug him closer so that he’s now properly laying on you. You sigh happily, wrapping your arms around Steve. “See, was that so hard?”

“If you wanted to cuddle, you could’ve just asked.” Steve grumbles, but he situates himself so that he’s laying more comfortably on you and scoops you into his own arms as well. He rests his head against your chest and your fingers find their way into his hair, as they always seem to do.

Steve closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy your touch, for once not caring that the kids are just below the two of you in their fort. Normally he’s more reserved around you when they’re near, especially Dustin.

That kid never lets Steve catch a break when it comes to you.

But he’s exhausted and has spent the last week either crying or pretending that he’s someone he isn’t, so Steve indulges in your warmth and relishes in the way your fingers seem to unconsciously draw small circles on his back; he’s so fucking grateful that you exist.

You’re always there to catch him, to remind him of who he can be despite his continuous flaws.

The surprise movie night ends up being everything Steve needs. He laughs at Mike’s horrible jokes, shows El how to use the VHR, he argues with Max about whether peanut butter belongs with chocolate, Dustin throws popcorn at you when you kiss Steve’s cheek, and Lucas even asks him about basketball and if he has any advice for him once he gets to high school.

It’s the most fun Steve has had in a while, and he realizes why you spend so much time with these kids. They’re everything, really. Smart and fucking hilarious and easy to be around. They’re honest with him, they tell him he’s an idiot for not getting into college while in the same breath debating with him about if college is even worth it.

Plus, you litter Steve’s face with more kisses than usual tonight, which only brightens his mood further. You’ve been more affectionate with him lately, holding his hand more often and pressing your lips wherever you can. It’s as if he’s found some key, unlocking all the love you’ve stored within you.

Steve isn’t an idiot, he knows there’s more to it, so do you. However, rather than acknowledge it, you both choose to simply bask in it. It’s not time yet, bringing this into the light. It’s delicate, still forming into something that Steve is sure will be incredible.

For now, he allows his lips to skim across your face while the kids aren’t looking. They’ve been dying to do this ever since he’s known you, and the giggle you let out is more than enough for him.

–

Spring turns to summer and before Steve knows it, he’s graduating.

He rolls over in bed and stares at the ceiling. The Harrington household is quiet. His parents have gone on yet another business trip, his father had scoffed when Steve had asked if they’d be back in time for his ceremony.

“Why should we attend if you’re not going to do anything with that diploma?”

“Right,” Steve had scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed that he had even thought to ask his father to come. “I’m sorry.”

His mother, who had been quiet as they spoke, only stepped forward once her husband had left the room. She brought a hand to his face and tentatively stroked his cheek with her finger. “I’m proud of you, my beautiful boy.”

Steve had smiled at her, knowing that she meant well and yet heartbroken that she couldn’t voice this in front of his father. She smiled sadly at him, as if she sensed what he had been thinking, before following after her husband. As she always does.

The doorbell rings, effectively breaking Steve out of his momentary self pity. He looks at his alarm clock and frowns. It’s early in the morning, he doesn’t know who could be at the door at such an hour.

Sighing, he gets out of bed and makes his way downstairs angry at the world. He’s tired of growing up, his parents suck, he’s almost definitely skipping his graduation ceremony, and now he has to get out of bed to go answer the door.

He opens the door and when he sees that it’s you, his mood drastically improves. You’re dressed in a pretty lavender sundress, a departure from your usual t-shirts and shorts that Steve has come to associate as your summer uniform. By the time he manages to take his eyes off of you, he realizes too late that you’re holding flowers and shoving your way into his home.

“Ready to graduate?” You ask, carefully setting the flowers down on his kitchen table. “You can’t skip it if I’m here, ya know.”

Steve groans. “How did you even know I was going to skip?”

“Because you’re predictable and I enjoy making you do what’s best for you.” You’ve grabbed his hand and are dragging him towards his room. “Now, go find something nice to wear while I put your flowers in a vase.”

“But–”

You don’t give Steve any time to argue as you’ve already left the room to go and take care of the flowers. He lets out another groan, he knows he can’t argue his way out of this one. You’ve dressed up for a graduation, bought Steve flowers, and now he has to put on some stupid outfit to make a smile cross your pretty little face.

He settles on a simple white button down shirt and a pair of nice dress pants, and you return to his room as he’s struggling with the buttons. When you see him, you laugh with affection and walk over to him. “Here, let me see.”

Steve lets you button his shirt, your breath is warm against his chest as your fingers quickly secure the buttons into the place. He admires the cute frown on your face as you concentrate, and he allows his hands to come up to yours and slots your fingers together. You’re taken aback by the sudden affection.

“What are you doing?” You ask, a familiar blush on your face from his touch. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to this.

“Nonthin’.” Steve says, though he lets go of one of your hands and places it on the small of your back as he always does. He uses the hand to push you closer and the other hand remains intertwined with yours. He stares down at you, he’s close enough to count every eyelash that dots along your pretty eyes. “Just admiring you.”

“Is this some ploy to distract me from your graduation?” Though you try to tease him, you’re weak and let out a soft sigh when Steve pulls you even closer, feeling his body against yours. He’s allowed himself to become bolder with you, and as if to prove this, he tucks your hair behind your ear and kisses your brow. You exhale with a shaky breath, your resolve dwindles. “Honey…”

Steve chuckles at your reaction, revels in it. He hopes to one day memorize all the ways he can make you sigh his name and shiver against him. For now, however, he pulls away and finishes getting dressed. “I know, I know. Graduation time.”

The perfectly aimed sandal that you throw at him is enough to solidify to Steve that he is, truly, happy.

–

Dustin is the first one Steve sees in the bleachers, then Mike, and then El, before he realizes that the entire party has managed to make it to his graduation ceremony.

“You invited them?” He turns to you, somehow surprised that you would do such a simple and lovely thing.

“Of course I did.” You kiss his cheek and quickly fix his hair as you adjust his graduation cap. You’ve been fretting over his appearance ever since you left his house, and he hates how giddy he feels whenever you dote on him. “Now, go find your seat and don’t trip on the stage!”

You’re gone in a flash, leaving Steve alone as you go and join the kids in the bleachers with all the other friends and family in attendance. The school’s gym is packed, everyone has someone there for them to see them walk across the stage, and though Steve’s actual family isn’t here, he has you and the kids in the stands cheering for him.

Steve decides, then, that you and the kids are his true family.

The ceremony is long and boring, and Steve spends the entire time sneaking glances at you.

You’re attentive, nodding along to all the boring speeches made by teachers and clapping for every student’s name that is called. He sees you breakup a fight between Mike and Max over something, he guesses it’s probably something dumb, and he laughs when you switch seats with Max in the end.

As he watches you, Steve feels what he felt the first day he ever spoke to you when you almost hit his car with your bike. When he’d gotten out of his car and found you laying in the ditch, he felt what he feels now: a slow, all encompassing wave of sunlight.

He felt it when he drove you home the following week and you’d told him he wasn’t a bad person, and he felt it again when you’d spared him kindness at Jonathan’s while fighting the Demogorgon. Then, in front of the hospital’s vending machine, the sunlight turned into a fireplace within his chest when you’d giggled and told him you were friends.

Since then, the fire has only burned deeper within Steve. It burned when he’d gifted you that poster, when he had spent every day at your job just to be near you. It had burned Steve when you’d left him that summer, the sting of it unbearable as it seared his skin. Then it had dimmed, abandoned, until you came back again and reignited it once more.

When you whispered confessions to Steve in the dark, he felt it then. When you sacrificed your life to save his, leaving a scar on your rib cage that Steve can feel whenever he hugs you, he felt it then as well. The fire was there when you leaned against him, accepted the help he has always tried to provide for you, when he gave you a piggyback ride back inside Jonathan’s and tucked you into bed.

It all comes back to Steve in flashes.

Your promise to him to wait, to stay even though he couldn’t give you what you deserved, what you needed. The gentleness of your promise and the framed photo of him and Dustin that now sits proudly on his bedside table. The surprise movie nights, how you call him “honey” and he calls you “angel”.

It’s always been there.

The warmth had started back before Steve even knew what warmth was, when he first saw you. He had been thirteen and you had been twelve.

Now, at almost seventeen and eighteen, you’re cheering for Steve’s name as it’s called upon the stage and he finally knows what this feeling is. Steve accepts his diploma and shakes hands with his principal and he swears he can hear your voice, screaming his name with pure joy, above everyone else’s; it’s as if his body is attuned to yours.

This, Steve knows, is love.

–

The school year ends and summer break begins.

There’s a new mall in Hawkins, one that’s big and flashy and opens just in time for summer vacation. Dustin spends entire days there with the party before he reluctantly leaves for Camp Know Where. You miss your brother dearly, but you know the camp is good for him.

When you find out that Jonathan and Nancy have become interns at the Hawkins Post, you scream and throw yourself into their arms, incredibly proud of them, yet you’re sad as well. You didn’t realize that you’d be spending your last summer before senior year apart from your best friend, though you know he’s always dreamed of showcasing his photography.

It’s bittersweet, but when Steve gets a job at the new mall, the free ice cream that you get makes up for it.

Plus, his uniform for Scoops Ahoy doesn’t hurt.

“You’re not allowed to laugh.” Steve threatens you, horribly self conscious with how short his shorts are. You made him promise to show you the uniform, but now he’s seriously regretting it as you bite your lip; he sees the laugh before it comes. “I mean it! No laughing, it’s already bad enough that I have to work–”

He’s cut off by your loud, smug laugh. It overtakes your entire body as you hunch over, gasping for breath as you wheeze out, “You look great!”

Steve hides behind the ice cream counter, absolutely mortified. Here he is, being laughed at by the girl he’s so fucking in love with, as he wears a stupid sailor hat and a god damn ascot.

In between your laughs, you see the despair on Steve’s face and you try to calm down. “Okay, I’m sorry,” you wipe tears from your eyes, still slightly giggling. “It’s just… You look so adorable in that uniform!”

Immediately Steve straightens his back and crosses his arms, trying to look more dignified. “One, never call a man adorable. That’s just offensive. Two, I will not get out from behind this counter until you stop giggling at me.”

“Who are we giggling at?” An unfamiliar girl now appears, wearing the exact same uniform that Steve is, and when she sees you standing in front of the teen, she raises her eyebrows in disbelief. “Henderson with Harrington?”

She knows your name, and you quickly wrack your head to try and figure out why she looks so familiar. At the very least, you know she has to be a grade below you, though you can’t quite place her, which you feel bad about. She looks kind.

“Yes, Henderson with Harrington.” You extend your hand out for the girl to shake. “I’m Y/N, though I guess you already knew that.”

“Robin Buckley,” she accepts your handshake, giving you an interested smile. She already seems to like you, which you’re relieved by.

Steve watches this interaction with pure dread. He had met Robin a few days ago during his interview for the job, and she’s made his life a living hell of torment and teasing ever since. Now, with you two meeting, he knows that you’ll only add onto Robin’s incredibly quick wit. “Oh, please don’t become friends.”

“Too late.” You wink at Robin. “Wanna check out this insanely large mall together?”

Robin gasps. “It’d be my pleasure.” She hops over the counter, completely bypassing the door that lets you out, and loops her arm through yours. “Later, dingus!”

“Bye, Steve!”

He stands there, defeated, as you and Robin giggle together while you leave. It only took thirty seconds before you abandoned him like some traitor. Sighing, he picks up a rag and starts wiping down the tables in the ice cream shop.

From the corner of his eye he can see you and Robin running around the mall. You’re giggling as you chase after the girl, your hair is tied in a loose ponytail and one of the straps on your overalls has slid down your arm. You look happy, bright and alive, far from the girl Steve remembers from last winter.

It takes Steve’s breath away.

Then, as if you can sense his eyes on you, you turn. Your eyes connect, your cheeks are flushed from running and you’re breathless as you smile at him. Steve returns your smile, winks, and he can almost hear your giggle.

You finally look away, going back to chasing after Robin as the two of you retreat further into the mall, and as your figure fades in the distance, there’s only one thing on Steve’s mind.

I can’t wait to make her mine.

-

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[katsukikoi]

Hi Atlas, can I request a headcanon of how the Jujutsu Kaisen boys would react when you stand up for them when someone's talking bad about them.

If it's possible, can you do Gojo, Toji and Choso? I feel like they would be the type of people who usually don't care about what people say about them, but when their partner stands up for them and defends them, they just feel really nice and wondered what they did to deserve someone like you. Thank you! 🥹

Hi sweetheart, ill try my best!

Characters; Gojo, Toji and Choso

warnings; non.

y/n so is sweet, so sweet.

So when she get over protective with Gojo, he gets so swooned.

Gojo, wouldn't think about how others care, in fact he would just take it as a joke and his ego would grow, smirking and smiling.

But, when his little girlfriend gets all protective all because of someone talking shit about him, he wouldn't stop teasing her about it.

"The only reason why your girlfriend is with you is because you have looks and money, you lack a personality. Gojo Satoru." They sneered, Dragging out his name in hate, making gojo only smirk, with a shrug waving them off. It hurt a bit, they weren't wrong, he has the looks and money. He knows that, its engraved in his brain since he was a teen. Spoilt, cocky and dam good looking.

It wasn't different, everyday was like this, it wasn't new to him.

y/n heard them, she glared. Hard. Making the attacker shudder.

"well, i have never heard something so incorrect. Toru' has personality, more than you do. Your only a 2nd grade sorcerer, and your older. Please, do tell me about that? wasn't toru' the one who saved you from a low graded curse the other day? are you really insecure? " y/n calmly spoke, side eying them the whole time as she basically dismissed them

"how embarrassing." she spat out, with a sickeningly sweet smile her hands crossed in a traditional kimono. She wore white, with beautiful blue to match Satoru’s eyes.

The other sorcerer shamefully looked down as they scampered away tail inbetween their legs.

"huphm" she huffed, she turned to look at Satoru, not realising he was already looking at her with a awe struck face.

"baby.." he spoke, whispering as he felt a new emotion he hasnt felt since geto. y/n looked up, blinking as she watched his face, he giggled, picking her up and spinning.

"gojo! what the hell are you doing?" she laughed, putting her forehead with his. Letting him peppering her face. making her giggle more at his antics. She tried to push him off, but couldnt. "i love you" was blabbered out of his mouth as he kissed her face.

Satoru Gojo, would never do that to anyone, but now that he has y/n. He would never let her go, he felt so loved and warm on the inside.

Toji doesn't care about how people talk about him, having been around it everyday even before his girlfriend, and son.

Toji was a strong, very strong man, but he is so weak with his women. It was no surprise that he was flabbergasted and weak to his knees. The way she would carry herself and his son; megumi. God, he was so in love.

"Toji Zenin, you have grown weak, that women has made you weak." the higher ups would nag and nag, toji would just shrug them off as he made them no mind.

"soon your lover, will leave you and your son." The higher up spoke, smugly as if he knew his family. This would make Toji's mind click, and think. "really?" he said, in this mind, he would never say it has he laughed it off.

It wasn't until the said women came in holding young megumi's hand, " oi! stop terrorising my husband huh? you stupid old man. Im surprised that you dont have family with your age." she spoke, now picking up little megumi as he giggled, holding his step mother as he did so. y/n walked pass as she tapped her boyfriends chest, kissing his bicep as she passed.

She looked back at the stuttering and gawking man. "can i help you?" she asked, sassily. Popping her hip as Toji, slowly wrapped a hand around her hip, he wouldn't stop looking at her, smirking as he realised that he wants to marry this women. His gaze shifted from her to megumi who was crawled up on her.

The higher up now long gone as he huffed and walked off.

"Toji, dear are you--" she started as she quickly got pulled into a messy kiss. "Toji..?" she spoke, pulling away as she batted her half-lidded eyes.

Toji laughed as he pulled this family with him, his whole world. " didn't needa' do that sweets." he spoke, pulling her closer. As close as he can as she fitted into his hip, molding with his own body. Fitting nicely.

"well, i didnt like how they were talking about you, s'all." she spoke, shyly as she bopped megumi's nose and kissed it.

"husband huh?" his smile, turning into a wide smirk.

Choso never cared about what the other curses said, only caring about his little brother Yuji and his women y/n.

Choso never recognised anyone else words but y/n's.

He was swooning when he first saw her talking to his little brother, he was shy at first. But as they grew together, he now doesn't stop, grabbing, kissing, touching, talking. Wherever she was, he close by. Watching out for his clumsy women.

“watch where your going you stupid curse.” a teenager spat at the man who looked at him then back at his women, he moved past him as he went to embrace his girl. Who was talking with yuji, smiling as she did so.

“oi! im talking to you!” The teen used 3rd grade jujutsu, ready to attack the man. Not before y/n used her own jujutsu to shield the weak attack. “your an idiot, go back to class.” she spoke, glaring down as she did so. She flicked his head rolling her eyes, “fucking waste of time. Im surpised gojo-sensei saw something in you, beacuse i surely dont.” she mocked, makimg the teen frown. But he listened, running back to his friends embarrassed.

Choso, blinked. Looking back and forth at the scene. He felt his heart flutter, smiling softly at the women.

He turned her by the loop of her belt, He leaned in to give her a peck on the lips. “choso?” she whispered on his lips.

“thank you, you didnt need to baby girl.” he smiled.

————

i hope you enjoyed and i pray that was your liking, ots not really a hc, its more of a imagine type thing! if you don’t like it, i can redo it!

( requests are open! look at my page for the rules <3 )

much love, atlas. 💣✨

[desertfangs]

Strange Happenings

I was listening to a podcast about Cattle Mutilations and then this happened. It's Armand/Daniel, circa 1975, a little more than 1000 words. I will put this in my short fic document on AO3 later.

Daniel’s blood went cold when he read the newspaper headline. He scoured the article and then checked that yes, this was the Denver paper, not some tabloid. He enjoyed a good tabloid story—and since learning that vampires were real, he suspected that some of the stranger things reported on in those rags were not entirely fiction—but this was a mainstream paper: cattle mutilations. 

He looked at the grisly photo of a cow with its guts hanging out, parts of it surgically removed. Bile rose in his throat and he swallowed a swig of beer to wash it back down. Ash fell from his cigarette onto the paper and he wiped it away, ashing the cigarette in the ashtray on the small round bar table. 

He poured over the article several times. The article said some people were suggesting it was prank, while others had more out-there theories. The article did not go into the specifics of what these strange theories entailed but something unnatural was definitely implied. Daniel wondered what that meant. According to the article, incidents like these had been happening for months in different areas around the state. 

He was so absorbed in his reading that the movement of the chair across the table startled him and he jumped. 

Armand laughed. 

Bastard. 

The vampire had sat, looking pleased with himself at how easily he’d managed to sneak up on Daniel. As if he didn’t do it all the damn time. Daniel glanced out the window. He hadn’t even realized it had gotten dark. 

“What are you reading?” Armand asked, grabbing the newspaper and sliding it across the table before Daniel could answer. 

