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getitoutofmymindwrites · 3 months

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New beginnings | joel miller x f!reader, 7.8k

Summary: What happens when you run into that handsome stranger from the bar at Trish’s house? Where do the two of you stand two years after this unexpected encounter?

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, some back and forth on the timeline, mutual pinning, light angst, slow-burn, a smidgen of fluff, cursing, Joel being kind of a prick, Joel being an idiot, insecurities, let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Part two of the I don’t even know your name series and yes, I know it’s been a long time coming, sorry about that! I’m confident (well, aren’t you a bold one?) that the third part will be coming much, much sooner! Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all!

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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BEFORE

You know that warmth. You remember it. His warmth. His large, calloused hand completely encircles yours as you formally introduce yourselves. If his reflexes weren’t fast enough, you’d still be staring at him, unable to believe he’s standing right before you.

The storm of all those memories overwhelmed you and Joel realized that, unlike the rest of your company who continued to stand behind your back in blissful ignorance. Your mind had become detached from your body, which seemed to make decisions of its own; you were ready to do anything at this moment.

If he chose to show his hand and acknowledge you, you would follow his lead. If -by some miracle- he chose to lean in and kiss you, you would reciprocate. If he chose to pretend he didn’t know you, you would put up with it. You would do anything to be good for him, no common sense left in your dazed mind. But his face is serious and his warm, dry hand is firmly on yours, squeezing it lightly, in a silent form of communication, I know; it’s ok; get a grip; what the fuck. He doesn’t let go of your hand, acting as an anchor, until you decide you feel grounded enough to handle the situation. It’s at that moment that you can tell he’s waitin’ for you to be in control of the narrative. Whatever you say, goes.

You take a deep breath and tell him your name, as you finally release your hand from his and move aside to let him enter the house. The muscles between his eyebrows and around his mouth twitch imperceptibly, almost in disappointment, you think. His scent as he passes by you, hits your nostrils and your memories flood back into your mind, even stronger than before. Your body tenses and you feel your nipples tighten against the fabric of your bra. You begin to wonder how you’re gonna make it through the night.

You all move into the living room while dinner is being prepared, except for Trish who excuses herself to the kitchen. Tommy sits on the couch next to you while Joel is standing in front of the window with his arms crossed over his chest and Sarah is relaxing in her favorite spot, on some big fluffy cushions randomly scattered on the floor next to the fireplace, scrolling through her phone.

“Trish, do you need a hand?” you try to keep your voice steady, although you desperately need an excuse to leave the room. No such luck. “No babe”, comes the wrong answer, “I got it, you chill and have fun!” Why she has to be such a good friend is beyond you. You smile awkwardly and look everywhere but in Joel’s direction. Tommy puts you all out of your misery by asking you about your relationship with Trish.

“Oh, we’ve been best friends for a long time, done pretty much everything together,” you explain, deliberately raising your voice for the last part, “it’s starting to get unhealthy if you ask me,” you look towards the kitchen entrance, waiting for her reaction. “You’re not moving outta here any time soon, missy, so stop whining!” comes the reply from the kitchen. You grin as Tommy and Sarah laugh. Joel just stares at you with a scowl on his face.

“Are you staying long?” Tommy continues.

“Tommy.” Joel warns him.

“I’m just making conversation sunshine, ‘mnot being nosy!”

“It’s ok, really, no problem at all.” you intervene, feeling sorry for Tommy, still avoiding looking directly at Joel. “I’ll be out of her hair, as soon as I find a place to move to..”

“No, you won’t!” Trish protests. “Yes, I will!” you deadpan, “I told you it was getting unhealthy.”, you wink at Tommy before you could stop yourself. Why the hell did you wink at him? You need to calm down before you do something stupid. Joel’s fingers tighten, clutching his arms tighter to his chest. Shit, you don’t think straight when you’re stressed. Tommy seems to like it, though.

“Maybe we could help you”, Tommy offers, “we see lots of places ‘cause of our job, we could keep you in mind if something good comes up.”

“Tommy.” Joel drags his brother’s name across his tongue as a warning. You look at him quizzically for the first time since your handshake, wondering what they do for a living. Fortunately, you work up the courage to ask Joel directly, before Tommy has time to protest to his brother again.

“I’m a contractor” Joel informs you with the slightest hint of annoyance, as if he was reluctant to share this mundane information, “and Tommy works with me.”

“Oh, that’s cool!”, you raise your eyebrows in admiration, your eyes brightening. He takes his eyes off you and you wither inside.

“Well, never heard that one before. Joel is cool.” Tommy says in mocking surprise, giggling. You look flustered and Joel looks annoyed. “She didn’t say I was cool.” he frowns at his brother, “I know my job is far from fancy, you don’t have to just say that.” he turns his reply to you, displeased with your comment.

God, you feel like a little child in his presence, he can’t just chastise you like that, you have two kids of your own, you’re an adult, for Christ’s sake. “I know I’m not,” you say defensively and you start to get irritated. This is how the night is going to unravel? “I mean it. I have always admired people who can build and repair things with their own hands. Three pairs of eyes are now looking at you, all of them quite surprised.

Joel has absolutely no confidence in himself to start a conversation with you right now, but his curiosity gets the better of him. So, “How so?” is the next thing that comes out of his mouth.

Your eyes widen slightly in startlement at his sudden elaboration, you hadn’t expected him to continue the conversation. “Uh,” you sigh, raising your brows in deep thought and shaking your head slightly, “maybe it has something to do with my dad, he was always good at fixing things. I don’t know, it made me feel safe, taken care of. Still does, even the thought of it. I always thought that if the world ever came to an end, your kind would be the ones to survive.” you shrug, unable to look Joel in the eye and fidgeting with your fingers on your lap, the answer more intimate than you intend it to be. But you give it anyway, for him.

You want him to know that you would never lie or make fun of him. That night, however indifferent it was to him, made him indelibly etched in your memory. And even though your interaction was so brief, one night out of the thousands in your life, it made you feel something for him. Childish as it may sound, you felt he deserved your respect in some way.

There’s a moment’s silence in the room, Joel staring down at his feet, not wanting to look emotional. Taken care of. He can’t get the words out of his head; it’s what he felt for you that night, what he wanted to offer you before his chance was torn apart by the fucking knoc-

“Our kind?” Tommy intervenes once more.

“Yeah,” you try not to blush, but you can feel the heat in your cheeks, “you know, resourceful, competent, reliable.” Sarah tries to hide her grin behind her mobile phone, sneaking glances in Joel’s direction, little devil, while Tommy looks so pleased with your perception of their profession.

“Then you should definitely keep us close, take full advantage of us,” Tommy fills the silence, now his turn to wink at you, oh god, what a mess, “I’m in the same business, too, like Joel said.” Subtle. “We’d be more than happy to help darlin’, right Joel?” he turns to look at his older, brooding brother. Joel seems lost in thought or uninterested in answering. “Right?” he presses eagerly. Joel slowly raises his head, looks deep into your eyes and says nothing more than “Right” in a deep drawl of a voice. You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. He makes you feel so small but you feel a glob of arousal pooling on your underwear, making you wonder what the hell is wrong with you.

Tommy turns to you expectantly, his eyes shining under the lights in the room.

“Maybe I intend to.”, you smile softly, glancing briefly at Joel before turning your eyes back to Tommy. Joel’s body stiffens, giving you the impression he’s trying to hold something back.

“Is it something particular you’re interested in, so we know what we’re looking for?” To your and Joel’s dismay, Tommy doesn’t let up. Your eyes turn briefly to Joel for help, but he looks down again, his arms still stiff across his chest, as if they had a mind of their own and were capable of murder if he let them go at his sides.

“Uuuuh,” you laugh nervously, “anything will do considering my situation, I can’t really be picky.”

“What’s bothering you, sweetheart?” Tommy frowns worriedly. Joel stiffens at the sound of the endearment.

Where do you start with what’s going on in your life right now? Only one person -apart from Trish- seems to know and he doesn’t look very happy at the moment. “Well, Tommy, I’ve two kids, two little girls and I can’t find a place that is decent enough, at a good price and owned by someone who doesn’t mind renting their property to a single mom.” Tommy’s brows are raised so high in shock, they would touch his hairline if they could. “Goddamn, how the hell did that happen?”

“How did what happen?” you ask confused. “You,” he says, his eyes roaming all over you in a definitively not subtle way, “being a single mom with two kids. What the hell did he d-”

“Tommy.” Joel’s tone is more raised this time, shooting daggers at his brother, warning him again to drop it. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ” Joel mutters through his teet, a look of disbelief on his face at his brother’s lack of discretion and if you weren’t already looking at him, you wouldn’t have heard it.

Trish comes out of the kitchen before you or Tommy can react.

“Ok guys, let’s move it to the dining table.” she clasps her hands together, “Dinner will be ready in ten!”

While everyone’s attention is focused on Trish, including yours, Joel’s eyes penetrate you in a silent command to look at him. You feel him staring at you and you turn your attention to him. He continues to stare at you as he asks Trish if she has any tools to fix her bathroom cabinet, since Tommy forgot the one thing he was supposed to remember. He takes his eyes off you as the others laugh at his accusation and turn to look at him.

“Yeah, I think I have a small toolbox in the supply closet upstairs, next to the bathroom. I don’t remember exac-”

“That’s ok Trish, I’m going to check on the girls anyway, I’ll help Joel look for it.” you take the opportunity to excuse yourself.

You stand up carefully, feeling your legs go numb and praying you don’t trip and make a fool of yourself in front of everyone. Joel follows behind you as you go up the stairs. You can feel the tension between you, his body heat almost warming your back. He can’t be that close though, can h-

As soon as you reach the door to the bathroom, he opens it in a hurry and pushes you in, grabbing hold of your arm as he follows suit. You gasp at his gesture and turn to face him. His eyes bore into yours, searching for something. His arms are clenched in fists at his side, giving you the impression he’s trying to control himself.

You’re both silent, despite a vocabulary so vast, none of the words seem to fit your thoughts and emotions. “You’re OK.” He speaks first. It’s not a question, not a reassurance. It’s a statement of fact. You look confused, trying to work out where he is going with this. He thought you would break down at the sight of him? Well, he wasn’t wrong, but he didn’t need to know. “Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?” It comes out harsher than you intended.

You see in real time a series of thoughts crossing his eyes, something fragile and vulnerable in the air. But it passes as quickly as it came.

“Nothin’, nothin’.”, he shakes his head and closes his eyes, trying to clear his mind. He opens his eyes with a sigh and looks at you. You stare at each other for a good minute and then you both realize that you are together again, the two of you, in a small bathroom, behind a closed door. Your brain is blank, the only thought crossing it is to say something, say something, say something, but he beats you to it. “It’s best if we don’t tell them we know each other.” Is he serious right now? From all the things he could have said, this is what he came up with? You bite the inside of your cheek in frustration, “Well, I think we’re already past that, that firm handshake at the front door made that quite clear.”

“You played along, though. So, don’t go around accusing m-”

“Hey, hey, I’m not accusing you of anything, where is this even coming from?” you frown in confusion. He wanted you to admit you knew him in front of everyone? In front of his daughter? “Hey, guys, how do you know each other?” “Oh, we almost fucked in a bar bathroom!”. That would have gone well.

“Yeah, I’m just sayin’-”

“Look, Joel, there’s nothing to say. It’s not like I was going to shout it over the rooftops anyway.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”, he looks offended for some reason.

“Means that there’s nothing to say.” you insist sternly. “Literally.”

He laughs nervously, obviously irritated. You don’t understand why, you thought you were making his life easier. What does he want from you? “Right, right,” is all he gives you, nodding his head a few times. You raise your hands in resignation, your eyebrows raised to your forehead, your mouth open, not knowing how to navigate the situation.

“What is your problem, what do you want me to say? You pretended not to know me when you saw me and you just told me, like 30 seconds ago, not to mention anything to anyone! I think I’m doing all right so far, don’t you? How am I pissing you of exactly?” your anger makes you raise your voice slightly.

He’s all over you in a second, pinning you between his body and the bathroom door. “Keep your goddamn voice down.” he grits through his teeth, his one hand a clenched fist at his side, the other next to your head, palm flat on the door. The sudden invasion of his scent in your nostrils and the fan of his breath on your lips is all you can register, but his words come back to you and your anger boils in your gut.

“Watch your tone with me, I’m not some child you can intimidate.” you shoot back. That seems to snap him out of his headspace and he backs away slightly. He exhales loudly from his nose and rests his forehead on his outstretched arm, the other now resting on his hip. His unruly locks are so close to your face that you can practically smell his shampoo. You clench your fist to resist running your fingers through his soft hair. “Shit,” he mumbles through closed eyes, he really doesn’t seem to be able to keep his eyes on you long enough, “’msorry”.

He smells so good, so delicious, that it takes every ounce of strength you have not to wrap your hands around his broad torso. You want this moment to yourself, to wrap your arms around him and comfort him, to plant kisses all over his face, to nuzzle your forehead where his thick neck meets his shoulder, to breathe him in. The corded muscles bulging under his tanned skin make you salivate. This guy is pissing you off and all you can think of is how you’d die to touch him. Great. You rest your head on the door behind you, close your eyes and grit your teeth, trying to regulate your breathing.

“’Msorry” he mutters again, shaking his head. He looks so worried and uncomfortable, you decide to give him another chance. Maybe he’s confused, too. You both had to make a call at such a short notice, with his whole family looking at both of you expectantly to introduce yourselves. It was the logical thing to do. Wasn’t it?

Maybe he’s afraid you’d expose your naughty deeds in front of his daughter. After all, no parent wants their child to know that they’ve almost had sex with a stranger in a bar. You totally understand. And to be honest, you did leave him all hot and bothered back in that bathroom and run the opposite way, so why would he want to be in the same room with you? He probably feels insulted by your reaction that night.

Or maybe- how did you not think of this before? Maybe he has a wife. But he’s not wearing a ring. Not that it matters, lots of people take their rings off at some point. Maybe he has a girlfriend. Wouldn’t she be here with them for dinner if that was the case? With him? He doesn’t look the type, either. The cheating one. But you hardly know him, you don’t really know much about him beyond what he told you about his past that night.

“Joel.” you call his name looking at him through your lashes, your head still resting on the door.

“Hm” he hums, still in the same position.

“Joel, hey.” you try to get his attention again, this time lifting your head to look straight at him, a gentle smile on your face.

His eyes finally meet yours in a subtle, tired hey, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly.

You hold each other’s gaze taking each other in, and you both laugh softly in a quiet understanding. But this feels so warm, so soft and tender, is he really that angry with you? He must be, otherwise why the tension? You should try and put him at ease.

“Look, I understand this is awkward and unexpected; I do. But we’re fine; we’re gonna be fine, Joel.” Damn, the sound of his name in your mouth. “I won’t say anything, really, don’t worry. We’ll have a nice meal, we’ll make the typical minimum small talk and when this night is over we’ll be out of each other’s hair, you won’t have to see me again if I can help it, I don’t mean any trouble, seriously.”

And there it is again, the disappointment. “Yeah, no, I know. Sorry I snapped at you.”

Joel looks as if he’s going to say something more, but at the last moment he changes his mind.

You nod in acceptance of his apology. “Let me hand you that toolbox, before they start wondering what’s taking us so long, hm?”

“Sure.”

“Do you need any help?”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Ok, I’m gonna check on the girls and then head downstairs.”

Joel nods as he takes the toolbox from you, careful not to touch you and crouches down on his knees to inspect the damage to the cabinet. You glance in his direction one last time, admiring his wide, strong form kneeling on the floor and then close the door behind you quietly.

“Fuck.” you both exhale on either side of the door.

Two rotations of the earth around the sun had passed and Joel had become a constant in your life. He came and went like the seasons, with an orbit of his own.

Winter.

His orbit was longer and colder. The distance between you grew, more so emotionally, as if something was holding him back. The domesticity of it all was too much for him, scratching at old wounds he tried too hard to keep buried. He always cared, always kept an eye on you, but from a safe distance.

Like the time you came home late from work and cursed yourself for not cooking dinner in advance. You were starving, but the thought of making something to eat seemed like too much trouble; you were exhausted. Thank goodness the girls had their dinner ready, all you had to do was heat it up. Two minutes after you let yourself in, the doorbell rang. You rushed out of the bathroom and opened the door to a takeaway, its temperature indicating that it had just been delivered to your doorstep. You looked around but saw no one. You were pretty sure it was a mistake, but then your phone vibrated,

Eat, while it’s hot.

Did you leave these outside?

Yes.

Why?

Trish told me you were caught up at work, thought I’d save you some time.

You just kept staring at the screen, your heart warm but your mind confused. A second text came while you debated what to answer him.

Need to take better care of yourself.

No, why ‘d you leave?

Summer.

His orbit was shorter and warmer, like a pleasant summer breeze. He was around more, more involved in your life.

Like the time he was in on your house hunting trip.

Like when he talked you into buying a house and not renting because he found one for you that was beautiful and ideal and close to Trish’s so you wouldn’t be alone and your daughters would love it and it was a family house. Yes, the house was a ruin. OK, maybe not a ruin, but really old. It was beautiful, but it had definitely seen better days. It needed a lot of renovation.

“Joel, I can’t afford this.” you said as you looked around, almost pained to have to say no. It was a really lovely house.

“Listen to me-” Joel tried to make his point but you interrupted him anyway.

“I am listening to you, that’s how you convinced me to consider buying a house instead of renting an apartment. But if I do, I’ll use up all my savings, I can’t afford a renovation of this magnitude,” you continued, looking around the house, moving from room to room, imagining how you would have decorated it if it was yours.

“I’m gonna help you with that.” he said bashfully.

“How are you going to do that, Joel?” you rolled your eyes at him.

“Do you remember what I do for a living?” Joel teased you and you glared at him.

“I’m not sure, I think you mentioned something about a contracting bussiness?” you mimicked him. “Joel, I’m serious. Of course I would choose you and Tommy if i could afford it.” you said in despair, eyes wide, hands in the air as if you’re pleading with him. Which you were.

“I’ll do it in my spare time.” he suggested, looking down at his feet, avoiding eye contact and hugging his chest with his arms, as if trying to protect himself from the vulnerable position he had put himself in.

It took you a minute to register what he was implying. Your jaw dropped, unsure of what to say when you did. Your heart ached with warmth and your breath caught in your chest. It was too much.

“There’s no way I’m accepting this, you know that.”

“I really don’t min-”

“Absolutely not, not in a million years.”

“Goddamn, you’re stubborn!” he snapped, not used to not getting his way. Take the fuckin’ help, goddamn it. Your eyes looked glazed, you never had the ability to deal well with people snapping at you quite well. Especially people you cared about. Joel felt your discomfort and immediately regretted his temper. Soft things needed gentle handling. And you were soft. So soft for this world. For him.

