ali☆

*ੈ✩‧₊˚masterlist!ㅤ♡

Joe Keery characters:

Gator Tillman:

★ just like him. - after your son’s late night upset, Gator reacts inappropriately. mortified and guilty, he accepts your supports and learns he isn’t his father.

★ horrid reflection - Gator’s getting older. And when he looks in the mirror all he sees in the reflection is Roy and his past staring back at him.

★ i’ll always be there - when you fall ill at a Tillman family get together, it’s revealed to you just how caring Gator can be.

★top shelf - pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4 - Gator helps you reach the top shelf at the grocery store and enters your life.

☆ pure (coming soon!)

☆ that damn guitar (coming soon!)

Kurt Kunkle:

★ not just in the game - when you snuggle down with Kurt to show him your new game, seeing the two of you as Miis in love floods Kurt’s heart with joy.

Steve Harrington:

★ honesty - when washing up doesn’t go to plan, you and steve learn how important it is to communicate.

★ expectations - You and Steve bickered like a married couple in highschool, but when you rediscover the romantic tension between you after a night with the kids, matured Steve exceeds your expectations.

Baron Lamram:

☆ what about us? (coming soon!)

Travis ‘Teacake’ Meacham:

☆ stupid song (coming soon!)

Walter ‘Keys’ McKey:

loading…

Sean Lockwood:

★ fame is a gun - You walk in on Sean doing drugs in your own home.

Ryan Gosling characters:

Lars Lindstrom:

★ across the road - Lars’ morning routine is interrupted by a moving van across the road. Unknown to him, his life will change thanks to that van and a gentle knock on the door.

★ begged - pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, - life with Lars has been nothing but bliss, but eventually a mindless touch becomes the tipping point for him.

★ masculinity - Lars needs reassurance that he’s masculine enough.

★ a bun in the oven - when you’re pregnant with your second child, Lars helps out around the house and deals with the cute chaos of a toddler.

Ken:

★ new barbie - when a new barbie appears in Barbie Land, Ken is confused by his feelings. she doesn’t look like all the others, but maybe that’s why he takes such a liking to her.

Holland March:

loading…

Ryland Grace:

loading…

Colt Seavers:

loading…

Driver:

loading…

Gator Tillman had wriggled his way into your life like a worm.

Everyday after a shift, he’d come over to check on you and help out with anything that needed doing, whether that be making food, baby preparations or even just being someone you could talk to. So much so you’d even gotten a dark green key cut for him, explaining that you thought the colour ‘fit his aura’.

Money had still been an issue for you, but Gator didn’t mind covering your weekly shop or getting you anything you desired. You wished you could do more for him in return, but he’d always tell you is was fine, give you his card and smiled that smile which always filled you with warmth.

Overtime, it had become clear that the relationship between the two of you was certainly more than friends, but nothing had been said for clarity, leaving you and your teeny huge crush on him secretly hoping he felt the same way.

~*~*~*~*~

It’s a crisp Monday morning in the middle of November, frost creeping in through the draft and a light blanket of snow dusted over your lawn. Layered up under cozy coats and autumnal jumpers, you were getting ready for yet another baby scan, your due date being mere weeks away. As you’re lacing up your leather winter boots, a buzz echoes out from your phone.

🐊: good morning angel

you: good morning gates =]

🐊: u need anything 2day

you: I think I’ll be okay thanks. I’ve got a baby scan in a bit but after that I’m free if you want to come for dinner! :p

🐊: baby scan? the doctors is a 30min walk from ur house

you: it’ll be a whimsical winter walk

🐊: omw

Okay… change of plan.

With a giggle, you put down your phone. Gator had become endearingly protective over you and your baby girl. Any chance he got, he’d message or call to make sure you were okay and didn’t need anything. Every so often, he even dropped off little gifts for you or the baby.

One day, it was a small stuffed sheep with comically big eyes and a ‘c’ shaped smile. Gruffly, he’d told you he saw it in Walmart and thought your little baby would like it, murmuring something about it being stupid anyway.

Another day, it was a DVD of La La Land, telling you he’d seen it in a thrift store and remembered you loved it. Each time he mentioned a little thing you loved, or remembered something you’d mentioned offhand in a random conversation a million Tuesdays ago, it felt like your heart was growing three sizes.

So the fact that Gator had offered told you he was picking you up? You were pretty sure you looked like a tomato with how much you were blushing.

~*~*~*~*~

Snow crunched under the wheels of Gator’s patrol car as he drove you to the doctor’s office. Throughout the drive, his hand had slowly and hesitantly ended up on your thigh, fingers completely frozen as if you’d never notice it was there if he kept still. Placing a soft hand over his, you looked over at him with a smile so warm his heart melted into a puddle like the snow on the sidewalks.

Once you arrive, Gator helps you out if the car, a protective hand over your bump. As the two of you walk up to the door, he tenses as he spots a familiar truck parked across the street.

A truck with ‘Stark County Sheriff’s Department’ written on the side.

~*~*~*~*~

“Well, Momma, I can confidently say your baby girl is looking fit as a fiddle!” Marge, your midwife, beams as she points to the screen, your baby a white silhouette.

Gator’s hand is yet again placed on your thigh, his thumb rubbing in absentminded circles. When is big brown eyes meet yours, they’re filled with nothing but absolute awe for you. For the fact you’ve grown a baby. For the fact that your little girl is strong. Gazing into his eyes, you also notice how suspiciously watery they are.

Once he sees you noticing, he looks away and quickly rubs his eyes. Murmuring a quiet, “Just got somethin’ in my eyes…”

~*~*~*~*~

As you and Gator leave hand in hand, he tenses up yet again, placing you slightly behind him with a hand on your bump.