Armand scanned the page and frowned. Daniel studied him, waiting for his reaction. It didn’t take long. Armand didn’t have to read like a mortal. He could just look at something and absorb the information. He had once insisted to Daniel that he was reading, just faster than a mortal brain could ever manage.

“Well? Is that your kind’s doing?” 

Armand laughed again. “You think vampires would bother with such elaborate and silly games?” 

You seem to enjoy games, Daniel thought before catching himself, remembering how easily the vampire could hear his thoughts.

“I have no interest in the blood of cows,” Armand said. “Nor do I desire to hack pieces off large animals.” 

“No? Seems like it would be a fun weeknight activity for someone like you,” Daniel said, tone droll. He stubbed the butt of his cigarette against the ashtray and pulled the paper back in front of him. “Do you know what’s doing it?”

“Bored children, probably,” Armand said.

Daniel laughed. He couldn’t help it. What an absurd response! “You think kids are going out and hacking up farm animals?” 

Armand shrugged. “The article suggests as much.” 

It did say local teens were suspected in at least one of the incidents, a copycat prank. He tapped his fingers against the table. “So you don’t know of a creature that might do something like this?” 

Armand’s expression shifted, darkening almost imperceptibly. He titled his head and examined Daniel for a long moment while Daniel tried not to squirm uncomfortably  under the scrutiny. Then he said, “I’ve never heard of such a creature and I cannot fathom what form they would take.” 

Daniel sighed. He folded the newspaper up. “What about Bigfoot?”

Armand blinked. “Are you asking if I believe a giant ape man is carving up cattle?” 

Daniel shrugged. 

“I’ve told you before, Daniel, I have no knowledge of such things existing. I am immortal, I am not all knowing.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Daniel waved his hand and lit another cigarette. “Do you kill animals often?” 

Armand actually looked surprised for a moment, which made Daniel smile. It took a lot to throw Armand off kilter and Daniel took great pleasure in doing so. 

Armand reached across the table and snatched the cigarette from Daniel’s mouth at a speed that made it look as if the cigarette had flown into his hand of its own accord. Daniel’s heart raced but he tried not to show the jolt of primal fear that ran through him.

Armand held the cigarette between his fingers the way Daniel did, mimicking his motions. “Humans are animals,” he said idly. 

“You know that’s not what I mean. Louis said he survived on rats—"

Armand’s head shot up and there was danger in his amber eyes. Daniel swallowed uneasily and reached for his glass. “Do not think speaking to one of us at length makes you an expert. And even he told you that was not normal behavior.” 

Daniel took a swig of his beer. “I’m not an expert, that’s why I’m asking you.” 

Armand put the cigarette to his lips. He inhaled, and then pulled it from his mouth, staring at it like it had offended him somehow. “We survive on animal blood when there is no other alternative. It’s your blood—the blood of mortals—that truly sustains us. Nothing else is sufficient.” 

Armand stared meaningfully at Daniel’s neck as he spoke and Daniel’s hand went automatically to the spot where Louis had bitten him. It had been two years but he could still feel the ghost of the wound and he often wondered how it would feel to have Armand’s fangs in his neck.

Armand’s hand jutted forward, offering Daniel back his cigarette. He took it, fingers brushing Armand’s cool fingers. He wanted to grab his hand suddenly and hold it in his, to see if it would warm up in his grasp. But Armand had already stood, pushing his chair back. 

“Where are you going?” Daniel demanded, without really thinking. He should be relieved the vampire was going. He was ice cold and probably hadn’t fed, and here Daniel was, stupidly asking him all about blood. That was a recipe for getting himself on the menu. 

And yet he didn’t hate the idea. Vampires could drink without killing. 

Armand leaned over the table and brushed a stray hair out of Daniel’s face. “Indeed we can, but it’s not satisfying. When I drink, I ride the heart until it stops and all the life has bled out.” 

Daniel’s pulse raced, ice traveling down his spine. And then Armand was gone, almost as if he’d vanished into smoke. Daniel opened the newspaper again and tried to find something to distract himself, waving to the bartender for another beer. He sure as hell wasn’t going to go back to his hotel room alone until the sun was high in the sky and it was safe to do so. 

[erikahenningsen]

4 cady/regina?

4. “Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?”

Cady's been spending a lot of time with Regina lately. Just them, no Gretchen or Karen.

It isn't until she's started spending her afternoons doing homework sprawled out on Regina's fluffy white rug that Cady realizes how much of a performance Regina was putting on every time they would hang out as a group.

Cady has learned a lot about Regina just in the last few weeks—she likes to read, for one thing. And not the teen romance novels that are Cady's personal guilty pleasure. Regina reads Shakespeare, Richard Wright, John Steinbeck.

This afternoon, Regina is sitting in her bed propped up on no less than four pillows reading a thick biography of Joe McCarthy ("He originated gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss," Regina had said when Cady asked about it) while Cady works her way through her calculus homework.

The problem with doing her homework at Regina's is that Cady often finds herself staring at Regina—the way she squints slightly in concentration or taps a pen against her teeth absently—without even realizing she's doing it. She's gotten caught multiple times, but Regina only ever blushes a little and goes back to whatever she was doing, so Cady hasn't really tried to stop.

Which is how Cady notices that Regina has been shifting restlessly for the last twenty minutes, seemingly unable to get comfortable, but Cady doesn't say anything until Regina lets out a soft grunt of pain.

"Are you okay?" Cady asks.

"My back is bothering me," Regina says, softly, like she doesn't want to admit it.

Cady frowns. "Why?"

"I got hit by a bus." Regina tosses one of her pillows onto the floor.

"Oh." Cady looks down, mentally kicking herself. "Right. Sorry."

"It's not your fault," Regina reminds her, her voice a little tight.

They're quiet for a few minutes, and Cady can tell Regina is trying not to move around too much, but her mouth is tense and she's breathing harshly through her nose. Something about the sight makes Cady's chest tighten.

"Do you... well..." Cady starts hesitantly. "I mean... I could give you a massage?"

Regina just stares at her for a moment. "A massage?"

"Yeah like... with my hands?" Cady says, holding her hands up, because she's still incapable of not sounding like an idiot in front of a crush.

Cady's brain screeches to a halt for a moment at the sudden realization of what she feels for Regina but she has to quickly file that thought away to obsess over later because Regina says, "Okay."

Cady climbs onto the bed, gesturing for Regina to sit in front of her, because if she has to straddle Regina while she lies on her stomach Cady's brain will actually explode and she will die right here in Regina's bedroom without ever having taken AP Calculus BC.

Tentatively, Cady sweeps Regina's hair to the side and places her hands on her shoulders, digging her thumbs into the space between Regina's shoulder blades.

Carefully, Cady massages the muscles of Regina's back, the way her mom used to do for her when she couldn't sleep, their breathing only sound in the room.

Until Regina lets out a soft sound that Cady knows she'll be repeating in her mind for the rest of the day, the rest of the week, maybe the rest of her life. She doesn't know how she can ever think about anything but that sound, low and intimate and triggering wholly inappropriate thoughts that she tries to get under control because a small part of her is still convinced Regina is, on some level, telepathic.

"Hey," Regina complains, wiggling a little, and Cady realizes her hands have stopped moving.

"Sorry," Cady says, resuming her massage, although she feels a little like she's a puppeteer controlling her arms by strings from above.

"Thanks," Regina says after another few minutes, turning around to give Cady a soft smile. "That helped."

Cady just nods, knowing she is absolutely screwed.

[gaybananabread]

Oh my gosh congratulations on the milestone!! 🥳💖 I would love something for ROTTMNT! Maybe lee Mikey and ler Leo or lers Raph, Leo and Donnie. I’d love Dragon Fruit, Oranges & Grapes! Take all the time you need and I hope you’re doing well! 💖

Fruit(s): Dragon Fruit, Oranges, Grapes

AAAAAHG THANK YOU! You're so nice all the time, just make my brain go (>w<)✨! Been a hot second since I've done something for Rise, these boys need some more love from me. (Got carried away but we don't talk about that shhhhhshsh) Again, thank you sosososo much, and I hope you Enjoy!

Lee: Mikey

Lers: Raph, Leo, Donnie

Summary: Mikey tries making a treat for his bros, but things don't go as planned, bumming him out. The boys quickly notice and, after a quick wrestling match and some questions, manage to get their baby bro back into his high spirits.

Warnings: none! This is a fic, so if you don't like that, scroll away!!

“No no nononONONO!”

Feeling his heart sink, Mikey pulled his fruity Danish pastries from the oven. The charred surfaces and burning smell of the treats brought tears to his eyes. Three hours of work down the drain…

The teen had been trying to make desserts for his brothers; they’d been really supportive during his recovery from the Kraang invasion, encouraging him and helping him wrap his arms. Even Donnie had put aside some extra time to shop for arm braces. They deserved it.

His arm had a flare-up during the baking, making him take a break to put a brace on. The timer had gone off without him in the room, his poor confections roasted beyond recognition. He sniffed, dumping the marred fruits of his labor into the trash. Maybe some music and drawing would help…

-

“Okay, family meeting.” Raph sat down with his two of his brothers, Donnie quickly correcting him. “Teeechnically, it's a partial family meeting. If we count the main seven family members and round the percentage, it's only about 42%-” He got a hand clamped over his mouth, the blue-themed turtle interjecting. “HUSH the nerd stuff! We know what we're here for, right?”

Donnie scoffed, but stopped spouting math. All three brothers knew what the problem was. Raph took charge again, attempting some order. “Mikey's been really down all day. Raph's worried about him.”

The purple clad turtle tapped his wristlet, frowning. He had been keeping track of Mikey's expressions from the past few days.“He seemed fine yesterday. Angelo’s face only drops around two today. I hadn't seen him for a few hours, my data’s a bit incomplete. I think he was in the kitchen.”

Leo blinked, seeming shocked. “Wow. Your number craziness finally paid off.” A claw extended from Donnie’s battle shell, whacking the snarky teen upside the head. Raph stepped between them before any more chaos could ensue.

“HEY! Donnie, do ya know what he was doin’ in there?” He huffed before answering, looking down. “I…do not. Dr. Delicate Touch made me promise not to install cameras; even I won't defy him.”

That was fair; none of them wanted to go against Dr. DT… Leo sighed, twirling his mask tails as he spoke. “I've tried asking, but no dice. The dude's clearly not okay, but he won't talk about it. Little hypocrite…” 

The techy teen offered an idea. “We could try to interrogate him.” Leo snorted, snapping out of his little trance. “Interrogate? What is this, one of dad's movies? Besides, it'd probably only make him more upset.”

Raph bit his finger as he thought; one bad habit he'd tried and failed to drop. He got an idea, snapping his fingers and smiling. Bingo. “I got it! Listen up boys, here’s the plan…”

-

Mikey was sitting on his bed, moping and dragging a pencil across some cardboard. He wasn’t making anything; it was just a nice way to destress. Things weren’t working as well as they usually did, though… A knock at his train car door startled him, making the typically upbeat boy flinch and drop the pencil. “C-coming…”

The metal slid open, an obviously forced smile on his face. All three of them wanted to wrap him in a hug, but they had to follow the plan. “Hey guys…what is it?” 

Leo stepped forward, looking his brother over. He took special notice of the arm braces. “Alright hermano, the jig is up. What’s wrong?”

The boy’s fake smile faltered a bit, though he tried to keep the act going. “J-jig? I dunno what you’re talking about, Leo. I’m good!” His artificial confidence got a bit stronger at the end. It was clear he wasn’t telling them without a fight. 

Raph was next to get closer, trying to sneakily box the boy in. This time, however, a small smile was paired with the chasm. 

A small squeak escaped the youngest as he backed up, recognizing the look on his brothers’ faces. They wouldn’t…would they? “C’mon Mike, this can go quickly if ya just hold still.” Oh. They would.

Feeling a slight giddiness rise in his chest, Mikey ran farther into his train car, diving for his escape hatch. Raph stopped him in his tracks, using his mystic tonfā power to catch him in a giant fist. Leo ran over, being careful of his brother’s arms as he tossed him into his hammock.

“GUys- guys wahait! Mikey squirmed and kicked, the hammock swinging as he thrashed. Leo flipped his sword, opening two portals to hold his brother’s arms safely. Didn’t want him getting hurt after all that recovery time.

“Nah, there’s no fun in waitin’. Raph’s out for giggles and the truth.” Wasting no time, Raph started poking at his brother’s armpits. A genuine smile formed on the younger’s face, giggles spilling from his lips. “Rahaphie! Nohohot thihis!” 

“But this is the best! You get to giggle, and we get to hear it.” Leo smirked, not wanting to miss out on the fun. “Big man’s right, Miguel. The truth will set you free~!” He moved his hands to Mikey’s plastron, scratching and scribbling on the area where his stomach would be. “LeheheHEEOOOOO! C-chohOHOME OHOHOhohon!” 

“Just tell the truth, Micheal. You know there’s no simple way out of this predicament.” Donnie took in the sight of them; his co-conspirators smirking, enjoying the sound of their brother’s laughter, and Mikey, laughing and sounding happier than he had all day. He supposed it was worth breaking a few of his rules for the occasion. He pressed a button on his bo, the feather he used against Shredder popping out. 

“D-dehehee? Whahat ahare youHU- NYAAAHAHAHO!” Mikey squealed as he felt the soft fibers of the feather run behind his knees. Curse him for taking off the knee pads… The armpit pokes, the tummy scritches, the feather on his knees; it was all too tickly. It was nice to be able to laugh with his brothers, though he didn’t know how much longer he could take all of them at once.

Raph chuckled, smiling warmly as his brother laughed. Those goofs were gonna be the death of him…but he loved them more than he could ever express. If it takes some playful tickles to get one of his bros to open up, then so be it. “All ya gotta do is fess up, Mikey. What’s been goin’ on today?”

He still didn’t seem like he was giving up, though it was clear he was reaching a breaking point. Donnie, ever the over-achiever, wanted to speed things up. He sent a claw from his battle shell to his brother’s knees, having it squeeze and scribble along the underside. That did him in. 

“K-GAHAHAHA! DOHOHONIEHEHE! *snrk* NAHAHAH!” Raph gave the purple-clad turtle a look, sighing. “The goal is to get the truth, Donnie, not kill him.” Dee just chuckled, continuing the metallic tickles. 

Kicking and thrashing like crazy, the teen finally reached his limit. “OHOHOKAHAHAY! IHI- *snrk* IHI’ll TEHEHELL!” 

And just like that, it all stopped.

Donnie begrudgingly retracted his tools, a small smile still on his face as he watched his little bro giggle. Leo followed suit, though Raph’s hand moved to the underside of the boy’s chin. He gently wiggled his fingers into the soft skin, chuckling as his little bro melted into the touch. His loud and bubbly laughter died down to soft, breathy giggles.

“Spill it, little man~” Raph practically purred as he said it, his tone softening with the next phrase. “We promise not to judge.” 

Mikey whined through his giggles, but didn’t squirm. Leo had long since released his arms; he just hadn’t noticed. “Uh-uhuhum…I wahanted to make youhuhu guhuys some d-dahanishehes for helpihing me throuhugh recovery.” He looked down, still not pulling away from the loving tickles. He’d never say it out loud, but he loved them.

“Ihi uhm… Ihihi kinda buhuhurned them. H-hahad a flare-up whehen they went ihin the ohohoven…” All three brothers’ expressions softened, even Donnie’s. The thought was incredibly sweet, and it wasn’t his fault his arms still hurt sometimes.

“Mikey…listen. We love ya. Even if you weren’t an awesome baker, we’d still take care of ya.” He continued to gently scritch under his chin, though the big guy limited it to one finger. Donnie jumped in, not making eye contact. “It’s not your fault you still get pains. Based on typical recovery times, you’re actually making exponential progress. Occasional aches are to be expected.”

“If you ever need anything, we’re all here for you. I could help with the baking and stuff, if you want.” Leo’s offer made his heart soar, as well as his other brothers’ kind words. Heartfelt moments like those would forever be cherished, especially that one.

He felt a few tears spring to his eyes, arms reaching for his bros’ hands. “Youhu guys are the behehest…” Raph stopped tickling, enveloping them all in a hug. Donnie whined, but he relaxed into the embrace. Mikey sighed, his heart full and the sadness from earlier in the day completely gone. He loved his brothers so freaking much…

[yacinthemorning]

Birdsongs

Chapter 7

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Summary: The Life Pilgrimage is the biggest music festival of the century, set to take place all across the continent. Small-time rock band, GIST, and the up-and-coming alternative band, Empire, are both lucky to be among the hundreds set to make appearances, but there's just one problem. Neither can afford the travel expenses on their own. For better or worse, they're stuck with each other for the next five weeks as they try to make their dreams come true.

And, perhaps, among the chaos and music, two unsuspecting souls find one another...

Ships: Jimmy/Tango (slow burn romantic), Joel/Lizzie (romantic), Jimmy & Scott (platonic)

Warnings: Alcohol, drugs, verbal fights, theft, divorce talk

Jimmy was driver for the second day in a row.

Not that he minded. Actually, he’d discovered so far he quite liked driving, especially the trailer. It felt satisfying, the movements the vehicles made when he turned the wheel or pressed on the brakes. He caught a lot more of the scenery when he had to concentrate, also. Time just passed by faster, more peaceful. One of the few times of this trip he could stop thinking.

It was a bit funny really, because he’d waffled on acquiring his license until college, so he hadn’t gotten to drive much as a teen. Then he’d gotten together with Scott. It wasn’t something they talked about, but even when they drove Jimmy’s car the keys always ended up in Scott’s hands. After moving back in with Lizzie he’d sold his car to cushion himself. Joel was the sort of guy who refused to let anyone touch his baby, so more often than not he was driven around or carpooled. Really, the fact that Jimmy was even allowed to drive the trailer seemed wild to him, but he was glad he was.

Especially now, with everyone so quiet.

The trailer bounced on the uneven country road. There was a whistle-like squeak and a thunk. Joel groaned. Between the lights being off and the shade of the forest outside Jimmy didn’t bother trying to check on him. He took a deep breath of the morning air as it rushed past the open window, letting his hand hang against the outside of the door. There was a hum on his tongue, but he kept his mouth shut to avoid fratricide.

Another bounce, another whistle, another groan.

Shuffling footsteps slowly approached, and this time Jimmy did check the mirror. It was Tango, eyes still shut and using the walls to navigate his way up until he flopped down into the passenger seat. Jimmy smiled, “Mornin’, sunshine.”

Tango let out a grunt, head reclined and face pulled tight around his nose as he tried to adjust to the bright window. He flicked his red sunglasses out of his pocket before even daring to try opening his eyes. “What sort of mutant are you to be so perky this early?” He muttered, eyes squinted. They scanned about until they landed on the half-folded map across the dash, and snatched it up.

“One who had seven AM classes and never readjusted.” He shrugged.

“That’s such a lie.” Wheezed Lizzie from somewhere in the back. Jimmy could picture her wagging finger. “You’ve always gotten up at unholy hours and I know you know it.”