He stepped closer to you and engulfed your hands in his with a deep sigh. “Look, I’ve done the calculation. This is the best deal you can get. The price of the house is fair. In fact, between you and me, it’s low. And I’ve already worked out what needs to be fixed.” He paused, breathing in and exhaling a little harder. “I want to do this. For y- for the girls”, he stuttered and you looked down to where your hands met. These hands. His hands. Big and warm and capable. Capable of renovating your house, capable of holding your hands in his, capable of taking you apart piece by piece. Were they capable of putting you back together again?

Your whole body tingled with another wave of warmth at his touch. But it was too much. It was always too much with him. The unbearable distance or the suffocating closeness. All because he wouldn’t make up his damn mind. He couldn’t do that to you. Give you a glimpse of affection and then pull away. Because you were sure he would eventually. As he had done so many times before. This time you had to protect yourself. So you pushed him away the only way you knew how.

You tore your hands from his tender grip as you attacked him in a raised tone pointing at him. “We are not your responsibility!” You regretted it the moment you spat it out. You didn’t have to be so harsh. So quick to anger. Please, please be angry with me. Scream at me. Turn your back and walk away. Make me feel like shit.

He looked at you in shock, his eyebrows raised, a hint of sadness on his face. And something else, more subtle. As if in understanding. As if he could hear your thoughts. You were not his to care for. You were not his to protect. “I know that.” he sighed, squeezing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“Joel,-” you tried to take it back, there were not many things you hated more than what was happening right now. The fact that you couldn’t take back what you had just said. You felt terrible.

“Look,” he interrupted you, raising his arms in resignation. “I’m just trying to help. You moved states alone with two kids, starting from scratch. I just thought maybe I could ease some of the burden. It’s the decent thing to do.”

“Joel, you are cutting yourself short. This is beyond decent. Trish and you- and- and- Tommy and Sarah of course,” you mumbled embarrassingly, “you’re all I have and you have supported me in more ways than I can count. That’s why I can’t be a burden to you.”

“I didn’t mean you were a burden.”

“No, no, I know, this is not on you, this is me, I-”

His face was full of concern as he waited patiently for you to speak your mind.

“I don’t want to be a burden. Or to feel like one. Even if I know-, I know I’m not that to you. I know that. But just the thought of the possibility makes me freak out. That’s why I need to keep everything under control, because if I give it away, even a little, I don’t know how I could ever repay this kindness. I don’t even know if I’m worthy. I’m not-” your voice broke at this confession and you took a breath to recover, “my life is not easy to navigate, I don’t want anyone to stress over me.”

Joel seemed shocked for a moment, not believing what he was hearing. “You think you’re not worthy of kindness? That’s very cruel coming from someone like you.”

“Someone like me?”

“Yeah, someone good and kind and caring.”

“You must have me confused with someone else.” you joked, feeling uncomfortable at his praise.

“Darling, if I had known anyone else like you, I would have held on to them for dear life," he spat, before realizing what he had said. He laughed awkwardly, frowning at the slip of his tongue and looked around the room to avoid your gaze. Why don’t you hold on to me, then? was all you could think of, but you didn’t dare ask him. So you moved on, protecting the friendship.

“I just- Jesus, I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” you murmured through your teeth, “I was brought up to be strong, never to ask for help, otherwise it was considered a weakness. I learned to do everything myself. By the time my parents grew out of their own insecurities and urged me to be more open, more vocal, it was too late for me to change.” Why on earth are you telling him all this? Why did you mention your parents?

“So, you do kindness, but you don’t accept kindness.” Joel observed and you realized that you had never made that connection.

“I- I don’t know how to receive it; what to do with it.”

In the end, he practically forced his help on you, bit by bit, one sweet word at a time, day by day, until the house was a home. Everywhere you looked you saw Joel’s efforts.

You saw the care with which he worked on this house as if it were his own. You heard his laughter as you forced him to take a break and shoved food into his mouth, knowing he hadn’t eaten all day. Every step you took on the hardwood floors reminded you of his broad back as he knelt down to replace the old floor. Every shower you took was a painful reminder of his massive, veiny hands sweating as he reinstalled the hardware. Everything felt like Joel, even in his absence.

NOW

“What is this party for, again?” you call out from her bedroom as you apply your lipstick in front of her vanity mirror. You almost didn’t come, but you knew she’d drag your ass back to her place if you didn’t.

“This is fooor..” Trish replies from her en-suite bathroom as she searches for a good excuse, unable to find one. “You know what, I don’t need a reason to have a party! Think of it as a chance to see each other more!”

“Trish, we can do this without a million people around us and me leaving my kids with a babysitter.” you roll your eyes in fake exasperation.

“Your kids are gonna be just fine. They want you to have a good time.”

“They’re four and two years old, dude.”

“Well, in that case, they want you to find them a daddy.”

“Oh my god, Trish! Seriously?” you snort at her comment.

“That’s what’s the party’s all about! You finding yourself a daddy; if I’m being honest-”

“Please don’t!” you beg her to stop.

“-you need it more than they do. That is so perfect! I actually have a couple of guys in mind and they’re a bit older, just like you like ‘em-”

“What?” you swallow tightly and you’re glad she can’t see your face right now. “What are you talking about?”

Trish pops her head through the door and wiggles her eyebrows, “They’re about Joel’s age, is what I’m talking about.” You shake your head in denial, your eyes are closed in frustration. “Trish..”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, there’s nothing going on between you; that’s why you’re both hot and flustered every time you’re in the same room.” Your shoulders slump down but you don’t answer because this is getting old.

“What, nothing to say for yourself?” Trish weighs up your reaction and lack of response.

“Frankly, I don’t know what else to say to you.” you shrug in defeat.

“Fine, then find someone to fuck, tonight. That would clear up the air.. for all parties.” Thankfully, you’re saved by the bell, “Jesus..” you mutter to yourself as she leaves you once again to open the door for the first guests.

The party is a success by Trish’s standards, as the house is overflowing with guests. Some of them you knew, most of them you didn’t.

Joel is somewhere in the crowd, chatting to a couple of ladies who have trapped him between them, ogling him like vultures. You make it your mission to rescue him, judging by the desperate look on his face and the furtive glances he throws your way.

As you move to head to his direction, an arm gently encircles your elbow. You turn to see who it is, and are greeted by a stranger. Tall, broad, sweet brown all over his features. He exudes an earthy and secure aura.

“Hi.” the stranger smiles warmly at you, looking deep into your eyes.

“Um,” you blush, why on earth are you blushing, “hi!” you say back. Original.

“I’m Marcus, a colleague of Trish’s.”

“Oh, hi, nice to meet you!” you tell him your name and shake his hand.

“I knew I was right.” he says amusedly, as if talking to himself.

“About what?”

“Trish gave me your name and told me to come find you.”

“Excellent tracking skills, are you a detective or something?”, you tease him playfully.

“Yeah, something like that..”

“Oh- I-” the words catch on your tongue.

“But I had a great lead, wasn’t that hard, to be honest.” he adds.

“Can you share it with me, or you’ll have to kill me if you tell me?” you joke. He was so easy to talk to.

Marcus tips his head back, laughing, “I wouldn’t resort to such methods; let me buy you a drink and we’ll call it even.”

You look down at your hands, your cheeks red from his attention, rolling the bottle of beer you are holding between your palms, too tightly.

“I mean, not right now; I’m sure we could work something out if you’d indulge me.” he adds sheepishly, somehow sensing your train of thought.

God, he’s adorable and not too bad to look at. Actually, he’s quite handsome. “Well, I’ll have to see if your lead is worth my time first.”

Panic rushes through you as you realize the sound of what you said while trying to be funny, and you try to correct it quickly. “Not that- oh gosh-” you feel so embarrassed, but Marcus laughs heartily and shakes his head from side to side.

“Shit, sorry, it was a joke, that’s not the only reason I would go out with you-” Isn’t it? What are you doing? What is he doing to you? Where is Joel? Shit, Joel.

You steal a glance in his direction and he’s already watching your interaction with Marcus, his face hard and unreadable.

“Isn’t it?” Marcus’s voice draws your attention back to him, your eyelids flattering in confusion. He grins, pleased, but so sweet it’s impossible to roll your eyes at him. Your shyness pours through your body language, making Marcus want to comfort you.

“Hey, hey, it’s cool, don’t worry about it. I know it was a joke; I liked it.” he says honestly, “And even if that was the only reason I’m sure by the end of the night you would have changed your mind.” he gives you a lopsided smile, but there’s no smugness on his face.

When he starts to speak again, Trish interrupts, effectively shutting him down. “What took you so long, I thought you couldn’t find her!”

Marcus smiles again, warmth and familiarity washing over you instantly, “Oh, I found her, quite quickly.” his eyes twinkling.

Trish smirks as if she’s realized something, “Come on, I need you outside.”, she grabs your arm and pulls you along, “I’m gonna steal her for a bit, sorry to interrupt.”

“It’s OK, I’m confident I can find her again.”, Marcus winks at you and your heart skips a beat.

You start to walk away, but abruptly turn back, your curiosity overpowering you.

“Never told me about that lead.” you ask him, your eyes wide and wondering.

Marcus bites the inside of his cheek, looking briefly down and then meets your gaze with a hunger in his eyes. “Oh, I had to find the most dazzling woman in the crowd.”, he shrugs as if it was the most self-evident fact in the world. “Mission accomplished.”

You replayed your interaction with Marcus in your mind as you helped Trish light the lanterns on the porch. He had been so kind, direct and sweet, making you feel seen. What bothered you was your reaction. Your insecurity, your inability to believe that he was talking about you. The urge you had to fight when you thought of looking around the room to make sure he wasn't referring to someone else.

What bothered you most was that although it had been two years since you had separated from your husband, you had never felt insecure about yourself. He couldn’t make you feel that way. Of course you doubted yourself at first, looking for your share of the blame, but his actions spoke louder than words, and you couldn’t blame yourself for everything, even if you tried.

But Joel did. He made you feel insecure, vulnerable. With his mixed signals and his constant back and forth, he managed to drive you crazy. What did he want from you? Why couldn’t he make up his mind? Why weren’t you enough? Were you too much?

Maybe it wasn’t just Joel. Maybe anyone in his position would have the same concerns. Perhaps Marcus would do the same if he found out about your family status. Where did that come from? You don’t even know the guy, stop it.

“OK,” you hear Trish behind you, “all set, let’s get back inside.”

You nod, but as you turn to go into the house, Trish comes close, a mischievous look on her eyes and lips. “Maybe, uh..” and she pauses dramatically making you furrow your brow in puzzlement. “Maybe I was wrong about the age gap, huh?”

Oh, god.

“He’s one of the good ones; I approve.” she winks at you and slaps you on the ass cheek, ushering you into the house while you roll your eyes the hardest you could manage.

“Ok, now I need to know.” He laughs heartily, his eyes wrinkling, his whole face lighting up. It didn’t happen very often. It made your heart swell that you were the one making it crinkle with laughter. You loved that face.

“What?” you reply, unsuccessfully fighting back a laugh, dragging out the vowel. You had had a few beers and were relaxed and comfortable around him. You were both standing near the stairs, giving yourselves a bit of privacy from the crowded party. You were still visible to everyone, but it was a little quieter than the constant buzz throughout the house.

“Well, you’re obviously mad at him-” Joel states matter-of-factly, as he leans his back against the wall behind him, but you interrupt before he can finish, “No, I’m not!” and slap your hand on the railing next to you for good measure.

“Uh, uh, uh, none of that,” he looks at you mischievously, “but you never say anything bad about him. So, which one was he?”

“What on earth do you mean, Joel?” and you half whimper his name, thanks to the alcohol in your system, making his cock twitch. God, the things he wants to do to you.

Joel inhales sharply, trying to keep his composure, because he really needs to know what kind of an idiot husband you had chosen to place by your side only to be betrayed; a side he would die to be by. If only he had been the right man for you.

“Which half was he?”

You burst out laughing, finally figuring out what he means. You’re impressed that he still remembers, although it makes sense since you sort of insulted him that night. You know you can’t lie for shit, so you brace yourself, anticipating his reaction. You can almost see the face he’s going to make.

“Actually..” you start, prolonging the suspense, not on purpose, but because you are choking on your own giggles. It’s going to sound so pathetic, but for some reason you can’t wait to tell him how you’ve been deliberately putting yourself down for years. “Yeah...?” His eyes are fixed on you, amused, but you can see the agony underneath.

“He was both.” And you can barely contain your laughter, almost snorting.

He is still at first, as if some invisible remote control has paused the whole scene, waiting for the oh, I’m kidding. When that moment passes, his eyebrows go up so high, his forehead fills with wrinkles. His jaw drops open and he actually looks shocked to the core, almost frightened.

“Both? BOTH?” he practically hovers over you in frustration. “So, emotionally unavailable and bad sex.” he says again, incredulous that someone like you would ever choose someone like your ex.

“Joel!” you chastise him, slapping him on the shoulder, looking around you to see if anyone has overheard your conversation.

Joel fake hisses at your fake hit and taunts you with his laugh.

You shake your head dismissively, “What can I say? You know me, I don’t go halfway, I go all the way.” you reply between laughs, pumping your fist in victory.

He shakes his head in mock despair, then looks down for a few seconds, as if he’s making his mind up for something and then up at you through his lashes. “Oh, baby,” he sighs, “you really need someone to take good care of you” his voice drops, his eyes still holding the amusement but there is a hunger behind his words.

You inhale sharply and then hold your breath as your brain fantasizes about him taking good care of you, right now. You stare at each other for a long time, as if there’s no one else around, and finally you break the silence. A slight anger begins to glimmer in your chest, but you try to push it down. “Well, no such luck on that front.” you drop the bait and see where it takes you.

He can’t say things like that and expect you to do nothing. A small glimmer of hope tries to climb over the uneasy feeling inside you. It sinks its claws into your heart, scratching at the surface of your well-hidden desire. Maybe this time he’ll take a chance on you. Maybe this time he will ask you. Maybe. You try to push that away as well.

“Maybe you should put yourself out there more.” There he is. He’s pulling back, again. It’s fucking exhausting. You know you should be more patient and see where this goes, but your anger is boiling fast, ready to pour out of every pore. He started it, so you might as well finish it.

“Unless, what I need is in here.” Please, please, don’t make me regret this. Over and over, like a mantra.

He swallows so hard you can see his Adam’s apple bobbing, his knuckles turning white around his beer bottle. His eyes keep darting between yours, searching for something.

“Pretty sure it’s not, if you know what’s good for you.” Did he just say that? Your pulse rises and you hold back the tears that tend to gather so easily at your waterline. How could he say that to you? But you recover quickly, he won’t see another drop of tears from you. Not ever again.

“What, you don’t like Marcus?”

“Who?” you see Joel’s body stiffen at the man’s name, his eyes frantically scanning yours for an answer and revenge never tasted better. You would say you were drunk on power if it weren’t for the damn beers.

“Marcus, Trish’s colleague from work, she introduced us tonight- well- not exactly, but- anyway.”, you dismiss your own comment by waving your hand in the air. “Maybe you’re right. I should start giving people a chance. Maybe I’ve waited long enough.” There’s someone interested in you. He’s interested in you and he’s shown it. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to feel the look of desire in someone’s eyes. But you’d rather it was Joel’s.

Check mate. His move now.

“Are you sure you want to lead with Marcus?” His voice full of mockery. “You don’t even know the guy.”

“Oh. So, let me get this straight.” you counter. “I should get myself out there and I should do it with someone I know. Let me think.” you take a deep breath and in that short time of in and out through your nose, you debate whether you should say it. Joel seems to catch up with what you’re thinking, raises his hand and purses his lips, but before he can speak-

Fuck it.

“Are you offering?” You ask playfully, with a saccharine smile. Sometimes you really wish you were not so direct. But you couldn’t deny the sweet satisfaction of nailing him to the wall, when you saw the look of mortification on his face. The time for regret would come, but it was not right fuckin’ now.

Joel is speechless, his eyes widen and his mouth opens and closes without a sound. He clearly thought you’d back down. Maybe he thought you liked this dancing around. Maybe he thought he had more time on his hands. Or maybe he didn’t expect you to finally confront him head-on. Still playful, but head-on.

He takes a deep breath and tries to compose himself. He starts to say something, but you don’t catch it because out of the corner of your eye you see Marcus approaching you quickly. If a higher power was listening tonight, it was focusing on the wrong part of the story.

Just before he enters your personal space and you excuse yourself, you linger slowly over Joel, touching his waist with one hand. You feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt and under your palm. You take your eyes off his and look at his plush lips as your face comes dangerously close to his. Your lips brush the space between his earlobe and his neck and you painfully accept this is probably the most you will ever have of Joel Miller. His breath hitches at the feel of your soft lips and the puff of air as you whisper in his ear, “Relax Joel, I wasn’t counting on you.”

That hurt.

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liyliths · 26 days

Text

౨ৎ ⋆ ｡˚ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐘𝐄𝐑𝐒

summary: turns out nancy wheeler and her family aren't all that bad, but middle school boy humor is the worst. ignoring your gut for once? classic mistake—now a kid's missing, and the guilt trip's free of charge! what's even cooler is that steve harrington won't get off your ass, and loves to make fun of people with missing siblings with his lovely friends. oh, and now barb's missing. hawkins couldn't get any better!

“These are your friends, Harrington. Let that sink in,” Y/N remarked, glaring at him as she crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing with disappointment. Steve’s posture shifted uncomfortably, and for a moment, a flicker of guilt passed through his eyes. “Come on, relax. It was just a joke,” Steve defended, siding with Tommy. His tone was casual, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “What’s the big deal, anyway? Why do you care so much?” “You guys are unbelievable,” Y/N muttered, shaking her head in disbelief. She pushed past them, deliberately knocking her shoulder into Steve’s as she walked away. Her frustration with Harrington had grown deeper than she’d realized, the sting of disappointment lingering.

pairings: steve harrington x reader

warnings: missing kid, nightmares, cursing, carol and tommy deserve their own warning lol

word count: 6.4k

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟔𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟑

The cool fall air settled over Hawkins as the sun began to set. It was a Sunday evening, and the sound of cicadas had disappeared for the season—instead, the atmosphere was lively with the sound of crickets chirping. Inside the Wheeler’s house, a girl sat on the edge of the living room couch, her fingers nervously playing with the hem of her shirt.

She glanced around the Wheeler’s family living room, taking in the comforting normalcy of the space. The room was cozy, with soft lighting and family photos adorning the walls. It was a stark contrast to the chaos she endured with her father—the house was warm and inviting, filled with the comforting aroma of a home-cooked meal in the making.

Nancy walked into the living room, her hair done into an easy-going updo, followed by her younger brother and his friends as she retrieved them from the basement. The middle school boys laughed and shoved each other playfully, their mischievous energy filling the room.