“Gate?” Eyebrows furrowing, you try to catch his stern gaze.

Following his eye-line, you spot the one man you’d never want to see. Leaning up the side of the ‘Stark County Sheriff’s Department’ truck across the street is none other than Roy Tillman.

“Gator, let-let’s just go.” You say worriedly, eyes flicking between him and Roy.

Gaze never leaving his father, Gator walks you to his car, covering you with his body.

“Get in. Lock the door. I’ll be back.” He mumbles, brain occupied with how he’ll get out of trouble.

Once the door is locked with a click, he makes his way over to Roy.

There’s no shouting, no hitting at all. Just stern words and hurtful phrases hitting weak spots in Gator’s ego. His face is a painting of pain, gaze locked to the floor and muscles tense.

You can’t tell what Roy is saying, but you know for a fact it isn’t good.

Once Gator finally gets back in the car, he immediately pulls out his kiwi lime blast vape, taking a hit and blowing it out of the window.

Staring ahead, he huffs.

“Fuckin’ old man knows nothin’.” He shakes his head and scoffs, devoid of any humour.

“He don’t get it! Saying I should fuckin’ leave ya. No fuckin’ way. It don’t matter none if yer pregnant.” Gator’s eyes flick to you and then back ahead.

“He don’t get how much you mean to me. Fuckin’… yer ma world.”

“Gate…” Placing a hand on his thigh, you try to catch his gaze.

…

“Gator look at me please.”

Brown doe eyes meet your own, and his face has never looked so soft.

“I’m… I’m your world?” Beaming, you squeeze his thigh.

His eyes flick down to your lips, his own parting slightly as he lets out a quiet breath.

Slowly, Gator begins to lean in, giving you plenty of time to pull away.

You don’t.

Once his lips meet yours, you get your answer.

You were Gator’s world.

And he was yours.

taglist: @djolivia @jazzytillman @oneddjo @louisbelongstome28 @ch3rryshark @kristywidget97 @stormyquirkyfan @projections-mortal @arayajasmynee @soggycerealtbh @midnightramble @exooojongdaeee @keerygirlie98 @ophelialilly @kensley-11 @rafevillain @dreamerjj

The first trimester of your pregnancy had certainly not been treating you well.

On top of your aching back and swollen ankles, most mornings were spent hunched over the toilet, your mind buried in a pile of nausea.

Whenever you were feeling well enough to drag yourself to the grocery store, you’d always be delighted to see your favourite deputy waiting for you.

Seeing Gator had become one of the little interactions you looked forward to. The two of you had gone from mumbled hellos to full blown chats about life and the weather. Having told Gator about your pregnancy, he’d shocked himself with how… protective he had gotten.

Gator didn’t think himself to be the kind of man to ever want kids. Didn’t care for them, really. But deep down he knew it was the quiet fear deep in his bones that he’ll turn out just like his father, and he wouldn’t dare put anyone through that.

But when it came to you, Gator wanted nothing more than to shield you from the monsters of the world. He didn’t mind the fact that you had life inside of you, a baby which would soon grow into a tiny version of you. In fact, he was excited. Each week, he loved seeing how you had grown, or being shown any new scan photos. His favourite update being that day you told him the little foetus was a sweet baby girl.

Any baby of yours was simply an addition to the wonder that was you. ‘Angel’ he’d call you, because in Gator’s mind, you had been sent down as a blessing. Someone who could distract and heal him from the quiet horrors he endured and who would prove to him how perfect the would could be. All he wanted to do was see you happy.

In summary, Gator was infatuated.

So, when you called him for help on a foggy Wednesday morning, Gator dropped everything. Luckily, he wasn’t on patrol, so he sped to your house with a bag filled with your weekly groceries (including your favourite food, fusilli, which you insisted on calling ‘swirly pasta’.)

You’d told him you were feeling sicker than usual that day, and that you needed help getting out of bed and making some food, and to your surprise, he happily obliged.

~*~*~*~*~

thump thump thump

As the noise of Gator’s strong knock echoes through your house, you text him.

angel: key is under the mat! c:

Huffing out a laugh at your little analogue emoji, Gator grabs the key and steps inside.

Calling out your name, he locks the door behind him before placing the bag of goods onto your marble kitchen counter.

Out of curiosity, he opens up your fridge to find it nearly empty. He knew you’d struggled with finding the money for necessities, having seen your baren shopping cart and clothes with the odd hole, but he didn’t realise it was to this extent. Heart pounding with the unfamiliar feeling of worry, he shuts the fridge and straightens himself back up.

“I’m in bed!” You weakly shout down to Gator, voice rough around the edges from having just woken up.

Bounding up the stairs, he steps into your bedroom and is met with the sight of you wrapped up in bed, tired eyes and a weak smile, and the view practically cracks his heart in two.

“Gate! Oh thank you so much for coming.” Attempting to sit up, you whimper in pain and Gator rushes to your side.

“Don’t mention it angel. What d’ya need me to do?” A calloused hand on your back, he helps you sit up, smoothing over your hair with care.

“I’m just hungry,” you look almost embarrassed as you finish your sentence, “I don’t know if there’s much in the kitchen bu-“

“I brought groceries. What d’ya want?”

You gaze fills with shock.

“Gator, you got me-? Why?”

At your question, he simply shrugs.

“Don’t stress it, just tell me what you want, stubborn woman.”

~*~*~*~*~

As the morning drifts into night, Gator finds himself sat in your baby’s nursery, currently wrestling with a bedside table.

Maybe he should read the instructions next time.

“I really appreciate the help Gator.” Smiling, you lean against the cot as you watch him tighten the last screw on the table.

“It’s nothin’” He mumbles gruffly, but his tone is nothing but caring.

