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#I am by no means the be all and end all authority here
enchantressiren · 2 days
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❝𝐏𝐀𝐂: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥.❞
What will aftercare be like with your lover?
(For virgins and/or those who are having it with a virgin lover)
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Tips | Paid readings
This is a tarot card reading as 3 cards were used. I only used the lenormand deck for pile 2 and 3, while pile 1 had the normal deck.
Normal intuitive readings (@sefinaa)
Average word count: 1.1K
Author’s note
Signs were added.
Divider
Pile 1
Knight of Wands, the devil, and 2 of Wands.
Aftercare with your future lover or current lover is very beautiful. There is going to be a lot of playful energy and very soft kisses or soft touches with them. I can see them caressing your cheek after having sex because you feel stressed out or tired from the activity. You have this very drained energy, and I can feel it coursing through my body. I also get this sense that you just want lots of kisses or lots of cuddling, and I get the idea that they are actually going to do that for you at the end after they give you some back massages and then caress your lips because they are somewhat swollen after nibbling on them constantly. I see them using the palms of their hands to slowly massage in the essential oils, mainly lavender or mint, which is great for relaxation as they massage it onto your back and then downwards on your lower back, and they truly keep massaging it so you can feel more love from them, but also a sense of security. I see them caressing your bum and massaging it because you’re sore from there regardless of your gender, but I am feeling a lot of bottom energy here, so that comes into play. I can see them massaging your neck and your ears very delicately, like you are a fragile doll that they want to take care of constantly. I can then see them taking care of each of your toes as they completely massage them. This is like your spa, where you get to fully relax and enter a romantic atmosphere. I also see them kissing each part of your fingers and then your thighs, as a thank you for always being such a good lover for them.
After all of the massaging, I can feel this type of energy, like when people do their vows. They are going to give you a message of how thankful they are that you give them so much trust to take your virginity, but also that you also have a lot of trust with them to take care of you and the process, so I get the sense that you guys have a lot of dom spouses, lovers, or also friends with benefits (25%).
With the devil card, they will have playful energy with you, and they will also want to tease you for the mistakes that you made during it. Nothing of actually mocking you, but to make sure that you feel at ease. They will mainly tease you about how you squirted or how you moaned. I get a sense though that you guys feel slightly insecure about this, so make sure to set boundaries beforehand because you guys have a lot of playful lovers or roommates that are friends with benefits. I also see them chuckling as you were slightly drooling from all the sensation that you felt, and you guys are kind of dazed out. You also have a lack of understanding as to where you guys are, but understand that they do not mean it in a malicious way. They will ask you if you want extra kisses because you feel slightly tired, and you’re just going to let them without fully grasping what they meant, and when they do kiss you.. you will kick them away like it’s second nature, so I feel like you guys are also fighters, or for you guys, it's more like a flight or a fight response, and that’s where the teasing will happen. Yeah, so my intuition tells me that a lot of teasing will come with your actions since you guys are so dazed out and you guys don’t really match your usual personality, which is reserved and serious, but also sense of confidence and fast-forward? Fast forward, as in, you guys think fast and do things fast, but in this scenario, it’s much slower.
The cards that I got have a similar color scheme of red, yellow, and orange, but are very light, and I feel that this is also the aura of both of you as of now. And in that moment, the red would indicate the passion and love you guys put out in the energy that you showed forth and the energy that is in the air right now. That people can feel as your face is glowing as the both of you are so into this moment, despite you being dazed, but in a way there is a lot of—you can just tell a story has happened—lovemaking. For yellow, I hear my intuition tell me that’s the happiness that you guys feel, the safety that you guys feel, and the security that was set into this: the fact that you trust the person that you had sex with without a care in the world, the fact that you showed them how comfortable you are with them. There is a lot of trust included in this, and I keep hearing trust in my head many times, as this is the way to say that this person is very trustworthy (hahah). For orange though, it’s a playful nature that your lover shows their respect for you for the trust you gave them or the love that you showed them. You are very secretive, so you are picky with what you desire, and for you to trust them and give them your virginity makes them feel so fucking loved. You don’t even understand it. The love that I feel right now that is coursing through my body as I do your reading is so fucking gorgeous that I’m giggling, and I feel blushing like there is so much happiness inside, and that is what they will feel too.
I finished this reading at 1010. This angel number symbolizes spiritual awakening, loving yourself (showing appreciation), and having love in a relationship (the genuine ones). This fits your reading because the lover that you have and the one that you have chosen is genuinely a good person, but you are also picking someone that aligns with you as your higher self, and the path that is chosen for you also fits into the spiritual awakening. You have a sense of love and respect for yourself. That’s why I have this sense of understanding that you guys will actually set boundaries before hand, and when you do forget this reading and you do set those boundaries, it will appear to you. That’s why I feel that there’s also a huge feeling of trust, which is why I repeated it so many times, as it was like the only word that came to mind. I also get the sense that you guys actually enjoy the number 10, or that you keep seeing 1010, and this is your sign. The lover that you have in mind as you read this, is your future lover, and you already knew it because they kept giving you signs that they had feelings for you, so just go with the flow, and everything will come together in divide timing or for you, whatever fits right in the path choose.
Tips are always appreciated, thank you.
Pile 2
The bouquet, The whip, and The stork.
Right off the bat, why do you desire to have a toxic lover? Do you find it appealing because of the media? Do you like or feel as if you deserve pain because that is not the case. People are deserving of love despite their past, because if one person does not receive love, they get stuck in an addiction of negativity, and this is where you are at. This pile is sad, and the cards that I got weren’t good either. The energy overall is very gloomy, and the majority of you guys sabotage yourself for the fun of it or that in a way you can earn satisfaction because of the adrenaline. But this is not good. You can do as you please with your life, but I am someone who is honest, and I will not sugarcoat this pile, so let’s start.
The person you gave your virginity to was your ex or a toxic boyfriend. They are your current lovers. This is purely based on current lovers, so if this is not your pile, pick the other one that you were so drawn to.
This person will not give you aftercare. This person was very aggressive during sex, and you already know it will happen. You were planning on it since you liked the idea of dangerous fun. You already know that it affects your social life and makes you feel very depressed. Even if there’s aftercare, it’s just going to be a small peck on your lips, and they will just leave. You have this belief that abuse is flattering or that it’s sexy when it’s not. You also always thank them when they do the bare minimum. They gave you flowers, so you fawn over them, and they thrive on your flattery and love it. You feed into their narcissistic tendencies, and you know it does, and you keep doing it because it’s fun. You allow yourself to get stuck in a rabbit hole because it’s fun. Everything in the spot that you do is toxic fun, and this is not something you deserve. You keep telling yourself that you deserve it because you keep getting stuck in the same loop. You keep allowing bad people to come into your life because you can’t say no to them. You desire friendship and love, because being lonely is so hard for you. But being lonely is the process of finding people who are good to you and who deserve you. Your inner child is hurting so badly, but you just don’t care because you have given up. So take this reading as a sign to go back, leave the person, and find someone good for you.
With them, there are always arguments. You guys are always going to fight, no matter what you do, so do not go back to them to try to fix it. You cannot fix the person. You cannot fix people who do not want to be fixed, it is simply impossible because they must fix it. They are their own person; you are your own person, how the hell are you supposed to fix them? Fix yourself! There cannot be a spiritual awakening, or a change in your life that you keep seeking if you do not fix it. How can you find happiness in your life if you stay with the person who causes you so much stress and anxiety? How can you seek opportunities in your life if you do not end the cycle with a toxic person in your life? I do not care how attractive they are, I don’t care how rich they are. My love, if you do not end something bad in your life, how are you supposed to move forward in your life? The stork represents change and the end of the cycle, but even I cannot read your cards the way you desire if you cannot fix yourself. There are no ifs and buts. There are dos and don'ts. The goal is to leave the toxicity out of your life and to be happy. You wonder why you’re so stressed out, why you get so much acne, and why you’re eating so much food. This is why! You were looking for signs upon signs from the universe or whoever you believe in, but when you get the sign, you ignore it. This IS your sign, and I’m telling you that this is not for you. This is supposed to be a cute reading with aftercare by your lover—you will not get any aftercare. Do not give your virginity to them, they do not deserve it. You know who deserves it? Someone who’s going to give a shit about you. Someone who is going to love you so much and show you so much kindness—like a king or queen or princess or prince, whatever you desire—is who deserves your virginity.
You do not deserve someone who treats you like a fucking object, sweetheart. You do not deserve someone who steals from you. I know they steal from you, and you know it too. You think you deserve to be treated like a slut because you know that they sleep around with people that they tell you that they won’t. Some of you guys have such toxic lovers that they cheat on you for the thrill of it, and is this okay for you guys? No. This is not okay. This is not what people deserve. Even if you had a shitty past, and you did a lot of crap and you’re not part of it.. okay?? People change, they move on from their past, and they improve themselves as person, and I know for a fact you guys have as well. Some of you guys have really crappy pasts where you bullied other people, and you have so much guilt about yourself that you cannot forgive yourself, but the people that you bullied have. They have forgiven you, so why can’t you? You don’t deserve this crap. Find someone who treats you well and will accept your past. Some of you guys have cheated in the past, and you guys feel the same guilt as the people who have bullied.. okay?? So, forgive yourself, and then improve yourself as a person instead of sulking and letting this happen to you because this is not worth it. I feel so much anger for you guys, not because of what is happening but because of what you’re doing to yourself. Stand up for yourself for God's sake, and tell them you want to break up. When you break up, that is your change. Ask yourself if you want to change, and if you do, then do it. Why are you waiting? What do you gain from waiting? Nothing but more pain and misery, so go ahead and break up with their ass, because you don’t deserve that.
Signs: this pile, a red car, fermented grapes (wine), 6666, 998, 2:13 AM, 1116, sun, turnpike, orange (citrus), and toenail.
Tips are always appreciated. Thank you.
Pile 3
The house, the garden, and the book
This pile just had their first time in their family home while their family was downstairs or they were coming back home. There is such a sneaky vibe between the both of you, as in, you guys like to do things sexually in public. Not sex because this is your first time, but like touching each other in public like hickies. Sometimes you guys think that people can tell you guys are touching each other sexually, but no one can tell. You guys are like a mysterious book, and even as you read through the books, you cannot find anything. This is very secretive for you guys, but I also hear that it’s in a way sacred too. I’m getting the energy that you guys mainly wanted to have sex in the family home because you have overprotective parents that do not treat your lover with the respect that they deserve, so in a way, you’re mocking them or at least biting them back. But you feel very comfortable with your lover, so this is like your protection, as they are your armor. Also, see that the both of you are kind of laughing behind their backs, as in I told you so or that—I'm getting a flashback in your past of you either yelling to them about this or at least imagining that you were going to tell them that you were going to give your lover your virginity or that you were going to marry the “bastard.” Because at first this was supposed to piss them off, but you fell for your current or future lover.
So how is aftercare going to be for the both of you? I see them coming back to your room with a cup of milk, some cookies, and a sandwich. You guys enjoy food a lot, and you guys eat a lot of sweets, so for them, this is like a way to reciprocate their appreciation for you. However, my intuition tells me there is a symbol for the milk. When Santa comes, you give him milk and cookies as an expression of gratitude for the gifts. You are the gifts to your lover, as they are your Santa Claus, and in this way, you guys can do your own thank you. But I’m also hearing that sometimes milk can be very cold, but it also helps you grow. You see yourself as a cold person, and you try to do things to improve yourself, but it never goes your way because of your family, specifically one of your baby sisters. I get the energy that a majority of you guys are either the middle child or the oldest, hence the rebellious nature I felt earlier. You came to the realization that the person that you are with or that you will be with is your reason to grow, as they are such a sweetheart. Even though your family cannot see it since they have a really cold, resting face and personality. This reminds me of the troupe: I hate everyone, but you. Also, intuition tells me they do help you grow because they are so patient with you, and they want to see you smile and get out of your comfort zone without harming yourself in the process.
Coming back to aftercare, after they come back to you with cookies, milk, and the sandwich. They’re going to clean you up with a warm, fresh towel to clean the residue off your body and the passion you guys created. I see them starting off very slowly because your legs are very sensitive. And when they do clean, your legs will jolt a bit. And they don’t want to hurt you at all, so they will dab around the leg area and dab the sweat and semen that’s on your body. Then, when you feel a bit calmed down and you've finished your sandwich, they will ask you, “do you want me to wipe you off or do you want to do it instead?” And you’re going to feel flushed for some reason; maybe it’s due to the fact that you came to the realization that you were naked. I get the feeling that everyone in this pile is somewhat insecure about their bodies. Especially being naked, and coming to this conclusion after the sensation of being horny, leaving your body is a big deal. So you’re going to feel extremely uncomfortable, and they will notice it, so they will give you the towel and profusely apologize for making you uncomfortable until you explain the reasoning to them. They will understand it and then leave only for you to grab their hand and make you clean them while staring into their eyes, reassuring them that it’s ok—this is your key moment of healing. After they clean you up, the both of you are going to cuddle for the rest of the night, and then you will wake up in their arms with a bright smile because you did exactly what you wished for. Finally having sex with somebody who actually gives a shit about you for once, and this time they will not play you like a fiddlestick.
Signs: Santa, chocolate chip cookies, Oreos, orange cake, orange soda, cream soda, hugs, porn, embarrassment, 8, and 429
Tips are always appreciated. Thank you.
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amongemeraldclouds · 2 days
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Ruin The Friendship
A letter gets mailed to its intended recipient. A letter confessing your feelings. A letter you never meant to send.
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Lorenzo Berkshire x Reader
Warning: fluff, no use of y/n
Author’s note: My final entry for the Hogmarch challenge, prompt five. This was such a fun challenge, thanks for hosting @thatdammchickennugget ♡ 1k words.
✿ Masterlist
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“What letter? I didn’t have any mail to send, Daisy,” I ask our house elf as she updates me about the chores she’s done for the day.
“The letter beneath your bed. Daisy found it and to thank you kind miss for saving Daisy from your father’s fury yesterday, Daisy went the extra mile to send it,” she announces proudly.
“You mean,” I whisper, a sinking feeling growing in my chest, “the letter containing my deep and honest thoughts and feelings, about the boy I love, that I swore to myself I would never - and I mean never - send?” I exhale, feeling the edges of a panic attack creep in.
Daisy frowns. “Sorry miss, Daisy did not know. Daisy thought she was helping,” she apologizes, cowering in the corner.
“Stand up, Daisy. I’m not going to hit you,” I reassure her. “But I could hit myself so I don’t have to attend class tomorrow and face the mortifying events that are sure to follow.”
I jump up from my bed and nod, waving my wand. I could do that.
“Miss, please!” Daisy pleads. “Don’t hurt yourself. It’s Daisy’s fault,” she hisses. “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid Daisy!” She chides, punctuating each word by banging her head against my drawers.
“Stop, Daisy,” I reach out, touching her shoulder. "Fine” I sigh, “no one is hurting themselves.”
I am just going to have to go to school tomorrow and die from shame.
The letter
My sweet Enzo,  It’s ironic you admire me for my bravery for taking down our childhood bullies and for being one of the top students in our DADA class. Yet here I am in a moment of weakness, thinking of you. Actually, even when I feel strong, defeated, or happy, I still think of you. In an ideal world, I’d be brave enough to tell you face to face. But we live in an imperfect world where hearts can break and relationships end, far more often than anyone would like. So if it saves our friendship, I can and must lock my heart away. I wish I can tell you when or how it happened, but I myself don’t understand. All I know is that I’m hopelessly in love with you. There, I said it.
The aftermath
I peer into Enzo’s dorm, head snaking past the door.
Please, please, please, let it be vacant. Let it be vacant, I chant in my head.
I sigh when silence greets me and move the rest of my body inside, sagging against the door in relief.
What are the odds that Enzo has already read a letter that just arrived this morning? He’s probably at quidditch practice, which means I still have a shot at saving myself from utter mortification. And more importantly, to save our friendship.
I scan his room and hurry towards the table littered with books, dried ink splotches stain the oak wood. If the letter were anywhere, it would be somewhere he—
I yelp when a door opens and turn towards Enzo stepping out from the bathroom with damp hair clinging to his scalp, water dripping down his sculpted chest, running along his toned abs. All hail quidditch.
He clears his throat and I bite my treacherous tongue - the one that unconsciously moved across my lips. Salazar, if I don’t get my act together, I won’t even need some stupid letter to reveal my feelings.
My cheeks burn as I return my gaze to his amused expression. “What the hell are you doing here and why are you naked?” I accuse. That’s right, I’m just blushing because I’m angry.
He adjusts the towel across his hips and I turn away, shoving the image of his toned figure from my mind, trying not to imagine whatever else is beneath his towel. “First of all, not naked,” he states.
“And more importantly, you’re asking me what I am doing, taking a shower, here in my dorm?” he points to the floor for emphasis. I wince and kick myself internally.
“I thought you’d be at quidditch practice,” I try. “I just - I just lost something and thought it might be with you.”
“What is it? I can help you look,” he offers, moving towards me and I step back.
“Enz please, put some clothes on first!” I plead, reminding myself to breathe.
I stop midstep when I feel something cool and solid behind me and I realize I’ve backed into a wall. Why the hell is Enzo prowling towards me like I’m his prey?
I close my eyes when he stops just in front of me, heat radiating from his body. I will myself to disappear, to fuse with the wall, to—
“By any chance,” he starts, “the thing you’re looking for. Is it white and made of paper—”
No, no, no, no, I chant this time, my eyes opening to stare at him in horror.
He continues, “the one with your handwriting scrawled inside?”
All the words leave my mind.
He smirks, “it would be a shame if you lost it and wanted it back because I rather liked it.”
“Y-you do?” I whisper.
His smirk gives way to a warm smile. “Darling, you’re more courageous than I am and I still admire you for your bravery. You managed to write it. Here’s my response: I love you too.”
“Well technically, I never meant to send it. It was Daisy,” I try to explain.
“So I have Daisy to thank. I’ll bring her flowers next time,” he says, making a mental note before continuing. “I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time too, but I was also worried it could ruin our friendship if you didn't feel the same.”
“Now that we’ve established we feel the same…” I begin but trail off when he rests his arm on the wall above me and leans in. My breath hitches.
“I won’t need my clothes until much later,” he ends my sentence.
It’s not what I was going to say but the second I open my lips to protest, his mouth crashes into mine and nothing else matters.
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sheisjoeschateau · 3 days
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"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | Part IX (FULL)
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⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+
CHAPTER IX WARNINGS/NOTES: t.w.'s - language, innuendo / sexual undertones, mention of dr*gs and abuse and childhood trauma, Max in a coma, talks about death, difficult confrontations. 18+
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the 9th chapter, written in full. Not action packed, but vital to the plot. Lots of beautiful moments in here that I really took my time with writing because at this point, I am just so in love with this concept. We learn more about Bauman's past. Steve and Jonathan finally have that talk. Murray is a proud uncle. The kids are adorable. Steve's dream isn't only his. And everyone prepares for doomsday.
Bonus: If you love the song "This Little Life," well then you are in for a treat. It heavily inspired this chapter, and it will be back...
PROOFREAD UNTIL MY EYES BLED. IF THERE ARE STILL TYPOS, SORRY BOUT IT. 18+
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Steve Harrington was no stranger to nightmares.
He’d learned how to endure them.  Over the years, he made friends with his demons.  So much so, it got to a point where he got too used to having them around.  He just nodded at them as they lurked in the darkest corners of his sunshine mind, letting them exist as lonely, miserable wallflowers who were never noticed in the daylight when he was awake…waiting for their fleeting moment of popularity after dark, when his eyes were shut.  He didn’t address them when he was awake. Because if he addressed them, that would mean they were real. But if he let them have their way at night, forgetting them the next day and acting like they did not exist, that meant they had no power over him. They didn’t mean anything. They were nothing. 
They meant nothing.
At least, that’s what Steve told himself. 
