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chaesparklez · 2 months

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1.17am | gunwook x afab reader

wc: 2.3k

content: 18+ MINORS DNI

gendered descriptions, ex!bf gunwook, angst, emotional, oral sex f!receiving, heavy petting, rough sex, makeup sex, unprotected sex (practice safe sex yall)

summary: “just look at this, jagi. we’re so good together.”

1.17am. a surprise visit from the person you want to see least. well, maybe not the least…

a/n: sorry for being mia guys!! hope you enjoy this latest piece, i’m not too familiar with writing angst so hopefully it’s not too clunky haha. cross-posted on ao3 & wattpad on user @/chaesparkle.

it had been a long week of work, your social battery too drained to join your friends for a night out. you splay yourself out on the sofa, absentmindedly watching a show and crocheting. a nearby lamp illuminates the room with an atmospheric golden glow.

you sigh. admittedly, part of the reason why you were so drained was because of your ex, gunwook. his work meant you barely saw him for the past few months, eventually feeling like he wasn't making time for you culminating in your breakup. despite his begging to make things right, you just knew things would never work out. clearly he thought differently, as he had been blowing up your phone all day.

why you hadn't simply blocked him yet, you couldn't quite figure out.

a knock at the door.

you frown looking at the clock: 1.17am. who on earth could it be at this hour? you throw a cardigan on and amble towards the door.

"who is it?" you call lazily.

no response. you furrow your brows, pausing for a second before another knock resonates through the room. and you realise. two firm raps followed by another quick tap; you know exactly who was knocking. the blood rushes to your head, face already heating up in anger. you were already having a rough week and now having your space invaded by the last person you wanted to see made you angry.

“what the fuck, gunwook?” you swing the door open. 'texting me hundreds of times wasn't enough so now you show up to my doorstep?'

gunwook stands before you, expression indecipherable. he simply scans you up and down with a dark gaze.

you shake your head in frustration. 'so??'

he slinks past you without a word, making his way into the living room with you following him becoming increasingly mad.

"oh, so you're just gonna waltz into my house then play the silent act? i don't even know why you’re h-"

"because i fucking missed you!!" he shouts, turning towards you finally. his cheeks redden like they always do when he gets emotional, dark eyes blazing.

'you break up with me all of a sudden then expect me to be okay with it?' he continues. he inches closer, towering over you.

you stare up at him, gaze cold and hard.

"it's hilarious" you say, keeping your voice level, 'how you didn't contact me for weeks at a time while we were together and now that im not putting up with your shit anymore you come crawling back.'

"i told you that i'd do better. we can make it work, i'm serious." his tone low.

"why do you keep deluding yourself into thinking you can fix this? you'll literally be touring for the next two months. forget seeing me, you won't even have time to call me."

you feel a lump form in your throat, quickly turning away so he wouldn't see your eyes moisten.

"why don't you have any trust in me?" he says exasperated. he grabs your wrist forcing you to face him.

'please. give me a chance,' he whispers, gaze intently fixed on you.

all this was too overwhelming for you. your exhaustion, him being in your space asking questions you couldn't answer, and in the middle of it all, you being very aware of his closeness to you in this moment, face so close to yours you were tempted to brush the hair out of his eyes...

shut the fuck up, you tell yourself off mentally. you look at gunwook, determined to drive him out.

"why the hell should i trust you?" you say. 'all the missed calls, cancelled dates, all you did was take me for granted.'

"that's not true", his jaw clenching.

"it's how you made me feel."

"you have no idea how *i* feel. i-"

"i do. you're a selfish jerk. you don't give a fuck about me, you don't-"

"LET ME SPEAK!" gunwook yells, voice making a boom that resonates throughout the room. you jump, shocked at the outburst. gunwook looks at you intensely, eyes blazing with passion.

'i missed you everyday. it was hard for me too, spending so much time apart from you and not even being able to contact you because the managers were always watching.'

he takes a step closer.

'i was going to see you first as soon as i came back to korea. but then you texted me all of a sudden saying 'it's over' and then disappeared?? you have no idea how much that broke me.' his voice breaks on the last sentence.

you look up at him sadly, clenching your jaw and trying to control your impulse to hug him. you couldn't. not now. you didn't want to start something you couldn't finish.

"i think you should leave," you say quietly.

gunwook stays standing in the same spot clearly having no intentions to abide by your words. he inches closer to you, eyes shining.

"stop. gunwook, i said don't come closer," you warn as he takes slow steps towards you.

the look in his eyes made you nervous. it was the way he'd look at you before you'd leave a party together, giving your thigh a quick squeeze with you both knowing exactly what the night was in for.

'gunwook, seriously...' you breathe, your breath quickening. he continues to approach you silently with that intent look in his eyes, staring down at you fervently.

'really i don't think we should-' you begin to say before a long finger rests on your lips shushing you.

"quiet." he says in a lowered voice.

his hand rests on the wall beside you, his face inches from yours. he cocks his head to the side with a smile. your pupils waver as you look up at him.

"got anything else to say?" gunwook whispers, pinning you against the wall. he smirks.

a hand roams down to the waistband of your shorts, cool fingers meeting the heat of your center. you can't help but let out a shaky sigh, having forgotten what this felt like in the time you spent apart.

you stare at him fervently. tall, broad shoulders, and those determined eyes that'd observe every detail of the way your body responded to him.

and the expression on your face is more than enough to let gunwook know how you feel. you want him. all of him.

you both melt into a mess in each other's arms. your hands locked behind his neck, his enveloping your waist as you share a rough, sloppy kiss. as if you're both trying to consume eachother, as if you're making up for lost time.

his full lips lock around yours, the heat of your tongues melding as you both kiss passionately, not even moving in time as your mutual desperation drives you to take in as much of each other as you can.

you pull him closer by the collar and run your hands through his thick black hair. you bite gently on his full bottom lip and he kisses you harder, tongue exploring your mouth tasting you.

a trail of hurriedly removed clothes is splayed on the floor behind you as you lay under him on the sofa. with his body on top of you, the heat of his milky skin against yours has a flush rising in your center. you drag a hand from his broad chest down to his toned abs, and he gazes at you beneath him with all the yearning in the world behind those brown eyes. he leaves warm kisses trailing down your body, the tingle of his breath on your flesh sending a shiver down your spine so you arch into his touch. he looks down at you with an intoxicating gaze, a large hand enveloping the curve of your waist, and kisses your stomach.

"i missed this so badly," he says in a lowered voice.

he positions your legs to rest on his shoulders and begins to plant open-mouthed kisses on your inner thighs. you gasp, the muscles in your thighs contracting. his tongue makes contact with your throbbing pussy, lewdly licking a stripe up your slit. your eyes flutter shut as he begins to work his magic on your center, the movements of his tongue slow and sensual at first, then increasing in speed as your hips began to undulate against his mouth, your body begging for more.

his tongue runs up and down your folds, your thighs trembling but remaining firmly locked in place by his firm grip. he laps up your arousal like a dog thirsty for water, the view of your breasts jolting as you reacted to his touch further motivating him to deepen his movements.

you moan desperately and throw your head back. his grip on your flesh tightens and he moans against your clit, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through your body. you peer down at him and feel your center flutter at the view; his muscled arms flexing wrapped around your thighs, face buried in your pussy letting out impassioned moans.

you lace a hand through his thick hair, tugging gently and moaning as he continues stimulating your clit. you make eye contact, a faint blush seeping across your cheeks at the intensity of his gaze. he picks up the pace and you let out a yelp. the relentless flicks of his tongue against your clit having your hips rolling against his tongue more and more deeply.

fuck, you really did miss him.

you plead in a shaky voice: "gunwook.. need you inside me..." and he retracts slowly from your center, almost reluctantly as he breaks out of his daze.

"oh yeah?" he asks with a sly smirk. 'guess you missed this a lot, huh?' he begins to kiss your neck lazily, his hand roaming your body again.

"s-so full of yourself.." you stutter, unable to deliver this remark as bitingly as you intend as he pinches your nipple lightly.

"don't i have a right to be?" he smiles. continuing to caress you. 'after all..' he whispers, 'isn't this what you missed the most after i came back from overseas schedules?'

his long fingers are now between your legs, rubbing along the length of your center and drawing circles around your clit. you let out a moan, stomach contracting in pleasure as your hips rise to ask for more again. gunwook really did know you inside and out. exactly how to touch you so you'd be gasping and arching into him.

he aligns his erect cock with your pussy, tip red and leaking a bead of precum. as he pushes his length inside you, you throw your head back and gasp for air at the feeling of him filling you up. his massive length still had you gasping for air even though you'd had sex countless times already. he lets out a deep moan at the way your pussy wraps around his cock and begins to move his hips, thrusting deeper inside you.

you lock your fingers around his neck so you're inches apart from eachothers faces, both hearing eachothers breathy sighs of exhilaration. his weight on top of you makes you feel engulfed in him.

gunwook's cheeks are flushed, his eyes slanted and locked on yours as you moan and whimper looking into his eyes with each thrust. he adjusts his hips so his cock starts to hit that spot deep inside you with every thrust, prompting a loud "fuck!" from you.

your pussy clenches around his length deliciously, and he can't help but squeeze his eyes shut and moan into your neck.

"fuck, jagi... feels like this pussy was made for me," he breathes.

"don't.. call me jagi.." you protest weakly between thrusts, not sure you even believe your own words at this point.

he lets out a breathy laugh and his pace quickens.

"or what?" he challenges, his voice low and husky in your ear.

his thrusts become faster and harder so you scream out in ecstasy, his strong thrusts having you moaning and gasping for air.

"ah, j-just like that.. fuck!" you cry between moans.

gunwook starts to rub circles on your clit again sending another wave of pleasure crashing over you, the overstimulation making your head spin. your hands claw helplessly at his broad back leaving red scratches in their wake. your eyes begin to water and you look at him through half-lidded eyes, his gaze meeting yours with the same emotions. his bangs are damp from perspiration, hair falling into his narrowed eyes.

"gunwook- i- please-" you stutter out before screwing your eyes shut, your jaw open in a fixed contortion of pleasure.

"what was that, jagi? can't hear you." he chuckles with a raspy voice.

the view of you overstimulated and teary eyed, literally fucked dumb, drives gunwook crazy. he lets out a raspy sigh as he watches his length moving in and out of you. your pussy is dripping wet, the sound of skin slapping against skin so raw and visceral that you both start to cum. your hips begin to rut against his, your movements and impassioned breaths syncing with eachother in time. he moans, forehead against yours.

you gaze blearily and kiss him passionately. your climax begins to run through you and you moan between his lips, your cries becoming louder as he fucks you through your orgasm.

"ah, gunwook!" you throw your head back and cry out at the feeling of his cock pushing inside you as your walls contract around him, practically having you seeing stars.

gunwook lets out a constrained grunt as he reaches his climax, biceps flexing as he grips the arm of the sofa. with a final impassioned thrust he pulls out just as he cums, hot sticky fluid coating your stomach. he sinks on top of you as you both catch your breath, a mess of slick and perspiration. your arms are wrapped around his back as he sinks his head into your neck, warm breath tickling your skin.

he gazes at you laying before him staring up at him through half-lidded eyes.

"just look at this, jagi. we're so good together." he breathes.

you regard him with half-lidded eyes, chest rising and falling against his.

"should we… start over?" you whisper.

#zb1 #zerobaseone #zb1 smut #gunwook scenarios #zerobaseone gunwook #gunwook x reader #gunwook smut #park gunwook smut

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alice-after-dark · 4 months

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Vox as an Abuse Victim

So here is that massive Vox post I promised, a day late for...reasons. I swear I have been working on this post for days, even before that StaticMoth discourse influx in my inbox.

After making my post about Vox and Angel and reading @deeply-unserious-fellow's post about a similar topic, I thought it might be finally time to make this post. Most people who have seen my content know how I typically portray StaticMoth. I have mixed feelings about Valentino at the best of times and outright dislike him at the worst. But frankly this post isn't actually about him (well, mostly). It's about Vox and why I am really hoping that Viv keeps the angle of Vox being an abuse victim.

TW for domestic abuse, physical violence, implied sexual abuse, abusive relationships, gaslighting/victim-blaming, and other canon-typical triggers. Contain abusive StaticMoth.

Honestly? The primary reason I hope she keeps it is because it would make him an even more complex character and bring attention to a criminally underrepresented group: abuse victims who are also bad people.

As pointed out in the post I tagged above, the world has become obsessed with this idea of a "palatable" victim, the poor suffering cinnamon roll. An abuse victim is expected to look like a victim. You're supposed to instantly feel sorry for them and want to protect them...but that's not so easy when the victim is someone who also hurts people, is it? It's not so easy to pretend they didn't do bad things too...but they are still a victim. That does not change just because they are a bad person. And thus it becomes complicated and interesting. Because it's not so easy to root for the victim when they're also victimizing others, especially when those others are people we care about...like Angel Dust. At the bare minimum, Vox is doing nothing to stop Valentino from abusing Angel or any of his other employees. Having Vox be a victim of the same abuse that Angel Dust suffers (at the hands of the same abuser no less) and yet also being someone who enables Angel's abuse creates a very complicated situation.

In a most media, the discovery of a mean/bad person being abused is frequently portrayed in a "well, they were abused so you can't be mad at them anymore" kind of light. Like "see? They're just an asshole because they were being abused! Now that we know, they're suddenly a good person!" Except that's not how it works. Someone can be a bad person and also be a victim. And even if them being an asshole was the result of their abuse, those behaviors and the consequences of those behaviors don't just vanish. They still hurt people and frankly I would riot if it came out that Vox was being abused by Valentino and then everyone in the show just up and forgave him for being an asshole. Like...no? He would still need to make up for his own shit and actually work towards being a better person. I like this character because he's an unapologetic asshole. If making him a victim takes that away, then that would be such a missed opportunity.

In fact, one thing I find interesting is that I definitely believe that Vox would have no problem admitting to being a bad person, but would rather fight an exorcist alone than admit to being a victim. His ego won't allow for it. He would probably laugh in your face and call you delusional while literally having a broken screen. Because he can't admit it, even to himself. He would see it as a sign of weakness and that's not acceptable to him (side note that being a victim does not make you weak, that's just what Vox's toxic mindset tells him). While I am fairly certain that he would have moved on from most 1950s mindsets since he is all about the future and progress and moving forward, toxic masculinity is still very much a thing today and I can definitely see him embodying it in some aspects, like needing to appear strong and in control at all times (and Hell's power hierarchy definitely encourages this mindset, so...). Fuck, even now in fucking 2024, men still have a hard time being taken seriously as the victims of abuse. Unless of course you fit a certain mold.

Angel Dust is the perfect example of this. He is a palatable male victim. He's effeminate, he's funny, he's friendly, he's caring, and we actively see him miserable in his suffering. Despite being in Hell just like the rest of them and having been a former mafia member and clearly able to stand on his own two feet it combat, his victimhood is constantly on display and the audience wants to protect and save him. On the opposite end, Vox is shown in a position of power that is constantly reinforced. He's an Overlord, he's manipulative, he's cruel, he's greedy, and he enables abusive behavior from others. He is not a palatable victim, which is why it's perfect.

Now let's get into what I believe is the actual evidence that this dynamic could still be present.

Something I see people commonly say is that Vox being abused by Valentino doesn't make sense because why wouldn't Vox just fight back? He could just shock Valentino into next Tuesday? And to these people I kindly say fuck you. Because while physical strength can be a factor in abuse, it is very rarely the thing that keeps the victim from leaving. Abuse, even when physical, is heavily psychological. It's like telling a victim "well, why didn't you just leave?" It's not that easy. Abusers tend to target those with low self-esteem and it's made pretty clear that Vox is a very insecure person (I feel the need to point out that having an ego and having high self-esteem are not the same thing, in fact having a big ego is typically a side effect of very low self-esteem). It's entirely possible that Vox makes the conscious decision not to fight back because he's afraid of what will happen if he does. He's afraid Valentino will leave. We know Valentino is just as mentally and emotionally abusive to those around him as he is physically abusive and we have actively witnessed him playing into Vox's insecurities and mentally messing with him (specifically in the events leading up to "Stayed Gone").

So let's talk about the scene leading up to "Stayed Gone," because I also see Vox's behavior towards Valentino here used as justification for why it's not possible for Valentino to be abusing Vox. Full disclosure, I myself in the past have even thought that it demonstrated them being mutually abusive towards each other, but have since changed my opinion after reading more takes and doing further analysis. Having rewatched this scene many times now, I have some observations.

There's a small moment that always caught my attention when I watched this scene because I wasn't sure what it meant, but looking at it in the context of this post, I think I can see a possibility. When Vox goes to see Valentino, he approaches the doors and they are opened for him by Valentino's servants. Vox pauses in the doorway, glances at them, then continues on inside.

What was the point of this moment? It seems out of place. Surely Vox has gone to Valentino's room before? Surely this door opening thing isn't new? And looking at Vox's face here, he looks...concerned? Like...they might hear what goes on inside? And he maintains that expression even as he enters the room, like he doesn't like that those two are out there and might hear them.

It also makes the entire situation feel so routine. Like Valentino is upset and these girls just expect Vox to show up and take care of it. And the scenes prior to this also sets it up as a normal occurrence. Vox rearranges his entire schedule to deal with Valentino, like he absolutely expects this situation could take up the rest of his day. And Valentino clearly doesn't listen to Velvette in this regard as she had to call Vox to come deal with Valentino despite him wrecking her department. Her comment even further establishes this as normal when she tells Vox that Valentino is "up in his tower, waiting for a flat-faced prince to calm him down." And when Vox arrives? "FUCKING FINALLY!" All of this sets up a standard situation: when Valentino is upset, it is Vox's job to calm him down and make him feel better. Valentino is a full grown adult and yet he has made it someone else's problem to manage his emotions.