Standing up, his gaze catches yours.

“You need anythin’ before I go?”

All day Gator had been helping with baby preparations, making food and holding back your hair when familiar nausea flooded your senses.

“I’m all good now thanks to you.”

The smile on your face fills Gator with a rare sense of home.

God, you were going to be the death of him.

“You get to restin’ now, call me if you need anythin’ else.” And for once, Gator smiles. It’s imperfect, not practiced or symmetrical, but it’s Gator’s.

And once the door shuts, you wish you could just run outside and tell him to stay.

taglist: @jazzytillman @djolivia @dreamerjj @kneelarmhstrung @oneddjo @qardasngan @kristywidget97 @ch3rryshark @louisbelongstome28 @stormyquirkyfan @projections-mortal @arayajasmynee @soggycerealtbh @midnightramble @exooojongdaeee

You had never expected to be married to a movie star.

Sean was your ideal man. Witty, funny, bold and devastatingly handsome, as many critics (and you) had agreed. Life was perfect. A lovely house you could while away your days in, a loving husband at your every beck and call, and enough happiness to fill the Atlantic.

But Sean had one tiny huge issue.

With fame came money, and with money came drugs.

Launch parties, private events, press tours - all of them ended in Sean sneaking off with some other celebrities and snorting lines until his eyes grew crimson from his irritated blood vessels.

Multiple times you’d tried to talk him out of it, tell him of the effects that drugs had, but he just didn’t listen. The one thing which didn’t make it so bad was the fact that he never did it around you. If he wanted to destroy his body, he certainly wasn’t going to do it in the comfort of his own home.

Well, that was until you had caught him.

After having a long day at work, all you wanted was to lay in your husband’s arms. Shoes clacking as you walked down the hall, you opened the door to your shared bedroom, ready to throw on some pyjamas and relax, but the sight you’re met with takes your breath away.

Sean. Sat at the desk. Doing coke.

To say you were livid was an understatement.

“What the fuck Sean!?” Your voice echoes through the room as you storm over to him.

Eyes widened in shock and guilt, Sean darts up from his seat and over to you, sending the tray of drugs tumbling to the floor.

Your throat grew tighter and your vision grew blurry as he stuttered out an excuse.

“Hey-hey! Listen! I was- I was just-“

“Just what Sean? Fucking- doing lines in our bedroom?”

His hands were up in front of him as if to show his innocence.

“It’s not what it- I just had to! I couldn’t wait any longer!”

Shoving him away, tears rolled down your cheeks like rain on a window.

“You wanna ruin your life? Fine! But you can do it the fuck away from my house!”

Your husband’s gaze met yours, his full of devastation and regret. All he wanted to do was pull you into his arms and take it all back.

“How many times do I have to tell you? There’s other ways to relax. There’s things you can do! There- there’s people to talk to. Like me-” Your hands swiftly wipe at your wet face.

“I hate seeing you do this to yourself, Sean.” Hiccuping sobs fall from your mouth as your head drops against his chest, his eyes wide with his own tears.

Hesitantly, two strong arms wrap around you as you mumble your upset into his neck.

“Baby-“ Sean’s plea is cut off by your hand weakly slamming against his chest.

“C’mon baby… I’m so sorry.” Another hit.

He took hit after hit, your fists pounding against his front, not strong enough to hurt but firm enough that he got the message - I’m fucking fuming.

“You don’t know how sorry I am. It’s an issue I desperately need to fix.”

Sean’s hands gently cupped your cheeks, lifting your gaze to his. Tucking your hair out of your hot and bothered face, he placed a tender kiss on your forehead.

“One more chance, angel. Please.”

With a deep breath, you think.

…

…

…

“Fine. This is your last chance. I’ll do anything I can to help you quit but pull this shit again and I’ll-“

“Alright, angel. I swear, okay?”

“‘Kay.”

Sean nods and after a few beats, he scoops you up into his shaking arms.

“I love you, mi amore.”

With a sniffle and a giggle, you rest your head in the crook of his neck.

“Love you too, idiota.”

taglist: @qardasngan @dreamerjj @djolivia @oneddjo

It had been a couple weeks since your first run in with a certain handsome cop at the grocery store. And it was safe to say things had changed.

As luck would have it, you’d seen the cop every Tuesday since; he’d pass you your bag of pasta, wish you a good day, and disappear down the aisle before you could brush away your butterflies and formulate a response.

In addition, your stomach has since swelled with the life growing inside of it, and your bank balance had shrunk.

Being a single mother wasn’t all you had expected, your manchild of an ex having left you high and dry after finding out about your pregnancy. Sure, It was hard having to pay for baby things and necessities, but you hoped knew you’d be able to push through.

So now, your mission was to simply make it through the week.

It’s another Tuesday, and you’re once again stood infront of the pasta shelf, neck craned and eyebrows furrowed as you stare up at the bag of swirly pasta. There’s no point in trying to get up on your tippy toes - knowing you’d practically tip over from your centre of balance being changed due to your baby.

Where is your cop?

“Darlin’” You can hear the smirk in his voice before you even turn to face him.

“I was starting to think you weren’t coming.” Teasing him, you watch as he grabs the bag with ease.

“Wouldn’t miss this for the world, angel.” His calloused fingers brush yours as he passes you the bag, and you gaze up at him with doe eyes and a soft smile.

“You got a name or do I gotta keep callin’ you darlin’?” He drawls.

Once you tell him your name, he repeats it with a smile, as if he’s testing how It feels on his tongue.

“What’s your name?”

“Gator Tillman. Deputy Gator Tillman.” He drawls, a smirk growing across his face.

“Ooo deputy huh?” With a giggle, you place the bag into your cart, the groceries in it decreasing by the week.