“Hey! You would have never made it to band practice all of grade eleven and twelve if it weren’t for me!”

“Twas you whom sealed my fate, oh retched inhuman beast.”

“A thank you would be fine, you know!”

Thump, whistle, groan.

Tango snickered. “Alright, so where’s the hospital?”

“Should be a few miles up the road in another town.” He reached over, tapping a red H located on the map. “Another ten minutes probably. There’s a Ricky’s across the street from it so we can meet there for breakfast and sort all our stuff back into the right vehicles.”

The mention of food elicited a happy chorus from the zombie horde. Jimmy smiled and reached over the console for his water bottle before pushing it into Tango’s face. “I refilled all the ones I could find before disconnecting the water.”

Tango blinked, eyes dilating at the speed of molasses as his brain clicked back into reality. “Look at you, thinkin’ of everything. What’d we do without you?” He grinned and took the bottle. Jimmy felt his cheeks warm, back straightening up as he turned his attention onto the road.

Thump, whistle, groan.

His hold on the wheel tightened. “Well, all the responsible people are at the hospital, so someone has to do it.”

“I’m not sure going to the ER ‘cause of a bar brawl screams responsible.”

The bottle clunked back into the console, Tango scooting forward in his seat to lean his head back. Not on Jimmy’s watch. “Says the man without a seatbelt on.” He said, then cringed. It sounded so much more obnoxious when he said it aloud. If it bothered Tango he didn’t show it, fumbling for the belt with one hand and eyes closed.

“Ah well, stuff like this is gonna happen.” Tango said. “Better to get it out of our systems early, right? It’s all smooth sailing now.”

“Are you trying to dare the devil or something?” Joel interjected from his seat, giving voice to Jimmy’s thoughts.

But Tango waved him off, “What? That’s how you’re supposed to do it. Go wild the first little bit so everything after feels like a walk in the park! That’s how we’ve always done things, shakes off the nerves.”

Jimmy wasn’t so sure that’s how it worked, but he certainly hoped it was. As much fun as last night had been, it was probably for the best it was behind them.

A sign flashed by, almost too fast, telling Jimmy it was finally their turn off the freeway. Trees gave way to a town that was more of a giant truck stop, uncomfortably sparse with everything paved over, and enormous signs advertising fast food joints and gas prices heads above the tallest building. Actual homes were scattered further out in the hills or awkwardly dotted among the half-empty parking lots, their picket fences and old shingles all that was left of when the town must have been much quainter.

Their bandmates were already waiting for them outside the hospital, and five minutes later they were piling into Ricky’s for brunch. Judging from its proximity to the hospital and the fact that Jimmy could recognize several faces at the other tables, it probably wasn’t a surprised the waitress didn’t question why they all smelled worse than they looked. Scott managed to escape with only a split lip and bruise under his eye, his stitches being for a long cut up his forearm. Fwhip was not as lucky. Gem was already busy making fun of the man who looked like he’d been one with the bar floor mid-brawl. She was one to talk, given the black eye she sported. Jimmy was pretty sure he saw her nearly bite someone’s ear off, though, so he abstained from interrupting her.

With ten people their orders came in rounds. First came Pearl’s omelette with the works alongside Scott’s bennies and Skizz’s ridiculously huge grand breakfast that seemed to be three of everything. It was less ridiculous when Jimmy realized he was sharing with Impulse. Then came Gem’s clubhouse, Fwhip’s chicken tenders, and Lizzie’s fish and chips. After that was Joel’s bacon cheddar burger, and finally-

“Here you are, buttermilk pancakes.” The waitress announce cheerfully as she slipped one plate in front of Jimmy and another in front of Tango, placing a single plate with butter, strawberries, and maple syrup between them. Or, rather, directly in front of Joel, who was sat in the middle of them and giving Jimmy the most unimpressed look. It was his fault for insisting on sitting across from Lizzie instead of beside her.

Tango snatched up the butter, seemingly unsatisfied with the single square already atop it. In the process he all but pushed the strawberries onto Jimmy’s plate. More than fine by Jimmy. “So, Miss Manager, what’s the verdict on getting to the venue today?” He asked, giving Jimmy a thankful grin when he was passed the syrup that made Joel pretend to shove his knife down his throat to gag. Jimmy knocked his leg.

Pearl hummed until she could swallow. “Should still be able to make it if we just keep going, maybe ten or eleven?”

Just shy of twelve hours with breaks and dinner. “Y’okay to drive that long on your own?” Piped up Impulse, the only other person without a headache or head wound.

Jimmy nodded, “Think so.” He frowned, looking the man up and down. “Um, would you prefer to switch?” It may have been Impulse’s car, but it was still cramped compared to the trailer. Impulse waved him off, though.

“We need more buns and salad before we go.” Chimed Gem.

Skizz balked. “What? What happened to the tub of macaroni salad?”

“Someone left it out.”

“Hey, don’t look at me. I hate that stuff!”

“Sounds exactly like something someone who left it out would say.”

“Why does it matter? You didn’t have to throw it out, one night wouldn’t hurt it.”

“Um, ew? It absolutely would!”

“Yeah, I gotta agree, it’s pretty nasty...”

Joel smacked the syrup right out of Tango’s hand as he passed it over the shorter man’s head. It clattered to the table, rolling off into Jimmy’s lap. “Joel!” He shrieked, pushing up out of his chair. The case hooked over the back of his chair clattered loudly to the ground, wringing winces from those around him. Both his shirt and jeans were coated in sugar. Everyone paused in their arguments to watch Jimmy squirm in his own skin. The whole restaurant was, actually. Jimmy’s face turned beet red, grabbing a napkin to try and at least wipe down his arms, but the thin paper just curled and tore and created a worse mess. Joel just laughed.

“Here, dampen it.” At the very least Pearl tried to help, dabbing another napkin into an untouched glass of water, but it didn’t help much.

He sighed in resignation, and began to pick up his poor guitar. It was a delicate process not to get it coated as well. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

“We should find somewhere to do laundry, too.” He heard Scott say behind him. “Some of you have been wearing the same clothes for a few days now and you can smell it.”

Several individuals protest, all people Jimmy knew for certain qualified for that statement. He hurried along before he could get caught in the crossfire.

-

The dryers were taking their damn time.

Tango chalked it up to the things looking about thirty years old and beaten to crap by who-knows-who.

The washers rumbled under him, eyes glued to the ever spinning clothes. Goosebumps ran up his arms from the air conditioning, a constant reminder he was stuck in his undershirts and shorts. His own fault for throwing all his clothes into simultaneous loads. There was the softest tune under the hum of machines emanating from a portable radio in the staff booth echoed by his bass. He’d taken a page out of Jimmy’s book and brought it in with him. Of course, he wasn’t about to plug the thing in, lest the ancient temple’s Edwardian era wiring explodificate and leave them with nothing but wet clothes and sadness. That didn’t mean he couldn’t strum along to the Steve Miller Band while longingly watching the concrete outside bake.

“How does he do that?”

Tango let out a screech like a shot seagull, almost falling off the washer. When had Jimmy and Gem gotten here? How long had he spaced out? The two weren’t even paying Tango any attention while Jimmy slipped his case off his shoulder and popped it open. Gem dropped a grocery bag and hopped up on the washer beside him, enclosing the tallest between her and Tango, while he organized his fingers along the strings. “What?” Tango finally asked, grabbing the two’s attention.

“That little- like, the cat call.” He muttered, mimicking the whistle. Hands absently adjusted to what he thought might be the proper notes.

Gem reached out and adjusted his ring finger. “I’m pretty sure it’s that, then you just sorta...” She pulled away, air-guitaring the motion for him to copy. He did so, but without being plugged in it was hard to tell if he’d gotten it for certain.

Tango’s eyes followed the movement of his left hand. Theoretical tones played along in his brain. Too stiff. He scooted around until he was facing them. “Here.” He called for their attention. When Jimmy’s curios gaze shifted from Tango to his bass Tango showed his own attempt at the segment. One he’d done long ago but not since. Both guitarists had their eyes glued to his hands, making him second guess every single choice he’d ever made in life that put him here, thinking he could teach other people how to play their own instruments while in his skivvies in public.

They foolishly mimicked him anyways, pleased with whatever popped up in their own mind’s eye. Tango went back to strumming along with the actual bass. Gem happily jumped in as well. “I’m a joker, I’m a smoker, I’m a midnight toker, I get my lovin’ on the run,” she sang, too pretty. Jimmy quickly picked up after them on the guitar after a stumble in the first notes. Something Tango was beginning to suspect he was incapable of not doing. For someone who spent his time on stage just setting the beat, Tango thought Jimmy handled the solo better than expected. The lazy guitar was well out of his comfort zone, though, his movements still stiff.

Both men half-heartedly joined Gem’s singing as the song came to an end, her hands slapping the lid of the machines as some type of drum. Tango’s nose began to itch. The song faded out and the channel host piped up. At the same moment the machine Tango sat on ended its cycle, buzzing at him. All of it was drowned out by the loudest sneeze Tango had ever suffered, the force of which was enough to knock him right off his precarious perch. Enough to scare his companions.

“I think Skizz’s grandma heard that!” Gem laughed.

But Jimmy frowned, “Do you need a sweater?”

“S’in the dryer still.” He sniffled, trying to keep his eyes from watering.

That didn’t deter the guitarist, who went for their laundry bag, then stumbled outside towards the trailer when he didn’t find what he was looking for. Tango wondered if he even noticed he still had his guitar around his neck, case abandoned. Another machine buzzed, this time a dryer.

“He’s definitely going to bump off the doorway.” Gem whispered. On cue, Both ends of Jimmy’s poor guitar slammed into either side of the trailer, almost throwing Jimmy to the ground. He stood there, confused, before he hugged his guitar to his shoulder and went in sideways. Tango raised an amused eyebrow towards Gem, who was trying not to laugh too loud. “Oh, silly Jimmy.”

“Can’t say I wouldn’t do the same.” Tango tried to defend even as he also began to giggle. He absently grabbed for the laundry bag and yanked open the dryer. The warmth soaked into his skin.

Gem rolled her eyes and sent him a pointed, unimpressed look. “That’s ‘cause you’re also a silly goose.”

“Guilty as charged.” He couldn’t exactly defend himself on that one. So, he changed the subject. “You two play well together.”

There was a hum Tango thought might have been agreement. “We picked up guitar around the same time, so we learned together from my mum.”

He’d heard it before. How Gem had gone from only wanting to sing as a kid to feeling embarrassed it was all she could do in her teens. Nothing wrong with expanding your horizons, he had told her. As often as Tango experimented with new instruments he always wandered back to his bass.

“You were part of Empire, then?” He asked.

Gem shrugged, “Not really? I mean, we played together and Lizzie and Scott were writing some songs, but the band didn’t really exist yet. They talked about it a lot but I don’t know, guess I knew from the start I wouldn’t end up playing with them.” She grinned, “I have way more fun with you guys, anyways!”

Maybe it was just his imagination guilt tripping him, but it felt like there was something almost determined and a bit desperate in her last statement. He looked away. “It’s been fun playing with you too, Glitter Girl.”

The door creaked open, and Jimmy tripped through it. One hand held his guitar flush to his chest, while the other was wrangling a familiar blanket that had been rapidly unfolding itself. “I couldn’t- Scott wouldn’t let me mess with the clothes he already folded, but...”

“Thanks, partner.” Tango smiled, letting the man throw it over Tango’s shoulders like a cape. He didn’t bother to mention that he now had access to several pieces of his own clothes. It couldn’t hurt to wait for the second load. What was he going to do, suddenly be even more embarrassed than he already was? Besides, the blanket had trapped its fair share of warmth from the dryer, and Tango was very quickly sinking deeper into it.

 Jimmy’s smile was shy, cheeks just slightly rosy, before he turned towards his guitar case. Leaned out of the way, Tango got a clear view of Gem once more, who had her clasped hands to her cheek and was making kissy faces at Tango. Like the responsible adult he was he stuck his tongue out at her. She giggled. Well, at least he had company now.

-

It was ten to eleven when they rolled into the next venue. They were lucky to do so, as check in would close for the day after eleven. The very grumpy and tired staffer was particularly adamant on reminding them of that fact through the entire process. They made it, though, and they parked in their place. A gravel lot used for parking, with no room for much else between vehicles. Worse yet, there was separate designated spaces for cars and trailers, so the car wound up a quarter of a mile away. It all sucked, to be frank, but it also didn’t matter. Everyone was too tired and too excited to care. Everyone except Scott, at least, who was already preparing a speech that would make whatever poor worker he would confront tomorrow morning about these inconveniences wish they were never born.

For the rest of them, though, it was bed time.

By this point in their journey, Jimmy had become used to waking up wrapped around Tango. It was cold at night and the man was practically a furnace, sue him. The sun had yet to rise, but there was a subtle thumping from the bathroom before Scott walked out, sans makeup or patience. His exhausted glare landed on Jimmy and warped into a raised eyebrow. Jimmy’s face turned pink, rolling over and burying it into Tango’s hair. No confrontation came of it, only a snort. Still, he waited until the door rattled close. Someone else in the trailer groaned, but no one got up.

After a long moment of debate, Jimmy decided to begrudgingly get up. Someone should make breakfast, and he was on a usefulness streak lately. When he sat up, though, Tango’s face scrunched and he was pulled in tighter. Jimmy muffled a snort, “I’m not your teddybear, you know.” he murmured to the sleeping man. A pillow seemed to suffice as a replacement for Tango. It did not do so for Jimmy himself, who was now surrounded by freezing morning air and clinging to his equally cold guitar. Right, sweater first, then teeth.

Ten minutes later Jimmy made it out of the trailer without waking anyone else. Scott was, predictably, nowhere to be seen. Whoever their neighbour was to be had yet to arrive, so Jimmy got to work pulling out the folding table.

The smell of coffee woke someone up. Jimmy was halfway through setting up chairs when something inside slammed against the wall. That, or someone went face first into the bathroom door. Pearl’s face poked out the door, hair still twirled up in a braid and a sheepish smile on her face. “How’s it going out here?” She half-whispered.

“Was about to mix up scrambled eggs.” He explained, motioning towards the table. Milk, cheese, and the whole carton of eggs patiently waited next to an unopened tray of breakfast sausages and bag of hash browns. “We got some miniwheats if you want something now, though.”

“I can wait.” She flopped down into one of the folding chairs, next to the one Jimmy’s guitar was leaned in. He threw her an orange juice at the very least. “So, where’d Scott run off to?”

Jimmy tilted his head, frowning. Not that he was an expert, but that was most certainly not Pearl’s usual tone. She was focused on getting the straw into her juice box when he looked to her, though. Was he still half asleep? “He’s-”

“Right here.”

Now that tone Jimmy was an expert in. Tired, cranky, and done with everything, but, like, while still covered in glitter and a spotlight. There was no way to tell if he was actually enraged or just wanted to put on a show. Either way, Jimmy counted down with perfect timing to Scott’s hand slamming against the table and letting out the world’s longest sigh. “The organizers at this venue are absolutely incompetent.” He whined, head lulling dramatically as though he’d been shot. A show it was.

“Oh really? How so?” Pearl indulged.

“Well, by not even being awake yet, for one.”

“It’s six AM, mate. Give ‘em at least until eight, there’s like five people here at this point.”

Scott pouted, glancing off into the distance as if he was really considering it until he huffed. “I’m awake now, though, and I want to give them a piece of my mind.”

“A piece, or the whole pie.” Jimmy teased, pointing the whisk at him before turning towards the eggs.

There was a gasp, “Jimmy! Of course not.” There was an odd quiet moment that followed. One that had Jimmy worried until he heard the hash brown bag shake. His head shot up in time to watch Scott place the frozen bag back into the cooler.

“Hey!”

“They’ll thaw.” Was his only explanation before he went to sit down.

Jimmy’s nose scrunched up in annoyance. “They’re just hash browns, it’s not a big deal.”

“I don’t want to have to buy a whole new bag like the salad.”

Another protest almost left his lips, but they clamped shut as he watched Scott run his hands over his face. Bags under his eyes and bruises all over his arms still. You said it yourself, it’s just hash browns, not a big deal. He went back to preparing the egg mixture and setting the table, waiting for more folks to awaken. If Scott needed to stick his nose in things to get over his mood it wasn’t his business.

Pearl had much stronger words for him from what Jimmy could make out from her tone, though too quiet to catch much of what it was. Given he heard something about punching Jimmy guessed it was about the bar still. He snorted, good luck with that. Scott had always been a messy drunk, like one of those toy cars. The tighter he wound during the day the worse it was when he let go. Something people had to learn on their own, he supposed.

Some time later Impulse and skizz tumbled out of the trailer, perkier than any of them, and Jimmy was finally allowed to pull the hash browns out of the cooler.

Jimmy was sitting with his chin up on his guitar when Tango stumbled out, last of the whole bunch and clinging to the pillow Jimmy had left him with like a lost child. He caught sight of Jimmy and beamed a toothy grin his way even as he shivered like a leaf in the cold morning air. Whatever was left of Jimmy’s earlier sour mood flew away. “Anything left for me?” He asked.

Skizz answered, putting sombre hands on the sleepy man’s shoulders. “You know what they say, Top. Early bird gets the worm. I’m afraid you’ll have to starve.”

“I made you a plate already.” Jimmy announced, pulling the pot lid off the plate sat behind him and holding it out. “You’ll have to make the toast, though, if you want any.”

A smug little noise left Tango along with a matching look towards Skizz, “Thank you, and that I do.” He then turned to the toaster and spun the dial all the way up to charcoal levels. That, Jimmy mused, was a practice he could never get behind. But to each their own, he supposed.

Then something whistled.

There was no thump.

And others paused.

“Okay, what is that?” Joel hissed as he approached the tires. “There a leak?”

“Never heard a leak sound like that.” Impulse chimed in with concern and joined him. Jimmy pulled his case closer.

Another whistle. Another no thump.

That one had Pearl, Scott, and Skizz all joining in the search for the defect. Lizzie worried the hem of her shirt. “Oh gosh we only just got to the second venue. I hope nothing’s broken.”

“You okay?” Tango asked, and it took Jimmy a moment to realize it was directed at him. He shrugged back and buried his face in his case.

“It’s from in here!” Skizz called out. The storage lock clicked open. “Kinda sounds like- WOAH, HEY!”

The whistle turned into a frantic flurry of chirps and rattles. Someone nearby gasped.

“What in the world-”

“Is that a bloody bird?”

“Oh my god!”

“Stop! Don’t open it!”

“Who would...”

“Put it down, put it down!”

Metal clanged against the gravel lot. Jimmy finally peeled himself apart enough to peek out at the scene. Most of the two bands were surrounding a painted cage, where a little yellow bird was flitting about in a panic. Instantly three sets of eyes turned onto him instead. Lizzie, Joel, and Scott.

“Jimmy.” Scott said with great strain.

Jimmy shrunk away, face twisted. “What?”

“I couldn’t help notice you don’t seem all that surprised.”