Every night before shutting his eyes, he steels himself for whatever hell he was going to face. From the ripe age of four, he learned to simply expect the unexpected when it came to sleeping. Sleep was never going to be his friend — whether he was sleeping alone, or with a friend, or holding naked girl in his arms. Steve was made to suffer in his sleep. His subconscious was a world that was built upon a foundation ruled by the reality of absent parents, being an only child, high school flings that left him longing and the endless search for love. It consisted of repeated dialogues — sometimes the incessant arguing between his parents, or the jabbering of Tommy H. and Carol, or hearing Nancy chanting bullshit, along with all the other voices of people who filtered in and out of his life.  Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.  
Sometimes, Steve was running away from his own voice in his head. There were nights when, within his own nightmares, he himself was the nightmare. That really came into effect during his last year of high school and the summer after he lost Nancy. Adding the entire element of the upside down into his life only fed his nightmares. They were bad before, they were bad then, and they were worse now. 
Trauma after trauma, loss after loss, fight after fight, bloodshed upon bloodshed. 
Every punch to his eye. Every word slapped across his face. Every other worldly creature he was made to battle. Every moment he was paralyzed with fear of losing one of his kids. 
Nightmares loved Steve. And they knew exactly where to find him, every single night.
But right now, sleeping next to you, it wasn’t nighttime. It was still day. Daylight shown through the windows of your assigned guest room in the Harrington house — curtains drawn, and the gloomy afternoon sky filtering the space around you both.
And here he was, fast asleep with his cheek resting on top of your chest, as your heartbeat thumped against his ear. One of his toned arms was looped around your waist, having closed his eyes and letting the steady rise and fall of your chest lull him to sleep. Steve had been fighting sleep for the last two nights. Especially the night after you died in his arms. He had just barely brought you back to life, and he knew that as bad as his nightmares had been before…all of them amounted to nothing compared to the nightmares that would undoubtedly follow him after that. Steve wanted nothing to do with sleep. He was damned for all eternity when it came to sleep, and it was sure to bring him a life of insomnia after the real life nightmare that he was made to face when wide awake. 
That’s the beauty of being asleep: you have to wake up.
Steve told himself that every night before he went to bed. He told himself that no matter how bad it got, he would still wake up. And once he woke up, it would be over.
He learned to do that after he went to the county fair one year with his friends, back in middle school. He’d gotten on a ride, peer pressured by Tommy H. and not wanting to look like a chicken. 
Every second of the ride, Steve was petrified. 
He wanted off, he wanted off, goddammit let me off he shouted.  
Then he remembered having been told by the county fair worker that the ride lasted four minutes.  Steve took a deep breath, realizing he’d likely been on it for already half that time. So he counted to himself. Counting down the last half of the ride, he told himself over and over: eventually, this ride has an end.  
Sure enough, when it did finally come to an end — and when everyone was let off the hellish escapade — Steve realized that he had found the glitch in the matrix. The warp in time. The secret superpower to conquering fear. Suddenly, he wasn’t so afraid anymore. Which is why now, whatever nightmare he was made to face, he would endure it — knowing that the sweet relief of waking up was just right around the corner. 
And after all: stranger things had been proven real in Steve’s real life, far more than in his wildest dreams. 
Loving you had turned out to be the strangest thing of all.  
Even more so, the lack of nightmares that came with that was also strange…
Because right now, as Steve finally succumbed to sleep instead of fighting it, lying next to you…he was not trapped in a nightmare. His subconscious did not have him roaming the unpredictable pathways that led to the darkest corners of his mind. His demons had ceased their dance. Vecna, and all his other worldly monsters, were not the stars of this particular show. Steve was not trapped in the midst of jabbering chants coming from the voices of all the people that he loved, all the people who had betrayed him, or even the voice belonging to himself. 
For the first time in years, Steve Harrington was dreaming.
It wasn’t anything drastic. Nothing that could exhaust him, to where any hours of sleep hadn’t felt like any sort of sleep at all. In fact, his subconscious state was…serene. Quiet, peaceful. It was almost unsettling in a way. 
Little bursts of yellow — pastel and sunshine and lemon — colored the dark walls inside his mind. A light breeze gently wooshed in the distance, coming seemingly from nowhere but still fanning his face and the flop of his perfect hair. Somewhere, someone was humming. Almost like a bird, or the sound of a foghorn super far off in the distance. Maybe even the distant drums of a far away land. The rhythm came and went, but it kept him company. As if it were some little song made up in his head as he went along, saying, “Hey, I’m right here. We are in this together.”
On the other side of Steve’s closed eyelids, you laid beneath him in his yellow crewneck. The air you breathed softly, in and out of your nose, fanned across his forehead and his perfect hair. And while your heartbeat was not even, it was there — beneath his ear, drumming in a makeshift pattern, inventing its own rhythm as it went. 
In the real world, your uneven heartbeat reminded you both that you yourself were not in the clear. Not yet. 
But currently, in this new world that Steve’s subconscious had just discovered, it reminded him that he was no longer alone. Not with you.
In the real world, Hawkins is in trouble. Cursed. 
And while none of you had figured out how to break that curse just yet, along with Vecna’s…one curse had been broken.  
You’d broken the curse to Steve’s endless nightmares.
But would this world even allow for you both to explore a future together, in which you had broken this dark spell cast over Steve Harrington’s life…?
***
Seeing Nancy shuffling out of Argyle’s room is the last thing Jonathan ever could have expected. And he’d seen a lot of shit that prepared him for the unexpected.
The perplexed look in her eyes. The determination in her step to get the hell out of there, despite clearly having been given some sort of useful information after sharing God-knows-what conversation with his Cali best friend. 
The two lovers at war made eye contact. It was quick, fleeting. But tense.  
Eddie and Robin watched as Jonathan turned to stare at Nancy over his shoulder, and how she froze for a moment to stare back at him through her glassy, wide blue eyes. Her gaze, fixed on him, went from longing to hardened. Nancy walked away, and Jonathan letting her without a word only motivated her to keep walking.
And now, Jonathan had been in Argyle’s room for a good long while. Eddie and Robin had left behind their own little comforting conference of sorts to join the adults downstairs, while the kids had set off in other directions of the Harrington house. 
But before that, during all the upstairs drama, Joyce and Murray had been having some drama of their own in the basement.
“You did what?!”
By now, Murray had recounted every single part of his story and how he’d played a huge role — along with you — in how her son had ended up with Nancy Wheeler. Murray’s once upon a time had rendered her speechless. 
Even Hopper — who’d heard them go downstairs and immediately followed when he heard Joyce start rocking the boat as she pressed Murray for information — now stood there beside Joyce, having just listened to everything – stunned.
Because when in the world did you all have time to fall in love, fall out of love then fall back in love / new love like this? How the fuck were you all managing that on top of the upside down mayhem?
“May I remind you both how you two lovebirds have spent the last few years developing your own slowburn of a story arc?” 
Murray’s question was dripping in condescension. But it was valid. It also came from the heart. He loved these two humans to death. And they loved him back.
While Joyce felt an enormous amount of joy that her son had ended up with the girl he loved…her heart ached for Steve. She’d grown to love him like her own over the years, especially these last several months as she lived under his roof. She had no idea just how broken up he’d been about Nancy. Joyce couldn’t help but feel…almost guilty.
But Hopper was shaking his head with a sort of proud grin, noting how as much as Murray had been the one to rock the boat — you had been its captain at the wheel. He pointed out how you had steered that wheel without even trying. 
“Were they even friends in high school?” Hopper asked curiously. “Harrington and Bauman — I can’t see your niece even having time for him back then when he was a punk.”
Murray went on to proudly confirm that assessment, along with explaining how you’d simply participated in your Uncle Murray’s meddling because you happened to be there that night and it’s just a sort of family tradition that you both had formed over the years. And when Joyce asked him how someone like you had not been swept up already by some guy, Murray had scoffed. He looked bitter — in the way that a protective parent is on behalf of their own kid.
“My niece deserves the world. Not one stupid guy at that high school could give her a mere city, let alone a globe’s worth. Doesn’t mean she didn’t…try. I know she was into one guy for a good while at one point. Some friend she’d made with one of the athletes who shared A.P. classes with her. She helped him study. Something she never did, unless it was with the girls and guys from her class that had weekly study group nights. But this kid she liked…he was smart, and he liked her back. She more than liked him…and he let her. Then, as all the petty high school boys do, he ditched her and all her efforts and hours spent studying and helping him pass his classes with flying colors…for a bimbo. A blonde, hip shaking, Pom-pom waving babydoll who’s all body, no brains.”
Joyce frowned. “Bauman is beautiful. She’s body, beauty and brains.”
“Yeah well,” Hopper mumbled, shaking his head disdainfully. “In high school, if you’ve got a dick, we’re letting it do the talking for us.”
“Point is,” Murray continued. “It hurt her. Big time.  But that’s the thing about my niece. Given our Bauman blood, we don’t easily succumb to our sentimental feelings. We just let it broaden our dark comedic chops and cynical worldview. My niece doesn’t have mommy or daddy to run home to and cry. She’s an only child, so no siblings to help care for and bond with. Yeah, she’s got friends. But mainly at school. She’s got herself…and she’s got me.” Murray smiled at that. “Between me and her grandmother, we’ve been the ones that raise her. But to be perfectly honest, my niece pretty much raised herself.”
Hopper’s heart clenched. For both you and your uncle. 
“She’s great, Mur,” Hopper murmured. “You’ve been there for her and it shows.”
Murray was quiet at that. He hated compliments. But he didn’t flinch or get snippy. He actually looked humbled, silently appreciating this observation. 
Joyce sighed. “Murray…you really have been an incredible uncle to her. I know that I’ve…given you a hard time about things, but…really. You’ve never missed with her.”
Murray was still quiet. He looked everywhere but at his two best friends for several beats. Finally, he gave a curt nod. But it was grateful, and full of love. Mainly for you.
“That’s my kid.”
Murray’s voice cracked a bit. It was the most unusual sound in the barren basement of the Harrington house, bouncing off the walls despite its soft decimal in volume. The tight lipped grin on his face as he finally made eye contact with Joyce and Hopper said it all. He loved the shit outta you, like any good parent loves their kid.
“I didn’t get the white picket fence life. Or a lifelong love story with some gal. I got dealt a crazy family of addicts and narcissists and loons. Had a brother who married a gal from rehab, got her pregnant while they relapsed and went forward with having a kid that didn’t stand a damn chance at surviving it.” 
Murray pursed his lips before he continued. “That’s the first goddamn miracle I’ve ever witnessed. That little fetus somehow made it, all of 5 pounds at 9 ounces. Ready to get the fuck out of the womb and live. It made for an early arrival and the risk of being premature, on top of being a crack baby.”
Murray’s eyes shone with a certain kind of fondness. It held both sadness and joy. And his voice was the gentlest it had ever been as he spoke about you.
“She didn’t have one thing wrong with her. Not one thing. Perfect lungs. Perfect heart. Perfect brain activity. Not cursed from the drugs that coursed through her mother’s veins and doomed her life from the start. That kid’s been outsmarting everyone in her life since she was a seed.” 
Joyce and Hopper couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Their eyes shone with Murray’s, having been parents themselves and unable to fathom being so reckless when bringing life into this world.
“I didn’t get my own kid,” Murray continued. He looked at Hopper. “I didn’t get a Sarah.” Then to Joyce, “Or a Jonathan, or Will. A kid who’s my own flesh and blood that I’d fight for to the bitter end.”
Murray stood there, resolute in what he was getting at. “But I got her. I got a niece who loves me. After she was born, I got my dad’s mom to take her in while I traveled and worked. She’s the only family member I’ve bothered keeping in touch with.  She’s an odd one.  But she had a home and money and willingness to take in a stray.  She never thought she’d ever get a granddaughter.  Don’t even think she really wanted one much till she was handed one to take in. Between the two of us, we raised her. She got thrown at whoever would take her and that was fine with me. Meant she still had a damn shot at a life. That’s what we gave her. The rest? She’s done herself.”
Murray sniffed. Then, smirking at himself — 
“I’d like to think my being an unorthodox parental figure of sorts is why she’s built for the war.”
Hopper grinned at that, swallowing back tears of his own. He squeezed Murray’s shoulder. “Yeah, she is. Kid could survive the damn streets of New York on her own.”
Murray laughed at that, and so did Joyce — she finally shook her head and wiped away a couple motherly tears. She took a deep breath, looking up and shifting gears with the topic.
“You know,” she started. “Call me a hopeless romantic… But I’m pretty sure that Steve Harrington has hopelessly fallen for your niece.”
Hopper snorted. “God, I haven’t ever liked the idea of two youngins together the way I like them.”
Murray grinned big. “Yeah that’s a plot twist even I wasn’t expecting.”  
The cynical gent’s expression suddenly went from warm to grave.  “…don’t ever repeat that.”
The adults all shared a heart laugh at that, making their own comments on how the two mortal enemies turned out to be lovers. Hopper cringed at the word, along with Murray — and Joyce gave your uncle hell for that, given he’s the self-acclaimed mastermind at love. 
“My witch doctor hours are limited when it comes to my niece’s love life,” he argued, but it was all with humor and fondness. “I already orchestrated the basics.”
“Which were…?”
“Calling her out.”
Joyce smiled. “What do you think of them?”
Murray’s expression softened. He contemplated that for several sincere moments. 
“Surprises me to say it…but I think she’s got someone who loves her fully. Will love her fully. There’s actual years there, backing them up. Years of real life shit. Abnormal shit. Valid tension, deeply rooted hatred that turned out to be love. She saw Harrington for who he was, and sees him for who he is. I mean — Jesus, she was there for all of it. Steve Harrington’s redemption arc was witnessed by her just as much as those kids that he’s taken on as a babysitter. Well, and the Robin girl. But that’s…not the same thing as what he’s got with my niece.  No threat there.”
Hopper’s eyes narrowed at that, curious. But Joyce gave Murray an all-knowing grin, knowing what he was getting at.
“I don’t think she’s on the same field,” she winked.
Murray winked back. “Exactly.”
Hopper blinked. “…alright, you guys lost me.”
Joyce waved him off, continuing. “So you like him with her. Maybe even…approve?”
Murray slowly nodded. “Didn’t think there’d be a guy who stood a chance at that. But given the whole…letting us all stay here and saving her life thing…yeah. I’d say I’m very good with those two being together.”
Joyce nudged him with her elbow. “Maybe you should tell him that. Y’know…given you’re at fault for ‘ruining his life,’ too.”
Murray rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, those two never stood a chance with your broody son standing in the way of that.”
“Yeah well…that broody son of mine isn’t making much sense right now,” Joyce shook her head. She sighed, worried. Hopper stroked her back. “I need to talk to him.”
“Lover’s quarrel,” Murray pointed out. “Best let that be up to him and Wheeler.”
“Yeahhh, well,” Hopper sighed. “Emotions are high right now. Maybe a little adult intervention would be good for them.”
Murray patted them both on the shoulders, back to his usual self. “WELP! You two have a large time with that. Meanwhile, I’ve got a date with a second drink calling my name.”
***
You watched Steve sleep on top of your chest, thinking about the words he’d spoken to you before dozing off. 
“What about France? Or Switzerland, somewhere with a bunch of acres and nature and a lake nearby or something?”
You’d smiled at Steve’s question. “How would we get the Winnebago over there?”
He’d stared at you for a moment, eyes sparkling as your words landed. A deep grin formed on his face. 
“You really liked my little dream on wheels, huh?”
You grinned back. “Yeah. It’s not little. It’s big.”
He shrugged sweetly. “I mean, it’s not a mansion. Or a house. It’s a home on wheels. Honestly, a really small home on wheels, but…I dunno, I just — wanna travel. With my family. Not leave them behind at some big house while I go off and explore god knows where without ‘em.”
You played with his fingers, listening to his every word. He wasn’t used to this. Having someone who was happy to just…listen to him ramble. Was he even one to ramble at all? Or is that something you just brought out in him?
“I just dream of this…this little life of sorts,” he continued, speaking to you and also to himself. 
You smiled at his words. “I think I like this little life.”
Steve could sing at your response. Something about that one sentence after he’d just further divulged into what a bright future looked like in his mind made him feel on top of the world. The lovesick joy in his eyes, and in his heart, made you melt.
 “I only want that little life with you,” he whispered to you, cupping your neck as he bent down to press his forehead to yours. You loved when he did that. Too much, way too much.
You nuzzled your nose to his. Steve loved when you did that. Too much, way too much.
“And the nuggets,” you whispered back with the cutest grin. Then, daring to say it — “Our nuggets…”
Steve’s heart soared at that.  Ours…
The happy little laugh Steve breathed against you was the prettiest sound in the entire fucking universe. He caught your lips in a kiss, sweet and soft and firm.
“Your heart needs to get its shit together,” he breathed before kissing you again.
“I know, I know,” you breathed back with that playful attitude he had come to love, gliding your lips against his. “Such a pain in the ass. I know you wanna rail me, Harrington.”
He deepened the kissing, his fingers sliding up from your neck into your hair. “Yeah, god forbid I actually just want you to be okay. I only wanna fuck you senseless.”
You sighed into his mouth, clutching his hips with one of your hands and a fistful of his shirt with the other. “Yeah, you dirty, filthy asshole…”
He sucked on your tongue, cutting you off. “Be nice, princess.”
The two of you had eventually pulled back, knowing that you needed to wait on Dr. Owen’s to bring you whatever goddamn medicine was supposed to help even out your heart arrhythmia. Steve had moved in your arms to rest his head over your heart, cheek pressed to your chest with your heartbeat in his eardrum. You could feel him shaking. So, you made up a little tune as you felt fatigue taking over you.
“I think I like this little life…
This little life…
I think I like this little life…
This silly little life.”
You could tell it made Steve smile as he held you closer. He murmured something sweet to you about liking the improvised melody, to which you murmured something back about it becoming a hit one day. Steve let your soft spoken singing play in his mind, giving him the sweetest of dreams as your voice trailed off.
And now, you were awake — humming it again. Steve was still fast asleep on your chest, which brought you tremendous relief. You dared to think it might be the only medicine your heart really needed. 
There was a soft knock at the door. You craned your neck towards the source of the sound, curious. Steve didn’t move a bit. He was out. It made you grin. You sighed lightly, planting a soft kiss on top of Steve’s perfect hair. Slowly, gently — you found a way of standing up without waking him. Little did you know, the sleep he found in your arms couldn’t be bothered easily. He slept harder with you than he ever had in his life.
You padded over quietly to the door, opening it slowly and only enough to show you. Your uneven heart was flooded with warmth as you stared back at 5 familiar faces.
Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will and Eleven all stood there. They held random things. Board games, snacks, and pillows with blankets.
“We are inviting ourselves for a sleepover,” El said.
“A very unexciting one,” Lucas clarified.
“Yes, no excitement,” Dustin agreed.
“Just some good ole fashioned card games that don’t hit pique anxiety,” Mike added.
“Annnnd drawing,” Will threw in, lifting his bag. “Art is always therapeutic.  Good for the soul.  And the heart.”
You felt yourself getting teared up, looking at their faces with pure love and joy. You chuckled wetly, your chest clenching as you so sorely wished that the sixth nugget was awake to add her sarcasm and unwavering love to the mix.
“Plus it really sucks about the mandate coming soon,” Lucas added sadly.
“Yeah,” Mike nodded. “Before we know it, we’ll all be cramped downstairs in the basement or out there in the middle of nowhere.”
You gave them a sad smile.
“A not-exciting sleepover sounds like a grand plan,” you nodded with a wink. Then, cocking an eyebrow, “So I’m hosting then, huh?”
“Yeah, your room’s bigger than ours,” Dustin said.
“True,” you winked. “Orrrr, we could go over to Max’s room and have her join us?”
All of them nodded excitedly. You smiled, turning back to look at Steve sleeping peacefully in the bed. 