“Y/N, this is my brother Mike and his friends. Guys, this is Y/N—she’s new here.” Nancy introduced the kids to the girl, and she gave a shy smile.

“Hey,” Nancy’s brother began introducing himself. He had dark hair covering his forehead and deep brown eyes, with ghostly skin. “I’m Mike, this is Dustin,” He gestured to a boy whose brown eyes gave a soft glow, with curly brown hair hidden by a cap, giving a small wave and a smile, his front teeth still growing in.

“Lucas–” he pointed toward a boy with chocolate skin and a square haircut, who gave a wave to Y/N with an awkward grin. “And Will,” Mike continued, pointing toward a boy with a brunette bull cut, smiling at Y/N with a sweet expression.

“Nice to meet you all,” The girl gave a tentative smile. “Do you play Dungeons & Dragons?” The curly-haired boy, Dustin, asked with enthusiasm.

“No, I haven’t, but I’ve heard lots about it,” Y/N replied, looking at the boys. “It’s really fun, you should join us sometime.” Will gave a warm smile, and his friend Lucas chimed in. “Yeah, we could always use another player.”

“Definitely,” Mike nodded. “So, what brings you to Hawkins?” He asked and Y/N paused, then with a shrug began speaking. “I’ve been here for a few months. My dad got a job here. It’s… a big change.”

“Well, we’re glad you’re here. Hawkins is a small town, but you’ll get used to it. Everyone is pretty friendly around here.” Nancy gave a comforting smile.

The conversation flowed easily after that, the boys animatedly discussing their latest campaign in Dungeons & Dragons. For a moment, Y/N felt a semblance of normalcy, a sense of belonging she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Barb was supposed to show up a few minutes ago…” Nancy noted out loud as she glanced at her friend, then to the clock on the living room wall.

“Maybe she just got caught up with something. We could give her a call after dinner?” Y/N suggested, noticing her friend’s worry.

“Yeah,” Nancy sighed, nodding. “That’ll be fine.”

As the evening wore on, Mrs. Wheeler called everyone to the dining room for dinner. The table was laden with food, the main course being casserole, and the atmosphere was filled with sounds of clinking cutlery and light-hearted chatter. Y/N was grateful for Nancy's invitation to dinner, feeling the warmth of the Wheeler family's hospitality.

“How are you liking Hawkins, Y/N?” Mr. Wheeler changed the focus of the table to the girl, as Nancy’s little sister picked at her food.

“Holly,” Mrs. Wheeler whispered, “Don’t play with your food. It’s impolite.”

“I’ve been here since late July, I’ve enjoyed my time here so far. It’s definitely different than what I’m used to,” Y/N cleared her throat, setting her fork down. “I do miss Oregon though,” she added.

“What was Oregon like?” Mrs. Wheeler asked curiously.

“Very green,” The girl recalled her memories there. “I loved to hike and draw. My favorite place to visit was Watson Falls, I enjoyed drawing that the most,” she answered politely, taking a sip of water.

“That sounds lovely. I’m sure Hawkins will grow on you as well, there’s some beautiful landscape here. You should give the quarry a visit,” Mrs. Wheeler sent a friendly smile while attempting to get Holly to finish the rest of her dinner.

“I will keep that in mind, Mrs. Wheeler.” Y/N sent a grateful nod, continuing to eat her dinner.

After dinner, the boys retreated to the basement to continue their game, while Y/N and Nancy went upstairs to her room to call Barbra. The bedroom was neatly decorated, with pink and white lined wallpaper and a fancy white bedframe. She had posters hanging on the wall of her interests—with blue, pink, and white sheets on her bed complimenting the rest of her room.

Y/N watched as Nancy approached her nightstand, picked up her phone, and dialed Barb’s home number. She took a seat on the edge of Nancy’s bed, listening to the line ring with no answer. “Weird,” Nancy put the phone down, her eyebrows knit together in concern. “Maybe she and her parents have already gone off to bed…” Y/N gave a small shrug.

“It’s just not like her, you know? She’s always crazy about plans, she makes sure she’s never late, and would freak out if she missed something…” Nancy took a seat next to Y/N, scooting back on the bed, and criss-crossing her legs.

“I’m sure it’s fine, Nance… we’ll see her on Monday,” Y/N observed her worried friend.

“You’re right… we’ll see her later.” Nancy gave a soft smile as the room fell into silence, the only noise being the crickets sounding outside of the bedroom window.

“How’s Steve?” Y/N brought up the boy, breaking the silence, noticing the way Nancy’s face brightened at the mention of him.

“He’s good,” She replied, a giddy smile spreading across her lips. But then she sighed, the excitement fading. “Boys are just so confusing, though.”

Y/N frowned. “He still hasn’t asked you out?”

“Nope, still nothing,” Nancy admitted, her gaze dropping to her hands. She hesitated, then added quietly, “I keep wondering if he even cares, or if he’s just stringing me along.”

Y/N tilted her head, studying her friend. “You think he’s into you?”

Nancy shrugged, then glanced at Y/N with a flicker of uncertainty. “I don’t know… he’s just extra friendly with other girls… you too, you know? It seems different with you sometimes…” Her voice carried a subtle hint of something Y/N couldn’t quite pin down.

She quickly brushed off the comment, but the unspoken tension between them thickened the air. “I’m not interested, just so you know,” Y/N said firmly, though her tone lacked conviction. The silence that followed was heavy, until Nancy’s voice finally broke through it, changing the topic.

“How are you really doing, Y/N? It must be hard, moving and everything. You seemed to really like Oregon.” Nancy questioned.

“To be honest…” The girl sighed, hesitating for a moment, unsure of opening up. “It’s been tough. It’s always hard every time we’ve moved, I’ve had to leave my friends behind each time… so I eventually just stopped bothering to make friends.” The girl shrugged, as Nancy listened intently.

“My dad… he’s not handling things well, but—I’m managing. He has a court date in December for custody over me, or else the state will take custody. That’s why I’ve been living with Chief Hopper, he’s been kind enough to let me stay with him in the meantime so I don’t go into foster care.” She explained, the uncomfortable feeling of opening up weighing on her shoulders.

“I’m sorry…” Nancy furrowed her eyebrows, unsure of how to relate and empathize with her, realizing the girl had much more going on in her life than she’d thought. She reached out for Y/Ns hand, giving her a comforting squeeze.

“If you ever need to talk or anything, I’m here. You’re not alone anymore,” Nancy gave a warm smile.

“Thanks, Nancy. It means a lot—”

A quick, rapid knock interrupted their conversation, the door swinging open and hitting the wall to reveal the curly haired boy, Dustin, grinning ear to ear with a pizza box in hand.

“Ladies, I come bearing gifts! Last slice—sausage and pepperoni. Who’s the lucky winner?”

Y/N exchanged a glance with Nancy, who sighed dramatically before getting up. “You’re too kind, Dustin,” she muttered, her voice dripping with mockery as she approached the door. She gave him a condescending smirk before slamming the door in his face.

From the other side of the door, Dustin’s muffled voice called out, “Oh, come on! You didn’t have to slam it, Nance! By the way, Mrs. Wheeler says it’s time to hit the road, so let’s move it, people!”

Nancy rolled her eyes, but there was a smile tugging at her lips as she turned back to Y/N. “Guess that’s our cue,” she shrugged, shaking her head at Dustin’s antics.

As the pair made their way downstairs, they found Mike begging Mrs. Wheeler for his friends to stay a bit longer, his pleas no use as the other boys were already gathering their things by the front door, preparing to head out.

“Thanks for having me over, Nancy,” Y/N said warmly, giving her friend a grateful smile. “And, if you hear anything from Barb, please let me know. I'm sure we'll see her on Monday."

Nancy returned the smile and pulled her friend into a quick hug. There was a hint of worry in her eyes at the mention of Barb, but she masked it with a warm, grateful tone. “I will, thanks for coming, Y/N. Tonight was fun.”

Y/N nodded, offering a reassuring smile before heading to the door. She gathered her things, slipped into her jacket, and opened the front door.

The crisp night air greeted her as she stepped outside, sending a shiver down her spine. The autumn chill was sharper now, and she pulled her jacket tighter, feeling the cold seep through the fabric. The boys were already outside, grabbing their bikes and turning the headlights on, their breath puffing out in visible clouds as they prepared to ride off into the night.

“There’s something seriously wrong with your friend, Y/N,” Dustin announced as he watched the girl grab the bike Hopper had let her borrow, the cool metal of the handlebars biting against her gloved hands.

“What do you mean?” Y/N shot him a curious glance, one eyebrow raised.

“She’s got a stick up her butt,” Dustin announced with all the seriousness of a doctor delivering bad news, his words muffled by the last bite of pizza he had offered stuffed in his mouth. He hopped onto his bike, wobbling a bit as he tried to balance and chew at the same time.

“Yeah, and it’s probably because she’s been hanging out with that douchebag Steve Harrington,” Lucas chimed in, giving the group a knowing look as he mounted his own bike.

“She’s turning into a real jerk,” Dustin shook his head, finally getting his balance with a piece of pepperoni stuck to his chin, clumsily attempting to wipe it off.

“She’s always been a jerk,” Mike muttered, sounding more annoyed than usual, but Dustin was quick to jump in.

“Nuh-uh, she used to be cool! Remember that time she dressed up as an elf for our Elder Tree campaign?” Dustin’s eyes lit up with the memory as he started pedaling down the Wheeler’s driveway, Lucas keeping pace beside him.

“Four years ago!” Mike shouted after them, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“Later, losers!” Lucas called over his shoulder, laughing as he sped ahead with Dustin.

“It was a seven,” Will spoke, his eyes meeting Mike’s as he mounted his bike. “Huh?” Mike turned his gaze to his friend as Y/N observed, not wanting to leave Will behind.

“The roll, it was a seven.” He clarified, observing the confused expression on Will’s face. “The Demogorgon, it got me.”

“You ready, Will?” Y/N asked after a brief moment of silence as Mike didn't say anything in response, mounting her bike alongside Will.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow, Mike!” Will waved, pedaling alongside Y/N as they raced to catch up with the other boys. Y/N glanced back one last time at the Wheeler house, noticing the lights flicker on and off. She shook her head, brushing the uneasy feeling off her shoulders, and focused on keeping up with the boys. Nighttime was always creepy, anyway.

The group pedaled on in relative quiet underneath the stars until they neared Lucas’s neighborhood. As they approached his street, Lucas slowed down, preparing to peel off. “Goodnight, ladies,” he quipped with a smirk, veering his bike into his neighborhood.

Dustin, not one to let an opportunity slip, called after him, “Make sure to kiss your mom ‘night for me!” His voice dripped with mischief, and Y/N couldn’t help but share a smirk with Will, a little amused by the boys' playful banter.

As Lucas disappeared around the corner, Dustin turned back to Y/N and Will, a playful gleam in his eye. “How about a race back to my place? Winner gets a comic. You in, Y/N?” He suggested, confidence oozing from his tone.

“How far is it?” She questioned, glancing at the boy as she continued pedaling. “Just up the street past this hill,” The curly-haired boy pointed ahead.

“Any comic?” Will questioned, his voice brimming with excitement as he eyed Dustin.

“Any comic,” Dustin confirmed, his smirk widening, clearly underestimating the competition—confident in winning.

But Will wasn’t waiting around. Without a word, he shot forward, his bike tires screeching against the pavement as he took off. Y/N gave a small grin, “Guess that’s go!” She laughed, racing after Will, her legs pumping hard as she pushed ahead up the hill.

“Hey, I didn’t say go!” Dustin shouted, his voice trailing off as he scrambled to catch up, realizing too late that he’d been left in the dust. In no time Will was already over the hill, passing his friend’s mailbox. With a triumphant grin, he called back, “I’ll take your X-Men 134!”

Y/N, not far behind, pushed her bike to its limits, the cool night air rushing past her. She caught up with Will, their bikes nearly side by side. She could see Dustin in the distance, standing on his bike by his mailbox with an expression of pure disbelief.

“I’m gonna kill you, Byers!” He threatened, though his tone was more amused than serious. He watched helplessly as Y/N and Will disappeared into the night, their victorious cheers echoing in the distance.

As the pair approached the intersection where Y/N needed to turn off for Hopper’s cabin, she glanced over at Will, who was focused on the road ahead. The shadows of the trees lining the street made the night seem even darker, and Y/N hesitated.

“Hey, Will,” she called out, her voice cutting through the stillness of the night. “Do you want me to ride with you to your place? It’s pretty late.”

Will looked over at her, offering a small, reassuring smile. “No, it’s fine,” His tone was light, but there was a hint of appreciation in his eyes.

They reached the corner, and Y/N slowed her bike, still not entirely comfortable with the idea of leaving the boy alone. “Alright… just be safe, okay?” She said, eyebrows raising, her concern evident as she made the turn onto her street.

“Promise. You too!” Will called back, his smile fading into the darkness as Y/N glanced over her shoulder one last time.

The unease lingered as Y/N pedaled toward Hopper’s cabin, the quiet of the night amplifying her thoughts. She tried to shake it off, reminding herself that Will had probably done this countless times before, knowing he and his friends take this route all the time. Still, as the cabin came into view, she couldn’t help but feel guilty, and a small knot of worry settled in her chest.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

The bedroom inside of Hopper's cabin was dimly lit by the soft glow of sunrise flooding through the curtains as birds began to chirp, signifying the start of a new day. Y/N tossed and turned in her sleep, her brows furrowed—her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.

The girl found herself standing in a dark, dense forest. It looked like Hawkins, but had an ominous, dark atmosphere. Particles were floating in the air, with vein-like vines covering the ground, and the trees loomed high above her, their branches twisting like skeletal fingers against the moonlit sky. An eerie silence hung in the air, only to be broken by the distant sound of something rustling in the darkness ahead.

As she carefully treaded further into the forest, she noticed a faint, pulsating glow emanating from between the trees. Curiosity and fear warred within her as she cautiously approached the light. The glow grew brighter, illuminating her surroundings in an otherworldly orange and red hue.

Her heart dropped as she spotted a small figure that ran into hiding behind a tree stump. Her face grew pale and her breaths grew heavier as her heart raced, watching another figure—its body unnaturally tall and disproportionate travel toward where the small figure was hiding.

It was hunting.

Suddenly—the figure snapped its head towards her, faceless, and it looked monstrous, with gray, slimy skin. The girl desperately tried to scream, but no sound escaped her lips, her heart dropping to the pit of her stomach, filled with a sense of dread.

Y/N’s eyes flicked open, and she jerked awake—her body covered in a cold sweat. She sat up in bed, her breathing ragged and her heart racing. The remnants of the nightmare clung to her, making it difficult to shake the unsettling feeling.

Nightmares were nothing new, she’d had them since the passing of her mother, but they’d become more frequent since her move to Hawkins. She glanced around her room, the familiar surroundings calming her racing thoughts. She reached for her sketchbook on the nightstand, her hands trembling slightly as she flipped it open to a blank page.

Without hesitation, the girl began to sketch what she had seen in her dream. Her hand moved swiftly and precisely, capturing the haunting image of the glowing portal and the small figure that hid behind the stump, and then she started on the monstrous figure she spotted in the dream. The act of drawing seemed to bring a small measure of relief, grounding her in the present.

As she finished the sketch, she stared at it, a sense of unease settling over her. That dream felt all too real, but she quickly brushed it off as she saw the clock read the time, 6:46 AM.

“Shit,” she muttered to herself, “School starts at 7:15.”

The early morning light filtered through the trees, casting a soft glow over the rustic kitchen. Hopper was already up, making strong coffee that filled the household with the scent, while Y/N made careful but quick steps down the hall from her room into the kitchen.

The girl treaded into the kitchen, her sketchbook and pencil clutched tightly in her hand. Hopper looked up from his mug of coffee and newspaper in hand, his eyes softening when he saw her pale face and the dark circles under her eyes.

"Morning, kid. You’re up late."

"Didn't sleep well." The girl gave a forced smile, raising her eyebrows to add expression. Hopper poured her a cup of coffee and pushed it across the table toward her. Y/N sat down, placed her sketchbook on the table, opened it to a blank page, and took a tentative sip of coffee before grimacing.

“Yuck,” the girl emphasized. “That’s how you drink your coffee?” She asked, trying to shake off the taste from her tongue.

“I like mine bitter.” Hopper gave a small chuckle and passed milk to her for creamer.

“You okay?” He observed the girl, who seemed shaken as she poured the milk into her coffee. She hesitated for a moment before speaking, unsure of what to say.

“Just… one of those nights. I had a nightmare, it’s nothing new though. They’ve always been around.”

Hopper's expression turned serious. He leaned in slightly, his concern evident. “You wanna talk about it?” He questioned, carefully.

“No. It’s nothing, just a bad dream.” The girl was quick to refuse, focusing on her sketchbook.

Hopper sighed, leaning back in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn't want to press her, especially after everything she'd been through. "Alright. Just remember, if you ever need to talk, I'm here. Got it?"

Y/N gave a soft nod, appreciating the man’s concern. They continued their breakfast in relative silence, the weight of the unspoken conversation lingering in the air as the girl continued to work on her drawings in her sketchbook, flicking through a few pages.

Hopper glanced at the girl’s sketchbook, watching her skim past a drawing of her nightmare—the mysterious figure alarming him. “Hey, what was that?” Hopper stopped the girl, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” She shook her head, turning the page to a new, empty one, quickly brushing him off. Hopper sat in silent thought, and as they finished up, he grabbed his keys, put on his chief hat, and motioned for Y/N to follow him to the truck.

While they drove to school, the early morning sun cast long shadows on the road with a soft yellow glow. Hopper glanced over at the girl who was staring out the window, lost in thought—he wondered what was going through her head.

The pair arrived at Hawkins High, the parking lot already bustling and lively with students. The air was cool and colorful fall leaves covered the concrete as Hopper parked the car momentarily, the vehicle coming to a stop.

“Have a good day, Hopper.” The girl began to open the car door, sliding out with her shoulder bag. "You got it. And hey, try to have a good day too, alright?”

Y/N nodded and stepped out of the truck, sending a small wave through the window, and walking to the high school’s entrance. She felt a little better knowing that Hopper had her back, but the image of her nightmare still lingered—it was something she couldn’t quite shake off her mind.

As the bell was about to ring any minute, the girl rushed to her locker to exchange her books for first hour as she pressed play on her Walkman, lyrics flowing to her ears through her headphones. Her hair bounced as she walked, highlights in her hair reflecting in the sunlight—in a half-up, half-down style she had done in the car ride to school.

“Club Tropicana, drinks are free Fun and sunshine, there’s enough for everyone All that’s missing is the sea”

As lyrics flowed through her headphones, she followed students to the lockers. The hallway was crowded, with students still rushing to their classes and exchanging books in their lockers. As Y/N turned the corner in the hall, she ran into someone, her bag and headphones flying from the impact as she tried to steady herself.