“Wait a minute, I’ve seen this before.” Skizz interrupted them both, kneeling down next to the cage. “There was something just like this in a house next to the park.”

Lizzie’s hands went to her hips. “James Solidarity, did you steal a bird? Don’t you lie to me!”

“No!” He lied.

Joel’s hands went to his hair, a humourless laugh escaping. “Dude, what the heck, you didn’t even drink! Why did you steal a bird?”

“I don’t know!” He curled his whole body around his guitar. “I was just- everything was really exciting and- look, I’m not the one who got stabbed with a broken bottle!”

“Uh, this ain’t about me right now, dude.” Fwhip muttered, though he nudged out of the circle to hide behind his bandmates.

While his own bandmates continued shouting GIST stood to their own side, caught between shock and amusement. At least Impulse and Gem seemed shocked. Tango was doubled over, cackling like a madman, while Skizz tried to hide his giggles and failed miserably. “Oh this is too good.” He said. Pearl had her own hand over her mouth, impossible to tell what his emotions were except from the wrinkles in the corner of her eyes. None seemed angry. It made Jimmy feel much better, if he could only block out the yelling from his peers.

He launched forward, spurred on by a new wave of confidence, “Look, I know it was stupid-”

“Stupid barely begins to cover it.” Scott drawled, rolling his eyes. “What are we supposed to do, now? We can’t just bring it back, we’re on a schedule. And what if someone saw you? Did you think this through at all?” His foot was going against the gravel, letting Jimmy know how close he was to the end of the fiddler’s nerves. For once it only put more coals on the fire. It was Scott’s fault in the first place for his own stress, he had no right to put it on Jimmy like he was the only one who did something stupid in the last few days.

No, it was entirely unfair. “Everyone’s made a fool of themselves, why are you singling me out?”

Scott gaped. Wrong answer. “Because there is currently a fucking bird in our trailer right now! That you stole and that I’m going to have to clean up!” He snapped, throwing his hands at the cage and then at Jimmy. “Why are you always like this!”

Everyone quieted. GIST’s giggles died while Empire’s various reactions all settled into concern. The indignation had fizzled out from Jimmy’s heart as well, leaving him stubbornly silent as his face heated. Scott’s chest heaved, glaring Jimmy down and oh, if looks could kill he’d be nothing but minced meat ground deep into the mud. It’s about what he felt like in that moment.

Fwhip was the first to dare break the silence, placing a hand on Scott’s shoulder that was promptly thrown off. “Hey, it’s fine. I’ll just take the car and bring the bird back.”

“No, you won’t.” Scott hissed. He tore a lighter out of his pocket. “You need to be here to sell our CDs and manage contacts while we’re performing, and you can’t do that if you’re busy a day’s drive away searching for the owner on your own, because Skizz and Jimmy are not going back with you.” As he rambled his grip shook and the cigarette he fumbled with snapped in half. It was thrown to the ground, “Fuck’s sakes...”

“Hey, buddy, calm down.” Tango interjected. He was silenced with a single side eye, but Pearl took his place.

“Look, this is entirely fixable. If Fwhip can’t go then I will, and if not we’ll find another solution. It’s not the end of the world.”

If Scott heard her he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead he stomped off towards a neon green trailer down the way, leaving the group caught in the awkward atmosphere. When some of the eyes turned to Jimmy he took up examining the gravel under his own feet.

“Well, that... was a lot.” Impulse chuckled.

Tango snorted. “A lot of bullshit.”

“Tango!”

“What? It’s true!”

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s come over him.” So started Fwhip’s apologizing, rambling on explanations to avoid their bands’ collective embarrassment. Jimmy could still feel his blood simultaneously boiling and frozen in his veins and did not bother to contribute.

A delicate hand landed on his arm, Lizzie’s eyes wide and glossy. “Are you okay, Jim?”

He shook off the touch and went to grab the cage, and bolted for the door. The moment it shuttered behind him muffled conversation picked up outside, audibly tense. Instead, he put the bird down on the counter, crawled into the safety of bed, and pulled his case into his lap. The leather was cold against his forehead, cooling his quick breaths before they buffeted back against his throat.

This was inevitable. They all knew it, it wasn’t like five whole adults were completely oblivious to the winding key that had been tightening since the start of this trip. Since the divorce, really. Or maybe before. Probably before. It still hurt.

Free from the dark the bird began to chatter. What seemed so soothing days ago grated against the last shreds of Jimmy’s composure. “Shut up.” He tried to snap but it came out more like begging. Of course, he canary had no idea. The chirps continued on. He thought he might be able to feel them scraping against his brain. It was probably thirsty and hungry, the kinder part of him reminded. He didn’t want to be kind right now, though. It was all he could do not to find something to throw at the cage.

The door shook. Jimmy didn’t look up, but he recognized the sound of heavy steel-toe boots by now. There was the smallest sound of a breath catching, but no words followed. Instead the bird cage rattled, agitating both the canary and Jimmy. “Here, find some food for it or something.” The bassist whispered to someone before the canary’s cries became distant. Jimmy knew from the way the trailer tipped that Tango had not left with it, but nor had he entered further than needed to close the door. He was probably waiting for some sign from Jimmy, whether to go away or not. Not a question Jimmy was sure he had an answer to quite yet.

“You want breakfast?” Tango asked instead.

Jimmy wanted to say no, but his stomach protest. He shrugged. The trailer shook and a box thunked against the counter. At first he assumed Tango was pouring cereal until he heard the faucet and something scraping. That was apparently enough to get Jimmy to peek. Butter hit the frying pan, and he watched half-baffled, half-fascinated, as Tango poured batter into it soon after.

Cooking took only a few minutes. Really, with the instant mix it was amazing how quickly it could go. Inevitably, the fire alarm went off, startling both of them. Tango grumbled and hissed while waving a towel around. It didn’t take long, but just long enough for Jimmy to loosen the tight ball he’d pulled himself into. Giant boots still on, Tango sat down on the bed next to Jimmy and handed him the pancakes past his guitar.

They sat in silence through the first half, Jimmy slowly shovelling bites that were a bit too big into his mouth while Tango looked at everything but him. Eventually, though, the guitarist remembered his manners. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Tango assured, even though it certainly was.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” He said instead.

It got a shrug and a shift to a more comfortable position on the bed, accepting the silent invitation. “Every bands’ been there. Can’t tell you how many times me and Skizz have yelled at each other.”

“But not like that.” Guessed Jimmy, which from the look on Tango’s face he was right. He sighed and set his plate aside. “He’s never yelled at me before.”

“Really?” There was a skeptical eyebrow raised.

“Yes.” Jimmy shut down immediately, though his full reply took another moment to gather his thoughts. “Silent treatment, passive aggressive comments, but we’ve never yelling. Not seriously. Never had a fight.”

“Nothing at all?”

He paused. In the grand scheme of things, Tango was still a stranger. All of GIST except Gem were, really. Having someone new to talk to was great, and Jimmy wasn’t clever enough to deny his growing fondness for Tango, but he was still mostly a stranger. One who didn’t need dragging into their band’s silly interpersonal drama. Maybe, though, that Pandora ’s Box was already ripped wide open, given the incident that just occurred. If they were going to be stuck with it for the next month they at least deserved to know a bit more.

Or maybe Jimmy was just looking for an excuse to let it all out on some poor guy who was a bit too nice to him. His tongue made the choice for him, beginning to spill out the story before he thought anymore about it. “You know there wasn’t a fight even at the end?”

Tango perked up, attention fully turning on him now with a sombre expression.

“I just- there never was. I remember thinking now and then about what getting a divorce might take. Scott’s the one who organized all the marriage stuff. There’s probably something poetic in there or something.” He let out a humourless laugh. “But, one day I just sort of... did it. Nothing happened. Normal day. I just called up and asked after work, and then I had the paperwork in my hands.”

He could picture the scene quite clearly, not from that specific day but from how many times he walked through that side door. The teal paint that was beginning to chip, the colourful fish themed wind chime, the tall trashcan he always caught his jacket on no matter how many times he passed it. “Scott was sitting at the table writing a song or something. I put them down beside him and asked if he could sign them. Think he already knew, not like I do much paperwork stuff. He didn’t say anything, though. Just read it like I was handing him a flyer or anything else. I don’t know if he really was fine with all it said, it was pretty heavy in his favour since I was the one with family nearby and the house and car were his to start. But he signed it. Four minutes of reading and he just signs it and hands it back.”

“After that was like the most normal conversation in the world, too. Asked when I wanted to move out, when he should call Joel and Lizzie to come over, if I had boxes yet.” And Jimmy had replied much the same back. Of course, he knew what was going on in his own head at the time. A whole lot of nothing and everything all at once that made the rest of the day pass in a blur until he was in the spare room at Lizzie’s. It took a day before he finally had his first breakdown over it, and of course it had to be at the dinner table in front of both his sister and brother-in-law. “We didn’t see each other for two weeks, and then we were back in his studio, practising for a gig that was coming up. It was like none of it ever happened. Talked about it one more time, wrote a song about it as you do, just to get it out of our system. Peachy after that.”

“That’s a lot to just sweep under the rug.” Tango finally interjected, brow pressed into a stressed line. Saying it out loud, Jimmy understood. The whole thing was ridiculous.

He leaned back, letting his guitar fall off beside him. “But we never yelled at each other.”

A particular loose thread in the blanket had captured Tango’s attention at some point, long enough for his finger to have gotten under the weave and pulled it further. He’d turned his full awareness onto it now, unlooping his finger and trying to smooth it out despite how long gone it was. Jimmy began to think maybe Tango wasn’t the person he should be talking to about this, that it should be Lizzie, or maybe some random person in a bar. Someone who wasn’t straddling the line, unquestionably on Jimmy’s side of things.

He had the sudden urge to assure that Scott was a great guy, it was both their fault things fell apart, that he was normally kind and funny. Anything that might leave Tango with a better impression than yelling and binning a seven year relationship and three year marriage without a fuss. It didn’t make it out of his head though, past the fog of annoyance that stubbornly clung to him. Deep down he knew he wanted Tango to join him in being spiteful and angry, some sort of external assurance it was okay. Either side being validated would make him just feel like crap.

Yeah, he definitely shouldn’t have chosen Tango to talk to. He was going to blame the pancakes, who wouldn’t blab after that?

It took him a moment to register Tango was speaking again, after an eternity of silence. “You wrote a song about it?”

Jimmy shrugged, patted his case. “Quick thing in like twenty minutes. Fixed it up here and there, but it’s still pretty awful. Bunch of self-indulgent metaphors and stuff.” Scott had joked, once, that it was an example of why he and Lizzie were the lyricists and Jimmy just played guitar.

“Do you play it?”

“Just with each other.” In fact, he could count on his hands the number of times they’d played it. “Whenever things get a bit tense. Don’t think either of us brought our copy along.”

“Does it help?”

At that Jimmy had to pause. Did it? Sometimes. It helped them get back into the groove of working together in the band, reminded Jimmy they weren’t just husbands, but friends and bandmates. It probably wasn’t what they needed specifically, but it did something. So, he replied, “Yeah.”

“That’s good.” Tango said genuinely. “Maybe you guys should do that then? I don’t know, sorry, I’m not very good at this sorta thing.”

He laughed. “No, you aren’t. I thought you were going somewhere with that.”

“Listen, I’m trying!” Tango threw his hands up. “I mean if I were you I woulda knocked the guys’ teeth out, got the daylights knocked outta me back, and never showed my face again. I might still do that anyways, who knows.”

“Aw, don’t do that, I’d miss you.” Jimmy bumped his shoulder into the others, trying hard not to keep giggling.

A smirk stretched across Tango’s face, eyebrows jumping up to where Jimmy worried about the piercings in them pulling at the skin. “Oh is that the part wrong with that? Maybe you aren’t as forgiving a guy as you seem.”

“Nope, I’m an angel.”

“I’d believe it.” Tango got up. “Point is, I talk a lot and don’t say much. You two seem to have a lot to say, though, that you don’t like talking about. Can’t be to good for your noggins. Or your music.”

Jimmy sighed, and accepted the hand held out towards him that pulled him up out of bed. “No, probably not. I wouldn’t know where to start, though.”

“That one is definitely outta my pay grade. You’ll have to upgrade to Skizz or something. I’m just bozo over here.”

As he said it he reached up and squeezed his own nose, making a strange noise that took Jimmy far too long to realize was supposed to be honking. He barked, slapping a hand over his mouth. “Oh my gosh, what was that?”

“Hey! Don’t laugh at my joke!”

Jimmy burst, doubling over.

The door opened, interrupting their laughter. Joel poked his head in, looking wary only for a moment before he got a good look at Jimmy and his shoulders visibly dropped. “You guys okay in here?” He asked anyways.

“Think so?” Tango replied, gaze darting back to Jimmy, who nodded.

“That’s good. Couple of us were going to go get a look at the stages while Pearl talked to the organizers. You feeling up to coming along, Jim?”

He suddenly became painfully aware of how cramped and stuffy the trailer was, now that everything seemed lighter. “Yeah, okay.”

They were filing out when, “Oh, hey, Jimmy?”

Jimmy turned, watching as Tango’s hand hooked around the strap of Jimmy’s guitar case and lifted it up off the bed, holding it out towards him in question. A hand flew to Jimmy’s shoulder, and he blinked. “Thanks.” He muttered, taking the guitar and throwing it back into its usual place. It never felt so light.

Tango grinned, and slapped him on the back. “Alright, let’s go!”

[steviewashere]

No One You Can Save That Can't Be Saved (Love)

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Lots of talk around death, Vague suicidal thoughts (seriously very vague) Tags: Post-Canon, Post-Season 4, Established Relationship, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Steve Harrington has Nightmares, Panic Attack, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Cuddling & Snuggling, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Introspective, Fear of Death

I don't know what this is. I wrote the opening poem and then wrote the rest. Enjoy, I guess? Title is from "All You Need is Love" by The Beatles.

This is also on ao3, but it's not showing up currently in the Steddie tag. If you'd like to read this in full on ao3 instead, Here's the Link!

💕—————💕 I’ve had no desire to die. None in my body. But if you told me to die, I’d ask: Who for? Where should I lay my body? Like this? I’d perfect it. I’d make a gala out of it. I’d win. Blood on my hands and flesh between my teeth; I am not dead. But— Death is intimate with me. I have no desire to die.

——— The grass pearls with early morning dew. Tacky soil shapes to the bottom of his left sneaker. He takes a step forward, the imprint of his posture a temporary fixture in the lawn. If it rains again, the divots of his soles will collect water like cupped palms. Though the day will surely pass while he stays inside, working the nightmare from his musk scented skin, and he’ll return home dead on his feet. Ready to lay himself bare to a cooling bedsheet.

Tapping his sneakers on the doorway of his vehicle is the first thing he does fresh from his house. Shake the dew from his feet, shuffle inside until his legs are tucked gently under the steering wheel, slam the door shut, turn the engine over, and wait for the radio to croon. If he had the time, he’d pick a tape. But on mornings like these, he backs out of the driveway. One arm on the headrest of the passenger seat. Head peering over his shoulder.

One time he hit the neighbor’s mailbox. His cheeks remember the anger radiating from his father. If even one tire begins to turn incorrectly, he pulls back in and tries again.

Desolate roads are his favorite bit of scenery. Morning drives where people are between waking up and already at work. Long stretches of asphalt against his tires and breeze icing his cheek. It’s the quiet, too. Silences in lulls. Reaching out and holding him.

Today is different. His sneakers are wiped and his legs are burrowed and the cold air reaches his cheek. But today is like no other. Heart racing, blood chilling in his wrists, fingers going numb. The tendrils of a nightmare wrapping around his brain like thorned vines on dungeon walls. He is a prisoner to himself and his surroundings. And he can’t take a deep breath. It’s like drowning, but nothing is like drowning. Drowning is death. This isn’t death. Everything is death.

It’s death in the way his breath tastes like finality. Mouth dry of saliva and teeth as specters, rotting and decaying before he has time to fully swallow. The heave before the storm. Before the vomit goes beige on his thighs and chunky to the floor of his car. And it’s death in the sense there’s blood every time he blinks. He’s reminded of the way he played role as emergency room technician. Two hands on a slim chest, ribs crackling under his palms—the sounds similar to that of heavy tree branches downed in an Indiana snow storm. He is numb in the fingers, but cold on the palms. And it’s the darting in his eyes, sign of life somewhere, sign of life nowhere. The road stretches forever this morning.

It’s death in the harrowing way. A car beelining for the side of a road. Parked in the means to brake, but not to settle. He is thirty seconds away from a crash. Turbulent planes flying overhead, he is an unsuspecting tree. The cat between his front two tires. Mushed traces of squirrel guts half a foot from the base of a robin’s nest; crushed eggs fallen to the floor. It’s death because there is the phantom tail of a bat pinning him to the headrest of his seat. Wrapped to the two metal bars below the bottom of his skull. And his hands are tingling, heavy on his lap. Kicking his legs, feet lurching into the brake, a squeal when his car takes the movement as instruction. He’s not ready to go.

But he can’t escape. And he can’t move. Can’t blink unless the road crumbles below him.

He is trapped. This is death because he’s dying and he’s got the black spots in his vision to prove it, but there is an overbearing glow of a white light like a cone on his peripheral. He is trapped—a dog free from the vet.

Clinking on his window draws him to look left. Blearily. The slow drag of his eyeballs. Two weather vanes in stilted, hazy, sticky summer stillness. Muffled. This is death because he’s forgotten what urgent care sounds like, but this is a near thing.

He’s not ready to go.

It’s death because there is warmth and gentleness. He cries—though it isn’t felt—because there is love. And while love is not absent, he had been chasing it. Longing and yearning. Giving himself in ways not even God would approve of. This time, though, it makes sense he had to die for it.

“You’re not dying, sweetheart,” a pleasant voice says. If Death is speaking, then he is listening. Death has two hands and warm breath and a husk gargled in his throat like sucking down cigarettes on and off for four hours. The stale smell of one smoked swirls in his nostrils. “Not dying, you’re just far away. And scared,” Pleasant Voice speaks again. It’s accompanied by a faint tickle under his eye. He closes up, lost in the sensation.

It’s death because he doesn’t desire, but he is persuaded. God, it’s sweet.

He takes a deep breath. The hurt is temporary as it seems like shards shed from his lungs. Nosing at his headrest, the perfumed scent of floral shampoo and fragrant salty sweat and those cigarettes. It relaxes him slightly, the tail away from his throat. The breathing comes easier and the black spots begin to dissipate. He’s reminded of the aftermath of torture, sleeping fitfully in bed, but alive. And he chases his nose to the left, body twisting around on his seat, hands limp on his legs still.

Pleasant Voice seems to hum. Murmuring low, raspier than before, “Easy, you’ll be okay. Doing a good job relaxing. I’ve got you, sweetheart.” Another careful pet to underneath his eye. “I’m here. I’ve got you.” And a caress through his hair, two hands cupping him like water. He ripples with contentment. Crumpling against the pleather seat. He swallows. An uneasy emotion, a vapor, noxious poison billowing through his nose.

