#Radiohead How Can You Be Sure?

[iamtryingtobelieve]

When I'm like this How can you be smiling, singing? How can you be sure?

[weskergrl]

fake plastic treethan

i made this for the sillies i was so bored and the cover for this goes hard🙏

[imaginedisish]

All I Need (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: AHH! This took so, so long. Anyway, here is the period-comfort fic! Needed this. Loosely inspired by "All I Need" By Radiohead and "Let the Light In" by Lana and Father John Misty. Hope you guys enjoy! P.S. I'm so sorry if I forgot to tag you, or if the tags don't work.

Summary: Your period is awful this month, but Logan is there to take care of you...in more ways than one...

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!! SMUT!!! Fingering, PIV, period sex, soft!Logan, praise kink (if you squint), friends to lovers, softdom!Logan (if you squint again), mentions of blood (bc period), so much fluff, feelings, cursing, afab!reader/fem!reader, definitely some grammatical errors bc I struggled through proofreading...and I think that's it!

Word Count: 4,474 it was supposed to be short

You’re no stranger to pain. You’ve been in countless battles and fought more fights than you can remember. And yet, nothing makes you feel as obliterated as your period does. 

Your cramps have always been terrible, but this time they were particularly bad. You sit in your bed, on a Saturday night, alone, struggling. You couldn’t find the heating pad. You couldn’t find the ice cream you wanted. You couldn’t find anything to watch. And, of course, everything hurts—your breasts are beyond sore, and your head is aching. You look up at the ceiling, wanting nothing more than for your period to be over. 

Your lower abdomen pulses with pain and you groan audibly, not caring how loud you are as you turn over onto your stomach in frustration. 

But then there’s a knock at your door.  

“Hey, everything okay in there?” It’s Logan—of course it’s him. “Didn’t mean to be nosy. Just happened to hear you.”

“I’m okay!” You call out, rolling back onto your side to face the door. 

“Are you sure?” Logan asks. You can hear his hand on the knob. “Can I come in?”

Heat suddenly rises to your chest. Logan? Coming in here? Now? In reality, this shouldn’t be a big deal. Logan has been in your room before—albeit very briefly and in passing—but you can’t help but feel nervous. You’re always nervous around him. You’ve been harboring a crush on him for months now, and it’s brutal. You’ve grown closer, but not quite close enough. At least not in the way you want.

You swallow nervously. “Y-yeah,” you stammer, your voice almost cracking. “You can come in.” 

Logan immediately twists the knob and pushes the door open, stepping inside your room. You can’t help but smile at the sight of his familiar beater and blue jeans. He takes another step and closes the door behind him—he’s just a few feet away from you, his arms crossed over his chest.

He smirks, tilting his head down. “It’s Saturday night, and this is what you’re doing?” He steps towards you, approaching the bed and sitting down. 

“Not feeling great,” you admit, wincing as you sit up in bed. 

Logan’s brows immediately furrow with concern. His hand comes up to rest on your knee, and you have to stop yourself from shuddering under his touch. “Are you okay?” He asks, his thumb drawing gentle circles into your skin. He sniffs once, and you know he can smell the blood between your thighs. “Do you need anything?” 

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” you say, trying to politely brush off his concern. You don’t want to trouble him, don’t want to hold him back from his Saturday night plans. But Logan’s brows are still furrowed, concern painted clearly across his face. “Really, I’m okay,” you reassure, but he doesn’t budge. 

“I know you’re not okay,” he says, his eyes looking deeply into yours. “Let me help you, yeah?”

“I’d feel bad. I’d be holding you back from whatever plans you—”

“No plans, princess,” Logan says, cutting you off. You try to hide the way your breath hitches in your throat at the familiar nickname. “Just you. Whatever you need.” He smiles widely, his thumb still drawing circles into your knee. 

It’s so soft, so delicate, so unlike the way Logan is with others. There’s something domestic about this, something especially comforting and gentle. He’s sacrificing his Saturday night for you—to make sure you’re okay. Your heart squeezes in your chest at the thought. 

“Is it bad?” He asks, his voice low and calm. You’re so lost in your thoughts that you almost don’t notice the way Logan inches closer; don’t notice the way his hand slides down to your lower stomach. The warmth of his hand feels so good that you have to stifle a moan at the sudden contact.  

“Y-yeah,” you stammer, leaning into his touch. His hand presses firmly into your stomach, rubbing gently. “But your hand feels nice,” you admit, your voice a bit shaky as the words fall from your lips. 

He’s next to you now, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hips in line with yours. His touch, his presence—it’s all simultaneously relaxing and exhilarating. You’ve never had him this close, never felt him touch you like this. Your heart beats out of your chest as his palm pushes against your aching lower abdomen. He’s in tune with you, registering every movement you make, every half-moan you can’t seem to suppress as his hand soothingly rubs your stomach. 

You watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “Do you want me to get you anything?” He asks, smiling widely. Your mind immediately goes to the lack of ice cream in the freezer, but you’re hesitant to ask. Getting you something would entail leaving. And the last thing you want is for Logan to leave. 

“I’m okay,” you answer, but you know your voice comes out as unsure. 

He arches a brow, his caring smile turning into a knowing smirk. “You sure about that, princess?” He nods his head towards the door. “I saw you all disappointed after lookin’ in the freezer, earlier.”

You can’t help the grin that forms on your face at Logan’s words. He noticed you. “There wasn’t any ice cream left,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. 

Logan chuckles and stands up, his palm slipping away from your stomach. You want to reach out, to yank him down and force his hand back where it was. “I’ll be right back,” he says, walking towards the door. “Don’t move an inch. I mean it!” He keeps his eyes on you as he backs out of the room, opening the door and closing it carefully behind him. 

Not even a minute later, Logan comes back with a silver spoon and a pint of your favorite ice cream. “No way,” you mutter, shaking your head, your smile spreading across your face. “How did you know?”

Logan smirks. “I just do,” he answers, sitting back in his place next to you on the edge of the bed. He passes you the silver spoon and the pint. “Knew that’s what you were looking for. Went out to the store to grab it the second you walked out of the kitchen empty-handed.”

“You’re amazing,” you whisper, still in awe of how he got you the ice cream without asking. He simply noticed. He remembered your favorite flavor—you never had to tell him a thing. He just knew. 

You open the packaging and dig into the ice cream, wrapping your lips around the spoon. “Oh sorry,” you mumble, your mouth full of ice cream as you pull the spoon from your lips. “Do you want some?”

You dig the spoon back into the ice cream and scoop out a big serving, pointing the spoon in Logan’s direction. He smirks before opening his mouth, waiting for you to feed him. Your breath catches in your throat as you hold the spoon up to him. His lips wrap around the ice cream, and he takes the spoon from your hand, his fingertips brushing against yours. 

He sucks and pulls the spoon from his mouth. You swallow harshly at the sight, watching as he digs into the pint and takes another scoop of ice cream, this time bringing the spoon to your lips. You open your mouth, inviting him inside, closing it around the cold ice cream. You silently wish you could taste him on the spoon. 

You grab the spoon from his hands, his fingers lingering before pulling away—like he’d do anything to touch you again, to savor the feeling of your skin against his. 

“Thank you, Logan,” you say, taking another scoop of ice cream and shoving the spoon past your lips. “Really, it means a lot.”

Logan shakes his head, his hand finding that spot on your stomach again. “It was nothing,” he mutters. “I’d do anything for you.” He soothingly rubs side to side, the warmth of his palm enveloping your lower abdomen. “Is there anything else you wanted?” He asks, nodding his head towards the T.V. on the other side of your room. “Wanna watch a movie or something?”

“Sure,” you say back, reaching for the remote on your nightstand. You flick the T.V. on and look over at Logan. “W-would you wanna stay?” You ask, nodding your head to the other side of the bed. 

“Wasn’t planning on going anywhere, princess,” he husks, standing up and walking to the other side of the bed. He settles in next to you, lying down on the mattress. You’re shoulder to shoulder, and his hand quickly finds your lower abdomen again. 

You scroll through the movies on various streaming services, and nothing seems to click until you find an old, campy B-movie from the 80s. You turn to face Logan, grinning widely, pointing the remote to the television. He rolls his eyes playfully as he reads the description. “Whatever you want, pretty girl.”

Your heart stops at the epithet. Pretty girl? Princess, sure—you’re familiar with Logan’s classic princess nickname. But pretty girl was entirely new. Different. Certainly not friendly. Princess was teasing, tongue and cheek—a way to mess with you, to slip under your skin and rile you up. Flirty? Perhaps. But not inherently romantic. Pretty girl? 

Pretty girl seems like…more. 

You decide to take a chance, letting your head rest on Logan’s shoulder as you press play on the movie. You spoon ice cream into your mouth, waiting for Logan’s next move. After a few seconds, he sits up. His shoulder separates from yours, and his arm reaches around your shoulders instead, tugging you into his chest. 

“This okay?” He asks, his lips brushing against the side of your head, pressing what feels like the ghost of a kiss to your temple.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter. “It’s perfect.” You can hear Logan’s heart beating in his chest. It’s loud and fast. His fingertips draw circles into your shoulder as he pulls you closer. 

The movie starts, but you can’t seem to concentrate. You nervously shovel scoop after scoop of ice cream into your mouth, hoping to take your mind off Logan, but it obviously doesn’t work. Not with the way his arms are wrapped around you—one draped around your shoulder while his other hand is tucked in its place against your lower stomach. 

You somehow finish the entire pint, and Logan notices immediately, taking the container from your hands and placing it on the nightstand next to him. His hand is back, soothingly rubbing your abdomen, within the blink of an eye. He’s endlessly attentive, listening carefully to every breath you take, watching every wrinkle in your forehead crease and every wince you make when a bad cramp comes on. 

A sudden, sharp pain builds in your abdomen, and you squeeze your eyes shut, grinding your teeth as the pain worsens. You take a deep breath through your nose and out your mouth.

“Hey,” Logan coos, pressing his hand a bit harder into your belly. “Is it getting bad?” He asks softly, holding you tighter. 

