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ask-missparker · 2 months

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I remember you said don't leave me here alone / OUAT AU Series

Pairings: Amelia x Nikolai, Ethan x Liane, Rick x Liane

Friendship: Belladonna St. James & Joshua C. Nolan

Extra Characters: Erik, Cassie, Alexander and etc

-> Special appearance: Introducing Meira as Merida/The Mad Hatter, played by Billie Eilish

Summary: A dark glimmer of hope come in doses, even if it feels like everything is stuck in time. Sometimes you need a push in the right direction..

Warning: Angsty, with some fluff. Some violence here and there.

Note: Inspired by the episode Hat Tricks. And yes, Cherik is canon in every universe hush!

-----

He woke up with his hands tied behind his back.

His ears were ringing, his head hurt worse than the time he finished that English paper for Charles that weekend, and felt a gash on his forehead. He hissed sucking in his breath recognizing one of his lower lip as well. He blinked as it felt like was drugged, as the last thing he remembered was searching for clues on a small upcoming case he had about the stormy woods and the town folks who went camping up there. It was stupid really but he took the chance to clear his head and figure out the next move.

Now he’s stuck in what seems to be a basement.

He was laying on his back, flipping to the side noticing his backpack on the ground a few away from him. He tried inching over huffing and grunting, feeling he must’ve broke a bone during the fall to the floor.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

He hissed as his gaze fell onto a pair of black boots following upwards to face the mayor’s wondering grin. As if he wanted to put together a puzzle but didn’t have the right pieces yet. The boy glared in response trying to wiggle free of the ropes behind his back.

“Wh..” He muttered.

“Oh? Too shocked to speak. Don’t worry I wouldn’t drug my nephew, I mean, I could. But it wouldn’t put on a good impression, would it?” He responded.

“..wh—what do you want from me..” He muttered trying to clear his throat.

“Aw my darling nephew wants answer. See, I hope what I’m about to say finds you in good heath, and in a prosperous enough position to put wealth. In the pockets of men like me who might be down on their luck..you see, that was the darkness in this town you decide to pluck.”

“..you can’t afford to be afraid..”

“Wise words coming from a child.”

It was as if Joshua could see right into his heart. The sadness, jealously and darkness that filled within. It was black, with gushed of red. As if he was lonely and felt underrated against his brother, that his darkness was just a craving of harsh lies he puts himself to sleep with.

Joshua has learned from a long time ago, evil isn’t born. It’s made. The world was cruel, it was your choice to be a hero or a villain in their history. You pick the card and decide how to spin it over it’s head.

Maybe there was a slight bit of hope within that thick wall Alexander hides behind. His thirst for powerful, was a thirst to be seen as an equal, to be as loved and appealing as the others are. Then again, it was just wishful thinking.

“I..is this how you hurt my father?” He asked.

Alexander was pacing around the room then paused not expecting those words to come from him. He took a moment to regain himself as he replied, “You know about that?”

“I heard a thing or two..I’m not going to try and dismiss what you did—what your doing is wrong. Because it is. You have people in this town locked under your finger..but at what cost?”

“..you don’t know everything, Mr. Nolan.”

“I don’t need to..i’ve seen men like you who took care of me before..they do it for the money, for the status, to be seen as something they are not..just to fill the void..”

Alexander gaze fell onto his nephew this time. It was as if those dark blue-green pierced right into his soul, swirling around waiting for an answer. This kid was smart, he’ll give him that much. He saw nothing but kindness and heartbreak behind those eyes, yet a determination that can slice an apple he has in his backyard waiting to be used on anyone for that matter. It was nothing like his brother nor his mother, but his own self.

This child as been across some things, it was hard to tell if he was bluffing or not. As if he was telling the truth, a honest threat waiting to be fired. It was he like see a lot more, like he was sure he will be fine by the end of the day.

He scoffed, “There’s not void, child. You just stumbled into my town and think just because you fixed a few things, you did some good. Sorry to break your glass, but you are nothing. And you will rot in here til something worse happens.”

“You think I’m afraid of you..you afraid that your little town will see right through your lies and come after you? So you lock me up, cause some chaos and spin the bottle..clever..very, very clever..” He replied looking down.

“You really think you’re safe? That your precious little friends and roommate will come find you?”

“…”

“That’s what I thought. Here’s the thing Joshua, your a pathetic exsume for a son, a lousy street kid who has no right to be living in your condition and someone who will never know the truth about himself. But I can ease your thoughts.”

“Hmm..”

“You’re parents, they were nothing. One was a lousy young lady with no right for royal status and the other a weak lad on the run from everything because he was too afraid to face the true. Everyone in this town has their agendas, and your just another spec in the dust of voices here.”

He watched the young man look down, not saying a word seeing a flicker in his eyes trying to not go out and lose that hope. However all Alexander could think was the way Joshua’s eyes pierced into his soul seeing the cracks behind his very own eyes.

As if the boy’s eyes said, ‘your soul may be dark as the pitch black night but there a dose of kindness within than he ever gave credit for.’ It made him sick to his stomach that—that his face spoke more than a thousand words.

It reminded him of his mother before his brother was ever born, believing that there was good in the world and a light inside him despite that darkness that converted him into who he is today. That he had the strength yet vulnerability to stand up to him in the mists of pain made him want to congratulate him, but it was merely pathetic he believed one little thought of confidence could make him turn a leaf.

But then again, he didn’t want to kill the boy. There was no part of him thrust himself into the idea of harming in could led to death, he still wanted him alive and decently well..maybe there was a small inch within him that made him think twice before his actions…

He was brought out of his thoughts as Joshua spoke up, “..what? After me, who’s next on your agenda of victims?..I just feel sorry for you, mister mayor, thinking this will fill that void within..”

He didn’t speak, only slapped his face to keep him quiet. He didn’t need his voice ringing in his ears for the rest of the day, he had more important things to attend to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The doors the station were slammed open, as the soft sounds of grunts and huffing could be heard followed by the whispers of the man in charge. He threw the man into the cell and locked it as he turned around. Nik stepped over as his hands gripped the bars of the cell he was placed into, his face showcased a mix of tiredness and worry.

“I’m telling you, I have no idea where he went! Erik you have to believe me, I haven’t seen in him 24 hours..no calls, no text..I didn’t do anything to him.” He said, banging his against the bar.

Erik stood there with his arms crossed, “Are you sure? How could I know you didn’t drive him away or worse, dragged somewhere deep within the town line, Mr. Hawkins.”

“Do you really think I would harm the kid I have been taking care of for a while now? I have done nothing but provided him a home!”

“Where was he last?”

“..last time I checked he was going to get some air, said he had a small case he wanted to solve. I advised him to stay home but he promised he would be safe.”

“And you let a teen boy go thinking he wasn’t going to lie to your face and go to some house party?”

“Oh please, Erik, he isn’t that type of kid! He went to the campsites in search of something..please, just let me go.”

Erik walked back to his desk, starting to fill out some paperwork for the man muttering, “Not until I have evidence that you didn’t do it.”

Just then, Alexander rushed in with Ethan behind trying to stop him of entering. Ethan was barking a few words at the man, two accents fighting for a place within the room. Nik rolled his eyes, glaring at both.

Then he stopped, “If you want evidence, ask my brother. He clearly has something to do with this. Isn’t that right Alex?”

Alexander placed a hand over his chest fixing his collar and said, “And why I ever do such a thing? I got a call that my brother was in jail, I had to see what’s the matter.”

“Since when do you care?! You couldn’t care less if I was hit by a bus!”

“Watch your tone, clearly you never learn anything from me about manners. What did you do to get you in this mess?”

“Nothing of the sort. What did you do to my kid?”

“You’re kid? Since when did you have the legal right to call him yours?”

“Not the time. Where is he? I know you did something, you could never keep your hands to yourself.”

“With that tone, I might as well not bail you out.”

“What. Did. You. Do. To. My. Kid?”

“Nothing, I didn’t even know about this until now. But whatever you did to your kid, must’ve driven him away or worse, he’s probably being held hostage somewhere by one of your friends.”

“Bullshit..”

Alexander put down 20 bucks on the desk before walking out, smirking at Ethan who just glared blocking him from his path.

“Why are you not letting me leave? You think I have something to do with this?” Alex asked.

“Well, you always magically show up whenever it’s often than not convenient for you. First you show up when Ms. Spencer is awaken, then you appear when I’m taking a role in this town, even when Rochelle and Rick’s children are in a small crisis at school with Cole..you always show up. Matter of time when you come around again.” Ethan explained smirking, “What’s next for you?”

“Are you trying to threaten me, Mr. Long?”

“Depends, you see it as one?”

“Not at all.”

“Good. But mark my words, mister mayor, if you try something just as bad as this, I will come for you and your home.”

“I’ll like to see you try.”

With that the mayor walked out as Ethan marched right back into the station talking to Erik about the current events, glancing over at Nik every so often hoping the man listen to this words. Ethan wanted to come start a hunt for Joshua as quickly as possible within the towns and woods. He requested Rick, Cassie and Rochelle to come along knowing that the boy could be held anywhere. Erik was hesitating to bring anyone else into this search party but he knew they would need extract hands on deck, he was getting old more help would be better.

Half an hour later, he came back with this requested people. Rick didn’t look very pleased to be here, as he refused to have any weapons on him during the hunt in the woods. Rochelle hummed deciding on a gun, taking a small area of the town to look for the kid promising to Nik he’s innocent here as the man just sighed.

Cassie was quite analyzing the whole situation, knowing that Alex has done this to prove a point to pull them apart into separate groups for whenever his biggest heavy hitters came. However he remembered seeing Alexander’s body language shifted wondering if someone beside Liane or Bella told him off, but she couldn’t place her finger on it.

Erik stayed back, watching the four of them go as he stayed to question Nik for his innocence, he should be at home with his husband Charles, not here at work together. Yet, here he is. He offered the man something to eat or drink, but Nikolai couldn’t stomach anything at the moment.

He sat down on the bench of the cell at dark worse case scenario filled his head, thinking horribly of himself for letting that kid go off that afternoon when he should’ve stopped him. He was considered his guardian at this point, not just a friend. He said it himself, ‘his kid’, he never said that before put the words felt familiar.