“Gimme a few minutes to wake up mom and tell him that Max needs some attending to first, so that we can successfully host a sleepover in her room.”
They all quietly cheered, carefully moving to set down their array of stuff inside of your room. They caught sight of Steve sleeping, snickering to themselves like they were all 8 years old again. You shook your head at them with the biggest grin on your face, adoring how Lucas and Dustin were just so tickled with Steve being in your room. Will and El were giggling into their palms, with Mike shushing them but snorting himself. That made everyone fight back even worse laughter, and you ushered them out quickly before closing the door behind you. Man, you loved these kids so much.
You went into the bathroom, freshening up a bit and turning on the shower to let some hot steam hit your aching shoulder for a bit.
he sound of Steve murmuring your name made you hold off on that. 
You walked out, beaming at him as he stared in your direction while sitting up. You were back in his arms in seconds, mumbling into his neck.
“Hey, sleepyhead.”
“Jesus, how long was I out?”
“A good chunk of hours.”
Steve groaned, pulling you impossibly closer to him — still mindful of your bad shoulder. You giggled in his grasp. His ears perked up, craning his head up towards the bathroom door as he heard the stream of water running.
“How dare you think of showering without me?” he scoffs incredulously in your arms.
You continued giggling harder as Steve nuzzled his face into your neck, pretending to attack you as he smothered you with groggy affection. 
“Just needed to relieve my handicap a bit,” you sighed contentedly.
With that, Steve rose to stand. He was scooping you up into his arms before you could blink, carrying you into the bathroom. He lifted your shirt off, then his. As you stripped your pants, be took the hair tie from your wrist and ran his fingers through your locks, tying it up with ease. With a kiss pressed to your neck, he took your hand and escorted you into the hot stream of water. You watched Steve wistfully as he shed his pants and joined you.
As Steve gingerly massaged the soap into your shoulder blade, you remembered you needed to tell him about the plans that had been made for you both that evening.
“Baby?”
He hummed in response, loving when you called him that.
“The kids have the evening cut out for us tonight,” you started.
Even with your back to him, you knew his eyebrows were raised. “Oh yeah? What, am I making some crazy dinner feast out of canned goods now?”
You sniffed a laugh, turning to kiss his jaw. “No, we’re on for a sleepover in Max’s room.”
“S’that so?” he mulled, a grin in his voice.
“‘Tis so. That, or in here. But I don’t know if we can move her. Plus, I really want her to hear us all talking as much as possible.”
He exhaled, a kiss pressed to your shoulder. “Alright well, I’ll need to go ahead and get her taken care of before we all take over the room.”
“Sounds good,” you sighed contentedly.
You both finished up, and as you got changed into fresh comfy clothes Steve was eyeing the pile of stuff that the kids had unloaded into your bedroom.
“Damn, they just decided to dump the haul here?” he asked.
You snorted. “Yeahhh, they like to make themselves at home here.”
Steve rolled his eyes, but the fondness behind them said it all. He loved it.  
Noticing you struggle with your shirt, he quickly moved to help you pull it over your bad shoulder carefully. 
“Need to get better at asking for help, angel,” he winked at you, pulling your arm carefully through the sleeve. 
You blushed at that, playfully rolling your eyes. “Noted.”
Steve shook his head as he made sure that your shirt was straight, lost in thought for a moment. “Guess we all won’t be able to hang out up here soon,” he murmured.  “Outside of the basement.”
Your heart sank, knowing he was referring to the impending doom that loomed around the corner with the whole mandate going into effect next week. “Yeah,” you mused. “Might as well make the most of tonight with them before we have to go back to doomsday mode.”
He nodded sadly, planting a kiss to your hair before grabbing your discarded clothes along with his to start a fresh load of laundry. 
“I’m gonna go start a load,” he said. “Check with Hopper on when Dr. Owen’s is getting back here with your meds.”
You sighed. “Yeah, those…”
Steve looked at you solemnly. “Hey.”
You gnawed at your lip, looking up at him.
“You will be okay,” he told you. His tone was firm yet soft. Confident, despite the worried undertone laced around his voice.
You gave him a light smile and nod. 
“I’m serious, Bauman,” Steve continued, his brown eyes boring into yours. “We’re getting you on these meds and if they don’t work, then we…do the next thing that does.”
You knew he was stressed. Too stressed. You hated seeing just how fearful he’d been when he lost you before, and how much the fear of losing you again was eating away at him. Of course, Steve being Steve, he now insisted it would be fine. He’d broken down in front of you when it all happened, unable to stop it. Normally, he’d never let that happen. But given the dark reality of things, and just how much everything else had caught up to him, he wasn’t able to be his usual positive, nonchalant self with you over the last 24 hours.
With a mischievous look in your eye, you patted your chest. You gave it a little knocking rhythm, beatboxing under your breath so that he’d laugh. After a moment of Steve glaring at you, the corner of his lips finally twitched up into a grin. He tried to hide it, but you’d already seen it before he could turn away.
“Don’t worry, Harrington,” you told him. “I’m not even close to being done bothering you.”
He turned to look back at you longingly, a smile ghosting behind the way he bit his lip. He nodded. 
“Don’t think that ever really had an expiration date, did it?” he asks, teasing you in his husky voice that you loved whenever he was getting coy with you.
You smirked. “Never.”
He took a moment to soak you in with his eyes. “Good,” he said.  “I’m keeping it that way.”
You knew what he meant. Don’t you dare fucking leave me again. 
And you had every intention of keeping your word. I’m here as long as you’ll have me.
Steve intended to keep you forever.
“Now,” you said, moving towards him. “Let’s go have a big ole sleepover with these six nuggets so that we can stop the end of the world and have another six later on down the road, yeah?”
Steve glowed. He stuttered a bit, unable to breathe. “Y-you really want that? S-six of ‘em…?”
You shook your head, smiling up at him as you stood toe to toe. “Hell yeah, I want that.”
You kissed his jaw. Then, moving to scoop up a bag of the kids snacks — “That’s more buckets of Halloween candy for us down the line.”
Steve smiled and blushed unabashedly, shaking his head with the happiest eye roll you’d ever seen. 
“So we’re gonna be that family, huh?” he asked, moving to grab a sour gummy from the bag you’d just opened.
“We will win every costume contest, Harrington,” you said seriously, that signature dry humor of yours coursing through your Bauman blood at full speed. “I’m very competitive. Don't worry, the kids will be too busy having a great time to know that their mom is secretly a little psycho.”
Steve tugged at the gummy worm between his teeth with the most mischievous, flirty glint in his eye. You could smell his perfect skin mixed with the scent of the raspberry candy.  “Ahh, so you are mom. Thought I was mom.”
You leaned up on your toes, inching your lips towards his where he still dangled the gummy worm. “In this era? You’re mom. I’m dad. Next one, I’ll be Mommy.”
You bit at the end of the gummy worm, going full lady and the tramp with it like a loose spaghetti noodle. Steve’s lips and teeth stretched into a wide grin, eyes swimming in sex and lust as they looked down at you. You both bit and sucked the gummy worm till your teeth and tongues met. In the lowest, sexiest of husky tones, Steve told you…
“Well in this one? I’m daddy.” 
His tongue lapped your mouth, tasting like sugar sweet candy. “Your daddy.”
Before you could completely dissolve into a hot mess of a puddle, familiar voices from the other side of the door sounded off.
“EEEEWWWWWWW!!!!!!”
“STEEEEEEVE!”
“Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god —”
The sound of all your kids gagging and losing their shit were making for an orchestra of triggered teens, and you both jumped at the noise. After gasping, Steve threw his head back and huffed incredulously.
“Seriously??” he snapped. 
You buried your face in your hands, unable to keep yourself from laughing in pure humiliation — but also in adoration.
“You shitheads are listening in, seriously — Jesus.” 
Steve huffed and puffed, but it was clear as day he loved it. You did, too. He moved to open it while you stood back, snickering into your palms with flaming hot flushed cheeks.
“Hello,” he said, voice flat.
“You’re disgusting,” Dustin scoffed.
“And you’re an eavesdropping ass hat.”
“Why do you smell like gummy worms?” Mike asked suspiciously.
“Because you left them in my room, Wheeler,” Steve said wryly.
“Yeah, for tonight!!! For all of us!” Lucas scolded.
“Well Sinclair? Maybe don’t leave your candy unattended in my room.”
“It’s Bauman’s room!” Mike said.
Steve opened his mouth, then shut it. “Right yeah, well. My house, but yeah.”
“Lord, I can’t unhear this,” Will grimaced, but even he was grinning.
“You weren’t supposed to hear it at all,” Steve pointed out defensively.
“If you’re gonna fuck around, you’re gonna find out.”
Eddie’s sing-songy voice was new to the mix as he walked past them all, carrying a bunch of things as he made his way downstairs. “Howdy folks, don’t mind me.”
Steve snapped his fingers, pointing at him as he looked back at his kids. “That. What he said.”
El looked at everyone curiously.  “What does being daddy mean if Steve is that for Bauman —”
Everyone cut her off with sounds of disdain.
“Noooope! Nope, nope nope nope.”
“Nothing, absolutely nothing.”
“La la la la la la la la not talking about this la la la la.”
“Alright, enough,” Mama Steve silenced the kiddos. “Move along.”
“No, we’ve been waiting for 30 minutes,” Mike griped.
“It’s okay,” came your voice as you emerged from the room, standing next to Steve. “Why don’t you kids come on inside while Steve gets Max’s room ready?”
They all took you up on that offer, shuffling past you both and making their way inside. Steve shook his head as you grinned, pinching his side.
“Don’t worry, they’ll be grown up and outta the house before you know it.”
You winked at him before making your way into the room with them. Steve watched you fondly, hands on his hips in true Mom Steve Harrington fashion. He had that signature sexy-sassy look on his face that everyone had come to love over the years — you especially. Despite being annoyed, Steve felt his heart fill to the brim as he watched the kids scatter the bags of candy and show you the card game selections. You were hugging El closely while Dustin pointed out that he had plenty more candy hidden in his backpack. Will was telling you about his newest art collection ideas, and you excitedly listened to him while Mike and Lucas bickered about which games were better for everyone.
“Steve, you’re joining us, right?” Dustin asked.
Steve scrunched his face in confusion, doubling back with his shoulders. “Yeah, wasn’t that already happening?”
Dustin shrugged. “Just making sure you’re not gonna be lame.”
Steve shook his head. You looked over at him as you smiled.
“F’course he’s joining,” you winked. “It’s not a party without mom.”
Steve narrowed his eyes at you playfully, making your shoulders shake with a chuckle. 
He felt more at home in his own house than he ever had in 19 years. 
__________________________
Jonathan watched Steve make his way into Max’s room, knee bouncing.
He was seated in the living room, next to Joyce. She’d cornered him earlier, after watching Nancy move to sit on the porch alone and stare at nothing as she sat on the steps. Robin had moved to join her eventually, giving her company and offering to lend an ear.
That sprang Joyce into action, and she found Jonathan standing outside of Argyle’s room with Will. She’d found them both talking, happy to see her boys were in deep conversation and bonding. She could tell they’d been doing that for a little while now, and when they both looked up at her the three Byers all shared warm, solemn smiles. The boys looked a bit sheepish. Mostly the oldest.
Jonathan knew his mom wasn’t gonna let him off the hook. And if he was being honest, a good honest talk with his mother about something not having to do with the upside down was something he’d needed for a long time.
So they talked. Joyce listened while Jonathan spoke, and he listened while she responded. It was the perfect blend of expressed empathy, disappointment and motherly advice shared on her end. He admitted to the fight with Steve in the alleyway, back when Will was missing. And he admitted to making a move on Nancy while she was still in a relationship with Steve. She brought up Murray telling her about him getting drunk at the Henderson’s house, 2 years back…and he shamefully ducked his head as he wrung his hands. But Joyce just rubbed his back, reminding him she wasn’t here to berate him and only to talk through things the way they always have: as mother and son.
“You know, Jonathan…” Joyce spoke softly, her heart heavy. “I don’t think I ever really thanked you for everything that you did in helping me find Will.”
Jonathan did a double take, brow furrowed. “What’re you talking about, of course you did —”
“No,” Joyce shook her head. “No, we talked about it, sure. I verbally thanked you.”
“Many times, mom,” Jonathan assured her.
“Just listen,” she cut him off gently, clutching his hand. “I lost a son…but you’d lost a brother. We both lost him. Twice. God, twice… and each time was a brand new hell. We didn’t even have time to process the first round.”
Jonathan chuckled darkly. “Would we ever have processed that? I mean really…”
Joyce grinned at that. “Psh, yeah. Doubt it.” Looking back at him with a softened expression, she continued. “Point is…in the midst of all that stress, and searching, and worrying…you were still going through so much. Not just with Will missing…but everything else, too.”
Jonathan listened to his mother as she looked deeply into his eyes, clutching both his hands. She went on to tell her eldest son every validating thing a mother could tell her child. She recounted every single thing that Jonathan had been dealing with outside of Will going missing, and it hurt her to relive it all just as much as it hurt Jonathan to hear it all over again. When Joyce got to the part where she’d had to make them all move, Jonathan’s eyes watered up. 
“You and Nancy were just beginning to dive into things deeply,” she was saying. “Really, you’d both gone through so much together and finally you both got to just…start being a couple, and then it all went wrong again, so that — that forced you both back into the upside down bullshit…”
“Mom,” Jonathan said, a bit shocked.
“I’m serious,” Joyce said back, eyes fierce and full of love. “Jonathan, you’ve had to be an adult since you were just a kid. Since you were Will’s age. And then you finally get into a relationship with a beautiful girl, and immediately you’re thrown into war. Not even able to enjoy your teens going into adulthood. Even Nancy, she…she’s been through so much with you. And now…”
Joyce’s voice trailed off. She sighed, exasperated with herself. She re-centered, turning back to her son.
“I love you,” she told him, eyes full of love. “So much, you just don’t know. You are just…a good person. And the fact you feel overcome with guilt as though you’re not —“
“I haven’t been a good person, mom,” Jonathan murmured, voice wobbly.
“Jonathan,” Joyce whispered, squeezing his hands. “Just because you’ve not acted right in certain ways…that does not make you a bad person. Do you understand that? Because if not — then whoever’s telling you that…whether it’s someone you love, or a stranger, or yourself…stop listening. Seek within. Listen to your heart, because it’s never going to steer you wrong. And no, that’s not just some dumb cliche saying, it’s true. Your mind will confuse you, and your soul will get shaken. But your heart? It will always lead you back.”
Jonathan’s lip trembled, and Joyce held him tight as he shook him her arms. He clung to his mother, overwhelmed.
“I’m afraid I’ll never say enough, mom,” he wept into her shoulder. “To Steve, or to Nancy… I’m actually more sure about what I need to say to him instead of her.”
Joyce chuckled early, squeezing him tighter. “Aw, baby… Don’t overthink. Say whatever is going to give your heart peace. You’ll regret anything you never said far more than anything that you did.”
***
“Trust me kid, I’m in the doghouse now for the hell I raised on the phone with him.”
Hopper stood in front of Steve, along with Murray. They’d just spoken with Dr. Owens on the phone, who’d told Murray that he wouldn’t be able to bring them the medication until tomorrow morning. Murray had managed to remain calmer than Hopper, to both their surprise.  Now, they stood in the kitchen with Steve – filling him in.
Steve took a deep breath through his nose, exhaling just as deeply out his mouth like a puff of air he’d been holding while running a hand through his hair. Murray looked at him with a somber, empathic expression. 
“Doesn’t mean I’m not just as furious about it,” Murray pointed out. “But given the whole…having a target on his back thing…I’m trying to have some sort of grace about it, mostly for her sake. And yours.”
That made Steve look over at him gratefully. He couldn’t imagine the stress your uncle was experiencing, knowing your heart — literally — was on the line.
“Says he’ll be here with it as early as he can be,” Murray added. “Just keep doing what you’re already doing. Which is the most.” His lips turned upwards at one of the corners. “The most, and then some.”
Steve allowed himself to give your uncle a sad smile back, appreciating being seen by him. He’s all that you had as far as family goes. With a nod, Steve let that news settle into his brain. He reached out to shake Murray’s hand, who shook it back firmly and dared to pat his shoulder. Physical affection was so not his thing. But he’d make an effort for the guy his niece was in love with, and who not only saved her life — but was still doing everything he could to keep it intact. 
“Kids sleepover, huh?”
Hopper changed the subject, grinning at Harrington — who chuckled lightly.
“You guys know about this?”
Hopper shrugged. “We might’ve told them to allow themselves some fun for one night, before we all go into lockdown…” His expression turned grim, a thought pushing its way to the forefront of his brain. “And whatever plan needs to go into action.”
Steve knew what he meant. Getting back out there. He swallowed hard, giving him a quick nod. No one was ready for this. But were they ever really “ready” for any of this?
Murray and Hopper told Steve to not give any thought whatsoever to anything relating to doomsday until the next morning. They insisted that they just take the focus on laughing and soaking up the night with you and the kids. Steve was surprised at how certain they both were about it, but despite it being out of character for them in an endearing way…it scared him. It meant that they knew just how much everyone here was at risk. It made a sharp chill run up Steve’s spine.
Eventually, Steve had made his way up to Max’s room. He was sorting through it, making room for you all to camp out there. El had already turned her little cot bed into a floor couch of sorts, which made Steve grin. 
He talked to Max out loud as he checked her vitals. Lucas already had, along with Joyce and Hopper. Still, he always wanted to make sure. 
“Not sure if this is gonna be one of those nights where I’ve gotta make Dustin cut the attitude during games,” Steve was telling her with a smirk as he straightened her pillows. “Honestly, it’s probably an excuse for Mike and El to be able to cuddle at night. So I’ll likely be chaperoning the entire night. Good thing I got mad good sleep with Bauman today.”
Steve moved to close the curtains, watching the sun begin to set behind the trees in the distance. It looked dull, given all the debris and toxic air.
“You know what’s crazy?” he asked her.  “Ever since I started sleeping with her — like actually sleeping, head outta the gutter Max — it’s…I haven’t had a single nightmare. I always have those.”
He moved to discard some of the kids’ loose candy wrapped and one of Dustin’s empty pudding containers, glancing over at her sleeping form.
“Seriously, it’s weird. It’s like she just…makes them all disappear.” Steve scoffed a laugh at that. “Who’d have thought… She’s been a nightmare to me, and now I can’t…can’t even stand to think back on the times I never saw her like I do now.”
Steve looked around the room, seeing it was good for the night. It would be a tight squeeze — but having shuffled Max’s bed over enough so that they all had room to play games and draw on the floor with snacks, it would do. He sighed, taking a second to sit on the edge of the bed near her feet.
“Maybe this is a good thing,” he murmured. “Tonight.  Hearing all our voices at once. Arguing and bickering and laughing the way you all do together.” 
Steve poked her knee. “Think that’ll kick start you again, red? Wake you back up so that you can give us all shit?”
Her silence isn’t as long as he expects it to be whenever he hears a knock. Steve looks over to the open doorway, finding Jonathan standing there. He looks…wary. Rough, and timid. Standing awkwardly with his hands buried deeply in his pockets, he shoots Steve a very quick, uncomfortable right-lipped grin.
“Hey.”
Steve blinks. “Hey.”
Jonathan rocks on his feet for a moment. Finally, he clears his throat. “Can I come in?”
Steve blinks again, but eventually nods. “Yeah. Yeah, sure, yeah.”
Jonathan moves to lean against the wall, next to the doorway. Steve would laugh at the fact that this is Byers’ way of “coming in,” if it weren’t for the fact that he was so clearly nervous about something. Steve had a few guesses as to why he was here. He knew this had been coming, and he wishes he’d been the one to initiate it. Because they really needed to talk.
They’d needed to talk for 3 years.
“Look, Byers,” Steve started after waiting for what felt like a century for Jonathan to say something. “I owe you an apology…”
“No,” Jonathan cut him off. 