His eyes flutter open again. In front of him, two brown irises. Both gentle and concerned, deathly afraid and lowering their haunches. He blinks. Clarity. And he had expected to die, but it’s like drinking ice cold water, coming back to life from the warmth of an early summer’s day. “Eddie?” Steve chokes. “What’re—Eddie?”

Eddie—not Death—smiles a sad thing. Two frowning corners, but the gentle uptick of his lips. His eyes don’t crinkle. And his nose remains stagnant. “It’s me,” he whispers. “I was on my way into town from the trailer and I saw you on the side of the road. Looked like—Thought you were—I was half expecting your skin to be green when I came closer.”

“What does that—“

“I thought you were dead, Steve,” he answers bluntly. His hand tightens on Steve’s jaw, the other pressing closer to his scalp. “Baby, that was horrifying. I wasn’t ready—Why are you out here driving?”

Steve shakes his head. The low ruffle of his hair like two pieces of paper being scrubbed together. “I don’t remember,” he mutters, “I woke up and—My throat was aching and I thought that—Woke up with blood behind my eyelids, Eds.” He tries to swallow again, but the emotion rises. Bile. Pleasantly like bile. Then, he bursts. Crying and keening. Hiccuping through his gasps and breathing as if there are rocks on his tongue. And he isn’t sure where to put his hands, but the rest of his body falls forward into Eddie’s. Though, maybe it was on purpose. An expectancy. Because Eddie wraps back fiercely, tugging, half-climbing inside of Steve’s car. Making the room for this coagulated form of welling fear and quelled calm, the body shivers and sudden blood to his cheeks, a cough caught somewhere between a sob and an expel. It’s death because he’s frightened, Eddie is in there somewhere, too.

Eddie keeps tugging until they’re comfortable in the back of his van. Him on his lap, curled inwards in the fetal position, secured warmly between Eddie’s lithe arms. Somehow containing him. He’s not strong, he’s not weak, but he’s enough to keep Steve’s pieces all mushed in together. Not completely whole, but not spiraling like thread between lengths of road.

He’s worn when he pulls back. Eyes as two cement blocks taped above his cheeks. “Thought I was dying,” he finally croaks.

With a somber gentleness, Eddie pushes back strings of his hair. Whispers, “I know, baby. You kept telling me in your car.”

“I was afraid.”

“I know, baby.”

“I think a part of me thought you were dying, too.”

Eddie hums. “Did you have a nightmare about…About having to save me?” He quietly asks. He’s never breeched the subject before, but it’s different. Today’s different. It’s death because he has to answer.

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs. Sniffles noisily. The carnage stuffed high between his brain and sinus cavity. “I couldn’t feel my hands. Back in the car. They were completely numb. But—No, that’s not right. My palms were cold like your skin. And I couldn’t hear you at first, just your ribs. And then I—“ He stops to shake his head. Tilting it down towards his chest. Plucking at the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt. He’s fully dressed in casual wear in comparison to Steve’s outfit. Still worn down to his stained Hawkins High gym shirt from early last year, the fall of his senior year, and his red tartan fleece pajama pants. “Think I was searching for you and just didn’t make it.”

“I’m here now,” Eddie simply responds. He pets again at Steve’s face. He likes to do that. Never condescending. As if part of him can’t believe he gets to touch. Or another part can read just how much Steve needs it. It’s death because he’s known. “How about I get you home? Back in bed?”

“Don’t think I’ll sleep.”

“Okay,” he mutters, nodding. “Okay, how about you sit with me today back at the trailer? I’ve got to fill out some job applications. It’ll be quiet. You can bring a few tapes from your car, play them if you like. And I’ll make you hot chocolate. Does that sound…?” Steve’s nodding before he can even finish the question. “Alright, baby. You’ll be okay, you know that? I’m here right now. And you’ll be with me.”

“I’ll be with you,” Steve murmurs.

“Yeah, sweetheart. And if you need a reminder, you can just look at me. Or…Ask me to tell you a story. You like that, don’t you?” Steve nods again. Eddie pets the crest of his head, down to the tuft of hair on the back of his neck, dipping into his t-shirt to settle his palm between his taut shoulder blades. He twitches when he fully sets his palm. “You have your thinking face on. What’s going on up here?” He asks, tapping at Steve’s left temple.

Steve swallows. “I—I’m afraid of death.”

“I know, sweetheart. That’s okay, you—“

“But I’m more afraid of everybody else dying,” he admits. “I’d die for you. I’d…I think part of me died for you.”

A sharp intake of breath. “Baby, I don’t like that.”

“I don’t like it either. But it’s true. Feels like…I feel like a lot of me has died. For everybody around me.” His voice is shameful, but flat. Tepid and shaking. “But I let it happen. I wasn’t fighting against the urge. It just—I allowed myself to experience death. Either it was my own or somebody else’s. At every turn, I was expecting to be incinerated. Dissolved. Turned over in the ground like recycled soil. I don’t—“ He sighs through his nose. Confesses, “I’d do it again.”

“I really don’t like that, Steve. Is this—Are you asking for help? What do you need, sweetheart?” He’s not sure what Eddie’s eyes look like right now. There’s an infliction, though. A steady storm of concern and mild trepidation. Hands flat and pressing as if he’s willing them to stay rooted to their spots in the back of his van.

Steve doesn’t answer immediately. Blinking and exhaling and shoving the images that haunted him into early morning to just…die, oddly. Allowing Eddie’s gentle touch to soothe his frayed nerves. He collapses further in the lap underneath him. “Don’t go. I’m not ready for you to go.” 

He toys his hands in his lap now. Fingers picking and prodding at healed scabs. Hangnails that were chewed short by his fingernails. Knuckles that have scarred over and over, time and time again. “Don’t go,” he reiterates, whispering. His voice is keening. And he knows that it’s sort of childish, what he’s requesting. Tugging on Eddie’s pant let and wrapping his limbs around his ankle. Thumb in cheek and eyes wet. But though the events of the last few years have manhandled him and stretched him thin like a mushed ball of murky colored Play-Doh, he is immature still. He can beg if he wants to.

And thankfully, Eddie appeases. Pressing again into Steve. In a way, he’s afraid, too. “I won’t, Steve. I promise that I won’t go willingly. But you have to promise me back.”

“I promise,” he immediately mutters.

“Okay,” Eddie says. A default in conversations like these. 

‘I have a migraine.’ ‘Okay.’ ‘Just need silent company.’ ‘Okay.’ ‘Don’t die again.’ ‘Okay.’ 

He holds Steve tighter. Bending in a prairie dog way to kiss his forehead. Murmuring sticky wet against the skin, “Love you, sweetheart.”

Steve sighs through his nose. This is all going to come up again and again. He’s sure of it. Later today, he’s sure. When he’s half there and half in the dark crevices, the depths of his brain, caverns without crystals. And Eddie will be there, too. As a rescue team, sent far down with nothing but a pickaxe and harsh, yellow rope. They’ll have to talk about it. What he means about doing it again, even though he didn’t die. That significant emptiness that shapes itself like craters in his chest. Or how it all coincides with facing so much with such little time, his self worth and respect like forks in a garbage disposal; clinking and whirring and dancing, then shredding and grating and screeching, and so irreversibly broken, they can’t be eaten off of anymore. And then he’ll probably have to see a therapist, explain what he told Eddie, and listen to suggestions.

For now, he dips forward until his forehead is on Eddie’s shoulder. Nose crushed against his shirt. He closes his eyes as he takes in the scent of an alive and well Eddie. A part of him wants to apologize for all this mess he’s left construed about. But knows the moment he even tries, he will soothed into much needed silence. “Will you hold my hand while you drive?” He murmurs into the base of Eddie’s neck. He’s still crumpled and misshapen, but somehow also held. Held in a way that reminds him of being a little kid. Cherished through fear in both parties. He supposes that’s what he is. Brain still exploring like he’s seventeen, before the demogorgon. A child in a sense. An overgrown weed.

“I will,” Eddie promises.

And so Steve nods. “I love you, too.” He wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist, encircling barely, air still able to travel in the gap he creates where his bare skin doesn’t touch the cotton of Eddie’s shirt. Tangling his hands loosely. Not exactly grasping for something, but the suggestion of it. “I love you,” he murmurs once more. The words like white noise, but true.

He’ll say it more later. Curled on one end of Eddie’s couch while he sits on the other side. No space between them because Steve refuses to move his legs, the bottoms of his feet, socked and dry, shaped firmly to the soft give of Eddie’s thigh. In between moments, he’ll whisper the words. As a tape plays and the beats are bright and jingling, while he’s melancholy and still to the soft cushion. When Eddie mutters something indistinguishable, chewing on the end of his ballpoint pen. Over a plain turkey and American cheese sandwich, mayo smeared on his bottom lip, and Eddie wiping away the residue. A reverence focused on him like soft spotlight.

It’s death because he knows they won’t have forever.

He loves, though, and that’s enough to quell the fear that floods him.

He wades in Eddie’s soft touch. In his sticky lips. The lulls.

“I’m going to play my Beatles ‘Magical Mystery Tour’ album,” he tells Eddie. Because, much like the end of the album, love is all you need. He’s afraid. But he can be brave in Eddie’s arms, his warmth, his deserved life.

💕—————💕

[mrs-avenger3000]

Oh Bite Me 🙄 pt2

Pair: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

High school AU

Word count: 3139

Summary: As the youngest Stark, sister to the billionaire, playboy, philanthropist himself, Tony Stark Y/n… she has her father's brains and her mother's compassion. Her brain is what landed her in close quarters with Wanda Maximoff, an emo teen who’s struggling to keep her grades up after the loss of her brother. The two of them soon come to realise that being just friends isn’t something they want to do, but can they push their pride aside and admit they feel for each other?

Please do not copy my work or repost with the intent to take ownership of my work :) Feedback is as always welcome as are re-blogs, comments and likes

✨✨✨✨✨

The music was loud. Too loud. So loud you could feel the thump of the bass vibrated through the house, shaking the floors of your room.

“Jarvis?”

“Yes, Miss Stark?”

“Lock all important rooms, the garage, offices, bedrooms, Tony’s workshops, etc. please.” You say with a smile.

“Yes. Of course Miss Y/n.”

You nodded, walking over to the mirror. You surveyed your outfit choice and grinned. You chose high waisted blue jeans and white ruffle sweater that was held in place by three buttons. It left your midriff on show, and of course a delicious amount of cleavage. Its sleeves stopping mid biceps. Your heels pushed you up to 5’6. You smiled.

“You like the fit Jarvis?” You asked, twirling a little.

“If you are referring to your outfit. You look visually pleasing.” He said, causing you to giggle. You opened the bedroom door smiling as you heard it lock behind you. You made your way downstairs. People were milling about and when you got into the main room, the placed was filled. You cringed slightly. This was gonna take forever to clean up.

“Y/n! Killer party bro!” some jock yelled as he clapped me on the shoulder. You chuckled at him. The room smelled of beer and smoke. There were people dancing everywhere, and you struggled to find a familiar face until you spied Yelena. You rushed up to her and grinned. She smiled back just as bright and you plopped down next to her. Kate sat in front of us, passing us all a beer. You smiled, clicking your glasses together before you all took a drink. You chugged back your drink, feeling thirsty.

“Anyone seen Maximoff?” You asked and Kate glanced at you.

“You tapping that?”

Your eyes widened. “What. No. I was told I needed to tutor her, and we had one session and she ghosted.” You muttered, taking another swig.

“Meh, fuck her. You tried to help. She didn’t accept it.” Yelena muttered, drinking too.

—

You spent the next few hours drinking and dancing with your friends until you bumped into a familiar body. You turned and saw Wanda. She seemed surprised for a moment. “Wanda… heyyy.” You smirk. She eyed you for a moment.

“You drunk?” She asked, seeming concerned.

“Nah, just a little buzzed. You having fun?” You asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. She glanced at your hand before back at you.

“Sure.” she said with a smile. You rolled your eyes before spying a tray of shots Hunter had set up. You grabbed Wanda’s hand and pulled her towards him. You grabbed the tray from him and he pouted, but smiled again when you offered him a shot. Handing one to Wanda, you all cheered and took the shot, throwing it back. The liquid burned your throat, and you scrunched up your face in disgust before knocking back another one and instructing Wanda to do the same. She nodded and knocked it back.

“Ayyy, you can let loose, can’t you Maximoff?” You said with a teasing smirk.

“Shut up.”

“Dance with me?” You asked, and she seemed surprised, but not enough to decline. She nodded. We walked over to where the rest of the people were dancing and you just let loose. You reached up and pulled your hair from the ponytail it was in. Your hair tumbled down and rested in the middle of your back. Wanda was watching you and you smiled, watching her move to the beat. You two continue to drink and somehow you, her, Yelena, Kate, and a few other girls and guys from the school day in a circle playing truth or dare.

“Yelena. Truth or dare?” Carson asked, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

She met the challenge and stared down at him. “Dare.”

“I dare you to kiss the prettiest girl playing!” He said she gave him a flat look.

“Easy.” She looked over at me and pointed her index finger at you, beckoning you forward. You crawled over to her and met her in the middle. She winked as she cupped your face. She brought her lips to yours. You smiled. Her lips tasted like vodka. Your lips moved together in a drunken haze. She licked at your bottom lip and your lips parted and she wasted no time letting her tongue explore your mouth. Your tongues swirled together. You gripped her hips and finally pulled back. You both stared at each other a little breathless before you started laughing. You sat back down, still giggling.

“You’re good Belova.” You say with a wink. She blew you a kiss.

“As are you Stark.”

You glanced at Wanda. She was staring at Yelena, her eyes tinted red. You ignored the flutter in your stomach at the red in her eyes. “Wow. Can you guys do it again but let me record it.” Jason, who was captain of the football team at your school. Asked, and you rolled your eyes, throwing an empty shot glass at him. He hissed as it hit him off the head.

“Okayyyy, okayyyy. Maximoff. Truth or dare?” He asked.

She glanced at him. “Truth.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Is it true you killed your brother?” He asked with a predatory gaze. You snapped your gaze to his. Wanda looked distraught. The sheer pain in her eyes sparked a protective instinct in you, her eyes were full of shock and you noticed the glaze that others would have mistaken for a drunken state but you knew she had tears in her gaze and the thought of anyone making her cry made your veins fill with fire. You stood up and walked over to him. You shoved him.

“You're done. Get out.” You snapped. He narrowed his eyes.

“You’re kicking me out. It was a game she gotta answer the question.” He muttered, rolling his eyes. You shoved his shoulder again. He snapped back around, stepping closer to you with an angered glare in his eyes. Yelena and Kate shot up, stepping closer in a protective manner. Wanda stepped forward as well, her eyes taking on that familiar red blaze.

“Leave. She doesn’t have to answer shit. Especially when you took such a cheap shot.” You said in a deadly, calm tone.

“Oh, lighten up.” He smirked, placing his hand on your hip. You looked at him and then at his hand. Yelena cracked her neck and walked closer and shoved him back so hard he crashed into the table. He groaned, rolling over.

"Touch her again and I'll break your hands." Yelena stated simply before sinking back next to Kate. You walked over to him and grabbed him by the arm. You twisted his arm behind his back until he screamed.

"What she said. Now, I'm only gonna say this once. Apologise to her." You sneered into his ear. He scowled, trying to pull away. You pushed his arm higher, and he screamed again.

"I-I-I'm sorry!" He grunted out. You looked at Wanda, wanting her approval before you let him go. She was looking at you in horror or awe. You couldn't really tell, but she nodded, and you shoved him. Forward, he stumbled and Wanda put her foot out and he tripped and slammed against the floor. You grinned.

“As I said leave. And you should do your best to remember that I’m best friends with 2 assassins and my brother is Tony Stark. You come after me and they’ll obliterate you.” You say with a kind smile. He scurried away, cradling his hand to his chest. The group watched you with fascinated gazes. You said nothing as you picked up your drink and walked off towards your room, wanting to calm down before going back to the party. You pushed open the door. He had pissed you off. How dare he disrespect her like that? She didn’t even do anything to him. He attacked her out of spite. He used the memory that haunts her the most against her. That stupid fuck. You slammed your hands on the desk, needing to release some of this anger.

A knock came from your door. You growled in annoyance before walking to the door and pulling it open. Wanda stood before you, looking confused. “Why’d you do that?” She asked, pushing past you into your room. You shut the door behind you.

“What?”

She snapped her gaze to you. Stepping closer to you with a fire in her gaze. The hues of red now swirled into her eyes, brightening them. “Stick up for me. Hurt Jason?”

You gave her a “wtf” look. “Are you serious? Did you not hear what he accused you of? He totally disrespected you. Hurt you for no reason.” You mutter.

“And?”

“And I hate bullies. I despise bullies.” You snapped.

She softened slightly. “Why?”

You turned from her. “They ruin people.” She paused for a moment before gently placing a hand on your shoulder. Her touch sent warmth throughout your body. She turned you to face her. The sharp lines of her face softened in the low light of your room. She seemed less intimidating than she did earlier and you felt yourself wanting to be closer to her.

“Did someone ruin you?” She asked softly. You ran a hand through your hair, plastering on a playful smile.

“This isn’t party talk, Wands. Let’s go enjoy the party.” You smirked, grabbing your beer. You held your door open, gesturing for her to walk out of it. She watched you carefully. She turned after she passed you. She stared you dead in the eyes and you couldn’t help the nerves as they creeped into your veins as she stared.

“You know one day you're going to tell me everything that’s going on inside that pretty head of yours.” She said, bringing her fingers up to tap your left temple. Her power was electric, but it didn’t hurt, it was warm. Her powers swirled from her fingers, turning the side of your face a deep scarlet. You tilted your head to the side, intrigued by her. You raised a brow. Her other hand was glowing too, so you reached for it, bringing it up to inspect it. The red wisp encircled her hand like a small shield.

You went to reply, but she pulled back and her power dissipated and the warmth and red glow faded. You frowned slightly.

“I’m annoyed at you, actually.” You say.

She then frowned. “What why?”

“You had one tutoring session with me and then ghosted me.”

She blushed, looking down. “Things got a little… I don’t know. Look I’m-”

“Don’t say you’re sorry. This is your future, not mine.” You say with an eye roll.

“I didn’t ask for this.” She muttered.

You narrowed your eyes at her. “Nor did I. I had as much say in this as you did. If you don’t improve, it comes back to me. And I will not be affected because you’re too lazy to show up.” You snapped, feeling angry.

She scowled at you. “Lazy? I’m not lazy. I have a life. A job, people depending on me! I’m not some spoilt little rich girl who spends her time throwing parties and studying. I have shit I need to do. Shit, that I’m expected to do.” She snapped back.

You felt your irritation spike as you glared at her. “Is that what you think I do?! I study because I have to. My brother is a genius! You try living up to impossible expectations. My dad was a genius, mom was too in her own way! I can’t fail.” You growled out, walking past her.

“We’ve all got expectations!” She yelled after you.