Then of course we have the classic moment of Valentino literally throwing his glass at Vox only seconds after Vox has arrived. And this has to have been a conscious decision, because right before that, he throws his first glass on the ground before demanding another. So if he wanted to just break something, he didn't need to throw it at Vox, but he did. And I definitely don't think he cared if Vox got out of the way or not. But how easily Vox moves aside tells us that he fully expected to have things thrown at him and was ready for it. Now, I do believe that Valentino would throw shit at literally anyone when he is mad, but the key here is that Vox, his supposed friend, on-and-off lover, and business partner, is not exempt from this behavior. He even breaks Vox's phone when he realizes Vox is not paying attention to him. He has no qualms breaking Vox's property just to soothe his rage (I would also like to point out that he fucking obliterated that thing; just how hard did he fucking throw it?!).

Something in this scene that did initially throw me as I was writing this is that Vox doesn't seem particularly afraid of Valentino. Not the way we see Angel is when Valentino gets angry. We also see him actively get angry with Valentino, get in his face, and manipulate him. In the past, I believed this behavior from Vox to have established their relationship as mutually abusive. However, after reading yet another post from @deeply-unserious-fellow, I realized that everything Vox does here is only in direct response to Valentino's tantrum.

So let's go through some things here. When Vox initially tries to tell Valentino he can't go to the hotel, Valentino straight up ignores him. Does not respond to Vox's words, completely carries on like he didn't even speak. From this point on, Vox takes an entirely different approach to the situation. He manipulates Valentino into thinking that not shooting up the hotel is his idea and even offers further appeasement in the form of shooting his own employees as a method to satisfy Valentino's temper. I admit to initially viewing this as Vox being abusive, but frankly, when your options are being manipulative or letting your business partner go shoot up a hotel that houses the literal Princess of Hell, yeah, I'd take the manipulation route. Because, as I pointed out above, Vox cannot actually control Valentino. He tries to give him an order and is completely ignored. And even when he does successfully manipulate him, he still has to appease him in some capacity.

Now, there's also something here that is often played for shits and giggles, but I'm taking it 100% seriously right now. Many people point out that Vox's screen gets brighter when he gets in Valentino's face. Valentino is a moth demon and after Vox does this, he seems to be dazed for a moment, enough for Vox to rapidly switch back into manipulator mode and does his thing. It seems to have snapped Valentino out of his rage and I literally can't help but think that Vox has learned this as a defense mechanism. Valentino can't see very well, so it's very likely Vox's hypnotism doesn't work on him, so Vox had to find other ways of manipulating him and calming him down when he's in one of his rages.

Something I also want to point out is that it is made very clear through a single solitary moment that Valentino is in no way afraid of Vox. When he tells Vox about Alastor, Vox screams in his face, manhandles him, and Valentino just...pushes him off and saunters away, grinning like the cat that caught the canary. He doesn't even look upset or concerned when Vox grabs him. He just...laughs it off...like he knows Vox won't actually hurt him. Because I genuinely think Vox won't. Later in the episode, we hear Valentino's voicemails to Angel Dust and how he's emotionally manipulating him, telling him he can't really get better. I wouldn't be surprised to find that he's given Vox a similar treatment, especially considering that it's obvious Valentino knew what kind of reaction he would get out of Vox by bringing up Alastor. And sure, he brushes it off with a kink joke, but in all seriousness, why did Valentino keep Alastor's return from Vox? We know Angel has been at the hotel for a little while and Alastor has been involved with it as of a week prior to the beginning of season 1, so why suddenly bring it up? It's almost like he was specifically holding onto this information, waiting for the perfect time to use it that would be the most beneficial to him.

There's also another little scene that always caught my attention. It's when Valentino is getting pissed about the shadow construct that Angel Dust is flirting with.

Valentino starts getting pissy again, demands Vox's attention, gets annoyed when he doesn't get it, then immediately switches to mocking and confident when Vox starts bitching about Alastor. Like...he's so fucking proud of himself for getting Vox all worked up over Alastor. Like it's some kind of game for him. Riling Vox up and messing with his emotions is fun for Valentino. Alastor dredges up some real shit for Vox and Valentino exploits it. And from here on, he just keeps egging him on. Now, I'm pretty sure "Stayed Gone" would have happened with or without Valentino, but the point here is that he is definitely playing with Vox's emotions here.

As for the not being afraid aspect, again, Valentino hasn't actually threatened him with something that truly scares him. I don't think he's afraid of what Valentino could physically do to him. It's more likely to make him mad than anything else, even if he doesn't fight back (he'll probably go take out his anger on someone else). The thing about Vox is that we see that he does not like to appear weak in any capacity and I think this extends well into his own psyche. If he admits, even to himself, that he's a victim...to him, that's admitting weakness and he just can't do that. So Valentino's not abusing him, they just had a fight. He didn't hit back because he's in control of himself and he knows he could totally toast Valentino. It's Vox's own fault for pushing his buttons when he knew Valentino was mad. It wasn't rape cause he never said "no".

TLDR: Vox can be both an asshole and an abuse victim and it would be a really interesting aspect to his character as long as the show does it right and doesn't scrap his assholeness to make him a more palatable victim. Show him being a victim and also victimizing others. Show him not wanting to accept that he has been abused. LET PEOPLE BE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH FEELING SORRY FOR HIM.

(that's all for now, I have literally been working on this post for days and I'm exhausted)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox hazbin hotel #alice rambles #hazbin valentino #staticmoth #hazbin angel dust

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 2 months

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everytime you write about gaz i get so lightheaded and blackout 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 like ommmmggggggg he’s sooo fine i need to bite him

i love you, sweet low blood pressure suffering anon.

46 / 1.6k / sequel to "call me bunny, cause i wanna bounce on your lap" with more mean reader <3

...

You must think you can get away with anything just because you’re sitting in Gaz’s passenger seat.

"We've been waiting for, like, twenty minutes,” you tell him, obviously annoyed.

Gaz doesn’t look up from his phone. "If I remember correctly, you were the one who made us late."

"I was getting ready.” You flip the mirror in the passenger-side visor back up, dabbing at your eye makeup with a polished fingernail. “And that means Alex should’ve been waiting by the time we pulled up.”

"You know how he is. Probably offered to help someone else and got roped into ten other things."

You huff, unlatch your seat belt, and prop your feet up on the dashboard. Might as well get comfortable if you’ll be here awhile.

Gaz’s eyes stray from his phone to linger on the strip of bare thigh between your skirt and thigh-high socks. "You look cute today, by the way."

Don’t you know it. You took your time getting ready for this “date.” You’re wearing the skirt he likes, the socks that make you feel confident—you put on fuck-me eyeliner. You dug out the heart choker you don’t even wear out to bars anymore because it makes you feel a little too casually easy.

You wanted to get laid today. But who knows how long it'll be before Alex comes out. And who knows where else he’ll want to go when he finally shows. There’s always something with him. He’s too nice.

⬇ nsfw; semipublic car sex; brat taming undertones

You huff and look down at your phone. Your nails click irritably against the screen.

Gaz sees the little pout trying to form on your lips. He knows what you want, and he certainly intends to give it to you, but there's no harm in making you squirm a little in the meantime. Plus he's enjoying the view. He stretches out in his seat to sit a little straighter and give himself a better angle to eye the hem of your skirt. You don't notice it until he slides his hand over the seat, resting his palm between your skirt and thigh highs.

"You know it drives me crazy when you sit like that." He squeezes. His fingers are warm and calloused.

You shift, eying his forearm in veiled interest. "I do?"

He knows exactly what you're doing, but it's cute so he'll humor you. "Of course you do. That's why you do it."

"Mm." You sense an opportunity and grab his hand, sliding it higher up your thigh. He leans around the armrest between you two to follow the motion. "You want to get out of here?" you ask.

His eyes drag up the stretch of skin you show him from that angle. He slides his tongue over his bottom lip. "Yeah, I do."

"Then let's--"

"After we get Alex."

You groan and push his hand away. "Just ditch him! Just once. He wouldn't even get mad. He’s too polite."

"I already said we'd pick him up. You’ll just have to wait."

You huff and pull your legs back, tucking them under you. You sink further back into your seat and go back to your phone. You know you're not exactly dating Gaz. You have no claim on his time besides being his one-night-stand-turned-booty-call.

But still. You're giving up a Saturday lunch with your friends for this guy, and here you got all dolled up just to sit in his car. The rejection stings. So does the unwelcome pang of jealousy toward Alex.

This is why you don't text your one night stands back. Gaz just... made you feel good enough to ignore that rule. You’re a horny idiot.

"Come on, love. Don't be like that."

"I'm not being like anything," you mutter.

"You're pouting." He slides his hand to your leg again. "Did you think I’d do whatever you wanted just because you're sitting pretty in my passenger seat?"

You pull your leg away from his hand out of spite. "So what if I did."

"Mm, well, it almost worked." He pushes the armrest up, leaving the middle seat bare. Then he hooks his hand under your knee in one swift motion and tugs you closer to him. You slide onto your hip, thrown off balance, but it just makes it easier for him to pull you in. "Till you started running your mouth."

"You like it," you retort. "Or else you wouldn't carry on with me like this."

Gaz lets go of your knee to push your skirt up higher. Your eyes shoot down to watch him do it.

"Never said I didn't," he says. "You've got a mean mouth when you don't get your way."

You bite your lip, watching his hand slip up between your thighs. His thumb brushes where the edge of your panties would be, if you were wearing any.

He makes a low sound in the back of his throat and locks eyes with you when he realizes you’re not wearing anything else under your skirt. Fuck, you’re nothing but trouble. He watches you as his hand slides higher, making you lean back and spread your legs to make room.

Your breath quickens. His eyes are fixed on you now; he wants you. This is what you wanted, too, sort of. You shift your hips and bite your glossed lip in a way you hope is tempting.

"What's wrong?" he purrs. Damn, he likes it when you fall in line. He might even like it more than when you're mean. It’s hard to choose. He doesn't know whether he wants to fix you or toy with you forever. Even if he had time to actually date you instead of stringing you along before his next deployment. "No bite to your bark now?"

"Nnh..."

A smirk pulls across his smug face. "That's what I thought."

His fingers press against you. There’s no way to play off the way you arch your back and collapse back onto your elbows. You give yourself away too easily. He knows very well that he could’ve had you anytime. He had his teeth in you from the moment you hopped into his car and he flashed you a smile. Even if you weren’t looking at him with half-lidded eyes right now, he can feel how warm and wet you are under your skirt. He forgets why he waited so long to give you what you want.

“Look at that. Already getting all worked up just from some simple touching?”

"Just shut up. But don't stop."

“Ask nicely.” But his hand doesn’t move away, fingers slowly rubbing over your opening in the same gentle up-and-down motion as before.

"Please," you concede. You just don't want him to stop.

He’s enjoying this--watching how quickly you go from cocky to cock-hungry. He likes a challenge, but he likes winning you over even more. So he keeps his fingers stroking up and down between your legs, slow and gentle. “Say it again. Ask for it nice.”

"Please-- please keep going."

“That’s better.” He presses his fingers into you so slowly it’s torturous. You groan, and he shifts closer, pupils dilating. “See, bunny? Being nice isn’t that hard.”

You push yourself up and move your hips in tandem with his hand. You really are like a bunny, moving and bouncing at the slightest provocation. His eyes sharpen and he bites the inside of his cheek when you move to touch yourself, too. The sight of your freshly manicured nails rubbing your own clit pulls more praises from his eager mouth—positive reinforcement—but you're hardly listening, of course. You're too greedy for more of what he's giving you. He just grins and lets you have it, his fingers pushing rougher and faster between your legs.

You gaze up at him with a dazed smile on your face. You look so good like that--completely lost to everything except his touch and his voice. He likes this more than he should. It’s the way you need him, only him, even in places you shouldn't. Even in public.

He plunges his fingers into you and relishes your delighted cry, rubbing you harder, faster. "Let me see you cum,” he growls.

Before, you might have snapped at him not to rush you. But that thought is distant.

Instead, pleasure wells up in you, shooting up your spine and all the way down your toes. You cry out with abandon, forgetting who might see or hear you in his car as you cum around his fingers. Your body rolls of its own accord, riding him and taking what it needs.

He works you through your orgasm with a sharp grin. He keeps it up until you’re finally done, and he slowly withdraws his hand once you’re coming down. Your legs twitch with pleasurable aftershocks.

"Feeling better? Gonna behave now?"

"Mm... yeah. I guess," you murmur. You're suddenly feeling much too lethargic to cause as many problems as usual.

He chuckles. From feisty to sated on just two fingers. He waits until you’re looking at him to bring those fingers to his mouth and wrap his tongue around them. With you as his audience, he makes a show of licking them clean.

Goosebumps break out over your skin. But you can't suppress a smirk. "God, you're disgusting."

His ego swells as you bite your lip, trying and failing not to let the sight arouse you again. His hand drifts back between your legs just like that, and he rubs over your still-sensitive mound with the back of his knuckles.

“Haven’t had enough?” he asks with faux sympathy, watching your half-lidded eyes trace down the sinews of his arm.

You push against his hand again, and he silently thanks Alex for doing him the favor of always taking so damn long.

...

more Gaz / masterlist

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lesbianrobin · 1 year

Text

you were warm when everything was cold

5,470 words

lucas/max, steve/eddie, lucas-centric

Lucas can't stop staring.

“Whaddya think?” Eddie twirls, showing off every angle of his borrowed letterman jacket with Harrington embroidered across the back. “So, Harrington? Gonna take me to the prom?”

Steve laughs, taking Eddie's outstretched hand and spinning him around again. “What, are we going steady?”

Eddie gasps. “Why, Steve, what kind of girl do you take me for? Of course we're going steady, I don't just go parking in cars with any old boy!”

Steve dissolves into laughter, pulling Eddie close by his belt loops and resting his forehead on his shoulder until the laughter subsides. Eddie runs his hands through Steve's hair aimlessly, playing with the strands, and shit, Lucas needs to look away, but he just can't.

“It looks good on you,” Steve says, so low that Lucas can barely make it out. He raises his head from Eddie's shoulder, leans in close so their foreheads are pressed together.

“Would you be mad if I added a few patches?”

“You can add patches if I can fix up the rips in your jacket.”

Eddie frowns. “Hey, I earned those rips.”

“And I earned my letterman.”

Eddie hums. “You'd make a good housewife.”

“How's that?”

“Well, you like to sew.”

“It's a basic life skill!”

“That you often practice for fun. You do all the cooking, you look after the kids, you love to clean…”

Steve clicks his tongue. “Only one problem there, Munson.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows. He's doing a terrible job of hiding his smile. “Oh really? What's that?”

Steve lightly grabs Eddie by the front of his jacket. “I'm not doing all that for a bum.” He pushes Eddie back a little just to pull him back in, knocking their foreheads together.

Eddie gives up on hiding his smile. “Oh, a bum?”

“That’s right. I need a man with a good job. Steady paycheck.”

“I provide.”

“You think I'm gonna raise children with a drug dealer?”

Eddie laughs, shakes his head, leans even closer to Steve, and—Okay, yeah, Lucas has gotta look away. He turns back to the pile of clothes he and Max have been sorting through.

Max is looking right at him, single eyebrow raised. Lucas’s stomach drops. “What?”

Max shrugs innocently, looking down to the stack of clothes in her lap like nothing happened. “Nothing. You like this?” She holds up a dark blue turtleneck sweater.

“Uh, for me or for you?”

“You, I can’t stand stuff around my neck like that.”

It does look soft. “I’ll try it.”

Steve apparently has an infinite abyss for a closet. Every time Lucas thinks Steve must have brought down the last of it, there’s another box, another armful of sweaters and t-shirts and polo shirts that Steve doesn’t need anymore even though they’re functionally indistinguishable from the stuff he wears every day. He’s got a lot of jackets, too, and Max has already claimed three for herself while Lucas has yet to snag one. Probably because he’s been distracted from their treasure hunt by… Well. He’s not sure what.

There’s something about watching Steve and Eddie that makes his chest ache, just a little bit. Something that feels like it’s just out of reach, like if he could just jump an inch higher he could grasp it and know what it is, have a name for it, figure out what feels like it’s missing with Max. He never felt like something was missing with Max before. She was perfect. She is perfect! Like, sure, not actually perfect, because nobody’s actually perfect, but she’s perfect for him just like he hopes he’s perfect for her, and they’re perfect together.

Maybe Lucas is overcompensating.

Max has been more present lately. More herself. Honestly, if anything, she’s more herself than ever. Vecna gave her this… confidence, sort of. Sureness in herself. Like, she just has this aura now, like she’s been to hell and personally kicked the devil in the nuts, and even though he knows it’s because she did essentially go through hell and personally kick the devil in the nuts, Lucas still kind of loves it. It’s like he’s dating the actual Max Max, or Ripley from Alien.

And yet. Even though Max isn’t hiding anymore, even though they talk now, even though their relationship is objectively better than ever, sometimes Lucas is just a little bit sad.

—

Movie nights are becoming worryingly essential to Lucas's mental wellbeing.

It doesn't have much of anything to do with the movies. It's how he feels safe surrounded by all of his friends, how the darkness forms a blanket to block out the rest of the world. Everyone that matters is right there in the glow of the TV. He knows they're all safe.

Right now, half of them are asleep.

Erica conked out early. So did Robin, who's curled up into a little ball and snoring lightly against Steve. Steve is awake, but Eddie is asleep in his lap, Steve's arms around his waist and chin resting on his shoulder. Dustin is awake, but he keeps jerking his head suddenly, like he's trying to keep himself up, and Lucas figures it's just a matter of time before he's out, too.

Max is awake. She's lying on him, and Lucas knows from experience that his arm is going to fall asleep pretty soon if she doesn't move, but what kind of guy asks his girlfriend to get off of him? Maybe a guy who doesn't even like girls.