He just hoped he wasn’t badly hurt, and he will forgive him..

~~~~~~~~~

Joshua was tired, cold and hungry. He was bleeding and bruised, but a part of him knew he had to stay awake. He tried sitting up properly against one of the walls, not even realizing that his feet were tied by some rope—oh how could this day get any worse?! His vision was slightly blurry as he looked over his shoulder to see a spec of light, crawling over to notice it was a window seeing trees, some snow and much more.

He was still in the woods, but he didn’t know for long. Alexander was planning on keeping him here, to keep his shut and guard by god know. He replayed the conversation between the two of them over and over again, he noticed a shift in the man’s tone earlier, like he hit a nerve. He didn’t know but the man just barked threats at him afterwards then slapped him across the face before leaving.

He searched around for any broken glass, sharp objects of any thing, to break himself lose and make a run for it. Then suddenly opened the door, as down the stairs walked in a women. He could hear a possible other voice coming from the room across but it faint. His eyes fell on the lady once again, short pink hair, glasses and black overalls along with some pink boots to match.

He recongized her from the record store, he barley talked to her very often but liked the vibes she gave off. He remembered hearing Riley’s tales of her father being Red Riding Hood and her mother being The Huntress, always pointing out the store’s kind lady.

According to the tales, her name was Luna, the women who was sent to harm his father but couldn’t have the heart to do so and ran away unable to finish the job, meeting Rick afterwards. Joshua bit his lip worried she was going to live up to her promise and harm him instead. Luna placed a cup of tea in front of him, shyly waiting for him to drink it.

Instead Joshua asked, “W-what are you going to do me? What’s in that?”

Luna gave him a innocent look shaking her head, “I only made you tea, you looked thirsty…I-i can make you s-something else.”

“No thank you..w-what is doing for you in exchange of keeping me held here..”

“..he-h-he is not doing anything..he, uh..”

“..let me go, please..”

“He told me he would give me a bonus upgrade on my store, allowing new shipments of video games…”

“I..”

“W-what? D-did I say something wrong? I won’t hurt you..I-i promise..”

“He is doing you a favor..but I am the one getting hurt here!”

“You will be fine, it’s only for a while..please drink up before it gets cold..I am sorry if I upset you, I um..”

Joshua looked down, a sadness and darkness filled his eyes, he didn’t know what to even respond with. It wasn’t her fault, she didn’t know any better and probably didn’t want to get hurt by the mayor, so she did the favor in efforts to save her skins. But he didn’t trust her that easily, even if he was thirsty. Josh pushed the tea away from him causing it to spill on the floor, as the small cup rolled around, Luna looked rather upset that he didn’t take her offer. She glared calling him ungrateful stepping back out the door, not before treating him a couple of threats.

The door closed behind her as he sinked back into the corner he was placed into. He looked at his backpack that seemed open. He assumed someone must’ve tried to look inside, he crawled over to the using his legs to inch the bag over searching for something to help him. He found an old textbook from Charles’s English class and smirked using whatever strength he can, even his hand tied behind his back tossed it over the cup Luna placed on the ground as he sat on top of both items crushing it. He was surprised all the hours of watching TV payed off, using the shattered piece he tried to saw his way out of the ropes slowly starting to cut.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The group of four searched around separating into pairs of two to cover even ground. Rochelle looked around the town’s older buildings deciding on heading to the woods next as Cassie went asking around for any sighting of the boy, tracking the area for clues. Cass knew one thing for sure, one of the advantages of being securely awake from the curse, is that there are hidden part of the town that come into bloom during the mid winter—early spring.

Certain flowers.

Meanwhile Rick and Ethan decide to split up. Rick knew he was able to cover more ground by himself, it was as if he had an act for catching people red handed with just the mere scent of their tracks. His daughter liked to say it was because he was half wolf, sometimes he liked to believe that was true.

With that knowledge, he went searching around for clues of any kind, dried blood marks on the ground, items lefts aside, anything useful for his hunt. To his surprise, a certain young Latina tagged along wanting to help out, having her clear guesses on what might’ve happened and who could’ve taken him hostage.

Ethan went lurking around the woods, driving in his car passing buses after buses, the foggy sight of the trees along the road didn’t help his vision almost knocking into someone. He stepped out to find a women with wild curls, a deep blue skirt, combat boots and a long ass coat catching her breath. He rushed over asking if she was alright, as the young women smiled with a shrug. Ethan questioned why she was in the woods as she said she going for a walk, the man just slowly nodded.

She asked him, “What are you doing here?”

“I uh..” He replied looking for an lie, “..I was searching for my dog. He’s a runner.”

“Ohh I love dogs! What’s is name?”

“Uh, Portland.”

“Portland? No offense, sounds like they were trying to run away with a name like that.”

“Yeah well, it was the first thing that came to mind when I saw him.”

“You know look like you could see a refresher, I know the woods very well. I have a map at my place, we both look for him together afterward.”

Ethan thought for a moment, seeing how kind yet familiar this young women meant to him. He thought a little help couldn’t help, technically he was looking for someone.

“Sure!” He added with a smile, “What’s your name by the way?”

“Meira.” She answered with a smile.”

“Ethan.”

“Nice to meet you, Ethan.”

The two drove off into the woods, stepping into Meira’ grand old house that was lovely decorated with flowers, nice chairs, paintings on the wall and even a beauty of a piano in the living room. She even had a couple of telescopes. She said that her parents died leaving with such a nice estate she couldn’t help but make it her own. Ethan was amazed by her little world inside the home, feeling cozy inside.

The two of them entered the kitchen as Meira pulled out a map and two cups of tea for them to drink out of. He joked if it was poison as she shook her head, pointing out the mapped sections within the woods.

Everything was going fine, the two chatted as they drank. Feeling at ease in the conversation, circling spots on the map onto where ‘Portland’ could’ve gotten. Meira kindly excused her to use the lady’s room as Ethan nodded for her to go right ahead. Once she left, he wondered around the hallways spitting his glass looking at the paintings of forests that didn’t look like any he’s seen before. He heard muffled sounds coming from the hallway as if Meira was on the phone with someone, he stepped into one of the rooms to find weapons.

Guns, bows and arrows, hats, throwing stars and much more. He slowly exit the room into the hallway, moving slowly. Suddenly, the sound of a gun cocking is heard turning around to meet Meira’s face who grinned.

“I see you found some new toys for Portland.” She said holding the gun to his face.

He raised an eyebrow, “I've already called for backup, they'll be here any second.” “You haven't called anybody... for the same reason you didn't tell me about your real plan. You don't want anybody to know you're here, which means nobody does.”

“Have you been watching me?”

“Maybe?”

“Your telescope. You've been watching me. Why?”

“I need you to do something for me…brother.”

She gently shoves him into a room, telling him to sit down in the chair in front of her desk, he does as so. As Ethan sat down, he noticed the room filled with hats on display and telescope. He even noticed a small potted plant in the corner, Meira smirked hoping his eyes darted to the small flower. She would have to thank Cassie later for it. She explained to him the situation here, along with the curse. Ethan rolled his eyes at Meira.

“Have you been reading Belladonna’s book?” Ethan asked.

Meira smirked, “Belladonna? You mean the Mal’s favorite hand maiden?"

“Belladonna’s, the Liane’s adopted kid.”

“Oh, Bella. Your Belladonna…and her book of stories, the ones that you choose to ignore. Maybe if you knew what I know, you wouldn’t.”

“Why have you been spying on me? Why did you call me ‘brother’? I don’t have a sister..”

“Yes you do. I’m your baby sister and Cole is your brother. You just don’t remember, cause you scared of the truth. Because for the last 16 years, I've been feeling stuck, day after day. Until one night, you, in your car, roll into town, and the clock ticks and things start to change. You seeI know what you refuse to acknowledge, Ethan. You're special. You brought something precious to the town—magic!”

“You’re insane.”

“You say that. But we know you seek to know that town is a little crazy. You show know, you’ve been around crazy you’re whole life! The tattoo on your arm is a small symbol of it.”

Ethan was silent, looking down at the tattoo on his arm, he was a feather. He didn’t remember getting it, alway assume it was due to a drunk night out with friends. Ever since he arrived, he felt strange around this town, the very fact that Cole decided to be nice to him surprised him, and now this. One look at Meira, he could tell she was onto something but he refused to acknowledge it like the rest of the damn town. She wanted him to look around and open his eyes, to wake up from whatever dream he has created his head.

She wanted him to take a second to remember who he was, that he had magic, skills untapped that just doesn’t want to take back. Make her a hat. Muscle memories as one would call it. He barked back that she has enough already but she responded that known of them work. However he can make some, due to their being very few magical elements in the real world.

He looked around briefly letting out a chuckle, “The hats, the tea, the bow and arrows…you’re somewhat psychotic behavior…you think you’re the Mad Hatter.”

She sighed with a smirk, “Yes, and I don’t think. I know. The name’s Merida, but some like to sweetly mistaken it as Meira.”

“You’ve clearly glommed onto my kid’s book. Well, the kid’s thing, but they are just stories. The Mad Hatter, he’s in-“

“She! She is supposed to be in Wonderland. But travels to other land that look just like this one, you should know. You’ve done it! You’re the Ace Of Hearts, The Knight of the realms..one of the plenty of Prince Charming’s around..”

“It’s all in a book! Stories that I’ve read in school, myself. I am no hero of those tales..they are hysterical stories.”

She sat down on the desk in front of her, leaning in with an almost convincing smile as she said, “Stories? Right, just stories. Tales of many kind..and where do you think they come from? History books are based on a version of history. And storybooks are based on what, imagination? Where does that come from? It has to come from somewhere.”

“Mhm..yeah..” He responded staying quite listening to her rant as his gears started to turn.

“That’s where we all come in! Every tale comes from somewhere, cue in our characters, from Nik being Prince Charming to Luna being the Huntress in his tale, simple really.”

“Simple? You want me to believe that?”

“You know what the issue is with this world? Everyone wants some magical solution to their problem, and everyone refuses to believe in magic. It’s not that hard, just open your mind.”

“Yeah, right open your mind..to this one reality!”

At that, she barked back standing from her chair leaning into his face with a knowledge smile. He leaned back, a hint of fear washes over him. He heard everything she said but there was something he feared from it all.

That she was right.

“What are you so afraid of?! All of the evidence is slowly coming into light, right there in front of you! God, dad must’ve made you hit your head a little too hard when you escaped..” She exclaimed, her gaze following him sight, “What is holding you back?”

That made Ethan finally snapped as a glare reached his eyes as he snarled, “Of this! I’m afraid of this. You think I am such a worthy hero? A Knight from Wonderland? Prince Charming?! I don’t want that job back on my shoulders! I may not remember what you’re saying but you’re making hard to run back and stay in my perfectly safe mind.”

Meira smirked, “There it is!”

“You know what’s it like to be separated from your kid? It makes you lose your mind wondering if they are okay! I just got her back, I am not willing to lose her again..I can’t be this hero—your Prince Charming, I don’t want it. I ain’t hero..”

“One of the heroes..only some of us remember who we are, the others don’t. But the kids do! It’s time to wake up, Ethan. Grab your pals and break this damn curse.”

The two of them were standing at this point. Meira even showed him across the telescope the town, the homes, her brother and friends. She said that they don’t remember anything, her parents don’t remember who they are. She can’t tell them, which drives her mad. Drives everyone mad when you can’t be with the ones you love. Ethan nodded understanding her statement, how it can make you feel like you’re losing your mind sometimes.

He shrugged saying it possibly a chance he believed, that she said was true. She smiled, as she turned around to pick up the hat, he picked up the telescope and strikes her with it, knocking her out cold. He muttered that she’s crazy, making sure she was alright as his gaze fell to a tattoo of a heart on her shoulder, before taking the gun and rushing out. He took one last glance at the flower, snatching up a knife from the kitchen before he left.

As he rushed out of the house, racing across the woods he spotted a certain brunette running looking over his shoulder. He noticed it as Nik who explained he tipped Erik off while he was asleep. The clock chimed as the two men exchanged a look knowing they had something they needed to do soon before it got dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile Belladonna and Rick went scouting the woods in search of the missing person. Rick leaned into his older path, tracking the more natural way searching foe clues. Finding a piece of cloth and dark dry blood marks on the ground, gasping at the sight. As they were moving in closer, Belladonna went the more tech route linking Joshua’s phone to hers, tracking him there. There was a low signal that was rather faint, but it was there.

Both of their radars went off, exchanging a couple of looks rushing off to the place where he must’ve gone. Rick stepped up the doorstep of the home banging on the door, getting a sense of nostalgia when it came to house. As if he knows it from somewhere. Like he’s been here before, but couldn’t place his finger on it. Belladonna noticed the small half smile on his lips as it seemed like a fragment of his mind was trying to tell him something but he had no idea what it was.

Funny how the mind work, huh?

There was ruffling sounds coming from the door, a heavy breath that could be heard loud and clear. As the door opened, dark brown eyes met the very blue of the blonde man who lowered his fist from the very door she opened. A connecting twinkle sparked between them, like a swirling look of acceptance and confusion at the circumstances.

“Luna?” Muttered the blonde, nodding for Bella to follow him inside.

“I um..R-rick..wh-what are you d-doing here? Wh-who is she?” She repiled, looking worried and nervous on the two visitors, “Uh..you can’t come in..”

But it was too late.

“Who is she? More like, who are you? And don’t play coy with me..” Belladonna asked eyeing the pink haired woman who looked petty and guilty in her eyes.

“I um..don’t know what you’re talking about.” Luna respond, looking between her and Rick, “I didn’t do anything, if that’s uh-what you’re thinking…”

“Likely story. Where is he? Where were you the last 24 hours?”

“I don’t know where you’r talking about..I um..I-i-i ww-was at h-home.”

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose and scoffed, “Luna, honey, I know you’re lying. What happened?”

Luna looked scared and more than guilty looking down, “..I-he m-made me do it..I was given a favor..f-for-for I can get a g-great deal o-on my at-store..it was a n-nice uh-thought…”

Belladonna didn’t wait another second, hearing the couple talk in the room as she hurried into every room on the first and second floor of the small house. She could hear exact footsteps and voices coming their way upstairs. She assumed it was her father and the others. A couple of screams were heard.

She paused as her ears caught wind of the muffled screams coming from the basement as she let out a small gasped, opening the lock and hurried down to find her friend on the ground weakly trying to break free. She felt horrible, rushing over to step untie him starting with his hands that were tired behind his back. He dropped the glass of the class cup that sliced a corner of his hand as she heard tiny whimpers coming from him.

Joshua’s eyes were red and puffy from crying, his gaze was dark almost like they lost his light. He was quiet, almost numb but responsive which was a clear positive sign for her. She pushed some hair out of his face as his body flopped over to the ground as she shouted for him to stay awake. But he couldn’t he was tired, annoyed and hungry.

She carefully led him upstairs calling for help up the steps, as thankfully Rick was there reaching for Joshua who weakly took his arms to hold onto. Belladonna blocked out his conversation with Luna as her only thought was on Josh’s health.

As she led him out the door and into the front of the house down the steps across the woods, in a flash came her father and Nikolai turned up rushing to side. Both adults rushed to the exact child. Ethan held his daughter close, proud of her for today’s action, walking them back looking over at the others. Belladonna carried the backpack on one shoulder. Nikolai held Joshua’s close, running a hand across his face telling him to stay awake and they will be home soon enough.

~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At the station, everyone was getting cleaned up. Erik talked to the adults, not pressing any charges on Nikolai for what happened, seeing a worried father take place in front of him. Rochelle was helping to gently clean Joshua’s wounds as he kept quiet. Ethan was nursing an wound that ended up on Belladonna’s body, despite her effort to tell him she was fine, he didn’t listen.

“What happened back there?” Rochelle asked dabbing a cotton ball on his forehead as the boy hissed.

Nikolai was wrapping his hand in a bandage, “..buddy, you need to tell us..”

Joshua was just silent, looking at Rick then Luna. But his gaze fell on Bella who locked eyes with him, as if to send a single signal to her onto what happened, who harmed him. She got what he meant and sighed.

He inhaled and hissed, “..I was in the woods, searching on a clue on our new case with the sighting of wolves and more campers lately, I saw something in the road..when I was knocked out cold, I woke up in the basement..my backpack away from me, tied up as Bella saw..”

Nikolai didn’t know what came over him, pushing his hair out of his face being gentle with his wound concerned with his state wondering what was going inside his head. The light in his eyes flickers out like a old used flashlight, like the sun was coming down to rest as the night took over for him. He noticed Erik questioning Luna onto what happened, as Rick backed her up. Ethan was taking notes of what happened, as the wildness of the woods still played in his head. Rochelle chimed up with her insights on the townsfolk and the accident that might’ve led up to it.

He shook his head, deciding to take him home to rest at their loft instead, ignoring Ethan’s calls saying they will talk later.

~~~~~

Once the two arrived home, Joshua lay down on the couch as Nikolai got some fruit to eat as he across from asking if he could open the backpack for him. The teen just nodded, watching him with blurry vision eating the long awaited food, humming at the taste of fresh blueberries and slices of mango entering his mouth. It felt better than expected.

Later on, after a quick shower and now in cleaner clothes he found his father in the kitchen wiping up two grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner. He watched him with tense shoulder, as the man hummed in comfort clothes than the pair of jeans and hoodie he was wearing earlier.

He knew he was waiting for him to talk about anything else that happened, as the teen just sighed and muttered, “..where were you?”

The older brunette paused from flipping the two slices of bread to look over his shoulder and reply, “Umm what?”

“I was gone for almost 24 hours and you were nowhere to be found..I was hoping you’ll be the one to find me..”

“Joshua..when you didn’t come I was worried, I called you phone plenty of time and you didn’t pick up. Next thing I know I was put behind bars at the sheriff’s station because they thought I did something to you..that I had something to do with your disappearance..”

“Wh..b-but yo-you escaped..I-i saw you!”

“I couldn’t any longer for bail or to be prove innocent to go after you, so I broke out of there! That’s what I came late to find you..I am so sorry..I should’ve listen to my gut and ran to search for you..”

“I needed you and you weren’t there..”

That caused Nik to turn around and face him. That words sting like a bee. He blinked hearing this words replay in his head over and over again like a drumbeat. He saw the look on his face that almost broke his heart.

He looked down for a moment, shaking his head hating that he made him feel that way, the words sounded like it came from a different place. As if he broke the line.

“Wh..what is that supposed to mean exactly? Josh, I haven’t said anything lately, but you’ve been holding something back ever since we started this whole thing..” Nik admitted crossing his arms, giving him a certain look, “What’s going on here? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”

“..um..you won’t get it.” Josh repiled, looking away for a moment, “..you won’t..”

“Try me. Go ahead.”

“Alright..you want the truth.”