“Watch it!” The boy's voice sounded rudely as he walked off, barely glancing at Y/N.

“Asshole.” The girl muttered under her breath, kneeling to pick up her Walkman and what fell out of her bag until she was met with a familiar face—Steve Harrington.

The boy knelt to help Y/N pick up the mess, making eye contact with the girl. She gave him a flat look, beginning to speak. “Steve, are you ever going to give up?” She sighed, knowing he had no obligation to help her.

“What do you mean? I’m just helping my fellow peer pick up her mess,” He stated defensively.

“Or rather, you should be in class,” Y/N bickered with the boy, and as they spoke, lyrics continued to flow from the Walkman on the ground, and the brown-haired boy caught onto the song.

“But don’t worry, you can suntan Castaways and lovers meet Then kiss in Tropicana’s heat”

“You like ‘Wham!’?” Steve gestured toward the Walkman as he gave Y/N her things that fell, their fingers brushing against each other as she retrieved her items.

“Yeah,” she simply replied, an utterly uninterested look crossing her face.

“You’ll have to show me what’s on your Walkman sometime,” Steve gestured to the device in her jeans pocket, his eyebrows raising, looking down at her.

“Sure, Steve.” She gave a tentative nod, brushing past him as she continued her walk to her locker.

“I’ll see you around,” The brown-haired boy watched as Y/N walked off, with slight disappointment painting his tone.

As the girl switched her school books from her locker, she noticed a few girls across the hall glancing at her and whispering to each other, their hands covering their mouths as they talked. She sighed, slamming her locker shut, having to walk past them to get to her class behind the group.

“Did you hear Steve hooked up with one of his exes at a party last weekend?” One of the girls gossiped to the other, watching as Y/N walked past them into her class.

“Of course,” The girl shook her head, thinking to herself as she sat at her desk. “Like I’ve been saying—typical arrogant douchebag.”

As her eyes flicked between her paper notes and the whiteboard for her upcoming test, she noticed her seatmate was not in class today. Jonathan Byers—brother of Will Byers who she met the other night, had perfect attendance from what she’d observed, but she was quickly broken out of thought as her teacher began speaking about the lesson.

𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐫

The lake sounded softly with water moving with the breeze, while birds chirped happily in the distance. Y/N hopped off of her bike and set it on the wall of Hopper’s trailer. She noticed Hopper’s vehicle was parked outside, wondering why he was home early—and why he didn’t give her a ride home from school.

The girl opened the trailer door, noticing the chief rushing around the house urgently with his uniform still on. “Why are you home early?” She questioned, curiously, watching him grab his uniform jacket.

“Had to stop by for a few things. Kid went missing, Will Byers.” Hopper quickly spoke as the girl’s heart dropped, remembering the familiar name—the innocent face. It was the boy she biked home with, and left alone, on her watch.

“Missing?” She questioned, disbelief coating her tone.

“Yeah, I’ll be back late, there’s a search party going out for him in about thirty minutes. Keep the door locked,” He rushed toward the front door.

“And no, you can’t come with me to look. There’s leftovers in the fridge.” And before Y/N could protest, Hopper had already walked out of the trailer.

Unease settled over her as she locked the front door and made her way to her room, finding her sketchbook, hoping to distract herself from the guilt and worry now gnawing at her mind. She grabbed her Walkman and put her headphones on, turning on music—filling in the silence of the trailer.

The more the clock ticked by, the more she believed it was her fault the boy was missing. If she had just insisted on biking home with him, maybe whatever had caused him to go missing wouldn’t have. She silently sketched in her notebook, trying to drown the thoughts, before finding herself drifting asleep.

“And I love you, I love you, I love you Like never before”

A woman sang softly, her voice sweet like honey, sat at the edge of a child’s bed. The warm glow of a bedside lamp cast soft shadows across the child’s bedroom, filled with pastel-colored walls and shelves lined with stuffed animals.

A gentle breeze from the open window stirred the curtains, bringing in the sweet scent of summer flowers from the garden outside. Y/N, a young girl of about six, was snuggled underneath her favorite quilt, its patchwork of colors a testament to her mother’s loving handwork.

“And I wish you all of the love in the world But most of all, I wish it from myself"

The woman continued singing the lyrics, smooth and comforting. Her mother’s hand gently stroked her hair, the rhythm matching the gentle melody of the song. The woman’s hair was long and beautiful, with big bright eyes to compliment the color of her hair.

Her father stood at the doorway, leaning against the frame with a warm smile etched on his face. He watched the scene with tender eyes, cherishing the moment. As the song came to an end, he walked over to the bed, placing a soft kiss on Y/N’s forehead.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice filled with warmth. Her mother leaned in, kissing her cheek.

“Sleep tight, my little songbird,” she smiled warmly, her eyes twinkling with love.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

When Hopper finally returned in the early hours of the morning, he found Y/N asleep on the couch with sunlight pouring through the curtains, her headphones still on, lyrics flowing out of them. He gently took them off, setting them on the coffee table. The man watched her for a moment, a mix of affection and concern in his eyes, before gently waking her.

The girl rose—panic filling her eyes, gasping, as Hopper was slightly startled by her awakening so abruptly. “Jesus,” He sighed, holding the girl’s shoulders. “It’s just me, time for school, kiddo,” Hopper announced, watching the girl observe her surroundings, grounding herself in the present.

“When did you get here?” She asked, still catching her breath from the sudden awakening. “Just now—” The man began to speak, before getting interrupted by Y/N’s urgent voice.

“Did you find Will?”

“We searched for him all night, no signs of him,” Hopper replied, disappointed, watching concern etch over the girl’s tired expression.

“But don’t worry—okay, we’ll find him. Look, the worst that’s happened in Hawkins is an owl attacking an old lady’s head because it thought her hair was a nest,” he attempted to lighten the mood, letting out a light chuckle recalling the event.

“Alright, get some rest then, you’ve been out all night. I’ll get ready for school,” The girl gave a soft, slightly forced smile, watching Hopper take off his chief hat with a sigh.

“I’ll try, kid.”

𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥

The high school hallway buzzed with the usual chatter and clatter of students, lockers slamming shut as groups of friends milled about between classes. Fluorescent lights cast a harsh, almost sterile glow over the tiled floor, while faded posters for the upcoming dance and pep rallies clung to the walls, their edges curling with age.

Y/N was rummaging through her locker, swapping out textbooks for her next class, when the locker door slammed shut unexpectedly. She jumped back, her heart racing, only to find Nancy standing right behind it, looking anxious.

“Jesus!” Y/N exclaimed, pressing a hand to her chest as if to steady her heartbeat. She barely had a chance to catch her breath before Nancy started talking, her words tumbling out in a rushed, frantic stream.

“You heard about Will, right? Has Hopper found anything? Mike is freaking out,” Nancy asked with a sense of urgency. The halls were crowded as it was passing period, and everything about that day seemed off.

“I heard, and he hasn’t found anything,” Y/N shook her head as she shifted her attention, looking over to see Jonathan Byers—who was missing in class yesterday, and Nancy turned her attention to what she was looking at. Jonathan was at the school board, hanging up missing posters of his little brother.

He was wearing a jean jacket with brown fleece complimenting the color, and his light brown hair was similar to his brother's bull cut, except longer, and he carried himself with an awkward stance.

“Should we go talk to him?” Nancy questioned, hesitation etching at her.

“What’s the worst that could happen? Come on,” Y/N began walking to the boy, with Nancy following suit. While the pair walked through the hall weaving through peers, Y/N heard a familiar voice speaking through the crowd.

“Oh god, that’s depressing,” Steve mumbled, wearing a green sweater matched with dark jeans, his hair styled almost perfectly, watching the scene of Jonathan putting up posters of his missing brother.

“How much do you want to bet he killed him?” The idiot, Tommy, chuckled as Carol snickered at his comment.

“Shut up, dude.” Steve shoved him, shaking his head. Y/N stopped in her tracks as she passed by the group, watching Nancy continue to make her way toward Jonathan, before turning to face Steve and his friends.

“What the hell is wrong with you guys?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, watching Steve’s face distort into shock, where did she come from?

“Aw, is Ms. Prissy upset?” Carol chimed, while Tommy grinned at the comment.

“What would you do if that was your sibling?” Y/N held her hands out, pointing toward Will’s missing person poster, not able to believe the ignorance of this group.

“Come on, Smith, can’t you take a joke?” Tommy exclaimed, raising his hands in mock surrender, a smirk playing on his lips. Carol snickered beside him, clearly enjoying the tension, while Steve stood to the side, searching for the right words—but coming up empty.

“Come on, relax. It was just a joke,” Steve defended, siding with Tommy. His tone was casual, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “What’s the big deal, anyway? Why do you care so much?”

“You guys are unbelievable,” Y/N muttered, shaking her head in disbelief. She pushed past them, deliberately knocking her shoulder into Steve’s as she walked away. Her frustration with Harrington had grown deeper than she’d realized, the sting of disappointment lingering.

“Y/N!” A familiar voice called out, and the girl turned to see Nancy hurrying toward her.

The girl let out a sigh, her eyes flicking over to Harrington’s group still lingering at the end of the hallway, before looking at her friend, Nancy. “Is Jonathan okay?” She asked, concern lacing her tone.

Nancy nodded, but looked worried. “As okay as you can be when your brother’s missing,” she replied, biting her lip. She hesitated for a moment before continuing, “You know, have you seen Barb around? I haven’t seen her today, and I’m starting to get worried.”

“No, I haven’t seen her since Friday still,” Y/N frowned, her expression turning into question, clutching her books tighter. It was unlike Barb to miss school. Skipping dinner was one thing, but skipping class? That was odd.

“We were supposed to have dinner together on Sunday,” Nancy recalled, her voice tinged with anxiety. “Now she’s not even at school, and I haven’t heard from her.” Worry etched itself across her face, her brow furrowing deeply.

“She might be sick, she’s probably just resting,” Y/N offered, trying to sound reassuring even as a nagging doubt tugged at the back of her mind. “We’ll probably see her tomorrow.”

“Yeah… maybe,” Nancy sighed, but her eyes still held a shadow of concern as she shook her head, not entirely convinced.

𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐫

The cool autumn air settled over the woods of Hawkins, carrying with it the scent of colorful fallen leaves dancing with the breeze. Birds chirped in the treetops, their songs sounding over the rustling of the wind through the tall trees. The sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting long shadows across the forest floor as nightfall slowly began to creep over the quiet, small town.

Inside Hopper’s cabin, the light from the kitchen cast a warm glow over the room, the fireplace adding a soft, comforting crackle. Hopper sat across from Y/N, his face drawn with the weight of his thoughts.

“I have a feeling things are about to get busier with everything going on,” he said, his voice heavy. “I don’t like the idea of leaving you alone out here. If you need to stay a few nights at your friend’s...” He trailed off, trying to recall the name.

“Nancy,” Y/N reminded him, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Hopper, is it really that bad?” She asked, watching as he rubbed his mustache and set his fork down, the lines on his forehead deepening.

Hopper sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t want to worry you, kid,” he said softly. “But yeah, it’s getting serious. We’ll find him though," He tried to sound reassuring, but the uncertainty in his eyes made Y/N’s heart sink.

“I was the last person that saw him.” The girl brought up, unspoken guilt beginning to gnaw at her expression as she absent-mindedly picked at her plate.

“What do you mean?” Hopper’s eyebrows furrowed, pausing his chewing, his mouth slightly full.

“I was at Nancy’s house on Sunday, with him and his friends. I biked home with them, and Will and I split off. I was the last person to see him, the last one responsible... and if I would’ve biked him home—”

“No, don’t think like that, kid.” The man shook his head, giving a firm look to the girl.

“But Hopper—”

“I mean it. Don’t let that eat you up inside, okay?” The chief looked at the girl, his expression softer, raising his eyebrows as she gave a soft nod. She poked at her TV dinner, stirring the mashed potatoes around on her plate in thought.

Noticing the girl’s lack of appetite, Hopper gestured to her plate. “What’s the deal? You don’t like peas?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as she pushed the green spheres around.

Y/N wrinkled her nose and shot him a skeptical look. “Have you seen these things? They’re so mushy,” She complained with a frown, spearing one with her fork for emphasis, watching it fall apart with the pressure.

Hopper chuckled, the sound breaking the tension in the room. “Yeah, well, at least you won’t starve,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Mushy peas or not, you need to eat.”

𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐃𝐚𝐲

The morning bustle of Hawkins High filled the hallways with the clatter of lockers and the hum of conversation. Y/N was at her locker, swapping out her books for second period, when Nancy's voice suddenly broke through the noise.

“Barb isn’t here,” Nancy announced, appearing suddenly at Y/N’s side. The words made her heart drop. She turned to face her, books in hand, but the words caught in her throat when she saw the worry etched on Nancy's face.

“She wasn’t in my first period,” Nancy continued, her voice rising with desperation. “Something’s wrong, Y/N. I can feel it.” Her eyes searched Y/N’s, looking for some reassurance, but the girl could only stare back, her own unease growing.

Nancy's hands gripped the books she held, knuckles whitening. “I think something terrible has happened.”

Y/N swallowed hard, glancing around at the students milling past them, the hallway feeling suddenly too crowded, too loud. “Have you called her parents?” She asked after a moment, her voice barely audible over the din.

Nancy nodded quickly, almost frantically. “Of course, I called her parents! They thought she was with me, I told them she wasn’t, and now they’re freaking out too!” She held her arm, visibly distressed, her eyes darting around as if searching for answers.

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to stay calm for both their sakes. “Nancy, I... I don’t know what to do,” she admitted. “With Will missing, the thought that Barb might be too...” She trailed off, not wanting to believe her own words.

Hawkins was supposed to be quiet, a place where nothing ever really happened, but that was before Will Byers went missing, with the entire town on edge.

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taglist: @anqelically @cupofjoekeery @steviespookie @hailqueenconquer @just-tiredman @x-theolivia @fuckshitslover @uselessnewt

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington #father figure jim hopper #stranger things rewrite #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #slowburn #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #joe keery #joe keery imagine #joe keery imagines

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jobean12-blog · 1 year

Text

Lost and Found

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (Biker AU)

Word Count: 854

Summary: Joel comes home from a night out with the guys and has a surprise.

Author’s Note: I’ve been thinking about writing a little something for this for a while! Still in love with the idea of our grumpy biker soft for the sweet things like his girl and...well you can tell what else from my pics hehe! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the sweet @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!

Warnings: soft and sweet fluffs

Joel Miller Masterlist

The growl of his engine reverberates through the night air, at first distant and piercing the stillness before the power gradually diminishes as he slows down and approaches the house. The rhythmic purring begins to fade, replaced by the sound of the rubber tires rolling across the pavement.

Finally, the motorcycle stops, the engine settling into a quiet idle as the hot metal begins to cool with ticks and cracks.

He shuts the engine and swings one long leg over the seat.

You open your front door and run into his arms. He catches you easily, wrapping you up in him.

“Joel,” you whisper into the aged leather of his jacket.

“Hiya darlin’” he drawls, dragging you closer to capture your lips.

You only break apart when you feel a small movement beneath his jacket, the shifting making you pull back in surprise.

He throws you a sheepish smile and tucks you into his side. “Let’s get inside.”

The door shuts from the force of his booted foot and he switches on the small light by the couch.

“Come ‘ere,” he whispers, sitting down and crooking his finger at you.

You bring yourself between his spread legs and let out a slight squeak when he tugs you down to sit along his thigh.

“Missed you,” he murmurs against your lips.

You return the sentiment and run your fingers through his mussed hair.

“I have somethin’ to show you,” he says as he grabs the zipper of his jacket.

“Should I be scared?” you ask with a giggle.

“Nah darlin.’ You’re gonna love it.”

The pull of his zipper is deliberate as he keeps his eyes trained on you, your eyes staring at his hand.

“Joel…hurry up!” you whine, bouncing on his leg.

“Quit bouncin’ around and distracting me,” he tuts, throwing you a wink.

You sit perfectly still and eye him suspiciously.

That’s when you hear it. The tiniest, squeakiest meow ever.

“Oh my go…. IT’S A BABY KITTEN!!!”

You can’t contain yourself as he pulls out the cutest black kitten you’ve ever seen and you try your hardest to stifle your squeals of happiness. It’s tiny paws are clinging to his calloused fingers, adorned with tattoos, creating a stark contrast against her delicate and soft black fur. In his large hand she looks even tinier and her round glowing eyes are framed by a wild mane of fur.

“I found her by the dumpster at the back of the bar,” he explains. “I was helping Tommy with the trash and heard her cryin’.”

He cradles her against his chest and gently scratches behind her ears, his typically gruff voice becoming soothing as he coos sweet nothings. The kitten, as if sensing the safety of his arms, nestles into the warmth of his embrace and closes her eyes.

“I can’t handle this,” you whisper, standing from his thigh and grabbing your phone.

He grumbles out something you don’t quite catch but continues doting on the small bundle of fur in his arms.

With his legs spread wide his dark jeans are stretched tight against the thick muscles of his thighs and his biceps pop in his worn leather jacket. The dark ink of his tattoos is visible even in the dim lighting and when he presses a soft kiss to the top of the kitten’s head you let out a dreamy sigh.

He grumbles again but you ignore him completely, lifting your phone.

You can barely see the tiny kitten, her black fur blending in to him, but it’s sexy and soft and you can barely stand it.

“Can I please…” you start, trailing off when his eyes, dark and promising you anything your heart desires, lift to yours and he gives you an easy nod.

You snap several photos, doing your best to focus on the utter cuteness of the kitten and not how incredible your man looks.

“Can we keep her?” you ask tentatively as you pocket your phone and reach out for her.

He carefully places her in your arms, all his movements delicate in an unexpected way.

“Anything you want, darlin.’ I just want to make sure she’s safe.”

You look up at him, your wide eyes matching the kittens.

“Really?” you say softly, cuddling your face into her fur.

“What are you gonna name her?” he asks as he slides his hand up your thigh then closes it on your waist to tug you down into his lap.

“You should name her,” you say, snuggling yourself against his chest as he holds you and the kitten close. “You found her.”

Your head rests along his shoulder and he’s quiet for several moments, watching you and the kitten interact. You alternate between kissing the top of her head and kissing Joel’s neck, his soft hums of satisfaction matching the kitten’s content purring.

“What about Ink?” he finally says.

“Ink?” you repeat, but then your eyes sparkle with the realization. “Like your tattoos!”

He dips his head slightly but you can see the softness in his expression before he presses his mouth to yours.

“It’s perfect,” you whisper against his lips.