But he definitely likes girls. Like, that's not even remotely up for debate, and it's not some deep-seated repression thing, it's just the truth. He loves when Max lays on him, up until the point where his arm gets numb and tingly. So what gives? What's the problem?

Lucas closes his eyes. He tries to picture Max with short hair, although Eddie's hair is long, and El's is short, so maybe that doesn't mean anything. He imagines her with a sharper jaw, although Dustin's jawline is soft, and Nancy's is sharp, so that probably doesn't mean much either. He imagines a Max with broader shoulders, maybe an inch or so taller than him, a Max he has to lean up to kiss, a Max with more than just peach fuzz on her upper lip.

He's not particularly into it, but he's not repulsed, either. Franken-Max is still beautiful. Handsome. Lucas still loves him. But that's a bad example, probably, because he already has feelings for Max, and changing some superficial stuff doesn't change the feelings. Who's a hot guy celebrity? Max likes Ralph Macchio. When he thinks about Ralph Macchio, though, all Lucas really feels is jealousy, maybe a little bit of disdain. So he thinks of Han Solo. Lando Calrissian. Luke Skywalker. They aren't bad-looking, sure, but Lucas doesn't feel too strongly about any of them, appearance-wise. Maybe he just can't find guys in movies hot.

His mind drifts, as it often has lately, to Steve and Eddie. It's not the way they look that has Lucas obsessing over them. He knew Steve and Eddie both long before they were Steve-and-Eddie, and he never had this kind of fixation on either of them before. Well, sure, maybe he's spent some time looking at Steve's arms, but that was more of an athletic inspiration thing than anything else. What is it about the two of them together that's so fascinating?

So many little scenes are burned into Lucas's brain. Eddie holding the door for Steve, calling him sweetheart and babydoll and a thousand other little nicknames that make Lucas's face and ears go hot. Steve carrying Eddie piggyback through the rain because Eddie was wearing those ratty old Converse with the floppy sole and Steve was worried that if he stepped in a puddle he'd get frostbite or trench foot. The two of them sharing clothes, wearing each other's jackets. The way they move, how sometimes when the radio's on they'll dance, and first Eddie's the girl, and then Steve's the girl, and neither of them is actually a girl, and it doesn't even matter, it's all just whatever's fun in the moment, whatever makes them feel good, and holy shit. Oh, shit. Oh, God.

Lucas wants to fall asleep during movie night in Max's lap. He wants her to drape her jacket over his shoulders when he shivers. He wants her to put her arm around him, hold him like he's precious. He wants Max to want all of that, too.

His arm feels numb. If Lucas were a girl, or if Max were a boy, he'd ask if they could switch places. But he isn't, and she isn't, and what kind of guy asks his girlfriend to get off of him so he can use her as a pillow instead? Lucas isn't sure if there's a word for a guy like that. If there is, it probably isn't very nice.

So he lets his arm go numb. He tries not to look at Eddie, at the way he nuzzles into Steve's chest and Steve just holds him closer.

“Hey,” Max whispers in his ear. Lucas jerks a little in surprise and she huffs out a laugh. “You okay?”

“What?”

“You've been spacey lately,” she murmurs, “Usually you'd be trying to figure out the logistics of all the Muppet action.”

She's not wrong. Lucas is fascinated by how they make the Muppets ride bikes and stuff. There must be a lot of wires and people involved.

“Everyone's asleep,” Lucas whispers back, “Didn't want to talk. You know Erica hasn't been getting much sleep lately, didn't wanna mess it up.”

Max shifts, pulling Lucas' arm around her shoulders so she can snuggle into his side. It's a bit better, but now he's gotta endure the pins and needles phase.

“You're sweet.”

He can almost hear it, sweetheart like how Eddie says to Steve, but that isn't Max's style and it's silly of him to even think about it. It's not like he wants her to change. It's just nice to imagine a world where none of the gender shit really matters and they can be like Steve and Eddie, and Lucas can be held and feel safe because the real-life Ripley's got his back.

God, he's pathetic. Lucas sighs, flexing his arm to encourage that terrible tingling to run its course. He has an amazing girlfriend and he's whining about nothing. Well, whining to himself. In his head. It still counts. It's still total pussy behavior.

Lucas pulls Max closer, kisses the top of her head. He can feel her head turn to look up at him, but he keeps his gaze leveled at the TV, and she doesn't say anything. They're fine. He and Max are fine.

—

“You know you can talk to me, right?”

“Huh?”

Max turns her head sideways to take a bite out of her hot dog. It's cute. She always gets ketchup and mustard smeared on her nose if she just bites straight into it.

“It goes both ways,” she says, chewing, and it should be gross, but it's not, really, because it's Max. She finishes chewing and swallows before she opens her mouth again. “I'm your friend before I'm your girlfriend.”

“You got some…” Lucas picks up a napkin from the picnic table, leaning forward to wipe a smudge of ketchup off the corner of her mouth. He kisses her, quick, because he's there anyway, and she smiles into it before shoving him away.

“Nice try. You gonna answer me?”

“Answer what?”

Her smile fades. It's replaced by a look of concern that makes Lucas feel nauseous.

“You can talk to me. You know that. Right?”

"Right." Lucas takes a sip of his Coke, just for something to do with his hands.

“I'm not…” Max looks down, sighing before she meets his eyes again. “I'm doing better. I can… you don't have to be okay all the time, you know? You can tell me things. You can tell me anything.”

God, his chest aches. Lucas reaches out and takes her hand.

“I know,” he assures her. “I know.”

He hasn't seen Max look this deeply sad in a while. She looks down and lifts their entwined hands, pressing a kiss to the back of his knuckles, and his heart flutters.

“Okay,” she says. She lowers their hands, drops his, and picks up what's left of her hot dog.

As she tilts her head to the side and gets mustard on her cheek, Lucas gets the distinct impression that she doesn't believe him.

—

When did he start spending so much time around Steve and Eddie?

It sort of makes sense. He used to spend a small amount of time with Eddie, a moderate amount of time with Steve, and then they all went through some shit and bonded and Lucas's Eddie time got bumped up to moderate, and then Steve and Eddie became an annoyingly adorable package deal, and now Lucas can't escape them. He's a little pissed, honestly. Fuck them for being gay and in love and equal and shit. Ruining his life. Lucas has never really been the type to envy other people's happiness, and he feels like maybe Steve and Eddie are making him a worse person. Before, he always figured that if his friends are happy, then he's happy, and that's it.

Upon further reflection, though, it occurs to Lucas that perhaps he just never had friends with much of anything to envy.

“You look adorable, sweetheart,” Eddie states out of nowhere, and some small part of Lucas still expects Steve, with his jungle of chest hair and unreasonably large biceps and many years of womanizing, to shove Eddie away, to reject the sweet kiss Eddie presses to his cheek, but he doesn't. Of course he doesn't.

Lucas suddenly recalls the wild look in Steve's eye, the ferocity in his voice, the strength with which he batted the demodogs away back in the junkyard. It feels like so long ago.

Steve does sigh a little. When Eddie tries to move away, Steve tugs him to his side and kisses the mass of curls on his head. The vibe is kinda weird today. Steve seems… off. So does Eddie, but Eddie is so perpetually strange and erratic that Lucas could just be making shit up.

“Okay, okay,” Robin says, more to herself than anyone around her, “I think this is it? Yeah, this is…” She squints at the binder in her hand. “Okay, yeah!”

She hands over the impressively large binder to Steve and Eddie, who each hold one side so that it'll stay open and Robin can read her sheet music. Robin raises her trumpet to her lips. She pauses.

“Just remember, this is, like, totally unofficial, and I'm only playing one part, so it—”

Mike groans. “Oh my god, just play it.”

Nancy flicks his ear. He bats her hand away.

Robin waves Nancy off just before she delivers what looks like a devastating smack to the back of Mike's head. “No, he's—yeah, I'm gonna play it.”

She raises her trumpet, takes a deep breath, and then Lucas is hearing an incredibly loud rendition of the Star Wars theme reverberating through Mike's basement. It's honestly, like, really impressive. When Robin finishes, Lucas claps and whistles, and Mike says, "Holy shit, that was awesome," and Dustin and Nancy cheer too, and Robin's bashful smile warms Lucas's chest.

“Just imagine it with, like, a bunch of other trumpets and trombones and a tuba and some other horns and I think there's, like, piano and synthesizer and maybe a timpani too, but I think it sounds okay just with the trumpet. I mean, nowhere near as good, but you can, like, recognize it, you know?”

Robin's concert continues. This was supposed to be a big group study session, but Lucas doesn't mind the delay. Steve doesn't even need to study, he's just here because he's Robin's ride, so he'd probably say something if it was a problem. She plays Fly Me To The Moon and a few others that Lucas vaguely recognizes. Eventually, Robin tires, packing the trumpet away and condemning them all to hell.

“This shit sucks,” Dustin mutters, flipping a flashcard back and forth without looking at it.

Mike sighs his agreement.

Lucas shrugs. “At least we're not Eddie.”

All three of them glance over to where Nancy and Robin have been drilling Eddie for the past hour, only to find that he's nowhere to be seen.

“Huh. Guess he had enough.” Mike sounds jealous.

“I'm gonna go to the bathroom,” Lucas says, “Do me a favor and kill me when I get back.”

“Kill yourself,” Mike says.

“Don't worry, I'll kill you,” Dustin says supportively, “I'm a real friend.”

“Thanks.”

Lucas leaps over the coffee table to avoid disturbing the pile of backpacks and textbooks on the floor. He takes the steps two at a time, enjoying the chance to stretch his legs after an afternoon of sitting on Mike's couch. When he gets to the bathroom, the door is closed, and he reaches for the handle but freezes when he hears a voice.

“...didn't mean it like that,” Eddie says.

Lucas puts his hand down, but he inches closer to the door, just shy of pressing his ear up against the wood.

“I know, I already said it's fine.” Steve sounds tired.

“But it's clearly not because you're upset.”

“I'll get over it. You had a point.”

“Well, yeah, but I was being a total dick about it.”

“You know I don't mind a dick with… wait. Wait, I meant… uh, I'm used to your… shit.”

“You're used to getting dick from me? Or… uh, you don't mind a dick when it's mine?”

Steve snaps his fingers. “Yes! Yeah, those. Ugh, you're a genius.”

“No,” Eddie whines, “Don't be nice to me right now, I feel evil.”

“Ed, it's literally fine. You're right, it doesn't matter if I look perfect every time I walk outside.”

“But you do, that was my point, you don't need to worry about—”

“Eddie. Let it go. It's fine. I'm fine.”

“Can I just… Okay, I know this morning it seemed like I was just being an asshole because you were making us late with your hair stuff, but can I just explain what I meant to say?”

Steve sighs. “Yeah. Yeah, sure, go for it.”

“I just… I see you freaking out all the time about how you look, and what people think of you, and it's not that I think it's dumb, because I can understand wanting to feel confident and wanting people to accept you, but the thing is that you don't have to do that. You don't have to. You are the kindest, sexiest, most badass person I know, and that's not something you have to put on for other people, it's just who you are. So it drives me crazy to see you driving yourself crazy over who thinks you're a loser and who thinks you're a douchebag and all of that, because not only does it not matter at all what some random assholes think of you, but, like, when you're just yourself? When you're just being yourself, Steve, everyone falls in love with you, that's how I fell in love with you, and it breaks my fucking heart when you feel like you need to put on some kind of act or have perfect hair or whatever for people to like you, because you don't.”

Silence. Lucas waits, afraid that somehow they realized he was listening, but then Steve speaks, his voice thick with emotion.

“You love me?”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes immediately. “Yeah, I hadn't mentioned?”

“Mm, no, no, I think I'd remember if you—”

“You sure? You forget things a lot, you know—”

“Oh, shut up, I love you.”

“Ardently?”

“If that means a whole lot.”

“More or less. Means passionately. It's, uh…” Lucas can hear the embarrassment in Eddie's voice. He doesn't think he's ever seen Eddie embarrassed before. “It's from Pride and Prejudice.”

Steve laughs. “God, I love you. Then yes, Eddie Munson, I love you ardently.”

“And I you, Steve Harrington,” Eddie says, with a tinge of that regality he uses for upper-crust NPCs, but it sounds sincere at the same time, nothing about it even remotely artificial. “I love and admire you ardently.”

Lucas backs away from the door. His head feels kinda… buzzy, as he walks to the upstairs bathroom. He shouldn't have been listening in. That was a private moment, seemingly an important one, but Lucas has terrible impulse control lately and he has that feeling again, that one like he's reaching up for something that's barely out of reach, his fingers brushing it when he jumps, but he just can't quite jump high enough to get his hand around it and bring it down to his level.

When he gets back downstairs after his overly long bathroom break, he says he's feeling sick and heads home early. Steve seems concerned, but even as he asks if Lucas needs anything, he has this air about him, like he'd float right off the ground if his shoes weren't weighing him down. It's been a long time since Lucas felt like that.

He goes home. He switches out his jeans for sweatpants. He lays in bed, he stares at the ceiling, and he wonders.

Steve has kind of been, like, the pinnacle of being a man to Lucas these past few years. He's cool. He's strong. He's brave. He always goes in first, always comes out last, always puts himself between the people he loves and the source of danger, and Lucas wants to be like that. He's always tried to be a good friend, to listen and empathize and help when he could, but once the world shifted and suddenly bullies weren't the biggest threat in everyone's lives, he was left reeling.

He can still remember fumbling with his wrist rocket, shooting rocks at the Demogorgon because there was nothing else he could do, and he remembers the dawning realization that he was going to fail, and that his friends were going to die, and that it was going to be because he wasn't strong enough.

Steve fought off the Demogorgon.

He had a bat, yeah, and a lot more height and muscle than Lucas, but still. He did it. And if he could do it, then maybe so could Lucas one day, if he just kept working out, kept practicing with his wrist rocket and watching The Karate Kid. In retrospect, Lucas's logic wasn't great, but he was in middle school, so whatever. He's gotten a lot smarter since then. The wrist rocket is more useful for distraction than outright combat, and karate moves aren't really that helpful in a fistfight.

Steve was just… always solid. He always bounced back. He could take the worst beating Lucas had ever seen and then get up and save the world, and he was always okay at the end of the day, always Steve underneath no matter how bloody and bruised he was on the outside.

Lucas has never been hurt like that, but he's still had nightmares for about four years now. They never really go away. They aren't constant, but every time he thinks maybe he's kicked it, they come right back and leave him panting, sweaty, trembling with the lamp on at three in the morning because he needs to have a light or else he won't know that something's coming. He worries about not being strong enough. He worries about not being enough in general.

According to Eddie, all this time, Steve's been worrying too. Worrying what people think of him. Trying to earn his keep and be what everyone else wants him to be. Showing up late sometimes not because he was too cool to care about being on time, but because he was trying to make sure he looked perfect before going out in public. Eddie wasn't just complimenting him out of the blue earlier for no reason, he was trying to reassure him, comfort him, because Steve Harrington has insecurities. It should have been common sense, but the knowledge hits him like a firework to the face, lighting everything up and leaving Lucas disoriented in its wake. What else has he been missing?

When Steve and Eddie started dating, they didn't, like, announce it or anything. They just didn't hide it, and eventually everyone got the memo, and Lucas is still deeply ashamed of the fact that he was one of the last to realize. It was less about the fact that Steve was dating a man and more about the fact that Steve was letting a man stroke his hair and put a leather jacket on his shoulders and call him dollface, like, seriously. Lucas thought it was a joke. In his defense, he thinks a lot of Eddie's little nicknames are jokes, but there's also something painfully earnest about them that he recognizes now, like each one is a little I love you, and it had been hard for Lucas to see Steve as somebody who wanted that, as someone who needed reassurance and affection and wanted to be treated with care.

Maybe Steve has nightmares too. Maybe even muscles and a nail bat aren't enough to keep the demons at bay. Maybe if Lucas stopped hiding the fact that he needs reassurance and affection and sometimes he wants to be treated with care, maybe if he talked to Max… But Max has had to deal with so much worse. It wouldn't be fair to just dump all of his issues on her, too.

God, she'd be mad if he said that out loud. Lucas can almost hear her voice, saying something like, don't decide for me what I can and can't handle, and he smiles, alone in his room staring up at the ceiling, because he's been a little bit of an idiot.

If even Ripley can need some support now and then, why can't he?

—

“You seem lighter.”

“Hm?”

Max nudges his leg with her own. “That thing you've been weird about all month. You figure it out?”

Nobody is paying attention to them, sitting on the floor in front of Mike's couch side by side. The others are all debating something to do with DnD, he thinks, but he hasn't really been paying attention. Max rented The Karate Kid, and the two of them have been focused on the movie while everyone else got distracted.

“I think so,” Lucas says, and takes a chance. He leans over, resting his head on Max's shoulder, and immediately her arm comes up to wrap around him.

“And you're not gonna dump me?”

Lucas sits up to look at Max incredulously. “What? Why would I dump you?”

She looks embarrassed. She leans in and lowers her voice. “Okay, don't be, like, offended, and this might make me sound stupid, but I noticed you've been looking at Steve and Eddie a lot lately.”

“Oh my god,” he mumbles, and Max laughs.

“So, you’re not…”

“No.”

“That’s good.” Her eyes widen a little bit as soon as the words leave her mouth. “Uh, I mean, that’s good for me as your girlfriend, not, like, in general. And I mean, obviously you could like guys and still like me, but, you know, you seemed really deep in thought, so…”

Lucas laughs. “Wait, so you thought I was, like, having a sexuality crisis, and you didn’t…”

“I didn’t want to push you on it,” she shrugs, “I figured you’d tell me when you were ready. But then you just seemed like you were getting more upset about it, and you were doing that thing where you pretend like you don’t have feelings—”

“What? I don’t—”

Max raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, you do.”