You swallow harshly, taking another deep breath. “Yeah, it hurts right now,” you choke, wincing as you let yourself lean completely into him. 

Logan pulls you into his lap, one arm draping across the front of your chest while his hand slips underneath the waistband of your athletic shorts. He stops just above your panties. “Is this okay?” He asks, his warm palm messaging your stomach. 

The pressure is so nice, and the heat from his palm is delicious. “Yes,” you groan, your legs intertwining with his. You squirm a bit in his lap, trying to get comfortable. “You’re so warm,” you whisper, turning on your side, still situated between his legs, your head on his chest. “F-feels good.”

Logan presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Are you sure you’re okay?” His arm slides up and down your body before settling on your waist. “You sure you don’t need anything?”

“I-I don’t know,” you admit, pressing your face into the center of his chest. All you can smell is him—pine and musk and denim and leather. It’s perfect, dizzying, distracting. Just need you, you think to yourself. 

“Need me, pretty girl?” Logan asks. You lift your head up, furrowing your brows as you realize you let that thought find its way to your lips and out of your mouth. “I’m right here.” 

His face is just inches away from yours. His breath fans across your nose, your cheeks. His lips are close, too—just a bit closer and you’d be kissing. “L-Lo,” you stutter. “I…” You trail off, unable to form a coherent thought. You can feel the tension in the air, feel the heat building between your thighs. Fuck, you want him. Need him. 

His throat bobs as he swallows. “What’s going on here, sweetheart?” Logan murmurs, his forehead pressing to yours. 

“W-want you,” you admit, your voice shaky. 

“Want you too, darlin’,” he says, his fingertips playing with the waistband of your panties. “Let me take care of you,” he husks. “Let me take the pain away.” And you want him too—more than anything. 

“Please,” you beg as his hand slips under the hem of your panties. You flip the T.V. off and throw the remote to the floor.

His lips finally press against yours, slow and languid. His fingertips find your clit, drawing tight, quick circles around the bud. “I’ll tease you next time, pretty girl,” Logan whispers at the shell of your ear. But all you register is next time. There’s going to be a next time. “Just wanna make you feel good right now.”

“F-fuck,” you moan, your hips rocking against his hand. He swirls around your clit, pinching gently between his strokes. 

Logan’s free hand comes down to your thighs, gripping your flesh tightly and spreading your legs wider. “That feel good, princess?” He rasps, stroking faster. 

Your head falls back to his shoulder. “Yes, so good,” you whimper. His lips find your neck, kissing your pulse point and sucking softly. His hand slides back up your body, slipping underneath your shirt, trailing over your stomach. 

His fingertips climb tentatively towards your chest. You remember you aren’t wearing a bra as Logan’s fingers brush against the underside of your breasts. “Please,” you beg, arching your back into his touch.

Logan presses another kiss to your neck as his hand palms your breasts, massaging gently, alternating between one side and the other. He hikes up your tank top, giving himself better access to all of you. His fingers continue their tight circles on your clit, swirling around, releasing that pressure at the bottom of your stomach. Your walls clench down around nothing as he presses harder into your core. 

“Thought about this for so long,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. “Thought about touching you, fucking you. Wanted you this whole time, sweetheart.”

“Logan,” you moan, bringing your lips to his. “I wanted you too,” you confess. You can feel yourself hitting your peak, ready to fall apart. “I’m c-close.”

“I know, darlin’,” Logan soothes, his fingers quickening. “I’ve got you.” His lips melt against yours, fitting together like magnets, like you were always meant to find each other. “So beautiful,” he murmurs, his tongue swiping along your bottom lip. “Wanna make you come, wanna watch you let go.” 

It all happens so fast—your orgasm crashes into you, and Logan swallows your moans with another kiss. “That’s it, pretty girl,” Logan coos, still stroking your clit. Your walls flutter as pleasure courses through your every nerve ending. His strokes slow down until his fingers rest, unmoving, on your clit. Logan’s hands still palm your breasts, messaging the tender flesh gently. “You okay?” He asks softly. 

“Yeah, p-perfect,” you stutter, curling into his chest. “Felt so good.” 

Logan presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “Relax darlin’,” he husks, taking a deep breath. 

“Lo?” You whisper, looking up at him, his eyes immediately finding yours. “Do you really want me?” You ask, suddenly embarrassed to be saying anything at all, and yet you find yourself rambling. “When you were saying all that when we were—” 

But his lips are on yours again, hungry and desperate. He pulls away like he doesn’t want to—like it hurts to be away from you for even the briefest second. “I want you, pretty girl,” he says, pulling you back into his chest. “You’re all I think about…” He trails off, his voice less stable than it was just seconds ago. “You’re all I need.” 

“Logan,” you say, smiling widely. “I’ve wanted you for months. I didn’t know you felt the same way.” 

You can feel his chuckle reverberate through his chest. “How could I ever want someone else?” He asks. There’s levity in his voice, but you know he’s being serious. “You’re it. You make me think that…” he pauses, and you look up from his chest. “You make me think that there’s some purpose to all this.” He meets your gaze, and you can see the sudden shift in his expression. His eyes are glossed over. He works his jaw. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this. For love. For you.” 

You know that Logan has had everything taken from him, time and time again. He’s an undeniably selfless person, the type of person who would let the world destroy him to protect those he loves—and he has—it’s happened. But he’s still here, and now he’s here with you. He deserves happiness. He deserves love. And the thought that he finally feels those things with you is too much to bear. You try to smile, but you can’t help the tears brimming in your eyes. “I love you,” you whisper. “So much.” 

“I love you too, beautiful.” 

His lips are on yours again, melding, coming together, building something unbreakable. You straddle him, his hands finding your hips. He squeezes firmly, keeping you in place on top of him. His tongue swipes your lower lip, asking permission to slip inside, and you happily oblige. You want Logan, all of him, now. Forever. 

“Always gonna want you, just you,” he mumbles against your lips. “So fucking beautiful. Never wanted anyone like this.” His hands guide your hips to roll over his. Your core drags along his erection—large and straining against his jeans. 

“Want you so bad,” you whine, grinding down onto him. But then you remember the reason Logan is here in the first place. “B-but I’m on my—”

Logan rocks his hips against yours, ignoring you. “As long as you want this pretty girl, I want this. Don’t care about that.”

Fuck.

You nod, your lips pressing to his. He swallows your whines, his tongue brushing against yours, his teeth grazing your lower lip. His hands slide up and down your back, your tank top still hiked up over your breasts. Logan’s nails trail across your skin, drawing along your curves, taking in every inch of you. 

You bring your hands down his chest, finding the hem of his beater. You tug it up his body, revealing his skin. “You want this off?” He asks, smiling against your lips. You nod, and he breaks contact for just a split second, tugging his shirt up and over his head. 

He’s so beautiful, his abs, the thick, dark hair scrawling across his chest. You bite your lip at the sight. “You’re perfect,” you mutter, letting your hands feel his exposed skin, searching him, growing familiar with his every curve.

He smirks, his hands finding your hips again, squeezing tightly. “That’s all you, princess,” he rasps, shaking his head. “Beautiful girl.” 

You grind your hips against his again, and he presses his forehead to yours. “Need you, Lo.” His arms wrap around your back, pulling you in so that your chest is flush with his. Your fingertips find his belt, fumbling with the buckle until you get it undone, and sliding the leather out of the loops of his jeans. You toss it to the floor and quickly work at his button and zipper. 

“Slow down, sweetheart,” Logan chides, grabbing your wrists with one of his massive hands. “Let’s take it easy, yeah?”

You can’t help but pout. “But I want you so bad,” you whine, grinding down onto him. Logan groans, his hips bucking up into yours. He brings his hands to the hem of his jeans and tugs them down. You take the opportunity to grab a condom from the drawer of the nightstand next to you. 

When you look back, Logan’s erection is free from his jeans. He’s massive, so much bigger than you ever imagined. You swallow harshly, handing him the condom with shaky hands. He smirks, opening the little package and rolling the condom over his cock. “Don’t worry, darlin’,” he husks. “Gonna take it slow, okay?”

“Okay,” you mumble, and then his hands are on your hips again, flipping you onto your back so that he’s hovering over you. He quickly finds the hem of your shorts, and you lift your hips up a little, helping him tug them, along with your panties, down your legs. He places them at the end of the bed and lowers back down over you. 

He balances on his forearm as his free hand guides his cock to your folds, sliding through you, nudging against your clit. “You have no idea how much I need you,” Logan whispers, his tip teasing your entrance. “No idea how much I love you.” 

He shoves himself deep inside you with one thrust, bottoming out, down to the hilt. “Fuck,” he curses, his cock filling you up, stretching you out, giving you a chance to adjust to the sheer size of him. “You feel so good,” he praises. “Knew you’d feel perfect. Fucking made for me.”

He finally pulls out only to thrust back in, somehow deeper this time. “Logan,” you moan, your nails digging into his muscular back. “S-so big, so good,” you breathe, stumbling over your words. 

“Love it when you say my name, pretty girl,” Logan pants, slipping out and pumping back in, setting a slow, languid pace. His free hand reaches between your bodies, his fingertips finding your clit with ease. He draws those familiar, tight, rapid little circles into your bud. 

You curse under your breath as he splits you open, his pace growing faster every few thrusts or so. He’s holding back, and you can see it in his face—his eyes all dark as he works his jaw, feigning patience. You know he wants more—to take all of you and make you his. 

“Logan, y-you don’t have to…” You trail off, your eyes fluttering closed as he hits that sweet spot deep inside you. 

“Eyes on me, pretty girl,” he says, demand in his voice. Your eyes flutter back open. “What do you need?” He asks, softer now, attentive as ever.  

His fingers swirl against your clit, adding more pressure with every careful stroke, making it near impossible for you to form a coherent thought. “Y-you don’t have to hold back,” you stammer as he sinks into you. “I-I can take it.”

He presses a kiss to your lips as he pumps in and out. “Just wanna take care of you this time, beautiful.” He pinches your clit lightly before stroking again. “Next time I’ll take you how I want.” There it is again. Next time. 