“Fuck you Wanda.” You spat.

She looked shocked, and you didn’t stay for a response.

Wanda watched you leave, a shocked look on her face. Her shock slowly turned into amusement as a smirk lifted her lips.

—

You spent the rest of the night with your friends. You had calmed down from your argument with Wanda after a few minutes with your friends. They always knew how to cheer you up and you were very grateful for them.

By the time morning rolled around, you were laying flat out on the couch. Yelena was half draped over you and Kate half draped over her. You groaned, trying to roll away. You managed to escape, and you rolled onto the floor, landing in a pile of red solo cups. “Fuck.” I cursed. Yelena sat up quickly, her eyes scanning the room. “I’m good!” You called out from the floor. She leant over her face, hovering off the couch.

“Why are you on the floor?” She asked, her Russian accent thick with morning husk. You smile.

“I had to escape. You were crushing my lungs.” You smirked. She rolled her eyes. You sat up, stretching out with a groan. The rest of the partygoers had already filtered out. That was the rule for a stark party. You never stay till morning, no matter how fucked up you are.

“Jarvis?”

“Yes, miss stark?”

“Can you-”

“Coffee and breakfast are already in the kitchen, ma’am.” He said you grinned.

“I love you Jarvis!” You smiled

“I cannot return your affection. I am not programmed to feel human emotions.” He stated robotically. You laugh with an eye roll.

“Come on, ladies. Let’s eat.” You said. And just like that, Kate rose from the dead. You and Yelena shared a look before chuckling.

You all head to the kitchen your stomach a little queasy from all the alcohol. You smiled to yourself when you saw the full breakfast platter spread across the marble countertops you were playing beer pong on last night. The sides fully cleansed and clean enough to eat off.

The three of you sat at the table and enjoyed the delicious food that seemed to be never ending. The team of cleaners were currently working in the next room tidying the mess from the night before and before you know it you’re lying back on the couch with a full stomach and a small headache. Yelena and Kate headed out after breakfast.

You closed your eyes and felt the world drift way until you’re no longer conscious. Sleep was always blissful for you. A way to escape the pressures of being a Stark, of having such a huge legacy. An escape was always welcome and you relished every moment of it. That was until an incessant knocking at your door pulled your from that bliss.

Scowling you sat up and through your legs over the couch, standing up. You marched over to the door and pulled it open still scowling. A smirking Wanda was leaning against the pillar outside her eyes wandering down your body a feline smirk at her lips. “Yes?” You asked feeling irritable.

“So cheerful. Where’s that kind hospitality that you’re known for?” She grinned. You watched her for a moment. Her red hair fell freely down her back, the curls made her hair seem longer. More intriguing. The light was hitting her in just the right way making her sea-green eyes sparkle and hair glow.

“Taking a leave of absence.” You mutter. She chuckles.

“We’ll…” she asked stepping forward until she was less than an arms length away. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

You catch her gaze. The teasing spark in her eyes made you want to blush. “Why?”

“To study? That how tutoring works?” She smirks. You raise a brow stepping into the challenge.

“How would you know… you bailed after the first session.”

Her smirk drops for a moment. “Well I’ll just have to catch up then won’t I?”

You shrug. “You sure you can be bothered Maximoff?” You say looking her in the eyes. She raised a brow leaning forward ever so slightly.

“I’m sure I can handle whatever you throw at me Stark.” She murmured softly. You smirk, your eyes trailing down her form for a few seconds. You step back pushing the door open for her to enter. She smiled and walked past you taking her shoes off at the door, you watch slightly surprised.

“You are house trained… shocker.” You teased to your pleasure she laughed at your little rebuttal.

“Shove off.” She smiled.

You both sat down and with a wave of her magical hands all her notes were spread across the glass table along with all of yours. You smiled. "So what do you suck the most at?" you asked smirking. She shot you a filthy look.

"Shut up, you're supposed to be helping me not berating me." She snapped. You raised a brow, leaning in to her.

"But it's so fun." You smirked.

She clicked her pen her eyes flashing red. "Careful Stark, I have no qualms about hurting you." You saw her threat for what it was, a taunt.

You smirked winking at her. "You didn't answer my question, Maximoff."

She huffed out a breath. "Physics. I suck at physics."

You tilted your head and nodded. "Okay, well we can start there Wanda. Physics is quite simple when you figure out the equations, for example speed, distance, time. If one is missing then you'd utilise the other two components to find out the missing one. Make sense?" You ask. She watched as you wrote down what you were saying. Her eyes carefully reading over the words.

"I understand."

You smiled as you flipped through the book.

The two of you spent the next part of two hours working through the text book dissecting each piece of information that Wanda didn't seem to understand. Once she got the hang of it Wanda's intellect wasn't that of a high-school drop out like everyone assumed. S he was incredibly bright, she just didn't have the confidence to apply herself.

Wanda groaned throwing her head back. "Educational overload." She murmured. You smiled standing up and offering her a hand. She looked at you and then at your hand. She delicately slipped a hand into mine and I smiled gripping her hand and pulling her up.

"Coffee break, I'll drive."

"Uh, why?" She asked looking away.

"We've been at this for hours, and I'm just as bored as you."

She frowned. "Sorry to inconvenience you." She muttered sharply. You groaned rolling your eyes.

"Oh stop it." You muttered leaning across the table to to grab your car keys.

"Okay, but if anyone recognises us. I'm not with you." She muttered. You nodded.

"Oh yeah because I'm sure it would damage your reputation to be seen with a lowly Stark. It's not like my brother and I don't own half the city." You teased with an eye roll. You saw the faintest of smirks lift her lips before she walked past you and straight out the door.

Tag List

@blackxwidowsxwife @g-correia @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo @cristin-rjd @yeetus-thyself @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @upsidedowndanvers @wanda-nats-slut @i1ovewanda @littlewinchester15 @fishlikestuff @gengen64 @procrastinatingsapphictrash @liladoesfanfics @gengen64 @baller2412 @rice-wiife @tomy5girls @srtamercury @nothingisrealanyway @marvelwomen-simp @darshikaria @ria900 @ic-4u @atlas-nex @xxromanoffxx @kcthewifitheif @fairydxll @strangegardentaco @maxxione @pbeckn26 

[cultofdixon]

A Force of Nature [Pt. 2]

Daryl Dixon [PLATONIC] • She/Her to They/Them Pronouns • The cards have been dealt and Daryl wasn’t leaving his kid’s side any time soon. • ANGST/SFW • TWD makes my brain hurt with ages • TW: Torture / Severe Injuries / Character Deaths / Scars / Nightmares / Insecurities / PTSD / Anxiety Attacks / Self Harm Implied / Coming Out

PREV

Daryl was hesitant entering Hilltop after everything that he went through in the sanctuary. His anxiety ate him alive the entire time hearing Y/N screaming off the top of her lungs when he was being taken away.

But the second he stepped through the doors and Maggie came running out to meet him half way. Both held onto each other in the moment even if one was worried about the other as the other felt they were at fault for what happened at the line up.

Yet…there was something more important than those worries.

“DADDY!” The seven year old screamed off the top of her lungs a word Daryl never thought he’d hear.

When she first came into his life and every moment since then, he thought he was messing it all up. But the way Daryl just collapsed seeing Y/N run at him at full speed launching herself into his arms. He knew they were bonded and he wasn’t going to let go any time soon.

“I missed you…d-don’t leave” Y/N sobbed into his shirt feeling him tighten his grip on her.

“You’re stuck with me. I ain’t going anywhere”

“I love you daddy”

Daryl couldn’t help it anymore and continued to break down hearing that as Y/N tried to squeeze him back telling him “it’s ok”.

“I love yea too kid”

________

He’s never addressed. Unless Y/N desperately needed him.

And this was one of those moments.

Y/N found out pretty quickly that Henry disappeared and so were a few others when the festival was progressing at the Kingdom. So they locked up Dog in one of the buildings so he wouldn’t follow them as they set off for track the missing people down.

Little did they know, that one of the Whisperers wanted revenge on a certain Dixon…and them finding the group of hostages…only made it easier for him.

“We found a spy!” One of the Whisperers announced causing the group of hostages to grow anxious until Y/N got pulled into view and the fear returned at an all time high. “Followed one of us out here. What do you want us to do with it?”

“Let me the fuck go! Let them g—-“ Y/N stopped talking when Alpha was interrupted by Beta who towered the teen watching them struggle a bit more before freezing when he suddenly grabbed them by the shirt lifting them off the ground.

Henry struggled against the restraints watching this unfold as he thought rushing the situation wouldn’t get him knocked back down, but that’s what happened. One of the Whisperers knocked him onto his stomach as he lifted his head watching Beta forcefully slam Y/N onto the ground enough for their head to receive enough of the force to knock them unconscious.

“I’ve got the rat”

“Well alright then…” Alpha laughs a bit to the display as Beta drags them out by their collar. “Keep’em alive, I know exactly who that is. But do what you will…we’ve got them” she turns back to Henry and the others giving a devilish smile as she pulls out her machete.

•

Where’s Y/N? Connie thought as she explores around the festival in hopes that she runs into the teen. But instead as she opens the door to one of the main living quarter buildings, an anxious Dog burst out and started sprinting. Without a second thought, she started to follow the Mal to wherever he was going.

Kelly was talking to Earl when she noticed her sister chasing after Daryl’s dog and that clicked to her that something was wrong. She quickly caught up with her sister and her tapping for her attention was ignored as the two were lead to a secret way outside the walls of the Kingdom by Dog and Connie took a second to sign.

Something could be wrong. I’m following until I know for sure She signs and quickly turns back to the Dog trying to catch up to avoid losing track of what he was tracking. Kelly didn’t wait another second to join her sister on this mission.

•

I want my dad…

I want my dad…

Where’s my dad…

Y/N’s sobbing echoed throughout the forest surrounding them, no one coming and no worry of a Walker. But the Whisperer towering above them was the main issue that they tried to take on.

Yet strike after strike…did nothing.

“I wish she gave me permission to end your life right now. Have him endure that sorrow” the lowness of Beta’s voice made them shake in fear as they tried to rise again, only for him to kick them back down. His boot landing a perfect shot in their ribs made them wheeze immedieatly after. “But destroying every part of you, ripping away the child he knows and loves…will just do”

He was just protecting us…me…Lydia…but was it worth it? Was this worth i—- Y/N stopped thinking when he grabbed at their collar once again lifting them to where they dangled.

Instead of reaching for his own, he took one of their throwing knives and started with cutting their left cheek watching their tears pour when he did such. Then a more devilish thought came to mind…

“I’ll ruin what makes you, you.”

•

What the group did next, was remove the heads off the spikes…take them out of their misery…and return to the Kingdom. Ruining the remaining moments of the festival and tell the perspective families about the loss.

All Michonne and Daryl wanted in that moment, was to hug their kids. But once Daryl left Carol with Ezekiel and Jerry to go find his kid, no one’s heard where they’ve might’ve gone to and when he questioned further. Dog is missing. Connie and Kelly are missing.

And with everything that just happened. He thought the worse and screamed at everyone who gave him no answer when it was obvious that the fear radiating from him and everyone around him that they were struggling to absorb what just happened. And Daryl needed to go out again and find them. Find all of them.

I-I can’t lose them. I can’t lost my kid.

“We’ll find them, Daryl. We’ll go back out you and—-“

“Me” Carol interrupts Michonne as her and Daryl gave the grieving mother a confused look.

“Nah. You just lost somebody.”

“You should be grieving with Ezekiel and talking about preparations…you can’t—“

“Shut UP! Henry may have been my kid. The joy I n-needed after all the darkness” her voice cracked saying such as the tears build up. “But Y/N matters so much to me…and I’m done losing”

________

Y/N sat outside of the Sanctuary kicking her feet enjoying the feeling of her new gloves that was gifted to her by Maggie. She didn’t like being there and part of her hated Rick for making Daryl take lead of the place. But she enjoyed Carol visiting because it meant getting some of her cookies and a new cassette tape she found just for Y/N.

Their relationship was important to her, especially when it came to something like this.

“Hey kiddo, it’s cold out here! You should be inside…mainly prevent Daryl from hitting somebody” Carol jokes sitting beside Y/N at the loading dock of the Sanctuary.

“He just hits Ex-saviors nowadays” She kept her voice at a low whisper as Carol couldn’t help the worry look and the motherly touch she had while pushing her hair behind her ear out of her face.

“What’s wrong hun?”

“You Uhm. Ever felt different? From everybody else…” Y/N pouts looking at Carol who gave her a warm smile and a nod.

“Yeah, this new world was definitely involved with those feelings. But I think there’s more to it”

Y/N felt anxious as she took a deep breath before relaxing when Carol brought her arm around her shoulders.

“I don’t think…I associate with being a girl”

“Do you think you…are more of a boy?”

“No…I don’t think so. More of…it?” Y/N questions if that sounded right as the small laugh to escape Carol made them blush out of embarrassment but that was eased instantly with

“You are Y/N. Not either side. Just you” Carol smiles kissing their temple as she kept them close. “So, they/them works best for you?”

“Can…can you help me tell my dad?” She felt the same thing Daryl does when she hears that. She just knows how happy Daryl gets hearing himself be called that, and she knows how much he loves his kid.

This will be easy, and they’ll be loved unconditionally.

________

Daddy…

Where’s…my dad…

The tightening feeling in their left cheek grew more and more painful as they tried to feel what was happening. But they couldn’t move their arms. Couldn’t feel their legs. All they felt was pain and struggled to think of anything else but that…and where was he?…

When growling was heard, Y/N knew they had to move and with little strength they had…they lifted themselves up only to realize the pain in their mouth grew worse like the rest of their body but they couldn’t speak. Something wasn’t right. So when the Walker drew closer to their frozen state, they reached for their knives feeling that they were gone and went to touch their face in annoyance. Only to feel the familiar metal sticking out of their cheek.

The whisperer stabbed me… Y/N groans upon touching it and only screamed when ripping the knife out in the worse way possible before using the rest of their strength to knock the Walker off it’s feet. Collapsing to the ground along with themselves trying to return into the fetal position because the pain grew worse and the blood poured from their mouth. The taste of metal is getting worse they crawled and stabbed the walker in the skull collapsing again laying beside the dead creature.

Y/N flipped onto their back struggling to breathe knowing their body is bruised and some of their ribs must be broken. They stared up at the fading sky through the trees trying to get their mind straight and build up enough strength to get up.

But they laid there through what felt like hours, and it must’ve been, given the stars started to shine down on them. Thankful it was only one walker…but the pain was fading and the tiredness grew…the fear that the tear in their cheek leading to their lips continued bleeding which could draw more than just walkers but wildlife to pick at their body.

“Is this the you’re in a pickle situation?”

Y/N turned toward the voice finding their five year old self sitting right beside them.

“Yea…y-yea mean the…end of the line?”

“No, like. Stuck but mama is gonna come and get us”

“M…Mama never loved us” They coughed up a bit more blood as their younger self quickly approached their side resting her tiny hands on their cheek. “She…she g-gave…u-used us…a-as bait”

“Not that mama…other mama. Mama is gonna come and find us…fix us…save us” She frowns laying beside themselves curling up close. “She’s gonna get daddy and come save us. She must’ve seen us gone…s…she lost enough, so did daddy. They’ll find us”

Y/N couldn’t help the tired laugh to escape them knowing exactly what they are talking about and the tears flooded their vision.

“I failed them…I couldn’t…couldn’t save him…” They exhaled resting their hands on their stomach feeling the coldness fade. “She’ll hate me forever…I failed her…”

“You did the best you could…this isn’t the old world…not anymore”

The sobbing faded, the pain subsided, and they couldn’t stay awake much longer.

All that was puffs of air pushing against their face and rapid movement in the ground. Then the sudden rise from their resting place and the occasional jostle in whoever’s arms it was that carried them.

I…I want to go home

Let me go home…

I want my dad

•

Right as Daryl, Michonne, and Carol met at the gates after getting everything they needed to handle any whisperer or threat to them while finding Y/N. The gates open and the image was clear.

Connie came sprinting with a frightened Kelly right beside her and Dog keeping up with them. As Y/N laid unconscious in Connie’s embrace.

“No…No no no!” Daryl yells off the top of his lungs sprinting toward them with Michonne following and Carol quickly getting the Kingdom’s first aid.

“Dog got out and Connie was following him and I was following her. We didn’t have good feelings and h-he found them. L-Like this” Kelly frowns feeling the tears fall along with her sister who hasn’t stopped sobbing since they found Y/N.

Daryl couldn’t keep it together. He broke down in tears lifting Y/N’s head seeing what that monster did and the fear kicked him down making him check their pulse which made them all fall quiet.

“I-It’s still there w-w…we gotta—-“

“Everything’s ready inside let’s go!” Carol yells, leading to Daryl suddenly taking Y/N into his arms which they least expected for anything to come out of their unconscious self.

But when the pain returned, so did they.

Stop. STOP Y/N suddenly screamed in pain remembering their ribs and moving from one to another after a resting period brought back the excruciating feeling coursing through their body.

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry I’m sorry” Daryl kept repeating the entire time he handled Y/N and the entire time others treated their injuries.

As much as Siddiq had his own injuries, he cared about Y/N and wasn’t going to let them slip through the cracks so once he was patched up since they’ve arrived back the first time. He went straight to work on the major wound on their face knowing his stitch work would scar and they’d have to live with that forever.

“This…this was revenge…or something close to it. This wasn’t just because we kept Lydia with us. There was more to it” Michonne frowns helping Daryl keep Y/N still enough for Siddiq to work as Daryl kept quiet while he thought of the many different ways to destroy the Whisperers.

“Beta fucking touched my kid. He’s going to pay for that” Daryl frowns moving out of Siddiq’s way when he finished the stitches and went to get the any type of heavy duty bandage they’ve got. Only for him to notice they’re awake and the tears streamed down their face. “Hey…hey you’re safe now…I-I promise”

“…he stepped on me…held me up by my hair threatening to cut off my head…made me watch my best friend get on a pike…” They kept their voice at a low whisper knowing Carol and Ezekiel were in the room watching them get treated. “…he stabbed me with my own knives and left the last one…in my face…where I couldn’t build the strength to take it out safely…when a walker was drawing close…” they continued but the exhaustion got the best of them once more. “Please don’t leave me dad…”

Daryl choked on his tears hearing that last part as he kept close to them resting his hand gently on their stomach letting the rise and fall of their body reassure him that they were still breathing. But reassure them as well that he wasn’t moving from his spot.

“I ain’t leavin’. I’m right here”

It’s been months since the massacre, and Y/N’s accident. They still haven’t talked about it to Daryl, Carol, or anybody. Hell nobody can talk about the massacre, especially those who’ve lost somebody. But part of Daryl wanted to know what happened to his kid, what that monster did to them.

“You’ve gotta eat something”

“Are you projecting cuz Y/N won’t eat?” Lydia frowns at the plate set in front of her by Daryl.

“Just eat…” Daryl sighs. “We’ll be leavin’ soon” he states going to check on his kid.