“...Maybe.” Lucas sighs. “I kind of was. But that wasn’t… it wasn’t about, like, guys. Trust me, I tried, and the closest I got to being into a dude was you.”

Max’s face scrunches up. “Me?”

“It’s… listen, I was going through a lot of hypotheticals!”

She giggles. “And one of them was me as a guy? Was I hot?”

Lucas shrugs. “Yeah, I wasn’t not into you.”

“High praise.”

“No, it was…” Lucas trails off, unsure of how to say it. He turns back to the TV and lowers his head to Max’s shoulder again. She lets him, wrapping her arm around him, and actually, how did Lucas ever think this would be wrong? It’s Max. It’s only Max.

“I wanted this,” he mumbles.

“This?”

He grabs her hand where it rests on his arm. “Yeah. You know, they always… like, I just wanted you to hold me.”

“Lucas,” Max says, her voice uncharacteristically tender.

“I’m not saying I wanna be all gross like them, but… I don’t know.”

“...Could I give you my jacket sometimes?”

“Oh my god, yes,” Lucas says, and Max laughs.

“You don’t even know how many times I’ve wanted to give you my coat because you never learn—”

“I learn!”

“No, you dress for fashion instead of function and then you freeze your ass off!”

Lucas laughs too, turning to bury his face in Max’s dark blue jacket, one of the ones she snagged from Steve, and she tugs him closer until he’s practically sitting in her lap. He feels light, like he might float away if she wasn’t holding on to him. But she is. She’s holding him, and she’s laughing, and none of their friends seem to have noticed anything different. It’s just Max, and Lucas, and they’re better than ever.

—

Lucas holds the door for Max, letting her enter Family Video ahead of him. Steve and Robin are at the counter, Robin gesturing wildly as usual. Steve raises a hand, waving as Lucas and Max approach. “Hey, nice jacket, Sinclair. Is that one mine?”

“It’s mine now,” Max says, wrapping an arm about Lucas’s waist and pulling him into her side. “He only wore a t-shirt even though it’s freezing out because he needed everyone to see his arms.”

He rests his arm over her shoulders. “I don’t need to bring a jacket, I have you.”

She rolls her eyes. “You know, one of these days I’m not gonna take pity on you and I’m gonna let you freeze to death.”

Lucas hadn’t even been cold when Max took off her jacket and wrapped it around his shoulders. She had just done it out of the blue, stepped back, grinned, and said he looked good.

Robin sighs. “Ugh, you two are adorable. See, Steve, this is what I’m talking about!”

“And I’m telling you, all you have to do is have a conversation like a grown-up!”

“But it’s scary,” Robin whines, leaning her forehead against Steve’s chest and groaning. He pats her head comfortingly.

“I know. Max, I got your stuff on hold right over there.” Steve nods at a small stack of tapes on the counter. “Already checked them out for you.”

“You had stuff on hold?”

Max had spontaneously decided she wanted to have a home movie night instead of going to the theater, and Lucas had assumed it was just because she didn’t feel like going out.

She pulls him over the counter, and Lucas sees all three Star Wars movies in a neat pile.

“Surprise!”

Max isn’t that into Star Wars. She likes watching horror movies on date night, and she hates sitting through more than one movie at a time, but here she is with three space operas and a tentative smile on her face, and Lucas can’t help it.

“I love you.”

Max raises her eyebrows before dissolving into laughter. “That’s it? This is the moment?”

“Yes, shut up!”

She does not shut up. Max continues laughing. “Really? Because I rented Star Wars?”

“Because you know me.” Lucas grins. “You love me.”

“Well, yeah,” Max says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like he’d said that the sky is blue or that El’s a superhero.

Lucas hears a high-pitched squeal, and he turns to find Steve with a hand clamped over Robin’s mouth. Her eyes are wide and excited.

“Go have your little date before she explodes,” he says, waving them off.

“Thanks, Steve.” Max takes the tapes and turns to the door. Lucas jogs ahead to open it for her.

As Lucas follows her outside, part of him feels like he might just float off the asphalt right into the clouds, but he doesn’t worry about it. There’s no need. Max is right there, and he’s wrapped in her jacket, and she’s taking his hand for the short walk from the store to their bikes. No, Lucas won’t float away.

Max will keep him tethered.

#lesbianrobin.fic #stranger things fic #lucas sinclair #lumax #steddie #st fic #em talks #stranger things #btw this was written prior to volume 2!! pls keep that in mind #i've had people on ao3 be like uh but lucas HAS been hurt like that 🤨 and it's like i know but that had not happened yet. sorry.

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abbysbasement · 1 year

Text

(Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader)

— PAPI BONES

A/N: Hi, this is the formerly scrapped, 3x longer, 2 months writing project that I had because I wanted to fuck abby in a closet! this was actually supposed to be my first post on tumblr, but i got mad at it and sent it to the dungeon for two months :/ but yall wanted it, so I'm super happy i got to finish it, even though it took multiple days and cups of coffee to power through. sorry for the wait, hope you fuck wit her.

content tags (can you tell i don't want to write anymore ;w;): college au, childish antics at a big age, drinking, cool, ellie and dina are in this! kind of abstract sexual descriptions, assplay, cunnilingus (r!receiving), boob... touching? small mention of drugs because dealer!ellie, drunk sex, enthusiastic consent! :D, reader is kind of annoying sorry, men being assholes, reader catching feelings for a girl she fucked once, real.

wc: 7.6k ;w; (send help)

proofread?; barely.

tl : @clearheartgreyflowers, @oatmilkchaii, @ghostfacebunny, @ellsbclls (thank you to the sweetest deb @ellsbclls for helping beta read this, i appreciate your suggestions and encouragement and this would probably have been scrapped TWICE without your help ;w; )

synopsis: your best friend dina drags you to a college frat party. you hate shit like this, and you're painfully shy but when she does those puppy dog eyes you can't say no, so in a cruel twist of fate you end up in the closet with abby Anderson, and lose your virginity. yay college! (apart of the 'jackson university' thematic!)

Your idea of a Saturday night well spent wasn’t squeezing through a sea of sweaty backs; but like many things in your life, it wasn’t up to you, because you were easily swayed. Everything was overstimulating, the waves of bodies on bodies that pulsated and threw you between different poses and balances to keep on your feet, the ringing of laughter, of music, of every sound echoing in your head, around your body, vibrating through your very core. The smell of liquor and drunken antics and that one guy puking in the corner made you sick. But somehow, you were here, spurred on by peer pressure friendship and goodwill, trudging through the blackened room to your target; the snack table.

Dina, your roommate, and determinant best friend held a firm hand on the small of your back, pushing you through the crowd and causing a small jolt to run down your body as she steered you around every obstacle and corner in the room. She was a woman on a mission, and the one who dragged you out of bed, convincing you - against your better judgment- that it was fatal that you accompanied her to a frat party. You knew she was good-natured, and your first friend when you moved 500 miles away from home to college. It was an instant click, but you were opposite best friends.

Dina, ever the social butterfly, had connections in all different spaces; she could party with the sorority girls –hold the coke, please,– out-cram everyone, even the National Honor Society kids, all the way to the top of the class, hell, she was on the damn debate team, which was probably why it wasn’t a struggle to get a ‘yes’ out of you. You, on the other hand, were uncomfortable at bars, school sporting events, and parties, and one time you even thre– fuck, never mind. It was all effortless to her, in almost an enviable way. Dina loved to go clubbing, loved to hang, out, and she had been near-begging you to come out with her and her cool friends for months, not that you’re not cool, I mean.

And somehow, despite everything, it worked.

You could almost remember how you got there if you put away the sticky crunch of coke sticking to your shoes with each step, and reached back into the recesses of your mind. Or at least, back three-and-a-half hours ago.

“They’re all great people, no weirdos, promise!”

It was the emphatic plea made to you as you lay on your bed, queuing up the next episode of the apocalypse show you watched each week, watching her make Dina list off every reason why you just had to follow her out tonight. It was clearly very life-or-death shit to her, but you were unconvinced. It was just a party but there was going to be a smaller, more intimate kickback in a friend-of-a-friend’s basement. She was in the middle of getting ready, sitting at her school-issue desk and looking at herself in the mirror, dark hair coned over her head in a bun as she sat in deep concentration, words slurred and simple as she applied mascara, her mouth slacked into an O position.

“So you’re gonna like, fucking go, yeah?”

She said it as though it was obvious, like it wasn’t a question, but one look at you, –curled up in covers, laptop on chest, martini glass pajama pants and teddy bear teeshirt ON, unbothered– showed her that it would be a tall order, and that big guns would be needed.

“Not interested, sorry.”

“Not even a tinyyyyy bit?” Dina squeezed her fingers together for emphasis, throwing her head back in mock exhaust, a theatric groan rumbling out of her throat. “Not even a little bit.” You echoed, your roommate cutting her eye at you through her handheld mirror, but it was what it was. You weren’t into all of that stuff; the bump and grind of sweaty bodies wasn’t alluring, listening to someone else’s shitty music at ear-bleeding levels felt like hell, and if you wanted to get pitifully drunk and throw up all over yourself, there was a garbage can right under your bed. But your friend really, really, wanted your company and it made you feel, really, really bad to always blow her off.

“Why are you going so hard on this?” You bemused as you propped up on your elbows, watching as she stalked around the room in her newly painted face, quickly rummaging through her drawer for a spare outfit.

“Maybe because it bums me out to see my super cool roommate wasting away in her dorm every weekend?” In Dina’s mind, she was making a lot of sense. She was waiting for you to chime in, to say you know what, Dee? You’re right, I get it. But instead, you stared blankly, and she threw down her arms in exasperation. “You’re in fucking college, man! You don’t even wanna have one night of fun?” She punctuated the ‘fucking’ with a wild gesture around her head, which made you chuckle to yourself.

“I mean, I was planning on wa–”

Your body was jostled by an insane amount of weight, almost turned completely over by two roughhousing dudes– a mess of limbs and arms, who looked at you and then at each other, as though they had spontaneously sobered up. You didn’t even have the time to start to be angry when they prattled off a blended, slurred apology and thrashed somewhere away through the mass of hands and faces in the dark room.

Fucking assholes, ruining the flashback sequence.

The room was lit only by haphazard mood lights; soft LEDs and gaudy, flickering Christmas baubles, a solitary television, camped by stoners who laughed madly, and the dim auburn glow of the odd ceiling lamp nestled in the far back of the house. You were out of your element; you couldn’t dance, weren’t the most social, and even though you were with a friend, all of this made you feel very alone.

Dina cut through the crowd with her elbow, bellowing out “Ex–cuse me!” while she pushed you through gaps as they formed. Her voice fell to mutter again, barely audible, chunked and cut by the music bouncing from wall to wall, grumbling that she had places to be, and if E*&^$ didn’t get her off at least once, there would be hell to pay. She was determined to get to the other side of the room, where it was arranged that by the chips, as smokers usually are, she would find her current fuckbuddy and her friends, waiting to hotbox and pregame a bit more before the room peaked. She was driven by horniness and selfishness, as one typically is after four shots of Tito’s vodka, and getting smoked out and ‘taken care of’ upstairs was half the reason she even came.

You’d never met her most recent suitor, and the question of her girlfriend was always met with a ‘no, she’s just my sneaky link.’ but you didn’t question it enough to know more. She was just the girl who Dina would go off campus to meet, and as long as she wasn’t a slasher, and her pre-rolls knocked you on your ass, it would be what it was. You were carried away by your friend’s excitement, by her heavy hand nearly lifting you off of your feet as she beelined to the kitchen, wrangling your twin bodies every which way.

“Ellie! Ellie!” She yelled, jumping up and down a bit to compensate for her voice being swallowed by the bass. She burrowed through the wave, pushing you towards a girl leaning against the sink, nursing a red cup and low, hazy eyes. Her auburn hair was swallowed by a black docker, and a dark-coloured backpack jutted out from behind her as she smiled and waved the two of you –mostly Dina, into her orbit. She looped her head under your shoulder to be pulled into the strong hug of firm biceps, and Arms looked you over, offering a friendly nod.

–

“It’s on streaming. You can watch ‘Many of Them’ literally whenever!”

“Live tweeting is a part of the experience.” You chided matter-of-factly, sitting up cross-legged. It wasn’t like the brunette was wrong, exactly, but you couldn’t give up too much at once. Going soft was not a part of the plan.

“Fuck, whatever– You know the girl I’ve been hooking up with, right?” Her eyebrow raised at your dispassionate ‘not really.’ “Well you know her fucking joints, she sells– weed, shrooms… pills?” Dina listed off with her finger, mulling over the last detail for a second, then confirming in her head with a nod. It’s fine, you’re cool, and the two of you had always bonded over your love of recreational joy anyways. “So, if you wanna smoke orsomething– I got you, all you have to do is show up.” Her hands were up almost sheepishly as she tested the waters, but you weren’t super convinced, and your idea of fun wasn’t exactly playing wingman while she got tongue-fucked by a drug dealer, and the pregnant pause was enough to cue her into having to bring out the big guns.

“-And, and! I'll wash all our dishes, and cleanyoursideoftheroomforaweek.”

Damn, she practically ran through that last part, so under her breath you knew she was hoping that you didn’t hear. But you did, and for a second you could almost see a smirk play on her face as your eyes lit up. She was always up for a good bribe, and even though she would act annoyed, it was great for breaking you out of your shell. She would offer to watch the zombie show if you came out to the bars in your college town with her, pizza if you confessed to your crush instead of instastalking them three times a day, even though it didn’t work, –oh well, shooters shoot– and tonight? A week free from chores if you just spent a couple of hours in your own personal hell. Yeah, you would give her this one.

“Now we’re talking. If you want someone to be the lookout while you and Jesse Pinkman go at it, who am I to deny?” You teased, kicking your legs over the edge of the bed.

Your roommate craned her head up, momentarily stopping her mission of rifling through her clothes. “Who said that?”

“You’re in your ‘good panty’ drawer.” You whispered cheekily.

“Well, you got me. Someone has to get fucked around here.”

“Oh fuck you, bitch!” You laughed, throwing your pillow, hitting smack in the center of her chest.

Dina bounced around the room, practically billowing with glee. There was a descending, barely audible ‘fuck yeah’ as she traipsed down the hall towards the bathroom, rounding the corner and disappearing from your periphery.

“By the way, you know Jesse’s last name is Huang, right, not Pinkman? And we’re uh– not together anymore.” Dina shouted through the silence.

“That’s a character from Breaking Bad. It was a joke– because he’s a drug de–” You stopped yourself midway. “Never mind. It’s not funny if I explain it.”

“Oh– I never watched Breaking Bad. Too Long.” She deadpanned. You chuckled to yourself, shaking your head as you slid your way off the bed.

That’s how you found yourself in a dimly lit bathroom, missing the comfort of your memories as ‘Ellie’ rolled a blunt. You stood leaning against the door and Dina sat on the closed toilet seat. The dealer sealed the last of the leaf with a flick of the tongue and a lick of spit, maintaining direct eye contact with Dina so she could not-so-subtly show off. She passed it to the brunette first, who mimed a cheeky, ‘why thank you’ and drew poutily. You three sat there for a while, smoking and talking, steam from the hot shower wafting above your heads as music pumped through the foundation of the house.

There was laughter outside of the door and it soon became awkward for you, Ellie and Dina finishing the blunt, –you were a lightweight– and chatting idly as Dina traced a fingertip against the outline of the tattoo Ellie was showing off.

The temperature of the tiny room ran hotter between their reddened eyes, and it was as though you were being banished by a galactic force. You couldn’t mistake how the red-haired girl’s glance caught an extra second or so at the way Dina’s body was hugged just right in her party dress, cleavage strained against the fuchsia PVC of her neckline, and how she bit the corner of her lip when her eyes hooked on a dark mole on Dina’s breast that was framed by the feathers of her black hair.

It was time to go, unless you were interested in seeing your best friend get dug out on the countertop.

You were already a little bit wobbly, hearing a giggle that slipped from Dina’s lips morph into a squeak as you slipped out of the crack you pulled in the door and into the fray, getting carried down the stairs and back over to the drinks. You crossed over a kissing couple, cutting into their makeout and heavy petting session, and through a huddled together group of girls whispering something about seeing an ex across the room.

You gripped onto the countertop for stability when you finally broke free from the pulsating wave of bodies. There was a bit of everything surfing in deep bowls of ice and water, open bags of chips and snacks bunched up together on the island. You could not be sober for this shit. You wedged up the pop cap on a hard seltzer and brought it to your lips, the spirit coating your tongue and boiling its way into your stomach. There it was again, the familiar warm feeling in your hands and feet, the soft pressure already creeping across the flat of your face. Yeah, now that was it. The anxiety began to melt away, and you leaned against the countertop, flexing your legs.

Wow, they’re inviting giants to the shindig too. You laughed to yourself as the scarlet-lit ocean parted, and a tall, wide figure walked through and into the darkness of a descending flight of stairs. If only it was that easy when you needed to piss, notwithstanding that you had already been in the bathroom.

It’s fun being sardonic sometimes.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see your roommate coming down the stairs, the dealer’s deft fingers pulling down part of her dress that rode up her ass. She arched her head up, straining left and right like the eye of a submarine as she looked for you; her eyes lit up, waving to you as she fisted her companion’s belt loop, bouldering through the sea of people. She was high as fuck, if her bright pink eyes were enough to speak to it, and your gaze lingered over the new expanse of a deep purplish hickey on her neck, small indents from teeth glimmering with saliva in the light.

There was that hotness again that burned in the pit of your stomach, not from drunkenness or anxiety, but the can of fruity liquor in your hand covered up for the embarrassing flush of your wild cherry-coloured cheeks. You peeled your eyes back up to her face and smiled dumbly. You’d never had *that* before. You’ve watched things before at least, and obviously, touched yourself to the thought, but you’ve never had someone to fool around with in bathrooms or hold your skirt when it rode up.