Joshua took a breath and scoffed, “You let me go out that door last night, without a care in the world, because you thought you could trust me and look where it got me! I’m hurt because you’re brother decided to have me kidnapped because he knows if the truth gets out on what he plans to do with the town..he will be doomed.”

“I’mma stop you right there! Alexander kidnapped you and you didn’t expect to tell me this?! This is serious matter, Joshua I don’t care what his plan is, he harmed a kid. He tricked one of the townsfolk to keep you there.” Nikolai exclaimed with an anger in his stomach growing. “That’s my point! He wants to keep everyone locked up in this town for god knows what reason, cause he knows if everyone is happy he will have no power over us..I stayed quiet about this for weeks now I am not taking it anymore!”

“Alexander kidnapped you and harmed you in a way that shouldn’t be expected at any point. No kid should go though that..did he do anything else?” “I’ve been hit before at old homes, it seems like before I was knocked out cold I was fighting someone..but Alex, he just threaten me over and over again..he..he called me an orphan, a lost boy..that I will never know who I really am..I um..”

He started to get chocked up as he recounted all the bad things Alexander said to his face and all the things he told him. He was told stuff like this before, that he was a child. He’s got nothing to prove, nothing at all. Nikolai walked around the kitchen island setting in between the stools wrapping his arms around the teen, as running his fingers across his hair to smooth out his cries. He felt like a part of his way his fault, it was. He pressed a small kiss onto his hair and hummed trying to hush him as he listen to Joshua’s comments. He made a silent promise to himself to not let him feel that way again, not feel hurt or alone.

Then he heard it.

A small whimper that came from Joshua as he let go of his arms. He watched him go to his room, then come back with a blanket. A baby blanket with his name engraved in a font, on the side was a small little monkey. He handed it to Nikolai as he noticed the way he ran his fingers crossed the letters and the patch, he let out a small chuckle he knew his style of drawing better than the back of his hand. He took one glance at Joshua, trying to piece the words together. He noticed a old stuffed bear in his hands.

He spoke, “Remember the stories I told you..the ones you would hear us talk about at the diner, how each one of us like to talk bullshit for the characters are real and how they are our parents..I believed in that because I wanted to hope there was a sign they were out there..then..”

“Then all of this happened..” He continued for him, taking it all home, “..you had theses ups and down your whole life..and I walked in. The hot chocolate, the artist in you, the fact that..your looks..I’m your..”

“Yeah..I might need an DNA test to prove it but..”

“Prince Charming..me? I have..how long have you this?”

“For a while now..I-i didn’t know how to tell you or bring it up..because I didn’t think, I couldn’t wrapped by head around it..”

He didn't know whether to believe it or not. He was sure, he wasn't from some fantasy world. But how do you react to the kid who has been staying with you, is now saying you might be their father?

Nikolai walked over placing a hand over his cheek as his thumb rubbed his cheekbone, not knowing where he got his eyes from but he does have his chin, eyebrows, and—well his face in general, for sure. A a quarter of his height for the added measure. But there part of him that he must’ve gotten from his mother..

“Who did I screw to make you?” Came out his question.

The concept of him being his son was still wild to him, he probably needed an DNA test and answers on who the mother was. He has been with a couple of women over the years, so he wonder who is was.

Why come now with the questions? But a part of him could only wonder what came next.

———-

Ahh I am so sorry if this was long! I hope you guys like it. I’ll love to see your comments and insights you might have. Any thoughts on things.

Click here to see what else was happening during all of this

Tags: @missstrawbs2001 @purpleprincessonfyre @meiramel @gcthvile @rickb-chaos @gaminggirlsstuff @wizzzardofoz @thechoooooosenone @luna-d-marsh @rooster-84 @thecavalrywife @cherrysft and etc

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naivesilver · 8 months

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August Booth + 7 Years, Lukas Graham (edit audio)

#ouat #once upon a time #august booth #pinocchio #the rewatch has destroyed me I love him SO much #absolute entity #also the idea came to me because of a cass apocalyptic series fanvid so if y'all mad blame the turtles

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ladylannisterxo · 1 year

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rewatching ouat (it just feels like the right time) and as true as ever, rumplestiltskin remains so fucking cool. his controlled chaos and top notch manipulation tactics just make me laugh. what a guy!

#he does some truly insane and awful things in this series #but i'm just over here like 'yeah! go mr gold GO!'#i just think he's neat #rumplestiltskin #ouat #once upon a time #'s' rewatches ouat #'s' speaks

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justafanbutcurious · 5 months

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Emma what have you done this time? (OUAT)

#once upon a time #oncers #emma swan #the yellow bug #ouat #ouat rewatch #reunion #finding new series #stories #storybrooke #henry mills #adventure is coming guys #im not okay because this show needed to end

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poebrey · 2 years

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#star trek discovery #michael burnham #spock #unification iii is one of those dsc eps that's very up and down in terms of writing #much like most of season 2 imo #but this is one of my favorite small moments in the whole series #also upon rewatching this was such a ridiculous statement to make #imagine having a famed member of history that shaped your society as you know it #and their sibling who should've been dead hundreds of years ago pops up #and you're like 'well how do you know?' when they claim something about him #sir that is not very logical!#also #im conflicted about just putting in that bit of THAT scene but in terms of radical honesty #michael would not have been so nasty to spock if didn't know full well know that little 6 year old #was so serious about leaving vulcan and going to earth with her #and her little 10 year old brain was like 'im gonna say something so fucked up he never speaks to me again'#which once again not ok but she had ptsd x2 from watching her parents die then getting blown up soooo #*listening not watching but ykwim #also shout out to Sarek for noticing NONE of this and being like 'you know I really think he never accepted you'#fucking fool this was your fault for not noticing your kid was traumatized within an inch of her life #and your other kid was ready to pack his bags before he even did his kahs-wan

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m-s-little-fandom-file · 2 years

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idgaf what people say the season 7 finale of OUaT makes me cry more than the season 6 finale

#i actually really like season 7 #just got done with yet another rewatch if the series and i actually skipped the entirety of seasons 5-6 #i just don't really like them...#ouat #once upon a time

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brown-little-robin · 2 years

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>:D

#Once I've got yall well and truly invested in MP100 #THEN #it will be TIME #to unleash upon you my favorite fanfic I've ever read #(okay so. I have like four or five favorites but STILL.)#oh edit I just remembered. that particular fanfic was what kicked off this whole mob-blogging thing! It got me to rewatch the series!

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undercoverpena · 6 days

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10. cranberry cocktail

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter ten of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3k chapter warnings: SMUT. 18+. jo's bad use and knowledge of DIY. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. an: this one is called jo made herself horny. see author note at the end.

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It’s difficult not to smile as you approach.

His voice, mid-singing—almost competing with the radio that lingers under his voice—had been travelling out as you walked up to the building. Louder when you pulled open the door, sliding the sunglasses from your face.

A few blinks and your eyes capture his, singing dying out, leaving the original artist blaring around in the background.

Still, you're unable to stifle the smile. Not as you walk closer or as he puts down the tool in hand; least of all when you realise he's looking only half as abashed as you would be if he caught you mid-rendition, watching him dial down the volume on the radio as the door closes behind you.

Frankie had shown you this place once before. Your voice, light, teasing, hand in his: “You’re showing me where the magic happens?”

“I’ve shown you where that happens.”

“Not that magic—or, well, I hope you’re not about to tell me there are even more videos on a different site I need to watch. I’ve been forced to rewatch things lately.”

He’d explained, with a soft smile and a twinkle in his eye, how he’d turned the garage into a workshop. The hours, the pieces he’d started with and the things he’s managed to build, find or bargain for along the way. Even lingered his thumb over the height chart for Luca, the one he told you he began when he first bought the run-down house he made a home.

It was impressive then, but you hadn’t appreciated it as much as you do stepping in today.

You'd been too busy then, watching, studying him. Spotting the way he trailed his thumb across his bottom lip, eyes widening as they tried to smile before his lips as he pointed out highlights he knew you’d have seen from certain videos you’d mentioned.

Now, it's all lit by soft, mid-morning sunlight, looking homely, loved, worn in and appreciated—everything you’d expect from him.

Even if things are out, such as plasterboard and wood leaning against odd edges, everything else has a place. Just like the scent that wanders around and flows as if there’s a constant candle burning, one which includes notes of freshly applied paint, the essence of sawdust and leather. A blended aroma that subtlety clings to his clothes—and then lingers inside your own. A thing which brings comfort, until it seeps in sadness upon the realisation that it's faded from a sweater, bedsheets or your throw after a few days of not seeing him in person.

"Hi, handsome."

He grins, a hello escaping out as his knuckle tips your chin up, your smile back presses to his mouth. Tasting his lips, how they’re tinged with coffee. Frankie planting it more intently as your hands find their way around his waist, heightening it, fingers grasping your cheek.

You swear you could kiss him forever. A thought you know you have continuously, almost every time his mouth finds yours. But you mean it.

Completely. Utterly.

Your palms sliding around, fingers brushing over dry, hard paint specks buried into the soft, beloved cotton of his tee.

“So,” you say when you pull away, teeth biting your lip—finding yourself staring at him, as though his face alone answers everything.

In some ways, you're adamant it does. In others, you know it will.

A feeling that thrums more and more intensely as weeks rack up into months, as your heart flutters in your chest when his eyes hold yours for a second longer than normal.

“What has prompted this little requested visit?”

Grinning, he traces his thumb along your jaw. “Thought you could drill some holes—for your cupboards?”

Smirking, dragging your tongue in a sweeping motion across your lip, you tap your fingers on his waist. “Drill, ay? I didn’t… exactly come dressed to be in your workshop.”

“Wait,” he says, eyes widening, mouth pulled into a line as he brushes his fingers down the fabric of your summer dress that rests along your collarbone. “This isn’t an everyday DIY outfit?”

Grinning, you nudge into him, head shaking—hand grasping a handful of his tee. “No.”

“Don’t worry,” he says, voice dropping, charm encasing each letter as his hands find a home on your hips, “I’ll make sure you don’t get messy.”

A soft laugh escapes you, feeling the way his thumb continues its gentle circling on your cheekbone.

“You on cleanup duty, then?” you reply, the words muffled against his lips. He hums in response, a sound of agreement that sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

Without pulling away, he gently guides you towards the bench—hands on your side as his chin rests on your shoulder.

One glance at him, and he offers you a comforting smile. Before it comes over him, that voice—the one from the videos. All lightly, but sternly instructing you. Talking you through the steps, before he tells you to pick up the black and orange drill from in front of you.

A lick of warmth slides up your spine, a soft whimper escaping your lips as you press closer to him, your body beginning to buzz from the way he’s pressed against you—his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your waist.

“We’re going to begin with drilling the holes for the handles.”

Rolling your lips, you rest your head against his. “Okay.”

“What you’re gonna do is lightly ease the drill in.”

“Is that so?”

Clearing his throat, you swear you hear your name, it followed quickly by a “Stop.”

“Stop what, Frankie?”

It’s a grunt. A thing buried in his throat before he takes a measured sigh. His hand rises, gripping the top of the power tool before lining the drill bit with the marked wood.

“Being a tease—now, lightly pull the trigger.”

Blanking your face, staring at him with confusion. “So, push it in and out?”

You watch it hit him—slowly. It washes over him in a few blinks, your hips wiggling against his before he groans again. “You’re killing me.”

“I’m very innocent, Morales.”

“Mierda. You’re the opposite of innocent. And no, it’s straight down. Not in and out—we’re not… we’re not fucking it.”

Giggling, you bite the inside of your cheek, adjusting your stance as you swear his groin pushes into your ass on purpose. Finding a way to mumble an okay, you shift your shoulders in preparation. Asking, finger hovering over the trigger of the drill, if you squeeze it lightly as you feel him nod.

Swallowing, you give it a test. A little click. Hearing it, before you see thin crinkles of wood coming away from the pressure.

“Like that?”

Somehow, all beyond you, you manage to keep your voice steady. It all unwilling to tremble—even though his breath is dancing over your neck. Even though his hold on your hip is tightening.

Then there’s the heat pulsating through your dress—the warmth settling into your bones, skin and muscle from his touch. Your body remembering, recalling—able to know just from his presence what he can do, what he has done, how he can unravel you and make you become a mess all from his fingers, mouth and—

“Bit more pressure this time, baby.”

“You can’t say that.”

Snorting, the air dances over your skin as you swear you feel him smirk. “Oh, Rainy. I can.”

You swear his voice drops an octave.

Sweeping the words over you, making your body tense, muscles twisting in on themselves as you try to focus on the drill in your hand. Stare down at the piece of wood he’s set up for you until it’s a blur. Nodding. Finger over the button, knowing you just need to squeeze—

Perfect, he whispers.

And fuck it makes your thighs press together. Makes something rumble inside of you at the same time as the drill fires to life.

The noise is all loud, alarming—deafening. A hole deepening in the wood.

“That's it, just like that. Perfecto, hermosa.”

Even with how loud it is, you can only hear him.

How he layers so much emphasis on the P, the letter is still skating over your skin by the time the rest that follows it has left his tongue.

You can only swallow. Remaining aware, and yet focused in, on how his hand slides down, fingers teasing the end of your dress—a quickly thrown-on thing, an easy option that meant you could arrive here sooner.

“You’re perfect,” he says, kissing it against your neck as his hand slides under your dress, palm flat to your thigh, dragging it up, and up.

Some part of you, all distant, feels him take the drill, hears a click, before it’s out of sight, out of fucking mind.

Then it’s just thick fingers you focus on, how they slide, rub, torture over your underwear—feeling like minutes, hours, days before he manoeuvres. Before he’s forcing elastic to cut into your skin, before you feel him trace along the places you need him desperately.

“Frankie…”

He drags his nose against the side of your face, feeling the exhale flutter against your jaw before he makes you gasp before it grows into a shameless whine.

“This not what you wanted?”

Swallowing, your eyelids quiver. Some part of you, a present part of you that isn’t lost in the way he’s stroking up and down your slick folds, occasionally catching your clit, that he isn’t going to let you come like this.

Even if he's told you he likes the way you sound, has confessed that he likes watching you unravel; his favourite pastime, his favourite movie and soundtrack.

“Need to hear you, Rainy?”

“Want you,” you pant, breathless.

He fans hot breath on your skin. “Want me to fuck you here, baby? On my bench. Hmm?”

You’re fluttering, desperately to squeeze him—fingers or cock, you’re not in a frame of mind to be fussy.

Mind changing, singing, practically bellowing: please, please, fucking, please. Body thrumming, vibrating, legs desperate to shake—if not for the fact they’re keeping you upright. Your fingers find a place on his bench, digging, barely making a mark against the rest on his workbench. But it’s stable, rigid.