His hips snap against yours, his fingers working dexterously at your clit. It’s all too much, the way he bites your lips, burying his face into the crook of your neck and kissing your pulse point, whispering praises against the shell of your ear. Taking me so well. Doing so good for me, darlin’. So fucking beautiful. Such a good girl. 

His cock drags along your walls, and you clench down around him. He twitches inside you as he buries himself deeper, hitting that sweet spot again and again. “Logan,” you whine, your eyes struggling to stay open. “I’m so close.” Logan’s cock throbs as the words fall from your lips. 

“F-fuck,” he stutters, his composure slipping. “I know, princess. Me too.” His hips rock into yours, his pace growing faster with every hit. “Wanna feel you come on my cock, wanna get there with you.” 

You arch your back, your chest pushing flush against his. “Yes,” you moan as he thrusts into you, the pads of his fingers firmly circling your clit. It’s too much—you know you’re coming undone, unraveling underneath him. Your walls clench down around him again. 

“That’s it, beautiful,” Logan soothes. “Come with me.”

The tension snaps, splitting in two. It’s uncontrollable, a raging fire, blinding heat. You let go, melting into the mattress, your orgasm wracking through your body. Logan twitches inside you, and you know he’s coming too. You’re trembling underneath him, legs shaking as his thrusts slow down. With one more slow pump, Logan stills inside you. His fingers stroke your clit lightly, working you through your high, bringing you back down to Earth. 

After a few seconds, his fingers slip away, and he pulls out of your cunt. You can’t help but feel empty now that he’s gone, already craving more of him. He sits up on his knees and climbs off the bed, taking the condom from his cock and tossing it into the garbage. He grabs his boxers from off the floor and tugs them on. 

Before you can beg him to come back, he’s crawling onto the bed. He grabs your panties and your shorts, dragging them up your legs, making sure everything is back in its right place. 

“You okay, pretty girl?” He asks, tugging you into his chest. “You need anything? New pad? Water?”

“I’m okay,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to the center of his chest. “Just need you.”

You can feel him smiling against the crown of your head. “You have me, beautiful.” He whispers. “Always gonna have me.” He tugs the sheets and the comforter over your bodies, the warmth of him and your bed dragging you under the current of sleep. 

You wake up a few hours later. Logan is still there, next to you, his arms holding you tightly to his chest. 

“Lo,” you whisper into the darkness of your room.

“I’m here.” His voice is cloudy, tired, filled with sleep. “Never gonna be anywhere but here.” He presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “Go back to sleep.”

“I love you,” you say, because you can, because you mean it.

You can hear the sleepy smile in his voice. “I love you too.”

tags: @banlaineslawyer @gothgoblinbabe @alsoprettyinpink @librababe99 @ponygyatt @yoursrosie @itdobe-foggy @gplol @healmydesires @qardasngan @princessterek @alastorssimp @yawnetu @chronicallybubbly @corvid007 @muffin-berry @emmdog2999 @kieekto @creepsbeware @starrdustss @evasmlp @figsnpassionfruits @spiderset @ilysmdovie12 @silversprings-mp3 @prettyseaveins @derbygracie @pedrohoe04 @wittyjasontodd @theasiaabattoir @movhoney @honeyfwr @fanfic-writing-barbie @manipulatour @cosmiccandydreamer

[paxtito]

and they were roommates

pairings: tara x reader (g!p)

word count: 2717

warnings: smut 18+, masturbating, oral (r receiving), p in v, swearing

summary: tara is out running errands, she’d be gone for hours- or so you thought

a/n: i’m working on multiple request atm— wenclair x reader one and the radiohead song (i’m just listening and reading the song to get an idea atm) also thank you to the anon for requesting this and their kind words!

The dorm is quiet, unusually so, and it’s kind of nice. Tara had mentioned heading out for the day—something about running errands and meeting up with Sam—and while you’re used to the hum of her presence, the silence isn’t unwelcome.

You glance around the shared space. It’s small but cozy, a mix of her personality and yours crammed into every corner. Her side of the room is meticulously organized—her books stacked neatly, her bed made with precision. In contrast, your side looks… well, lived-in. A pile of clothes rests precariously on your desk chair, and your bed is a haphazard mess of blankets and pillows.

You plop onto your bed, phone in hand, scrolling mindlessly through social media. Without Tara around, you’re left to your own devices—literally. You snort at a meme, sending it to her out of habit.

“That’s stupid,” she’d probably reply, but there’d be a hint of fondness in it.

After a while, you glance at the clock. Noon. The day stretches ahead, and you find yourself feeling restless. You could clean up your side of the room, but… nah. Instead, you wander over to Tara’s desk.

Her books catch your eye first—old classics mixed with crime thrillers and a few surprisingly heartfelt poetry collections. You pick one up, flipping through the pages idly. A note scribbled in the margin catches your attention, her handwriting sharp and deliberate: “This makes no sense. Why didn’t he just leave?”

You chuckle softly. Even in her annotations, Tara’s blunt honesty shines through.

Your gaze drifts to her bulletin board. It’s a mix of pinned photos, ticket stubs, and little reminders. One of the pictures is of the two of you, taken on move-in day. You’re grinning like an idiot, throwing up a peace sign, while she’s glaring at the camera, her arms crossed—but there’s a subtle upturn to her lips that gives her away.

You flop onto your bed, the old springs creaking under your weight. The small TV in the corner flickers to life as you jab at the remote, the sound of canned laughter filling the room. It's some trashy reality show, but it's mindless and distracting—just what you need right now.

As you settle in, your gaze drifts around the room. Tara's side is always so pristine, everything in its place. It's annoying how tidy she is. You, on the other hand... well, your side looks like a bomb went off in a thrift store.

You reach for the bag of chips on your nightstand, tearing it open with a loud rip. The salty scent mingles with the faint smell of Tara's lavender body spray, creating a strange but not unpleasant odor.

You munch away, eyes glued to the screen, as snippets of conversation from the show drift through your thoughts.

"I think I'm going to kill her," one of the contestants is saying, her voice dripping with fake sweetness.

You snort. Yeah, right. They're all too busy primping and preening to actually do anything. Unlike the Ghostface killers, they've got no balls.

You check the time again, just to be sure. Tara won't be back for at least a couple of hours. With the coast clear, a mischievous grin spreads across your face. Time to take advantage of the privacy.

You reach over to your bedside table, fishing around in the drawer until your fingers close around the cool, smooth bottle of lotion. You pop the cap open with practiced ease, squirting a generous amount into your palm. The slick, slightly cold sensation sends a shiver down your spine as you rub your hands together, warming the lotion.

With your other hand, you unlock your phone and pull up your favorite porn site. Your fingers fly over the screen as you type in your search, already feeling the familiar stirrings of arousal. A few taps later, and a video starts playing, the sounds of moaning and grunting filling the now-silent room.

You settle back against your pillow, one hand already slipping beneath the waistband of your sweatpants. Your cock is already half-hard, twitching in anticipation. You wrap your fingers around it, giving it a slow stroke as you watch the scene unfold on your screen.

You stroke your cock slowly, teasingly, savoring the building pleasure. Your other hand roams over your chest, pinching and tweaking a nipple through the thin fabric of your shirt. The dual sensations send sparks of electricity shooting through your body, making your hips buck up into your touch.

On screen, the actress lets out a particularly loud moan, and you match it with a groan of your own. Fuck, that's hot.

Just as you're getting into a rhythm, the door to your dorm swings open without warning. You freeze, your hand still wrapped around your throbbing cock, as Tara steps inside.

"Shit!" she exclaims, her eyes widening as she takes in the scene before her. You're sprawled on your bed, pants pulled down, phone in hand, and a sticky puddle of lube on your stomach.

Mortification floods through you, and you frantically try to cover yourself, grabbing a pillow and pressing it over your lap. Your face burns with embarrassment, and you can't meet Tara's gaze.

"I-I thought you said you'd be gone for hours!" you stammer, trying to come up with some excuse. But there's no hiding what you were doing.

Tara stands in the doorway, frozen in shock. Her eyes dart between your flushed face and the pillow. After a moment, she seems to shake herself out of her stupor.

Tara's eyes flick down to the pillow, then back up to your face. Her expression is unreadable, but there's a glint in her eye that makes your stomach flutter with nerves and excitement.

She steps further into the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. The sound seems to echo in the tense silence.

"I didn't mean to interrupt," she says, her voice low and teasing. She saunters over to your bed, the mattress dipping under her weight as she sits on the edge.

Your breath hitches as she reaches out, her fingers brushing against the pillow in your lap. Slowly, she pulls it away, revealing your straining erection. You whimper at the sudden exposure, the cool air hitting your overheated skin.

Tara's gaze rakes over your cock, and you feel yourself grow even harder under her scrutiny. Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips, and your hips twitch involuntarily.

"Looks like you were in the middle of something," she purrs, her hand resting lightly on your thigh. Her touch is electric, sending shivers racing up your spine.

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd be back so soon," you manage to say, your voice coming out breathier than you intended.

Tara leans in closer, her breath ghosting over your ear. "Don't apologize," she whispers, her lips brushing against your skin. "I think I can help with that."

And then, before you can process what's happening, she's sliding down your body, her hands pushing your legs apart. You gasp as her mouth hovers over your cock, her hot breath fanning over the sensitive skin.

"Fuck, Tara," you groan, your fingers tangling in her hair as she takes you into her mouth. The wet heat of her tongue is almost too much to bear, and you buck your hips, desperate for more.

Tara hums around you, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure through your body. She bobs her head, taking you deeper each time, her hand wrapping around the base of your cock.

Your head falls back against the pillows as Tara works her magic. Her mouth is a wonder, hot and wet and so damn perfect. You can feel every ridge and valley of her tongue as it glides along your shaft, tracing the veins and swirling around the head.

"Fuck, your mouth feels so good," you groan, your hips rocking up to meet her movements. Your fingers tighten in her hair, gently guiding her pace.

Tara hums in response, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. She takes you deeper, her nose brushing against your pubic bone as she swallows around you.