It made Steve look at him in surprise. But Jonathan continued before he could say anything else.
“No, it’s me who owes you an apology.”
Steve stared. “…what?”
Jonathan sighed, scratching his neck and praying the words could find him as he finally dove into what he needed to let off his chest.
“Look I’m not good at this,” Jonathan said. “Talking, I mean. You know I’m weird.” 
He gnawed at his lip, pensive and twitchy. He looked down at his feet a lot, feeling tense under Harrington’s gaze. But he sucked in a deep breath, going for it. 
“Back in 1982, you had every right to break my camera.”
Steve froze. “No, I didn’t.”
“Yeah. Yeah you did. I shouldn’t have been spying on you guys like that. ‘Cause even though I was looking for my brother, it…it turned into me just…following the sound of you all partying and watching from afar. So I mean, technically…”  Jonathan chuckled under his breath darkly. “Technically, I was being a stalker.”
He looked up at Steve finally, finding him looking at him in pure shock. 
“You were dating Nancy,” Jonathan continued. “And I took…really inappropriate pictures of her. In a moment when you both were having…or well, thought you were having a private moment together. That wasn’t alright. And if…if someone had done that to me and my girlfriend, I would’ve…probably done the same thing. And honestly, you getting mad at me in the alleyway that morning —”
“Dude, no,” Steve shook his head. “Don’t take the blame for that. That was all me. It was shitty, what I did to Nancy. And what I said to you.”
“Yeah it was, but you found me in your girlfriend’s room, Steve,” Jonathan told him. “I was in there with her, in her bed, sleeping next to her when she told you that she was with her family. It looked…fucked up.”
Steve was just staring again. How in the hell was this happening right now? And why had he himself never made it happen sooner?
“So you chewed me out,” Jonathan shrugged. “And no, you shouldn’t have publicly humiliated Nancy like that at all…”
“I kick myself for it every day,” Steve murmured. “Trust me…”
“I know,” Jonathan told him, voice softer. “I know that now. I’ve…known you have for a long time. Nancy told me. I know you apologized over and over.” He took a moment, going back. “But what you said to me was just…your way of saying fuck you. You felt used, tricked and stupid. After you’d protected Nancy from a guy who’d proven himself to be a creepy stalker, and it looked like she slept with him. So you lashed out. Like any teen guy would.”
“I called you a queer,” Steve says incredulously, cringing at the memory. “I even went as far as saying you were the reason for Will going missing, along with your mom. It was low, Jonathan. What I said and did was just — flat out low. No excuses. None. I’m the one in the wrong.”
“Steve, we both were.”
Jonathan’s voice finally finds confidence. It makes Steve look at him in another light, as if he’s truly seeing Byers for the strong-willed young man that he is. It occurs to him now that maybe Jonathan has been going through some soul searching of his own, just as he had over the last few years. Clearly, he still was.  Both of them were.
“We were barely 17 years old, and stupid,” Jonathan kept going. “We — we didn’t know how the hell to deal with anything. Much less a missing kid, or a guy related to that kid who’d taken creepy photos. We both were idiots.”
Steve let that land. And it actually made him laugh, sheepishly. 
“Yeah,” he nodded slowly, scratching his neck. “Yeah, I guess we were.”
Jonathan laughed too. It was still tense, a bit awkward. But it was becoming lighter. For both of them.
“Shit, Byers,” Steve shook his head. “Have we both been feeling awful about this for years and just… not saying something about it until now?”
Jonathan sighed. “Sounds like it.”
They were both quiet for a moment, letting this newfound revelation settle into existence.
“Thanks for the new camera, by the way,” Jonathan added. “I know that was you.”
Steve looked back up at him, finding kindness and sincere gratitude in Jonathan’s eyes. It made him feel shy. Worse, yet better at the same time.
“Least I could do,” Steve shrugged.
Jonathan sniffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well… You didn’t take the credit for it. You let Nancy do that.”
Jonathan pursed his lips, brow pinching as he shifted against the wall and stared down at his feet again. Steve waited as he watched him curiously.
“You extended way more kindness to me than I did you,” Jonathan said softly. So softly, it made Steve wonder if it was actually what he said.
“I shouldn’t have pined after Nancy,” Jonathan said. “I should’ve asked her out. Like actually asked her out, while she was single again. Before you two got back together.”
Steve felt his stomach jump. This was…a lot. So much was being covered right now in this conversation.
“But instead, I just sulked and pretended I still wasn’t in her thoughts at all. Even though I knew that…that she liked me. But I also knew that she liked you. So I just… I convinced myself it wasn’t ever gonna happen. Because that was safer. And hating you made it easier to do that.”
Jonathan looked ashamed of everything that he was saying now, but certain about it. Steve just listened, not daring to interrupt him.
“I might not have cheated with Nancy the first time you both dated…but I did the second time. And that’s not… that’s not right.” Jonathan sighed, taking a breath. “But I was a coward. Maybe not when it came to the upside down and finding Will, but up here? In regular real life? I am. I’m a coward. I don’t say whatever it is that I’m actually feeling or thinking, or wanna say. I just…wait for circumstances to make it happen for me. You don’t do that. You just…go for it.”
Steve scoffed. “Trust me, I’m…I’ve been a coward for years. In many ways, many times, for many reasons.”
“Yeah, well…you still didn’t steal someone else’s girlfriend instead of actually making a move. And I’m really…really sorry about that, Steve. I’m sorry I swooped in like that, and then…drunkenly bragged about it to Bauman Squared while you were in earshot. It made you take it out on her, when she didn’t deserve that. I did. All she did was call me out on it with Murray. They both had no idea it would turn into this.”
That made Steve squirm. He thought about how he’d been pining after Nancy still, even when she was with Jonathan. He took a deep breath, knowing he needed to let that off his chest too.
“Look,” Steve started warily. “Honestly, I really appreciate everything you’re saying. And really — apology accepted. Completely.”
Jonathan could tell that Steve meant it, and he visibly relaxed some once he let that settle into his bones. He released a breath of air that he hadn’t even realized he had been holding.
Meanwhile, Steve was holding his own.
“And you’re right,” Steve continued. “What I did to Bauman? Taking it out on her like that was…well it was projection. Cowardly projection. Instead of taking it out on you and Nancy, I took it out on someone else. Because that was easier. Because it meant that I still got to be the unsung hero in Nancy’s life, and a bigger person than you.”
Jonathan stared at him now, surprised to hear this. He wasn’t expecting his confessed guilt to lead to Steve admitting guilt of his own.
“I’ll probably be telling Bauman I’m sorry for as long as I live,” Steve continued, voice solemn. Honestly I feel…shitty beyond belief, knowing that I could’ve been kinder to her all this time…maybe even spared myself way more heartbreak...if I’d just gotten mad at you guys instead of her. Because then, I might’ve gotten close with her and discovered feelings for her before this all went down.”
“Maybe,” Jonathan pondered, nodding. “Then again… I don’t think you’d have fallen for her nearly as hard if it hadn’t been for you giving her shit for it.”
They both awkwardly chuckle at that. But it makes them both sad to think about it. How you’d taken the brunt of it all.
“Fuck, she didn’t deserve that,” Jonathan huffs. “And I’m — I’m the one who caused it.”
“No,” Steve shook his head, eyes sad and dark as they swam in regret. “No, that was all me. I was an asshole. And truthfully, I was still so hung up on Nance that I didn’t know how to even remotely look at another girl. Let alone one I convinced myself was responsible for taking that away from me, knowing damn well that it wasn’t. Nance wanted you, and you wanted her. Plain and simple.”
Jonathan looked ashamed all over again, but Steve held up a hand. 
“Trust me,” Steve assured him. “She wasn’t mine to keep. I get that now.”
Jonathan slowly smiled at that. “You love her, don’t you?”
Steve knew who he meant. You. 
“Yeah,” Steve whispered. “Yeah, I…don’t even know what to do with it.”
Steve stared into thin air, lost in thought. Jonathan didn’t push him, just watching him and waiting for him to go on.
“I just…look back on it all and wonder how. How did I not see her in high school, or…see during the summer of ‘84 that she was clearly perfect?”
“It takes time,” Jonathan said softly. “Shit doesn’t always hit you right away. I know that better than you’d think.”
Steve pursed his lips. “Yeah. Yeah no, you’re not wrong. I just… I dunno. I guess I’m just…”
He took a deep breath, knowing he needed to get this over with.
“I was still hung up on Nance while you were in California,” he continued, making eye contact with Jonathan again. “So much so that…I told her I was. And I’d…hoped to get her back. I wanted to steal her back from you.”
Jonathan sighed, giving him a small smile.
“I know,” he said. “She told me.”
Steve stared. Oh.
“Believe it or not,” Jonathan continued. “I’m not…mad about that at all.”
Steve blinked.  “…why…?”
Jonathan chuckled. “Steve, I actually stole your girlfriend. I had it coming.”
After several more blinks, Steve coughed out a laugh. Was he serious? As Jonathan laughed with him, he realized that he truly meant it. He wasn’t mad.
“Sorry man, but I won that round,” Jonathan chuckled.
“Fair,” Steve chuckled back. “Good game, man.”
Jonathan nodded awkwardly, shuffling his feet. “Yeahhh, good game…”
They took a few moments of silence, letting the tension wear off some more. It was…nice. This weird sort of talk was nice.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is,” Steve continued. “I’m sorry, too. For going after Nance again, and not just… facing you both sooner.”
“S'alright,” Jonathan told him. “I’ve honestly been a really shitty boyfriend these last several months.”
Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“Long story,” Jonathan waved a hand. “That’s my own wrong that I gotta make right with Nancy.”
Steve contemplated that. Had whatever was going south between Jonathan and Nancy, unbeknownst to him, been the reason she’d seemed to be interested in him again? Or was that just the tipping point for her, and her buried lingering feelings for Steve?
Regardless, it didn’t matter now. Steve was so in love with you, he couldn’t see straight. But it did make him wonder.
“And honestly, I don’t blame you,” Jonathan said, smiling. “Nancy, she’s…perfect.”
Steve smiled at him. “She’s pretty wonderful,” Steve agreed. “I’ll always adore her. But…”
“…but you found your person,” Jonathan finished for him. “Your ‘perfect’ person.”
Steve grinned. “Yeah. She makes everything make sense for me, and I just…god, I love her.”
Jonathan nodded, still smiling. “I know how you feel.”
Steve fiddled his thumbs in his lap, staring down at them and feeling his stomach knot up. There was another thing he needed to own up to…
“Jonathan, what I said to you…” Steve murmured, eyes still downcast. “Yesterday, back at the fence…when Bauman…” Steve winced, skipping that part.  “...it wasn’t at all —”
“I deserved it.”
“Okay, you’ve got to stop doing that, will you let me feel bad for at least one thing I’m saying?”
“No, and especially not this one.”
Steve sighed, perplexed. “…and why is that?”
“Because I deserved it.”
Jonathan watched as Steve just gaped at him, biting back amusement. He let the sincerity of the serious topic ground him again.
“You all searched and fought relentlessly for me and my mom when this all started,” Jonathan went on to say.
“...I so did not do anything from the start.”
“Maybe you don’t think you did? But you did.”
“…I so did not.”
“You got there. And besides…like we both said earlier…lots of misdirected projection. And lots of long overdue confrontation. On both our parts.”
Steve couldn’t argue that. Byers was right, at least in this case.
“You were still mad at me,” Jonathan continued, “and I was just mad at myself but convinced that everything and everyone else — you included — were the problem. Not me.”
Jonathan gnawed at his lip for several moments, clearing his throat.  “You basically unleashed years of deeply buried resentment onto me in one foul swoop.  I gotta say, your words…shit hit me hard.”
Steve frowned, ducking his head a bit.  “I honestly don’t even remember some of it.  I just…saw red.”
Jonathan snorted.  “Blind rage will do that.  Shit, I don’t even remember swinging on you back in ‘82.  Apparently, I did a pretty nasty job.”
“I was positive you’d done permanent damage to my nose.”
“Yeah, and then you took an even worse beating from that Hargrove kid and the Russians,” Jonathan said, nose scrunched with a laugh.  Steve laughed, too.  They had to laugh about it all at this point.
“Christ, man,” Steve groaned.  “It’s a wonder my face isn’t the prime subject for plastic surgery…”
Jonathan shrugged. “And you wonder why we all hate you so much.  You’ve gotten your ass beat so many times, and still look good.”
Steve smirked.  “Thanks.”
Jonathan winked.  “I’m sure Bauman Squared digs it.  All the battle wounds.”
That actually made Steve blush.  “Psh.  Compared to the fall she took?  My experiences look like a walk in the park.”
“So Dr. Owens is bringing her meds tomorrow, yeah?” Jonathan asked, brow pinched with worry.
Steve sighed, raking a hand through his hair before crouching over his knees, elbows pressing into them.  “Yeah.  Yeah, that can’t come soon enough.”
Jonathan looked at Steve with a somber expression.  He hated that he was going through this.  Seriously, when was Harrington going to catch a damn break?
“She’ll be alright, man,” Jonathan told him kindly.  “She’s got you.  Got all of us.”
Steve nodded.  “Yeah, she’s gonna have to be.  I’ll lose my goddamn mind if she — yeah, she has to be.”
“She will,” Jonathan nodded, speaking firmly.  Assuringly.  “She’s not going anywhere.”
Steve bit his lip, staring at his hands.  
Jonathan shuffled his feet, feeling shy again before asking… “So hey…are we cool?  Like actually really, finally cool?”
Steve looked up at that, eyes shining with relief and kindness.  He stood up, extending a hand out for a firm handshake.  “Yeah man.  We’re cool.  For good.”
Jonathan felt relief wash over him entirely as he shook Steve’s hand, pulling him in for a tight hug.  And Steve felt like he had just made so much peace with his old self in a multitude of ways, over one honest conversation with Byers.  While he wished it had happened sooner, he realized…maybe if it had, it wouldn’t have led to this.  This true sense of peace that came with newfound mature understanding that both of them had grown into individually.
Byers and Harrington could be friends now.  They both had peace to find with Nancy Wheeler, but if they were being brutally honest with themselves — that wasn’t going to be possible until the two of them had hashed it out, once and for all.  And now that they had, Steve could let Nancy know that he had finally moved on…once and for all...and so could she.
And Jonathan could go make things right with her — whether that led to them deciding to take time apart, or getting his girl back.
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sports-on-sundays · 3 days
Note
Okay I figured it out !!! what if y/n is a F1 driver and she’s really close with Charles or lando and is with either Pablo , Fermin , or pedri and they get jealous of how close y/n and Charles or lando are !! And they get into an argument before the Barcelona GP and y/n thinks they won’t be there to see them race but in the end they do go and see y/n get a home podium and they make up !!
surprises in Barcelona / Pedri González
Summary: Pedri x Spanish!F1 driver!girlfriend!reader - When Y/n is in a job in which she's surrounded by nineteen male, handsome hot shots nearly all near long, it's easy for her boyfriend to get a bit jealous.
Warnings: censored cuss, arguing in a relationship, screaming, communication cut off for a while
Requested?: Yes! <3
Author's Note: OMG I LOVE IT. It's kind of funny, because I have an OC much like the reader in this story, so to be honest, that's just what I imagined while writing this.
It all starts with a stupid, petty comment.
Pedri is to the point of practically begging you for some time together, since his schedule is free. But yours isn't. You tried to explain so many times that even though you're back home in Barcelona, and not in the UK, that doesn't mean you don't have work to do before the next race here in Barcelona.
Maybe you're being a bit harsh. Maybe you should sit down with your boyfriend and snuggle him a bit. Let him have you, just for a moment, just for a short break in both of your glittery sporting lives.
But if you were starting to change your mind at all, or feeling any sympathy in the slightest, it's suddenly squashed when that stupid comment comes out of his mouth.
"Yeah, I'm sure you've got a lot of work to do. Since you clearly care about your teammate more than your own boyfriend."
Your head snaps to look at him. "Excuse me? What teammate?"
His thick, dark eyebrows knit together as he comments, crossing his arms. "You know. Your teammate. The one you constantly talk about, and joke around with? You're practically flirting by now."
This is coming as a shocker to you. This is the first time Pedri's ever voiced thoughts such as these. But you clench your jaw. "I'm sorry, but I have no idea why you feel the need to bring Lando into this-"
"Because you're putting him over me! And your job! And your team!"
"No I'm not!" you snap, then taunt a bit, "Oh, is someone getting jealous?"
"I have the right to!" Pedri is starting to get angrier, and his body straightens more. "I see how you nudge him, and hug him after good performances-"
"Everyone does that! I'm not getting mad at you for hugging your teammates after a goal is scored, am I?"
"No, but that's different!"
"In what way? Just because I'm a woman?" your lip curls in annoyance. "So I'm not allowed to have sportsmanship and camaraderie with my team, just because of my gender? Just because my teammate is a man, and I'm a woman? Give me a f*cking break!"
Pedri stands up, his face reddening, and now his voice is raised as he snaps back, "It's not that! It's that you're doing all that, and not giving me any attention! You spend more time with Norris these days than you do with me!"
"It's because he's amongst me in my job! I can't really avoid him!"
"Maybe you should try separating your job from your personal life and show me some love for once! Give me back some of the energy I give to you!" he suddenly screams.
There's a few seconds of silence, but your heart feels cold as you respond, "So I'm not allowed to have friends, then? I have to give my everything to you, and only you? Well, at least Lando doesn't expect anything more from me than what I can give."
"Yeah, and that's because you're giving him so much! Why don't you consider me?"
"Why don't you consider me?" you suddenly yell, before slamming the door of his flat shut and leaving, your head spinning with irrational thoughts.
Lando isn't just your teammate. He's also your friend. And a good friend, at that. But you figure it's hard for anyone who really knows Lando not to like him.
Now he catches you in the McLaren garage, before the first practice session of the Barcelona Grand Prix weekend. It's been a week since the argument with Pedri, and over that week, your conscience has been killing you. You tried to text him twice, but didn't get a response, and you're too nervous to call, because you don't want to face the fact that he could just decide not to pick up.
But your heart and head are aching, and clearly it shows on your face, because suddenly you feel a friendly slap on your back as Lando says, "It's your home race weekend, Y/n. Look a bit more alive!"
You shrug and force a smile. "I know. Just got some things on my mind."
"Something bad happen?" he inquires, his eyebrow cocking up a bit.
"Not really," you shrug.
As if reading your mind, Lando asks, "Will your boyfriend be able to make it this weekend?"
This question makes your head swarm.
Will he? I mean, if he's ignoring me now, why would he bother to come to the Grand Prix?
Maybe he's too busy for me, like I was for him.
You swallow as you feel a pang of guilt deep in your chest.
"Uh, I don't know... I don't think so," you say, clearing your throat.
Lando continues looking at you expectantly with big eyes, as if thinking you're going to elaborate on that. But when you don't he says with a little frown, "Well, why not? He lives in Barcelona." Lando is, obviously, aware of which famous football player is your boyfriend.
You shrug a little. "It's a long story, to be honest. But I'm fine, Lando. Don't worry. Besides, I think the best thing right now is to just focus on racing, you know?"
Lando nods slowly, not seeming fully convinced, but says, "Alright, then. Whatever you think."
You nod as he gives you another reassuring slap on the back and walks on.
You sigh.
Just have to switch my brain off into racing mode. See all those Spanish fans cheering me on.
I've got all of McLaren, including Lando, backing me.
And I've got all of Spain, except for maybe Pedri González, my own boyfriend, backing me, too.
When you get into that car, it's like the world stops moving. In all three practices, and then in qualifying. There's no worrying about jealousy, relationships, or public image. All there is is you, the car, the speed, and the other cars you, ultimately, need to beat.
All there is is the wind, the throttle, the limits you're pushing to break past.
The speed.
It's why you love racing.
You finish qualifying in fourth, and when Lando sees you in the garage, he gives you a high five and a friendly half-hug before saying, "Starting 3-4 for the race. Good job."