Gator’s eyes flick down to your cart and a flash of something shatters his soft expression.

“Ain’t got much in there, sugar. Y’right?” Brows furrowed, he leans down to catch your gaze once again, his filled with concern.

“I’m okay, thank you.” You smile and nod, not wanting him to worry, “Have a good week Deputy!” As you push your creaky cart down the aisle, a strong hand stops you.

“Darlin’, if you need anything, and I mean anything, you call me.” Gator hands you a Stark County Sheriff’s Department card, loaded with his phone number. You take it, and he stares down at you with a smirk. Lifting his hand, Gator’s thumb brushes against your cheek.

“Take care now.”

And with that, the handsome cop deputy was gone once again.

But now you had his number.

And you’d certainly be using it.

taglist: @kristywidget97 @ch3rryshark @louisbelongstome28 @qardasngan @dreamerjj @kneelarmhstrung @oneddjo @djolivia @jazzytillman

Everyone in town knew what a sweetheart Lars Lindstrom was, especially when it came to you and your little girl.

The Lindstrom household was a soft one, one full of giggles and care and so much love. The kind of family everyone wished to possess.

You and Lars’ relationship had blossomed into something special, after years of being together the two of you had settled into a life of harmony.

When you got the news that you were pregnant, you were thrilled. You told Lars by baking him a cake, his favourite of your creations, and writing ‘i’m pregnant!’ on it. Tears immediately filled his eyes and his perfect smile spread across his face like sunshine in summer. Hearing the news, your husband was nervous yet ecstatic.

He’d always dreamed of being a father, dreamed of holding a tiny bundle of joy in his blue blanket, dreamed of holding a tiny version of you and him. Jittery, he’d spent the nine months preparing the house for the baby like a madman, and by the time you were full term the house was perfect.

You didn’t think you could possibly love Lars any more than you already did, but seeing him with your daughter made your heart glow. He was gentle as usual, but a little something inside of him had clicked into dad-mode, and he was perfect.

Over the next year and a half, your baby girl had grown into a bundle of energy while you had fallen pregnant yet again. And it was safe to say that your life was bliss.

Lars was at your daughter’s beck and call, if she wanted something, he made sure she got it.

He was gentle with her, never once daring to raise his voice at her, not that he’d dream of it anyway. Your husband cared for your child like she was his entire world, and the truth was, she was.

~*~*~*~*~

“Angel… wake up please” your husband murmured, gently rubbing your shoulder to stir you from sleep. As your eyes fluttered open, you saw Lars standing over you, light beaming down on him like a golden halo.

“Good morning. You look pretty.” His soft smile practically melted your heart.

“Good morning Baby.” Smiling as you sit up in bed, you groan at the ache in your back - pregnancy had not been kind to you this time around.

“Hey, hey…” Lars winced at your pained grumbles, placing a hand on your back to help you get comfortable. Plopping on the edge of the bed, he picked up a steaming mug, one you had gotten on your honeymoon to Paris.

“I made you a coffee. June is still sleeping, do you need anything else?” His large but gentle hand smooths over your hair, rubbing his fingers through the strands. You shake your head as he lifts the cup to your mouth, letting you drink without even having to lift a finger.

“No baby, I’m okay thank you.”

He places the cup down and turns to leave, but you stop him.

“Lars, honey?”

He faces you with doe eyes full of love.

“Angel?”

“I love you.”

Lars smiles. One full of joy and gratitude and contentment.

“I love you more.”

~*~*~*~*~

“Woah there bug! Be careful around momma okay?” Your little bundle of joy, June, often decides that sleepy mornings are the best time to run rampant.

You’re stood in the kitchen nursing a jasmine tea, your new favourite after Lars had introduced you to it, while your husband desperately tried to clamp your daughter down into her highchair. Was she sat down? Nope. She was running circles around you.

“But papa! I’m gonna teach the baby how to be super fast like me!” The little girl giggled, finally succumbing to her father’s attempts at picking her up.

With a hand on your bump, you placed the mug of tea down with a clink and walked over to Lars.

“Thank you, you’re so good with her.” Smiling, you held his hand.

Lars simply shrugged with a grin, “it’s my job. I like it.”

The two of you stand for a couple moments, gazing with love at your daughter.

Suddenly, you place Lars’ hand over your bump with a gasp.

“Lars! Baby he kicked!” You practically squeal, eyes lighting up with joy.

“Really? His first kick?”

At the feeling of another strong kick, your husbands’ eyes fill with tears of excitement and he bends down, placing a gentle kiss on your bump.

“Hey little boy… it’s daddy.” He whispers, hoping that the baby will recognise his father’s voice once he enters the world.

~*~*~*~*~

If it wasn’t clear enough already, Lars was the perfect father. And the perfect husband to you.

You struggled in the first trimester, sickness and aches changed your body from energetic to tired. Most days were spent in bed or crouched over the toilet, but one thing was never missing.

Lars.

He was always by your side.

“In sickness and in health,” he’d tell you, “I promised you that.”

So whenever you needed a nap, or a desperate late night craving, or simply just some love, he was there.

taglist: @djolivia @jazzytillman @qardasngan @dreamerjj

Mission: obtain weekly groceries.

Every Tuesday at 2:30pm, you’d leave the house and head to your favourite local grocery store.

List in your hand, you’d traverse the aisles looking for whatever you needed while trying to make sense of your scruffy rushed writing and trying to ignore the doodles sprinkling the page.

First, you picked up some bananas. You chose the browner ones over the bright yellow bananas as you preferred the over-ripe taste.

Then, you picked up a bottle milk. Semi-skimmed being your favourite for your daily coffees and teas.

Next on the list was pasta, the swirly kind.