The sight of her, head bobbing in your lap, lips stretched obscenely around your cock, is almost too much to handle. You feel yourself getting close, your balls tightening and your stomach muscles clenching.

"Tara, I'm gonna..." you warn, your voice strained and breathless.

But she doesn't pull away. Instead, she doubles down, her head moving faster, her hand pumping in tandem. She looks up at you through her lashes, her eyes dark with lust and something else, something intense and hungry.

It's too much. With a guttural groan, you explode in her mouth, your cock pulsing as you spill your seed down her throat. She swallows it all, not spilling a single drop, and continues to suck and lick until you're spent.

Finally, she releases you with a lewd pop, sitting back on her heels and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She looks immensely pleased with herself, a satisfied smirk on her kiss-swollen lips.

You collapse back onto the bed, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Your whole body feels like jelly, boneless and sated.

"Holy shit," you breathe, running a hand through your sweat-dampened hair. "That was... wow."

Tara giggles, the sound low and sultry. She crawls up your body, straddling your hips and leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

You roll over, pinning Tara beneath you on the bed. She looks up at you, her eyes dark and hooded with desire. You capture her lips in another heated kiss, your tongue delving into her mouth to taste yourself on her tongue.

Your hands roam her body, slipping beneath the hem of her shirt to caress the smooth skin of her stomach. She arches into your touch, a soft moan escaping her lips.

Breaking the kiss, you sit up and pull her shirt over her head, tossing it carelessly aside. Your eyes drink in the sight of her, clad only in a lacy bra. You lean down, trailing open-mouthed kisses along the swell of her cleavage.

Tara's fingers thread through your hair, tugging gently as she holds you to her. "More," she breathes, her voice husky with need.

You oblige, reaching behind her to unclasp her bra. It falls away, freeing her breasts to your hungry gaze. You take a moment to admire them, full and perfect, before lowering your head to take one pebbled nipple into your mouth.

Tara gasps, her back arching off the bed. You lavish attention on her breast, sucking and nibbling until she's writhing beneath you. Your hand slides down her stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of her jeans.

"These need to go," you murmur against her skin, hooking your fingers in the denim and pulling it down her legs. She lifts her hips to help, kicking the jeans off and leaving her in just a pair of matching lace panties.

You sit back on your heels, taking in the sight of her laid out before you, flushed and wanting. Your cock twitches, already hardening again. You reach down to push your own pants fully off, kicking them away.

Tara's eyes widen as she takes in your naked form, her gaze zeroing in on your erection. "Fuck, you're so hot," she breathes, her hand reaching out to wrap around you.

You grind your cock against her, feeling the heat of her through the thin lace. Tara gasps, her hips lifting to meet yours, seeking more friction. The rough drag of your hard length against her clothed clit sends sparks of pleasure shooting through you both.

"Please," she whimpers, her fingers digging into your shoulders. "I need you inside me."

You don't make her wait any longer. Hooking your fingers in her panties, you yank them down her legs, tossing them aside carelessly. Tara spreads her legs wider, inviting you in.

You position yourself at her entrance, the head of your cock nudging against her slick folds. Tara's breath hitches, her eyes fluttering closed as you press forward.

You sink into her inch by delicious inch, groaning at the tight, wet heat enveloping you. Tara is so fucking perfect, her walls gripping you like a vice. You bottom out, your hips flush against hers, buried to the hilt inside her.

"Fuck, you feel so good," you pant, fighting the urge to just start pounding into her. Instead, you hold still, letting her adjust to the stretch.

Tara rolls her hips, urging you on. "Move," she demands, her nails raking down your back.

You don't need to be told twice. You start to thrust, setting a steady rhythm that has you both gasping and moaning. The room fills with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin and the creaking of the bed.

Tara wraps her legs around your waist, using the leverage to meet your thrusts. Her tits bounce with every snap of your hips, and you lean down to capture a nipple in your mouth, sucking hard.

"Yes, just like that," Tara hisses, her head thrashing on the pillow. "Don't stop."

You have no intention of stopping. You fuck her hard and fast, chasing your pleasure and hers. The coil of heat in your belly winds tighter and tighter, signaling your impending release.

You can feel your orgasm building, your balls tightening and your thrusts becoming erratic. But you force yourself to slow down, to focus on Tara's pleasure instead of your own.

Tara's nails dig into your shoulders, her teeth sinking into your neck as she holds on for dear life. Her walls flutter around you, tightening and releasing in a rhythm that tells you she's close.

You redouble your efforts, angling your hips to hit that spot inside her that makes her see stars. Tara keens, her body tensing beneath you.

You reach between your bodies, finding her clit with your fingers. Tara bucks against your hand, her hips moving in frantic circles as you rub tight circles over the sensitive nub. You can feel her getting closer, her inner walls starting to flutter around your cock.

"Come on, baby," you urge, your voice low and rough. "Come for me."

Tara's body goes rigid, her back arching off the bed as her orgasm crashes over her. She cries out, her pussy clamping down on you like a vice as she comes undone.

The feeling of her coming around your cock is too much. With a guttural groan, you pull out, your hand flying over your shaft as you stroke yourself to completion. Your cum spurts out, painting Tara's stomach in thick, white ropes.

You collapse beside her, both of you panting and sweaty. Tara turns her head to look at you, a lazy, satisfied smile on her face.

"That was intense," she murmurs, reaching out to brush a sweat-dampened lock of hair from your forehead.

You grab some tissues from the box on your nightstand, quickly wiping the cum from Tara's stomach. She sighs contentedly as you clean her, her body still tingling from the aftershocks of her orgasm.

As you toss the used tissues aside, you can't help but let your gaze wander over her naked form. Tara is a vision, her skin flushed and glowing, her hair splayed out on the pillow like a halo. She looks thoroughly debauched, and the sight sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through you.

But then reality starts to set in. You just had sex with your roommate. Your best friend. What does this mean for your relationship? Will things be awkward now?

Tara seems to sense your thoughts. She sits up, pulling the sheet around her naked body. "Hey," she says softly, reaching out to cup your cheek. "We okay?"

You nod, not quite trusting yourself to speak. Tara smiles, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

"Good," she murmurs against your mouth. "Because I want to do that again. Soon."

With that, she hops off the bed, completely unselfconscious in her nudity. She pads over to her closet, rummaging around for something to wear.

You watch her, your mind still reeling. What have you gotten yourself into?

—

request: where reader and Tara are roommates and reader thinks Tara is out so reader starts to masturbate but Tara comes home early and walks in on reader so she gives a helping hand (a blow job) then they do it yk?

[dughole]

radiohead’s complicity in israeli-occupied palestine

my feelings on radiohead are complicated these days, as i’m sure they are for many. i'm using this post as a method of sorting out my own thoughts & to provide sources.

for me, the bottom line is this: radiohead is both a brand & a musical group. the brand of radiohead has always had deep roots in the israeli colonial project - they have played many, many shows there throughout their career. their breakout single - creep, was intially only a hit in israel (x, x) & the personal choices of some of radiohead's members remain just as involved. jonny greenwood met his future wife - the israeli artist, antivaxxer & vehement zionist (x) sharona katan - at a show radiohead played in israel in 1993 (x). jonny consistently collaborated with zionist musician shye ben tzur & his projects continue to tour in tel aviv as recently as last september. as for jonny himself - his only statement in regards to the war on gaza has been in mourning for the israeli concert goers on october 10th - w no such empathy spared to the 100,000 palestinians dead, injured, or missing. as for thom, while he’s thrown a few bitchfits (x) through the years abt criticism of radiohead’s shows in israel, he has imo - only paid lipservice to the criticism, saying “playing in a country isn’t the same as endorsing its government” going against the pleas of his peers & coworkers in the music industry. as well as the pro-palestine activism undertaken by his long term friend micheal stipe (x & x). (note: stipe stood by radiohead’s performance in israel in 2017, but his current political choices suggest his understanding of the situation has evolved). even his own son - noah yorke, a fellow working musician, has voiced his opposition to the genocide in gaza via instagram stories. as for the other members, rhythm guitarist ed o'brien has called for a ceasefire, as well as making a few tweets about "solidarity with palestinians & israeli peacemakers". while bassist colin greenwood reportedly refused to accept letters of dialogue from the fan-run organization radiohead fans for palestine. drummer phillip selway's commentary is similarly brief but defensive, saying radiohead's 2017 tel aviv concert "felt right"

to me, this paints a picture of a band who's members stances on israel range from abhorrent to simply not enough. & as a brand, their particular combination of action & inaction amounts to a fundamentally zionist perspective. you cannot separate radiohead as artists from radiohead as a brand name.

i've loved radiohead since i was 14. i was brought into it by another longtime fan. i cried & danced when i saw them live back in 2017 - it was, & remains, a moment that allowed me to live through the hardest parts of my life. i felt for the longest time, that radiohead's music & political positions encouraged my empathy - my questioning of conservative political authority. & while all celebrities are failures in some sense - it is still heartbreaking to know how wrong i was.

i don't think it's possible to disconnect the decade of connection & love i have for their music - I won't ask that of myself or anyone else. & the idea of scrubbing one's taste of the "morally impure" is useless effort & an inappropriate simplification of both art & our conceptions of what makes someone "bad". but i can say with certainty - i will not be giving them any more of my money, whether that be streaming their music or buying their merch - & i encourage you to do the same. silence is complicity - this is beyond silence.

in the words of nina simone - "an artist's duty, as far as i'm concerned, is to reflect the times. how can you be an artist and not reflect the times? that to me is the definition of an artist."

[loveemii]

𝐉𝐞𝐟𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 - 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐜𝐬

|𝐒𝐟𝐰/𝐍𝐬𝐟𝐰| 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐍𝐬𝐟𝐰 - 𝐉𝐞𝐟𝐟 𝐓.𝐊. 𝐱 𝐀𝐟𝐚𝐛!