@pedritosdarling @blackwidownat2814 @lorilane33 @hiddles-rose @justkinsey @laineyreads @beccablogsthings @littleseasiren @hallecarey1

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #biker!joel miller #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #biker!joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #biker au #joel miller au #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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lemotmo · 2 months

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Oh my God I can't believe I didn't realize until now that Buck really didn't have a storyline this season. How did I miss that?! I thought oh she has to be wrong he had things going on. Nope. Not a damn thing of his own to do this season. That makes this nonsense even funnier 🤣🤣🤣🤣

Nope, the only storyline he had was him coming out as bisexual. A storyline that deserved so much more and so much better than what it ultimatelly became.

In S7b, he was a very big supportive character in Eddie's storyline though. That was very deliberate as well. They wanted us to see how deep his bond with Eddie goes in comparison to his very superficial bond with Tommy.

#evan buckley #911 abc #season 7 meta #nonnies galore

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bonyassfish · 2 years

Text

Nobody cares but me probably but like we’ll never have a successful Carrie adaptation if they keep refusing to cast actresses who are not conventionally attractive

Like in the book Carrie is mocked not only for her lack of social skills/sheltered upbringing, but also for being overweight and unattractive. It says so very deliberately in the book

So what happens when you cast a beautiful thin actress like sissy spacek or chloe grace moretz? In my opinion you lose part of what makes Carrie so compelling as a novel. The pink dress is the first time Carrie genuinely feels pretty. The pigs blood is so much more devastating because it’s not just a prank, it’s chris and the other students (besides tommy rip) ripping away the first and only moment Carrie ever had to feel beautiful and well-liked, and it was taken away from her

I can’t help but feel like some people who only see one of the films and don’t read the book might be missing some key ideas in the book. They might not understand that the horror in Carrie is a young woman who is constantly reminded, by her mother and her peers and even the staff of the school (except for ms desjardins), that she is wrong, her body is wrong, she simply does not fit into anybody’s idea of what a woman should look like or how a woman should act

It’s not that conventionally attractive girls are always exempted from bullying, but there’s a certain oppression that comes from being labeled as unattractive, especially if you’re a teenager without a developed sense of self. A constant awareness that you do not deserve love and will never receive it. That anyone expressing romantic interest in you is probably just playing a joke. That you will never be adored, never be seen as worthy of protection, never get to exsist without constant reminders of your supposed lack of humanity

Idk man I’m having a lot of feelings about Carrie

#Carrie #stephen king #sissy spacek #chloe grace moretz #carrie (1976)#carrie (2013)#horror #Halloween #meta #literary analysis

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harrison-abbott · 7 months

Text

Tommy and I

I didn’t know my kid that well. Tommy was his name. His mother and I split up shortly after he was born, and I didn’t get to see him that much. And I must’ve missed out on that crucial attachment phase with him. Because he was far closer to his mother. Or maybe I’m being naïve and it was because I was a bad Dad.

Remember the film Jurassic Park? The original one I mean, from the early 1990s. I took Tommy to see that, when he was still alive. When he was a boy. It’s crazy that that movie came out over thirty years ago now … But yeah, I took him along and bought him a big box of popcorn and there weren’t many people in the auditorium. That movie was wondrous to us both. Tommy kept hiding his face in my coat when the scary bits came up. I was shit scared too. Ha. I recall his little head trembling against my ribs. But he wasn’t too afraid to complete the movie. He wasn’t disturbed by it; was thrilled in a scary way.

That was when he was about seven.

When he was eight he moved to a different city because his mother met this man and the man took them away, a hundred miles down south. So it made it harder to see Tommy.

The job I had back then didn’t have many holidays. And when I did get breaks I would have to get in touch with Tommy’s mother to try and access him. She often said that they already had plans. She might have been lying but I don’t know.

Basically there was a long stretch whereby I didn’t see Tommy for years. Perhaps I didn’t deserve to.

When we did meet up again he was in puberty mode, that zone when teens have no interest in older people. It was odd to see him not-a-boy anymore. He didn’t really look like me or his Mum. So I would take him out for dinner or to a big football game. And I tried the cinema a few times, other blockbusters. Tommy enjoyed some of the films but that was about it. He just wasn’t interested in speaking to me. I knew he was in to rock music; and he liked some of the bands that I did as well when I was his age: but when I tried speaking about them he wouldn’t engage in rapport. Was that deliberate?

I didn’t quite know what went down with his mother’s new partner. The other man. I never even met him physically, as in, a handshake or whatnot. Apparently he didn’t want to meet me, and it was always his mother who drove Tommy to me, rather than me come to their house to pick him up.

Tommy didn’t come home one night – to their house – and he stayed missing for days. I only knew because his mother called me up to ask if he had gone over here to mine.

I drove down to his city to look for him on the streets. To try and locate him. Apparently he’d barely been at home for months and was hanging out with his friends … what his mother said. I wasn’t able to find him. That was in October, when he vanished. His body was found in December. He’d lain out on the train tracks downtown.

I’m never able to not get upset when I see a poster for Jurassic Park these days. Or when it comes on TV around Christmas time or whatever. Can’t watch it. Never will again.

#writeblr #creative writing #writers on tumblr #prose #stories #tumblr writers #short fiction #fiction #short story #flash fiction #spilled ink

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berenwrites · 1 year

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Beyond the Battle - Chapter 44 - Stranger Things - Steddie

Beyond the Battle: Action & Consequence

Click here for All Posted Chapters

Summary: Steve hits things with a bat or gets hit depending on who you ask. He definitely does not have anything to do with the psychic stuff. That is El’s domain. However, as Vecna is defeated, the rules change.

Pairing: steddie (Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson)

Other Relationships: Steve & Robin, Steve & Dustin, Eddie & Dustin

Rating: Teen

A/N: Multi-chapter story, updated regularly. Honestly not sure how many chapters it will have yet because it's still a bit hand wavy in the middle, but definitely more than 12. Thank you to my beta for find my mistakes and to all those who read/like/reblog.💖 Follow #st:beyond-the-battle for updates.

Also on AO3

Chapter 44. Panic Over?

How he got through breakfast Steve would never know, especially after Robin appeared and kept giving him looks. Clearly, he was not doing as well as he thought, but it wasn’t like he could just ditch when there were guests in the house.

However, the moment breakfast was done, Steve hightailed it to his room with Robin and Eddie close behind. He sat on the bed, doing his best not to overthink himself into a hole.

“Okay, what am I missing?” Robin asked the moment his door was closed.

“I think my mom suspects about me and Eddie,” Steve blurted out as Eddie came and sat next to him.

“Holy crap,” Robin said, sitting down on his other side. “Are you okay? What did she say? Are you sure?”

“Steve, tell me if I’m reading this wrong, but I think she was trying to be supportive,” Eddie added.

Steve nodded.

“Well, that’s good,” Robin said, “that’s great … um … isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he replied, sounding kind of unsure.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want his mum knowing and being okay with it, it was just all the doubts crowding in the back of his head that were doing a number on him. What if they were wrong? What if his mom had just been talking and didn’t have a clue about him and Eddie? Too many what ifs.

“I think,” he added.

Robin took his hand.

“Tell me everything,” she said.

“Turns out I have lesbian aunts,” he said, because it was the first thing that leapt into his head.

Robin’s eyes went big and round and for a moment she looked like she might be having a heart attack.

“Well not actual aunts, but I’ve always called them Aunt Marie and Auntie Annie,” he explained. “God I am so stupid. I never … not even after you came out to me … it never occurred to me.”

“Stevie,” Eddie said, since Robin still seemed to be processing, “when we grow up believing something, we don’t always question it. Your mom literally said, they pretend to just be friends to a lot of people. When did you last see them?”

“About six years ago, I think,” he replied. “They came to visit. They stayed in separate rooms.”

“Yeah, well this is Indiana,” Robin said. “Safest for them, safest for you.”

“I hate they thought they had to hide it from me,” he said quietly, “and they were probably right.”

“No, stop right there,” Robin told him firmly. “I came out to you, and you were nothing but sweet.”

“Yeah, but that was after the Upside Down and Russians, that was after King Steve,” he pointed out.

“And that didn’t all just give you a personality transplant,” Robin insisted. “Maybe it made you think and reassess a few things, but you didn’t just become a different person. It would probably have shocked your socks off, but you wouldn’t have done anything bad.”

Her faith in him was gratifying, but he wasn’t sure he completely believed her. He might not have done anything deliberately, but he’d been a stupid kid. Getting drunk and blurting it all out to Tommy and Carol being one distinct possibility.

“She’s right,” Eddie said from his other side. “You were a bit of a dick at times, but you were never outright mean. If you had been an asshole like Billy Hargrove, I never could have fallen for you.”

“So, back to the point, you have lesbian kind-of-aunts and you mom brought them up at breakfast?” Robin asked.

Steve nodded and began to explain the whole backstory of breakups and girlfriends and falling in love, with Eddie adding in the odd comment.

“Yeah,” Robin said when he finally finished, “must agree with Eddie, I think that was your mom letting you know she’ll be there for you if there’s something you need to tell her. The whole ‘shining example of how love is always right’ part was about as subtle as a brick through a window.”

“So, what do I do?” he asked, because his thoughts were all over the place.

“What do you want to do?” Robin asked.

“I don’t know,” he said, a little bit louder than he had intended to.

“Do you want to talk to her?” Eddie suggested gently, rubbing the back of his hand.

“Yes,” he replied immediately, “but no. God why am I so scared?”

“Because this is scary,” Robin replied. “You have no idea how many times I have played over possible scenarios of coming out to my parents in my head. Most of them are trainwrecks because it’s a really, really scary thing.”

“The scariest,” Eddie agreed. “When I came out to Wayne, I had a bag packed and was ready to make a run for it.”

“What happened?” Robin asked, just before Steve blurted out something similar.

“He hugged me and told me he didn’t care who I loved as long as I was happy,” Eddie explained. “Then he sat me down and gave me the most embarrassing sex talk, I nearly died. I had no idea Wayne knew anything about gay sex, but I guess I must have been giving off some signals, because he had pamphlets.”

“Oh my god,” Robin said with a smile. “I love your uncle more the more I hear about him.”

“My mother better not have pamphlets,” was what came out of Steve’s mouth.

“She’d probably get your dad to do that part,” Robin commented.

“Oh god no, that would be worse,” Steve said, shaking his head. “Mom had to do the whole birds and the bees talk because when Dad tried, he was so awkward about it.”

“Think we might be a bit beyond the safe sex talk anyway,” Eddie commented.

Robin’s gaze flicked between them.

“So have you two..?” she asked.

“I wish,” Steve said, before his brain caught up with his mouth.

His face heated up quickly.

“What Steve is so eloquently trying to say, is no, we haven’t gone all the way yet, but we’ve done more than kissing,” Eddie revealed, “and if you want more details, you can ask Steve when I am not in hearing range.”

At least Eddie’s cheeks were flaming as well.

“So, back to my mom,” Steve said before the conversation could get any more awkward.

“You should talk to her,” Robin said confidently, “but you don’t have to do it right now. If you need time, you can take it.”

“I think this morning might have been your mom’s way to give you an opening,” Eddie added. “That’s probably why she didn’t just come out and say it directly. She doesn’t want to push you.”

“What about you?” Steve asked, looking his boyfriend in the eye.

“Well, I’m kind of terrified your mom might give me a shovel talk to end all shovel talks, because your mom is scary as hell, but I can cope with that,” Eddie replied, leaning into him for a moment. “This is about you, not me. So, whatever you need is okay by me.”

Steve took a deep breath and squeezed Eddie’s hand.

He had never thought about coming out to his mom or his dad, it just wasn’t something he had considered, given how long he had known he had anything to come out about. Maybe in the back of his mind there had been a vague idea, but it had been an amorphous thing. He’d more thought about revealing him and Eddie to the party than to his parents. The last few days had been such a whirlwind on top of weeks of upheaval that it was all a bit much.

“I’ll talk to her,” he decided as he let himself process it all, “but maybe not today.”

“If you need backup,” Eddie said, “I’m always here.”

“Me too,” Robin agreed.

“When you do decide, let me know and I’ll talk to Wayne too,” Eddie added. “He’s far too observant for his own good so probably has us pegged already, but it couldn’t hurt to have another adult who can vouch for the fact I’m not a serial killer.”

“My mom already thinks your adorable,” Steve replied.

He gave them both a smile, dropping their hands and pulling them both into a three-way hug. This was something he was pretty sure he had to do by himself, but he was grateful for their supports.

~*~

When they had come back downstairs after Steve’s freakout, his mom had been perfectly normal, entertaining Robin’s parents and even inviting them to stay for lunch so they could all watch the press conference together. It was due at one pm.

Steve spent the morning with Eddie and Robin, going through their packets of cover story information and discussing it between them. Owens had provided them with an outline, enough to answer questions if anyone threw some at them, but Eddie was a consummate storyteller. As they talked it through, he came up with details they could use to sell it more, which in turn inspired Robin and Steve to come up with their own too. It helped solidify the story in Steve’s head as they fleshed their interactions out a little.

Eddie suggested they get all the kids together to do the same thing at some point, and he could only agree.

He helped his mom put together a light lunch around midday and he was perched on the arm of one of the couches next to Robin with Eddie beside her and Wayne in the last seat, while his mom and Robin’s parents took up the other couch and his dad had an armchair. They had the TV on, on the local news station, but had it turned down for now.

Steve wasn’t sure why he was nervous, but from the way Robin was gripping his hand, he was pretty sure he wasn’t the only one. He wished he could have been holding Eddie’s hand as well, but Wayne seemed to be doing a good job of that.

The cover story was thorough, clever, and covered all the bases. It made them all out to be heroes, which made Steve feel a little uncomfortable, but he understood why. This was to protect them from shady government types by making everyone remember them. He didn’t feel like a hero though. He never had. He’d done what he had to do and that was just the way he saw it.

In his opinion, heroes were people who chose to be soldiers or firefighters or doctors, he’d just been thrown into it every time.

“Here it comes,” Robin said, pointing at the screen.

Steve’s dad turned up the volume.

“And now we go live to Hawkins and our reporter Denise Wellman,” the anchor was saying.

“Thanks, John,” a woman with a microphone, standing in front of the ruins of the town hall said. “Hawkins has been the site of some very strange and tragic happenings since the end of March, but we have been led to believe that these are linked to other incidents which have plagued the town. We are just waiting for law enforcement representatives to begin the press conference.”

Denise went on for a little longer, going over the recent earthquake, the murders and more as she filled in while activity started on the platform behind her. Steve tuned most of it out, just watching as familiar faces appeared on the small stage that had been built for the purpose. Hopper was wearing a suit, which just looked bizarre to Steve.

“Hop scrubs up well,” Eddie commented.

The reporter lowered her microphone as the camera panned away from her and focused on the group of people on the stage. Hopper was in the front, with Owens just behind his left shoulder and Chief Powell behind his right.

“Good afternoon,” Hopper began as silence fell. “Thank you all for coming today. My name is Jim Hopper and many of you will know me as the ex-chief of Hawkins’ police. I’ve been officially dead since the summer of last year, but I will get to that later. I stand here today as a representative of the government and of our town. I know everyone has questions, but I will take them at the end as I have a prepared statement and I thank you for your patience.”

He looked round at his audience with a grave expression on his face.

“Our town had been under a shadow for several years,” Hopper went on. “The first incident which alerted us to this was the disappearance of Will Byers, but unfortunately it goes back further than that. Until now, we were unable to reveal the truth because of an ongoing investigation, but that is now complete. Hawkins had been at the centre of a very dangerous international drug ring.”

A murmur went round the gathered crowd at that.

“A new and incredibly dangerous drug came to the notice of the federal government four years ago, one no one had ever seen before,” Hopper went on. “It was known only as Vecna on the underground scene, and it could be deadly with only one use. No one could figure out where it was coming from. What no one realised at the time was the fact the group behind it were highly organised, from countries all around the world, and had government contacts in those countries.”

“There were no clues until the disappearance of Will Byers. He was the first victim in Hawkins. We believe he saw something he was not supposed to, was exposed to the drug, and left for dead. That he was found by his family and friends and survived is a miracle. Unfortunately, he could not recall what he had seen.”

“Barbara Holland was not so lucky.”

Hopper paused to give the reporters and towns people time to digest that. Steve closed his eyes for a second as that night flashed behind his eyes. He still couldn’t shake the guilt. Robin rubbed his hand.

“Hawkins Lab was being used by its head scientist Dr Martin Brenner and a few select members of his team to manufacture Vecna type 1. Every disaster this town has seen since has been caused by the same source,” Hopper continued. “The accident at the lab which caused its closure and the hallucinations among people in town, the Starcourt mall fire, the murders of our children, and the earthquake.”

“Each of these was the drug cartel attempting to take over our town. They caused the accident at the lab and a chemical leak to drive the government presence out of Hawkins. They built Starcourt mall with the help of Mayor Kline, burning it down to cover their tracks when they were discovered. And their secret, illegal mine under our town, and their testing of their drug on our kids caused everything this year. It has been terrible, but it could have been so much worse.”

“I was recruited by the DEA in 1985 to help them figure out if there were still any cartel agents in town by playing at being a cop who would look the other way for enough cash,” Hopper explained. “And when the mall was torched, I had a chance to go deeper into the cartel. I’ve been undercover since. However, and I cannot stress this enough, we owe our town not to government law enforcement, but to a group of kids and young adults. They are why this town is not a battle ground, and the incident in Lock Nora a few days ago was the cartel’s attempt at revenge.”

The noise from the crowd became much louder and Hopper had to hold up his hand to quiet it down.

“I know that sounds fantastic,” Hopper told everyone, “but it’s the truth. After Will Byers’ brush with death, his friends, his family and those closely associated with them became hypervigilant. These kids don’t let anything get past them. It wasn’t the DEA or the FBI who figured out Starcourt was a front, it was these kids. It wasn’t the government who discovered the illegal mine under the town, it was these kids. Without them, the damage to our town would have been far worse. It was their quick thinking, their heroism which prevented a far bigger explosion that would have turned most of this town to ash.”

“Who are these kids?” someone called out.

“I’ll get to that,” Hopper promised. “First there are a few things you must understand. Hawkins was targeted originally because there is a rare mineral under our feet the cartel needed to produce their new designer drug. The earthquake was their mine going up in flames and the heat opening fissures to the surface. The fissures closed once the fire finally burned out. There was also an underground storage facility of other chemicals which had they burned would have caused an explosion that would have taken out the whole town.”

“The three murders this spring were the cartel testing out Vecna 3.0,” Hopper went on. “They targeted innocent high school kids by doctoring ordinary prescription medication. The drug causes catastrophic seizures and contortions when ingested at too high a dose and can cause psychosis at lower levels.”

“So there was no serial killer?” someone asked.

“No,” Hopper replied. “These innocent victims were targeted by faceless scientists with no conscience.”

“What about Eddie Munson?” another bright spark piped up.