As you approached the shelf, you realised the pasta was no where to be seen.

Mission status: failed?

Tilting your head upwards as you scan the array of shelves in front of you, you spot the bag!

On the top shelf.

Far far out of your reach.

Mission status: failed. Harder than expected.

Your short stature does not help in the situation at hand. But will you let it stop you?

Nope.

Stretching onto your tippy toes, you reach as far up as you can to try and even so much as touch the bag of pasta.

When that fails, you bend your knees and with a huff you jump, flailing your arm to grab the bag mid-air.

This really isn’t working.

Groaning, you stomp a foot onto the linoleum floor, absolutely ready to give up on your weekly mission.

Mission status: failed.

Until…

A strong arm reaches above you and grabs the bag with annoying ease, holding it out in front of you.

“‘ere ya go darlin’” a mystery voice grumbles.

Looking up at your pasta-saviour, you’re met with a man your age with slicked-back hair in a police vest, his deputy sheriff badge telling you all you need to know.

God, he’s handsome.

You take the pasta and place it in your cart, murmuring a polite thank you with wide eyes and rosy cheeks.

“Be careful now, can’t ‘ave you climbin’ the shelves round ‘ere can we?” The man teases, before shooting you a wink and walking away, his long legs taking him far from you before you even process his actions.

Looking down at the bag in your cart, your thoughts are consumed by the hope that you see him again next week.

And as Gator hops into his patrol car, he can only hope you’re there the same time every week.

taglist: @djolivia @jazzytillman @oneddjo @qardasngan @dreamerjj

Lars had always had this feeling deep inside of him.

That he wasn’t man enough.

That he wasn’t the man you needed.

It crept through his bones like a virus and gnawed at his every nerve, some days the worry of his weak masculinity filled his every waking moment with a pit in his stomach and a ball of anxiety in his throat.

You’d been together for about a year, and it was pure bliss. Lars was gentle, kind, always listened and remembered and respected you no matter what. He wasn’t loud, or rowdy, or ignorant, he practically worshipped the ground you walked on - you knew he was your absolute dream man.

But Lars still had that feeling.

That worry.

It didn’t help that he couldn’t handle much skin-to-skin contact. You’d made it to the point in your relationship where hand holding or a fully-clothed cuddle was okay, but anything past that was too painful for him to handle. The burning sensation which spread through his body like wildfire, sending his body into panic.

You began to notice it, his worry, when one morning you woke up to Lars gazing into his mirror with an unsure smile.

His hair perfect combed as usual. His pants pressed and shoes shined, but he was missing his sweater.

Every single day he’d wear a new sweater, your favourite being the beige one with little reindeers on it. Lars would slip it on over his dress shirt and look at you with joy as you told him, ‘that’s a nice sweater.’

But where was his nice sweater?

You’d asked him about it, and all he’d said was that he wanted a change. That sweaters were too soft for him.

Too soft? For a gentle giant like Lars?

You weren’t having it.

He’d replaced it with a suit, one which made him look perfect as always, but something still seemed off. The waistcoat was tight across his torso, something he always tried to avoid due to sensory issues, and the blazer was stiff and well-tailored, far different from his usual soft, breathable sweaters.

You finally addressed his worry when Gus spoke to you about something Lars had asked him earlier in the day - how did he know he was a man?

You felt as if your heart could genuinely ache out of your chest. Your sweet boy had been thinking this? Gus told you that Lars had always felt different, and it would benefit him if you could reassure him of his manliness.

And by god did you.

It started with comments in passing, a quick ‘my handsome man’ or asking him to help you around the house with heavy lifting or handy work.

Sure, it was stereotypical, but he needed it.

One January evening, one where the frost creeps through your skin and settles deep inside of your bones, Lars was outside chopping wood.

It was a common occurrence, but recently he had been doing it far more often, and in far less layers.

His blazer had been strewn aside, hanging from a branch on a nearby tree, and his dress shirt sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, revealing his muscular forearms and shivering hands.

Slamming the axe into the stump, Lars pushed his sleeves up further, extenuating his biceps. He threw a look of approval in your direction before picking up the axe once more and continuing to chop, breathy grunts breaking the atmosphere.

He was showing off.

“Lars, Angel?” Wrapping your dressing gown around yourself to shield from the chill, you stepped outside.

“Hm?” Putting down the axe and walking over to you with open arms, Lars masks a shiver with his usual warm smile, the one which melts your heart every time.

“It’s cold, don’t you think you should come inside?” You place a warm hand on his biceps, juxtaposed to the icy material of his shirt.

“No, I’m okay.” He smiles at you, gaze full of love.

“I’m worried about you y’know.” You adjust his waist coat.

Lars shrugs, pulling you into a rare but welcomed hug as an idea pops into your brain.

As his arms envelop you, your hands run over the plane of muscles on his back before travelling to his biceps and shoulders, tense from the hard work of swinging the axe.

“You’re so strong, Lars.” Smiling wide, you look up at him with doe eyes. “I love your muscles. My big strong man.”

His eyes practically light up.

“You do?”

“You bet it, baby.” Taking his hand, you gently guide him inside.

“Don’t want you getting ill now do we? How about you go and put on a nice jumper and we can snuggle down in bed, yeah?”

Nodding in agreement, Lars slips inside with a newfound sense of happiness and self.

In the morning, when you wake up to see Lars in his reindeer jumper with the cosiest smile you’ve seen on him in weeks, you know he’s the one.

He’s the man you need.

taglist: @jazzytillman @lilacdreamrxo @dreamerjj @djolivia

The door swings open with a creak and you’re met with Lars.

Lars whose eyes are red and puffy from nights of suppressed sobs.

Lars whose normally neat hair is slightly scruffy and sprinkled with fly-aways.