- Dating Jeff is always up and down, for example one day he’ll be all over you and and the next he’ll become distant

- Jeff absolutely loves and adores you though! He’ll tell how you hot n beautiful you are everyday on multiple times

- Jeffery’s favorite activity with you is watching mlp and drinking monsters (besides having sex ofc) :3

- While watching mlp he’ll be all cuddly with you, always has his hands on you. Snuggling his face on your chest or in your neck

- He also loves to give you small gifts, like this one time he got you your own knife, he made sure it was your favorite color ofc, and if they didn’t have the color you like then he’d buy things you can decorate it with :>

- Jeff is always bothering you, no matter what you’re doing. If you’re in the middle of taking a shower he’ll pop his head in the curtain and yap to you abt his next victim but stare at your boobs half the time (you love it though)

- Jeffery and you are HUGE music fans, he likes to skip the song just right before it ends though, it kind of gets you annoyed but he’s Jeff and you love him (lol)

•

- You and Jeff absolutely love to make out in the backseat of his car while listening to Radiohead or Chase Atlantic

- He’ll be so touchy with you as well, occasionally he’ll slip a hand (or two) under your shirt and bra, perking up your nipples real nice for him

- Jeff will also go down on you in his car, he loves to tease your clit too, hearing your whimpers are so beautiful to him, maybe just as beautiful as killing someone to him

- What makes him even hornier is when you try to push is head away or squeeze it with your thighs, tugging on his hair sends him over the edge (also his favorite position is 69)

- So when you two do 69 he’ll be a moaning mess, and don’t get me started on when you dom him, he’ll be whimpering and squirming not being able to stop moving

- And it’s even worse when you start to kiss his neck, he can’t take it; he’s too sensitive but you love to hear him beg you to stop

- Once you finish with him though he’ll act tough as if he wasn’t a mess for you a second ago, and he’ll do the aftercare (mainly kisses, cuddles and mlp)

thank you for reading my first creepypasta ff! i hope you enjoyed reading :’)

- please excuse any spelling or grammar mistakes, thank you

[fallstaticexit]

Prev / Next / Beginning / Pillowfort

Geoffrey and Bob Karaoke selection- Creep - Radiohead

AN: A little more insight on Nancy and her major: Nancy is majoring in architecture. The Landgraabs are famously known for owning land and property- both residential and commercial- and Nancy will eventually operate the part of family business that will allow her to design houses, buildings and other structures in addition to leasing. (Geoffrey comes from a family of doctors but he decided to get a business degree- as he knows this would likely please Nancy's parents)

Transcript under the cut

Siobhan: Think about it, Nancy! Making your mark on this university—on the world—begins with Theta!

Becca: Nice one, you two.

Nancy: They only want me to join their organization because it’ll benefit them. All they care about is money -Ouch!

Geoffrey: [winces] Sorry. Your knees are completely raw.

Geoffrey: They’ve only got as far as knowing your name. If you give them a chance to get to know the real you-

Nancy: There’s nothing to know! Why do you think I had my parents make arrangements so I’d have my own room? I don’t want roommates. I don’t want friends! I just want to do my time so I can-

Geoffrey: Get away, I know...but what if you just take the next four years to have fun? It’s ok to just enjoy it for what it is. Isn’t that what college is all about?

Nancy: [scoffs] Sure, for you. You don’t have the same expectations as me.

Nancy: You can be anything you want. You can join any sports team; you can switch your major a million times if you want to. I have to excel at everything I do, whether I want to or not, and I cannot come out of this a failure. I have to be ready to start working along with my parents the moment I graduate.

Geoffrey: I just want you to be happy. I want you to take care of yourself. Be kinder to yourself. Give yourself the benefit of the doubt. You’re a good person. You’re an amazing person, Nancy. Anyone would be lucky to be apart of your life.

Geoffrey: Does this hurt?

Nancy: Yes. It hurts.

Nancy: You’re too good for me.

Geoffrey: Don’t say that.

Geoffrey: It’s Karaoke night at Tab’s. Bobby and I wanted to check it out. Did you want to go?

Nancy: I think I’ll pass. I should get started on this project for Munch. I want to get ahead.

Geoffrey: If you change your mind, come down and unwind a bit. Have fun. Eat. Ok?

Nancy: Ok.

Geoffrey: I love you, Nance.

[door shuts]

Nancy Narrates: [I’m holding him back. A selfish part of me knows it, but I can’t fathom the thought of losing someone else]

[distant laughter]

Nancy: Heavenly Father, help me to find peace in Your love and wisdom-

Geoffrey and Bob Karaoke Pick: Creep by Radiohead I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here

[crowd whistles and cheers]

I don't care if it hurts I wanna have control

I want a perfect body I want a perfect soul

Morgan: [hums] Upright High Priestess. That’s twice now. Once again, my intuition is being called forth.

I want you to notice When I'm not around

Morgan: My appetite is off. I can’t focus. If I weren’t on the pill, I’d think I was knocked up. So. What does that leave me with? I can almost bet this is all connected to-

Morgan: You! You have something to do with this.

Nancy: [frowns] Do with...what, exactly?

You're so fuckin' special I wish I was special

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo

Morgan: Rich Christian girl with walls as high as Berlin stumbles on campus and taps my shoulder. I had a dream the night before that I placed an injured dove back into its nest. I think this is fate. Sit. I’ll do your reading. Free of charge, of course.

Nancy Narrates: [I didn’t know it then, how right she was. About fate. About everything]

What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here

[rabbitsrams]

snowy mornings - jschlatt x reader

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, teensy bit suggestive at the end :)

wordcount: 1.1k

a/n: its not even close to winter but i wrote most of this in one sitting so enjoy hehe

(moodboard by me, pictures not mine)

The sun barely peeks past the clouds. Small sprinkles of snow are still falling from the gray sky as Schlatt leaves the house. 

He's all bundled up. He's wearing at least four layers underneath his coat, something his mother always insisted he do. A hat that you got him as a gift is snug on his head and thermal gloves he's had since he was sixteen keep his hands warm. 

He looks through one of the windows of the house as he walks to the sidewalk, knowing you are still sleeping. He wishes he could be back in bed with you. Wishes he could have you in his arms. Wishes he was wrapped in blankets with you by his side as the heater warms the room.

But he's got a shovel in his hand, carrying the thing over his shoulder while he goes to the corner of the block, freezing his ass off even through all the layers.

His poor neighbors, elderly and helpless. They always thanked him whenever he shoveled for them, asking their children to come over and bring him some baked goods once the afternoon came. He didn't do it for some reward or anything, he knew some fucker would try to fall on their unshoveled property and “sue them for all they're worth,” as he told you one time. He just wanted to help them out and make sure their pathways were cleared.

He forgot to bring headphones out, so instead of blasting King Krule and Radiohead, he listened to the scraping of the metal against the concrete. The scraping that echoed throughout the entire block, likely waking light sleepers from their slumber. You were one of those light sleepers, and yet you stayed asleep. 

It was taxing going around the corner and back to his house to clear pathways for walkers alike. His neighbors would do it as well but in due time. They weren't early risers like he was. But only in the winter.

Memories of his father waking him and his brother up at ungodly hours to shovel after overnight blizzards crashed their way into New York. Those mornings were silent as well; it was like the grating scraping was music to his father's ears.

He managed to complete all the shoveling in less than an hour, his personal record. 

Quickly walking back up the driveway as the sun completely rose, he placed the shovel against the garage and went back inside, shivering and stomping the snow out of his boots. 

He yawned as he took his hat off. He placed it on the flat part of the handrail, looking at how the snow immediately started to melt into the fur. The gloves were next, he was shocked his fingers weren't completely numb. Then the jacket, also hastily hung next to yours, untouched since yesterday. The boots were left right by the door to be moved later as he walked up the stairs and to the bedroom where he discarded the extra layers.

He didn't see you stir as he entered the room. Even in your tired state, you could tell he was out of bed. You opened your eyes and saw him undressing, remaining in an old t-shirt from his father's college days and flannel pajama bottoms you often coveted.

You stretch, yawning softly. That gets his attention. He walks toward the bed and wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your neck. You're shocked awake by how cold his nose is.

“You're so warm...” he says, your neck muffling his words.

“Baby, you're freezing,” you hum as you pull him into bed with you. “Did you go out and shovel?”

“I always do.”

“Aww...” you kiss him on the cheek as you wrap the blanket around him. “You're so good.” 

He hums a response, cuddling close to you. He holds you tight against him, wrapping his limbs around you in an awkward manner.

“You are too fucking tall.” You joke. 

“And you are too fucking beautiful,” He kisses your neck many times. “And warm.”

“Go back to sleep, honey. You need to rest.”

“'S long as I can hold you in my arms like this, I'll sleep forever.”

You giggle, your laughter turning into a soft yawn. “Even when you're tired as shit you're still corny...” Your eyes close as you begin to stroke his hair.

He wakes before you once more five hours later. Your hand is still resting on the side of his head while the hand where your wedding ring rests is closer to his face. 

He shifts slightly so he can have a better view of you. Your mouth is slightly agape as you breathe, your nose too stuffed for you to breathe through it properly. He can see the gap between your two front teeth, something that makes your smile all the more beautiful.

You eventually wake to the sight of your husband watching you. He’s smiling softly, tiredness still present in his eyes. “Hey, you all warmed up?”

“I am… you’re so pretty…” He lays his head on your chest. You smile, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss on his forehead.

“Stay here, I’m gonna go get something,” You say as you try to get out of bed. He tries to grab you and bring you back to bed. “Just give me ten minutes, fifteen at most.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You come back ten minutes later with a steaming mug of hot chocolate. He’s sitting up at this point, a hand running through his messy hair. He smiles when he smells the steaming beverage and reaches his arms out as you place it on the bedside table. You get back into bed and snuggle close to him as he blows on the drink.

“You remembered the marshmallows…” Schlatt says, a yawn obstructing his words. 

“Of course I did.” You say. He laughs softly and wraps an arm around you. He tries to take a sip of the hot chocolate but hisses in pain as it burns his tongue.

“Aw, fuck.”

“Burns?”

“Yeah,” Schlatt waves a hand in front of his open mouth to try and ease the pain.

“Want me to kiss it better?” You joke. He nods, leaning close to you. You grin as you cup his face in your hands, the hair on his muttonchops tickling your palms. You press your lips to his softly, letting out a soft noise of surprise when he slides his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss. He tastes like hot chocolate and home.