Steve’s heart beat harder at that, even though he already knew what was coming.

“Okay, let’s talk about Eddie. Eddie is the opposite to the lies and slander that have been spread about him,” Hopper said in a tone that begged someone to argue with him so he could punch their lights out. “Everyone in Hawkins knows Eddie used to sell weed. More than a few of you have bought from him. What you don’t know is when he heard whispers about a new dangerous drug making its way into Hawkins, he came to me, way before I was recruited by the DEA. He even deliberately failed to graduate the second time so he could keep an eye on what was going on at Hawkins High. He was also my only contact with the outside while I was undercover.”

“No one is ever going to believe that,” Eddie muttered, the first person to do more than breathe as they watched.

“If I didn’t know the truth, I’d believe it,” Robin said quietly.

“Eddie nearly died trying to get the word out about the mine when he found out about it,” Hopper went on.

“Where were you?” someone asked.

“Chicago,” Hopper replied. “We didn’t know why Hawkins was a focus until we knew about the mine. It’s the puzzle piece that made the picture make sense. After Starcourt we thought the cartel were only mildly interested in Hawkins anymore. Eddie would have died if it wasn’t for his friends, who also happen to be friends of Will Byers. The kids I am talking about are Robin Buckley, Will and Jonathan Byers, Gareth Emerson, Argyle Franco, Steve Harrington, Dustin Henderson, my daughter, Jane Hopper, Jeff Newton, Max Mayfield, Lucas and Erica Sinclair, Frank Thomas, and Mike and Nancy Wheeler. Some of them have been involved since the beginning, some only more recently, but they have all saved this town.”

“When Eddie went to ground and was taken captive by the cartel, these kids went looking for him,” Hopper told the enrapt crowd. “Just like when they heard coded messages at Starcourt mall they went looking too. They found Eddie, got him out and together they all prevented the explosives in the chemical storage facility from going up. Without them this whole area would be a crater. There was also information in the facility which allowed the DEA and other organisations to finally close in on the puppet masters in the cartel. We owe so many lives, local and international, to a bunch of very brave kids, and several of them wear the scars to prove it.”

Steve’s hand went to his neck without his conscious consent. Hopper made it sound like a badge of honour.

“There are more details in the press packs,” Hopper said as he wound up his explanation. “Now I will take questions.”

A barrage of sound came from the reporters and members of the public in the crowd and Steve’s dad turned down the volume.

“Who knew Hopper could be more dramatic than me,” Eddie commented.

“Maybe he’s a closet thespian,” Robin said in kind.

“Closet what?” Steve asked.

“Actor,” Eddie said without the remotest hesitation.

“Well, he’s definitely got my vote,” he replied. “I would have believed every word he said.”

He couldn’t help noticing that all their parental figures were looking at them a little bit strangely. Possibly their coping mechanisms were showing.

End of Chapter 44

Chapter 45

#stranger things fanfiction #steddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie lives #stranger things #st:beyond-the-battle #fanfic #post season 4 #vampire eddie #hurt/comfort #vampire eddie munson #steve harrington has powers #steddie fanfic #steddie fic

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gemwing1988 · 10 months

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Rugrats: Babies in Toyland ❄️🎄🎁🧸🚂

Warning, this will contain spoilers of the special so please read with care and enjoy.

Rugrats: Babies in Toyland, is my all time favourite Christmas Special in the entire franchise. It is very a fun and entertaining special filled with some festive baby adventures and it carries a pure message of learning the true meaning of Christmas.

The special tells us the story of Tommy and his friends celebrating his brother’s first Christmas and trying to make it special as well as keeping Dil happy.

This Christmas, the entire friends and families are heading off to visit Christmas Land, a winter wonderland designed by Stu, Dil and Tommy’s inventor father and endorsed by their Aunt Charolette’s company.

While celebrating Baby Dil’s first Christmas is the main plot, Angelica has her own story arc where she claims to be good all year, when in reality, she’s being completely naughty since the start of the episode where she scares off the Christmas carollers at hers cousins’ house, being rude to one of the staff members dressing as one of Santa’s elves and gong as far as gleefully lying to Tommy and his friends that if Dil doesn’t get a present the first time round, he’ll never have another Christmas for the rest of his life.

And she’s only digging herself deeper by driving the man who was hired to play as Santa to quit, making the kids think the real Santa Claus was calling it quits.

While Angelica had been a complete brat about the guy giving her a cute toy reindeer with a scarf plushy instead of what she had listed out what she actually wanted, I have to be honest, I did got out a few giggles when she exclaimed this following quote:

Angelica: You’ve got me a… MOOSE?!?! 😡

Meanwhile, while they were checking out the atheistic of an old pioneer cabin, the grown-ups get snowed in when Stu’s snow machine malfunctions and they try to think of a way to get out.

Back with the kids, when Kimi suggested that when “Santa” had quit, he had left all of the presents at his workshop back in the North Pole. Unfortunately, being the greedy and selfish little brat as she is, Angelica had no intention of sharing Christmas with the babies and wants all the presents to herself. She deliberately lies to the babies and directs them to the woods while she sneaks off to the North Pole on her own with Prancy the Reindeer as her only companion.

During a crazy yet cute fantasy of the babies getting involved in a scene from the Nutcracker, facing up against the wicked Mouse King and his mouse army, the babies gathered a few items they believed are presents: Chuckie finds a large Christmas walnut, Phil takes a ballet slipper from Clara (of course Lil did ask first) while Lil takes a ribbon and Kimi picks a small bell that Chuckie accidentally kicked off from the Mouse King’s neck (long story).

After making their escape, the babies encounter a lost goat under the belief he belongs to Santa and decided to take him with them.

While still trapped in the cabin, the adults soon start to learn the true meaning of Christmas while making decorations and roasting chestnuts just like the pioneers used to do.

Meanwhile, after she reaches the North Pole, Angelica starts to understand the true meaning of Christmas herself after she was given “The Reason You Suck” Speech from Santa’s head elf when he told her the cold hard truth about her being nothing but naughty throughout the entire night as well as is genuinely heartbroken when a now living Prancy rejected her after she had called him a “dumb reindeer” earlier.

After a charming song sequence that motivated her to be good all through the year while treating each day like Christmas, Angelica has a change of heart and reconciles with Prancy while deciding to seek out the babies and bring them their presents.

Meanwhile, after he thought the kids were under the care of his wife, Lulu and the other adults, Grandpa Lou volunteers to play Santa while the guy who had quit is missing in action. When he other hears a report of “Six babies have been seen with a goat heading towards the Bethlehem pavilion”, Lou grabs a little one horse open sleigh and rides off to the rescue.

Open reaching Bethlehem, the babies find a doll of Baby Jesus and give him all the presents they had gathered on their journey. Even Dil wanted to give the baby the hat he had picked up, which is a very sweet Character Development since Dil tends to get all grabby, claiming anything he gets his tiny hands on since his debut in the first movie.

After Lou rounds them up and pulls over to dig his family and friends out from the snowed-in cabin, Chuckie is the one to voice out that the presents don’t really matter since the babies still had fun together and that Christmas is all about being with all they hold so dear.

A fully reformed Angelica enters the scene and gives the babies their presents. To add in the heartwarming moment, she decided to give Prancy to Dil, promising she’ll visit her reindeer friend.

After the fa likes are reunited, everyone all agree that this Christmas is the best one yet before they all gathered around the piano as Lou and Lulu happily sing “We Wish You a Merry Christmas while the specials ends with the real Santa Claus flying over Christmas Land in his sleigh, delivering gifts to all the good children all over the world.

I always liked tobelieve that Babies in Toyland is the official finale of the original Rugrats because it serves a healthy Character Development for Angelica’s character and I just love the message it brings out the true meaning of Christmas.

Hope you all enjoy that special as much as I do and I wish you a Merry Christmas, a Happy New Year and may your dreams shine. ✨

🎁🧸🚂

#Rugrats #nostalgia #this is so wholesome 😊#Merry Christmas

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angrylizardjacket · 2 years

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Run to Paradise {Nikki Sixx} Part 37

37. bare so much hate for the ones we love

Summary: lola tells tommy the truth, but plays the bad guy for the sake of his relationship with heather.

Warnings: angst, discussions of manipulation and infidelity

ragtag bunch of misfits: @starlalove @xrosegoldwolfx @ksjo @lovehelpmewrite @letsxmcfrickenloseit @glitterdreamsz @freddiessmallnipples @crazysaladchopshop @dramatique-moi @calspixie @catsoo12 @sweetshutter @silvertonguedserpent @shamelessobsessions @lavenderbones22 @keepcalm-and-beyou @scarecrowmax @nicholeh7 @unknownoblivion @sighsophiia @fruitinthebottom @misscharlottelee @local-troubled-writer @talktowallpaper @redlipscrystalskies14 @kaitieskidmore1 @shugarsnaps @m-1234

{ MASTERLIST }

For all that Lola's played the villain, she's never done it quite like this, never so deliberately, and never with such good intentions. Relatively speaking. Maybe she should have told Tommy her plan beforehand, but all considered, she knew the hopeless romantic wouldn't let her fall on this grenade alone.

When she asks Tommy to visit, she insists he bring Heather too. Heather wasn't exactly thrilled, but at least she agreed to come; small miracles.

After the initial greetings and obligatory small talk, Lola asks to speak to Heather alone. Both Tommy and Heather are hesitant to agree, but Lola is imploring and pregnant and there's still the faintest guilt the pair feel regarding her OD's proximity to their wedding, so finally they oblige.

So Lola, sober and with years of second hand PR training in the back of her head, and having vastly expanding her lexicon after months of actual therapy, tells Heather about the night she slept with Tommy, less than a month before their wedding. Lola twists her words and implications with hindsight, weaving a story and a web of lies where she'd seduced Tommy intentionally by playing the victim, that she'd preyed on his good heart in her own time of weakness, and the regret Tommy had felt in the aftermath. Lola's own regret and guilt were left out of the retelling; she was not looking for forgiveness for herself, she simply wanted to cause one of the few people she truly loved as little pain as possible, and that meant she had to be the villain of this story.

"Why the hell would you tell me this? I know he loves you, okay?" Heather hisses with tears in her eyes. Lola's had this fight before; Heather even looks a bit like Sharise.

"Tommy loves everyone, that's my point," Lola fires back sharply, "and I used that against him, knowing-" Lola's voice catches for a moment and her gaze drops; Nikki's voice is an old echo in her head but she fights to ignore it, "knowing how happy you make him. I was jealous and alone and- and- and I think I missed before, when I had the whole band wrapped around my little finger. I knew it would hurt him but I didn't- at the time I was so fucked I didn't care. I'm sorry; you are well within your rights to never forgive me, but I still owe you an apology."

A long silence fills the space between them both; Lola can't look up from her hands.

"Your kid is his, isn't it?" Heather's betrayed tone is watery, crying silently across from Lola, "that's why you're telling me all this shit."

"He doesn't know," Lola murmurs faintly, "and I didn't want you to hate him for it."

"He's a fucking idiot but you're a fucking monster," Heather spits, tone so sharp Lola actually flinches. Her fidgeting fingers curling into themselves reflexively and grow still, "but it's still his kid." Heather stands sharply, hands braced on the table. After a beat, she sighs deeply and heads to the door of the side room Lola'd been graciously given for the visiting time.

At the door Lola hears her call for Tommy, and tiredly informs him that she was heading back to their hotel, and that they'd need to talk once he got back. But she kisses him with a kind of tenderness that sets Lola's anxious heart to rest for the time being, at least until Tommy closes the door behind himself and asks what Lola had said to his wife.

And Lola is honest in a way that makes Tommy look ill, stating candidly that she had told Heather about how they slept together a month before his wedding. He's in the seat across from her practically whining, asking why she would do that, and Lola takes a moment and a deep breath.

"I told her I seduced you, that I was lonely and played the victim and manipulated your good nature -"

"Lols, that night you didn't- you said -"

"I know," unlike with Heather, Lola can't break eye contact with Tommy; he's always been safe, even now, she'd never cut herself on a look he's given her, "I know what I said, and I promise I never wanted any of this, I never wanted to do something that would end up causing you any sort of pain-" Lola insists, "and if there was any other way I could have kept that between us I promise I would have -" her words catch, truth feeling like it was about to choke her, "I'm tired of being a homewrecker, Tommy, but this was the only option I could think of where- where- where-"

"Where she didn't end up hating me," Tommy's voice is so soft and rich with sudden understanding, it's enough to set off Lola's waterworks.

"Stop looking at me like that," Lola's voice trembled as she finally ducked her gaze, "you stupid motherfucker stop looking at me like you still love me!" Lola sobbed loudly now, hunching in on herself, arms wrapped around her bowed head, shaking and shuddering as she cried, "Heather makes you happy!"

"Lola," his voice is so gentle, as is the way he carefully rests his hand on one of hers, "you make me-"

"Don't you fucking dare," Lola grits her teeth and looks up; there's a heartbroken fury in her eyes, in her razor sharp words, "after everything that's happened and everything we've been through, after you followed through and married Heather, can you fucking please not keep stringing me along like this?"

Tommy let's her go. His expression falls; he stammers out half-apologies but Lola cuts him off with a deep, loud sigh.

"I'm okay with being your friend, but I'm Heather's villain and if you love her you can't keep loving me, or letting me love you like this; if things were different I'd probably try and let you go completely, but I can't," and finally Lola sits back, looking Tommy in the eyes with her cheeks tear-stained, "because this kid is yours."

"Oh."

Tommy is unreadable.

He's looking her in the eyes, but for the first time since she's known him, Lola has absolutely no idea what he's thinking or feeling in this moment.

And he leaves without another word, and one of the nurses finds Lola at the end of visitation, still in the side room, crying her eyes out.

It's a new and horrible kind of radio silence that follows, the kind where she's been allowed to do the business side of the band's management from her rehab, and Zutaut has hired a stand in manager to go with the band on their upcoming tour. With all that she knows about what they're doing, the contact with them is sporadic at best.

Nikki calls the most, but his calls are always brief. Vince's calls are always late, when Lola's awake but his own daughter isn't, and Lola will let him vent about the band and the tour like the others won't put up with. Mick will only call if he has a professional question or concern, but he always asks how she is.

And she's getting better day by day, but Tommy never calls.

Her stay at the facility last the entirety of her pregnancy at her own request, stable and self aware enough now that she wasn't to be trusted in these last few months. It means that despite the life Lola had chosen to live before, her daughter is born miraculously healthy.

Lola calls Athena, Tommy's sister, and asks if it would be appropriate, if Tommy would hate her for it, if the family would be okay with it-

She's got his eyes, just as Tommy was born with his father's before him, and Tommy's mother, Vassiliki, cries with joy the first time she holds her granddaughter, Vassilisa Carlotta Lee, named in her honour.

#the dirt #the dirt movie #nikki sixx #tommy lee #nikki sixx imagine #tommy lee imagine #nikki sixx x oc #tommy lee x oc #motley crue imagine #the angry lizard writes #rtp

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victorluvsalice · 5 years

Text

AU Thursday: Londerland Bloodlines -- Already Editing The Pre-Game Timeline

Mostly because, the day after I posted it, I had a better idea for triggering Victor's move to Los Angeles while trying to remember when you meet Samantha in the main game (whom Victoria is replacing -- turns out it's right after you get the "Dead Ex" quest from Isaac). Rather than Victoria sending him a letter saying her parents (and thus she) aren't moving back to Burtonsville, I imagine it going down closer to this:

-->First of all, I've compressed the timeline down some -- I felt like Victor and Victoria were dating for way too long, especially given their canonical relationship is formed in a much, much shorter period of time. So I've moved the date of their first meeting to late April, and the date of the "Corpse Bride" incident to late June. This means Victor and Victoria were dating for roughly two months, and then the below also takes place over roughly two months, which feels more realistic (Victoria is willing to put up with a lot from her parents, but not quite THIS much)

-->Anyway, yes, at the end of June, after the kidnapping and Emily and all of that, Maudeline, Finis, Victoria, and Hildegarde all go to the summer house to destress, and for a while, everything is okay

-->Maudeline and Finis decide to take the opportunity of being away from the Van Dorts to start introducing Victoria to new suitors once more; an annoyed Victoria, not ready to date again, turns them down

-->There are an increasing number of fights about this -- Victoria finally forces herself to go out on a date with one Augustus Giovanni one evening in September, but she hates the experience (not in the least because Augustus refuses to eat anything and creeps her out) and fakes illness to get out of it early

-->Victoria finally has enough shortly after Augustus and decides she wants out -- with Hildegarde's help, she scrapes up enough money for a plane ticket and a hotel for a little while and flies out to Los Angeles herself

-->Her intention was to send Victor a letter explaining she'd moved so he'd know where to contact her going forward, leaving it with Hildegarde to post -- however, poor Hildegarde loses the letter when Maudeline interrogates her about Victoria's flight. Maudeline takes the letter, destroys it, and sends her own letter to Victor telling him Victoria is "gone" and not to contact them again

-->Victor receives the letter and is stunned, with his brain bouncing back and forth between "did she even care for me, maybe she got sick of me while she was away" and "what the hell did her parents do to make her just up and leave like that" -- either way, he knows he's never finding out where she went from the Everglots, and decides if Victoria can leave her parents, he can too

I feel like this scenario works better with the characters as they're established -- Victoria didn't want to break permanently with Victor, after all, she just wanted some time to get herself back together after a traumatic experience. And then her parents started retraumatizing her and -- well, it all got to be a little much. AND this allows me to note when she met one of the Giovanni clan! So good news all around. :)

Oh! And an idea that I just had while posting this -- maybe the reason she’s coming out of the Cavoletti Cafe when she encounters Victor and Alice isn’t because she’s a patron, it’s because she’s a waitress. She needs a job if she’s been in L.A. the longest out of the mains, after all! So maybe she’s just coming off her shift when she spots her ex? Oooh, I like that. . .

#londerland bloodlines #timeline #*edits said timeline to put in the waitress idea*#I was wondering what I was going to have her do with herself before she became a part of the plot #and then this just hit me out of the blue #also means I have to fail the 'Dish Best Served Cold' quest #Alice already wasn't keen on it #but upon learning Victor's ex works there. . .#well she deliberately misses Tommy #LaCroix scolds her for her failure but Alice is like 'boo you whore'#one of the few times where she can ignore his commands!#yeah loss of XP in game but #I was willing to give up Pisha's Very Useful Items for the sake of Alice's morals soo #but yeah I think this works a little better and makes things a little more balanced re: Victor's relationships with the girls #Victoria's still the one he's known the longest but it's not SUCH a lead #again everything is subject to change as I continue working on this epic #but I like this so far :)#queued

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cambria-writes · 2 years

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Comments, reblogs, tags and replies are always welcome heavily encouraged actually ❤ pairing: jane x named reader word count: 2,281 rating: PG13 warnings: discussion of murders, weapons, typical procedural show stuff previousnext

𝕮��𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕱𝖔𝖚𝖗: 𝔖𝔲𝔫𝔤𝔩𝔬𝔴

You wake up slowly and lazily. No fanfare. And no idea when you fell asleep to begin with. Panic shakes you awake; you don't recognize the room you're in. You stumble to the door before you remember. The murder, the blood, the hours of driving here and there.