You smile and nod. "Thanks. You know how it is, though." You can tell he's just trying to cheer you up. He's not actually this estatic about starting in third and fourth.
"Yeah, yeah," he nods, putting on his cap. "But, hey." He makes eye contact with you. "Maybe your boy will show up for the race, at least?"
You shrug, looking down and respond simply, "Maybe." You doubt it.
You're sure you'll make it up. The next time you see him, you'll fix everything. Apologize, and explain.
It just kind of sucks that this had to all go down right before one of the few races on the calendar that Pedri can actually make it to. Your home race.
Before the race, you text Pedri.
It's left on sent, just like the other two.
"What's got you in such a good mood?" you demand to Lando, who is basically walking around the paddock like a smug little contained jar of sunshine and rainbow, being cheeky because clearly he knows something no one else does.
You know the bratty look in his eyes.
He seems to find a ridiculous amount of pleasure in this question from you as he comments, his voice drawn out in a sing-song tone, "Nothing..."
You roll your eyes and tease, "What, some cute girl asked you out? Or, what, you heard Red Bull talking about some kind of terrible problem with their car? Or, what, you overheard the full and complete ultimate strategy of Ferrari in order to take us down?"
Lando's grin grows. "All of those things would be pretty great, but unfortunately, none of them are true. Simply, nothing at all is different," he comments, like the complete and utter dork he is.
How could Pedri ever think I'd chose this loser over him? you ask yourself in rueful disbelief.
"Alright, then don't tell me!" you say with a shrug, showing you really aren't going to waste any more energy with him.
"Good, because otherwise I might slip the secret!"
At this, your eyebrows furrow, but when you glance back at Lando, he waves his hand and adds, "You'll figure it out soon enough."
For a while, you ponder on what Lando could have been talking about, but soon you're putting on your helmet, and forgetting everything.
Because you have a chance to podium at your home race, and you intend to do it.
So you pull out on track. Drive the formation lap, entering the zone, letting everything but racing slip from your mind.
Feeling the pounding of your heart and the pulsing adreniline.
And then, before you know it, it's-
Lights out, and away we go!
"So, what place is that, then?" you question over the radio in the last lap.
"Uh, that's P2, Y/n. P2," comes the response back.
It hits you. "What? I didn't even know!" you laugh high, actually so shocked. "When did that happen?"
You hear your engineer laugh and say, "Do you want the whole run down of the race right now, or later?"
You laugh to yourself as you see the chequered flag waving ahead. "And Lando?"
"Uh, Lando go P3," answers your engineer.
"Wait, really? No way! Oh, yeah, I guess so, if I got P2!"
"Well, I'm starting to doubt you even drove the race, but if you did- great job today. That's a double podium for the team and some great points. Enjoy the podium."
You laugh to yourself and say, "I could only do it because of all the home fans cheering me on. The crowd is great!"
"Oh, and that's driver of the day, too."
"Yes! Vamos, baby. Great job, everyone, and thanks to everyone who voted for me."
When you get out of the car and flip up your visor, your heart is already pounding in your chest. Lando high fives you, and then gestures to the McLaren team, ready to greet their two drivers at the finish line.
But you can see the cheeky grin still lingering from before in Lando's eyes, and now you can see exactly why.
"Pedri?!" you scream with a (quite terrible) voice crack. Immediately you run to him, and he grabs you, taking you into his arms as you feel a couple hands from your teammates patting your shoulders and helmet in congratulations.
Pedri kisses your helmet, right where the little Spanish flag on it is. He's grinning, and says, right to you, "I'm so proud of you. And I'm sorry- I wanted it to be a surprise."
You grin and respond, "We can talk stuff over right now. Right now, I've got champagne to spray, no?"
Pedri grins back and nods in agreement. "Go for it."
In the cool down room, you corner Lando and snap, "So that's what you were being so smug about! Had you seen Pedri before the race?"
Lando grins and nods, sitting down in Max's P1 chair, not caring. "Yeah. He told me not to tell you about him being there. A surprise."
"He can speak enough English to tell you that?" You've, obviously, always just spoken to him in Spanish.
Lando chuckles and says, "Well, enough."
On the podium, when you pop the champagne, you spray it at Lando, and Lando sprays it back at you and Max. Adreniline and joy fills you as you then take a swig from the bottle and rub the stinging champagne from your eyes, feeling the wetness of it all over you.
Once you've gotten off the podium and are back in the garage, you spot Pedri, and immediately run to him. You wrap your arms around him and kiss his cheek, and say right away, "I'm so sorry, Pedri."
He hugs you back, but doesn't respond.
"I've been feeling so terrible about what happened all week... And then with the silent treatment, too..." You sigh. "I should have given you some time. I could have spared even fifteen minutes, and it would have been good for both of us. I was such an idiot, putting my own thing above you. And even if I had so much to do I couldn't spare some time for you, it was things I could still work on with you. I'm sorry. I was just being a petty idiot, and there's no reason for it."
Pedri hugs you tighter, and as you speak, it feels like there's a weight being lifted off your chest. But now it's Pedri's turn to let off the weight on his chest. "It's okay... I... I forgive you. Thank you. But I was an idiot, too. It's just... I know Norris is your friend, and I don't want you to stop having friends. It just hurts when I know you see him more than you see me. But I shouldn't have even implied you would intentionally put him over me. I'm just... It's hard not to get jealous, but I need to get better. Just... it'd be nice if you... well... if you can help it, don't constantly be hugging him and stuff, you know? But over all, I was an ass, and I'm sorry. I just took my jealousy and anger out when you said you were too busy- That was wrong of me. I'm sorry for not responding to your texts, too... The first few days, I was still too stuck in my thoughts to, but then I had the idea to surprise you at the Grand Prix, and... Well, were you surprised to see me?"
You smile softly, wholeheartedly accepting his apology and understanding his point of view much more after having a week of thinking and stressing over what had happened. But now you respond, "I was perfectly surprised. I'm so glad you came, Pedri, to see me..." Now you're beaming at him.
He grins back, stroking your cheek. "I'd never, ever miss my amazing racing girlfriend's home race!"
"I know, but..."
He comments, "It was an amazing drive. For you and Norris."
"Oh, quit calling him 'Norris'! He's my friend, which means he's yours, too, whether you like it or not!"
Pedri chuckles but accepts it. "Alright, alright. But now- am I allowed to treat Miss P2 to something sweet?"
"What do you have in mind?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.
He smirks and says with a wink, "It's a surprise. Are you okay with a second one for today?"
You laugh a little, but nod. "I don' know if anything could be better than simply the surprise of seeing your handsome face, but I suppose another surprise would be good."
"Alright, good. But first-" he leans in closer and says softer, "Don't I get a kiss from my little winner?"
You roll your eyes and say, "I'm neither little or a winner, not today."
"Ah, but you're little compared to me," he comments, referring to you being shorter than him, "and you've certainly won my heart."
"Ah, you're so cliché!" you snap, but lean in, cupping his cheeks, and give him a passionate post-race kiss.
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this-loser · 2 days
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I'll be Back!
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Author's Notes: Been sitting on this for a while and didn't think it would get anywhere, but obviously I was wrong! So this is the shortest chapter for now, mostly because it is the beginning and I wanted to set the scene before getting into more. I don't know how many chapters this series will be but know that I plan on making the next chapter longer and it might take me a while to upload it.
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「WC: 729」
「Summary: The simple promise of coming back soothed him until it didn't. Until the hours went by and the search began while time raced on as sickening cackling filled into the air.」
「Warnings: TW! Mentions of violence, heavy angst, depression, panic attacks, PTSD, Anxiety, and it might make you cry」
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「Chapter: Always be Mine as the World Turns Dark」
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Your laughter echoed in his head as he sat back on the couch. His eyes stuck on the small screen of the video camera. It was such a beautiful sound to him as he continued to watch the video.
“Jason!” You chirped, moving to him as he looked up from cleaning his guns. The sight of the camera in his face made him frown slightly and lower his gun as he sat up straighter. “Baby. Do you need to shove the camera in my face, I mean I’m aware of how ugly I am alread-” “No you’re not!” Your voice interrupts him and he can’t help but chuckle silently at your reaction, turning his head away while you pout. “Can’t we have something nice to remember ourselves by before we get old?” His attention is drawn onto the word “old” and he looks back at you with a raised brow. “Old? Nah.. You’ll outlive me, not like I haven’t died once before.” He can’t help but laugh while you shake, trying to hold in the laughter at his dark joke. “Jay, I swear-” “What are you gonna do? Punch me? Do it, I dare you.” He set his gun down onto the coffee table. “Come on, you swore,” He playfully mocks before scooping you up, your laughter filling the air as he gently tackles you onto the couch. “Can’t make a swear and not carry it out!”
Jason blinked quickly, tears gathering in his eyes as the video ends, your laughter echoing in his head as he struggles to not cry. The one good thing. The only good thing and it's gone from him. Somewhere out there in the underside of Gotham City. Lost and here he was wasting time, he needed a moment is what Bruce told him, watching the videos you recorded. The ones filled with love and happiness that seemed to haunt his mind and heart. “Fuck…” He muttered, voice raw and filled with anguish as he quickly hit the playback button, the video rewinding to the beginning. Your face, your smile, just you. It hurt the more he watched the video, craving you and everything that reminded him of you.
He could feel them. The tears finally rolled down his cheeks as he leaned forward, the video camera hiding his face as his forehead lightly pressed against the screen. Your laughter hitting his ears again and making his chest tighten horribly like someone was squeezing it.
Silence along with his quiet sniffling filled his apartment. The place was a mess since you disappeared. The small things you owned and the single plant you loved being cherished like it was all he had left of you. The single dim light of the floor lamp filled the living room, haunting and empty. A similar feeling the rest of the apartment gave that once had a happy couple. A deep rooted love between two flawed people, finding solace in each other.
The video played again. Your voice filled his ears as he kept crying and torturing himself before he went out again. Out to find you and bring you home.
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You hum softly. The hollowed echoes of a song that had love and hope in it, now turned into a sad calling. A comfort before the pain came back. The rope digging into your wrists, adding more to the bruises as the deafening silence had become too much again as your head stays lowered. Dried tears and blood on your face and nothing but pain riddling your body. Things were a blur. Memories and the torment of the last two weeks are still fresh.
The sound of feet outside the room was the only indication that you weren’t alone. Never alone with that monster outside. The thing that had tormented Jason now became your hell.
The door bursts open, his voice making you tense and stop humming. His voice was something you’d associated with the pain and now it was back. Fresh tears gather in your eyes as you start to tremble, aware that this chair and the ropes were about to be the only thing you could ground yourself on until the pain was over.
Sickening cackles fill the room, sweat starting to form on the back of your neck. All that you could do was grip the arm of the chair, nails digging into the wood.
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cyggiestardust · 2 years
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May I present:
Real talk on being real: nonbinary edition I noticed something a while back: a lot of people got real fucken weird when I came out as nonbinary. I mean yeah, there was a lot of the shit that you would expect from this sort of thing: the casual transphobia started real quick, both from people that I don’t know in person and from people who I would have thought would do better about this kind of…
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aroacehanzawa · 6 months
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i'm going to be real with you guys for a moment. i don't think i'll continue following bsd much after this point
#i take back what i said about being excited for what's to come. i mean i am. in a very general impersonal way.#but the way the series is going. if the ending of the anime is going to be followed by the manga in a similar direction#is just very different from the silly armed detective agency vs port mafia authors with superpowers slightly high-stakes slice of life#that i originally signed up for. i've felt this way the whole decay of angels arc and just stuck around to see what happens#and because i care about the characters. bsd was always a character-focused manga for me#but the direction it seems to be taking is this massive epic entire-world-at-stake military scifi drama#where super epic power-up style ability weapons (and one-off overpowered nameless ability users are introduced and killed off in the same#scene. like the time manipulation catgirl) take the forefront at the expense of actual character focus and character development#like why are most of the (original) cast completely unaccounted for in what was meant to be a satisfying ending.#did asagiri forget that atsushi is the main character. why did tachihara's and sigma's arcs get cut short like that.#and frankly i feel like bsd started to take this direction from storm bringer onwards. the focus and scope of it is very different#to for example the untold origins or dazai's entrance exam or even 55 minutes. but if i were to theorise i would say that the scope of#the current direction of bsd must have started germinating during the 55 minutes light novel. if you can see what i mean#anyway more importantly i find that the tone is now entirely different from early bsd. it's just not the series that i fell in love with#so i think it's best that i stop here before letting it turn sour like jujutsu kaisen is to me now.#i have the manga (and anime) that i can reread (rewatch) up to the perfect crime arc whenever i want#i can reread the sskk fight of volume 20 whenever i want. i can revisit sigma and nikolai's chapters. there's wan. there's the light novels#and there's the wonderful fanfics and fanart and so many metas to read. that's what brings me joy more than the series itself nowadays.#that's all. end of era i guess. to an extent
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orchideae · 4 months
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When I approach Yelan (or anyone else I've written), I don't just look directly at her character, but I also look at her surroundings. Both the ones that she knows by some semblance of necessity, but also those that she chooses. Like here, I talked about the Chasm, and what being 'okay' with existing down there needs to mean for a character, because it's not normal. Someone's surroundings, room, or home say a lot bout who they are and what their mindset, or specifically, their perspective is of the world. And sometimes, I think it says more about people than even the characters realize.
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This brings me to the topic of the city of Fontaine. Now, I personally think it's rather obvious that a lot of the nation takes from historical France, and so when looking at it, I think it really adds to remember its monarchy, the view that the 'common folk' had of it, and its inevitable demise to non-existence today in terms of importance as a result. So my first question is, who constructed or decided on its layout? Was it Furina, Neuvillette, Egeria? Whoever it was, there's a lot that can be said about their view of the world and their placement in it when you look at locations of buildings. Look at where Palais Mermonia, its governing body, is located within the city; it sits at a rather astounding elevation in comparison to, well, everything and everyone else in the city. This frequently represents the concept of 'distance' between groups in one way or another, and seeing the consistency in other nations, this is something that is rather intriguing to me, especially keeping Fontaine's characters in mind (and considering this is the nation of 'justice'). Mondstadt has everything almost entirely uniform, with arguably the church on the highest level (but it isn't greatly elevated in comparison to all else), but it's joined with the plaza and statue which are a common gathering site for all people in the city. Liyue had the gods and adepti visibly living among the humans back in the days of the Guili Assembly for reasons of 'integration' (my apologies to numerous from our dear Guizhong!) The fact that numerous adepti now live far outside of the harbor is a different matter entirely, and the one who seems to function within a semblance of separation of sorts is Ningguang with the Jade Chamber (but I'm not one to speak on behalf of her character as I don't bear the knowledge). Inazuma also has the Tenshukaku at a higher elevation in comparison to the rest of Inazuma City. Sumeru is interesting, but ultimately Nahida was kept at the very peak of the city, far out of reach of humanity— but that's exactly the common denominator that has my interest, the distance between the 'governing body' and humanity for one reason or another.
But Fontaine really takes separation to a different level in my opinion (and again, think of this when you think of the person having designed the whole city), not only because of the above which I'll elaborate more on in a moment, but also its separation from the outside world. Now, this is interesting to think about if you keep in mind that it was perhaps done in eventual protection of the city's inhabitants in terms of the prophecy (which means that this would have been constructed anywhere during or after Egeria's reign), but then why is only Palais Mermonia far above the water's reach? If the walls surrounding the city were ever breached during said prophecy, all its inhabitants are pretty much immediately caught in the flood and would drown, which tells me nothing positive of the city's 'architect' or whoever signed off on the designs. But if not done for the prophecy, then why? Stand in the middle of the Court of Fontaine and really look around you, the only sights you really have of the outside world are the sky, and it's obstructed by a fair bit of the waterways and gardens that hang overhead, which you can only properly enjoy when you take the ages long elevator to the upper level where the palace is located (which, credit due, seems freely accessible to everyone in present-time). But if you don't venture up, how much of the outside world do you get to see? It feels very secluded, very much under lock and key. On some level (and this is one of the many reasons why I think that the Meropide is so excessively important in Fontaine and it's likely why we spent so much time there; it's all to show the ever, ever important contrast and nuance between this 'autonomous nation within Fontaine' and, well, 'Fontaine'), it almost feels like a prison, regardless of how pretty it may look or come across (and despite not 'lacking rights'). And considering how people in the Meropide speak of not always wanting to return back to the 'overworld' following their sentence, I think that there's definitely quite a bit of truth in that. But again, stand there and look around for yourself.
Now to return to the original topic, but keeping the last one in mind as well, look at one other thing that I'm unsure how many have really kept an eye on: the massive effect Palais Mermonia's level has on the rest of the area (inside and outside of its walls). Have you ever walked through the city of Fontaine at any given time of day or night, north to south, east to west, clockwise or counter-clockwise circling through it; have you ever seen how it overshadows an immense part of the streets below it either entirely on its own (which to me signifies a very domineering presence), or together with those outer walls that surround the city? I know how I've spoken thoroughly with people before about how much I enjoy Fontaine and how dark it is in its storytelling, but despite how gorgeous this region with its water- and landscapes are; its city bears quite a heavy weight to me. I don't know who designed it, or ordered it to be constructed in this way, but nothing about the city itself truly, rationally, shows a healthy perspective versus its citizens.
Me: /continues on to ramble in tags because I'm me and I'm a nuisance with always more to say than I know how to coherently put into these posts.
#[ meta. ] the chances are if i open this door; there can be no witnesses left alive. is that a sufficient reason for you?#[ i love how i'm writing a liyue-based character and here i am rambling about fontaine. ]#[ listen my little french heart just ached at this. i've been sitting on it for so long and have been wanting to talk about it. ]#[ but every time i hear 'fontaine is so pretty' -- i agree. i truly do. and the city has become my new 'hub' away from liyue harbor... ]#[ which says a ton in itself. ]#[ so trust me when i say i enjoy it and find it gorgeous. but i don't have any real kind words to spare on who designed it. ]#[ and i don't mean that in an insulting/bad kind of way but more so in the sense of-- whichever god likely designed this-- ]#[ how much worth was placed where; you know? ]#[ this is why i find the gods and all of their differing views so inherently interesting. ]#[ but then i also sit here longer and think more of the meropide. ]#[ and how THAT is supposed to be the prison. hmmmm. and yet /that/ is the place many seem to not want to leave anymore. ]#[ the place that is run and made better by the person whose tragic case was entirely missed and neglected by the authorities. ]#[ ah yes; the meropide. aka meropis-- the retelling (was it a parody? i believe so) of plato's story of atlantis. ]#[ which was sunk by the gods as punishment to its people for leading lives they deigned morally unjust and petty and /greedy/. ]#[ ah yes. the references never end. ]#[ granted we know how the meropide came to be-- so if egeria was in charge of that. chances are she likely was for fontaine as well. ]#[ well-- ]#[ well. ]#[ yep. i have more to say but i'm struggling to find my words-- so here we are for now! ]
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opens-up-4-nobody · 1 year
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...