Lars who’s holding a pink carnation, a little bit wilted but still a perfect representation of his love for you.

“Hi…” He mumbles, burying his nose into the blue blanket which is draped around his shoulders.

“Lars… hi.” You step aside, giving him room to come in.

He closes the door behind himself, standing awkwardly in your entryway like he’s afraid of taking up space.

You turn to walk back to the sofa, but you face Lars again when he taps your shoulder. His hands cup yours as he passes you the flower.

Heat rises up his arm, the pain flooding his senses. But he pushes through. Lars desperately wants to try, wants to show you how he can love you just like anyone else can.

Looking up at him in shock, you take the flower and hold it to your nose.

“Lars… it’s beautiful. Thank you.”

His tearful gaze is locked into his snowy boots, and he shrugs.

“It’s nothing… I’m- sniffle- I’m so sorry.”

Your heart aches out of your chest as his emotion, and you step closer to him.

“No, no Lars it’s okay. I thought you were mad at me, I didn’t want to make you more upset. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Crouching down slightly to meet his low gaze, you whisper, “I love you.”

Lars shuts his eyes tight before smiling softly, still emotional, and meeting your eyes. He nods, fingers fiddling with his zip.

“Can I hug you?” He whispers, doe eyes locking onto yours.

It’s like a weight has been lifted and you rush into his arms, gently wrapping your arms around him before burying your face into his chest.

Lars is like a human radiator, a golden aura of heat surrounding him at all times. As his arms wrap around you, cocooning you in this warmth, his soft paw-like hands run through your hair, causing your heart to beat a million miles a minute.

“I’m trying.” He mumbles, voice shaky as he tries to fight the pain of touch.

You slowly pull away, resting your hands on his biceps.

“I know. And I am so proud of you.” Smiling wide, you both simply look at each other, taking in the person you love. Gently guiding him towards your back door, he seems to still be on edge.

“Hey, wanna cut some wood for me?” You offer, knowing he loves it and it helps to calm him down.

And when he looks at you with that kind smile you love? You practically melt.

And when you shiver from the cold seeping into your bones? He wraps his blue blanket around you once again and you know it’ll all be okay.

You know he’s trying.

p.s: do we maybe want an epilogue?

“Kurtie! Come and look at this!”

You had recently invested in a brand new game, Tomodatchi Life, and had become enthralled.

Practically every free minute you got was spent on the game, whether it was decorating your island or making new Miis, you were obsessed!

Kurt loved seeing you so engrossed in a game, you never really understood the shooting games he played, you preferred quiet and life-like rather than loud and violent. It warmed his heart seeing you slowly become a ‘gamer’ of sorts, yet another thing you pair could bond over.

Recently, Kurt had met you in the game and had swiftly fallen head over heels, and now the two of you had moved in together! Excited, you called Kurt downstairs to show him your cozy little house.

“What is it?” He plopped down beside you, immediately curling into your side and gazing at your game.

“It’s us! Look! We love eachother so much we moved in together!” Practically squealing, you pass the console to Kurt to have a look.

The little pixel versions of you two walk around together, talking and laughing and having fun just like you do in the real world. You show him the house you decorated, just like your own! Kurt was laughing when you showed him his outfits and what he liked to eat, his top food being something he was allergic to. Time flew by as you both played the game, little characters waving for attention, whether it was to play a mini-game or to ask for new clothes.

“It’s like in real life!” Kurt beams out, “woah! He looks just like me!”

You giggle and tell him how long you spent making sure he looked just right, leading to being smothered in kisses and cuddles.

It had taken a while to get Kurt to be so touchy with you, at first he was worried you’d leave him, anxiety which stemmed from years of being forgotten by people he thought he could trust. But eventually, he finally realised just how much you loved him, and the fact that you two were practically soulmates, and made sure he was somehow touching you at all times ever since.

It was one of his favourite things, kissing you.

“Kurtie! Hey!” You laugh, throwing you arms around him in a tight hug.

You both lay back on the sofa, the game put aside as you both bask in each others presence and love.

“Even in the game, we’re perfect for eachother!” He beams, melting your heart with his charming smile.

“Yeah Kurt, we are.”

p.s: sorry it’s so short! would you guys like it if I started posting short fics like these? If you guys sent some suggestions or head cannons I would love to write more short stories like this! Love you guys <3

taglist: @jazzytillman @lilacdreamrxo @dreamerjj

Steve Harrington. King of Hawkins high and your mortal enemy.

The pair of you had butted heads in high school like there was no tomorrow, you hated his guts and he hated yours right back. Well, you assumed so anyways.

Steve had everything a teenage boy could want. Perfect hair, popularity, a place on the coveted basketball team and a steady stream of pretty girls waiting at his every beck and call.

You on the other hand were popular in your own way. You were a confident at heart, nerdy and fun and never afraid to stand up for what’s right.

It was only when one of your fellow Hellfire Club members had issues with Steve that you began your infamous bickering, you were like the Lord Capulet to Steve’s Lord Montague.

Steve had been with Carol and Tommy when he hurled an insult at your friend, obviously trying to show off. You? You were livid. And the rest was history. The event had created a rivalry between the two of you like no other.

To you, he was an absolute man-child. No manners or care for any breathing thing that wasn’t him. For someone who talked so big, he did not meet your expectations for ‘the dream boy’ like everyone said he was.

But at the end of the day, it was kind of fun fighting with Steve, finding out what parts of him hurt the most to pick at. Whether it was his parents or a failed exam, you knew all of his weaknesses. It was like collecting pokemon cards in a way, how many ways can you hurt Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington’s feelings? But somehow, he never found yours.