“Tell me, baby,” he says, softer, dripping it into your ear like honey—all encased in air that seeps inside of you and makes you forced to chase his lips.

It’s against them you say please. Kissing a y, an e and a s against his mouth, licking past his teeth, hips rocking into his fingers as he circles and circles and circles—

Then, nothing.

Retraction, emptiness. A desperate whine emerges, rising from the back of your throat until it fuses with the air.

An explanation almost demanded, but his belt buckle undoing silences you. His clothed cock presses against you, feeling how hard he is, the size of him making you clench your thighs as cool air kisses the back of your legs when he grabs a fist full of your dress.

“Gonna get rid of these.”

It’s deft, his finger—hooking in the band of your panties as he drags the soaked fabric down your thighs, letting it fall the rest of the way as the fabric finds a home around your ankles. For a moment they just remain there, not entirely confident you can step out of them until he holds you steady, talks you through it:

One foot, then the other. That's it, baby.

Because your body is on auto-pilot, doing things for you, for him. Like parting your thighs as his hand rests on your back as he softly urges you down. Your forearms find the bench, hingeing at the waist, lying your chest flat on his bench, sawdust filling your nose and stitching itself into the upper part of your dress as you turn your head, flakes sticking to your cheek.

And for a moment, an expanse of time, you forget how to breathe, how to be, where you are as you stare at him.

This man, this person who one day you didn’t know and the next you did—is now yours, all yours. Mine, he’d said in bedsheets after the conversation in the kitchen. Like that you’re mine, Rainy. A man you trust, like, lov—

Frankie, who is all handsome, broad and fucking kind, is now looking at you as if you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted to devour in his life. Do it, you silently plead, beg, metaphorically getting on your knees as he washes you in almond-brown eyes.

He’s a sight you couldn’t have ever made up, least of all this one. Fingers, thick—one wrapped in a bandaid—pulling down on the brim of his hat, hiding his eyes, casting half of him in a shadow that makes you almost moan. There’s just the tip of his nose, just his mouth on show, lips spread and curled into a smirk as he lines his cock at your entrance.

You sure? He asks, fingers brushing over your hip, keeping the fabric back, as you smile, nod, and whisper for him to make you feel good before he eases the head of his cock in. It's then your mouth parts around a silent cry of his name, pussy welcoming each inch of him, opening, as you let him slide all he wants to give.

“Know you can take me,” he hushes, “I’m good at measurements, calculations—“

“Fuck.”

“Fuck, you like that.”

Whining his name, he smirks. Because both the feel of him and the act is something you couldn’t have ever concocted. Fuck, a year ago you wouldn’t believe the person you are either. Not this confident being almost laid down on his workbench, feeling this good, this attractive, all bold—asking for this, for what you want. No flicker of shyness or nervousness.

Then there’s him. A sight your mind is struggling to process. Frankie with his teeth glistening with spit as he stares down at you, as he sweeps that burning gaze over you and grunts at the feel of you. One hand, large, slightly calloused, finding meaning on your waist, the other holding your dress up your spine, pressing down, light, but firm—don’t move, baby, stay still.

As if you ever would.

The stretch is welcomed, a dull ache answered, all buried to the hilt. Remaining there, still.

“Move, please—fuck, Frankie, I beg of you.”

He chuckles. A low laugh.

But he does, pulling out before driving back in, making your vision swim, blur. It all overwhelming. Both the sensation and everything else—scents, sounds and touch. His hips slowly moving, his belt buckle clanging and it’s easier to find yourself draped over the bench, cheeks on the wood, inhaling it—the scent that lives in his clothes, in his fingers and aura.

Frankie, just Frankie. Your Frankie—

“So g—fuck—good for me.”

Your fingers dig, grasp—his cock kissing that spot inside of you that forces your toes to curl in your shoes, your mouth managing half of his name before it fades to a moan. All breathy, doused in whimpers and yes’s falling in a verse that leads to a chorus.

“Feel so—oh, good, Frankie.”

“Yeah?”

“Perfect. Feel perfect.”

He moans—low, tinged in a grunt, a hiss, your name etched somewhere in the sound—as he pulls almost all the way out, drawn out, an emptiness beginning to register before he thrusts in. Somehow deeper, somehow filling you more perfectly as you squeeze your grip on the bench.

And you’re close, all light and boneless—but heavy and alive, so alive you feel like fire courses in your veins and you could become more flame than a person.

“Come for me, baby. Right on my bench—fuck, you feel good, so tight—need y’to come. Right here.”

And it crashes against you, all of it. Suddenly unable to smell a thing, hear a thing—you just feel. Feel the sensation of just him and the tip of him hitting that spot which makes you arch as pleasure, all blinding and molten lava rushes through your blood, and flows into your muscles.

All numb and yet tingly.

It takes a moment, but your senses come back one by one, panting, breathless—muscles tired and depleted—as you feel his hips stuttering, the strained noises from behind forcing your eyes open.

He’s a picture, a work of art—a statue that should be carved by someone with talent. Sun streaks in and basks him in a golden hue, illuminating that heart patch on his jaw—the way his tongue is pinned between pearly white teeth, and the vein in his neck throbs angrily as he reaches his own climax.

You clench, aware of it, ogling and admiring pushing him over the edge as he curses, tensing, rigid, pace lost as he spills inside of you, happily taking it all, wishing to wring him dry and ensure he’s empty. Greedy, desperate and fucking needy.

Before his body finds refuge on top of yours, heart hammering against your spine—hat falling, tumbling off onto the floor as the two of you catch your breaths. His hand finds your cheek, stroking his thumb against it.

“Never… I’ve never done that before.”

Smiling, you gaze at him as best as you can. “I like how you drill,” you say, playfully, feeling his laugh rumble through him before he kisses your hairline.

It’s light—perfect.

Feeling the laugh bounce from bone to bone inside of you before he turns and eases you up, chest to chest, murmuring against your lips about a shower, about cleaning you up. And you keep smiling, even more so when he checks your chin and cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing over and over.

“You promised me I wouldn’t get messy.”

Thumb pausing on your cheek, he smirks. “I can clean you up, baby?”

Smirking, you shake your head, heat flooding your cheeks. “How are you planning on doing that?”

He tilts his head, before slowly grasping the bench, descending to his knees. Your mouth unable to stop itself from falling open, all wide, surprised as he presses a kiss to your knee.

“Might want to hold onto something, baby,” he says, writing it against your inner thigh. “Might take me a minute to make sure you’re all cleaned up.”

NEXT CHAPTER ->

an: while we still have some more chapters of these two, I've been experimenting with a few things and while it won't have any bearing on the main series, there will be some smutty-one-shots that can be read as and when, and if so people wish. they won't require reading of the series, but rather allow anyone to enjoy two people who are becoming comfortable with one another, exploring a few different things. i'm not sure on when the first will be out, but it won't replace normal uploads for them. but rather just be small little things i'd love to include but would feel shoe-horned into my plan. also if there's anything you'd love a bit more of, whether it's a bit more on rainy/frankie or their relationship, my inbox is always open. thank you for letting these pair into your heart.

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x reader smut #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales smut #francisco morales smut #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories #jo: dmy #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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renegadesstuff · 3 months

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Her smile 🥹🥹🥹

#castle #kate beckett #caskett #richard castle #beckett and castle #castle and beckett #beckett x castle #castle x beckett #castle series #castle rewatch #castle edit #castle season 4 #4x17 #once upon a crime

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stsgluver · 6 months

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summary. instead of spending two weeks in a hot country, you're stuck in a cramped hotel with your boyfriend.

wc. 1.3k

tags. richly!gojo au, fluff, slightly suggestive themes but not really you've got to squint hard, swearing once

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“i’m literally dying,” gojo whined, falling back dramatically onto the double bed in the room.

you shot him a glare from where you sat on the floor, searching through your suitcase for ibuprofen which you had grabbed in the airport’s pharmacy to help with the searing headache you had. despite his tendency to have migraines that could leave him bedridden for days, gojo had decided not to bring any painkillers just in case and that was just one of many reasons you might be killing him before the fortnight is over. “if you complain one more time you will be dead.”

you were meant to be going on a two week, all inclusive holiday with your darling boyfriend and his mega rich family in a hot foreign country, the worries of college pushed far to the back of your mind for fourteen days of pure bliss.

but fate clearly didn’t think you’d earnt such restbite as upon arrival and taking the mandatory test, both you and gojo had tested positive for covid-19. the light sniffles he had put down to hayfever and the headache you’d assumed was just what came with having gojo satoru as a boyfriend, were in fact symptoms of the illness you both had.

so now here you were: isolating in a small hotel room until your isolation period was up, or you both tested negative. it was sparsely decorated – a double bed in the centre of the room and a television opposite. there was a small open wardrobe where gojo had dumped his suitcase and an ensuite that would just about fit your lanky boyfriend. although not the best, there was some air conditioning as well which made the stifling heat just a little bit more bearable.

the staff had given you a specific number to call if either of your symptoms got worse and food would be brought to you at specific times everyday (not like the usual room service gojo was used to where he’d order banquets of food at stupid times in the morning). there were also the morning tests that you now had to do daily which left you pathetically sneezing afterwards. all in all, nothing that you had expected for your get away.

after finally finding the medication, you quickly swallowed two pills down with a sip of water. the sooner they could kick in and actually do something to help ease your discomfort, the better.

crawling onto the double bed, gojo welcomed you with open arms and you gratefully curled into his side, throwing one of your legs over him. yes, it was boiling and yes, you were mildly irritated with your boyfriend, but you were also in pain and, for all his flaws (which he denied having any), nothing could top being held close by him. the two of you were clingy with each other at the best of times – being ill and feeling sorry for yourselves only made you both worse.

“pass me the remote,” you patted the space next to gojo blindly, too lazy to lift your head to actually search for it. it had now been almost an hour of you two cuddled up on the bed, and for the last thirty minutes gojo had been rewatching the same show over and over. whilst you headache had marginally subsided, listening to the same crappy show was only driving you insane.

“no, i like this show,” gojo whined, swatting your hand away.

“satoru,” you dragged out, muffled as you pressed your face further into his top, “you’ve watched this episode three times, you don’t need to watch it again.”

gojo hummed thoughtfully, running his hands through your hair. it was enough to make you fall asleep if you weren’t careful. “yes i do.”

“why?” you rested your chin on his chest, meeting the gaze of his bright blue eyes that sparkled as they looked down at you.

“because i’m ill.” he coughed twice for affect, sounding as pathetic as ever as he ‘checked’ himself for a fever too.

you narrowed your eyes at him before pinching his side, causing him to let out a small yelp. “who’s fault is that?”

“covid’s.”

“no. yours,” you said pointedly, a little more alert as you relayed all the reasons why it was in fact gojo’s fault that you both had contracted this illness. “i said don’t go to geto’s party, we’re about to go on a very expensive holiday. you said but baby please please please-” you huffed, rolling back onto your back next to him defiantly. “so i gave in, as per, and now we’re–”

gojo brought his other hand to messily pat the top of your head, coaxing you to turn to face him. “i love it when you’re mad,” he was wearing a shit-eating grin that only widened when you blankly stared back at him – your annoyance radiating off of you in waves more powerful than the ones you could’ve been enjoying on the sun-ridden beach. “you’re so sexy.”

“you’re corny. and annoying,” you sat yourself up as you held out your hand, lifting a finger with each complaint, “and stupidly tall, and a pain in my ass… and i feel like you’re not even listening.”

gojo crossed his arms behind his head as he condescendingly nodded along, gazing up at you with a lopsided smile. his top had risen up ever so slightly to expose a sliver of his abs and you hated how attractive he looked when all you wanted to do was throttle him for his childish behaviour.

“oh i’m listening baby,” he encouraged with a teasing tone, tracing small patterns on the exposed skin of your leg. “go on.” there was a fire in his wake, one that no hot weather could ever compare to, not even covid had this much of an affect on you.

“i don’t think i want to anymore,” you mumbled arms crossed as you slowly lay back down and avoided his eyes, trying not to give him any indication that you were a complete fool for his touch (like your sudden bashfulness wasn’t completely giving you away).

gojo was slow with his movements, thoughtful as he dragged his hand up along your thigh, grazing your hips, giving your waist a light squeeze as he traced the outline of your body. your breath was caught in your throat as you allowed him to do as he pleased, all previous grievances forgiven as you watched entranced. gradually, he closed the gap that you had created, shifting his body until he straddled you, holding his body up by resting on his forearms either side of your head.

gojo dipped his head down, lips milimetres from your own that you would barely even need to lift your head from the pillow to touch. his voice was an octave deeper as he spoke. “shame, i was just starting to–”

and then he fell into a fit of very loud and very barky and very not sexy coughs. he didn’t even give you the decency of trying to limit the spread of his germs and buried his head into the crook of your neck once his coughs were over.

“mood fucking ruined,” you hit his shoulder lightly and he babbled something that was completely muffled and only tickled as his lips brushed your skin. “please let me at least change the channel so i die from this illness and not insanity.”

gojo lifted his head up ever so slightly, just enough so that he could peck the corner of your lips and point to the spot next to you. “i slipped the remote under my pillow. tv’s all yours baby.”

a/n. I think this is like the first thing ive posted in almost a month. I MISS YOU GUYS xxx

taglist. @jar-03 @animeflower26 @hyori2

#— toru!!#satoru #gojo drabbles #gojo x reader #gojo #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x you #gojo fluff #gojou satoru #rich boy!gojo

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ask-missparker · 2 months

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And all I've seen, Since eighteen hours ago / ONCE UPON A TIME AU

This continues the trend of the series 1 finale —> click here to read it

Pairing: Snow!Amelia x Charming!Nikolai, Rumple!Cole x Hook!Jeremy

Extra characters mentioned: Ethan, Liane, Cassie, Bella, Marlene, Melissa etc

Note: I tried my best with this one but i like how it turned out

A/N: I might need new songs for titles very soon 😂

———

—————

The streets were full with the dim lighting of the gray skies. The clouds covered each and every square of sunlight that tried to keep entering the town with such intensity just like the people in it.

A light blast waves through the air and past people who were simply walking around, trying to enjoy their day as that sudden explosion of light came through them. A shock wave of smoky memories entered folks from across the streets, as it all came from the hospital where Liane was just woken up from her slumber by her Prince. Ethan, Ace Of Hearts.

Mia was nursing a killer headache with another stroke of Advil, she might as well pass out from the tension on her forehead, that’s when she felt a shocked sensation come across almost immediately dropping her bottle of water.