Carol carefully adjusted the beanie on their head as they kept fixing the gaiter mask to cover their left cheek. She frowns knowing why they are covering up half their face and it wasn’t because of the cold weather do to the storm approaching.

“Hey”

“Hey, we’re ready whenever everybody else is” Carol gave a half smile in the archer’s direction before putting the scarf she made for Y/N around them as Daryl couldn’t help but notice how tense they got when she did such. “Go make sure you’ve got everything while I talk to your dad a sec” and with that Y/N left in a quick manner into one of the buildings as Daryl couldn’t help the worry pouring out of him.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“About what? They’re not ready to talk about it…”

“Yea think…they’re ever gonna be?” Daryl frowns as Carol hesitantly hugged her best friend expecting him to pull away but he returned the gesture. He really needed it.

The group sets off to Hilltop where the Kingdom folk will have a fresh start and plenty of more feelings floating around. The obvious ones Carol has toward Lydia as it took Daryl reminding her that Henry wanted her to be with them. And when they reached the Sanctuary for some time to recuperate before setting off once again, Carol couldn’t keep it to herself anymore.

“I feel like I’m starting to lose myself again…” Carol says in a low whisper after talking about how losing Henry returned a lot of dormant feelings.

“If…” Daryl sighs. “If it makes it easier, I’ll take my kid and Lydia protect’em on my own” but his tone made it obvious that he didn’t want to leave after being separated from everyone for so long. Especially when his kid was also with him. Another moment in time he doesn’t entirely understood how they felt during it.

But when the group had to make the risk by going through Alpha’s territory, that’s when the unsettling feeling returned to a few. Y/N especially when they took a second to look through the group realizing that Lydia was missing and took it upon themselves to go find them. Even if it meant fearing what unwanted territory could hold for them.

Lydia found herself crouched down to the level of a frozen walker in the snow as she reaches toward its begging bites.

It’s all my fault…it’s all my faul—- Lydia was literally pulled out of her thoughts as she falls back into the snow lifting her head to find the Dixon kid crushing the walker’s head repeatedly. “Y/N what are you…” she frowns watching them finally relax as their hands started to shake from anger before turning toward the girl making her flinch.

Y/N was instantly shot with regret as they gripped their scarf for a moment before holding their hands out for Lydia. She took them hesitantly letting them pull her up. But they were dodging the question.

“What are you doing here?” Lydia asks as Y/N hasn’t let go of one of her hands pulling her back into the direction of the group. “Y/N please…”

Y/N kept going. Tightening their grip when Lydia would try to pull away but when she pulled once again. This time crying out—

“What are you doing here?!” Lydia snaps making Y/N let go of her hand as they turn to look at them with the blank expressionless look on their face that wasn’t covered. Letting Lydia take the floor to explain to them why she strayed away. “Y/N please…why did you follow me out here? Why you? After everything my mother did to you and Carol and Ezekiel…everybody. Why are you trying to bring me back after everything they’ve done?”

“You’re not them” Y/N frowns pulling the gaiter mask down to talk more clearly but Lydia got a good look at the scar that Beta left and what they did in their weaken state. “I can’t…I don’t want you to die” they broke down in front of her as she felt herself reach that point as well. “Henry saw the good in you that came from all the shit that life dealt you…I get that entirely. And I ain’t letting you go and ain’t letting anybody mess with you”

“You don’t have to…you really don’t”

“I want to…” Y/N extended their hand as Lydia took it carefully watching them put their mask back on before leading the way back.

And with that, Carol kept her distance from the two as she followed the second Y/N disappeared as well. She didn’t want Daryl to leave with them because of what happened to her boy, but it was going to take time to steer away the blame.

When the group made it to hilltop and Daryl found the two sticking together feeling a bit relieved that Y/N didn’t hate Lydia or blamed her. But he knew they blamed themselves for it. Y/N caught his attention and separated from Lydia for a moment, running at full speed to Daryl who crushed them in his embrace. He sighs holding them close resting his chin on top of their head.

“Feeling alright?”

“Can we go home?”

“Mhm. We’re leavin’ in a minute. Then we’ll be home”

“Can Lydia stay with us?” Y/N looks up at him watching him nod before hugging him tightly once again. “I…I wanna talk about it. But I’m still not ready”

“I’ll be there when you are” Daryl reassures rubbing circles on their back keeping them close for a little while longer before the Alexandria group headed back home.

After returning home and the small meaningful moment of a snowball fight, Daryl watches Y/N get everything set up for both Lydia and Carol to stay in their place as Carol sat at the table with a cup of tea made by the man himself.

“Think you’ll be warm enough tonight?”

“Why?”

“Cuz Dog is gonna stick with Y/N.”

“Dog likes them more”

“I remember visiting the two of you at night and you’d be awake keeping an eye out while Dog curled up by Y/N” Carol smiles warmly for the first time in a while. “He’s like a therapy dog”

Daryl chuckles sitting across from Carol remembering the countless times Dog wouldn’t leave to check the snares with him because Y/N was still asleep. He was glued to their side just like he was glued to his when they first met.

“Maybe he’ll help their nightmares…gotta apologize in advance for how bad they’re gonna get”

“They’ve got a village. They’ll be fine again…we’ll all be”

Daryl couldn’t help the smile to break out for the moment upon hearing that.

[mklegends-smokescreen]

MK Legends: Blood Bound

Chapter 14: Somewhere Far Away

Meanwhile in Outworld, we see a familiar looking Saurian walking through a windy desert with a bandana over his mouth. By now, he’s roughly 7-8 kilometers away from the capital, as that is where we last saw him. As the wind settles down, he notices a small town, to which he responds by somersaulting forward into the sand, phasing through it and jumping back out in the backyard of a house. He walks out in the street, seeing several people walking around. Some people were giving him shady looks as he walked by, and he is a little bit scared, and quite confused. As he’s walking towards a house covered in sand, he pushes the sand off a door to enter said house. As he enter, he notices sand and knocked over furnishings everywhere. Suddenly, as he’s looking around, a shadow slithers around on the ceiling, to which Sabbia responds to by making a spear using the sand on the floor.

SABBIA: You can show yourself now, before it gets ugly…

Before he realized it, the sound of metal was heard behind him, which caused him to throw the spear in the direction of the sound as the spear hits a pot and dissolves. Sabbia would look confused for a bit, until a hooded figure would drop behind him. He tried to do something,  before he could, he was knocked down to the floor and a karambit was put to his throat.

SABBIA: Is this because I left, destroying most of the house? UNWILLINGLY, might I add!

???: How’dya know? If you didn’t teach me to fight, your only family would have been dead, now would she?

Sabbia would sigh, and she would help him off the floor. She would then remove her hood, as her Saurian head forms out of her human sized cowl with red particles.

SABBIA: It’s good to see ya again, sis–

She would tackle him in order to hug him, squeezing tighter by the second.

SABBIA: Okay, big girl, , could you maybe… let go just a little bit before you pop my brains out.

She let go of him and put away the karambit. While with her other hand pointing her finger at him.

ASTRAIA: Next time, call before you turn on your family.

SABBIA: Okay, I promise it won’t happen again.

The snake would brush the sand off his clothes, taping her shoulder.

SABBIA: Tell me, where did you go? What did you do?

ASTRAIA: Well… stuff.

Sabbia would look at her with a disapproving scowl.

SABBIA: Astraia, who did you kill?

ASTRAIA: I didn’t “kill” anyone! Why is that your third question?

SABBIA: No one know’s ya better than I do, and I know for a fact how much you thrive on justice, ranting on and on about what’s wrong with the system.

ASTRAIA: What do you want from me? I’m an angst ridden teen with a strong taste for righteousness. 

He’d sigh at his sister’s comment, patting her head.

SABBIA: Look, Astraia, you’re a good soul, but that’s no excuse to put the fear of God in the souls of bastards who hurt the innocent. We have the guardsmen for that.

Astraia would look at her brother, proceeding to be more and more aggressive with her replies, like some angsty teen rejecting their father.

ASTRAIA: Listen, Sabbia, I’m not here for your lecturing, because I’m here to do what the law wouldn’t. Since Kitana became Kahn, the law became less and less, well, lawful. And I get you’re trying to protect me, but I can fight for myself.

Sabbia would look down on the ground, with his hand on his sister’s shoulder. The Italian word for sand would open his mouth, but before he could say anything, Astraia would move his hand off her shoulder. ASTRAIA: Well, I’ve seen the way people look at you, and I’mma be honest, it don’t look pretty.

Sabbia would sigh, tapping his foot on the floor and looking at the door.

SABBIA: Right… so, we go to the market?

ASTRAIA: Oh sure, let’s go to the most crowded place in all of Outworld to hide, that’s a brilliant idea, dear brother. You’re giving one of Ermac’s souls a run for their money.

Sabbia would look at her with pure disapprovement and turn around, but as he reaches for the door knob, Astraia grabs his arm.

ASTRAIA: Wait, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. We can go to the market.

The snake would chuckle and pat her head, and the two would walk out. As the two head off to the market place, Astraia would jump on Sabbia's back, and he would carry her all the way. After a bit of a walk, the two arrive at the market. They would see people selling fruit and jewelry. As they walked, Sabbia would notice a familiar face he didn't see since chapter 10. It was Muchacha. As the two siblings walked towards her, they saw her patrolling the Market, as she's known to do to keep people safe.

SABBIA: Oi, general! How've ya been? You look cheerful as ever.

She would look at the two, and she would give him a handshake.

MUCHACHA: Hello, again, Sabbia. I see you brought company.

SABBIA: Yeah, this is my sister.

ASTRAIA: Astraia, glad to meet you, madam. 

She said, extending her scaly hand with her hood covering her face. Amara shook her hand

MUCHACHA: Please make this quick, Sabbia, I'm working. 

SABBIA: Oh don’t worry, we was just passin' by. Carry on, Ma'am.

he says as the Saurian's walked away.

ASTRAIA: You know her?

SABBIA: Apparently. Kicked her in the gut. Not proud of it. But I got a job to do as well, and I gotta get to it. You go explore the market a bit. I'll be back in a few hours. Just don't get too rowdy. And if you need anything, you'll know where to find me.

He said, walking toward a shop. Astraia would wander around for a bit, taking in the sights and the sounds for a little while. While eating an apple, she noticed that two guards were disturbing a homeless person, nudging and kicking him around. No longer able to take this anymore, she rushed in, tackling one and hitting him repeatedly with one hand. The second guard would grab her hand, but she would backhand him with her tail. She would get up, standing over the guard, leaning toward him.

ASTRAIA: Well, shite, mate. Ain’t you supposed to be the ones to protect and serve? Or are you trying to take scum off the streets? Because it ain’t workin' either way.

The first guard would get up and try to stab her with a sword, but with a quick motion, she moved the blade with her karambit and toss it to the knee of the guard, as he falls to the ground in agonizing pain. She would turn to the homeless person.  Astraia would look over at the man with the sun behind her, extending her scale-covered hand to help him up. He would grab her hand, and she would pull him up.

ASTRAIA: Get up, sir. You alright? Any injuries? Any bruises or anything? No? Good. now, if you'll excuse me...

She would walk towards the two guards, picking up the first one and pushing him up against a wall. 

ASTRAIA: Unless you want more of what you just got, you will not bother this man anymore. Understood?

The guard would nod his head.

ASTRAIA: Good. 

She would drop him to the floor, yanking her karambit out of his knee. The second guard would notice this, and look at the saurian. 

ASTRAIA: Get him a medic. Don't come anywhere near this man. And don't even think about getting me arrested, because the law will not protect you.

As the second guard was escorting the first one away, she turned to the homeless person.

ASTRAIA: Sorry you had to see that. I'm usually much nicer on a social level.

More guards would head her way. 

ASTRAIA: Whoops, got to go. See ya. 

She said, jumping around to climb up a building. The guards would chase her, but as they couldn't find her, she was already gone. Meanwhile, Sabbia is ending his shift, drinking water while telling a joke to some other people at the place he's eating.

SABBIA: …He asked the doctor "how long do I have to live?" to which the doctor replies with "five.". "Five what?" and the doctor says "Four, Three, Two..."

Everyone would start laughing at his joke, and after the laughter, he would say goodbye and pay for his meal. heading out to the door, he sees his sister.

SABBIA: I didn't know you'd back here already.

ASTRAIA: Well about that, we gotta go. Like right now.

SABBIA: Wait, wait. Hold up. What did you do this time?

ASTRAIA: Don't worry about it, we just have to get--

The door would break down, with swords and spears pointed at the saurians.

ASTRAIA: Out of here.

SABBIA: Something tells me I should worry about it.

GUARD #1: You will have to answer for your crimes, saurian.

Astraia would jump into action, slashing at the guards with her karambit, but they would all back up.

SABBIA: Oh screw this.

He said taking the sand from his pockets to make a sand knife and jumped around to block attacks directed towards Astraia.

SABBIA: What did I tell you about getting in trouble.

ASTRAIA: Hey, don't blame me. They started it.

One of the guards would try to stab her, but she would block his sword, and slice him on his shoulder, and the two would run off to the market. Walking outside, they're noticed by Muchacha.

MUCHACHA:  God's sake, I should have known.

SABBIA: Excuse me, General, could you give us a second?

MUCHACHA: Uh, sure?

Sabbia would turn to his sister, whispering to her.

SABBIA: What. Did. You. Do.

ASTRAIA: I stopped some guards from kicking around a homeless guy, okay?!

SABBIA: Astraia, why is it always violence with you?

ASTRAIA: It's justified violence if the people being violated are pieces of shit who abuse their position.

SABBIA: What the hell am I even doing with my life...?

Sabbia would facepalm, and the two would look at the guards rushing towards them.

MUCHACHA: Hey, what happened over there?

The guards would point their spears at the saurians.

GUARD #1:The small red one attacked us.

ASTRAIA: Okay, I've had it up to here with you bastards.

She said, as she violently approaches the two, but the sand bender would hold her in place.

SABBIA: No, the hell you don't.

MUCHACHA: That's not fair. If she has a reason, I'll have to listen to her.

She'd say,  holding her sword.

MUCHACHA: Guards, leave them alone. I can handle this.

GUARD #1: But, Madam, the law says-

MUCHACHA: I am the law. Now leave.

She'd say as the guards would disperse. Sabbia would let go of his sister, and she would proceed to explain her reasoning.

ASTRAIA: They were harassing a homeless man. And I couldn't stand that for more than six seconds, so naturally, I acted on it.

MUCHACHA: Well, that was a horrible thing to do. You could have talked it out, you know.

ASTRAIA: Look, miss, I'm not the type of girl to sit down and talk.

Muchacha would think about this for a second, and say the following.

MUCHACHA: Alright, I have decided to let this slide, only on the condition that you don't do it again.

ASTRAIA: ... No promises.

SABBIA: Are you serious, sis?

Muchacha would look at them with an unimpressed look, as Astraia, rolling her eyes, would respond by raising her hands.

ASTRAIA: Okay, fine, I won't do it again.

MUCHACHA: Good, now if you excuse me, I have things to do.

She said, and the two would walk away. She would head off, thinking about Sabbia’s sister, and wondering how she was able to defeat several highly trained guardsmen at once. Shaking her head, she continued her job.

[seramilla]

Had this brewing in my brain for too long..

Since the wrath wring is like all about farm land and the country side, I imagine they have a lot of traditions that the other rings of hell don't do. One of those things is a yearly fighting tournament that includes things like boxing and wrestling.

Odette and Clara have participated in the tournament before (without their mother's knowledge) when they were teenagers but had made it to the semi finals before a horse demon punctured Odette's lung by kicking her on accident.

But they hadn't participated in years and they're a lot stronger than when they were teens. So at around 3 to 4 am on the morning of the tournament, they sneak out of the house(somehow escaping both kiki and Verosika's grasps) and ride out to wrath to participate in the tournament.

The first time Odette and Clara ever left the Pride right, they were bright-eyed, bushy-tailed young demons exploring their limitations for the first time. In theory, they knew they could leave the Pride ring. Their mother was an angel, after all, and while their father was a Sinner, Charlie was able to come and go as she pleased. It should work the same for them, right?

They sneak out to the Wrath ring for some kind of tournament, where they could truly test themselves among the other Hellborn. But being the overconfident, unprepared teenagers they were, they got their asses handed to them by a couple of imps: a tiny one named Millie and her sister Sallie May. Clara broke her arm in three places, and Odette got a minor puncture to her lung from a Hellhorse that she barely managed to dodge. They were able to get back to Pride before their mother woke up the next day, but they vowed to train harder, build up more influence in the Pride ring, and try again in the future.

Several years later, Clara reminds Odette of the shenanigans they got into as kids. They're adults now, and much more mature, by this point, but Clara says how much fun it would be to enter the tournament again anonymously and see how far they could get this time. No angelic weapons, no help from their angelic abilities -- just the two of them in hand-to-hand combat like the good old days. Odette agrees it could be fun. They tell their respective partners they're going away for a weekend. No one questions when they leave in the middle of the night -- except Verosika, she's so freaking clingy, bless her heart -- but they get to Wrath early the next day without a hitch.

Unfortunately for them, one of the former contestants who once gave them a run for their money, Millie, has been banned from any future events for causing nine of the fifteen funerals one year! They are distraught, but still give it their all. Sallie May is just as formidable as ever, and much stronger than she looks. She's dominating the tournament! Odette isn't as scrappy as her sister, so she taps out in the semi-finals, to try and give Clara a more forward line to victory. Clara tries her best, and she and Sallie May fight practically to the death, but Clara is smart enough to know she still isn't a match for Sallie May on her own turf. She also ducks out at the last minute, and Sallie May takes home the win!

Despite their near losses, Odette and Clara still make fast friends with Millie and Sallie May. Odette and Clara promise to get better for next year, and the imp sisters say they can't wait to battle with them again!

As the reigning champ, Sallie May is unbanning Millie once and for all!

To celebrate the new short that just came out today!

[sporesgalaxy]

Hey sorry kind of weird ask but could you give a list of media you recommend to people? Or just things you like because your taste has been very similar to mine in the past....... And you do cool stuff about that so it's always double good.

If you want obv, it's just that I've finished a serie (that I also checked out because of some of your posts chdjsk)... Idk... You cool 👍

thanks!!! and youre in luck!! i am extremely forgetful so I literally keep a list of Medias I Like and it's been a while since I tried to think of more stuff to add to it! so here you go!