The rude remarks he threw at you weren’t personal at all. He’s say you looked weird, or call you a name or two, but none of them were things that could actually hurt someone, especially you.

What you didn’t know is that Steve never had wanted to upset you. He loved fighting with you just for the mere purpose of being able to talk to you. Of being able to stand close and look down at your face. His eyes had always seemed to find you, even in class or when walking home. Steve was quite frankly infatuated, but you couldn’t know that.

In his heart he knew it’d be better to have this than nothing at all.

~*~*~*~*~

Highschool had come and gone, but you somehow still found yourself constantly surrounded by kids.

Dustin Henderson, one of the youngest Hellfire members, had introduced you to his menagerie of equally as weird friends. You wanted to help out, so you’d host the odd sleepover or drop them off to a movie, sometimes being dragged into whatever insane adventure they’d whipped up.

The kids simply took you since you were a cool adult who would be willing to get them into places they really shouldn’t be, but the real leader of the children?

The one and only Steve Harrington.

You loved the kids, but you’d stubbornly refuse to do anything involved with Steve.

“Come on! It’s one movie, it’ll be fun!” Dustin begged you, adamant that you could still have fun at tonight’s movie marathon even if ‘Stevie’ was there.

Little did you know, when Dustin had mentioned you to Steve, he jumped at the opportunity to get another chance to talk to you. So now? Steve had a wingman. A very enthusiastic wingman.

“Pleaseplease puhleeeeaseeeee!!!”

If only shutting your eyes could block out Dustin’s voice.

“I know Steve is coming, but we really want you to come! You know, he’s not who he used to be!”

“Oh yeah?”

No way he’s changed.

“I’ll hold my breath until you say yes.”

So, the boy sits there, face slowly turning red as he dramatically puffs out his cheeks and holds his breath.

…

…

…

“Fine! Fine. He has to prove to me how he’s better. I’ll believe it when I see it.” You finally gave in. If Harrington was going to be there, you might as well have a little bit of fun and see how he turned out.

He can’t have changed.

Right?

~*~*~*~*~

What certainly didn’t change was Steve’s looks.

You’re stood at the Henderson household’s door, exchanging monotone pleasantries with… Harrington.

Hair the same, clothes the same, annoyingly handsome face the same - just older, but an unmistakable amount of maturity has changed him in a way you can’t quite note yet.

“You came.”

You raise an eyebrow at his remark.

“No shit, Sherlock. Can I come in or what?”

God, how you wish you could wipe that gorgeous smirk off of his face.

Steve steps aside, giving you room to enter. Once you close the door behind you, you’re met with a herd of children barrelling towards you.

“You’re here!”

“Hey!!!”

“I told you she’d come.”

Steve simply stands and stares as you calm down the chaotic kids, his face a picture of awe. You were always so good with them, he knew how hard they were sometimes so seeing you deal with them perfectly only added to your attractiveness.

Piling into the living room, the children take their usual spots. Some on the couch, some on the floor, but Steve assumes his claimed spot, the right side of the couch. The kids shuffle together to make room for you, right next to Steve.

Perfect. Just perfect.

As the evening drifted away into night, you were still squished thigh to thigh and shoulder to shoulder with Harrington. The children had all fallen asleep to The Outsiders, Will’s head on Mike’s shoulder and Max draped over Lucas’ lap with a line of drool down her cheek.

But you and King Steve?

Wide awake.

Throughout the night, you’d witnessed just how much he had changed. His charming smile had stayed the same, but he was so incredibly caring to the group, he cooked dinner and make jokes and always ensure everyone was okay amongst a million other things which truly made him such a good guy, and which truly made you blush.

But you still hadn’t spoken to him, not wanting to give in.

So now, the two of you were sat in silence, the tension so thick not even the fumes from Steve’s hairspray could diffuse it.

“Hey… Listen.” Steve’s voice pops the bubble of silence which had formed around you, and you turn to look at him, meeting his brown doe eyes.

You hum in acknowledgement, giving him room to continue.

“I’m… I’m sorry. For how I treated you in high school.” His eyes were locked on the TV, his face a picture of nervousness, something you’d never seen on Steve before.

“I was a massive dick. I thought popularity and ‘legacy’ was… was more important than being a decent fucking human.” He lets out a laugh devoid of any humour, his gaze finally turning back to meet yours once again.

“Steve it’s fi-“ you begin, but he cuts you off.

“No, it’s not.” He practically launches himself to turn and face you fully, freezing for a second when Jane stirs before continuing his rant.

“I promise you I’m a better person. I’ve worked on myself. Plus, working at Scoops really does put everything into perspective.” Steve’s lips curl up into a sort of melancholy smile, one you return.

“Yeah… Dustin has told me many times how cool and kind you are. Guess you really changed huh Harrington?” Your smile grows wider, your muscles relaxing as you settle into comfortable conversation with the boy you always thought you’d despise.

“Well, Dustin has told me many times how cool you are.” Steve playfully nudges your shoulder.

Sneaking out a quiet giggle, you nudge him back.

“Oh yeah? When he told me how you’ve changed I at least hoped I could experience better insults.”

“You- what?”

Your eyebrows furrow, what the hell is he confused about? You thought it was quite obvious how surface level his insults were.

“Steve. C’mon. You could’ve been more imaginative when you were mean. Like, you used ‘your mom’ jokes!” You pushed out a laugh through your confusion.

“Yeah,” he laughed out, shaking his head as he stared down at the floor, “I did. It’s because I didn’t want to upset you.”

okay. what the fuck.

“Upset me? Steve, that was the point. We hated each others guts!”

“Maybe you hated mine.”

Steve’s words stun you to silence.

After a few moments, you notice the nervous look on his face.