When you pull away, his face is tinted red. “All better?” You ask, feeling your face heat up.

“Um…” Schlatt pretends to think for a moment. “I don’t think so.” He tugs at the hem of your, his, sleep shirt.

“Oh… well I definitely need to do something about that.” You raise your arms above your head and allow him to take the garment off before leaning in once again.

[moneymartin]

teen gf Shauna headcanons pleaseee

🐶 - losergf!shauna hcs

warnings: mostly fluff but a lil smut under the divider :p

a/n: i know u didn’t ask for loser but shauna shipman is soooo loser girlfriend u cannot tell me otherwise. kinda messy and trash… i’m so sleepy rn i’m writing this half awake nd lowk a lil drunk UGH

taglist: @deerlottie @ultrone

my brown eyed beautiful baby where do i even start.

def the most athletic yj i will stand by this till the day i die

MUSCLE MAMAAAA

rolls up the sleeves of her flannels so you can see her muscles pop 😮‍💨

not a gym freak though but she works her arms 100%

cuddlebug fosho

little spoon and you can argue with me about that all you want this girl loves to be held

when she big spoons though she’s burying your face into her chest all the time

she plays with your hair tho no doubt abt it

even when you’re cuddling her instead

super soft kisses all over you while you doze off

sleeps after you do just to make sure cause sometimes you end up sleeping a lil too hard and she needs to make sure you aren’t dead

well thats what she thinks.

wakes up early even though she sleeps the latest out of the both of you

when you sleep for way too long she ends up full on wrestling you until you wake up

music geek

she def loves the smashing pumpkins, radiohead, the cranberries, the cure, mazzy star, jeff buckley, pavement, the cardigans. artists and bands of that genre

had a walkman like nat’s that you guys share on walks together

also has a vinyl player that she keeps at hers so you could listen to music with her when you come over

writes about you in her journal while she listens to the music

also writes these cute little love letters for you and she’ll write what songs she listened to while writing

sleepovers all the time though she’s one of those girls

drives you all over the place too

no matter how far so that you know she truly loves you

she goes absolutely nuts when you’re wearing her clothes i fink

esp her flannels

the moment you’re seen wearing one she can only think about taking it off of you cause it looks so good 😞

loves when you wear her jersey too

or her letterman jacket

funny sock gal

wears the one w monster faces on em or something like that

south park socks… hmo

SMARTY PANTS

got accepted into brown for a reason

she’s always helping you with assignments in case they’re too hard

she runs through them so fast though it actually baffles you to how she can do it

book geek too

has probably read harry potter a million times

edgar allan poe is her main dude she def likes poems and stuff from him

genuinely has a momma instinct

before you even get sick she tells you to be careful with the cold

and you don’t listen.

so you do end up getting sick and she has to take care of you until you’re all better

babies you but is also teasing you cause you didn’t listen to her warnings about it 😭 she could tell beforehand that you were gonna get sick

unlike lottie i think shauna has the ability to cook and stuff like that

not a 5 star chef but she’s good enough for you

being touchy in her public is her thangggg

you guys are always touching somehow

pinky holding, interlocked arms, holding hands, her just grabbing your wrist. she’s always gotta hold you no matter whaaaat

not very possessive but definitely a jealous person

makes it known she’s jealous w her attitude

has those anger issues we all know it

is not afraid to make a scene in front of a bunch of people she will cuss someone out for even looking at you

but she’s just jealous cause she’s really insecure :( poor girl my god

she thinks that the people you talk to are better than she’ll ever be

you have to reassure her countless of times so she can feel better about herself cause she’s always questioning you abt it

she loves little make out seshes behind the bleachers

its def the thrill of being caught like she loves that so much 🥸

when she kisses you she isn’t rough i think she’s very gentle actually

caressing your jaw and cheeks so you know she’s there and its not just some dream 😭

loves sitting on your lap while kissing cause it makes her feel like she’s the one in charge

also cause your hands are always in the spots where she wants them without her having to ask

biting…

teeth marks EVERYWHERE!!!

dom fosho but that’s not relevant rn

during arguments this girl is ruthless

not because she wants to hurt you but it’s because she’s always bubbling up

bottles up everything cause she’s afraid people won’t listen to her

but she’ll apologize eventually after if it looks like whatever she said got to you

won’t mean anything she tells you she just gets so mad at everything cause she can’t express herself as well :(

she regrets it so fast too like she’s immediately saying sorry afterwards

def a lace girly

loves showing off her new sets for you…

red black and white are the favs

OUUHHH

whiny as fuck but also holds her noises in cause she thinks they’re embarrassing

PANTER AND GROANER FOR SUREEEE

switch i think

like if she really wanted to she could top you but she’d rather be a power bottom

have you ride her strap or whatever…

its blue.

loves when you eat her out though cause she gets to pull on your hair

makes you talk her through it and when you’re topping but when she tops shes SO bold

she loves when you praise her thats the only thing she wants to hear from you during it

makes you kiss around her tits for sure

thats where she always wants you to be

when she’s jealous you’re constantly asking if she’s okay which leads into an argument

meaning that it’ll probably lead into really hot angry sex from her

the car scene really spoke to me

initiates everything too

anyways i’m done i’m so tired

[yeonjunsvape]

souls don’t meet by accident

jooyeon smut

w/c: 1.7k

warnings: very smutty, 18+ only, dry humping, fingering, suggestive language, drinking.

a/n: sorry it’s a little long at the beginning, i wanted to try building character development-ish. please enjoy and follow for more. i’ll be doing txt, svt, and more xdh soon!! if you’d like to see anything in specific, feel free to message!! also big thanks to @joocomics for helping me and being a complete angel 🫶

the body. the muscles. the long slick back blonde hair. the tattoos that cover his body.

every inch of your new neighbor makes your body warm inside, even if you were too shy to say anything to him.

the first time you laid eyes on him he was outside, shirtless, and sorting the recyclables in his trash. his tattoos took up both of his arms and some on his chest, though you couldn't make out what they were you were interested.

"[Y/N], will you stop stalking the neighbor, he's going to think we're freaks." your roommate says and shakes her head, then sitting next to you on the couch at your bay window when she noticed you weren't listening.

"but look at him... i think the only thing in his closet is sweatpants and i'm totally fine with that." you sigh out lovingly, resting a cheek on your arm.

"your last relationship was what?.... 6 months ago, you should be out there meeting new people." your roommate nags on, but you tune her out again, watching the man from across the street walk inside his house.

"okay, if i go out with you tonight will you stop sounding like my mother?" you ask and grab her hands while facing each other on the couch. "yes, and i'll buy all your drinks if you let me give you a makeover." your eyebrows raised then you look down at your long t-shirt and sweats. "okay deal."

after hours of getting ready, it was already dark and the two of you head out to the local bar she usually attends.

you look down at your outfit, blushing a bit, embarrassed because she put you in a tight strapless crop top paired with a plaid skirt and biker boots. “you don’t think this outfit is trying too hard?” you ask her and she analyzes you once more before you enter the bar. “no, you look perfect, now, when we go in i’ll introduce you to some nice guys.”

the regret soon filled your body once you walk through the doors, eyes from all around are looking straight at you. considering no one was dressed up this much, you became an eye sore and your roommate noticed your insecurities. “2 tequilas please.” she basically screamed, trying to speak louder than the music.

“alright everyone, next up is a local underground singer by the name of lee jooyeon.” a man over the mic on stage welcomed.

you turn your attention to the stage when you hear soft strums of a guitar playing and a beautiful voice singing ‘creep’ by radiohead. it was one of your favorite songs so you were mesmerized how he sang every key perfectly.

“lee jooyeon..” you whisper to yourself then your eyes squint to see better. “oh my god, that’s the neighbor.” you nudge your friend and she turns to face the stage, “let’s get closer to make sure.” the two of you find a table that was close enough to see him, but not close enough for him to see you and both confirm it was definitely jooyeon when you see the familiar tattoos littering his arms.

“can he be any more dreamy?” you ask, looking doe eyed at him on stage, not realizing a man sat next to you at the table, “hey pretty.” he smirks with confidence and you just ignore him, eyes stuck on jooyeon. he clears his throat and says it louder, “hey pretty!!” at that moment jooyeon finished the song and the whole bar heard the man next to you yelling.

your face got red when you hear laughs, then look up at the stage where jooyeon has his eyebrow raised with a smirk. the man was also embarrassed, walking away from your roommate and you.

“i’m leaving,” you mumble to your roommate but she grabs your wrist, “your crush is here and you’re leaving? you didn’t even know his name until tonight, i call that progress.” she was right so you sit back down, looking around to keep an eye out for jooyeon.

the tequila finally caught up with you after 4 more shots and you go to the dance floor when an up beat song starts playing, dancing by yourself with no care in the world. the promise your roommate made about not leaving your side was out the window, she was currently making out with a random man in a booth and you knew she was taking him home.

all thoughts about jooyeon or socializing weren’t a care to you right now, your main priority was dancing with a tequila in your hand and feeling the music. “hey pretty…” your face scrunched when you hear the familiar words and turn around to tell the man to leave you alone but you didn’t realize how close he was to you.

the feeling of breath on your neck made your body jolt and when your eyes met, it wasn’t the random guy trying to hit on you. it was jooyeon.