There was your first kiss, but it was in middle school, so it didn't count. It was all clammy lips, two noses that couldn’t get the space between them *quite* right, and an overzealous set of chompers that left you with a bloody lip. Actual horseshit, but somehow, a core memory. It was annoying in a way, how it just didn’t come to you, but you wanted to be wanted. To be lusted over, desired even in that casual touchy way that simmered between your best friend and the girl you didn’t know very well. Dina was making grabby hands at you, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed. Your drink bobbed as she whisked you to her will, you and Ellie sharing a knowing look as she pushed your bodies through the hall and down the darkness of the stairwell.

–

“RULES ARE SIMPLE,” some asshole in a hat bellowed as he stood over all of you who sat in the circle, mildly drunk off your asses and looking for easy fun. He held up a black beer bottle, carrying it like a trophy and swishing it around your noses for a closer look. “You kids might know seven minutes in heaven.” You didn’t know him, but according to Dina, this was his house, his party, and his very annoying rules. A light patch of raised skin played against his nose as he scrunched his nose over and over again, hands on hips, clearly trying to steal back whatever thought the liquor took from him. Jason, right?

Whatever.

“But we’re all grown-ups here, so I present to you–” He rolled the bottle in hand, clearly soft-launching his bright idea. “Fifteen minutes in purgatory!” There was a deep groan radiating from some, but there was a small minority that exploded in cheers, and whoops. “Pretty self-explanatory, two adventurers venture deep into purgatory, and come out forever changed.

“Two adventurers go deep into purgatory,” He gestured his head at the foreboding broom closet in the back of the room. “And return forever changed.”

“We’ll use the bottle to choose our unlucky voyagers, and you’ll spend fifteen minutes in the closet.” He explained, dropping the mystique in the second half. “Alright kids, let’s start; and just for the record– If you’re a pussy, get the fuck out of the circle!”

The drunken cast of partiers whooped and cheered, hyping each other up, spilling beer out of red cups as they gestured wildly, entirely too grown for this. The room played ‘not it’ to pick who got the first spin, and the unfortunate soul was a blonde who sat cross-legged, blank-eyed at the black glass handed to her, nodding her head tersely.

“We got our very own Abigail Anderson– !” Her eyes narrowed. “Andddd….” Hat praised, cueing her to spin. She took the bottle, pointing the tip towards herself and then spinning it, the glass doubling, tripling the circle, making you dizzy chasing it with your eyes, and everyone sat with bated breath. It slowed and slowed and slowed, until, like ugly fate, it stopped at your feet.

“Our newbie!” He got up to cheese, leaning over you, placing his hands over your shoulders, and rocking you from side to side. You laughed awkwardly, putting your palms up defensively at nothing.

“Um– uh…” You were at a loss for words, only cut off as his head shot into your field of view, hot, hopsy breath tanging your nostrils. “What, you scared?” He taunted, all eyes on you, watching as you nursed a deep discomfort about the whole thing behind an uneasy smile.

“You’re a fucking asshole, Jordan.” The girl, Abby, groaned. She looked up at you from her downward pointing head, swishing her bottle of hard cider in the hand propped over her knee. Jordan, that was the name of this dickhead. Yeah, fuck him. “If she doesn’t want to get in the closet, she doesn’t want to get in the closet. I’ll just spin again.”

Dina cut in, the redhead still leaning lazily against her. “Yeah, don’t–dont be a dick, Jordan.” Her face was tight, and Ellie was annoyed because Dina was annoyed, and the room held a pregnant silence, and even though it wasn’t your fault, you felt all too responsible and all too uncomfortable with all of the eyes watching you.

“It’s fine, guys. Let’s all– eh, chill out, okay? I’m going to take the dare.” You leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper, trying to steal back the vibe, trying to replace the tension with playful drama as you circled your head around, wiggling the fingers slightly of your held-up palms. “Because I’m not a little bitch.”

The crowd exploded in raucous laughter, each voice clashing together and mimicking the sound of a pipe bursting. You looked over at your partner, who seemed pleasantly surprised, a smirk playing on her peach lips. She placed down her bottle and stood, and as she towered over you, you realised that maybe you were playing with fire. She was scary and nonchalant, but the outer workings of her face were soft and gentle. She didn’t look like the girls in the videos you watched at night; she was something different, uncharted, and before you knew it, a nervousness, and something lower, darker, ran through your body.

Then it was time to go, you piling in first, looking around at some of the half-darkness in the room, barely enough to fit two people in.

The asshole patted the girl’s back, corralling her into the closet behind you. Blood rushed to your head, the pressure was too great, like getting skullfucked through your ears. show her a good time, you could hear him say, and then something that you couldn’t quite understand over the bass. The mountain’s eyes narrowed, but before she could shoot back, her large body crashed into yours and the space became tighter and tighter, just enough for the two of you to put your arms out to either side or turn around. For a split second, you could see Dina’s face from over Jordan’s shoulder, tightened in concern, a timid thumbs up at the side of her head. Then, he closed the door, and the last of the light slipped out through the crack in the wall.

There was a deep silence, and somehow, like the hazy feeling you get right before you wake from a dream, you were chest to chest in the darkness with her blue eyes staring back at you, damn-near bioluminescent. You’d seen her around, because everyone sees her around, but it hadn’t registered that the giant who had parted all of those people in the crowd like they were just water, was standing right in front of you. Outside you could hear the rumble of the music, vibrations of the bass wrapping around you and shaking you from the inside out. The closet was too tight, too warm, too filled with smells from towels and coats and folded blankets and dusty boxes of light bulbs and two cramped, awkward bodies.

Suddenly, you felt all too intimidated.

“You’re Abigail, right?” You questioned. “Off the rugby team?”

“Abby.” You couldn’t read her face in the dark, and though she spoke pointedly she didn’t seem angry, but the accidental overstep was enough to make you want to dig a hole through the floor with your bare hands and die in it. “And yeah– captain, of the rugby team.”

“Oh, sorry, sorry.” You yielded. “So… what are we supposed to do? In here, I mean.” You gestured at nothing, knocking some washcloths from a top shelf down in the dark. “Ah, damn it.” You cursed under your breath, bending down to pick up the small stack. You could hear Abby behind you, sucking her teeth with a judgy hum. Her brows were almost touching her eyelids, captured in secondhand embarrassment, and she almost felt bad for how awkward you were, scrambling to pick them up from the floor.

If you could see her face, you’d be able to tell how her eyes flicked up and down her body, taking everything in. Your black skirt slid slightly to bunch at the front, uncovering portions of your doughy thigh and the ever-so-tiniest range of fabric hiding your prettiest secret. She had to tear her eyes away, almost. She jumped, even, glad you couldn’t see as you popped back up.

You were cute, holding the disheveled stack in your hands, a look of sheer pride on your face. You looked over to the side, tossing them unceremoniously on a free shelf, gravity taking a couple back to the ground. Your sated chuckle, the way your tits pushed up slightly, illuminated, almost framed like art by the neckline of your cream cardigan made her hungry. She pushed the ideas of what she wanted to do with them out of her mind, but damn, she could think about some things that would make the devil embarrassed. She stomped down her desire, stoicism crossing her for a second, only for her to open it back up on second thought.

“They want us to fool around, fuck, ideally.” She started, analysing your expressions for any hint of discomfort at the conversation. “But– we don’t have to do anything.” She tried to cut some of the thick discomforts with a placating smile, almost lost in detail in the low light. She was huge, more so than you, or most anyone else you knew, the jutting-out edge of a shelf knocking the back of her head every time she leaned her head back in the tight space. The hard washboard of her torso was framed by an opening of a grey hoodie and barely much else, just the thick band of her boxers peeking from her sweatpants, and the black of a cropped tank top that stopped right below her bra line.

“Jordan… is typically a good guy, but when he gets drunk he’s a total POS.” Abby was sallow-faced, pursing her lips, tension running through her jawline. “I shouldn’t have let him put you on the spot like that. So… I’m sorry that you got pressured to get in here.”

“It’s fine, I just.” You started, ready to say that big phrase, the one that slightly burned your back to admit. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“What, played seven minutes in heaven? Yeah, kind of a jackass thing to suggest in your twenties.”

Shit. She was going to make you say it.

“No. I mean I’ve never–” and you thought your tiny voice couldn’t get any tinier. “had sex before.”

Abby breathed in the deepest sigh, pure anxiety crossing her face for a split second, before she was feeding you apologies. “It’s fine, we don’t have to do anything we can just sit here and talk. Or be in silence if you want it’s alr–”

“I want to do it.” You said doggedly, pressing yourself into a tiny corner. Her brow perched, and there was something in those narrowing blue eyes that said she didn’t believe you. You were pigeontoed, legs shifting against one another, declaring in your firmest voice that you wanted her to take your virginity.

“Are you sure?” She breathed out, stepping a bit closer. “You don’t have to feel pressured to do anything because you think they want a show.”

“Oh, my god.” You were pouting, annoyed. “I can choose if I want to have sex you know, and I want to have sex right here right n–”

She kissed you, softly as possible, testing your waters to see how far you were willing to go. Her hands were patient, one lightly knotted in the woolen knit of your cardigan to lightly pet your lower back, the other making gentle grips on your sweatered arm. Her fingers were barely bruising, gripping around your wrist almost tight enough, and a tiny shockwave coursed between your thighs and convinced you that you wanted more. In this low light, in this dark room, in this place between space and time, you wanted to be her conquest. To be taken, touched, manhandled, to be made to weather the storm of her overwhelming strength against you, lost in the middle of the ocean.

It was perverted, almost, how the idea of her showing restraint raised hairs on your skin, how you deepened the kiss like you were being overcome with an insatiable, bloody hunger. You had to take back the moment, to steal her attention in a way she couldn’t deny before she thought you were all talk; you stepped closer, positioning yourself so that her thigh hovered right below the heated space under your skirt. Her hand was warm, soft as you grabbed it, moving it lower, deeper down the divot of your back and where the fat of your ass connected. She caught on, groaning into your lips as she kneaded around your body, her tongue sweeter and heavier against yours, working that one damned hand up your skirt to cup bare skin.

You jumped.

As fast as it had come, her hand slipped back from under your skirt and the touch was lost completely, awkwardly hovering for a second until Abby pulled it back into her pocket and stepped back. You were miserable, eyes welling up in frustration like a lost dog at the lack of feeling. She was pulling you into insanity but was too chivalrous to drown you in it, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly as she looked down at you.

“Fuck– didn’t mean to be aggressive like that. I–” The redness bled across her cheeks, freckles on full display as her fingers met the wet spot that you were hiding, your hands guiding hers to the space between your thighs. There was a pause, a knowing, a challenge between the two of you as an unknown heat spread throughout your bodies, and you collided once more. The blonde’s mouth sucked a nasty pressure into your throat, agitating it with bites and licks as her head traveled deeper, hands playing at the front of your sweatered torso to undo the buttons that held your breasts hostage.

Her entrance was assured as she popped the loops open, fingers gripping the fabric of your camisole and lifting up, taking your bra with it. She nipped at the exposed flesh, heat from her mouth traveling directly to your vagina, clit throbbing hard with need. Abby engulfed a nipple with the wetness of her tongue, closing her lips around the rapidly hardening bud to pull it to full attention, chuckling as she scraped the flesh with her teeth. The wet head was replaced with her palms, each thumb and forefinger rolling one or the other. The sensitivity of the tiny flesh was insane, enough to make you whine out loud as she continued, better than anything you had ever done to yourself.

You were biting your lip, eyes big and doe-like as you waded through your pleasure, soft pants heaving your chest. She fished it out from between your teeth and hooked it within her own, popping the plump flesh into her mouth as she pared yours with her tongue. You swore the room was spinning, a wetness slicking between your thighs, a drip positioned between two pairs of hungry lips. You could’ve spent all fifteen minutes– or an eternity, in this beautiful hell, giving and taking and relishing in a different, sort of strange type of want.

“Don’t stop.” You moaned in between stolen breaths, the blonde chasing your mouth each time you pulled away.

“For you, pretty?” Gripping you tighter for emphasis, pressing you closer into the wall, angling further between your spread legs. “Never.”

It was like you were some weird intoxication to her, a drug that she couldn’t get enough of. How your ass molded right into the divots of her palms, those tiny moans that rang through the cage you two were in, the rapid beating of your heart rippling through your body. She wanted to peel your cardigan from your shoulders, wanted to shred your clothes from your body and take you however she liked, and make you feel better than you knew what to do with. Needed to make you scream and fuck you until you cried. But it was your first time, so she resigned to being gentle and soft, like you were a little deer in the forest, and she was trying to get close without scaring you off. so she would give you only what you needed.

She didn’t have a lot of strong feelings about that nickname she had earned in sophomore year, War Machine, from all of the pretty girls she ran through and left unable to walk, unable to talk for a couple of days or more. but when Jordan said it, in front of you, in front of sweet and innocent, pretty and tiny *you* she could’ve reeled back and torn him apart. But she still didn’t want to scare you. So she had forced an alright, the one a child forces when they get scolded, and hid the burning in her palms that made her want to fight in the pocket of her pants.

Your eyes bored x-rays through her formidable thighs as she bent her knees to squad before you, strong hands rubbing up and down your thighs with contrasting gentleness to the hard angles of her face, the brow that was crooked down slightly in concentration, the slightly parted lips playing with mischief as they took you in. You were frightened for just a second, until Abby looked up at you with sympathetic eyes, a hand leaving your thigh and linking with your fingers, guiding you to the base of her skull to envelop her honeyed strands.

She was back at you, the darkness in your stomach leaking out as you palmed her head, and she ran her hands upward, more upward, until the ruffles of your cotton skirt were overturned in her palms. From the waist down, you were completely exposed, a wet spot working itself into your panties from your innermost recesses and a musky scent betraying your shyness.

Abby pressed herself gently into the fabric, her fat lips creating a cool pressure against the hot flesh, her nose itching lightly into your pubis. You bucked your hips unconsciously, nearly fucking her face in your abandon. A vibration from her laugh traveled through you, nestled inside of you, and more wetness began to slick your channel. That friendly ache formed in your rapidly hardening clit, and a similar pain throbbed in your pinkie and middle finger. Her other hand moved up, gripping fistfuls of your ass, less forgiving now, and forcing a squeak from your lips.

You were dumbstruck; a stranger’s hands all over you, mouth nearly on top of your sacred place, nearly leaking from sheer lust. She had barely done anything. Your jaw slacked, and in your mind you felt like a fool, lamenting how you thought your first time would be special. Soft circles rubbed into your inner thigh as she pulled your legs apart, peppering angel kisses throughout the little divots.

“S’okay, baby.” Her voice was barely a whisper, a tiny encouragement that calmed the buzzing in your mind. “Tell me how you want me. I’m yours.”

and you thought that declaration would destroy you,’ I’m yours.’ and it felt very, very real.

“I want you to touch me.” You said, barely a whisper, nodding as she pressed her face to your thigh, sliding down your panties to about knee-level. It was as though she had seen heaven’s gate open, awestruck at the blood rushing to engorge your lips, how your clit stood on end without even being touched. The thatch of hair curling between your thighs and around your depths. She had to have a taste, and there wasn’t much room for second-guessing as she pressed her mouth to the hot spot and flattened her tongue directly against the wettest space.

Juicy noises slid from her mouth as she rolled your clit between her tongue and sucked sharply with her lips, and it was as though you could’ve sunk to the floor, the way your legs became distinctly not yours. It was enough, enough, not enough, then too much. It was like you were an endlessly gushing fountain as Abby’s wet, firm tongue parted your lips, dipping ever so lightly into your hole as she licked out a string of nectar from your drooling cunt. It was as though you were animated, possessed even, as your hands flew into her hair, pushing her head down further and further, to that release you chased violently and madly.

Abby was humble, letting you guide her where you needed her; she was soft at first, but you didn’t want soft, you wanted more.

She obliged.

The blonde slipped her fingers between your thighs and parted your slit, opening up an endless, waiting tightness. She was intrepid, pressing through your clenching muscle and opening you up more than you had ever done; thick digits tearing through you, fucking your pussy at an unforgiving pace, concentration forming in the muscles of her neck. You hid an inhuman growl in the pit of your throat, in the crook of your sweatered elbow, and she moaned out, satisfied with that which she had created inside of you. You were fucking her face in a tight, dirty closet, calf propped over a muscled shoulder for support, the heel of your booties pressing into the wall, locking her in.

It was as though the two of you were fighting, every roll of your hips she chased with her head, every time you shied away from the pleasure she held you harder, taking you even hungrier, diving deeper to a spot you didn’t know was there; every taut pull at her scalp met with an even tighter grip into the flesh of your plush ass. The pads of her fingers violated the sopping warmth of your cunt, and you clenched your stomach unwittingly, walls flexing, holding her hand there. Drool dripped from between her lips, pooling and soaking down into the fibres of an old shag rug, caked with dust and whatever else.

Your own slipped between your lips before you could suck it back in, and the silver trail bounced, the way it does when it breaks, and the thick drop cascaded down her temple, getting lost in your brow. The piece that was yours snaked down your collarbone and between your breasts and somehow, you felt a connection.

Abby snorted, sucked in a breath as her fingers left you empty. Fuck. She didn’t go for her face, wiping them on the skin of your pussy, they traveled upwards, firm grips on your ass. She rubbed the flesh as though she was throwing clay, stretching the skin between her rough fingers, calluses on her palms coasting over every bump and groove. She had found what she had wanted, craning her neck lower, lower, until you could just barely see her eyes. Her fingertips prodded, greedy, opening your lips, tongue leching against your soft fruit as though she was funneling the juices directly into her mouth. You thought your thighs would give out but she held you, stronger, and you fed her willingly.