Memories slowly started to brace for impact like being unlocked from a tightly packed closet. She looked over her shoulder gasping, rushing to swing the door open as the others followed suit.

“Snow?” Liane said with a hush tone, her eyes watered.

“Mal!” She replied rushing to carefully pull her into a gentle embrace.

She smiled at Ethan who winked at her remembering Cassie and watching Belladonna. Her mind was still fuzzy herself from the day she has had, trying to piece together what happened. She listened to Liane and Cassie joked with each other as Bella went to hug mother.

Still being a nurse and noticing herself as Amelia, she caught wind of Liane’s concern placing the patient staff in front of her.

She remembers Cole leaving that staff here for some reason before waking up then left without telling her anything else. She wondered where he headed of to now…

“Col—Rumple, left it here if you believe that. Found it a supply closest of all places.” She added.

“Is it still magic? Am I still magic?” Liane asked with a hopeful hint of wonder in her eyes.

“Uh, no one knows yet. But everyone is waking up. Wait—Nikolai!”

Oh shit her husband?! Amelia quickly tugged off her white coat and went rushing out the door hearing her friends laughter. She yelled at her fellow nurses Judy—who was really one of the knights wives of their land—oh dear god was her head was foggy, that she will be back later.

She raced out of the double doors into the main streets of the town finding people, who were her other friends running around looking for their loved ones, tripping over things.

She found Marlene crashing into her frantically trying to wrap her head around this whole thing and asking for Melissa. Mia blinked saying she’s at the hospital, as the tall brunette thanked her with a hug running over to find her girl.

Amelia—Snow, she walked around wondering if she will find him and her—oh my goodness gracious her son! She placed a hand over her stomach at the feeling started racing back to her body. She remembered a couple of things before passing around back in the enchanted forest, one of them being the last few moments with her son as Jeremy and Nikolai took her to the wardrobe.

Joshua…

~~~~~~~

Meanwhile Nik was sitting on the rooftop of his home thinking over his crazy week. From plenty of customers coming to get a tattoo to his kid being kidnapped by his brother. He took him to the hospital a couple hours ago to get a quick check-up after the bomb dropped at home.

Just as he was about to open the bottle of beer in his hand a sudden burst floated past him and crashing down his head. He sucked in a large breath as he moved backwards in his seat, his eyes closed then blinked open looking around confused for a split second. Like a light switch, the memories came pounding down at him.

Both Prince Charming and Princess Charming. Jeremy being Captain Hook, Cole being a wizard of their land, Ethan as Ace Of Heart, Melissa as Belle and the list went on. He was in pure shock and surprised scrambling off the rooftops, down the stairs and into the window that led him into of his loft. He went searching for his jacket then paused as his eyes caught the baby blanket in the hallway behind the wall, inching over his memories start to forward onto that day.

Flashbacks and echoes never wanting to let go. The laughter, the cries, the pain and faces. He reached the edge of living room where he found him sitting on the couch flipping across the tv screen for something entertaining to watch, locking eyes with him.

Joshua. His beautiful boy was now 16 years old with a small bruise of his arm and two tiny cuts on his face. He smiled and nodded sitting down beside him, cupping his face and just held him in his arms. All he wanted to do was apologize for leaving him alone for so many years. His son looked at him oddly as of trying to pick up the piece seeing the glimmer in Nikolai’s eyes.

“You remembered..? Y-you’re awake?” Joshua asked, not knowing weather or not to believe it.

Nikolai just nodded, “Y-yeah, bubba. I’m awake..oh god I am so sorry I didn’t believe any of you kids in the beginning.”

“It’s alright..it’s okay, does that mean everyone else is?”

“Y-yeah, it’s gotta be. You found us. You found really us…oh my god your mom and friends!”

“Mom?”

“I’ll go find your mother and my friends. You go check on the others.”

~~~~

The two stood up grabbing their coats rushing out of the loft. Nikolai knew there are so many things he needed to do later on, but his thoughts came rushing down to his wife. Joshua smiled running out the door as a glimpse of hope started to emerge from his eyes noticing the chaos of the streets rushing to find Bella and Ethan. He helped a couple of others that were still trying to desperately find their loved ones.

Rick and Luna were even seen reunited with their family at the diner.

Nikolai went around the corner, searching for his friends as the crowded streets went cold. His mind was running a miles a second faster than his body can handle, noticing couples running into each other’s arms, kids looking for their friends and some of his teammates piling up. He looked over his shoulders to notice the stack of bouncing brown curls in black jeans and top that seemed to be light blue scrubs.

He allowed a breathless smile reach his cheeks and yelled out, “Snow!”

She paused turning her head standing next to the pair of trucks, taking a breath as she muttered, “Charming…”

The two stumbled onto the middle of the streets, falling into each other’s arms. Amelia cupped his face for a split second, as her hands reached to grab the collar of jacket breathlessly taking in his features. His cheekbones were covered with a layer of cold blush and his curls acted a little wild but beloved nonetheless. Nikolai held her close, embracing her touch pushing the short brown layers out of her face, scanning every inch of her face like he was lost in translation and drowning, finding coming up for air.

“I missed you…you found me again..” She said joking softly

“Of course I would.” He responded with a small laugh, “You have you no idea how much I missed you..”

“God, it was right in front of us this whole time.”

“It’s okay. We were just as blinded as they were.”

Without a second thought, the couple pulled the other into a long awaited kiss, every bit of longing was brought into that moment. A hand was placed on the back of Amelia’s neck as they kissed, meanwhile a small hand stayed on Nikolai’s chest.

A small muttering voice was heard causing them to pull apart, reconnecting the very same thought to their son. Joshua stood there awkwardly smiling at his parents who pulled him into a tight embrace, hushing whatever worries or concerns he had. Amelia saw her baby again, that’s all that mattered to her as she kissed his forehead, the same forehead she stitched up a couple of hours ago. She had so many questions and things she wanted to truly know about him. Nikolai rested a hand on his head and pressed a kiss onto his forehead, remembering the last moment they shared together when he was just born, now he had another memory—another chance to rebuild up that list of moments lost.

~~~~

On the other side of town, Cole and Jeremy were talking about something, hiking up a hill near the woods. The two reunited in the middle of the streets a couple of minutes ago, telling one another how much they missed their husband very much.

As the two embraced it clicked for Jeremy that his husband he woke up first and didn’t think of waking him afterwards. He wasn’t too upset about it, just questioned how handled waking up to wake up from the curse and didn’t try to knock some sense into him.

Cole was holding his husband’s hand and sighs, “For the last time, I’m sorry for not waking up you up sooner!”

Jeremy softly glared returning the favor of keeping him closed as he responded, “You let me go on for more than a few weeks, under this spell as the most doe eyed husband known to man. With a damn prosthetic hand!”

“Oh hush, you were happy under the curse for years and not taking my ear off! It was kinda funny coming home to you not wearing your leather and red vest.”

“I was wearing blue jeans, flannel and sneakers every day for years. I miss my thick boots..and I love prosthetic hand, but I kinda my hook, babe.”

“I know you will like the flexibility to use both. We’re going to go searching for it in my shop after we’re done. And I’ll take you out to dinner for an apology, I promise.”

Jeremy grinned hearing that part, knowing he more than deserved a whole week alone with his husband now that the curse was over. He knew he has to find their friends afterwards but first he wanted him.

Cole smirked and pressed a kiss to his lips, missing that cheeky grin of his loving man as they reach the wishing well closed to the town. The water of run below are set to have the powers to return what once was lost. Yes there was magic small enough to sprinkle in tiny corners of the town, but not as much as they would like.

They just needed a little more.

Cole let Jeremy to the honors, holding a small bottle of mist that was coated with true loves magical elements. The two were able to take a few flowers from the store across the pawnshop, crush the seeds within to create a misty powder, mixing with the other elements they could find.

It didn’t have to be a lot of magic. A trickle to a certain roar would do enough to breathe life back into the town. Cole rested his head on Jeremy’s shoulder as his husband poured the powder down the well.

They waited for something to take place.

“Nothing happened.” Jeremy said blunted, with a humorous tone.

“Wait for it, love.” Cole added inching for them to take a step back.

A mere two seconds later, a lower misty cloud crawled up the well and out pouring its down the slope of hills and mountains below, seemingly leading itself across town like a light blue sea of fog.

Sometimes the grandest gestures came from all packages. The misty clouds floated over the floor of the buildings and streets catching a slight breeze of attention for everyone. It wasn’t huge, but effective nonetheless.

It was subtle.

The couple grinned at the sight, it was wild and soft whisper. Oh boy were they gonna have a nice dinner tonight.

~~~~~~

The town slowly but steadily noticed the glimmer of light blue smoke that reached above their feet. Even if none of them noticed, others have felt in their bones. Some people felt it quicker than the rest.

Good chance some might’ve gotten the bouncing feeling of magic surrounding them the moment the curse broke and others, the would’ve touched that side of themselves later on.

Liane felt it in her back as she lay across in her hospital bed, Ethan was more than concerned with their friends to notice. Bella noticed something small out of the corner of her eye, so did Cassie.

Alexander was in his office, glancing out the window to notice the blue smoke coming across the streets, he stood there confused then smirked wondering what would happened next.

Citizens of the town looked over their shoulders to notice the mist crawling from the ground like a breeze.

Nikolai’s eye widen grabbing his eye and son’s hands ushering them to somewhere else safer than the middle of the street.

Joshua’s narrow his eyesight as his mother held him close to her chest, watching the smoke start to pour onto the edges of town then slowly disappear. Amelia kept a hand on his head watching the smoke clear, leaning against her husband.

She knew whatever happens next, all that matters is they’re alive and kicking. Weather they have magic or not in these streets…

———-

—————

Th-th-that’s all folks! Hopefully more will be revealed soon hehe. 😜

Anyways I hope you guys enjoy it, tell me what do you think?

Thank you @missstrawbs2001 for coming on this journey with me! I honestly didn’t expect this to grow and become what it is haha it was originally intended to be a one off thing. 💕 Thank you @gcthvile for creating such amazing content to bounce of off, I love your work and taking time to explore this universe of storytelling 💘

Tags: @rooster-84 @cherrysft @gaminggirlsstuff @purpleprincessonfyre @luna-d-marsh @rickb-chaos @sherloquestea @thecavalrywife @thisgirlisonfayeeer @cherrykissthings @mera-xebella and etc

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nouveaudragon · 1 month

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Once Upon a Time is very gay. I am rewatching this series and it is so incredibly obvious that Regina and Emma are meant to end up together. The chemistry is WILD. Like why in the world didn’t they just go for it?

#once upon a time #ouat #emma swan #regina mills

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marxo-fm · 7 months

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Secrecy

✯ Viscount Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!reader

Summary: You’re the princess of the United Kingdom, trapped in the Kew Palace with nothing to do but obey. That seemed to change after your brother makes an appearance at the ball held in honor of his arrival from the British Military, with a surprise guest.

Warnings: MDNI+18, Mentions of adult theme and language, slight smut with plot, inexperienced!reader, virgin!reader, praising, innocent!reader, Ghost gives reader an anatomy lesson and teaches reader certain things, fingering, slight angst, no use of y/n, head canon, no descriptions of race, skin color, hair type/length, or body type. Reader is in her 20’s and Ghost is in his late 20’s. This takes place during the Regency Era.

Words: 9.7K (I can explain)

A/N: Rewatched Queen Charlotte in one day and got inspired to somehow write this. Idk what came up in my head but I’m not mad about it. I love historical romance pieces and Bridgerton is one of my favorite shows, so this was inspired by that as well. Must I add, this will be a series (let’s act shocked!) but it’ll start off slow and then progress into something very steamy. I plan on making this 2-3 parts? Not entirely sure yet. I’m so excited to make a playlist and have this become a part of my page. I promised to write a Ghost fic in celebration of 300 followers!!! Thank you!!! That’s all peeps, enjoy this and thanks for reading once again. :)

To be in love, is to touch with a lighter hand. In yourself you stretch, you are well. —Gwendolyn Brooks, “To be in Love.”

The rain drummed loudly against the windows of Kew Palace, a historic refuge steeped in tales of bygone eras. Yet another dismal night had slipped away in silence, the relentless downpour obscuring any sounds of the world outside. The scent of rain, laced with the earthy aroma of centuries-old stone, permeated your room through the slightly ajar windows. Candlelight flickered, casting dancing shadows that played upon the antique furnishings, each one holding its own secrets from a different age. As you gazed out into the night, the blurred outlines of majestic trees in the palace gardens whispered stories of forgotten romances and royal intrigues, echoing through time.

Yet not one memory of romance had ever occurred to you, sadly.

You sat in silence, enveloped by the heavy presence of the palace's servants, who stood as immobile as statues waiting for a command.

The stillness in the room was deafening, capable of giving even the strongest a throbbing headache, yet this oppressive silence was something you had grown accustomed to. It was an everyday affliction, a reminder of your powerlessness and the stifling constraints of your position.

The relentless cycle of attending balls, tea parties, leisurely walks, and grand masquerades had become a mundane routine. None of these activities could dispel the relentless boredom that had settled over your life. Despite the lavish extravagance and social grandeur, they only served to further emphasize your dull amusement.

Unfortunate yet fortunate at the same time, you learned to be grateful for the position you are in now, but the life you have been given to live wasn’t what you enjoyed. That itself is a secret one must never know of.

Your contemplations were abruptly halted as your mother entered the room, her presence commanding immediate attention. You rose gracefully from your seat, bowing with an elegance through years of refinement. With a quick, composed adjustment of your dress, you presented yourself as the embodiment of poise and decorum. And of course, elegance. It was essential to maintain appearances in the relentless world of aristocratic expectations.

All the servants bowed down before their queen. A display of loyalty and respect—a testament to the power she held.

“Mother.”

“Dearest.” Her voice, filled with warmth and affection, broke through the icy layer of your mood. You responded with a genuine smile, one that masked the melancholy you often kept hidden. It was carefully maintained; your mother could never be burdened with your silent suffering. If she were to glimpse even a fraction of the emotions you endured, she would tirelessly pester and lecture, determined to alleviate your pain.

But this was a battle you chose to wage in solitude, for the sake of preserving the family’s reputation and your own fragile sense of independence.

“We have a ball to attend in the celebration of the upcoming arrival of your brother. It is to be held quite soon, though, we are not sure on the date.” Your ears perked and every melancholic emotions you were enduring suddenly became cheerful. Your brother is finally coming, after being gone for a year. Though it felt like centuries he had been gone.