•••

medias that tapped directly into my brain:

sci fi

Spy Kids 1 2 & 3

Invader Zim

Portal 1&2

Danny Phantom

Psychonauts

Wander Over Yonder

Mob Psycho 100

Spider-man: Into the Spiderverse

fantasy

Bionicle: The Mask of Light

Shrek & Shrek 2

Spirited Away

Adventure Time

My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic

The Book of Life

Loki: Agent of Asgard (comic)

Soul Eater (manga & anime)

Madoka Magica

Paranatural (webcomic)

Dungeon Meshi

Nimona

mystery/suspense/spooky

Gravity Falls

Coraline

Paranorman

JJBA part 4 Diamond is Unbreakable

Hannibal (2013)

Smile for Me

Ace Attorney 1 thru 4

Perfect Blue

Chainsaw Man (manga part 1)

Dorohedoro (manga)

REWROTE my brain permanently

Spore

Atlantis the Lost Empire

Sonic Adventure 2

Sharkboy & Lavagirl

Sonic The Hedgehog 1999 OVA

Undertale

Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions

Princess Tutu

Revolutionary Girl Utena

Midnight Gospel

Neon Genesis Evangelion

Good Omens (book & show)

Everything Everywhere All at Once

Trigun

other extremely powerful stuff I can think of

Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood

The Stanley Parable

Undertale & Deltarune

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Knives Out

Never Satisfied (webcomic)

honorable mentions

Teen Titans (2003)

Kung Fu Panda

Transformers: Prime

The Owl House

Pokemon Sun

Pokemon Legends Arceus

Thor 1, 2, & Ragnarok

Kingmen 1 & 2

this might look weird or lame but HEAR ME OUT

Ben 10 (2005, 2008, 2010, 2012)

Hoodwinked! (2006)

Ninjago

Thor: Tales of Asgard

Super Robot Monkey Team Hyperforce Go!

Dan Vs.

Barbie: Life in the Dream House

Beetlejuice broadway musical

Half Life VR but the AI is Self Aware

has issues but HILARIOUS to enjoy with gay friends

Ouran High School Host Club

Code Geass

Bayonetta 1 & 2

[n3on-graveston3s-calling]

Are You There? Are You Coming Home?

Word Count: 1,382 Rating: Teen Characters: Bartholomew Kuma, Monkey D. Luffy, Portgas D. Ace, Straw Hat Pirates, Kizaru | Borsalino, Silvers Rayleigh Warnings: Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury Blood, Anxiety, Trauma, Hurt No Comfort, Tragedy, Angst, Major Character Death, Sabaody Archipelago Arc, Marineford Arc Spoilers Author's Notes: Decided to finally take part in a whump event. @febuwhump ; get ready for a month of pain, y'all. I got plans. For Febuwhump 2024 Day 1: Helpless

Please note: This contains spoilers for the end of the Sabaody Arc & for Marineford.

I'm sorry, Ace. I really do love you.

You can also find this on my Archive.

“Oh, Ace, are you there? Are you coming home?”

Once, when he and Ace were younger, they got lost in the woods. This hadn’t been longer than a month after Ace had arrived, when he was still learning the rules of the house and the lay of the land. He hadn’t listened to Luffy, had led them in a circle until that circle veered off the path. They were helpless, lost in the dark of the forest as the sun began to sink below the horizon. Lost, helpless, clinging to one another while Ace tried to be brave and strong but he was shaking just as much as Luffy was, until Dadan found them an hour after sundown.

Turns out, they were only twenty five feet from the opening of the forest. They weren’t that helpless.

Helpless.

It’s a strange feeling to experience, helplessness. Normally, you are the one who is taking care of everything, who is coming to the aid of everyone. But suddenly, and without warning, you are the one who is helpless.

The ground was spongy beneath Luffy’s feet. It’s like moss; he’d mentioned that when they first made port at this Archipelago. How had things gone from bad to worse in hours? It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. Why were there so many Kumas? How was that possible? It wasn’t in his Devil Fruit, he wasn’t supposed to be able to make multiples of himself. Had someone cloned him?

Zoro.

Zoro. He croaked out some semblance of his name, as if calling out would do any good, would bring him back from whatever it was that Kuma had done to him. Was he dead? Did Kuma kill his best friend, his other half, his partner, his first mate? The concept stole the breath from his lungs, bringing forth a rage he didn’t think was possible. But his body was weak; injured, he could feel his ribs creaking with each breath he drew in. “HEY! WHAT DID HE DO TO ZORO?” Luffy yelled at the scar-faced kid who kept calling the Admiral his Uncle.

( Uncle? What a weird family, but who is he to judge? He just wants to get this done with, so he can get the ship coated, and get to Ace. Where is Ace? He needs to find Ace. He needs to find his big brother because his big brother needs him. Why was his Vivre Card so damaged? Was he injured? Was he alone? Was he helpless, too, in this moment? He needs to find Ace. He promised Dadan that they’d return together one day. He can’t break that promise to their mother. )

“They say anyone Kuma touches with his paws goes flying for three days and nights. But no one knows if that’s true. Only Kuma himself…” the rest of what was said simply went in one ear, out the other, as Luffy’s attention turned towards the rest of his crew scattered about. Old Man Rayleigh had been keeping the Admiral distracted, which was good, but Zoro… Zoro was gone?

“RUN, YOU GUYS!” Luffy screamed, throat raw from the force of his cry. Franky started to run, he could see him, but stopped because Nami wasn't following. Why wasn’t Nami following?! Brook- Brook was talking. Wait, no, no, no! “Brook!” He cried as Kuma tapped the newest member of the crew. Brook vanished into thin air.

He needed to move. Why didn’t he move? His legs weren’t answering his brain. His crew was vanishing before his eyes and he couldn't save them. Why couldn’t he move?! Move, damn it! Body! Listen! Move! MOVE! MOVE! MOVE-

“RUN, SANJI! PLEASE!” He tried to warn his beloved cook, only for Usopp to stand up, to try to attack. Before he could even scream- he’s gone. Usopp was gone, and then Sanji, and oh, Gods, this was happening. This wasn’t a nightmare. They’re gone, his crew was gone. “How do I…?” How do I move? How do I fight someone who, with one touch, can make me vanish, too? How do I save my crew when half of them have already vanished? How do I become the King of the Pirates if I can’t even protect the ones I love most?

Gear Two did nothing. Nothing except expend more energy that he didn’t have, he realized too late. He was flung back, wheezing with each breath as blood filled his lungs, as he struggled to cough it up. Franky was next, vanishing from sight; he heard Robin scream for him beside his own garbled screech. That’s right; Robin and Franky had gotten close. Were they lovers?

For a brief moment, Luffy wonders what it’s like to have someone love you in that way.

Until Nami screamed, breaking his thoughts. “NAMI!”

“HELP-” she’s gone.

She’s gone, and his arm was outstretched as if to grab her, to pull her into the safety of his arms. Kuma had hit him away again like an annoying gnat. He rose, turned, but it was too late as Chopper was suddenly gone. “ROBIN, RUN!” He cried helplessly, tears welling as he watched Kuma reach out, as Robin met his gaze.

She wasn’t afraid.

She was gone.

( He remembers once, when Dadan had left and hadn’t told him that she was leaving to get a few things from town. He woke to an empty house, to silence, and it feels a lot like this. This sudden dread of being alone. Of not knowing what’s happening, of what to expect next, because nothing is making sense anymore. )

His breath caught in his chest, a cry rose from his lips but only spilled out in the form of a warbling sound that’s more apt for an animal rather than a person. His fingers drug through his hair, tugged on dark, curly strands hard enough that they separated, snapping away from his skull, dragging forth sparks of pain that did nothing but agitate him further. He wheezed, blood mixing with mucus, as he leaned forward. His forehead met the ground once, twice, thrice; nails scratched at the freshly revealed dirt, breaking off with the grooves that he dug. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t save any of them!” He wheezed as tears rolled freely down his cheeks, streaked through dirt and grime and blood.

His crew was gone, because of him. Because he wasn’t able to intervene. They tried to save him, and in response, he couldn’t save any of them. What sort of shit captain was he? That man, the Admiral, was speaking but it sounded like a hundred mosquitoes buzzing within his ears. He rose up onto his knees-

“We will never meet each other again. Farewell.”

That was the last time Monkey D. Luffy saw Bartholomew Kuma. Or, the real Kuma, that is.

When he was helpless to save his crew.

“Hello? This is Dadan, are you there? Are you coming home?”

The same way he is helpless, now. Marineford is in a full out brawl, and he is trying to get to Ace, but people keep getting in his way, and they won’t fucking move, and he feels like he can’t draw enough oxygen in. “ACE!” He screams, hoping that his voice will reach his brother. “I’M COMING!” He is coming for him.

He can’t be helpless again. Not again, even as his lungs burn with the effort to breath, as his ribs ache with each expanse, as his muscles feel close to tearing as they stretch like rubber to launch him through the crowd of pirates and marines, of guns and blades and oh, god.

He can hear Ivankov yelling at what would be Kuma behind him.

He can see the platform. He can see Ace, kneeling on the platform. Ace, who is beaten and bloodied and is he crying? He can’t tell, but his big brother is right there and he can see him.

He still feels helpless, twenty feet from the platform. Like they’re back in that forest, alone, and scared, and crying for Dadan to save them. To find them. To help them.

He feels even more helpless as he kneels with a body slumped against him, with warm blood coating his front, his legs, his arms.

Monkey D. Luffy was helpless.

“Sorry, Dadan. We’re not coming home.”

[wonik1ss]

౨ৎ The Office of IVE ! — an yujin [ 1.0k ]

001. new recruit [half-written] | masterlist

taglist : @dearyujimin @aeriniee @jinsoulinator @dollinin @minaripenguu @gayforalll @hyejuwu @tenjito @baewonlove @strawberrytoki

a/n : hyunseo is lessso btw !

BEEP-BEEP-BEEP

you rubbed your eyes as you forced yourself to get up. as you put on your glasses and opened your phone you giggled

gaeul : she fucking forced me to teacher the newbies !

you quickly texted the angry secretary backs and got ready for work. you yawned as you turned on your coffee machine and cracked an egg over your only pan.

“did you see gauel’s text ! it was supposed to be me but I told our dear yujinnie gaeul ‘loves the youth’”. as wonyoung laughed you slapped her arm.

“your going to get her in anger management classes !”

“again !”. wonyoung giggled as she picked up your cat. you threw more eggs and popped some bacon in your air fryer as wonyoung cooed at your little ginger cat.

“sooooo”. you turned around looking for plates as wonyoung tapped the counter.

“yujin updates !”. you racked your brain for some gossip to feed the girl. wonyoung had come up with the idea that yujin just had a massive crush on you and was misting being mean to show she cared. and for the three months she spewed this shit your rejected it.

“uh.. she glared at me?”. wonyoung slapped your counter making your cat jump off her lap.

“that’s all you got..”. wonyoung pouted as you gave her, her plate of food.

“your making your food sad..”. wonyoung rolled her eyes. the bacon was almost black and upside down with two eggs on top.. that looked mutated.

“I brought breakfast donuts don’t worry”. you sighed as wonyoung took the box of two donuts from her back pack.

“hay why do you have th-“

“sleep over~”. you threw your head back as you poured some water in your cats bowl and some food. she ran around your feet before finally eating it.

“yes ! you know you want a free facial !”. you sighed as you grabbed your work bag and tried to pull down your skirt.

“omg it’s not even that short ! it’s the longest miniskirt I have for christ sake y/n !”. you laughed as you shoved the donut in your mouth and wonyoung ran with hers out your door.

“oh my good I hope you get that bonus soon I’m tired of uberring everywhere..”. you sighed as you ate the last of your donut. wonyoung gave you a piece of gum while she finally took a bite of hers.

“buy your own car?”. wonyoung laughed as you put your lipstick back on. bump

you sighed as wonyoung whipped off the smudge from your cheek and reapplied your lipstick. it was well known by your group that wonyoung had money. she just didn’t use it cause you all didn’t have money like she did. unless it was clothes, or some random campaign or girl scouts cookies wonyoung never spent more then four hundred bucks a week. which she knew was a lot but she just loved miu miu to much.

“shit it didn-“. wonyoung pouted as you ate the last bite of her donut and ran around the car to open her door. she then smiled and tipped the driver twenty bucks. you glared at her.

“what.. he called my outfit skirt”

“you mean the cropped shirt.. the short skirt and the unproperly tied tie?”. wonyoung gasped. but as you entered the building fixed her tie behind you. when you entered the office gauel’s head was on her desk, liz was talking to the new recruits and rei was typing away.

“hey I’ll see you at lu-“

“mrs. y/l/n can you step into my office”. you jumped and wonyoung laughed. you gave her the finger and then fast walked to yujin’s office.

“wh-“

“mrs…. lee..”

“lee hyunseo”. your eyes darted to the teen girl sitting far far far end of your bosses long table.

“yes.. needs a tour of the place and a run through because she was just hired yesterday”. you but your lip, smile and nodded urging hyunseo to follow you.

“oh thank you mrs..”. you had already left. Yujin sighed as she opened her computer and typed ‘praise was not heard’ in her notes app titled ‘confess to y/n’.

as you showed hyunseo around she started to look less wide eyed and more scared. as you approached the new recruit area you stopped her.

“they aren’t going to bite”

“how do you know that?”

“cause I was one of them”. hyunseo tilted her head of the idea of you relating to her.

“really..?”. you patted her head and she cracked a smile.

“ya don’t worry just excuse yourself to the bathroom if you need help”. the younger girl nodded as she waved you goodbye and went into the glass room. immediately you heard a grown.

“you ok eul?”

“fuck no”. you laughed and gaeul pulled her head of her desk.

“oh.. yujin left this for you it’s not poisoned I checked”. you smile dropped as you saw pink lipstick in the coffee. but it creeped up again when you saw the untouched cupcake box.

“you know maybe wo-“

“no no no, have a good day keep the coffee”. you grabbed the cupcake and ran to your desk while gaeul sipped her coffee.

as the recruits left the office the same girl from years ago showed them to their desks. hyunseo was last and sat right across of you next to yeojin. you quickly texted and she turned around and winked at you.

[themarshmallownerd]

What You Want, What You Need

Summary: At a formal party, Natalie drinks in attempts to feel normal again. Instead, she muses on just how abnormal she feels apart from her fellow survivors.

Relationships: Lottie Matthews/Natalie Scatorccio

Rating: Teen (T) for depictions of drinking and suggestive language

Link: What You Want, What You Need (AO3)

A/N: For those of you who followed me for the botched-resurrection AU, don't worry, that is still in the works. The latest chapter is about 3/4s of the way done, so you can expect that sometime in the next week. In the meantime, depression has had me in its grips lately, so as a coping mechanism, I wrote some pointless fluff. Hope you enjoy ❤️

Preview: She unceremoniously pushes herself to sit up, senses swimming a little in disorientation as she learns anew that this isn’t her house. Once what little remains of her rational brain catches up with her, she turns slightly to Lottie and the others to announce, “I’m gonna get another drink.”

And apparently, Lottie doesn’t love her anymore, because she just says, “OK, hon,” and doesn’t make any move to go with her.

Natalie frowns. In her state, it makes no sense to go anywhere without her girl. The mere thought makes her stomach lurch in panic (nevermind the fact that she’ll just be going to the kitchen, which is literally on the opposite side of the very wall she and Lottie are currently sitting against).

“No,” she tries to say, the sound coming out strangely quiet and garbled by tears she did not bid herself.

“Hmm?” Lottie hums in confusion.

“No,” Natalie repeats, forcing her voice to come out more clearly. She gives a huff, irritated with herself for suddenly forgetting how to string her thoughts together in cohesive words. “No, I need…you hafta’ come wi’ me. I’m…don’ wanna lose you again. So…I need you to come wi’ me so I don’t lose you, ‘cause…cause ‘m gonna miss you, and…i’s gonna feel bad. ‘M gonna lose you.”

Another self-exasperated huff. Why was she having such a hard time speaking? Why was her fucked up brain making it so hard?

Fuck, she was going to cry. She wants so badly not to cry, but her determination only seems to aggravate the building tears further.

Fortunately, Lottie doesn’t question why the notion of being apart makes her so anxious. Rather, she sits up a little straighter, taking Nat’s hand in one of her own. “Hey, it’s OK. I can come with you.”

On the other side of Lottie, Taissa shifts in her seat, gently tapping Van’s knee in a silent request to let her stand up. “We’ll all go. I need a refill too, and I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

For all of her tough, standoffish attitude in most everyday situations, Taissa also had a tendency to turn very soft—if not a little awkward—when it came to handling someone in tears. Hence, Nat suspects it has something to do with her when Taissa makes that suggestion, and not the fact that her wine glass has been empty this entire time.

And with that, all four of them migrate to the kitchen, forming their own little privatized party as they drink around the island there. The remainder of the tequila bottle passed between Natalie and Van, a more proper glass of wine for Taissa, and a can of pop for Lottie (her current medications don’t mix well with alcohol). With the Taylors now lurking somewhere in the next room, the topic of conversation has now switched to more benign matters, like how Taissa really feels about her law school classmates, or why Van thinks Scream is the best thing to happen to the horror movie community.

Natalie tries to participate a little more in the conversation this time, grateful as she is that the other women came indoors with her. But before long, she finds herself simply standing behind Lottie, arms wrapped around her middle and nuzzling her pretty black hair. Nat sways them both slightly, to channel the outpour of giddiness inside of her to have someone in her life that she likes touching so much.

She’s always been kind of finicky with physical affection. But once she finds someone she knows well enough, she loves it. Even if it’s just little things, like taking someone’s hand to lead them somewhere, or leaning on them when she’s tired (which is probably why there were so many rumors she was a slut in high school, sleeping with all of her friends, who were mostly guys at the time). It was a surprise to her when she first started sleeping with Lottie—the same Lottie who once thought they could survive being stranded in the Wilderness by holding hands and tuning into each other’s spirits or some shit—and found that Lottie was actually the more physically reserved one between them. Not that Lottie was averse to touch; she just wasn’t used to it.

In hindsight, Natalie supposes it makes sense. Lottie’s family never struck her as the most affectionate type (hell, her parents were barely even present in their daughter’s life), and Lottie never had any really close friends of her own back in their school days. The forced closeness of the Wilderness undid some of that learned self-isolation. But still, there was an adjustment period to the ready availability of touch—particularly from Natalie—when it became a matter of desire and intimacy instead of strictly warmth and survival.

Eventually, Shauna finds them. Rather than be upset that Nat and Van have nearly finished her tequila, she simply joins in, taking a long swig in order to finish the very last of it. With one of the party hosts now hiding away from the rest of the event, the other guests don’t stay for much longer. They trickle into the kitchen little by little, bidding their good-byes over the course of the next half-hour. It doesn’t occur to Natalie that this means the party’s over Shauna makes an offer to drive Taissa and Van home, since they live nearby. 

By now, Natalie feels even more unsteady and fragile than she did before (apparently drinking more liquor didn’t cancel out the bad feelings like she had originally hoped). She latches onto Lottie’s hand as the latter begins heading for the front door. Her heart is doing a painful climb up her throat, as though choking her before she can panic too much at the notion of the only people she actually feels normal around leaving her behind, with nowhere really to go. 

Her tongue feels strangely fuzzy, like an alien weight moving in her mouth as she tries to speak. She tugs on her and Lottie’s joined hands for attention. “Can…‘an you…take me wi’ you?”

Lottie smiles at her, all warmth and affection and everything that makes Natalie’s sloshed brain want to melt. “Of course, Nat.”