Her middle finger dipped down into the slit, collecting juices, stealing a breath from your lungs, you wanted to scream her name but it was caught inside of you, so you stood slack-jawed, fuck drunk as she abused your walls, fucking every ridge painfully slow. The tight hole stretched around the meatiness of her finger, and she hooked it as though she was searching, retreating from the warmth, slick with your nastiest of liquids. Again, she split your ass with one hand, and you clenched your tightest hole without thinking about it.

“Don’t worry,” She said, muffled against your mound as she latched against it once more, “gonna help you so fucking good.” You were confused, but you trusted her, a complete stranger. For a second you began to ask what there was to worry about, but your mind was pried away from you as you felt the pressure of her coated fingertip tracing around your asshole. A gentle kiss played at the head of your pussy, comforting you as you nodded your head wildly, something of a ‘yes’ flying from your throat as her middle finger parted that threshold.

Your mind exploded, head shooting straight up into the air, a small yelp burning into a silent open-mouthed cry. You were spinning, the room was spinning, your body heated up instantly. Then, the wet warmth traveled back to your clit, her opposite hand nestling two fingers into your aching, needy twat, her tongue lapping as her fingers resumed digging and that one damned finger fucked in and out of your tightest hole painfully slow.

She fucked you like an animal; you cried out like a bitch in heat. The music trembled through your ears, and you were afraid it wouldn’t be enough, that everyone would hear, everyone would know. You were both drunk and this didn’t matter, didn’t mean anything, but she was bottoming her tongue out in you and you wanted it to mean a lot. Girls talked and you fucking hated them all. She was loose, she got around, and you wanted to be hers.

You wanted to capture her and be interesting to her and walk with her hand on your lower back around campus. Wanted her callused fist in your hair, around your neck as she took you every night. Wanted badly to fucking cum, to open the portal, to wash her face with this unholy water, wanted to kiss wet lips and taste everything. Wanted to know if she could ever like you, after you gave it up, quickly, bellowing like a foghorn against a rack of coats. You wanted to be kept, to keep her spit inside of you like a keepsake but she sucked it back in a quick second, before you could even feel her cheeks hollow between your thighs, and felt dirty for even thinking of it.

A sweet pain formed between your thighs and you couldn’t stop the groan that rose from your throat, every muscle in your face clenching and unclenching, your eyes crossing as your orgasm came quickly into view. Abby fucked you through it, fingers slow and forgiving. It was as though a stream of slowly descending tidal waves were crashing against you, and you needed more, it hurt but you needed more. Something deep burned inside of you, endlessly hot, and you wondered how she could stand the heat as she hit it over and over again. You sobbed, and swore that you could feel a tear roll down your cheek, feeling the need to rub your eyes for good measure.

She looked up, entranced, face softening for a second, watching as you gave up your mind to your body. There was a hard knock at the door, the music lowered a decibel, silence filling the two of you, her fingers still deep inside of your two holes. A sing-song voice bellowed out ‘five minutes!’ and the darkness ridged her eyes.

For the first time, her voice was hard, removing her hand from your cunt, making sure to curl the one in your ass tighter in compensation. She slammed the door twice with her fist, the frame bulging in a way that made you fear the whole thing would just fall down. “Fuck off.” Her voice was loud enough to tear through the uncomfortable tension. There was an apprehensive, ‘woah man,’ that you could barely hear, and the music regained, the party rejoiced, and hopefully, the fear of God being struck enough in your host to leave well enough alone.

Her lips were still slick, soft, kissable with your juices. She flashed you a genuine, pretty smile. Her hands gripped a little too tight but you wanted it all. She looked down at the mess between your trembling thighs, then at your heavy, panting face. She leaned back on her heels as a wide smile played on her face, satisfied with herself. A windy chuckle passed through her glistening lips, wiping her mouth and chin on the inside of her hoodie. “Fuckin’ insane.” She breathed out in between pants.

“Abby.” She said, as though the strength of your orgasm traveled through your brain and made you forget the events of the last 15 minutes. “Constance Hall. Dorm 425 on the second floor.” It was as though your heart skipped a beat, but you punched it down, a weak smile playing against your lips.

She was fucking disheveled, almost inhaling the last sweet smells of your pussy, creating a memory of the flavour and filing it away in her mind for safekeeping. She was delicate, pulling your white panties up to your thighs again, soothing a finger where those soft, curly pussy hairs were hidden again. She let down her hands, skirt furling down, covering the marks of dark possession that she left behind. “Come see me again sometime, ‘kay?” She chuckled, giggled even, and that glint in her eyes was enough to make you faint.

She stood up, waiting for you to compose yourself and straighten everything out before she pushed open the now-unlocked door and peeked her head out.

Jordan was already on her as the door flew open, and you could hear his hushed nosiness as you hugged the wall and tried to act casual, eyes locked on her retreating back as she reentered the room, light haloing her. ‘So what happened?’ you swore his lips read, and your stomach dropped. But she cut through his questions, loud enough for you to hear, convincing enough that he wouldn’t have anything to run his mouth about later on.

“Nothing man, we were just talking.”

Maybe she was actually just that charming.

Yeah.

#tiki writes #abby x reader #abby anderson x fem reader #abby anderson ff #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby tlou #abby tlou smut #abby smut #abby anderson x female reader

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eustasskidagenda · 11 months

Note

Hiiii

Could you maybe write a scenario where reader gets super drunk and Kid takes care of them. I think he’d seem mad but actually be really sweet

Thank you!!

Hello, dear anon! Thank you for your request. I'm always happy to write with Kid and I had a lot of fun with this one! Hope it meets your expectations.

☆Kid (trying) to take care of a drunk s/o

CW : alcohol, cursing, vomiting, and mentions of sex, fun, fluff, g/n reader

WC: around 1,300

Your whole world is completely blurred. How many beers have you consumed since the beginning of the evening? Too much, you even lose the count. You just get carried away by the happy mess created by your fellow mates. From far, the Victoria Punk crew might seem scary, weird, or even rude, but it's like a big family of marginalized people and you love cheering with them. But now, you feel really drunk. Way, way too much alcohol in your system, you’re totally intoxicated.

"One more," you mutter under your breath, slurring all your words. Heat is on his way to bring you another cup of alcohol when a large manicured hand falls on the table brutally. "No fucking more, you moron." You try to frown but you're way too drunk, so you just fail miserably and start laughing, trying to grab the beer. "Come on Kid, don't ruin the fun." You're forced to scream because the punk music inside the bar is way too loud. "You're so weak, how can you get so drunk with a few beers?" He mumbles, glancing angrily at Wire and Heat. They were supposed to take care of you, but now you're so drunk that you struggle to keep your eyes open and laugh stupidly at Kid. The way he looks annoyed is amusing. Or maybe it's just the alcohol running through your vein that makes everything funny. Your eyes are wet with alcohol and your cheeks are completely red. You’re in a good mood. The music is great and you're with your friends. Kid is just killing the fun, as always.

"Come on babe, just join us." You say, showing the place next to you. Kid growls, takes the tankard away from you, and grabs your chins, trying to cross your gaze. "Tomorrow, don't fucking cry because of your hangover, you did that to yourself. Now, we go back to the Victoria Punk, the party is over for you." You just giggle because he looks funny with that angry expression on his face. It's like seeing a tulip almost exploding. "I'm not kidding, y/n"

You pout with wet puppy eyes. Kid growls. "I won't change my mind", he snarls. Yes, maybe you look cute with that expression on your face, but nothing can change Kid's mind. He's way too stubborn and right now, he's mad at you. Even if you were with Heat and Wire, something could happen. And if someone hurt you, he would never forgive himself.

"Move your ass, y/n." You don't move and laugh heartily, the music pulsating inside your head. The guitar and beats are both excellent. Trying to follow the music's rhythm, you move your head, but you're too drunk and end up vomiting on the table and the floor. Kid reacts quickly by grabbing your hair and taking it away from your face. He's muttering curses under his breath. "Goddamn!" He hands you a napkin he just stole to Heat and wipes your mouth. Afterwards, he offers you a glass of iced water. "Drink." You are too dizzy to think anymore, so you accept his help and swallow all the cold water, sighing of relief. "Can you stand up?" Kid asks, throwing the dirty napkin on Heat's face. It's his punishment for letting you drink too much.

You try to stand up and fail miserably, but before your body hits the ground, Kid's strong arms are around your waist. Even though he's mumbling and growling, he still looks sweet right now. You nuzzle your head against his bare chest, he growls, cheeks as red as his hair, but he lets you use his chest as a pillow and carry you outside the bar. His heart beats quickly against your head, and you can feel it. That sound is something you love, it's like a lullaby. Often, you're worried for your dear captain, he's way too cocky and one day, it might cost him his life. You are terrified by that thought.

Outside, the air is cold and fresh. You inhale the night air deeply. Yes. Better than a mixture of sweat and alcohol. "You're not cold?" Kid is an hot-headed, and even his body is always warm and hot. So you shake your head. "I feel sick," you complain. "Don't you dare vomiting on me or I throw you to the sea." He's so unserious you can only laugh. Playfully, you start to kiss his neck, pinching his nipple, before fondling his chest. "Honk honk" You giggle and press his toned muscles repeatedly. "What the hell, you're a fucking child…" He just sighs, too tired to fight back and honestly a bit flustered. You look absolutely idiotic and yet, you're so adorable, laughing heartily while playing with his chest.

Once you finally reach the Victoria Punk, Kid just stomps through the ship and gets to your shared bedroom, throwing you on the bed. You whine, half asleep and half sick. The headache is starting to reverberate in your head and your world is completely blurred. Yes, maybe you drank too much tonight. "Get changed," he commands before leaving the room. You can hear him mumbling something like, 'How the fuck am I supposed to deal with someone who's drunk, that's Killer responsability"

You laugh. He's trying his hardest.

You try to untie your shoes but end up failing miserably on the ground. So when Kid comes back with some water and pills, he honestly wants to facepalm. You look like a stranded seal. First, he drops off his stuff on the nightstand and then sits you at the edge of the bed. "You're better off forgetting everything about tomorrow," he growls before kneeling down and removing your shoes. Kid only kneels for one thing, that thing that makes you shiver and leaves you both exausted and satisfied. So, this situation is completely unexpected and you can't help but smile, intoxicated by all the alcohol you drank earlier. "Kid is kneeling in front of me, Heat and Killer will never believe me!"

He snarls 'Shut up,' completely embarrassed, before standing up. He unbuttons your shirt, takes off your pants, and leaves you with your underwear. His eyes can't help but take a look at your beautiful body. He just loves every single detail about you. Oh, he would love to run his callused hands on your skin, driving you to new heights. But right now, you're too drunk. If you vomit on his face while he's fucking you, it will remain in his mind forever. More important, you're wasted and your mind is too dizzy. He'll wait. So he just gives you the water and pills and watches closely until you swallow everything.

"Now, just sleep and stop annoying the hell out of me." He pulls the blanket over your nose and places his hand on your forehead. You grasp his wrist. "Stay with me."

Heavy sigh. "Of course I stay, dummy. I won't sleep on the ground just because you're feeling sick, that’s my bed too" Sleepy, drunk, dizzy, you struggle to keep your eyes open. Kid's lips touch your forehead, and you're unsure if you're dreaming or not. You heard a soft whisper of 'you're a fool but I love you, sleep well' Did he actually say that? Ain't no way, you must already dream.

And then.

blank

out.

When you wake up hours after, with the worst hangover you have ever had. You laboriously sit on the bed. Kid has already left the room. Maybe yesterday was just a dream created by your intoxicated mind. On the nightstand, there's a fresh glass of water with pills. You grab the mirror that Kid made for you, made of metal, for sure. Immediately, you notice the red lipstick that has been smeared on your forehead.

So, it wasn't a dream.

#one piece headcanons #eustass kid x reader #one piece x reader #eustass kid headcanons #eustass kid x y/n #eustass kid x you #eustass kid #one piece requests #one piece x you #eustass captain kidd #kidd x reader #eustass kidd x reader #eustass kid imagine #eustasscaptainkid #eustass x reader #one piece x y/n

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janeyseymour · 7 months

Text

Dancing On My Own (Tiesto Remix)- pt 2

After some pushback from the first, I knew I had to write a second part, and quick. this should placate most of you.

Summary: the aftermath.

Part 1.

WC: 2.25k

tags: @lakita-fisher @weeeeeeeeee3 @lilsmeaux @@morgana-larkin

You somehow make it home unscathed- you could barely see as you drove through your tears, your breakup playlist on full blast. You guess you’re officially done. With Melissa already having a new woman, you wonder just how much you ever even meant to her.

As soon as you’re pulling into your spot, the waterworks hit in full- as if they weren’t already. You rip off the jersey and hat that you wore out, not caring where they land as you throw them into your front room. You had bought a bottle of wine to share with the redhead that you fell madly in love with to celebrate getting back together, and hopefully a big win, but now that seems wrong to drink on your own. You reach for the vodka instead.

You don’t show to school the next day, calling out claiming that you’re sick. And you are. Your heart hurts more than you ever thought possible, and your hangover is killer. You spend the morning laying in bed, eyes rimmed red. The redness won’t be going away any time soon.

Melissa saunters into the school, happy that she hasn’t seen your car in the parking lot, and doing a little dance because her team won. She’s also quite happy that she was able to rebound with last night- even if she didn’t particularly enjoy the woman that she spent her time with. She much rather would’ve spent time with you, but… you were… are a Cowboys fan.

“Someone’s happy,” Barbara chuckles. She thinks she knows why. “Did you have a good night at the game?”

“I did!” Melissa grins. “I took this girl I met at the bar, and-”

The kindergarten teacher’s face drops. “What?”

“I wasn’t going to let the ticket I had for Y/N go to waste,” the redhead shrugs. “So I asked Lena if she wanted to go with me to heckle the Cowgirls fans.”

“Oh no,” Barbara whispers. “Oh, no. no. no.”

“What? I figured after Y/N and I, I should get myself back out there.”

“No,” Barbara states again with fire. “Oh good god.”

“What?! What, Barb?”

“I- I have to go make a call,” the kindergarten teacher grabs her coffee mug and heads out quickly. She closes her classroom door as she dials your number.

Your phone starts ringing far too loudly, and you groan. You glance at it and see Barbara’s contact picture light up.

“Hello?” you groan into the phone, just barely sitting up. Your voice is rough, both from the tears and the fact that you haven’t spoken since last night.

“Sweetheart,” your coworker whispers to you. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Home,” you grumble. “Sick.”

The kindergarten teacher frowns. “Sick? Lovesick?”

“Heartbroken,” you whisper, voice cracking slightly. “She was there with someone else. You knew, didn’t you?”

“Y/N, dear,” Barb sighs quietly. “If I had known that she was talking to someone else, I never would’ve told you to go for it. In fact, when she came in dancing today I thought it was because the two of you got back together.”

“Nope,” you pop the ‘p’. “She had her tongue down someone else’s throat.”

“Honey, I am so sorry,” the woman tells you softly.

“I’m not mad at you,” you tell her genuinely. “You didn’t do anything wrong but try to help me.”

“Can I do anything else for you?” Barbara asks.

You sigh. “Just… when I come back to work tomorrow, pretend I was sick? I don’t feel like having Janine jump down my throat.”

“I can do that,” the kindergarten teacher says softly. “And please know that even though the two of you aren’t involved anymore, we are all still on your side. You’re still a part of our-”

“It’s okay,” you sigh sadly. “I know that you’re all Melissa’s friends, and I don’t want to put any of you in an awkward position having to pick sides. She’s been here longer; it’s all hers.”

“Sweetheart,” Barbara breathes.

“It’s okay. I’ll be okay, Barb. Thank you for trying to help me,” you mumble before hanging up.

By the time you hang up with her, the students will begin trickling in, so Barbara doesn’t have time to go speak with Melissa about the situation at hand.

But at lunch, Barbara simply grabs her lunch and picks up the redhead’s that is already out on the table.

“Barb,” Melissa gasps.

“My room. Now,” is all the kindergarten teacher has to say to get her friend to follow her out of the staff room and down the hall, head hung like a child being escorted to the principal’s office.

When they get there, Barbara sets down their lunches at her desk and pulls a chair up for Melissa.

“Barb, c’mon,” your… ex-girlfriend groans. “What gives?”

“What the hell were you doing out with another woman?”

The second grade teacher immediately gets defensive. “Y/N and I-”

“Y/N went to the game last night… dressed in Eagles gear and ready to cheer for your team because she loves you,” the older teacher says sternly. “And you threw it in her face that you were done with her and already moved on.”

“She- what?”

“She spent close to a thousand dollars on sports gear last week to try to win you back. She wore Phillies gear, she wore Flyers apparel, she wore a Sixers sweatshirt, she even wore a jersey from the Union, and on Friday, she wore Kelly green to show you that she’s in Philly now.”

“Didn’t show up in a Hurts or Kelce jersey though,” Melissa rolls her eyes.

“Because she was saving that for last night when she was going to win you back with the ticket that she managed to get next to you!”

Melissa’s face drops. “She- fuck.”

“She’s not sick. She’s heartbroken right now.”

The redhead bites her lip. “I fucked up takin’ Lena, didn’t I?”

Barbara nods. “She was crying when I called, and she told me she was heartbroken to see you with some other girl’s tongue down your throat.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” the kindergarten teacher nods. “That word.”

Melissa breathes out heavily. “Do you…” she shakes her head. “She’s still a Cowboys fan.”

“Melissa Ann, you love her. She loves you. She’s perfect aside from that one fact, and when she tried explaining herself to you at school, you wouldn’t let her get a word out. Hear her out, and even then… if she does love the Cowboys, are you really going to let something as trivial as a sports team rivalry come between you and the one person that you love?”