“That is thrilling news, I pray he arrives safe and well. Have you shared this with our other siblings?” Other siblings meant your six siblings, you’re the youngest of eight children, and it’s rather lonely. It feels like.

“Yes, dearest. I have reminded them that a ball will be held soon. The members of the Ton will be attending and it will be grand.” She replied enthusiastically, “though I have something else to share, beloved.”

Your eyebrows rose, and your curiosity piqued. What more could your mother share with you about the ball? You sought more information.

After a brief pause, she continued, “He is arriving with a guest, a Viscount to be precise. This gentleman is to be accorded the utmost respect, just as I have instilled in all of you. He holds a special place in your brother’s heart, and it is imperative that he is welcomed with the same warmth and hospitality that we extend to family.”

You nod, “of course mother. May I know his name?”

“His name is Simon Riley, he is a fine and distinguished gentleman. He holds the rank of Lieutenant General. Quite remarkable if I do say so myself.” She looked at the servants before setting her eyes on you, “He is also very close to your father.” You gasped, for one to be close to the king—your father of all people, was quite rare. Since he is a busy man with important duties he must fulfill.

“I will treat him with the utmost respect, my dearest mother, rest assured.” Having made your commitment clear, you resumed your thoughts, still buzzing with anticipation for your brother’s return and the upcoming ball.

You returned to the chair you sat in before your mother shared important news, resuming in what you were doing before.

“Read a book, darling. You are amazing at that. Do not bore yourself here.” You nod graciously, you found her encouragement as something you deeply appreciated.

“Thank you mother, I shall read.” You made your way to the nearest shelf, curious as to why you haven’t done this earlier. Maybe your mother was right, do not bore yourself with such thoughts and emotions, instead find joy in reading. It helped you get lost in the pages and words, that you forget whatever was going on in that head of yours.

“Ladies, go help my daughter with the books.” Your mother ordered.

“Certainly, Your Majesty.” They all responded.

“It is quite fine mother, I can do this myself.” You assured, nodding to the servants and their faces expressed a puzzled look. Unsure of whom to listen to. “Yes, love, do as you may.”

The servants walk back to the area they had previously stood in, watching you carefully. “I must leave now, love, It is rather late.”

“Goodnight mother.” You make your way to the shelves once again, the area was dimly lit and the bookshelf stood tall. Its polished mahogany wood gleaming softly in the warm glow of a crackling fireplace.

It was calm.

The scent of aged leather and paper makes its way through the air as your peruse the titles, each elegantly bound with gold lettering.

You spot volumes of Jane Austen’s novels, her delicate pages filled with tales of love and societal intrigue. One most famously known as, “Pride and Prejudice.”

Nearby, a collection of poetry by Lord Byron beckons with its romantic verses. The room is adorned with lush velvet draperies and antique furniture, setting the scene for a world where manners, class, and etiquette reign supreme.

Your delicate fingers skim through every romance book there is.

As you select a book and settle into the armchair, the world outside slowly began to fade away. You immerse yourself in the intricate and vivid description, momentarily escaping the constraints of your era into the enchanting world of literature.

(…)

It is the next morning, as the sun timidly filtered through the drawn blinds in your room, its radiant presence compelling you to squint and shield your eyes.

The birds chirped and the sky is painted with bright whites and bright yellows streamed through the window, a sense of lightness enveloped you. Starting the day with a serene countenance, you blinked away the remnants of sleep from your eyes and smiled drowsily. Your fingertips traced the cotton sheets, as you embraced the morning's gentle charm.

You summon the bell in your bedchamber, signaling to the housemaids that you are indeed awake and require a comforting, warm bath drawn. You stand on your own two feet, welcoming the housemaids inside your bedroom assisting in disrobing your white cotton nightgown.

They draw a bath, filling it with steaming water infused with fragrant oils and rose petals. You step into the tub, sinking into the comforting embrace of the warm, scented embrace, a welcome respite from the chill of the morning.

As you soaked in the fragrant bath, your thoughts drifted to the impending ball. You longed for any additional information your mother might have left off about this highly anticipated event, eager for every intricate detail to fuel your anticipation.

Truth be told, your curiosity about meeting Viscount Simon Riley was quite overwhelming. You harbored an occurring hope that he would prove to be the epitome of a true gentleman. Your mother's praises of him fueled your optimism, suggesting he was a man of impeccable character and esteemed authority, which only heightened your eagerness to make his acquaintance.

Excitement was a vast understatement for the emotions coursing through you.

The revelation that Simon was not only close to your father, the King, but also held a special bond with your brother left you astounded. While many men enjoyed proximity to your father and eldest brother, the depth of connection your mother had described set Simon apart from them all. It led you to believe that he was indeed the definition of a true gentleman.

"Ladies, may I inquire if you have all gathered the latest tidbits of information regarding the upcoming ball?" You found yourself pondering, the fragrant bubbles in the warm bath soothing your senses, as you leaned back against the porcelain tub's elegant curves.

"Not quite, Your Highness," she informed, her voice filled with anticipation. "We've heard rumors that hundreds shall grace the occasion." Excitement surged through your entire being. Finally, the time had arrived to mingle with society, to dance, and to revel. It had been several long months since the last grand ball, and the prospect filled you with eager anticipation.

"Are any of you acquainted with Viscount Simon Riley?" Curiosity overtook you, though you couldn't quite fathom why. After all, you hadn't yet crossed paths with the man, and here you were, posing a question of seemingly little consequence to your maids.

They all gasped and stood quiet, maybe you have said something wrong.

"He is not a man of whom one speaks ill of," she responded cautiously, her voice betraying a hint of unease. "Viscount Simon Riley wields significant power and authority. However, Your Highness, that is all I am permitted to share." Her nervousness was evident, as if she were tiptoeing around a topic that carried great weight.

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. This was information your mother had yet to share with you. The maids' description of Viscount Simon Riley sent a shiver down your spine, an ironic sensation given the warmth of the bathwater enveloping you.

"Do not worry, my mother shall remain unaware of this conversation," you assured with a gentle smile and a nod, watching as the tension melted from their bodies.

The curiosity within you compelled you to seek more information. "Can any of you describe his appearance?" You observed the maids exchanging uncertain glances before turning their attention back to you. As warm water continued to flow over your body, their soothing massages on your arms accompanied the anticipation of their response.

“It is okay to tell me,” you reassured with a playful giggle, “once again, mother will not know of this. It is not like you have committed treason!”

"Indeed, Your Highness," she began to speak in hushed tones, her voice carrying an air of trepidation. "Discussing Viscount Simon is a delicate matter. His influence is undeniably formidable, and we speak with a measure of fear." Her concern seemed to stem from the notion that their conversation might somehow reach the ears of this powerful figure.

A shiver of apprehension coursed through you. The maids' fear had a way of rubbing off on you, leaving you with an uneasy feeling about this Viscount Simon.

All excitement about meeting him quickly faded away into the endless void, everything your mother had described about him paled in comparison to the unsettling image the maids were painting of this man.

"Whispers of his enigmatic persona have swept through the highest echelons of society, Your Highness. They speak of him donning a finely crafted mask, shrouding his countenance in secrecy. Only a privileged handful among the Ton have been granted the privilege of glimpsing his true visage, and even the slightest revelation of his features carries the weightiest charge of all – high treason."

You gasped. Oh dear.

"Why does he shroud himself in such mystery?" The quest for information left you yearning for more knowledge. How is it that his existence remained hidden from your awareness until this moment?

Their fearful glances held your attention as they continued, "Your Highness, we remain ignorant of his motives for wearing that ominous mask. Its design, reminiscent of a skull, has earned him the haunting name of 'Ghost' among the hushed whispers of society."

Goosebumps prickled across your skin, and a shiver of fear coursed through you. The once-anticipated ball had transformed into a nightmarish affair, shrouded in dread and uncertainty.

He scared you, and you haven’t even met the man.

"That's enough, ladies. Please, remove this bath swiftly," you commanded. Your mood had done a complete somersault, and now you were acutely aware of your surroundings. It felt as though an ominous presence was creeping into your room, even though he hasn’t arrived yet.

Or maybe he has, but you’ve yet to know.

No no, don’t worry yourself of such horrid thoughts.

You repeat and repeat over and over. The fear of darkness and the ominous weighed heavily on your heart. It was a secret fear, one you dared not share, for you knew that if anyone discovered it, they would only dismiss your worries with laughter and reassurances.

The maids, their hands deft and efficient, hurried over to where you stood by the bath, wrapping you in plush towels to dry your delicate skin. With precision, they helped you into a graceful blue chemise dress, its fabric cool and comforting against your form, the intricate lacework and delicate embroidery adorning it a testament to their impeccable craftsmanship.

Each lace on the dress was adorned with a multitude of tiny individual diamonds, their facets catching even the faintest glimmers of light. The shade of blue, a soft and ethereal hue, served as the perfect canvas for these sparkling gems, making them gleam like stars in the darkness.

"'Tis a truly exquisite chemise," you whispered in admiration, extending your arms gracefully for the maids to slip on your pristine white gloves.

"Made for Her Highness, indeed, just like a rare diamond," your maids complimented, their words like a soothing balm to your nerves. Their unwavering support for uplifting your spirits never failed to bolster your confidence.

"Thank you, ladies. I must take my leave now, as there are matters to discuss with my mother and duties to attend to," you graciously replied, ready to face the responsibilities that awaited you.

(…)

"Yes, Your Majesty. The ball is scheduled for the end of this week, and all is proceeding as planned. Every detail has been meticulously arranged, and all members of the Ton have received their invitations," spoke your mother’s friend at morning call.

She took a delicate sip of her chamomile tea before speaking once more, her voice calm, "That is indeed wonderful news. I pray that everything proceeds without a hitch, and I have the utmost confidence that mishaps shall remain a distant concern." Her friend nods, before turning to you to ask a question.

You straightened your posture and offered a warm smile, "You are truly lovely, my dear. If I may inquire, are you excited for this upcoming ball?" As the question lingered in the air, a torrent of unsettling thoughts flooded your mind. The words of the maids, the mention of the enigmatic "Ghost," and the eerie mask all coalesced into a haunting collage of images. Your body quivered involuntarily, and a palpable sense of unease washed over you, like an ominous shadow creeping into the room.

You masked your true feelings expertly, putting on a facade of excitement. It was clear that your enthusiasm was reserved solely for your brother, not for the Viscount. You knew all too well that you couldn't reveal your fear, so you concealed it behind a carefully crafted persona, concealing the trepidation that lurked beneath the surface.

“Indeed I am quite cheerful. I already know well enough that this ball will be the best of this year.”

She takes a bite of her honey cake, proceeding to invade you with more questions. Questions you were not comfortable answering.

“Well yes…your mother—Her Majesty—is hosting the ball.”

"Ah, yes, of course," you quickly replied, feeling a bit flustered by the reminder. Her raised eyebrow and condescending gaze made you feel like a naive child, an unsettling sensation you couldn't quite shake off.

“Your Majesty, has she not yet met Viscount Riley?” Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of Viscount Riley's name, sending a chill down your spine. The palace suddenly felt much colder, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. It was an uncomfortable and awkward moment for her to bring up such a question in the presence of your mother, Her Majesty.

"I am not privy to such information, my dear. However, I have every confidence that she will excel in his company and extend to him the respect I have diligently imparted. Would you not agree, my dearest?"

You nod graciously, before her friend decided to open her mouth once more with questions that made you shift in your seat. Uncomfortably.

"Forgive my bluntness, Your Majesty, but I have had the privilege of seeing him in person. And, if I may say..." Her voice trailed off, and her response piqued your curiosity, causing your brow to arch. It was evident that she was quite eager to acquire more information about a man you had not yet had the chance to meet.

“He is quite tall,” she began, and your mother adjusted her posture, “he holds such authority and he is not the man to disrespect, he doesn’t speak unless spoken to and most certainly does not show his face to just anyone.”

The maids' prior revelations had served as a disconcerting confirmation. Fear welled up within you, growing like a thunderhead on the horizon, and it cast a foreboding pall over what had once been an eagerly anticipated ball. The event, once a beacon of excitement, had transformed into a looming specter that filled you with apprehension and uncertainty.

“It is quite a mystery, but it is none of our business. Maybe if he is truly as good of a man he is, I will have him marry my daughter.” Your tea to become a chaotic spray, dispersing droplets and saliva particles across the table’s contents. Your cheeks flush crimson as you glance at your mother, her expression clearly reflecting her shock and disapproval.

“Deepest apologies mother, but marriage?” Her lips tightened as you contemplated her words. “If he proves to be a good man, then perhaps. If not, then no. You are two and twenty, it is time you settle down my dearest.”

“I do not know him.”

"Indeed, there is an abundance of time for you to become better acquainted with him," your mother replied with an encouraging smile. Her eyes sparkled with the anticipation of a promising match for her beloved daughter. "I've heard such positive things about Viscount Simon," she continued, her tone brimming with optimism. "He is reputed to be a true gentleman, and I can't help but hold high hopes for your future together, my dearest."

The description of Viscount Simon had already sent shivers of fear down your spine, and the thought of falling in love was an entirely different realm of uncertainty. You wondered if you'd ever experience the kind of love immortalized in poetry and literature, given the enigmatic and potentially imposing nature of this match.

You decided to let the future unfold at its own pace, allowing it to chart its course without rushing or forcing any outcomes.

You held a clear standard for your future husband: he must be a respectful and considerate man, not exhibiting any sexist, disrespectful, misogynistic, or rude behavior. However, if he proved to be the all those things, then marriage would not happen. Your mother, Her Majesty, fully comprehended your stance on the matter.

You valued a man who showed genuine interest in your passions and didn't pass judgment on them. Mutual respect and shared interests were important to you in a potential partner.

While you recognized the significance of politics and manly duties in society, you weren't inclined to marry a man solely focused on these matters. A well-rounded individual who embraced a broader range of interests and pursuits was more appealing to you.

Your mother knew that.

And you prayed the Viscount lived up to to your high standards.

(…)

On the night of the ball, you stood in front of the grand mirror, the flickering candlelight casting a soft, golden glow across your reflection. Your gown, an exquisite creation of silk and lace, clung to your figure in all the right places, its color a subtle shade of pink. The delicate embroidery and beadwork shimmered in the dim light.

Your heart raced, and your gloved hands trembled as you practiced your breathing, trying to calm the storm of nerves within you. The anticipation of meeting Viscount Simon, coupled with the pressure of societal expectations, weighed heavily on your mind. The maids had spared no effort in choosing every accessory, from the intricate hairpin adorning your carefully styled hair to the elegant necklace that graced your neck.