#this just in: local algae enthusiast shocked to find that u feel bad when u dont take care of yourself >:-[#this is bullshit. i am rattling the bars of my cage and also i am standing outside the door with the key#what do u mean i cant not sleep enough. intensely focus for 6.5hrs nonstop and have to take care of additional stuff floating around.#and then spend all my time agonizing over not being productive enough?#ugh. its exhausting. and its one thing to live like this and love what ur doing. its another when u dont fucking care so all ur time feels#empty and pointless bc all u do is work. bleh i just wanna draw all the time but coloring takes so much time when u wanna make complicated#things :-( so its like draw something new or spend 3hrs coloring and i hate coloring :-P#its also frustrating bc when i read papers associated with the work ill be doing in the fall i actually enjoy it#and thats what i wanna do in my free time but that space is so limited bc working takes up all the space#and drawing takes a lot of time. but hey i can cut out more space by not taking care of myself 😎#ugh. dont b like me. draw a healthy line between academia and life#otherwise its like yay reviewers have approved ur 1st authored paper and im like i could not even begin to care#light all my data on fire for all i care. i would feel nothing#and im not gonna rake od measurements today. fuck u. im tired and if i accidentally killed a culture ill be sad#ugh. but i should. but i have to do some coding before the end of the day and i cant if i have to spend another hr here 😫#ugh. just a few more months#unrelated
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floral-hex · 9 months
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no see I WILL write something eventually, I haven’t been putting it off, I’ve just been uhhhhh cultivating the story for a couple of years yeah yeah
#stop cultivating and start harvesting idiot#no but I CAN’T write until I have at least a dozen books of story ready to go#how am I supposed to foreshadow anything if I don’t know what’s going to happen 500 chapters later???#how am I supposed to write a character even a minor one if I don’t have their entire future backstory and parent’s backstory planned out??#I can’t worldbuild unless I plan out all of the major cities including their political systems religions economy food production trade etc#also I just don’t want to sit down and write#so I just sit an worldbuild in my head all day#I have been for like two years now this is the longest I’ve seriously ‘worked on’ (ie daydreamed) a story in my head#and it’s really cliche and has a billion well worn tropes but it’s like… this is my comfort world building#and by comfort I mean really kinda fucked up world but whatever every edgelord or loser with an over active imagination has one#I need to read more people’s uhh… like.. not published authors… like tumblr users writing or whatev. like what is it called ao3? that stuff#not to be negative to them or anything but to like hype myself up#like see you don’t have to be a big named author to put your mind out there#I’m just kind of babbling here#suddenly reminded that a book I like John Dies At The End was originally released chapter by chapter online#so like… you don’t have to be like ‘this has to be put out whole in one book to be real writing’#I just need to write for fun but im a very shy boy 🥺#im fucking 34 im not a little boy I have to remind myself#anyway… if any mutuals read this much and you write online you should message me something you have that you like so I can read it#and I’ll be extra sweet and supportive and happy bc you’ll be helping me and I’ll get to support you#or whatever. I dunno. this is dumb. I’m sorry for wasting your time! jeez!#you can ignore this#text
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lathrine · 1 year
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tangentially related, it is unbelievable how uncomfortable the question "do you prefer all gender neutral language?" made me. not because i dont (i do) but because of the implication that i, a nonbinary They Them, would have been fine with gendered language if i hadnt spoken up
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seat-safety-switch · 10 months
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Police officers could solve real problems. They could be out there feeding hot soup to the unhoused, making sure that hazardous garbage is kept away from daycares, or doing something about all these birds that keep shitting on my car. Instead of those productive things, Officer Bringdown is here, on the side of the road, spending my tax money to hand me a ticket for more of my money.
Or at least he would be, if he could figure out how to work his dorky little ticket printer. You see, I have an ace up my sleeve. Not only is my car old, and difficult to place, but I’ve made certain modifications to the vehicle that render its legal state “complicated.” My shark of an attorney, Max, brags about the bear trap of intermingled kit-car laws and year-of-manufacture exclusions that have led to this vehicle being one hundred percent approved-of by the government, in any condition I dictate, whether they meant to or not.
“Uhh, how do you spell ‘Duesenberg’ again?” the cop asks, betraying his lack of education in the classics. I spell it out for him, and explain again that the replica registration exception of December 1986 means that a 1921 Model J does not need to have operational turn signals or a functional speedometer.
“How is this a replica of a 1921 car? It says Plymouth on the hood.” he asks me suspiciously, behind mirrored aviator shades. I am familiar with this shift in conversation. I see now that he has fallen into the first legal pit without complaint. I was hoping for a more worthy opponent.
“Officer, has the state rendered upon you an encyclopedic knowledge and unimpeachable legal authority of what a 1921 Duesenberg Model J consists and does not consist of?” I ask him, reading off a sheet that has been provided by my attorney, who would really rather that I shut the fuck up entirely, but who I know secretly thrills at the chance to end another state trooper’s career in the court of law in which he is akin to a walking god. Dude has groupies.
The cop demurs, tries to change the subject, save some face. “What’s that smell?” he asks.
“Hydrazine.”
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sundrop-writes · 21 days
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Careful - Chapter One
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(Dad)Spencer Reid x (Mom)Fem!Reader
Chapter One: Over Yet
We can go farther, beyond the end.
Summary:
You and Spencer broke up more than four years ago. Since then, he has tried his best to forget about you. He has pushed all of his feelings down - locked them away into a little box that he never touches.
That is, until he sees your name on a list of potential victims being stalked and killed by a man who kills single mothers. (And he quickly realizes that your son could be his.)
Dad!Spencer Reid x Mom!Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Angst.
Word Count: 5,900
Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist
Please keep in mind - I am not doing a taglist for this series, so please do not ask to be tagged in future parts. I do not do taglists. If you want to be notified when future parts of this fic are posted, you can follow this blog and turn on notifications here - I don't make personal posts on this blog, it is just pure posts of my fanfiction. Or you can subcribe on AO3 to get email notifications when this series is posted. You can also view the posting schedule on the series materlist and check @tenpintsof-sundrop for any information about possible changes to that schedule.
Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.
Warnings: general warnings for a Criminal Minds episode - mentions of murder/killing, somewhat graphic descriptions of killing, somewhat graphic descriptions of dead bodies, the underlying misogyny that comes with a man killing women, mentions of children being orphaned due to their mothers being killed (though there is no mentions of other living family members taking care of those children - you can imaging that they still have nice families to take care of them if you want, I didn’t fill in that detail), mentions of children being in proximity of a serial killer; exes to lovers - the reader and Spencer broke up and the reason why will be revealed later; mentions of pregnancy/mentions of the reader having a child; mentions of sex that resulted in a child/pregnancy (there is no detailed sex scenes/detailed smut in this chapter, but there will be in other chapters); mentions of JJ x Will; the reader’s looks are described as vaguely as possible; passing mention of incest (in the context of a historical figure); all statements that Spencer makes toward the end of this chapter were heavily researched and are factual; I think that’s about it?
A/N: The reader and Spencer originally dated around Season 1/Season 2 - I state at some point during the fic that they dated for 3 years before breaking up, so they started dating when he was very early Season 1 baby Spence (or even before Season 1) and they broke up around Season 2. So technically this fic takes place around Season 6 - but because I didn't want to distract from the plot, I didn't mention any of the stuff going on with Emily or any of those major canon plot points, and I am using pictures of later versions of Spencer just because that's who I was picturing in my head while writing this. But that's how the math works out. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the fic!! This chapter is more of an introduction before we really get into the meat of things, but I still hope that you guys like it.
...
The team had been in Portland for three days.
No leads, a confusing, inconsistent profile - huge pieces missing that would likely give them the real answers. 
A patient killer with an extended timeline who likely wouldn’t kill again for months - leaving them chasing their tails, looking for answers. 
“Okay, so, let’s take a step back.” Hotch sighed. “What do we know so far?” 
He leaned against a nearby table, looking at everyone with the hope of reassessing the case from a different angle. The hope of talking it out to get some answers. 
Another woman’s body had been found just before they arrived, and that would mean that the UnSub would be out hunting again soon. This was both good and bad. 
Good, because the UnSub clearly had to spend a lot of time stalking his victims - he knew a lot of details of their lives, and he had spent a lot of time developing an intimate fantasy of being a part of their family in his mind. So he wouldn’t be killing again the next day. No woman was in immediate danger. It gave the team more time to find viable suspects. 
Bad because they had no physical evidence, no good leads. And thus far, the profile was leading them nowhere. It felt incomplete. 
They could find no real connections between the victims - their gyms, their banks, their childcare, their grocery stores. Somehow, the victims didn’t seem to have any crossover in their lives. There was no real way to say how the UnSub had met them. And someone like this - he would have interacted with them at least once in order to become obsessed and stalk them to this degree. 
“Five women dead within the last three years.” Prentiss announced, starting to round up the facts that the team knew for certain. “All of them mothers, all with children under the age of five. All within the same ten square mile radius of Oregon, around Portland’s suburban neighborhoods.” 
She slumped back into her chair with a tired huff, and then continued. 
“The UnSub breaks into their homes through a backdoor or a back window, and somehow goes undetected in such an upscale neighborhood.” She sighed. “He kills the mothers, but he leaves their children alive. And then he calls 9-1-1 to report the death as a case of child neglect.” 
“So he was likely neglected by his own mother in his childhood.” Morgan easily theorized. 
“All of the victims upper-middle class, single mothers to one child with good jobs. All of them are of the same physical type.” Rossi added on. “They’re the same race, they have the hair color, they’re the same body type - all in their late twenties to early thirties. So the UnSub definitely has a type. He’s most definitely recreating a fantasy of some kind - perhaps taking out revenge on his own mother, but protecting himself. Which is why he never hurts the children.” 
“Yeah, but the children are different.” Morgan replied. “Sometimes boys, sometimes girls. Some of them are biracial - he doesn’t look for a specific type in the father. He doesn’t necessarily need to see himself in the children.” 
Then, as another thought occurred to him, Morgan continued on: 
“Plus, the children’s ages vary from barely a year old all the way up to five - if he was looking to seek revenge on his mother, looking to protect a younger version of himself, then he would have locked in on a critical event that he needs to protect himself from. The age of the children would be more consistent, at least, because he would be looking to protect himself as he hits the age that he was most traumatized by a specific event.” 
“That’s good.” Hotch nodded. “Then we know that it’s more about the mothers. He hates women at his core. Protecting the children is just a byproduct of his obsession over these women.” 
“But we still have no clue how these women could be connected or how they met the UnSub.” Morgan replied, jaw stiff with frustration. 
“Focus on what we do know.” Hotch reminded him. 
“All of the women were killed via stabbing. They all had over a dozen stab wounds to their stomachs and genital areas.” Rossi replied. “So, he is an aggressive sexual sadist.” 
“But if he hates women so much, why spend so much time in the house?” Morgan argued gently. “Every single one of these scenes has evidence that the UnSub spent hours - possibly up to a day in the house before he killed them. He cooked dinner, set the table, and made the women eat it before he killed them. Including a second place setting for a child. Some of the kids even said that ‘the scary man’ tucked them into bed and read them a story.” 
He held up one of the crime scene photos that depicted the scene of the family’s place settings - a haunting scene of plates not cleaned up from dinner, with a flower vase sitting in the middle of the table with a few white flowers wilting inside of it. 
“He’s right - why bother to show them the kindness of a last meal if he shows so much aggression toward them during the killing?” Prentiss added on. 
“It’s a routine.” Hotch said, the thought suddenly occurring to him. “It’s likely that he chooses single mothers because he gets to play the role of the father. With the real father figure absent from the picture, it makes it easier for him to impose himself into that role. At least for a temporary amount of time.” 
“It is strange.” Reid added on, clearly swimming in thought. “It’s almost like he’s courting them? Sending them gifts, showing what a good father he could be. Each of the women were sent white carnations sometime in the days before they were killed, and after the killing, he lays the flowers around their head in a halo-like fashion. It is said that carnations represent motherhood, and the white shade could depict an angelic innocence that he’s projecting onto these women.” 
“So he views these women as angelic figures, yet he kills them so brutally?” Prentiss scoffed. “It just doesn’t add up.” 
“Maybe he views the killing itself as a type of purification.” Reid theorized. “It’s not uncommon for killers to emotionally fetishize dead bodies and consider them more ‘pure’ than their living counterparts.” 
Prentiss visibly cringed at this. 
“Wait.” JJ said, looking at one of the crime scene photos with a sharp line pulling her brows together. 
Everyone looked to her, waiting for her to finish this thought. 
“I don’t think that the mothers were the only ones sent gifts.” 
She held up the photo, showing a picture of a colorful child’s play mat in the living room. Everyone stared at the photo in confusion, and JJ sighed and began to explain. 
“Look at this toy truck in the middle.” She said, pointing at something that almost blended into the background of the photo. The true focus was a large handprint - one that belonged to the killer, but he had worn gloves. “It’s wooden, it’s hand-carved, it’s old fashioned. All the other toys are plastic, brightly coloured. Remember what the UnSub said in the second 9-1-1 call?” 
“‘She pretends to have her son’s best interests at heart, but she was going to let him get cancer from sucking on those cheap plastic toys.’” Reid said, repeating it word-for-word, using his impeccable memory. 
“Exactly.” JJ confirmed with a nod. “Clearly the UnSub believes that he would be a good father because he can gift his child something hand-made instead of something mass produced.” 
“Alright, get the crime scene techs back over there to pick up the truck, maybe he wasn’t wearing gloves when he made it and there is some slim chance he left a print on it.” Hotch said, and JJ left to call the crime scene unit. 
This left the team sitting in silence for a few more moments until Reid spoke up again. 
“What about preschools?” He said, suddenly coming out of a wave of thought to announce this to the room. 
“What?” Prentiss prompted, wondering what on earth he was talking about. 
“Preschools.” Spencer confirmed, looking across the table at her. 
“We checked already, none of the victims’ children went to the same preschool.” Morgan reminded him. “Two of the kids didn’t even go to preschool.” 
“Yeah, but preschools typically have large waitlists.” Spencer argued. 
Naturally, all eyes in the room fell on him, waiting for him to explain. 
“In the first 9-1-1 call, the UnSub said that the victim ‘shipped her son off to be cared for by strangers half the time’.” He explained, once again perfectly reciting this from memory. “What if the UnSub resents preschools and the schooling system for taking these children away from their mothers, so he’s choosing his victims off of a preschool waitlist? What if that’s where his obsession stems from because that’s where his rage stems from?” 
Reid jumped up, pointing to the map he had been using to make a geographical profile. 
“All of the victims live within the same school district.” He added on. “So they would be applying to the same group of preschools.” 
“I’ll call Garcia.” Morgan announced. 
A few minutes later, Morgan connected Garcia’s call to the comm on the center of the conference table they were working from. 
“Hey, pumpkin pies.” She greeted them sweetly, as usual. “So it turns out, the preschool that Tommy Laird, and Emily Ashton, the third and the fourth victim had in common, does have a waitlist. But none of the other victims’ names were on it.” 
“Come on, babygirl. I know you’re holding out on me.” Morgan said, giving a small smirk. 
“Oh, my Adonis, if I don’t have your trembling anticipation, I have nothing.” Garcia giggled. “The school’s waitlist, and their applications, are handled by a firm called Gordon & Stanheight. And it turns out, they handle the applications and waitlisting for five other preschools in the area.” 
“Which gives the UnSub a perfect way to pick his victims.” Morgan sighed. “The first interaction that gets him hooked might not even be in person-” 
“Unless he’s picking them out of the line-up on paper and then waiting to meet them in person?” Prentiss replied. “With this type of guy, the smallest smile, a nod in his direction - that could be consent in his mind to play father to a household that’s missing one.” 
“You said they handle forms for five different schools? That just widened the victim pool.” Rossi groaned. 
“And the suspect pool.” Garcia added on. “The firm has thirty male employees. And I did a bit more digging - the preschool applications have ten ‘optional’ questions on the bottom that are definitely not marked as such. Questions directed at the parent filling out the form, rather than vital information about the child. Things such as: ‘what’s your favorite food?’, ‘when is your birthday?’, ‘what’s your favorite color?’, ‘do you plan on having more children?’ - typical survey schlock,” 
“That would explain why the UnSub served Lisa Laird a birthday cake.” Reid sighed. “He knew it was her birthday two days before he killed her.”
“I have a feeling I’m not gonna like where this is going.” Emily sighed. 
“Oh, sugar. You probably won’t.” Penelope easily agreed. “The ‘optional’ part of the forms is sold off to other companies as survey data. And those forms are seen and handled by over a thousand male employees of Gordon & Stanheight’s larger ‘data processing’ sector.” 
“Well the UnSub has to be local to Portland. So narrow down the suspect list based on his last known address and go from there.” Hotch said. “Also, it would be someone who has a criminal record. Someone committing this level of violence wouldn’t be a first time offender.” 
“Gotcha.” Penelope said. “Penny G, out.” 
… 
The team ended up raiding Gordon & Stanheight’s Portland based office. 
After some pointless conversation, some threats of lawsuits, and some even larger threats of being detained for impeding an FBI investigation, the team was able to get their hands on the preschool applications. Over two-dozen boxes worth, that they would have to sort through. 
So this left JJ, Reid, Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss knee deep in paper, looking for anyone who fit the UnSub’s victimology - praying that they would be able to pick out the next victim and get to her before the UnSub did. 
“We’re never gonna get through these fast enough, are we?” Prentiss sighed, continuing to sift through the papers. 
“We just have to go as fast as we can, and hope the UnSub sticks to his schedule.” Morgan replied. “He has to spend time stalking them, learning their routine. Even if he has chosen his victim by now, he won’t break into the house until he’s fully confident that he won’t be disrupted.” 
“And the stalking helps build up the fantasy.” Reid added on. “He romanticizes them from afar, sends them gifts. It adds to his delusions of grandeur and forbidden love. The idea that he’s swooping in to become the perfect father figure for these ‘broken’ families.” 
“So we’re hanging all our hopes on the idea that this psychopath needs time to ‘fall in love’ with his next victim before he kills her?” Prentiss groaned. 
“Sadly, yes.” Rossi confirmed. 
“It helps that most of these applications are from two-parent households.” JJ pointed out. “We can throw out anything with a second applicant on the form, because he’s only targeting single mothers.” 
The rest of the conversation easily became quiet in Spencer’s ears when he saw it. 
It should have been just another page among the sea of paper in his hands, but when he saw those words on the page - that name - it was like a punch to the gut. It pushed all the air out of him in seconds, it made him dizzy, made him struggle to breathe. Like a reel flashing through his mind, it brought back a flood of memories he thought he had locked away forever. 
It was you. 
What the hell were you doing applying for preschools? 
Spencer rushed to tear this paper away from the others in order to read it more carefully. 
Surely enough, the application was filled out in your handwriting. Something that had barely changed over the years. And it was all right there, laid out in front of his eyes, clear as day - 
You had a son. 
A son named Sebastian, who was three years old. Spencer checked the date on the form, eagerly looking for a birth date for your son. His birthday had just recently passed, actually, so he was four years old now. 
And his birth date was… fuck. 
He had been born eight and a half months, almost nine months exactly after the two of you had broken up. Your son had been born eight and a half months after the day you had left and Spencer had never seen you again. 
One thousand, seven hundred and two days. 
Four years, eight months, and two days. 
It wasn’t difficult math. 
Your son was the perfect age to be Spencer’s child. Was this Spencer’s child? 
His hands began to shake at the very thought of it.  
Is that why you had disappeared from his life with such haste? Because you knew that you were pregnant and you didn’t want Spencer to be a part of your child’s life? 
Had you been keeping this from him intentionally? 
He hadn’t thought about you in four long years, he had tried so hard not to. He had spent so long forcing himself not to miss you, and now he was struck with the realization that he might have a child out there with the woman he considered to be his regrettable lost love. A child he didn’t know - a child who he had missed four whole years with. 
What the fuck was going on? 
There were no pictures included with the application, and suddenly, Spencer found himself dying to see the boy. He wanted to know if there was any physical resemblance to himself, or if he was jumping to conclusions. 
Maybe you had cheated on him. Maybe that was why you had left town and never contacted him again. Maybe the kid wasn’t his at all, maybe- 
“Reid.” JJ called out gently, getting his attention. 
Spencer suddenly realized that he was hyperventilating, staring down at the application with your name on it in his hand, wrinkling the paper as he squeezed it more frantically. 
“Did you find something?” 
… 
All in all, the team found four different women who fit the victim pattern in the files - you being one of them. 
So the team split up, ready to knock on each of the womens’ doors, preparing to warn them that if they received any gifts or saw any suspicious men lingering around them in the next few days, they should call. They had to hope that the UnSub wouldn’t move on from this victim pool if he saw the FBI around. But he was overly confident, he had contacted police before. 