Lean against the door, press your forehead against it. Tommy's death feels so unreal. Just yesterday morning you said hello, talked about his newborn grandson. Let yourself hyperventilate for a bit before trying to take deep breaths. Christ, who's going to take care of Peekaboo?

Wait.

Turn around too fast and lose balance. You have no idea where your phone is. Thankfully, that doesn't seem necessary. Mr Jane looks to be asleep in the arm chair. Pulled it back to where it was, away from the desk. His jacket is still on the counter in the small kitchenette.

You dig through the pockets to find his phone; blissfully unlocked. Everyone also is thankfully entered with their actual names.

"Jane where the hell have you been?" Agent Lisbon sounds extremely upset and out of breath. It takes you a second to be able to answer. She sounds entirely different from yesterday.

"Um, Agent Lisbon? It's Skye Benraft?"

"Oh. Oh my god, Miss Benraft I'm so sorry. I thought..." Can almost hear her pinch the bridge of her nose. "What can I help you with?" Voice still has an edge to it, but she sounds much more like the agent you spoke to earlier.

"Sorry, I just—Agent Van Pelt told me to call if I remembered anything and you were the first name I recognized in Mr Jane's phone, uh. He stayed the night. I mean! Jesus no he kept me company? God all of that sounds wrong, shit." Take another stuttering breath.

"I'm sorry, Miss Benraft, but I'm—"

"No, it's—the dog, Tommy had a dog. A tiny black and white thing? God I really don't know what race it is, just that her name is Peekaboo and she wasn't in the house when I was there," you finish with a sigh, run a nervous hand through your hair.

"It's possible the dog just ran off after the murder. The door was left open," Lisbon tries to reason. If it had been any other dog and any other person, you might have been inclined to agree.

"No, no Peekaboo never stayed more than ten feet away from Tommy. He'd walk her without a leash all the time and in the eight years I've been in that neighborhood she's never run away before."

Agent Lisbon is fairly quiet for a moment. You hear a door opening and closing and conversations in the distance.

"Do you have any idea if the dog was a pure bred? Some kind of show dog?," agent Lisbon asks. You frown; it's not hard to recall.

"Uh, actually. Probably, yeah. Yeah I think I remember Tommy mentioning that Peekaboo won a couple shows? He might have been preparing for another show, I—it's not like we talked a lot but that was just so weird that a man in his nineties would enter a dog show. It kind of stood out, right?"

Lisbon makes an appreciative sound on the other end. "Thank you, Skye, that's actually a great help. Was there anything else?" She sounds like a patient mother, now. Calm and collected. Makes you feel like you actually helped. You're not convinced you did.

"Well, there's, I don't really know how to—"

Your conversation is cut short; the phone is plucked from your hands and your heart just about leaps out of your rib cage.

"Lisbon! I'll be busy today. Take Grace with you, I'm sure she'll appreciate it." Snaps the phone shut.

Oh Jesus. You absolutely feel like a wounded gazelle under his stare. His face only seems impassive on the surface; even you can recognize the clenching of the jaw and the deliberate set of the brows. You back up against the fridge.

"I couldn't find my phone I didn't go through your stuff I swear I just, I remembered something and I figured you'd have someone's. What... what are you doing?"

Confused, you watch Mr Jane grab and throw his jacket over his shoulder. Pulls out a pair of aviators from god knows where. He grabs your messenger bag and throws it at you. You only barely manage to catch it.

"You're phone's in the side pocket."

"Where are we going, though? I mean I'm not exactly dressed for anything?"

Turns around. You don't like that toothy grin in the slightest.

"You are going to be putting your newfound knowledge to good use."

Questions bubble up and out of you like water in the parking lot. You hadn't given much thought as to what kind of car you would be traveling in. You'd assumed something like the CBI SUV agent Van Pelt drove yesterday.

"Is that an actual Citroen? What year is it? My parents called this a fish tank but it looks kind of nice? Whose soul did you sell to be able to afford gas for this thing? Does it still have the original engine block? What about the paint job?"

Jane makes an attempt to answer as many of your questions as he can. Eventually, he stops trying, simply lets you go on until you stop yourself, realize you've been rambling and shut up. There's nothing malicious about any of it. It's almost indulgent.

The car itself is actually more comfortable than it looks, which is honestly saying a lot. You settle into comfortably and completely forego asking where you're going. You probably wouldn't get a straight answer anyways. You do, however, have a few more unrelated questions.

"When did I fall asleep?"

Mr Jane seems to mull this over a bit, tapping out a beat on the steering wheel. "Around two this morning, I think," he answers easily, keeping his eyes on the road. There's an expression you can't quite read on his face. "You don't remember?"

You shake your head. "No, I just..." You trail off, frowning and trying to remember something. Anything. "I remember your asking what I know about cold reading, tells and non-verbal shit but like. Not really... anything after that?"

He lets a beat pass. You have two simultaneous realizations in those few seconds.

"Wait, you. Did you hypnotize me?" You make sure to make your disbelief clear. Jane looks at you for a second. Again with that self satisfaction. "Why?"

"To see how prone you are to suggestion," he explains. The tone in his voice makes you feel like this is a conclusion you should have drawn naturally, by yourself. How the hell.

"And?"

"Not very, stunningly."

You want to be offended. But the answer surprises you, too. You would have thought that your willingness to believe in hypnosis and suggestion would make you especially susceptible to it. You're almost relieved to hear that isn't the case. You sink back in your seat, look off to the east. Dark clouds rolling in on the horizon. It's a little eerie.

"If I ask, will you tell me where we're going?"

You aren't sure if that was a chuckle or a scoff. "Probably not."

For two hours, you're mostly left to yourself and your phone. When you first check it you've got about 20 missed calls and just as many text messages. Some from concerned friends, most from the bookstore owner. For the first half hour, that's all you do. Reply to messages and make calls. Everyone seems distraught that you stumbled upon a corpse, and the store owner insists you take a week off, maybe two. Whatever time you need, she says she'll pay you for half of it. Least I could do, she says.

You're most of the way to sleeping when Mr Jane pulls over at a diner. A little nondescript place off the interstate, looks family owned. You aren't given an explanation.

"Please tell me this is a food stop," you ask. Complain, actually; you won't lie. You're starving. You can't remember the last time you ate anything substantial.

"I don't know about you but I'm craving a good burger," Jane replies, and again you feel like you aren't actually being told anything. Or getting answers.

You're seated at a comfortable booth by a plucky waitress. She talks too much. Thankfully, Jane takes care of most of the small talk. You nod when appropriate, but otherwise keep quiet. He orders for you. You'd be offended if he hadn't actually asked for scrambled eggs and bacon with a cup of coffee for you. Coffee sounds like just the thing you need right now.

When the waitress comes back some time later with both food and coffee (bless her and the cook, they are saints), Mr Jane pipes up, rests a hand on the woman's arm. You can't help but frown; that's a trick, right? Something nags at your memory, but you can't quite wrap your mind around it just yet.

"Have you heard about a murdered dog owner, out here?"

Your jaw drops. That... you did not expect that.

But the waitress suddenly has a gleam in her eye. A true gossip. Figures; small communities have fast-traveling news. You, however, can't connect the dots to Tommy, his missing dog and this waitress in the middle of relatively nowhere on the way to who knows where.

"Oh my—yes, I did! Poor old man," she puts a hand over her heart and looks genuinely crestfallen. "Johnny or Tommy or something, right? He'd stop by here every couple months with this cutest little dog! Black and white, a uh, what's it called again."

"Havanese, right?" Jane has eyes only for the waitress. You can't say she doesn't notice. She looks flattered by the attention.

"Yeah, that's it! Havanese! Cutest little thing, like I said. We're a nice spot for those dog show people when they come down. We're one of the only dog-friendly diners around here, yeah? So a lot of people will stop by on their way to Paso Robles." The waitress seems blissfully oblivious to the handful of patrons shooting her either interested or displeased looks.

Jane leans in. You begin to wonder what it is about people and pretending they have a secret. Jesus.

"I heard," he starts, hushed tone, looks around as if to make sure no one else is paying attention. Everyone is. You sure are. "That it was that one crazy killer. The one that started in Fresno?"

The waitress gasps, mostly shocked and entirely captivated. "No way!" She startles herself, looks around, lowers her tone. "You're kidding, right? Why would anyone kill a poor old man over a dog?"

Mr Jane shrugs and begins nursing what you assume, by now, is a mug of tea. The waitress—her name is Mindy, you think, but the nametag is awfully faded—turns to you with a shocked expression. You can't think of anything else to do but shrug as well.

"She's the one who found the body," Jane whispers, and you can feel you chest and neck turn red.

"Oh. Oh my god. Oh my god," Waitress Mindy brings both hands to her mouth and completely forgets about the pad and pen she was holding. They clatter to the floor, but no one seems to notice or care. "Oh sweetie, I can't let you pay. That's terrible. It's on the house, don't worry about it."

And then she disappears through the doors to the kitchen.

You glare at Mr Jane.

"That was completely and wholly un—"

"It wasn't completely unnecessary," he cuts you off, that toothy, wolfish grin on his face again. You're torn between finding it charming and annoying. Maybe limited exposure makes it more endearing. "Now we know who killed Old Man Tommy."

You pause and frown. You also wonder how fast you'll develop wrinkles with how much you've frowned in the past two days.

"Wait so. There's a serial killer in California, from Fresno, who, what? Kills people with prize dogs? That makes no sense?" You're almost too incredulous to touch your eggs. Almost. You try not to think about what happens to the dogs. Shove some bacon down your throat and pretend it was never an animal.

Jane patiently sits in front of you, sipping his tea and occasionally having a bit of eggs on toast. Alright, so he's trying to let you figure this out for yourself. You have no idea why, but alright. What the heck? Some brain work will keep you distracted enough to forget a corpse in rigor mortis.

"Kills the owner, goes after a show dog. Probably doesn't kill the dog; I mean, if you go through the trouble of eli...eliminating competition?" You get a raised brow in response. Okay, close, but a little off track. "Well the dogs aren't getting kidnapped to be used in shows. Judges would notice that the same dog is showing up under a different owner and trainer. Right? Unless..." You trail off, biting down on your fork.

"Unless what?," Jane prompts, leans back in his seat and throws his arm over the back.

"Okay but saying that the judges or the registration staff are in on it is some conspiracy theory BS though, right?" You pause. No reply. Passive face, not even a raised brow. You deflate. "Oh come on, that can't be right."

"You tell me, Fortune Teller. What do the cards say?"

You hate the condescending tone, but take out your deck of cards regardless. You're not liking the feeling of being a pet project, but even you can't deny that this is the most excitement you've had in years.

@fucklife-or-me pray for the tag to work 🙏

#the mentalist #patrick jane #the mentalist fanfic #the mentalist fanfiction #patrick jane x reader #patrick jane x you #named reader #no y/n #mentions of murder #mentions of corpses #look it's a procedural show #there's death involved all the time #honey and the hatchet

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evita-shelby · 2 years

Text

Nothing More Difficult than Love

Chapter 9

Taglist: @whitejuliana1204 @lovemesevesey @livelifewondering

Gif by @chimestims

“I'll confess.” He said once they sat on the church bench. “I need someone. Kimber has an adviser by the name of Roberts. He talks well. Keeps the accounts. Runs the legal side of the business.”

“And you need a Roberts?” she asked as if she hadn’t expected him to ask her to work for him. “I’m not an accountant nor a lawyer.”

Not a very good actress, Eva’s voice says in his mind.

“No. No, but you have something I need.” He paused deliberately. “Class. I need someone who looks right at the big meetings. Epsom, Ascot.”

“Won’t the soon to be Mrs. Shelby mind?” there is a tinge of jealousy and anger in the way she said it.

“She’ll come around. She knows I’ll need a secretary if she wants me to help her run our businesses.” He answers, leaving out the part where Eva will be doing the bulwark of it and Tiago would be her superior. The professional spy and assassin did have a business degree after all.

“You know that most of what I do is illegal?” He asked her.

“I'm not blind.” She said in response.

“And yet you'd still be willing to work for me?” he asked her

“Are you offering me the job?” she was genuinely surprised and the said the only part that mattered. “Then I accept.”

“There's something else you should know. A very important detail about my reasons for employing you.” He brushed her blonde hair as he cupped her cheek and kissed her.

“You don’t have to marry her.” Grace said softly.

He had expected her to bring it up.

“I gave her my word. A broken engagement is a serious thing.” He pretended that was the reason he refused to back down. “Her family has lawyers and assassins in it, they aren’t people we want as enemies.”

There was something there. It wasn’t strong enough yet, but it would get there. Worst of all, there was no one else who understood him like she did.

There was something with Grace too. He knew she was a liar, but something felt real underneath all the lies.

Thomas was at a crossroads; one he had a feeling he’ll be standing in even after he marries Eva tomorrow.

----

“I didn’t think you’d come.” He whispers when he lifts the lace veil over her face.

“I didn’t think you’d come either.” She admitted sheepishly. Eva pretends she didn’t scream into her pillow the night before when she saw him kissing Grace in the church.

Funny, wasn’t it? They had shown up, wearing their wedding clothes and afraid that they would be left at the altar by the other.

She loves him, she thinks.

It was impossible not to feel things for him, but love doesn’t happen the same for everyone.

With Antonia, Eva had realized it when they both got drunk on stolen red wine in the linen closet in the Mexico City townhouse and she tasted love on her friend’s lips.

With Diosdado, it was when he showed up with a silver filly from his raid on the famous King’s Ranch.

With Tommy, it was seeing him kiss another woman and feeling her heart break in pieces as she silently walked away.

He wore a red rose boutonniere she had made for him; she wore the sixpence minted in 1896 he and Finn had spent three weeks looking for in her left shoe.

Eva never thought she’d be getting married.

Sure, she used to when she was a girl, but then everything went to shit in 1913 and Eva’s biggest priority was making it to the end of the week alive.

Back then she’d dreamed of marrying for love like her parents had done. Now she had been disabused of the notion that weddings were nothing more than elaborate business transactions.

The ceremony was small, just friends and family, but the party would have most of Small Heath in attendance. As much as people feared them, they wouldn’t miss a party with free drinks nor risk the ire of the Shelbys.

Which meant Grace would be here.

She is wearing the red ensemble she got for the races and Eva feels like a bull seeing the red muleta of a matador.

Eva hates her now. Hates how she looks at Tommy and hates that Tommy has continued to string the blonde bitch along.

“You look beautiful, Mrs. Shelby.” There is so much in that title, you can barely hear it in her voice, but Eva can feel it in the air, like lightning before a storm.

“Thank you, Miss. Burgess. Are you enjoying the party?” Eva’s looked soft and sweet and innocent in silk lace whiter than fresh snow. Made people wonder how such a sweet girl found herself married to man like Tommy Shelby.

Most of it was an act.

Don’t get her wrong, Eva chose to be good, but she could be bad. So bad you’d wonder who the fuck she was.

Grace looked at Tommy as he laughed and drank with his brothers.

“It’s unlike any I’ve ever been.” She said diplomatically.

“Never fancied yourself in love with the groom before, eh?” Eva asked with a smirk and a sip of whiskey. She shouldn’t drink too much, she’ll lose control and then kill whatever they have in it’s cradle.

“I’m just his secretary.” The blonde woman had the decency to look embarrassed, her blue eyes darting to see if she could summon Tommy to her rescue.

“Barmaid, secretary, whore. All three are pretty interchangeable these days.” The dark-haired witch let her forked tongue show.

“I’m not a whore.” The blonde bristled; Eva always enjoyed this game.

“Oh, right, whores get paid for their services. My mistake.” Did it make her a terrible person for enjoying it?

“He doesn’t love you.” Terrible thing to say to a bride at the wedding, don’t you think?

“Love takes time, Burgess. It will come. I’ve seen it. Four children, a house in the country and you barely a footnote in his past.” Eva traced the rim of her glass with her ring finger.

She swallowed, angry.

Good. The witch smiled when the blonde left in a huff.

Polly comes with a worried look, no doubt she’s seen John and Lizzie acting to friendly with each other.

She didn’t notice the strange fascination the prostitute had for Tiago who regaled them with tales that could get them all killed.

But they wouldn’t tell, everyone knew not to speak about it.

“He’s not one for subtlety, isn’t he?” Eva asked the older woman.

“I doubt John knows what it means. He wants to marry her. Makes comments about how she’s no longer taking clients and that she’s got herself into a course for finishing up her secondary education.” Polly eyes them like a hawk.

“Won’t work out, hopefully it will fall apart without them getting too hurt. Heartbreak is always a bitch.” Eva nudged her slightly so she noticed Tiago and Lizzie being more friendly than Tiago and John were being.

“You should worry about your cousin too.” Polly said with a wince.

“He shows up more in her readings than John does. My family won’t judge her.” Eva explained. “They might make her their pet project and make a high society lady out of her, but they’ll be happy just to know Tiago’s name won’t die with him.”

“Better happen soon before he or the children get to attached.” Polly drank her whiskey straight from the bottle.

“Don’t worry about it, what the universe wants the universe gets.” She said with a chuckle.

“You’ve seen it then. Is that why he keeps saying ‘marry in September’s shrine, your living will be rich and fine’ lately?” Polly said bemused.

“Yes, he’ll marry in September, just not to Lizzie.” Eva nodded. “Tommy might be the reason it happens, though.”

“Who will she be?” Polly asked looking at Tommy ask his brother why she was there with a look.

“Esme Lee, she’ll give him three more children and be a hell of a mother to all seven.” Eva says quietly and changed the topic when she noticed her groom coming towards them.

“Never asked you if you could dance, I hope you don’t mind me asking now.” He had his hand outstretched, and Eva wanted nothing more than to leave it like that.

“I'm a great dancer, Tom.” Eva giggled and took his hand, bad omen if the bride refused to dance with the groom. “I’m surprised you didn’t make the connection between dancing and ballet.”

“The guns were moved away from your warehouse; Grace took the bait.” Tommy tells her as they dance for the first time as husband and wife.

“You didn’t have to kiss her when you offered her the job.” She pointed out. Letting him see that it hurt her.

“If I don’t string her along, she will string along Arthur. Arthur would fuck everything up.” He justified himself.

No man would tell his wife he has feelings for a secondary woman, but really, they weren’t a normal couple. Normal couples don’t marry because they agreed to split the money and fuck long enough to produce a child to inherit said money.