You hoped, with each practiced breath, that tonight would be a turning point, that Viscount Simon would prove to be the gentleman your mother believed him to be, and that the evening would be the start of something meaningful in your life.

——

"Good afternoon, dearest," your father inquired, his arm linked with your mother's. "Where are your siblings?"

You look around, carefully examining the palace in attempt to look for your other siblings, and you’ve caught them. Relief washed over you.

"They are in the library room, Father," you replied. Your gaze wandered over the opulent floral arrangements that adorned the palace. Vibrant blooms graced the staircase and the grand room's tables, filling the air with a fragrant aroma. The Ton had indeed turned out in force for this event, with couples arriving, their arms elegantly linked, creating a sea of fashionable attendees, and not a single person seemed to be without a date.

Although you’re the princess of the United Kingdom, you oddly felt…out of place.

"Mother, you've done a splendid job. This place looks absolutely marvelous," you praised, appreciating the grandeur and elegance that surrounded you. Her smile radiated with warmth, and her pink dress, a few shades darker than yours, effortlessly outshone all the other gowns the ladies wore in the palace, commanding attention with its regal allure.

Diamond encrusted corset with a matching diamond necklace, and many layers underneath the dress made it seem larger.

Of course, it was your mother, the Queen, who had graced the event with her radiant presence. Her regal attire and demeanor left no room for doubt about her esteemed status in the grand ballroom.

“Good evening, Your Majesty.” A man who appeared to be taller than your dad, bowed before him and shook his hand.

“Good evening, John. How is it here compared to the states?” The states? He must be American, you are sure.

“It is rather marvelous here, we don’t host balls as often as you do, but this ball is alluring.” And he is American so it seems, the accent was crisp.

“Thank you, John. I hosted this ball.” He bowed to the queen, your mother, before bowing down to you.

“Well of course, Her Majesty created the most perfect ball.” He complimented. Twirling the ends of his mustache, this was the first time you’ve ever met an American.

Your mother smiled, appreciating his sweet compliment towards her. “I must get back to Kyle, Ghost should be here any minute now Your Majesty.”

The mention of "Ghost" made your nerves prickle with unease, considering the unsettling details your maids had shared during your bath. As John reminded your father that Ghost would be arriving shortly, your stomach tightened with knots of apprehension. The looming presence of this mysterious figure cast a shadow over the otherwise glamorous evening.

“Thank you, John. I am quite cheerful in meeting him. It has been far too long.”

John bowed and left the area.

Your mother's concern deepened as she observed the horrified expression etched across your face. She gently placed a hand on your arm and whispered, "Dear, you look as if you're on the brink of fainting. Please, go to the refreshments and fetch yourself a glass of water. Take a moment to compose yourself." Your motherly care enveloped you, and you nodded, grateful for the suggestion to step away briefly from the anxiety that had gripped you.

The grand ballroom began to feel suffocating, and you yearned for a breath of fresh air, a momentary escape from the overwhelming atmosphere. The need to step outside and simply breathe because it became nearly overwhelming, and you decided it was time for a brief respite.

He will be here soon, and there is no avoiding it. This thought completely gnawed at your insides and there is no place for you to hide.

"Sister, are you feeling well?" your eldest sibling inquired, her cream-colored chemise beautifully complementing her shimmering jewelry. Her concerned gaze met yours, and you could sense that she found something amiss in your expression. The irony was not lost on you, given that you were about to meet a man who also bore the name "Ghost."

"I am feeling rather ill," you responded, fabricating a falsehood to avoid the impending meeting with "Ghost." While part of you wanted to avoid this mysterious figure, there was an even stronger desire to reunite with your dear brother. Your deception was a way to navigate the complex emotions and uncertainty of the evening.

How unfortunate. This man will haunt your dreams.

——

You made your way outside, the chilly breeze sweeping over your face as you finally found a moment to breathe. The cool air provided a welcome respite from the suffocating atmosphere inside, and you closed your eyes, savoring the sensation of liberation that came with each deep breath.

As you’re breathing the cool air, a voice is heard from a distance.

"My dearest sister, always wandering," your brother chuckled warmly as he approached. You turned your head swiftly at the sound of his voice and finally laid eyes on your sibling after many long months. He appeared strikingly different, somehow taller and more muscular, and the transformation left you momentarily speechless with surprise and joy.

"Brother!" You couldn't contain your excitement and ran up to him, welcoming him with open arms. The embrace felt like it lasted an eternity, as you cherished every moment, not knowing how long he would stay. It was a precious reunion, and you wanted to make the most of it.

"How have you been? I suppose everything has been well while I was away?" he inquired, his arms crossed as he surveyed the palace grounds. It was just the two of you outside, and he seemed genuinely interested in catching up on all that had transpired during his absence.

Amid the tranquility of the palace gardens, your brother's question hung in the air, and he observed his surroundings with a mix of nostalgia and curiosity. The evening's hushed elegance enveloped both of you as you began to catch up. He looked different from when you last saw him, and you couldn't help but wonder about the experiences that had shaped him during his time away. It was a moment filled with anticipation, longing, and the joy of reconnecting with your brother.

"It has been quite well! Rather normal," you replied with a smile, acknowledging the routine and calmness that had become the norm in his absence. His head tilted as he teased, "The word you're searching for is 'boring,' isn't it? After all, the fun brother hasn't been around." His hearty chuckle filled the air, bringing a touch of lightheartedness to the conversation.

“That is true. I have missed you a ton.”

“And I have missed you more, my dear sister.”

You couldn't help but glance around, hoping against hope that Viscount Riley had not yet arrived. The idea of facing him at this moment was almost unbearable, and you found yourself anxiously searching the surroundings for any sign of his presence.

How awkward.

"Oh, I thought you arrived with a guest," you blurted out, your hope that he had an emergency and didn't come alone shining through your words. The prospect of meeting "Ghost" or Viscount Riley had filled you with apprehension, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of dread at the thought of encountering him in person. Your brother's response would determine whether your unease would intensify or be somewhat alleviated.

But it was not.

“He is here, in fact, he is inside speaking to our father. I highly suggest you meet him, he is a fine gentleman, though he might frighten some. I can assure you, he means well.”

Meeting him now seemed almost inevitable, and you had to prepare yourself for this encounter with the enigmatic figure.

It is time you met him, to get it over with once and for all.

(…)

Viscount Riley stood before you, his face obscured by a mask that added an aura of mystique to his presence. As you gazed into his eyes, you sensed a depth of emotions and stories waiting to be unveiled. It was a stark contrast to the fear you had felt just moments ago, and now, you found yourself admiring this enigmatic figure, eager to learn more about the man behind the mask.

"Your Highness," his voice, deep and gravely, greeted you. An unfamiliar warmth spread through your stomach, causing your cheeks to flush crimson. It was a sensation you couldn't quite understand. Why did you suddenly feel so flustered in his presence?

"Good evening, My Lord. I extend my gratitude for making the journey to attend this ball," you replied politely, determined to make a favorable first impression, despite your royal status as a princess.

Your mother's friend had not exaggerated; Viscount Riley was indeed exceptionally tall, almost appearing otherworldly. Inhumane. His muscular physique was apparent even beneath the luxurious waistcoat he wore. The choice of an all-black ensemble, combined with the white skull-like mask, added to the air of mystery and intrigue that surrounded him, making his presence all the more imposing.

As Viscount Riley closed the distance between you, a sense of anticipation hung in the air, and your heart quickened with each step he took. His hand, encased in a fine glove, reached out, and you watched in fascination, your gaze locked on his as your brows raised. The atmosphere crackled with unspoken tension, leaving you both on the precipice of an intriguing encounter.

"Care for a dance?" Viscount Riley extended the invitation, his eyes lingering on you as he assessed your presence. His gaze felt almost intimate, as if he were undressing you with his eyes, although you quickly chastised yourself for such inappropriate thoughts. The offer to dance hung in the air, and you considered your response carefully.

You nod, “yes, My Lord.”

"Call me Simon, Your Highness," he suggested, his eyes captivating you with their natural hues in the dim light. They seemed to glisten like moonlight. You hesitated, feeling a mix of intrigue and reluctance. "I'm not sure I am comfortable calling you that," you admitted honestly, the formality of addressing him by his title still lingering between you.

"I have granted you permission, my love. Call me Simon, in private," he whispered softly into your ear, his words tinged with an intimacy that sent a shiver down your spine. His scent, a heady blend of sandalwood, enveloped your senses, and the warmth of his breath against your skin caused a flush of heat to spread through your body, leaving you feeling quite overwhelmed in his presence.

My love.

"Do you know how to dance?" Viscount Simon inquired, his grip on your hand tightening slightly, eliciting a soft gasp from you. As you turned to examine the ballroom, you noticed your family watching with smiles on their faces. "I do, Simon," you whispered, your voice barely audible in the intimate moment you shared.

"How about the waltz? Are you familiar with that?" Viscount Simon's hand slipped behind your back, drawing you closer to him in an intimate embrace. Your mouth hung open in astonishment at his boldness, aware of the watchful eyes of the Ton in the ballroom. The closeness between you two, especially in such a public setting, was bound to attract attention and speculation.

"That…I do not know how to," you admitted truthfully. The waltz was indeed a dance you had never mastered, primarily because it required a partner to perform it. The admission was honest, though it left you feeling somewhat vulnerable in this moment with Viscount Simon.

As he continued to examine you, Viscount Simon couldn't deny the striking beauty that stood before him. The tension between you grew thicker, almost suffocating, and he felt a subtle but undeniable change within himself. His chest rose with each breath, and with every passing moment, he seemed to grow larger, as if the weight of the atmosphere and unspoken emotions were affecting him physically.

“I will teach you, Your Highness.” He took your right hand into his left, wrapping his other large hand behind your waist. Pulling you inches closer, if that were possible. You were practically glued to his body.

Your left hand found its place on Viscount Simon's shoulder, and as your touch made contact, you couldn't help but notice the spark in his eyes intensify, transforming into a fiery gaze. The sensation coursing between you was entirely new and left you feeling uncertain about how to navigate it. Yet, there was one undeniable truth: it felt like the pages of a romance novel coming to life, and the allure of the moment was impossible to ignore.

The world around you seemed to fade away, as he began to guide you through the graceful motions of the dance.

He leaned down to your ear, “tell me, love, have you ever done this with anyone before?” You shook your head nervously.

Viscount Simon was nothing like the enigmatic and intimidating figure you had imagined before. He had swiftly disproven your earlier apprehensions, showing himself to be a skilled and confident dance partner. However, the lingering mystery of his masked appearance still intrigued you. Why did he choose to conceal his identity in such a way? Was it a habit, a comfort, or perhaps a symbol of something deeper? As he expertly swayed you through the dance, all your earlier fears seemed to melt away, replaced by a growing sense of fascination and curiosity about this complex man.

“What is going on in that head of yours?”

"I am just trying to be focused, My Lord," you replied, a touch of nerves still present in your voice. He cleared his throat before offering words of encouragement, "You are doing great. Don't think too hard about it, or you'll make a mistake." His reassurance helped ease some of the tension, and you tried to follow his lead with more confidence, allowing the rhythm of the dance to guide your steps.

“Everyone in the room are watching us.”

"Imagine it's just us, Your Highness. Nothing to fret," Viscount Simon whispered, his words a soothing balm to your nerves. With that simple suggestion, you closed your eyes for a brief moment, allowing yourself to immerse in the moment, focusing solely on the dance and the connection you shared, the world around you fading into the background.

"Very well done," Viscount Simon praised, a touch of warmth in his voice. His encouragement and guidance continued to make the dance feel like a shared experience, and you found yourself becoming more at ease with each step, as though the world outside this dance floor had ceased to exist.

The instrumental music slowly started to fade away, as you became enchanted under his mysterious gaze.

In the mesmerizing dance with Viscount Simon, you counted each step and movement carefully. One, a step forward, followed by several backward steps. Then, you counted to two as he gracefully led you to the side, and you followed his lead with precision, completely entranced by the rhythm and grace of the waltz.

"May I ask you a few questions?" you inquired, looking up at Viscount Simon. Or should you call him simply Simon? Your curiosity about the man behind the mask had grown steadily throughout the dance, and now seemed like the perfect opportunity to satisfy it.

"Yes, Your Highness," Viscount Simon replied, his tone respectful as you continued to dance in harmony.

"How long have you been in the military? I can only imagine it's been quite some time," you mused, curious about the path that had led him to his current station. Viscount Simon's physical fitness and the air of intrigue that surrounded him certainly hinted at a rich and varied history. Those eyes of his seemed to hold countless untold stories, and you couldn't help but be drawn to the mystery that shrouded his past.

"I am quite intrigued that someone has inquired about this, especially the princess. It's an honor," Viscount Simon began, a hint of appreciation in his voice. He continued, "I've served in the military for a considerable duration." His sigh hinted at a deeper story. "But I must wonder, why do you ask, Your Highness?" There was a curious and genuine note in his inquiry, as if he too was interested in the motives behind your questions.

His question took you off guard, and you momentarily pause for a moment. Heat swept across your face, and your stomach felt like a hundred butterflies were attacking it at once.

You clear your throat, preparing yourself to speak the truth.

"Well, your physique does suggest you've had a long tenure in the British military," you stated, your words coming out more bluntly than you had intended. You looked away, feeling a bit embarrassed by your straightforward observation. It was as if the words had slipped out of their own accord, revealing your unfiltered thoughts about him.

His head tilts as you both continue the dance, the tension became thicker in the moment.

“I’m glad you’ve noticed that, you have quite the eye darling.”

"I suppose it is rather evident," Viscount Simon replied with a good-natured chuckle, acknowledging the obvious. His height and impressive physical presence were indeed difficult to overlook, and it was refreshing to engage in such candid conversation with him.

“I would like to continue this conversation another time, Your Highness.” The music stopped, and suddenly your heart ached.

The fear and apprehension you had felt before meeting Viscount Simon now seemed misplaced and misjudged. Shame washed over you as you realized that your initial impressions had been far from accurate. Emotions you had never experienced before welled up within you, and you found yourself struggling to process this newfound connection and the complex feelings it stirred within you.

"You look quite sick, Your Highness. Should I summon a doctor?" Viscount Simon's concern was evident in his voice, and he signaled his readiness to assist. However, you shook your head, declining the offer. His expression shifted, and the color of his eyes darkened noticeably. The once-bright stars in his gaze seemed to fade, leaving a shadow of concern and curiosity in their wake.