“may i dance with you?” he asks politely but before you could answer he held you by the hips, swaying to the music. “you’re-i’m- jooyeon.” was all you mustered out and he chuckles, pulling you closer. “i know who i am, who are you?” he smirks, taking a sip of the drink he had. “oh, my name is [Y/N].”

his head nods and his lips go close to your ear, “nice to meet you, you look really sexy in that outfit.” your face turns plum red, which he noticed of course and you put your free hand on his moist neck. “you look really sexy with your shirt off.” you whisper back, the tequila giving you all the confidence. “how would you know?” jooyeon asks and you didn’t answer, grinding slowly on his imprint.

his head hangs back so his entire neck was exposed and it gives you room to kiss his adams apple. “we just met and i already like your style.” he mumbles in your ear, then leans down to give your lips a hard kiss.

it was euphoric to finally feel what jooyeon’s lips taste like and the moans escaping his mouth when you press your knee down on his growing dick through his pants. pulling away was hard, but you wanted to look in his eyes as you were dry humping him in front of everyone.

the lip bite he did from trying not to moan was sexier than him actually making noises so you continue, looking down to see his cock outline. “you’re huge.” you mumble in his ear and he kisses your neck roughly. “should we take this somewhere else?” you nod and grab his hand, leading him towards an empty bathroom.

when the music was just background noise now you lock the door and turn to see his long frame in the light, walking towards you. “i can tell you’re excited too.” he says bluntly, the both of you looking down at the wet spot you left on his thigh.

a smile grows on your face and you start laughing, “feeling your big cock against my pussy made me wet, it’s natural.” within seconds he had you up against the wall by the neck and you hum slightly. “are you going to fuck me now?” you ask in a rhetorical manner, hearing him grunt lowly.

“get on the sink counter.” he orders without question, watching you climb up. “let me see what panties you’re wearing.” he mumbles, pulling off your skirt to see nothing underneath. “oh you came to the bar expecting to be fucked huh?” jooyeon asks, pulling your legs towards him so he could bend down and give your pussy a kiss.

“i was going to find the sexiest guy in the bar and let him fuck me until i lose vision.” you moan out when he starts sucking on your clit, a hand finding his hair so you had something to grip.

the way he works his tongue was like magic, he seems to know exactly where all your sweet spots are, and the more you moan, the rougher he is with his movements. “please fuck me jooyeon.” you’re becoming impatient and want to cum on his dick instead of in his mouth. “i thought you wanted the sexiest guy in the bar to fuck you baby,” he smirks and stands up, sliding two fingers immediately in your wetness.

“fuck the bar, you’re the sexiest guy i’ve ever seen.” you whimper when he starts pumping fast. “say it again.” he demands, his fingers never losing momentum. “you’re the sexiest guy jooyeon!” the words only made his fingers go faster, then adding a third. “again.” you scream out when he adds the third finger and he pushes them hard. “i said again.” “you’re the sexiest guy in the world.” you whimper out, a strange feeling in your gut approached and the smirk on his face scared you for what was about to happen.

three more pumps of his fingers you let out a blood curdling scream and he pulls all digits out, then fiercely rubs your clit. “good girl, you’re such a good girl.” he whispers in your ear out of breath and your hips jolt up, squirting on his hand.

you two sit there for a minute, him still slowly rubbing your clit. “i can’t believe that came out of me, i’ve never done that before.” you were pleased and surprised at how much was on the floor when you look down with your legs still spread.

“you can ask me to do that anytime you want, all i have to do is walk across the street. it’s better than just staring at me through your window.” jooyeon says with a confident laugh, helping you off the counter. “you knew? why didn’t you tell me?” you scoff, fixing your skirt so it wasnt at your waist anymore. “the same reason you didn’t tell me, it would’ve been better if we just pretended not to know each other. why else would i only come outside shirtless? i wanted to impress you.”

jooyeon gives you a kiss and you pout, looking at his still hard cock through his pants. “i didn’t get to please you though..” he wraps an around your shoulders and walks out of the bathroom, “you’ll have to come over tonight and make it up to me then.”

you can tell you’ll be having fun with jooyeon the entire night.

[vanyatas]

Your Jeff and Toby Hcs are amazing!! Could you write some for Homicidal Liu?? Would love to read how you portrait him!! :D

HELLO ANON ID LOVEEE TO DO THIS!! I’m so sorry if they’re a bit short, i haven’t seen much of him in so long but he used to be one of my favs 😭

HOMICIDAL LIU HCS:

GENERAL HCS:

6’2.

Reserved, Very polite when he’s fronting, I see him being very shy.

Punk/Grunge music all the way.

Something about him not enjoying old gen emo music because of Jeff sticks with me.

He doesn’t entirely hate Jeff, I just know he is holding onto things from his brother seriously fucking him up.

DID, PTSD, & Anxiety

When Sully takes over he probably doesn’t remember anything Sully does or says at all.

Nirvana, Nine Inch Nails, Soundgarden, Alice In Chains, Foo Fighters, Radiohead, Green Day, Pixies, Pearl Jam, Screaming Trees, Stone Temple Pilots, The Distillers, Dead Kennedys, Circle Jerks (😭) ethusiast!

Scratches at his neck when he gets anxious.

Keeps his hair layered cut, short brown hair!

Kind of scene hair, he doesn’t like to think of it like that, it’s just the layers man.

Heterochromia, Brown and green!!

Liu is a complete angel when he’s is fronting, i like to think he’s very kind and sweet to everyone he’s friends with.

6 Years older than Jeff.

Sully does not like Jeff whatsoever.

ROMANTIC HCS:

He is such a gentleman compared to Sully pls 😭.

Offers you his jacket if you’re cold.

Brushes the hair out of your face.

WILL Stare at your features for hours on end.

He would be SO in love with you.

Even if he doesn’t hate Jeff, I personally think he wouldn’t want you around him too much.

Sully agrees with this 100%.

ACTUALLY he would probably make sure you weren’t anywhere in a 10 foot radius of that emo freak.

Sully likes you just as much as.

He might not be as sweet and romantic but he makes it his goal to make you feel loved in some way.

Liu will lay his head in your lap.

He will also come to you whenever he feels as if everything is getting to him too much.

Brushes your hair up with his hand so he can kiss your forehead.

hello gang i’m so sorry if i interpreted this so strange.. i haven’t written for liu/sully EVER, feel free to let me know if i did something WRONG, BUT HERE YOU GUYS GO!!!

[pancakepieman25]

Gifts I'm Giving Out

My daughter Art: Socks, a pet rock, two pounds of salt blessed by the god Geytl, A portable DVD player, WALL-E on DVD with extra content, a 20 gaude shotgun, a few candles, a dream catcher, a G.I.Joe action figure, a suit that I stole from some rich prick, a suitcase full of "fake" money, The Blues Brothers on DVD, a couple of shotgun shells, and a baseball cap.

Gabe: A card saying "Find a healthy hobby, and I hope your transition goes well," a cook book, a pack of smokes, a book about addiction, and a German style clock that is counterclockwise.

Pixy: A new car, and a MP40.

Zai: A mug saying "Best Mother" with an added thing on the side of it in marker, "Please don't hurt me."

Ell: Screw you

Waffle: A ticket to an Asylum, and an "Adult content" addiction group. And yes I have the police coming for you at this moment.

Daisy: A rock

Ultra: Paint supplies I random found in a car.

Unpleasant: A week supply of mac and cheese, a cook book, and 30 bucks.

Max: A note book, a pen, a candle, 30 different rituals and a lighter.

Cin: Beef jerky, six pounds of beef, a chicken (Alive, I call her Ted), 5 pounds of seeds, and pet toys.

Embro: A Luger I found in a rich prick house, a box of nails, a 2x4, hammer, a German World War II helmet, some gold coins and a pack of cigarettes.

Jesse: A DVD with of all of the episodes of Jessie (Use for only torture or boredom), a fine set of cigars I found from a rich prick, gold plated lighter, and a picture of a dog smoking a old timey pipe.

Rose: A book of how to win wars and meet people.

Radiohead: Another fine suit I stole from rich prick, a random book I found in German, and a pocket knife.

Cult (Sorry I forgot your new name): A book call "Maria on the Moon," another is "Stolen Tongues," and reading glasses.

Grat:

Lenora: A lantern (Heard you have a moth problem), a fish tank with a living habitat in it, and a book about bugs.

Seth: A plush of a yellow lookin' rat (From this series call Poke e men), a box of crayons, socks, and a dummy (His name is Billy).

Nore: A gold coin, a knife I'm pretty sure was used to skin cows (I don't know where I got it), Some flowers, flowerpots, and a watering can. (Yes, I stole from my old job, and no I don't regret it.)

Foolerene: A painting of a beautiful tree and barn house, an magical eyeball (Use when sick), and an ancient stone carver.

Cookie Star: A butter knife, and some swimming goggles.

Huzzah!!!: A gun (I don't really know you, don't worry, it's a glock 18)

Chip: A box of C4, baking trays, cookie cook book, and a wooden roller that I heard can do the job for you, but never seen it happen.

Unus: This German tank model, and this (I'm pretty sure is) 1940s German propaganda.

Rainbowxocs: A bunch of horror stories, a lamp, another fine suit, and a rock.

Lancia: A sword, bow, a bunch of arrows, a horse named Pal, and a picture of a rock.

Midnight Moon: Two tickets to a Dave Matthews Band show, bandage, a plush of a seal, and a life size model of a seal.

Xuan: A typewriter that is in German, a gold plated pen, and a whole lot of letters.

Art's mother: A session with a group of parents that abuse their kids, I know that this seems mean and a joke, but I want you to do better for your kid. Please go to it, Art needs her mother.

[lambilegs]

does it happen in a season? (part one: FALL)

in her senior year of university, lee is ready for nothing more but yet another monotonous cycle of meeting her new roommate, adjusting, then living in separate spheres for the rest of the year. the last thing she's prepared for is: curiosity.

next chapter (WINTER)

soundtrack: lapit - yeng constantiono; thinking about you - radiohead; whisper - piggy (specifically the subway scene); knuckle velvet - ethel cain; reflecting light - sam phillips; fade into you - mazzy star

(contains: college!au lee harker, set in the nineties, slowburn as FUCK cannot even exaggerate, 10.3K of y'all literally just achieving acquaintanceship, lots of pining. content warning for: brief mention of blood (can be interpreted as period blood or otherwise), weed, religion jokes, brief conversation about serial killers + motivations, anxiety)

----

AUTUMN. SOMETIME IN THE 1990s.

lee isn’t looking forward to this month. it’s her last year of university, so she knows she ought to be feeling a little more optimistic. but, truly, all she’s feeling is the dread of having to meet and adapt to a new roommate – a process which can span from a few weeks to an entire semester, depending on the person. back when she was a freshman, she was convinced that by the time she reached senior year, she’d have gotten used to this. but, no, it feels just as daunting and uncomfortable as usual. maybe even worse. when she was a freshman, her only experience of a housemate had been her mom. now, four years later, her experiences with roommates had spanned from mediocre to downright unbearable. so, maybe that’s what has soured her expectations.

when she meets you, she’s in the middle of assembling her desk, on her knees and lip bitten in concentration. you had arrived a week earlier than her, and had already set up most of your things. on the phone, you told her that all you needed was to finally bring in your clothes, and, well, yourself. 

she doesn’t really know what to think of you. you greet her, introduce yourself and smile when she gives you her name. after asking her if she needs help with her desk, you waddle on your feet for a bit, clutching onto your bag, an awkward silence flooding into the room. she ignores it, focusing on the task at hand, pointedly avoiding eye contact with you. she’s already feeling the tension of the silence seeping into her, and she doesn’t really want let it expand through silently staring at each other.

after a few seconds, she hears the soft thumps of your footsteps as you walk away, and lets out a breath of relief. at least the first meeting is done with, and now, you two can live in what will hopefully be in amicable quiet.