It could definitely work. 
When Hotch found out that Spencer had known you, he said that Spencer should be the one to knock on your door. That you might find it comforting to hear that you and your child could possibly be in danger if it were coming from ‘an old friend’. Spencer stuttered over himself and didn’t have the words to explain that you weren’t just a good friend to him, but a romantic flame. He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of the team by telling everyone that the break-up had been messy, and sudden, and Spencer still wasn’t even completely sure what had caused it. He didn’t want to rip open his old wounds in front of everyone. 
So he simply shut his mouth and got in the car with JJ, and they made their way toward your house. 
“So…” JJ’s voice broke through the undulating silence of the car ride - filled by nothing but the sound of the car’s motor running and gears grinding inside Spencer’s mind as he tried to figure all of this out. “I do have to ask the obvious question,” 
“What is that?” Spencer probed, slightly glad to be relieved of his own thoughts. 
He wasn’t so glad when JJ pried those thoughts out of his mind and spilled them to the open air. 
“Is the kid yours?” She wondered aloud. “I mean - when did you and Y/N break up?” 
JJ had known you as Spencer’s girlfriend. 
Come to think of it, she was probably the only person on the current field team who had some kind of a relationship with you back when you and Spencer dated. 
Initially, it had been by accident. JJ had driven him home one night after a particularly long and sleepless case, and you had been coming to his apartment to drop off some books he had asked for (shortly after he had given you a key). When JJ saw you, her natural curiosity got the better of her - even more so when you stuck out your hand and introduced yourself as ‘Spencer’s girlfriend’ without hesitation. 
The two of you got to talking, and JJ invited you to ‘girls night’. You met Elle and Penelope shortly after. You had become pretty good friends with the three of them before the break-up. 
But Spencer had always felt secretive…. well, protective of you. He didn’t want Morgan teasing him about you, or him wanting to have ‘guy talk’ about things that occurred in the bedroom. Not when it might mean talking about intimate moments with you. Spencer had only introduced you to Gideon over coffee about three weeks before the break-up, and that felt like a lifetime ago. 
Back then, having you, Elle, and Gideon leave his life all in a matter of a few months felt like hell on earth. It felt like being grabbed by his ankles and shaken for all he was worth. He really wasn’t sure that he was ready to see you again. 
It had been four years. 
JJ was someone he could lean on right now. 
“Four years ago.” He told her, completely honest. 
“And how old is the kid?” JJ asked. 
“Four - four years old.” Spencer stuttered out, realizing that now as he was speaking about this very real possibility, he might be breathing more life into it. 
“Oh my god.” JJ sighed. “Well… could it-? I mean…? Did the two of you?” 
It took Spencer a moment to clue into what JJ was talking about. He gave her a sideways glance and she took her eyes off the road for a moment, raising her brows and giving him a pointed look. 
“Please tell me you know what does and what doesn’t make a baby,” JJ groaned. 
“Oh!” Spencer huffed, a small wave of embarrassment flooding him. “Yes! God, yes. I know.” 
There was a moment of awkward silence, and then Spencer felt the need to clarify his answer. 
“We - I mean. We…” He trailed off for a moment, clearing his throat. “We didn’t always use… protection. We were together for three years, at the time, it was on the table.” 
“Kids were on the table for you back then?” JJ asked, clearly shocked by this. “I could not imagine little twenty-four year old Spence with a baby.” 
“Well… it’s something I’ve always wanted.” He mumbled quietly in reply. 
It was true. At the time, Spencer easily imagined himself getting married to you, having multiple kids with you. These days, seeing JJ with Henry and Will brought him the occasional underlying pang of jealousy - but since breaking up with you, there hadn’t been anyone else in Spencer’s life that he could have imagined having kids with. He thought that he was going to be alone and childless for the rest of his life. That the dream was long dead for him. 
“Hey - then, maybe this is a blessing in disguise?” JJ posed. “If we hadn’t been looking through those forms because of this UnSub, you never would have found Y/N again. You wouldn’t even know this baby exists.” 
There was another thing that JJ was dying to ask - something she held back because she felt like it was a touch too personal. (Even if ‘too personal’ was basically how the BAU team lived - knee deep in each other’s business, all the time). 
She wanted to know why you had a baby, a baby that Spencer had very likely fathered, and you hadn’t contacted him about it. Spencer seemed entirely clueless about the child’s existence before now, and JJ knew that because of what his own father had been like, he wouldn’t just blow off a kid that was his if he knew that one was out there in the world. 
So why hadn’t you told Spencer about the baby? 
“What if the kid isn’t yours?” JJ wondered aloud. 
Maybe that would unburden him. She knew that either way, Spencer would fight to protect you from the UnSub. But if the kid wasn’t his - he would walk away again, and he wouldn’t have to be hung up on the heartbreak of dealing with his ex just to parent a child together. 
“Honestly… I think I’ll be more heartbroken if I find out that he’s not even mine.” Spencer told her, his voice quiet and already lulling with that disappointment. 
That was not something JJ had considered. She frowned as she saw the sadness paint across Spencer’s face. 
“One thing at a time, alright?” 
When they pulled into your driveway, Spencer’s mind immediately began churning. 
It was a nice house. It was a beautiful, quiet neighborhood. The front yard was clean and trimmed and there was a silver SUV in the driveway with a ‘baby on board’ sticker in the rear window. There was a rocking chair on the porch, but he didn’t see many children’s toys out front on the lawn. He guessed that was a good thing. Letting children play in the front where they could run into the street and potentially get hit by a car was too dangerous. He was glad to already see signs that you were a good mother. 
Spencer felt like he was opening up a book halfway, desperately wanting to be filled in on the previous chapters while having missed so much. Still wanting to read ahead and see more. 
He had already missed so much of your son’s life. He had missed you. That was something forming the biggest knot in his gut. He had truly missed you. The times he had allowed himself to think of you over these past few years - he had missed you so dearly. 
And now the two of you likely had a child together. 
Craning his neck to get a better look, desperately trying to take in more information, Spencer’s eyes were wide and hungry as JJ put the car in park by the curb in front of your house. As Spencer reached for the passenger side door handle, JJ’s phone rang. 
“I have to take this.” She sighed. “You go ahead.” 
She gave Spencer a distinct look that said ‘I know you need a minute alone with Y/N’, and he nodded, stepping out of the vehicle while she greeted whoever was on the other line. He smoothed down his tie - for once in his whole life, he was actually worried about how he looked. Only because he knew that he was going to see you. Perhaps he had only ever felt like this before going on his first date with you. 
He had such a strange lashing of emotions going through him as he approached the door. Fear, anxiety, anticipation. Longing. 
He truly had tried so hard to lock away his feelings for you when you had left. He had tried to move on. He had considered, briefly, in passing, dating other women. There had been times when someone else caught his eye, and he considered asking her out on a date. Morgan had offered to ‘set him up’. Penelope had offered too, telling him that he deserved to ‘get back out there’. 
Whenever she asked about you, his heart freshly cracked open. 
At one point, she had advised him to write a long, Shakespearian letter, pouring out his heart to you in an effort to get you back - one which she would mail. (Because of course, she could get your new address in a heartbeat.) But he didn’t want to experience the heartbreak all over again if you ignored him. He didn’t want to sit, waiting by the mailbox every single day like a lost dog, waiting for you to write him back in return. 
You had disappeared from his life for a reason. Just like everyone else had. For a long time, Spencer convinced himself that he was simply meant to end up alone. 
Perhaps if he had known about your son - a child that could very well be his - then he might have felt differently about getting Penelope to contact you. 
But now he was standing at your front door, his fist shaking as he raised his hand to knock. 
He let out a sharp breath and steadied himself, giving three swift, firm knocks against the door and then trying to wait patiently. His heart thumped inside of his throat, and it felt like forever. 
“Sorry!” Your voice called out from behind the door, muffled. “Sorry, I almost didn’t hear you. I was-” 
You cut off your own words as you opened the door - the moment you caught Spencer’s eye and recognized it was him, pure shock fell across your features, and you froze on the spot. 
You were just as stunning as ever. You had barely aged at all - your hair was different than the last time he had seen you, of course. And you were dressed casually - wearing a simple hooded sweatshirt with a drawstring and a pair of jeans with some fuzzy slipper boots on. But pale blue looked so good on you.
So much like the pale blue dress you had worn on your first date with him. 
You were breath-taking. 
“Y/N.” He greeted you, his throat dry already. 
You didn’t say anything, simply continuing to stare him down with wide-eyed shock. 
Seeing you again, Spencer couldn’t help but to think back to that first date. 
The first night that he knew he was in love with you. 
… 
He had taken you to see the Virginia Symphony Orchestra. 
It was Spencer’s idea of a good time - and it ended up being one of the most beautiful, most romantic, most unique first dates that you had ever been on. 
It was difficult not to fall for him with the beautiful music in the air and his glossy eyes, so sickeningly thick with affection, staring you down all night. 
Afterwards, the two of you stopped to get ice cream at a small shop that was a short walk down from the orchestra. And now you were both enjoying your ice cream as you walked along in the cool night air - enjoying the peace and quiet and the gentle breeze in the darkness. 
It was a perfect night. 
Spencer could think of no better way to spend it than with you. The yellow bulbs of the street lights practically cast a glow onto your skin, the mulberry lipstick now worn off your lips as you brought the pink spoon to your mouth and licked up your sweet treat. 
His stomach was churning with nerves. Joyous nerves. 
And as per usual, when he was nervous - he rambled. 
“You know, Bach actually married his cousin.” He said, spouting off the first thing that came to mind. 
You told him that Bach was one of your favorite composers - it’s why he had thought to bring you to the orchestra on a date in the first place. 
“I did not know that.” You giggled. “So what? Was it like a ‘third cousin twice removed’ type situation?” 
Spencer found himself grinning at the fact that you actually engaged him in the conversation, rather than staring at him with an odd look for bringing up such a strange topic. 
“Not quite.” He replied. “They had the same surname before marriage.” 
“Oh, ew.” You chuckled again, giving a shudder at the thought of this. 
Spencer knew it was an odd topic to discuss on a date, and if he rambled on too much, it might freak you out - but he couldn’t stop himself. His mouth ran away with him, and he continued. 
“He married Maria Barbara Bach, and they had seven children together.” He told you. “His sons, Wilhelm Friedemann and Carl Philipp Emanuel became composers and musicians much like their father, which was actually carrying on a legacy started by Bach’s father himself - who was a seventh generation musician. He was the one who taught Bach the organ from a very young age.” 
“Why don’t people play the organ anymore?” You wondered aloud. “Except in churches, I guess. The organ rocks.” 
Spencer’s brain began rocketing off at the fact that you had asked him a question. A question he could answer. 
“The organ has actually long been associated with divinity.” He replied. “The instrument rose in popularity alongside Catholicism throughout the eighteenth century, and in a sense, that was part of what made Bach a sort of ‘rockstar’ of his time. The religious references in his work, and his mastery of the organ - all of it made him incredibly popular at the time because it caused him to be favored by the church and by royal figures associated with the church.” 
Spencer gleamed a large smile, heavily enjoying that he could share these facts with you. He thought for certain that any moment, you would change the subject or imply that he should stop talking. But instead, you engaged the conversation more. 
“Religious references?” You questioned, wondering what he meant by this. 
“Yes!” Spencer grinned, suddenly very excited by the explanation behind this. “Even in his secular music, Bach would often incorporate the acronym ‘INJ’, a Latin abbreviation that means ‘In Nomine Jesu’, or ‘in the name of Jesus’. It was something he put on all of his manuscripts.” 
You grinned back. You found it fascinating that being around Spencer for such short periods of time caused you to learn so many things. It easily made you want to be around him more. 
“Interesting.” You replied. 
“And his talent on the organ was seen as something that made him ‘divine’ at the time. Divine enough to be worthy of performing for royalty.” Spencer added on. “In 1708, Bach got a position as the court organist in Weimer for Duke Wilhelm. And later when he requested early release from this position, desiring to go work for Prince Leopold of Koethen, the Duke actually had him arrested and put in jail for several weeks in 1716.” 
Spencer laughed at this mental image - the composer being put in jail. 
“Ooh, harsh.” You sighed. “But I guess Dukes have too much power.” 
Spencer let out another bright laugh at this. 
“And see, the interesting thing is, Bach later became the conductor of the court orchestra, in which Prince Leopold played.” 
“So he got his wish,” You replied with a smile. 
“And see-” 
Spencer set off on another rant again, and you couldn’t help yourself. You put your spoon into the cup of ice cream and then you used your now free hand to reach out and grab Spencer by his tie - you pulled him toward you before he could get anymore words out, and he let out a shocked, choked-off sound when you pressed your mouth into his. 
He sighed gently against your lips, and unconsciously dropped his own melting chocolate cone on the ground by his feet as his limp hands drifted toward your waist. He was dizzy, and now every single fact he had ever known about any composer had vanished from his head. In that moment, standing under a random street lamp on a random sidewalk somewhere - all he knew was the soft, pillowy feeling of your lips and the cool night breeze against his skin. 
It was perfect. You were perfect. 
You found his intelligence and the enthusiasm with which he spoke to be so utterly irresistible. You had been on so many dates with men before where they had acted like talking about their interests was a chore. Where they had made it seem like the whole thing was simply a routine, waiting for the end of the night so they could get into your pants. And for them, that’s what it probably was. 
But Spencer was nothing like that. 
He spoke about everything with such intense passion - and you couldn’t resist the urge to try and suck that very passion off his lips. 
When you were forced to pull back slightly, your lungs crying out for oxygen, Spencer let out a gentle moan and began puffing out sweet little pants across your chin as he tried to catch his breath. You kept a hold of his tie, wanting to keep him close, and he stayed there, gently pressing his forehead against yours. 
“That was… wow.” He sighed. 
“I didn’t think I would ever find you at a loss for words, Doctor Reid.” You replied with a giggle. 
“Well, I - you - wow.” 
It was all he could muster, causing you both to break down into laughter. 
Back then - everything had been perfect. 
He had no clue where it all went so wrong.
...
Continue reading: Chapter Two - Liar
2K notes · View notes
taintedcigs · 28 days
Text
— late night blues
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pairing: roommate bsf!eddie munson x f!reader
summary: you can’t seem to sleep, so eddie offers to drive you around, but you have something else in mind that can make you relax and help you fall asleep faster; his fingers. (wc: 3.1k+)
author's note: not proofread. entirely self-indulgent. and normally i would gaf about interactions but i literally dont rn. i needed this <3 and for all my insomniacs out there... i appreciate u and i am u. hope this is like a warm/horny hug to all of u as much as it is to me. bc i need it desperately. the ending is kinda rushed i am so v sorry. pleaseeee reblog to support me. ty!! mwah.
Hogging the blanket you sank deeper into the couch, the light illuminating from the TV screen enough to have you squinting, but never enough to lull you into sleep.
You huff, impatiently, trying to shut off the voices in your head, thoughts swirling around everywhere and anywhere, making it impossible to let you embrace the sweet sleep you so desperately need.
"Why are you awake?" A low groan of Eddie's voice almost startles you, slight gasp leaving your lips, making you sit up straight with a deep breath.
"Couldn't sleep," you shrugged, "didn't wanna wake you."
"Should've," he grumbles, stomping on his way next to you, "y'know I can't sleep knowing you're awake, right?" A lazy smile is placed on his lips when he slouches right next to you.
The couch sinks with the impact and so does your stomach, the implications of his words not going unnoticed, the two of you have always been close, too fucking close to being considered as just friends.
Yet, none of you ever made any effort.
And you were growing tired of it, because, shit, did you like him. And a part of you, as well as everyone else in the gang kept teasing you about, told you he liked you too. Just waiting to be pushed.
"Wanna smoke?" He asked with a hum, "might help you sleep better." The brunette placed a lazy kiss on your forehead, another act the two of you always did, affectionate, too affectionate to be just friends, yet none of you ever dwelled on it, despite it leaving your entire body on fire in its wake, and Eddie's stomach churn with delight as you always smiled up at him. Sweet, almost peaceful, making you nod quietly, looking so fatigued that his chest ached for you.
"Was t'tired... couldn't roll one." You point toward the mess on the coffee table, grinder open with strains stuck in it, crumpled-up rolling papers, and a bunch of filters sprawled everywhere.
"How about we take a drive, princess?" He asks with a slight tilt of his head, the pad of his thumb slowly circling your face, tender and making you melt into him.
You shake your head quickly, not wanting to bother him in any way. "Eds, it's too late, I don't want you to-"
But he's quick to scoff. "Don't be ridiculous."
"Eddie, I mean it, we can just smoke this here and-" He tuts you quickly, already getting up, his Garfield sweatpants fully in view, making you giggle.
He takes your hand in his, dragging you while you huff and puff. "Grab a jacket or one of my hoodies, and let's fuckin' roll, honey."
Once you throw over one of his oversized hoodies, he almost carries you to the car, not wanting you to lose that sleepy state, knowing that it'd be hard for you to get it back.
You buckle your seatbelt, just watching him in his groove, head falling into the headrest as you admire him rolling a joint so quickly that it makes your head spin. "How the fuck can you do that?" You groan, "'s not fair." A pout overtakes your lips, causing him to grin. He wants to kiss it away, yet all he does is tuck the strands of your hair that are covering your features, turning your lips into a mellow smile, matching his.
"Well it helps if you were a dealer in high school." He rambles, a hearty giggle escaping from your lips, "I'll teach you some time too, honey, promise." You nod in acceptance, and another kiss is planted on your forehead, one you happily accept, let his warmth overtake your skin, eyes glazy and lidded as you look up at him, sleep deprivation so apparent in your face that it tugs at Eddie's heartstrings, seeing you this miserable. And not being able to do anything about it. Yet.
Quickly retrieving the lighter from his back pocket, he places the rollie on his lips, letting the igniting flame heat it quickly, sizzling sound as he inhales a small huff before passing it onto you calming you further.
You suck on it with a hum, watching the way Eddie quickly turns on the ignition, windows rolled down, the same relaxing tape playing over and over again, volume dimmed, Good Feeling by Violet Femmes serves as a background drop, one of your favorite songs, and of course, Eddie knows it.
The velvety dark sky steals your attention as you once again suck on the fragrant joint gently cradled between your fingers. Letting it engulf and numb you, for your bloodshot eyes to have a reason other than being restless.
A gentle breeze whispers through the cranked windows, rustling your hair in front of your face, making you giggle lightly. Three puffs, and you are already feeling giddy, "not too strong is it?" he asks, glancing at you with the biggest grin on his face, amber hues watching you intently.
"Nuh-uh," you hum, and his hand tenderly droops down to your thighs, giving you three gentle squeezes as a form of comfort. At least, he intends it to be for comfort.
But all you can think about is how thick and warm his fingertips are, cladded rings bringing a coldness that makes you hiss, tummy doing a flip as your hazy mind craves more.
It is the last piece of the puzzle you need to finally fall into that deep slumber, Eddie making you cum on his long fingers, curling inside of you, rings slicked with your juices, it's all you can think about.
You whine at your thoughts, throat growing dry at them, not knowing if it is cotton mouth or how stunning Eddie looks while focused on the road.
The perfect side profile that you can't help but admire; chiseled jaw with the slightest stubble that you'd do anything to have it rubbing against your clit right about now, Adam's apple bobbing slightly the more he gulped, lips plushy and so soft that you wanted nothing more than to bite into them, have them suckling your neck.
Fuck, this could be it, couldn't it?
You were already a bit dizzy, giving you enough courage to ask him to, and if he rejected you, you could always just turn it into a joke, couldn't you?
You rasp a desperate breath when his hands squeeze your thigh again, prominent veins making you mewl. His head cocks towards you in worry at the sound, "you okay?"
You barely register his words, gaze too focused on the tempting hold he has on you, "hmm?"