"I must retire to my bedchamber at once. It seems I may have eaten something disagreeable," you explained, offering a plausible reason for your sudden discomfort. As you made your exit, you couldn't help but reflect on the unexpected attachment you had felt during the dance. Was it the chemistry that had taken you by surprise, or the disappointment of the dance ending so soon when you had secretly wanted it to continue? The confusion within you left you with much to ponder as you retreated from the ballroom.

You heard heavy footsteps in the distance, and you face the sound. Heart beating so fast and hard that you’re afraid it’ll break your ribcage.

Your eyes widened as you glanced back, catching the intense gaze of the tall man in the distance—Viscount Simon. The burning sensation in your stomach flared once more, and your heart raced at the unexpected encounter. It seemed that your paths had crossed again, and the intrigue surrounding him deepened further.

“My Lord, you are not permitted in this area,” you stuttered, your voice trembling with a mixture of surprise and unease. Viscount Simon’s inhumanly towering presence had a profound effect on you, causing your knees to grow weak and your heart to race.

The unexpected encounter left you feeling both vulnerable and intrigued, uncertain of what would come next.

Viscount Simon continued to approach you, seemingly unperturbed by your protest. His voice, when he spoke, carried a darker, gravely, and husky timbre, each word rolling off his tongue with a depth that sent shivers down your spine. It was a voice that held a mysterious allure, and as he drew nearer, you found yourself captivated by the man before you.

“You are still not allowed here, My Lord. Unless are married to me or if you have permission to do—“ he interrupted you for a brief moment, your breath hitched. “Do I have your permission?”

His simple question held a weight that left you questioning your own dignity and morals. "I-I suppose you may. I don't believe you'd cause any harm," you replied tentatively, your nerves causing you to fidget with your hands.

Viscount Simon took note of your hesitation and reached out to gently take your hands in his own. His touch was surprisingly rough and calloused, yet it had a calming effect on your frayed nerves. The unexpected gesture further deepened the sense of connection between you two, leaving you both intrigued and comforted by the enigmatic man before you.

The entire experience felt like something out of a romance novel, a dream brought to life. It was something you had never been entirely sure would happen to you, yet now, it had. The enchanting dance, the mysterious encounter with Viscount Simon, and the complex emotions that had unfolded were all like a dream come true, turning the pages of a story you had never expected to live.

“Open the door, the guards are all downstairs, no need to fret.” He demanded, in a gentle manner.

You obediently opened the door, allowing Viscount Simon to enter. As he stepped into your bedroom, a breeze swept in from the open window, which you had forgotten to close before attending the ball. The cool air helped alleviate the heat on your flushed face, and you welcomed the refreshing sensation, finding comfort in the natural element that had invited itself into your bedroom.

"This is my bedroom," you announced, leading Viscount Simon on a brief tour. You observed him as he moved toward your bed and the bookshelf. His large hands gently skimmed over the rows of books, and his eyes, visible through the skull-like mask, carefully scanned the titles.

“I didn’t take you for such a romance reader, Jane Austen, Your Highness?”

You noticed his finger resting on “Pride and Prejudice” and felt compelled to explain. “Yes, most of them are by Jane Austen, but her works are more than just romance,” you informed him, eager to share your love for literature.

“Excuse me, but there’s not a single book here that is not romance.” His interest in your personal space and choice of reading material piqued your curiosity even further. “Are you an expert perhaps?”

"No, I am not," you admitted, your tone laced with a hint of shame. The vulnerability in sharing this aspect of yourself with Viscount Simon revealed a layer of your character that you hadn't expected to expose during this encounter.

"I can teach you some things from these books, unless you already possess the knowledge," Viscount Simon offered. He selected a random chapter from one of the books and began to read aloud, his gaze eventually shifting back to you.

With his arms now crossed, the buttons on his vest seemed on the verge of bursting due to the muscles that strained against it. The prospect of learning from him, coupled with the undeniable physical presence he exuded, left you intrigued and eager to explore this connection further.

"Knowledge of what?" you inquired, your curiosity piqued by his statement. As Viscount Simon approached you, his every step seemed to carry a weight of its own, and you couldn't help but notice the way his breaths grew heavier, causing his chest to rise with each intake of air.

His masked face concealed most of his expressions, but his eyes continued to hold your attention, revealing a shift in his demeanor that intrigued you even more.

"May I, Your Highness?" Viscount Simon asked softly as he gently lifted your chin with his index finger, tilting it upward until your gazes locked completely. The sudden and intimate gesture left you gasping for air, and a rush of emotions from earlier returned with a renewed intensity. In that moment, it felt as if the world outside your shared space had ceased to exist.

You nodded, still unsure of what he was asking for, and confusion clouded your thoughts. Suddenly, Viscount Simon closed the distance between the two of you, narrowing the gap until you were in close proximity, and your breaths seemed to synchronize in that intimate space.

His lips were soft, and everything you read in the books are now suddenly real.

Viscount Simon’s right hand gently cradled the back of your neck, securing you in his embrace as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. His kiss was passionate, intense, and consuming, leaving you both breathless and addicted to the taste and sensation of each other. In this private room that had once held your deepest secrets, it now bore witness to your first kiss, a moment that defied propriety but felt undeniably right in that intoxicating connection between you two.

In the midst of the heated kiss, every thought and worry seemed to vanish from your mind. Viscount Simon's warm tongue ventured into your mouth, igniting a rush of desire that left you breathless. You held onto his vest with a desperate grip, the fabric of his waistcoat beneath your fingertips offering an anchor in the whirlwind of sensations that coursed through you. The world outside ceased to exist as you both lost yourselves in this intimate exchange, a forbidden connection that felt undeniably intense and irresistible.

He must’ve kept all this encased during the dance…

Viscount Simon's strong hand cupped your face, holding you tenderly as the intensity of the kiss grew. His groans of pleasure became more pronounced, and the raw desire in his sounds threatened to melt you into a puddle beneath him. The fire in your belly surged, an insatiable heat that refused to be extinguished. Every vein in your body seemed to pulse with desire as you couldn't help but wonder where he had been all this time, and why it had taken so long for your paths to cross in such an electrifying way.

"You... taste delicious," Viscount Simon murmured as he pulled away from the kiss, a thin string of saliva briefly connecting your reddened and swollen lips before breaking. Both of you were left breathless, taking moments to regain your composure as you watched Simon also catch his breath. His remark left you feeling dizzy and uncertain about what had just transpired, and the lingering question of why it had happened hung in the air between you.

“My Lord, why did you kiss me just now?” You broke the silence, and he looks up at you, still panting.

“I sincerely apologize for my actions, Your Highness, but I couldn’t keep it in anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

Your voice wavered with a mix of desire and frustration as you implored, "Stop asking me such questions before I do something completely and utterly outrageous." The tension between you and Viscount Simon had reached an almost unbearable peak, and your words conveyed both the temptation and the peril of this magnetic connection that had ignited between you.

Your brows furrow, “I don’t understand what I did, My Lord.”

"Simon, Your Highness," he corrected, his tone both firm and possessive as he closed the distance between you once again. The formality mingled with intimacy in his address, emphasizing the complexity of your connection and the roles you both occupied in this uncharted territory of desire and longing.

Suddenly, Viscount Simon began to undress your chemise, leaving you with only your undergarments. Your voice quivered as you confessed, "Simon, I was told this was not allowed unless I am married..." The touch of his hands against your skin felt like lava, igniting a blazing heat that coursed through your body. The boundaries and proprieties that had once defined your world seemed to blur and fade in the face of this overwhelming desire and vulnerability.

“Do you want this?” He asked, a simple question that made you answer it in less than a second. You wanted to shout “yes” but that was deemed highly inappropriate. So you kept quiet and all you did was nod, though, Simon kept asking.

“A nod won’t do, Your Highness. I need to know if you want me to touch you, to kiss every inch of your body, to explore depths no other man has ever explored, and to tell you that you are mine. Do you want that?”

In that suspended moment, you gazed at him in awe, realizing that every description he had given you, every hint of desire and passion he had conveyed, was everything you had been longing for. It was everything you so desperately wanted. The anticipation that had built within you had finally reached its culmination, and now, in this moment, it had all become a breathtaking reality.

"I want you to do all of the above," you confessed in a breathy, fervent tone. In that intimate moment, you could discern the expression in Viscount Simon's eyes behind his mask, and the desire and hunger mirrored in his gaze confirmed the depth of the connection you both shared.

Lust.

Viscount Simon began to unbutton his vest and everything else beneath his waistcoat, gradually revealing his sculpted torso. Each chiseled muscle seemed to tell a story of years of hard work and sacrifice, with every scar etching its own narrative.

Unable to contain your fascination, you traced your fingers delicately across each scar, causing Simon to flinch at your touch. The intimacy of this moment, where you explored the physical evidence of his past, deepened the connection between you even further.

You asked in a voice tinged with sadness, “When and how have you gotten these?” Your fingers continued to trace the scars on his torso, and a part of you wished that he had never had to endure the pain and suffering that each mark represented.

“I would like to talk about these another time, I don’t want to ruin this moment, love.” You understood.

He gets up from off his knees and places both his hands besides you, you sat on the edge of the bed as he leans towards your face. “Would you like me to undress you, Your Highness?”

"You may," you breathed in response, your need for his touch growing more intense with each passing moment. Viscount Simon didn't completely undress you; instead, he lifted your petticoat all the way up to your waist, exposing your white cotton undergarments to him. Overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, you hid your face, unable to meet his gaze as your desire and vulnerability laid bare before him.

"In all my years of living, I've never seen someone so perfect," Viscount Simon whispered, his words of admiration sending shivers down your spine. He lowered his face to your thighs, and you gasped at the sensation of his soft lips and warm breath trailing across your bare skin. He left a trail of peppered kisses as he slowly made his way to your most sacred and intimate spot, igniting a fiery passion between you that seemed to transcend time and place.

Simon hooks his fingers on the band of your undergarment, and slid them off, leaving you completely bare in front of him. His jaw locks, looking at you like you’re the prey and he’s the predator, ready to devour his meal and fulfill his hunger.

"What are you going to do?" you questioned, your voice filled with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty. Despite your previous experiences with literature and romance, this moment was uncharted territory, and you found yourself both intrigued and apprehensive about what might come next.

He completely ignored your question, taking his finger and touching it on your most sensitive spot. You gripped the cotton sheets, it became victim to your tight hold.

“Your Highness, this spot right here, may cause some discomfort.” He warned, his rough finger circling the bud slowly.

You struggled to breathe, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you found it difficult to form the right words. Your senses were overwhelmed, and your mind raced as you desperately tried to find your voice and articulate your thoughts in this intense and intimate moment.

Small whines and moans left your mouth, putting Simon in a haze. “Now right here,” his finger slid down your throbbing folds, “may hurt, darling.”

You balance yourself on both your elbows, seeing the intense sight in front of you. Simon’s head was in between your legs, and his fingers were on your cunt.

His middle finger enters a part of you that made you let out a scream in response, he may have warned you before, but it still hurt. “Did I hurt you, love? If you’d like me to stop, I can.”

"No, please," you assured him, your voice trembling with both desire and reassurance. "I assure you, I am fine." His hands remained firmly pressed against your thighs, and you welcomed him further into this intimate connection, surrendering to the intoxicating sensations that washed over you.

“Tell me when you’d like me to stop, my princess.”

My Princess. That alone let a moan escape your lips.

His finger began to slide in and out, and the sensations that surged through you left you breathless. It was a mix of pleasure and pain, a new and overwhelming experience that had your body tingling with desire and your mind racing with sensations you had never felt before.

"Oh, Simon..." you whimpered, your head thrashing from side to side as he continued to pay no heed to your whimpers and moans. His mouth descended to your most intimate place, and he began to explore you fully, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body as you surrendered to the exquisite sensations that washed over you.

“Stay still.” He ordered, ignoring your protests as his hands make their way to your waist and back to your thighs. Gripping them as if he’s scared you’re going to somehow leave his hold. His tongue laps against your entrance as his finger continued to slide inside and out, then quickly adding a second finger.

“Simon!” you screamed, your voice echoing through the room, unable to contain the overwhelming sensation that surged through you. The knots in your stomach tugged tighter, intensifying the anticipation as you neared the peak of ecstasy, the culmination of desire and longing.

Your legs instinctively wrap around his head, their delicate silk fabric clinging tightly as his warm breath tickles your inner thighs. With each gentle brush of his nose against your bud, a delicious shiver of anticipation courses through your body, intensifying the electric connection between you.

And there, you couldn’t take it anymore. You unraveled underneath him as he continued to devour you, his grip intensified as you thrashed your head around. Every delicate moans escaped your mouth, and you thought you’d never make these noises in your life, yet here you are.

“You are bloody delicious, my love, so sweet.” He kissed your thighs as he hovers over you. His breathe heaving and his chest covered in sweat. You couldn’t deny the attractiveness in front of you, it was almost impossible how someone could look this good in a mask.

"Thank you, Simon," you expressed your gratitude, and in his mysterious eyes, a glint of admiration shimmered like a hidden treasure in the depths of a secret world you had just begun to explore together.

“It is my honor, Your Highness. I am sure the next time we visit, it won’t be the same as this.”

"What do you mean?" you asked, your curiosity piqued, and an unspoken desire that he would stay by your side forever welled up within you. He sighed, his breath carrying the weight of unspoken truths, and his eyes held a depth of emotions that begged to be explored further.

"I mean, Your Highness," he began, his voice holding a note of determination, "that I will never let you go. I intend to reveal the deeper parts of myself to you, and I will slowly begin to show and teach you everything you desire to know." His words carried a promise of a journey into the unknown, an exploration of desires and emotions that lay hidden beneath the surface.

“I realized now more than ever, that I need you.”

——

NOTE: HOLY!!! This took a week (omg) and now it’s finally done. I’m actually so proud of this. Let me know if you’d like to be in the taglist. Once again, thank you all for reading my peeps! :) this was a promise made by me! Also, I may have watched Bridgerton hundreds of times and Queen Charlotte and all of those shows etc etc, but if there’s something historically incorrect, please inform me! I would love to correct it for future readers. Thanks once again!

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worth-the-chaos · 4 months

Text

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

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

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

Word Count: 6.5k

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

Series Masterlist | Part 3 | Next Part

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” Steve replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, well, well, look who it is?”

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

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

“Wait, what?”

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

“Steve?!”

“And bring your binoculars and wrist rocket.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Even if you do?”

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

“Then what?” Dustin asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What type is y/n,” Dustin asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

“I’m Max.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You see him?” You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened?” Lucas asked.

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Promise.”

***

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

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