“I…” the redhead bites her lip. “Do you think I have a chance at winning her back?”

At that, the kindergarten teacher shrugs. “You’ll never know if you don’t try… although, I would end things with this new woman you were making out with last night.”

The end of the day could not come sooner for the second grade teacher. She’s debated texting you or calling you, but she feels this is something that she has to do in person.

So as soon as she’s finished for the day, she runs out. She leaves her lunch bag in the staff room, doesn’t wait for her work wife; she just books it. She’s tearing out of the school parking lot in the direction of your apartment complex.

The entire drive over, she’s preparing what she’s going to say to you, but once she’s standing on the door mat that you have sitting outside your front door, it all leaves her brain. She knocks a few times before stepping back.

Who the hell is at your door? Could it be Barbara checking on you? Or maybe she said something to Janine or Jacob, and they’re here to make sure that you’re okay? With a groan, you sit up and stand from the couch. You’ve been sitting there for so long wallowing in your self pity that you leave an indent in the cushions. You check the peephole, and… why is Melissa standing at your door?

You open the door, not caring how you look right now.

The sight of you hurts her heart. Your hair is messily tied up, you haven’t changed out of your pajamas, your eyes are still rimmed red… you just look so heartbroken right now.

“What? Come to yell at me some more?” you try sound angry, but it just comes out pathetic.

“No,” she says softly. “Hun, I’m-”

“Here to break up with me?” you sigh. “You made it pretty clear we were done.”

“Can I come in?” she asks quietly. The woman sounds so unlike herself.

You shrug and leave the door open as you walk away. She follows you in. “I’m here to say I’m sorry.”

“It’s whatever,” you sigh as you curl back into your mountain of blankets. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be civil the rest of the school year, I’ll leave you and your friends alone, and then I’ll find another school in the area to work at.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Well, it’s a little hard to work with your ex-girlfriend,” you sigh. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind seeing yourself out.”

“Y/N,” Melissa says so softly, and she has her eyes trained on you. They’re filled with sadness. “I don’t want to break up.”

“I thought we already did,” you spit out. “And if we didn’t, I know you had your tongue down another woman’s throat last night anyway, so if you don’t break up with me, I’ll do it for you. Then you can make me the bad guy when you-”

“Barb told me what you were trying to do,” the redhead admits softly.

“If you would’ve just listened to me, you would know that I didn’t necessarily have a choice in who I rooted for when it came to football. My father, who is my idol and best friend so don’t you dare say a single bad thing about him, loves the Cowboys. He insisted on buying me the Prescott jersey despite the fact that I didn’t want him spending that money on me to begin with.”

“I should’ve known with you growing up near Dallas,” she sighs.

“But I’m here now,” you continue. “And once I talked to him and he told me that if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. So I did. I bought all of this Philly stuff, bought a ticket to the game and showed up in a hat and Hurts jersey, only to see you with someone else. So… it’ doesn’t matter.”

“Hun, I never wanted her.”

“Well, you got her.”

“The whole time, I was wishing it was you.”

You rub your temples.

“Barb told me she helped you,” the second grade teacher admits. “If I had known… I would’ve been-”

“Any time they brought me up, you shut them down,” you fire out. “You wouldn’t let me speak to you at all.”

“You avoided me too!”

“I was trying to give you space, and when I did try to talk to you, you shut me down and told me you weren’t going to date a Cowgirl.”

“How can I fix this?” Melissa asks as she comes to sit down next to you. “I’ll do- I’ll do anything.”

“I thought you weren’t going to date a Cowgirl,” you taunt her. “And you have your new girl now.”

“She isn’t my girl,” the redhead tells you sternly. “You’re my girl. She’s some random girl I picked up at a bar while I was trying to distract myself from missing you. The whole time I was with her, I wished it was you- I didn’t even sleep with her. She was throwing herself at me, but I couldn’t.”

“So what are you saying?”

“And then today when you didn’t show up to school, Barbara told me what you did and how she helped you… she talked some sense into me; asked me if I was really going to let a stupid sports rivalry get in the way of loving the one person I truly adore. The answer is no. I was… an idiot. An absolute idiot.”

“Yeah,” you snort. “You were.”

“So… I’m here, begging you to take me back. Please, Y/N,” Melissa tears up. “Please. Please don’t walk away.”

“Melissa, you hurt me more than you know,” you whisper.

“And I will spend the rest of my days making it up to you,” she promises you. “Please.”

You take a deep breath for huffing it out. Secretly, you were hoping she would come back to you. And the opportunity is right here in front of you. “It’s… it’s going to take a bit for me to fully forgive you.”

“And I understand that entirely. I was a real jackass. I’ll make it up to you however I can.” She pulls you into her arms and kisses your temple gently. “However I can.”

That ‘however’ is by having her take you to another Eagles game- with the entire Abbott crew. You wear your Hurts jersey, hanging off of her the entire night, and you cheer for your new team.

The other ‘however’ is by getting her to take you to a Phillies RedOctober game at Lincoln Financial field. When they play their celebratory song after clinching a spot in the World Series as NLC champions, you know that you’re no longer dancing on your own (tiesto remix). You have Melissa by your side.

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary

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percyluvr · 7 months

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hiii !! could you please do percy x apollo reader where she's like this super sunny girl and everyone thought that her and her ex were perfect together but her ex ends up breaking up with her after losing interest. and maybe the breakup kind of splits everyone into sides because it was healthy but also heartbreaking (and percy, without even knowing, is somehow is her #1 advocate to everyone even if they don't know each other / barely ever talked before) and everyone watches as she slowly loses her spark and stops showing up for things, stays in bed all day, stuff like that and percy suddenly feels her absence and has enough of it and helps her pick up the pieces of her heart. he doesn't really pressure her to date or anything he just tries to be there for her by brightening her mood and teasing her and stuff and eventually he helps her move on from her ex. and like maybe a couple months pass of them being friends but also lowkey more than that and she confesses to him after annabeth or her friend makes her realize that she actually like LIKES percy when she loses it in a mad or a sad way at the sight of him with another girl (and she usually has her emotions in control) but yeah thats basically it !! thank u for reading this :)) hope ur having a good dayy

percy jackson x daughter of apollo!reader summary: your boyfriend breaks up with you and percy becomes your #1 defender, falling in love with you in the process wc: 4286

You, along with pretty much everyone else at camp, thought that your relationship was perfect. Being with your boyfriend was like a fairytale to you, but apparently it wasn't for him.

"Hey, so um, thanks for meeting me. I hope this isn't too random, but I just don't think our relationship is working anymore, and I think you feel it too," he says, looking into your eyes. If you weren't so in love with him, you probably would've smacked the crap out of him for this. You'd never been happier in your relationship, and he thought it wasn't working? You weren't quite sure if you were mad or sad in this moment.

"Oh. If that's what you think, then I agree," you reply, sadly smiling at him, trying to pretend that your heart wasn't breaking into a million little pieces.

"Alright, I still really like you and I hope we can be friends still," he says, and you know that he's saying it without malicious intent because he really is a good guy, which makes you even more frustrated.

"Sure, of course we can."

He gives you a hug and tells you to have a good day.

How are you supposed to have a good day when you just got dumped by the love of your life? You genuinely wished you could be mad at him, but he was just such a genuine and nice guy that you couldn't. You know that he only said it out of the good of his heart and because he didn't want the relationship to actually go downhill, but you were still frustrated and sad.

As if your day wasn't bad enough already, news of your breakup had already spread throughout camp, and everyone was looking at you with sympathetic looks. You had hoped to the gods that you could go at least a day before this happened, but of course not.

You got your food and sat down at your table, your siblings immediately crowding around you and asking you questions and trying to comfort you. You could hear people at the other tables talking about the breakup, and from what you could hear, people were taking "sides" in your breakup, even when they thought it was mutual.

"Hey, I heard about what happened. I'm so sorry, but we're all here for you, okay?" You hear one of your sisters say, but it doesn't really register. At this point, you feel numb, and you aren't really hearing anything people are saying anymore.

Later that day, you're sitting by the river, small sniffles being all you can manage to muster up after crying your heart out for the last 45 minutes. You're looking out at the water, thinking about what went wrong, when you hear footsteps approaching.

"Are you okay?" You hear an unfamiliar voice ask.

You don't even bother looking up. It's probably just another person here to tell you how they're on your side.

"No, but it's fine," you reply.

The person sits down next to you, and you finally look over, finding Percy Jackson sitting to your right.

He looks back at you, "hey, I'm Percy. Sorry if I'm interrupting, but I was just coming over to swim and I heard you crying."

"No, it's fine. I don't own the beach," you weakly laugh. "My boyfriend broke up with me today, if you're wondering why I'm crying."

"Yeah, I heard about that. I'm really sorry that happened to you, you seem really sweet."

"Thanks, but it's okay. He wasn't rude about it or anything, just said that he didn't think our relationship was working and that he hoped he could still be friends," you muttered.

He makes a sympathetic sound then says, "that's almost worse. I'd hate to be on the receiving end of that, especially if the person is genuine."

"Yeah, it really broke my heart. He was so genuine about it, and that's what really hurt. He still cares about me but he just doesn't love me anymore," your voice cracks in the middle of your sentence, and you look back at the water.

"Jeez, that seriously sucks. But hey, I'm sure it's not you that was the problem, maybe what he wanted in a relationship just changed?" It sounded like he was going to say more, but you made a sob-like sound and he immediately shut his mouth.

"I'm sorry, I'm really not good at this," he says awkwardly after a moment of silence.

"It's okay. If it helps, I do feel a bit better at least. You're not as bad as you think you are," you look over at him and he's already looking at you.

The two of you talk a bit more, before you excuse yourself to your cabin, not telling him why, but he suspected that you were going to cry more, and it made him sad to see you like this.

The two of you weren't friends, you were barely even acquaintances, but Percy now felt responsible for defending you. Every time he overheard a conversation where people were taking your ex-boyfriend's side, he would walk over there and set them straight, telling them how great you were and how the breakup wasn't your fault at all, and he should've been grateful to have you, even though the breakup wasn't messy at all.

People started to joke that he was the leader of your fan club, which secretly made him feel all weird inside. At the time he didn't know what he was feeling, but when he looked back at it, he knew that this was when he started to fall in love with you.

If, even a month ago, someone would've told Percy that the girl he'd always had a tiny crush on would've been single, and he was now openly defending you like his life depended on it, he would've first told them there's no way you did anything wrong, so what was he even defending you from? And second, he absolutely does not have a crush on you. Lastly, he would ask if you were really single, but not that he was asking for himself, he was definitely asking for a friend.

"Dude, you need to calm down defending her. She's not gonna let you hit just because you're taking her side," some camper makes the mistake of saying to his face.

"What the hell is your problem? Not everyone is trying to get a girl to 'let him hit.' Some of us are just decent human beings defending our friends," Percy says, before promptly soaking the guy in water and walking away.

This incident was just one of many where a camper makes the mistake of talking bad about you. At this point, he was one of the two people at camp that didn't know he was falling for you. You were the other, obviously, because how could you know someone else was in love with you when you were busy wallowing in your sorrows in your cabin?

About a week after you were broken up with, you began to distance yourself from all of the activities at camp, including the ones that once brought you so much joy. You'd never thought of yourself to be someone that would drown in their own sorrows, but then again, you'd never really experienced anything that would've proved yourself otherwise.

So, here you were, cuddled up in bed under about 5 blankets, mascara stains under your eyes, a box of tissues next to you, and another romcom on the TV, when you could've been outside doing archery or in the infirmary gossiping with your siblings like you would've done before the breakup. Your heart was aching so badly that you could barely even wake up in the morning. After your talk with Percy, you thought that it was easing up, even though that was only hours after the breakup actually happened, but you couldn't have been more wrong.

After a few days of this behavior from you, Percy was sick of it. He was sick of not being able to see you, and he was sick of you being sad. He went to the Stoll brothers and asked them to smuggle some ice cream in for him, as well as a stuffed animal and paid them extra to do it as fast as they could.

Every few hours, your siblings and friends would come into the cabin and check up on you, sometimes staying to watch a movie or two with you before leaving again and telling you to come get them if you needed anything. You heard the door to the cabin open again. Thinking it was just another one of your siblings, you ignored it and continued watching your movie. What you didn't expect was for Percy Jackson to be standing in front of you mere seconds later.

"Hey, I'm sorry it took me so long to stop by. I brought some ice cream, I don't know if it'll help or if you even like this flavor, but I thought it might help," he says, an awkward smile on his face, awaiting a response.

"Oh, well, thank you," you say, wiping your face, now slightly embarrassed about the mascara that was staining it.

"Hey, don't worry about the mascara, I get it. Well, I don't get it get it, but y'know what I mean, right?"

You let out a small laugh. "Yes, Percy, I get what you mean."

"Oh! I also brought this teddy-bear. It's the sunshine care bear, 'cause you're an Apollo kid," he smiles.

"Aww, thank you so much, Percy. It means a lot to me. Do you want to stay and watch movies with me?" You ask, desperately hoping he'll say yes.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. I'd love to," he replies.

You scoot over in the bed, patting the spot next to you, signaling Percy to sit down, and he obliges.

"So, what are we watching?" He asks.

"Well, I'm starting to run out of romcoms, so I've started to rewatch some. We're about to watch 10 Things I Hate About You," you say with a smile.

"What's it about?"

You explain the plot, and he listens with genuine interest.

This situation happens a few more times, before he finally asks you if you're ready to come back to camp activities. He doesn't add that he misses you when he's out there, but he desperately wants to. He refrains from any flirting because he doesn't want to pressure you, but it kills him to not be able to tell you how much he already likes you, even after just a few days of hanging out with you.

You tell him yes, and you'll be back to doing your activities tomorrow, to which he's overjoyed. He's never been happier in his life, and the two of you aren't even dating. Even when you are ready to date, if you still don't like him, he realizes that he would be happy just to be your friend.

When you're back to your regular responsibilities at camp, you realize just how much you've missed it. It takes a bit before you get back into the ropes of archery, but one wouldn't say you were bad. As an Apollo kid, you could never really be bad at archery, which you appreciated. Once you'd gotten the hang of it again, you realized how much you missed it. Archery had always been relaxing to you, not just because you were a daughter of Apollo. Even before you'd come to camp, your mother had you in archery lessons, and you'd enjoyed it even then. You were fully concentrating until you heard a familiar voice calling to you.

"Hey, I'm glad you're back out here. It's so good to have you back," Percy says, pulling you into a hug, the very first hug the two of you had ever shared. It was surprising at first, but you quickly melted into it.

"Yeah, I'm so glad to be back out here. I missed it so much. I owe you so much for getting me out of that bed, I was miserable."

He blushes. "Nah, it's fine. I knew you would feel better being out here, you love it too much to stay holed up in there, even if those romcoms were good," he jokes.

"Right? I knew you liked them," you say with a smile. "But yeah, you're right. I love being out here with everyone, and I love archery too much to give it up to cry over a boy."

He solemnly nods. "Yeah, I just can't tell you enough how good it is to see you out here. You look so much better, y'know? Your skin is like, glowing again."

You smile. "Thank you," you're about to say more when you hear a voice, specifically a voice belonging to the last person you wanted to see right now.

"Hey! It's good to see you out here," your ex-boyfriend says casually, as if he didn't rip your heart in two and cause you to become a hermit for 2 weeks straight. Percy gives him the nastiest look you've ever seen in your life, and try your best to contain your laughter, but you end up letting out a weird choked sound which earns you a smile from Percy and a weird look from your ex-boyfriend.

"Sorry, swallowed wrong," you say to him.

"Oh, alright?" He says confusedly, before trying to give you a hug, to which you not-so-accidentally swerve. He raises his eyebrow and you shrug.

"Uh, anyways. Yeah, good to see you too," you say before walking away with Percy, leaving your ex-boyfriend standing there confused. You didn't mean to be so rude, but you really couldn't stand being in the same vicinity as him right now.

The next day, you're in the infirmary, gossiping and laughing with one of your sisters, when Percy walks in, clutching his arm. You immediately get up, speed-walking over to where Percy is now standing.

"Hey, what happened?" You asked him, ushering him over to one of the beds.

"Was just doing some practice sword-fighting with your ex-boyfriend and he stabbed me right in the arm. I would've just gone to the ocean and healed it with the water, but I wasn't sure if it would heal this," he says before moving his hand from the deep gash on his bicep.

"Oh sweet Apollo, that was not an accidental stab. Sit here, put your hand back over it, I'll be back in a second," you say before rushing off to collect some supplies.

When you come back, you see Percy sitting with his eyebrows furrowed, muttering some unsavory things under his breath.

"Here, give me your arm," you request, to which he obliges.

You gently wrap his arm with gauze, noticing how intimate your position was and feeling awkward. You didn't want to mention it, not knowing if Percy felt the tension too. You tried to finish up as quickly as possible, hoping the awkward atmosphere would vanish. Unfortunately, it did not. When you finished, you noticed that Percy was staring at you with a weird look in his eyes.

"Um, I'm done, if it still hurts, I can get you some painkillers," you say, scratching the back of your head awkwardly.

Apparently, this breaks him out of his strange trance, and he nods.

"Yeah, uh, painkillers would be good," he replies, still in a slightly dazed state.

You rush out of the room as quick as you can, trying to avoid his gaze. When you were browsing the painkillers trying to find the best for his situation, you kept replaying the scene in your mind. You were trying not to be delusional, but you swore that when you caught Percy staring at you, he started to blush. You pushed it out of your thoughts and brought the medicine to him.

"Take two to four of these every six hours, and the pain should be gone in about two to three days," you said, handing him the container.

He nodded. "Okay, thank you. Maybe you can prescribe some pills to calm your ex down or something," he joked.