He quirks a brow, a smirk playing on his lips when he realizes how hazed you are, "are you hungry or something, sweetheart?"
Yeah, you were. Hungry for him.
You shake your head slightly. "You sure?" He asks, more attentive, and you can feel your wetness pool around your thighs, slicking you.
"Mhmm," you reply, head turning to meet his gaze, and when he slightly tilts his head, his shaggy bangs fall onto his forehead, making you gulp physically, he looks beautiful.
"Do you want anything?"
If he was any more attentive, you were going to crawl into his lap and grind on his bulge that hugged the print of Garfield on his sweatpants, "Nope," you gulped, prying your eyes away from the outline of his huge cock forcefully.
"Need anything?"
"You." The words slipped past your lips without any interference from you, it's like your subconscious was doing all the talking you had been so afraid of.
The insomnia and weed becoming a dangerous combo.
He choked out a laugh, cheeks crimson red, spreading across his bone like crushed raspberries. "Hah, funny aren't ya?"
He avoided your gaze, yet your head snapped to meet his. "Eddie- I-I mean it."
"Sweetheart," he mumbled, a low groan awaiting in his throat.
Doe-eyed, melting, and pleading hues finally met his. "P-please, Eddie, need it so bad, need to cum, relax," you coaxed, hand placed on his, squeezing it back, causing a drawl of sigh out of him.
He can't bring himself to ease into your touch, his lips quivering at the thought of finding you soaking for him, "Honey, you're high," he tries to reason, voice squeaky pitch, he wants it, so goddamn bad, but he can't take advantage of you in any way.
You huff, disagreeingly. "Oh, c'mon, Eddie, I just took like three huffs, you know I'm not a lightweight!"
"Sweetheart, I know but it doesn't feel right-"
"But I'm begging you to!" Your pleading voice crushes him, cock stirring just at your squeaky tone, you're going to be the fucking death of him.
"Y-you have no idea how fucking stupid I feel for turning you down when all I want to-" He sighed. "I don't wanna do anything that you might regret."
You huff at that, does he not realize how desperately you want him? How badly you have wanted him all this time?
"Fuck, Eddie, just-" Fingertips graze his once you grab his rough hands, they are powerless in your hold, and you're quick to dip them down your pajamas, rubbing them against your cotton panties that are now entirely soaked with your juices. "Do you feel that?" Your voice is shaky, and low groans rumble in his chest, his focus on the road becoming dizzy.
It feels surreal, you begging for him, for his fingers, how wet your panties feel just because of him. His brain can't comprehend a thought, your name slipping past his lips like prayers.
He can't help but press his hand further against your panties, just to feel more of you, cock straining against his own cage of boxers, knuckles white from the harsh grip he has on the steering wheel.
And you can see the desperation in his eyes, spurring you more and more. "How fucking wet I am just because you squeezed my thigh? Do you think I'd regret anything when I'm this soaked for you?"
He can't help it, roaring the engine again before he abruptly comes to a stop on the side of the road, his mind too dizzy to comprehend anyfuckingthing. "Fucking christ, baby, I-"
You interrupt him again, head lulling to his side, giving him those desperate, lewd eyes again. "I've wanted this for so fucking long, Eddie, p-please, you said you'd help me sleep... relax, I'm more than okay with it."
You know he's on the verge of caving in, he wants this as much as you do. "Angel..." he mumbles, tone so pornographically lustful that you feel the need to show him how much you want him.
You shove his hands inside of your panties in frustration, and he groans lightly at it, fingertips run up and down your slit, never entering your hole, taking his time to fully feel how badly you want him.
He collects your wetness at the tip of his digits, smearing them over the hood of your clit, earning a shallow gasp from you, just enough to break him, "Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, you're soaked," he grunts, eyes watching you hungrily.
"Mhmm, all for you," you hum, head thrown comfortably into the headrest, eyes lulling. He runs his fingertips over your sides, teasing, covering you in your juices, and all you can do is mewl for him.
A digit slips inside of you easily, making you moan so loud that Eddie's cock aches in the confinements of his sweats, admiring the way your mouth gapes at how good his fingers feel. "God, you're perfect like this, princess," he hums, fingertips circling around your clit, knowing exactly what to do to get you worked up.
It makes you whimper pathetically, turns out Eddie really does know you. So much so that all you want to do is cum on his thick fingers, have him take you home, make you bounce on his cock again and again.
He pushes another finger inside of you, watching the way your cunt takes his fingers all greedily. You're the one who's supposed to be high, yet he feels dizzy, so fucking dizzy that he can barely comprehend it.
This is all real, you just begged him to finger you, and now you're mewling on his fingers, pussy throbbing as he stretches you out slowly.
"That's it, baby," he encourages, listening to the sweet sounds of your whimpers, "doin' so good f'me," his praises drive you even crazier, and loud moans escape from your parted lips the more his thumb circles around your clit.
"So greedy, hmm?" He coos condescendingly, relishing in the pretty faces you make, his ring finger joining inside of your soppy cunt easily, "E-Eddie," you mumble, lost in him, fully.
His fingers pump in and out of you at a rough pace, getting you closer and closer to the edge, he can feel your cunt squeezing his ringed fingers desperately.
"You close, angel?" He grunts, and a sheen of heat creeps its way across your chest and up your throat at how good he is, all you can do is nod pathetically, too dizzy and too lost in his fingers to even speak.
You take your plump bottom lip between your teeth in an attempt to stiffle your pathetic moans, but once he adds another finger, cold rings brushing against your clit, you can't help yourself.
"E-Eddie, fuck!" You moan, and he watches in awe, keeps his praises up, eager to see what you look like when you cum. He knows you'll be even prettier, screaming out his name, soaking his fingers in your pretty juices.
Your chest heaves with how much you're feeling him, stuffed full of his fingers, you can't even begin to imagine what his cock would feel like inside of you. Shit, maybe next time.
You pathetically rut your hips into his fingers, and he groans so filthily that your body feels frail, "That's it, baby," he praises. "Use me, honey, use my fingers to get yourself off."
Your face contorts with the sweetest pain and pleasure, his fingers plunged deep inside of you, padded thumb still continuing it's circles. Once his fingers curl inside of you, you know you’re a fucking goner.
Each of his movements, his touch, ignites a fire within you that is heightened by the weed, you are so desperate to cum that you don't even realize how pathetically you've been soaking his fingers, so wet and Eddie relishes in it.
"Oh, f-fuck, I'm gonna cum!" You moan out once you feel that dizzying pleasure bubbling in your chest, he can feel your pussy flutter around his thick fingers, making his chest swell with pride. "Mhmm, just like that, darlin', cum on my fingers."
It's all the confirmation you need before you cry out his name again, back arching as pleasure explodes inside of your stomach, vision growing white and dizzy. Your fucked out face, pathetic moans, and your gaping mouth making Eddie's cock strain tighter and tighter, as if that’s even possible.
His fingers don't leave your soppy cunt until he makes sure you ride your orgasm out, relishing in the pretty expressions your face contorts to as you fall apart for him.
Bringing a stupid wide grin to his face that has you feeling giddier. The weight of what the two of you did doesn't dawn yet, you're too tired, too fucked out to care, and all Eddie can think about is going back to the trailer and rubbing one out while thinking about the pretty sounds you made, the pretty shapes your face took as you came on his fingers. His.
He'll think about how pretty your eyes look rolled all the way back inside of your head when he's slamming into you, cock stuffed inside of you, parted lips repeating his name like a fucking prayer. Your tight cunt fluttered around his cock, milking him dry.
With a groan, he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking clean the remains of you, pathetically groaning at how sweet you taste. You watch him with lulled eyes, breath growing heavier, and if you weren’t about to pass out, you’d beg him for more, have his hard cock stuffed inside of you.
“Tastes so goddamn sweet,” he grunts, licking any taste of you left off his lips, your sweet juices engrained in his tastebuds.
You blink quickly to process all of it, mind numbed out. Fuck, he’s making this so goddamn hard for you.
“E—Eddie,” you say breathlessly, chest heaving as a shy smile appears on your lips, mind hazy as you try to form words. "T-that was amazing, shit."
"Yeah?" He beams, the praise is all he needs. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”
Your eyes glimmered at his words, air between the two of you was charged with a sweet tension. Breaths almost synchronized with the way both of your chests rose and fell on the rhythm of what just fucking happened. And all the feelings that led up to it.
You wanted to talk about it, take this further, maybe even continue back home.
But sleep began to settle inside of you, eyelids betrayed your pent-up feelings for him, already drooping in surrender.
And of course, Eddie knew by the sheepish smile you gave him, you were almost on the brink of sleep, and it was more important than his stupid feelings because the two of you had all the time in the world to talk about... whatever this was, tomorrow.
But if you lost your sleepy state, he knew you'd never get it back, “You sleepy yet?" He asked, thoughtful, caring gaze watching you intently, making you nod.
"Mhmm," you hummed, "But, Eddie..."
"Yeah?" He prompted, eager to soak up each and every one of your words.
"I don't want this to be a one time thing," you admitted, shyly, your heart leaping out of your chest in excitement.
"Thank fucking God." Slipped past his lips unintentionally, causing a hearty giggle to bubble up within you, easing away all of your worries.
Pools of warmth swam in his gaze, fully melting into you. "Me neither, sweetheart," he whispered, starting the car again, engine humming to life.
He met you with a saccharine smile. "But we have all the time to talk about that tomorrow, promise."
It hung in the air, the promise, almost like a warm hug engulfing you. All the confirmation you need.
"You just go to sleep, now, honey, I'll carry you inside," he urged, pressing a light kiss onto your forehead.
"T-thank you," you hummed, resting your head comfortably, deep slumber not taking long to find you while he watched intently, mind still running with thoughts of you.
Both of you had no clue what would happen with this; yet, you were now sure that this wouldn't remain as a one-time thing.
After all, you had a hard time sleeping almost every night, thankfully, you would now have Eddie to fix that.
2K notes · View notes
love-belle · 7 days
Text
every dead end street led you straight to me !!!
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which no one knows how they're both each other's daylight.
or
for when you find the one you were meant to find all along. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚
social media au // f1 drivers x platonic!driver!fem!reader // milo manheim x fem!reader
warnings - language
author's note - i am SO sorry for leaving u all but i had my finals going on and now i am DONE with school i just have my college entrance exams left and then im free free FREEEEEE !!!! i love u all sm thank you <333 i hope u like this !!
≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
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yourusername me n baby boy
edit : he says it's baby MAN i disagree ☝️‼️
11,528 comments
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≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
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liked by yourusername, landonorris, alex_albon and 2,157,816 others
milomanheim ur in her dms i'm on google searching nutrient rich soils i'd keep her in if she was a worm
10,996 comments
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*this comment was deleted*
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≡;- ꒰ °instagram stories ꒱
yourusername added to their close friends' stories
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yourusername there are things (inappropriate stuff) i wanna say to u (my BOYFRIEND) but i'll just let u (my COLLEAGUES) live
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milomanheim something about how taylor swift said every dead end street led u straight to me 💘
tagged yourusername
11,628 comments
username I SCREECHED OH MY GOD
username we knew but OH MY GOD THE REVEAL
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yourusername also about how she said i wanna teach u how forever feels
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-> charles_leclerc give him some time he's buffering
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yourusername my baby's fit like a daydream
-> milomanheim 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️❤️❤️❤️❤️‼️‼️‼️‼️🔥🔥🔥🔥💯💯💯💯🥰🥰🥰🥰☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️
-> username what is happening
-> oscarpiastri just give him some time
yourusername not to be a hopeful romantic loser on the main but i find u in every love song i listen to so yea
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≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
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liked by milomanheim, francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux and 2,785,159 others
yourusername if the whole world was watching i'd still dance with u
tagged milomanheim
12,628 comments
username GOODBYE
username this post right here your honour
username the way i teleported to the railway track
username SCREAMING SJSJTRBCUCJ
username pls block me b4 posting happy stuff (im so happy i cry)
landonorris you can't even order on your own sir DOWN
-> yourusername FUCK UUUUU OMG
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username DRIVE HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS TO BE THERE WITH U
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username they're literally winning in life BOTH OF THEM
username NOT HIM PEELING ORANGES FOR HER IM GONNA SCREAM
username the orange theory is true and it's real because y/n and milo just proved it argue with air
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username IN A WORLD OF BOYS HE'S A GENTLEMAN
*liked by yourusername*
lilymhe with me obviously 🙄
-> yourusername obviously
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-> alex_albon 😧
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username going crazy over these photos like there's SO MUCH content
username y/n feeding us those milo crumbs
-> username nah she gave us whole PLATES with utensils and all ☝️☝️☝️
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-> username nah bc bro doesn't know how to function with her around
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charles_leclerc how is this relationship gonna work when none of you has the guts to go and say that they got your order wrong
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-> charles_leclerc that was classified information
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username i live for y/n terrorizing the grid fueled by nothing but coffee and/or spite
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milomanheim i would peel oranges for u forever dw baby i got u 🍊🍊🍊
-> yourusername this is so sweet i cried stfu
milomanheim cannot believe i get to tell everyone ur my gf like OH MY GOD 😭😭😭
-> yourusername bf
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-> yourusername STOP ASKING
milomanheim wdym i cannot love u more than life itself 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄 lies bc i do love u more than life itself
-> yourusername i would sacrifice max for u
-> milomanheim doesn't mean that much bc i know u would sacrifice him for a juice box
-> maxverstappen1 OH REALLLLLLLLY
milomanheim angel 🍒
-> yourusername no u
milomanheim u make me feel all golden like daylight
-> yourusername u make me feel all i like shiny things but i'd marry u with paper rings
-> username bye y'all this was fun
-> username brb i need to test if my toaster is waterproof or not
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kaciebello · 2 months
Text
Band-aids of death
Masterlist
Luke Castellan x Hades! reader (implied, fem)
Percy Jackson x Hades! reader (platonic)
Summary: Percy meets the bandaid dealer who has his friend so smitten
Warning: Absolutely non, teeth rotting stuff really, no use of y/n
author note: English is not my first language so I am sorry for any mistakes beforehand. I read the books long ago and I'm currently in the process of re-reading them, so some lore might be wrong. Also using what I remember from the show! Proofread by me and me only :(
word count: 1347
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Percy has been in at this camp stuff for a week now and he was just not loving it. From the overcrowded cabin 11 to Clarisse's relentless bugging, he just wanted to go home. This was his home now, yes, but that does not mean he can't yearn for better. And on top of all that, it seems like he's good at absolutely nothing. If there was a competition at being bad at everything he would still somehow end up in second place.
Today was no better. Luke, Counselor of the Hermes cabin, has decided that maybe Percy could take on a sword fight. He couldn't. Not like he could go against the best swordsman in the last 300 years anyway. After what felt like hours, Luke finally gave the boy a break and Percy felt like he could breathe. Only for a second that is, because his friend decided to take him to a new area of the camp.
Walking to a small building only lightly connected to the infirmary was rather ominous. While everywhere in the camp where people, this shack could be abandoned and he would not be surprised. His friend. however, walked faster than normally, seemingly excited to show him what's inside.
They stopped by the open door and Percy could finally see that it was not abandoned and the little two-story house was, indeed, occupied. Looking at his friend with suspicion, who now sports a wide grin on his face, Percy could not help but think there was more to it than Luke said.
Walking in, Luke chimes the bell that sits on the top of the door frame. The girl who, until now, was checking out the shelves of what seems to be medicine and chemicals turns around with a confused look. She wore the same ‘ camp uniform ‘ as everyone else, confirming to Percy that she was one of them as well. Although her shirt seemed to have switched color schemes and was black with an orange print of the camp name.
“ Hello Sweetheart, how's the inventory going?” Luke asks and pushes Percy slightly in front of him, not something he appreciates. The girl, unamused, does not answer his question. Instead, she answers him with her own. “ What brings you here, Castellan? Last time I checked you did not need allergy medication.” Chuckle could be heard from his friend. Percy, not interested in their bickering, looks around the room. Small table by the door with a stack of paper, a black mysterious jar, and what Percy recognizes as an old land-line phone. One wall of the room was just a shelf with what he now knows for sure is medicine with a door at the end. By the window, there was an old medical bed, and next to it, stood, by Percy's standards, an unstable chair.
A hand on his shoulder snaps him out and he turns his head back to the girl. “ So what's wrong with you?” She asks and motions him to sit on what seems to be a more sturdy version of the same chair he just saw. “ Other than that I suck at everything and my father not bothering to claim me? nothing much really.” Laugher was heard from the two older campers. 
“ No, I meant like, why are you here guys? If you were training with Lu here, you might have some scratches.” She points to Luke, who seems to be proud just of the fact that she acknowledges him.  Before he can answer she continues, “Although if you're seriously hurt, maybe you should visit the Apollo kids, I ain’t no nurse, really.”
“ No need for that, we just need some band-aids.” Luke proclaims and pats his chest where his heart is. “ You have bandaids in your cabin, and I know for sure, I saw your siblings steal some. “ she snapped back softly at his friend.’ It's in their nature’ Luke says under his nose and takes a few steps to the girl putting his arm around her shoulders. “ Sweetheart here is a terrible nurse-”
“Hey! I am an excellent necromancer!”
“Too bad that your patient is still alive, Sweets,” Luke argues back at the girl. She just shakes her head and walks behind her desk. Luke follows closely behind her like a magnet was pulling him over. Percy watches as she opens a drawer and pulls out the biggest box of band-aids he has ever seen. “ What kind do you want, em…” She looks at him kinda awkwardly. 
“Percy.” “ Right, Percy, do you want Spiderman band-aid? It's a big hit with the younger campers.” She smiles and pulls out an impressive collection of Spiderman band-aids. “ Ah, no, normal ones are fine.” I watch as a pout appears on her face as she puts them back and starts to look through the box as if looking for something. 
“I want the Spiderman one.” Chimes in Luke who is now leaning over this girl. “ You can get the boring ones, Castellan, I don't care.” It was now Luke's turn to pout. “ What cabin are you from?”  Percy asks, wanting to learn some more about the girl that has his friend so smitten. Her eyes look up at him before going back to her box.
“ I don't have a cabin, I sleep on the second floor. There is a staircase in the back.” She says as it is the most normal thing ever. Which it was, just not in camp half-blood. That confuses Percy, from what he learned at the camp so far, everyone that has been claimed either has a cabin or just sleeps in Hermeses one. So that is exactly why he asks. “ Why don't you sleep in Hermes cabin?” The girl straightens her posture, seeming in thought. His friend hugged her from behind around her shoulders. They remind him of an old married couple. 
“Well, there are cabins for the twelve Olympians. My dad has no throne on Olympus. He kinda does his own thing down under.” “ Australia?” “No Percy, the underworld.” She says though giggles and wiggles herself from the hug. She makes her way forward to Percy and stands in front of him carefully peeling parts of the band-aid. 
“ Your dad is Hades?” Hum leaves her as an answer. Focusing on placing the band-aid right above his eyebrow where he scratched himself earlier during training with Luke. When she's done, she turns to a black jar on her table and opens it. To Percy's surprise, she pulls out a lollipop and gives it to him. “You're good to go fighter, Don't stay here longer than you need to!” She sings and ushers the boy out of the chair and to the door. Percy turns to his friend,
 “ Luke, are you not coming?” he asks waiting for him to answer. Luke gives him a look of fake thought, Percy knows it's fake because he, himself used it many times back at the academy. Luke shakes his head and smiles.
“No, I haven't been treated by my nurse yet.” The girl groans and snaps her head to the sky. Percy just shrugs and walks out of the building. As he opens his lollipop, he turns his head back to look at his friends.
He can see Luke being peppered with kisses on his face. When the girl moves he can see a band-aid with hearts that now decorates the scar on his face. Percy just chuckles and moves on, determined to find Grover or Annabeth to tell them what he witnessed. He failed to notice his bright blue bandaid with bubbles on it.
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