“I kinda… I kinda begged Dustin to get you to come here so I could prove to you how much I’ve changed.” His brown doe eyes gaze into yours, brows furrowed in pure desperation.

You burst into laughter, before quickly quietening down as to not wake the kids. Smacking him playfully on the chest, you say, “you dingus! Oh my- you’re such a loser!”

“Wasn’t expecting that huh?” Steve laughs, but it comes out more like a puff of air.

His teeth bit into his bottom lip, trying to distract himself from his nerves, before his tongue ran over the now red area where he had bit, wetting it.

“So… uhh… do I have a chance?”

Smiling so hard your cheeks hurt, you took his hand in yours.

“Fine. You can take me out, Steve.”

And it only got better from there.

p.s: how would we feel about a part two? or maybe a whole series! c:

You’d felt it coming all day really.

The dizzy spells, not feeling quite like yourself, the colours dancing in your vision and the tingly sensation which lingered in the tips of your fingertips since the beginning of the Tillman get together.

Every year, the infamous Roy would somehow choose the hottest day of the year to host a family feast, bringing every Tillman together to eat and create awkward small talk as they discreetly wiped sweat from their brow.

“Fuckin’ pointless, that’s what it is.” Gator would tell you, gravel road grumbling under the tires of his heavy police truck. “Roy don’t like half of us anyway. Just a chance to show off.”

Once you arrived, the property was bustling with energy, the scent of food wafting through the air with the summer breeze. Young boys with bruised knees and missing teeth played together under the beams of sunlight and Tillman men all shared beers and nervous looks to Roy.

It wasn’t as bad as you had expected, you’d made some friends at least, chatting with Gator’s cousin’s wife and whatever other lady looked to be in the same predicament as you. It helped to distract from the illness you’d felt creeping up all day, not having mentioned it to Gator out of apprehension for disappointing or worrying him.

You’d managed to find a seat on an old wooden picnic table with the other women, chatting about work or clothes or whatever it was Tillman wives spoke about.

Every once and a while when your vision would once again grow blurry, you’d eat some of the mystery meat Karen had cooked, or drink some of the lemonade you’d snuck in your bag, not wanting alcohol.

Did it help?

Not enough.

The heat was unforgiving at this time of the year, and it was relentlessly beating down on you, worsening your state.

It had been about two hours of sitting, occasionally greeting someone as “oh im Gator’s wife!” and forcing a smile at spiteful comments from old Tillman men.

You thought you’d manage, just push down the illness until you can get home and rest in your husbands arms. But luck wasn’t in your favour. Gator had caught you staring off into space while sat on the bench, looking far paler than usual.

“Darlin’, come over ‘ere f’me” Your husband called from a few feet away.

In hindsight, you probably shouldn’t have stood up that fast, but as soon as you were upright, your vision grew dark and you felt the ground rushing towards you.

“What the- baby! Fuck!”

As it went dark all you could feel were strong arms catching you before you hit the ground.

“Woah! Woah! Hey!”

“Quit standin’ there! You’re in my way.”

“Baby c’mon… wake up for me princess.”

“Fuckin’… hey! Get me some water!”

After a couple minutes of Gator calling your name in sheer panic, your eyes finally fluttered open.

“Oh thank fuck- darlin’ it’s okay, im ‘ere for ya…”

It seemed as if the garden was spinning, darkness surrounded your pupils like fog and all you could seem to focus on was your husband’s face.

Words failed you and your clouded brain, so all you could muster out was a faint murmur, which came out more like a whine.

You felt soft grass beneath you, and you could smell Gator’s jacket which he had placed under your head to act as a pillow.

He had caught you.

You didn’t notice the tears welling in your eyes until he wiped them away with care so tender it was almost painful.

“Oh my sweet girl, it’s okay. Sit up f’me baby.”

With a groan of pain, you rested against the picnic bench, Gator’s hand holding your chin up as he gently placed a straw to your lips.

“Drink up darlin’, you’re alright.”

To your relief, as the cold water ran past your lips, your vision slowly cleared.

People stood around you, watching in shock, but all you could focus on were the tears Gator desperately tried to hold in.

He had been so terrified.

You idiot. She’s been ill all day and you didn’t notice, his brain told him, useless fuck, what if you’d lost her? Just like everyone else.

Cupping his cheek, you murmured out, “I’m okay baby. Really. You saved me.” A shaky smile spread across your face and Gator leaned in closer with a rare relieved smile of his own.

“I’ll always be there to save you, mama.”

He placed a kiss on your cheek, as if he were reassuring himself that you were there.

“I promise.”

~*~*~*~*~

Warm, bubbly water ran over you like a blanket.

Once Gator had gently carried you to the car, ignoring any remarks from you or other Tillmans to stay, he had taken you straight home (with the sirens on of course, it was a horrific emergency in your husbands eyes.) and placed you into a candle-lit bath.

Gator had stayed by your side the entire time, sitting in comfortable silence as you enjoyed the bath, your muscles finally relaxing.

“Thank you, Gator.” You spoke, popping the silent bubble which had formed around the two of you.

He turned to look at you, brows furrowed.

“F’what?”

“Catching me.”

He looked back down at his hands with a shrug.

“Should’a noticed sooner.”

Your soft, manicured hand covers his, juxtaposed to his calloused ones.

“Baby, look at me.”

Big brown eyes lock onto yours.

“You saved me, Gate.”

You’re too focused on the real smile on his face to notice his hand sneak into the water, splashing you in the face.

“Oh my- Gator Tillman!”

Your giggles fill the small bathroom as you splash him back, his t-shirt turning dark with the spray of water.

Finally, you’re feeling like yourself again as the night dissolves into bubbles and laughter and more memories with the man you love.

taglist: @djolivia @jazzytillman