Tommy pulled her close, tight against him with his cheek pressed against hers. “Don't want anyone who isn’t you, Evie.”

Her little gasp could be interpreted as surprise for him doing that, not surprise that what he just said is a lie.

#eva smith shelby #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #oc fanfiction #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinder fanfic

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neoncrowpen · 3 years

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Hey Crow, can you write male reader as Tommy's son? not Charles, but maybe his older brother or an only child? Whatever works for you. We know that Tommy was more openly affectionate while Grace was alive, attentive too, but after she died (and I'm referring to his conversation with Charlie inside the wagon after Johnny Dogs took them to Wales) he shut himself off, and buries himself in his work, though he is still calm and warm towards Charlie in the scenes we've seen so far (+his bad health in S5.) That makes me think about reader wanting to spend more time with him especially after his marriage to Lizzie and the birth of Ruby; but then Tommy becomes a politician. Which brings me to this request - what do you think about reader breaking into Tommy's office in the House of Commons, hoping to get some of his attention but it backfires? Tommy yells at him instead and reader tries to explain himself but Tommy wouldn't hear it. I just really need some angry Tommy/dad Tommy content and I really enjoy your portrayal of him in my first two requests. I hope that this one is okay, too.

As you sped off in a good sprint, you thought of your uncle Finn. He had driven you into the city after you lied to him about ‘wanting to spend time with your favorite uncle’. Either you were taking on more of your stepmother’s traits or Finn was the dumbest Shelby in the family. It didn’t matter in the end. You got to exactly where you wanted to be.

You had been studying London city maps for a while and it paid off. Funny how maps worked and told anyone where everything was. It was a new concept that delighted you. Your father would be so proud that you got here all by yourself. Trouble was, how to get inside.

“I’m a Shelby,” you told yourself. “And I can do anything.” You eyed the alley to the side, noting a delivery man loading a cart with food and tea items. Bingo. You easily crawled underneath, stowing away. As your plan worked, a rush of excitement ran through you. The delivery man wheeled the cart inside without noticing his extra cargo. However, you only got as far as a storage room. You watched an aide load a different tea cart.

Dad took tea. He took tea often. It was a good, calculated risk, you thought. When the aide was turned around, you crawled into the second cart. You tucked yourself even further as the aide placed more tea cups underneath the cart. You kept your sigh of relief to yourself as the second cart started to roll down the hallway. You tugged back the thick, white tablecloth to read the office names. Williams. No. Baskins. No. Dick Johnson? You snickered, still no.

And there it was. Thomas Shelby, MP.

Yes.

The aide slowed the cart pass your father’s office. After making sure the coast was clear, you rolled yourself out. The lockpick kit you lifted from Finn earlier proved useful now. It wasn’t as easy as you thought it would be. At first, you had the tools all switched around. Then, a few people walked by, and you his yourself behind the second cart again. Frustration started to give you a decent headache until you heard a satisfying click.

“Just wait till Dad sees me,” you snuck inside, leaving the door wide open. “He’s going to be so surprised!” The office was much smaller than you thought. Your dad’s office back home was twice the size. Dusty books and boring colors didn’t capture your attention. The windows didn’t have any curtains to hide behind, so all gray daylight streamed into the room. No secret passageways or nonsense here. You scrambled underneath your father’s desk once you heard oncoming footsteps.

Ah, a perfect place to surprise him. This plan was your best yet. Everything was going so well! You couldn’t wait for your father to come in. He would be so proud of you and your cleverness. This definitely warranted a good reward. Ice cream? A tour of the building? It didn’t matter. All you really wanted was for your dad to tell you how clever you were and smile at you.

You couldn’t remember the last time he did smile at you.

A set of familiar footsteps stopped in the doorway. You heard the distinct sound of a gun clicking into place. It was subtle, but you knew the sound. Last month, your father taught you how to use a gun and why it wasn’t a toy. Your excitement couldn’t be contained much longer. You jumped out from underneath the desk with your hands raised.

“Papa! It’s me! Look! I made it all the way here!” you shouted. As your eyes adjusted to the daylight again, you were not greeted with your father’s smile. Instead, Thomas’ breath hitched, his grip tightened.

“What the hell, Y/N? You nearly fucking—what are you doing here?” Thomas berated you. His hand immediately closed the office door behind him. Your face started to fall.

“I was reading the map of London and I figured how to get here,” you gave him your proudest smile. “And now that I’m here, we can spend the whole day together! Isn’t it great?” You waited for your father to congratulate you. Thomas grabbed the scruff your shirt collar and forced you into one of his office chairs. You winced at his grip. He never grabbed you like that before.

“You’re supposed to be at school.” He sounded angrier than you thought he would be.

“Uncle Finn took me out. I tricked him! You’re right. He is the dumbest Shelby,” you laughed. When your father didn’t laugh with you, yours faded. His eyes glared down at you.

“And did you stop to think that this was a good idea?” His question cut into you. When you didn’t answer right away, he shook your chair, startling you. Why was he so angry? You made a good plan and you executed it perfectly.

“I just missed you,” you admitted. “I never see you anymore.” Hurt flashed in your father’s eyes. You watched him exhale a long breath except no cigarette smoke came out of his mouth. Thomas tucked the gun away. He walked towards his desk.

“I could’ve seriously hurt you. Guns are not a toy, remember?”

“I remember. But, you wouldn’t hurt me.” You mustered a different smile this time. It didn’t matter if your plan was clever or not. You could just settle with being here with him. Thomas dialed the phone on his desk. A new excitement made your heart beat faster. “Are you going to order tea for us?”

“No,” Thomas flatly told you. “You’re going back to school where you belong.”

“What? No,” you shook you head. You jumped out of the chair and rushed towards his side. Your hands grabbed his suit jacket. If you could just hold him really tight, like you did when you were younger, maybe he’ll understand. “I want to be here with you.”

Thomas pulled you off. “This isn’t the place for children.”

“But—

“Stop this right now, and listen to me.” You looked up. This was not your father. This was wrath. His tone felt like a knife sinking into your chest. “You may think this was a clever thing to do, but you’re wrong. This is, by far, the dumbest thing you have ever done. What if someone hurt you? Grabbed you? Would you like that? For a stranger to come and grab you and take you away?”

“No,” your voice broke. You bit your lip down hard. You heard someone knock at the door. An aide tucked their head inside.

“Afternoon, Oswald. If you could please wait with my son outside, his uncle will be by to take him back to school soon.” Thomas bent down to you. He gripped your wrist as if he was hurting you on purpose. “You will not do this again. You hear me?” You nodded. “Say you’re not going to do something stupid like this again.”

“I’m not going to do anything stupid ever again.” Your eyes more drawn to the floor than to the man in front of you. “I’m sorry, Papa.”

As the aide guided you out of Thomas’ office, you went over the plan in your head again. Every single thing you did was thought-out. Every move was deliberate. None of it worked. You glanced back at your father. He ran his hand down his face. The same frown you had gotten used to hardened on his face.

This was your fault. You resolved that he would never smile at you again.

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #imagine thomas shelby #son!reader #child!reader #male!reader #imagine request #fic request #thomas shelby gif #peaky blinders imagine #imagine peaky blinders #peaky blinders

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hb-writes · 3 years

Text

You’ve Always Been Naive

Summary: It’s 1925 in the Little Lady Blinder universe. After an epic row, Tommy allows Clara to stay more regularly on Watery Lane with a few conditions, one of which is a mid-week meeting at the Midland Hotel to check in.

Characters: Tommy Shelby & Clara (Shelby!Sister)

Content Warnings: canon-typical content, angst, (underage) drug use (requested by anon)

Tommy glanced up from his whiskey sour as his sister stepped up to the table, her face a deliberately neutral façade as she set a ledger down in front of him, a week's worth of academic work stuffed inside the front cover.

"Lizzie said you'll need that for tomorrow," Clara offered as she extracted the papers, placing them on top and pushing the pile towards him. "And here are the assignments you've asked for. If that's all, I have plans, so…"

Tommy watched her determination waver a bit as he raised a brow, her confidence retreating the longer she stood planted in front of him, the first she'd been directly in his presence for a little over a week.

A meeting at the Midland Hotel had been Tommy's idea. Clara had accepted the summons, accepted the hotel as a sort of neutral territory though it was in no way impartial. The hotel was Tommy's home more days than it wasn't, filled with a staff as loyal to his payment as the staff of Arrow House, loyal like the staff of the company, but the Midland's staff didn't know Clara Shelby as well as the others. They didn't have their claws in her, couldn't appeal to her on Tommy's behalf like the others did, like little Charlie did, or Ada, so when Tommy requested the midweek meeting as a condition of his allowing her to stay on the lane far more often than she did under his roof, Clara felt she had little option but to agree.

Tommy barely glanced at the things she'd set on the table, more interested in the fact that Clara hadn't yet found her seat, still standing across from him bundled in all the cloth that had protected her from the stinging wind and chill on the walk over, almost as if she was convinced the coat and scarf and gloves would protect her from him too.

"Take a seat."

"I already said I—"

"You're going to make a scene?"

Both of Tommy's eyebrows rose with the question, the words almost a dare, or perhaps better likened to a threat, and Clara glanced about the room only to determine that the Midland wasn't the proper place for a shouting match with her brother. Scheduling the meeting there was meant to keep the two of them in check, but Clara knew Tommy would show no hesitation in raising his voice back should she choose to make a go of it, settling her firmly in the place where he thought she belonged with a mere line or two.

Clara's cheeks warmed at the mere thought.

"That's what I thought." Tommy shifted, sitting up straighter in his chair, eyeing its empty match across the table. "Take a seat."

Clara remained in her spot, pulling her eyes from him as she forced her finger into the opening between her coat sleeve and glove to expose the delicate watch set on her wrist.

Lizzie's handwriting in her diary had marked her down to be at the Midland with Tommy from 6:00 to 7:00, but she's made herself quarter of an hour late by a bit of purposeful dawdling at the office followed by a bit of nervous pacing out front of the hotel that had left her with chilled toes and wind-chapped cheeks.

"I really can't see why I need to. You've seen I'm alive and well—" Clara gestured to the book and papers. "—You have the ledger, have proof I've been doing as I've been told, and I'm certain you've already gotten reports off of—"

"Take a seat."

Tommy finished his drink, the ice clattering against the glass as he set it on the table, all of the force that wasn't there in his voice focused into the gesture before he pulled the papers closer, thumbing through her work though he cared little to see the grades or completeness. He had little concern that Clara wouldn't hold up that end of the deal, her motivations in that arena extending beyond any guidelines he could set for her.

And anyway, Tommy already knew she'd been towing the line. He didn’t need the completed packet of school assignments to know she was following his rules. He didn’t need this encounter to know she was alright either, his curiosity on the matter fulfilled well enough through reports from Lizzie and Ada and Frances and Michael, his confidence bolstered by the lack of contact from the school. Even Finn’s first words to him in every meeting over the last week and a half had been about their sister.

People usually told him things, always had, seemed to give him what he needed in that respect without him having to ask after it, but Tommy didn’t always trust the word of the world. There were some things he preferred to see for himself, some questions he needed to hear the answer to while seeing the reaction on her face before she got the chance to put her clever words in the way.

Something about the power of the impending fourth request to take a seat, and the knowledge that it wouldn’t be as much of a request as it was an order coming from Tommy’s lips, helped Clara to lower herself into the chair across from her brother. She kept quiet while Tommy thumbed through her work, slipping the gloves from her hands and settling them on the table though she allowed herself to shed nothing more as she sat on the edge of the seat, her back straight, every muscle in her feeling taut and strained while she waited.

“You’ve been busy.”

Clara nodded. She had been busy, and she was quite certain her brother was at fault for that, accepting her being out from under his roof, but not out from under his thumb, ensuring she had more than enough to keep her busy, keeping her so occupied once she held up her end that all she wanted was her bed.

The worst part was Clara knew it. She knew this wasn’t really the freedom she was after, the distance she’d said she needed, but she couldn’t help herself when it came to meeting expectations. Clara was losing either way, but the fact that she kept trying bothered her brother, that she knew. That she’d rather adhere to his rule and work herself to death than live under his roof and play that game unsettled him.

People listened to Thomas Shelby for many reasons—because of his influence or his threats, because they hadn’t a choice. He imagined his siblings fell into the last category, left without much of a choice, but he’d always imagined the girls were a bit different. His brothers filed in line like the soldiers they were, but the girls weren’t soldiers. The girls had always seemed to be tied to him and his words in some other way, some sort of different understanding falling between the three of them, but with Clara especially. The understanding didn't seem to be there any longer though, replaced with the same soldiering that he'd seen with his brothers.

“I’ve been doing as I was told,” Clara offered.

“And what were you told?”

Clara huffed, settling back in the chair, her shoulders slumping at his question, something about him making her repeat it for him doing the work that his tone alone couldn’t.

Clara fixed her gaze out the windows in the front as the waiter approached the table.

"Anything for the young lady, Mr. Shelby?"

"Tea," he said, not pulling his eyes from his sister, her annoyance at the order he placed on her behalf clear in the twitch of her face though she stayed quiet until the man stepped away.

"I'm not staying, Tommy. I told you I have plans."

He tilted his watch face to check the time. “Not until seven.”

Clara seemed to accept that seeing as she didn’t fight him, settling a bit further into the chair, shifting her gaze out the window once again.

“So, back to doing as you’re told, then.”

Tommy raised his eyebrows, blinking at her long and slow though she’d met his gaze for only a short moment before turning her attention elsewhere, to watch people coming in through the front door.

“School assignments, exams, the company, Sunday dinners. Your meetings...and all of it’s up to par, Tommy. I’m—”

“And what about this?”

Clara stilled as he set the blue vial on the table, her pulse picking up as he left it there and sunk back into his own chair.

"Tommy!" she hissed, nearly reaching out her hand to knock it from the table, to remove it from such a clear view, but no one was watching them.

Tommy scoffed, leaning forward and closing the vial in his hand before pointing a finger at his sister. "I told you if there was any fucking nonsense, I'd bring you right back home."

"I am home," she answered. "Can't get more like home than Watery Lane."

Tommy's snort was so quiet Clara didn't even catch it and he nodded, leaning his chin on his hand as he sat back, his finger idly rubbing his jaw as he considered her. "You think you're clever."

"I am clever," Clara answered, unwinding the scarf from her neck, her eyes diverted as she focused on the meticulous folding of the fabric before she set the bundle on top of her gloves. "You've always said."

Tommy shook his head, the second snort almost leading to a smile before he cleared his throat, shifting his position again and rooting around for his cigarettes before he spoke.

"I'm not in the mood for it, Clara. You've been asking questions about things you have no business with and it stops now."

Tommy caught her eye roll as he lit the cigarette, couldn't miss it really, the way the gesture took over her whole expression, her whole body really, and he wondered whether she'd done it on purpose or if it was just a reflex.

Clara was inclined to do far more than roll her eyes at him, a whole queue of arguments settled at the leading edge of her tongue, every part of her except her lips prepared to fight him because everyone else was allowed a bit of snow for the simple fun of it, but Clara had a feeling voicing that argument wouldn't do well in the end. It would only serve to tell him what he somehow didn't yet know, that she hadn't simply asked her questions, that she'd also tried it for herself.

It had just been the one time, to quell some curiosity, a small indulgence, and even if it had helped her stay alert to get done what she'd needed to get done, Clara wasn't keen to try it again. Tommy had no need of knowing it, so she swallowed her arguments, swallowed her pride and distaste for the double standards that ruled her life.

"Fine, Thomas. I've heard you. You want me to stop asking questions. And Michael and Finn are loyal to you, not me. It's all understood, nothing for you to waste your precious time worrying over." She was sitting up straight in the chair once again, perched on the edge and eager to be out the door before the tea came. "Is there anything else?" she asked. "As I said, I do have other plans."

Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose, releasing an exhale before tapping the ash at the end of his cigarette into the tray between them and holding her gaze.

“You’ve never tried it, then?”

Clara opened her mouth and Tommy let out a hollow laugh before she could answer, the cigarette pointed in her direction once again.

“And don’t you fucking lie to me, Clara.”

His gaze was unblinking and Clara held onto it as long as she could manage, not even allowing herself to breathe for several moments as she stared back at him, a familiar strain falling between the two of them.

Clara allowed herself a small intake of breath, attempted to take in a little air before she'd find herself gasping for it, attempted to extend the standoff a bit longer, but her resolve crumbled with the exhale, Tommy's attack coming before she'd even finished the breath.

“You’re going back to Arrow—”

“No, I'm not. It was just the one—”

Tommy's laugh cut her off, set a silence between them as he took a drag off the cigarette. “If you believe that, you’re just being naive, always have—”

“Excuse me?”

“You're clever, but you’ve always been naive,” Tommy said. “And all you’ve done this evening is show me that that is still the case.” He cleared some ash into the tray.

“If the work’s too much, you cut out the fun with the boys. It’s something you kids don’t seem to understand.” He set his finger down into the pile, jabbing the folder of school assignments and the ledger with each word. “The business comes first.”

Clara scoffed, the force of it so gentle it was barely noticeable, and she glanced at her watch. “It’s five after,” she said, scooping her gloves and scarf into her arms as she stood, pushing her chair back in place.

Tommy nodded. “I want you at the house on Sunday…to see Charlie. We can finish this then."

"There’s nothing to finish," she answered, setting her gaze away from him as she wrapped the cloth around her neck and pulled her gloves from the table, fitting one hand inside. "See you Sunday."

Clara took a step away as she worked the other glove over her fingers and Tommy caught her elbow, his hold far more gentle than any of the words he'd tossed at her during their meeting, more gentle than his stares or the mock laughter.

A wetness grew in Clara's eyes and she stayed faced away from him for a moment as she tried to resolve the tears, swallowing hard, her arm going limp as Tommy's grip shifted, sliding down her arm to clasp her wrist.

Enough. That's what his hand on her wrist meant, a gesture Clara and Charlie used to ask for the end of any bit of play that had gone a bit too far, a signal that communicated when it was too much, a gesture Clara knew Tommy had been deliberate in choosing.

"Clara, I mean it. No more snow, alright? If something were to happen, I…"

His words sent a searing lump into her throat, that combined with the touch sending her mind down into a spiral of guilt and shame, and as much as Clara hated Tommy for his role in it, for having the power to do it, she hated herself just as well for succumbing to it, even more for ever stepping out of line to begin with, disappointed with herself and her choices even though everyone else did it.

Clara cursed her brother and his temperamental provision of care, the sparse deliverance of love, and his double standards, and then she’d cursed herself, cursed the expectations and rules she’d set on herself and everything about the relationship that existed between them. Clara pulled her hand loose, tugging her glove the rest of the way into place before she took a deep breath, her back still to her brother as she bid him farewell.

"I'll see you Sunday, Thomas."

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