You laughed softly. "I wish we had any that would help. Just try to stay away from him. The breakup was his idea so I really don't get what his problem is," you say.

Percy shrugs, and the conversation ends.

Over the next few weeks, you see Percy in the infirmary more than you've seen him there in the past 4 years combined, which is odd, but you don't really think much of it. The injuries are all very small, and he could definitely heal most, if not all with water, but you don't comment on this, as you've really been enjoying having Percy's company during the day.

A few months pass on, and it's another slow day at the infirmary. You're talking with your sister and drinking lemonade, when something outside catches her attention.

"Hey, do you mind if I leave for today? I saw my man walk past just now. I'm thinking today is the day I confess!" Your sister tells you.

"Yeah, sure. I doubt anyone else will come in today anyway. Go get him, girl!" You encourage.

She basically runs out of the infirmary, making you laugh.

A few minutes later, Percy is back. You weren't expecting him back today, as he'd already been here this morning, but he was always welcome.

"Hey, Percy. What happened now?" You ask.

"Oh, I'm fine. A bunch of other people are going to the beach later, and I was just wondering if you were going to be there," he says shyly.

"Hm, I guess it really wouldn't hurt. When did they say they'd be there?"

"Uh, they said they were planning to go in around 30 minutes, I think," he replies.

"I mean, there's no one else scheduled to be at the infirmary today, but it's pretty slow today, so I guess it'd be fine," you conclude.

"Alright, awesome, cool. I'll see you there then," he said before rushing out. You looked out the window and the sight of him jumping up and down and cheering made you laugh harder than you'd laughed in a long time. He looked back through the window and saw you already looking at him. He gave you a pained look and ran off.

"Wow, I sure choose normal people to be friends with," you mutter to yourself before writing a note and putting it on the infirmary door saying that it'd be empty for the rest of the day. You went to your cabin and began changing into your swimsuit. You put a pair of jean shorts and a yellow tank top on over your swimsuit and grabbed a towel.

You talked to your siblings that were in the cabin for a bit before heading down to the beach. You spotted Percy sitting on his towel, looking at everyone else that was swimming. You put your towel down next to his and sat down.

"Hey waterboy, whatcha lookin' at?" You asked.

"Nothing really, was just waiting for you so we can swim," he says, smiling over at you.

"Alright, let's go then," you say, taking off your shorts and tank top as Percy watches, not noticing how intensely he was staring until you cleared your throat.

"Are you going to just sit there and stare at me, or are you gonna come with me to the water?" You teased, causing him to blush a deep red.

He immediately takes off his shirt, revealing his toned abdomen, which you should've expected, he was a swimmer after all. You were in awe, but he spoke up, "now look who's staring."

He grins at you before grabbing your hand and running to the water. Your shorter legs had a hard time keeping up with him, but you somehow managed.

The two of you splashed and swam until the water began to get cold. You both raced back to the towels, bundling up and sitting on the beach.

"Hey, we're going to have a bonfire, if you guys want to come," Connor Stoll says to you and Percy.

"Yeah, sounds cool," Percy replies for the both of you.

"Alright man, awesome. We're going now, so."

You and Percy grab your stuff and follow Connor to the campfire.

As the sun sets, you're all chatting and roasting marshmallows.

"Hey, Perce. Thanks for inviting me, and thank you for helping me get over my break up. We weren't even really friends before and you still helped me. I don't know what I would've done without you," you confess.

"Yeah, yeah. It's no problem. I mean, you're really sweet, and I'm glad to call you my friend now, too."

You smile, and spend the rest of the night quietly talking to Percy, which catches Annabeth's eye.

The next day, you hear a knock on your cabin door. You open the door to probably the last person you would expect to be there, Annabeth Chase.

"Hey, what's up? Who're you here for?" You ask.

"You," she says, causing your eyebrow to raise.

"It's nothing bad, at least, not for me."

"Uh, okay," you say, stepping out of your cabin and closing the door behind you.

Annabeth sits down on the steps, and you follow.

"So, I noticed you and Percy last night at the bonfire," she says with a small smirk on her face.

She must've seen the confused look that flashed across your face, because she laughs. "You two were all over each other, I swear. You two are so in love it makes me sick. There's no way neither of you have noticed this. I'm not even going to bother bringing it up to Percy because he has seaweed for brains, I swear. But you're smart, so I'm saying this to you. You two like each other, and it's physically paining everyone else at camp to see you two pining over each other like idiots. Please, for the love of the Gods, tell him how you feel, because I guarantee he feels exactly the same. That's all."

If there was any time to take a bow, it would've been after that speech, you think.

"Well, after that I guess I have no other choice," you joke.

This seems to satisfy her, because she gets up and pats you on the shoulder before walking away and wishing you luck.

Later that day, you decide that you're going to tell Percy how you feel, consequences be damned. I mean, if Annabeth Chase is telling you to do something, you better do it.

That night, you're standing in front of the Poseidon Cabin, mustering up all your courage to go inside and confess your feelings to Percy. You open the door, and all your confidence that you had conjured up fizzles right out when you see Percy sat on the floor talking to some girl that you didn't know the name of. His eyes catch yours, and you feel the tears forming. You turn around and run out as fast as you can, not caring how crazy you look running through the camp and crying. When you finally reach the beach, you sit down. You didn't expect Percy to follow you, so when you heard footsteps and heavy breathing, you jump up and scream.

"Hey, woah, you're very fast," Percy says in between heavy breaths.

"What do you want?" You ask, tearing streaming down your face.

"Wait, what's wrong?" He asks, clueless.

The question only makes you cry harder.

"Hey, c'mon, don't leave me in the dark, we're friends, right?"

"Yeah, and I guess that's all we'll ever be," you snap.

"What are you talking about?"

"Percy, please," you say, exasperated.

"I don't know what you're talking about, okay. Please just explain."

"Okay, fine," you say, trying to control your crying. "I was going into your cabin to tell you that I like you. No, I don't just like you, I love you, Percy. That's what I was going to tell you. But then I saw you in there with that girl, and it upset me, but at least now I know you don't like me back, so that's awesome."

"Hey, hey, slow down now. Who ever said that I don't like you back?"

"What?"

"You just said that I don't like you back, but I never said that, okay?"

"But what about that girl?" You ask.

"She's from the Aphrodite Cabin, she was helping me figure out how to tell you that I like you. No, I love you," he says your name, and you feel the blood rush to your cheeks.

"Oh," you say, now feeling extremely stupid.

"Yeah."

"Well, um. I'm sorry for freaking out on you," you manage to squeak out.

"Hey, it's fine, okay? I probably would've done the same thing if I was you, don't worry about it," he says, grabbing your hand in between his two larger ones.

"So, um, what now?" You ask.

"Well, we could always kiss," he jokes, not expecting you to actually say yes.

When he feels your full lips on his, he feels like crying, and he thinks he actually does, if the salty taste in his mouth is any sign.

You kiss for what feels like hours, breaking apart for air.

"So, uh, what would you rate that kiss out of 10?" He jokingly asks, breaking the silence.

"Um, probably a 9. But I could rate more accurately if I got to experience it again," you say, and he immediately takes you up on this, crashing your lips together in a somehow more passionate kiss than before.

a/n: okay so i DEFINITELY went crazy with this, but it was just such a good request so thank you saur much and i hope you like this !! i tried to follow it as closely as possible but i got kinda carried away on some parts,, this is also the longest fic i've ever written on this app so do with that what u will

#pjo #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #pjo series #pjo x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson fic #pjo x you #percy jackson imagine #book percy jackson #i need him biblically #i need him in a way that is concerning to feminism #hes so pretty #please please please #there is nothing i wouldnt give to be with him

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24hlevi · 11 months

Text

— lonely star

cate dunlap (gen v) x gn!reader

genre: hurt/comfort

summary: cate has always been hesitant to trust others, and you're the first person who wasn't afraid of her. but, can this lonely star be able to genuinely trust you?

warnings: language

wc: 2.4 k

yeah im a cate apologist so what?

from the first meeting, you knew what kind of person cate dunlap was. troubled? maybe. traumatized? so was everyone at the school. lonely? definitely. you were the first person to genuinely trust cate without any fear of her powers. at first, she was lost as to how anyone, especially you, would be accepting of who she was.

cate dunlap was a lonely star in the world. thankfully, you showed up to make it better.

“do you ever take those off?” you asked her once, gesturing to the gloves on her hands.

“no,” cate shook her head. “they never come off.”

you tilted your head to the side lightly, watching cate look down at her hands almost with shame in her eyes. you rose from your spot on the chair in the room, walking to sit down next to her with no words spoken. the blonde girl stared with those beautiful eyes you always adored, looking at you confused.

“would you take them off for me?” you asked quietly.

“what?” cate said just as quietly. “i don't think that's a good idea.” she said, nervousness evident in her eyes as she shook her head.

“i trust you, cate,” you told her.

now she looked at you with indecisiveness in her eyes, as if she was debating whether or not to do it. hesitantly, she slowly took off the gloves, immediately balling them into fists as she waited to see what you would do. she didn't know what to expect, but she definitely didn't expect you to carefully grab her hand as if she was made of glass and would break at the slightest touch, the warmth of your hand touching her own made her feel things. things she couldn't explain off the top of her head. it was a nice feeling, one she hadn't felt in a long time.

then, you raised her hand to your lips and placed a gentle kiss on it. when you looked at her again, she had tears in her eyes. holding her hand in yours, your unoccupied hand gently touched her cheek, looking back at her with genuine care and love in your eyes.

“i don't want you to be afraid anymore, cate. at least, around me. i trust you, okay? i know you wouldn't hurt me on purpose. just, please don't be afraid around me. because if no one else is, then i’ll be the one person who genuinely believes that you won't hurt me,” you told her in a soft voice.

a few stray tears fell from her eyes at your words, and she was at a loss. she couldn't respond with words, too emotional knowing she would completely break down if she tried. so, she leaned forward closer to you and pressed her lips onto yours. more tears falling when she felt you kiss back, her hands were shaking from so many different things. the fact that you willingly touched her hands without a single ounce of fear, the fact that you trusted her not to hurt you with all your heart, the fact that you were kissing her like she was any other normal kind of girl.

you grabbed ahold of both of her shaking hands, interlocking your fingers with hers and pulling away from the kiss. the two of you stared at each other for some time, until she hugged you so tightly you could barely breathe.

“thank you, for not being afraid of me,” she whispered into your neck.

from that day forward, you were the only person that cate trusted. sure, she might still wear the gloves when around others including you, but when you two were alone she never had them on. she was worried in the beginning that she might accidentally do something, but you reassured her that even if she did, you wouldn't be mad or upset about it. not everyone has full control of their powers. it was understandable. but, she still had her worries and doubts.

there would often be nights spent together in one of each other's dorm, quietly talking to one another and she would again voice her concerns.

“y/n,” cate whispered to you.

“mm? what is it?” you whispered back, looking down at her.

“why do you trust that i won't hurt you?” she asked.

“what?” you said, rolling over onto your side to see her better. “what do you mean?”

cate’s eyes averted downward to the bed when she responded. “i just…want to know why.”

reaching forward, you grabbed one of her hands, feeling her body immediately tense as you intertwined your fingers with hers. “i’ll be honest, i don't really know why. i just have a feeling you won't. i know it's not a very good answer, but it's the truth. you might have hurt people in the past, but i know you wouldn't do it on purpose to me,” you told her.

“i see,” she nodded slowly.

carefully, you wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer to you, the two of your faces merely inches away from touching. “i know you have worries about it, cate. but please, don't be scared of it. even if it happens, i won't be upset with you. okay? no one else gets you like i do,” you quietly spoke to her.

“okay,” she nodded again.

a small smile formed on your face and you gave her a quick kiss before pulling her even closer to you. cate rested her head on your chest, listening to your steady heartbeat and holding one of your hands, playing with your fingers a little bit. she then fell asleep shortly after, feeling safe with someone for the first time in a long while.

it was nights like those that cate always remembered. no one else even dared to touch her without the gloves on, and yet, you touched her like she was normal with and without them on. she didn't understand it. why you would be so believing that she wouldn't do it to you even by accident or some random instance. you didn't even have a valid answer as to why, which left the blonde more confused.

cate believed that everyone would hate her for her powers, and the majority did, except for you. you were the only one that didn't think she would hurt. she had her worries about how you would react if she did it to someone else, and you said as long as it was with good intentions, it would be okay with you. then she grew more confused. good intentions. were there ever any good intentions at the school? not really.

cate rarely worried about using her powers on someone other than you. she always made sure there was good enough reasons to back her up, even if it was close to being irredeemable. her explanations as to why she did it were good enough, so she just stuck with those.

slowly, cate let go of her fear of using her powers on you. it hadn't happened in the months you two had been together, so she stopped worrying.

until the day it happened.

cate was having a stressful day, beyond stressful, her day was going terrible and was seemingly only getting worse. she was irritated at everything and everyone, she wanted to just scream and make everything go away. then, you showed up at her dorm room.

after knocking a few times, you walked in the dorm to see cate sitting on her bed with her hands pulling at her hair. you quickly rushed up to her and looked down at her. “cate, baby what's wrong?”

she looked up at the sound of your voice, but the glare sent your way was enough for you to take a step backwards. “leave me alone right now,” she told you.

shaking your head, you sat down next to her. “i’m not leaving until you tell me what's wrong,” you replied. “i just want to help.”

“please y/n just go,” cate sighed, putting her face in her hands that weren't gloved.

“sorry but no,” you said, grabbing one of her hands which made her look at you again. “what's wrong?”

“it's nothing,” she shook her head, pulling her hand away from yours. she could see the way your eyes were saddened at her action, but she was too upset to care at the moment. “i just want to be alone right now.”

“cate,” you said softly. “please let me help.”

“i don't need your help,” she said more aggressively. “what i need is for you to go away.”

“no, i’m not going anywhere,” you told her, grabbing her hand again.

cate stared at you with an angry glare, glancing down at your hands connected with hers and placing her unoccupied one on top of yours. “leave me alone for today.” she told you in a low voice.

the second those words left her mouth, she had realized what she had done. from the moment you stood up without a word, cate tried calling your name to get you to turn around, but it was no use. she fucked up big time. she completely forgot what she was upset about when you closed the door behind you, leaving her alone just like she wanted.

immediately fear and worries flooded cate’s mind. how were you going to feel tomorrow when you were knocked out of it? would you never talk to her again? would you find her just to express your feelings and leave her alone again? she started to freak out. she didn't know what to do, so she just sat in her room and stared at the wall in silence. surely, you would be angry at the reason why she did it, and that she did it at all. she didn't know what she was thinking, she just wanted to be alone from everyone. but, she didn't want to push you away. yet, that's exactly what she did.

the next morning, cate awoke in her same spot she fell asleep in, sitting up on her bed leaving her with a strained neck. she looked around thinking you would be there next to her, only to remember yesterday's events. “oh fuck,” she mumbled to herself.

she quickly left her dorm and went asking everyone if they knew where you were. unfortunately, no one knew. so she was left scurrying through the whole school trying to find you. by the time she gave up and was heading back to her dorm, she found you standing in front of her door for the room.

“y/n!” cate exclaimed, running up to you.

when you turned to face her, she felt her heart drop at your expression. you had new bags under your eyes likely from staying up the night before, your hair was a mess, and you looked at her with a look she was terrified of.

“do you mind if we talk inside?” you asked, getting right to the point.

“that's fine,” cate nodded her head swiftly, opening the door and walking inside with you following behind.

you closed the door behind you and sat down next to her on the bed. she looked down at the ground, playing with the material of her gloves as she anxiously waited for you to speak.

“why did you do it?” you asked her, not even looking at her.

of course that would be the first question you asked. the question she knew you would ask after she realized what she did. cate continued looking at her hands as she answered. “i…just wanted to be left alone. i didn't mean to.”

“do you not want me around anymore?” was your next question.

that one she didn't expect. her head shot up as she looked at you, quickly shaking her head. “no, no no that's not what i want. i was just stressed and needed to be alone.”

you finally turned your head to look at her, and seeing the afraid expression on cate’s face made you release a sigh. “i’m not going to leave you, cate. don't be worried about that. but, i also want you to know that i’ll always be here for you. whenever you need it, i will be here. i don't want you to think that you have to be alone anymore. because you have me. so please, don't push me away. i…love you a lot,” you told her.

cate froze upon hearing the last words you spoke. love? she must have heard you wrong. there was no way someone like you could love someone like her. it didn't work like that. she could feel tears welling in her eyes as her vision became blurry, trying to blink the tears away. “you…love me?” she asked in a tiny voice.

“yes,” you nodded. “i love you more than anyone else, and that's the truth. you're the only one i can tolerate at this fucked up school. every day is like hell here, but, you make it better. even if you don't notice it. you make my life a lot better, cate. so yes, i do love you.” you grabbed her hands and wiped the few tears falling from her eyes.

a short sob escaped from cate’s lips, and you pulled her into your arms, letting her cry into your shoulder. her grip on you was so tight that you couldn't let go even if you wanted to, and for the first time she completely broke down. she thought that no one would love her. her own family didn't anymore, so why should anyone else? she was forced to be alone for so long that she had almost forgotten what it was like for someone to genuinely love her, even after all that she's done. she was starting to believe she didn't need it, the nice feeling of being loved by someone else. but, you came into her life and changed that.

“i love you too,” cate mumbled into your shoulder. “you're the only person i care about in this shitty place.”

“i know,” you nodded, gently kissing the top of her head with one of your hands rubbing her back. “but trust me when i say i won't be leaving anytime soon. i’ll die first before leaving you.”

“let's not manifest that,” cate said, lifting her head from your shoulder. “i don't need you dying on my watch.” she poked your cheek.

“i was kidding,” you chuckled, patting her head. “but i won't leave you, i promise.”

“you better not.”

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