–

you shut the door, back braced against it. god, your roommate is hot. you’re not exactly sure what to do with this information. surely, even if you manage to discover whether or not she’s into women, you can’t do anything about it. you’re certain there's some sort of unspoken rule to not romantically pursue your roommate – not that a lot of people follow that. or maybe you just move in some really weird circles.

you pad over to your bed, the distance barely anything with how small your bedroom is. flopping onto the mattress, you stare up at the ceiling. class starts in a matter of days, and while part of you eagerly welcomes in the comforting cycle of the school year, you can’t help but itch and yearn for the summer days. nothing but familiarity wrapping around you, it was a time where you didn’t have to worry about what’s new, what’s to come, anything like that. now, autumn is creeping in and already, you’re overwhelmed and unsettled by all that’s new. this itchy bedsheet, the new pattern of your comforter, the thin and white walls… your new roommate. 

reaching for your walkman, you plug in your headphones, lying back on the bed. stomach heaving, you suck in a long, deep breath, eyes fluttering shut. the muscle rises and falls, and you try to sink into a world of daydreams. daydreams of good things – acing your assignments, making friends, hell, maybe even getting a girlfriend. 

maybe.

—

lee isn’t used to it. the domestic intimacy that comes with having a roommate, despite being total strangers. sometimes, she nearly forgets the intimacy of sharing a home until she has no choice but to face it head on. like, when she’s eating breakfast in the morning, and you come out in your PJs. yesterday, you were someone whose name she only heard for the first time. and now, she knows exactly what cartoon you grew up on because of the print on your soft, fuzzy pants. yesterday, she only just saw your face for the first time, and today, your toothbrushes are sitting together in the same holder, your skincare products are crowded together next to the sink, and your colourful mugs are sitting next to her plain white ones in the cupboard.

it’s been less than twenty-four hours, and already, she knows what you look like when tired in the morning. you’re standing near her, yawning, wiping at your bleary, wet eyes, as she glances between you and her reading, sipping tentatively on her coffee.

“good morning,” you mumble, making your way to the fridge and getting out some eggs.

she hums a small “mm” in response, right hand carefully making annotations. a moment later, she swallows hard, a memory flashing through her head. her second year roommate joking about her unfriendliness in front of five of their friends who lee didn't know. lee doesn’t mean to be, she really doesn’t. she simply isn’t inclined to converse with strangers, and undergo all the social rituals of that. but, still, she doesn’t want to come off as rude, especially since you seem fairly okay as of now. “morning.”

you nod at the papers in front of her, lips curling up. “already getting started?”

she nods. “yeah, might as well.”

“what’s your major?”

she sucks in a tiny breath. okay, so it seems like work will be taking a momentary pause. she sets her pen down. “criminology.”

“oh,” you coo, cracking two eggs into the pan. “and what are you hoping to do with that?”

her eyebrows furrow. do you mean her plan for pursuing the major, or what she intends to do post-graduation? “after university?”

at your nod, she pauses. she’s been asked this hundreds of times. virtually any peer of hers who she encounters and speaks to for the first time asks her as such -- it seems to be an innate part of small talk between students. but, still, she can’t help but hesitate every time. her goal seems like such a faraway dream, and one that not a lot of people associate her with. she’s always been the quiet person, the one who everyone finds either unassuming or off-putting. the image of her that people have doesn’t seem to bode well with a job as chivalrous or active as someone in law enforcement. but, she’s not in it to socialize or be perceived as brave. her reasoning is a lot more literal to the job. perhaps that makes it less interesting of an approach, but it's the truth.

quietly, she answers. “work in law enforcement. maybe in the FBI, as a special agent.”

you tilt your head at her, eyes wide, but not holding judgement. “wow, that’s pretty cool. what made you interested in that line of work?”

she blinks at your, well, pretty neutral response. she was half-expecting some snarky comment, or disinterested wave-off, so she feels her shoulders momentarily loosen at your cool, friendly response. “um…” she tries stilling her thoughts, going back to your question. eyes zoned in on her work, for the idea of answering so honestly while staring at you is too uncomfortable for her liking, she finally speaks. “I was tired of seeing and hearing about horrible things, and having no way to help. I want to help give people closure and answers.” she thinks of her mother. the kind of people who sometimes visited their home and lurked around, knowing there was no man there to protect them. the fear that’d darken her mother’s eyes when she heard a car drive up their curb at night. the way lee's mother would clutch onto her, her own daughter, so many nights, almost as though at nine, lee was brave enough to defend her.

the one time things got bad, when lee's mom wasn't there to hold her. when she had to run out of lee's room to reach the phone. lee grits her teeth, willing the memory to go away.

she didn’t want such fear to exist in other homes, not if she can help it.

but, she doesn’t tell you this. you’re nice, yeah, but she isn’t nearly at enough ease with you to confide in something so deeply webbed into her subconscious. even with her closest companions, she often isn’t sure how to go about it. 

“that’s very noble,” you say, with a kind, earnest smile. at least, it looks earnest to her. “that’s really admirable, lee.”

her eyes are downcast, and she gives a firm nod. she doesn’t think her desire for the job is particularly noble. it’s just her way of using her skills to try and do something helpful. that’s all. so, she doesn’t know what to say in response to your words.

thankfully, you turn back around and continue cooking, so she doesn’t need to figure it out.

–

lee, you’ve learned, is meticulous. and very neat. your first few days in your shared apartment are spent (by both of you) in an array of sweatpants, t-shirts and hoodies. but, as soon as school starts, you really see her in her element. it’s all sharp collars, muted tones, solid colours and smart shoes. the first time you return home from your 8:00AM class, she’s just finished getting ready, and you feel yourself blush, of all damn things, over the sight of her. maybe she notices, but you can’t tell for the life of you, for all you receive from her is a small nod of acknowledgement and a quiet departure. as you watch her leave, her backpack devoid of any pins or patches, you sigh, sagging against the wall. does she even like you? is she as curious of you as you are about her?

it’s not just attraction that’s causing this itch to know her. it’s the way she acts. sometimes, she just zones out, her inquisitive eyebrows drawn in and eyes almost faded and lost. lost in what, you can’t tell. she sometimes sits on your guys’ couch, staring blankly ahead, clearly not focused on whatever channel she’s randomly landed on. it’s like her mind is filled with thoughts, and she’s just victim to the all-consuming hold they have on her. or maybe she likes it. maybe she’s one of those people who could feel sufficiently entertained by her own thoughts for hours. maybe that’s why she likes her time alone.

sometimes, you see her on campus, walking through the humanities buildings. she’s usually with the same two friends, and it’s almost odd to see her so at ease. with them, she’s actually smiling, teeth shining. the first time you see it, you nearly have to gulp at the blinding light of it. lee transforms when she smiles. that face, so soft and doe-like at the eyes, but so hard-edged at the tense jaw, turns into some blissful beam of light when she smiles. she has laugh lines – god, you’ve lived with her for three weeks now and didn’t even know that. they deepen and dimple at the corners of her mouth when she smiles, and her cheeks lift, and her teeth feel almost foreign to look at with how clamped up her mouth usually is. you have to shake yourself from the silent gazing, suddenly feeling embarrassed and creepy.

you also feel rather embarrassed at the distance between the two of you. you’re not ignorant to the dynamics of roommates – you know the two of you aren’t required to be best friends or attached at the hip. but, you two barely ever talk. you’d like to, but she just doesn’t seem interested. and you also feel bad to intervene on her alone time. when she’s sitting on the couch during her occasional and spaced out appearances from her bedroom, usually doing some work or watching the 10:00PM showing of Murder She Wrote, she tenses up when you rest on the arm of the couch, drinking a soda. when you enter the kitchen and she’s munching on a granola bar (she’s awful at eating regularly), her eyes skitter from you to the counter, never able to hold eye contact. do you just force your presence onto her? it seems a bit inconsiderate. do you keep your space and let her come to you? it seems if you do that, she’ll be content to never speak to you.

does she hate you? you can't tell even if you let your mind explore such a bleak possibility.

—

lee hates the subway. the crowds, the relentless shoving and pushing, the buzz of loud conversation, which is always intercepted by a random shout or curse. whenever she makes her way down the steps, and sees a swarm of people already poised for its arrival, she usually lingers at the top, waiting for them to board the train that arrives before making her way down, content to wait for the succeeding one. even if it means she comes late to class, she engages in this little ritual everyday. anything to avoid the chest-tightening discomfort of being pushed into a tight wedge of bodies.

so, she lingers at the top of the steps, leaning on the wall, peering down at the crowd. from this view, her eyes scan all the faces blurring together. she wonders if she can make somewhat accurate guesses as to where each of them are heading to. she’s caught with the onslaught of awareness that they probably have a life to return to that’s just as complicated as hers. one that they might be dreading, or celebrating, to return to once they exit the the numbing whirl of the train. she wonders if they can tell where she’s headed to. does she look unassuming?

a bump to her shoulder jolts her out of her thoughts, and she turns to find you standing there, smiling at her. she blinks, suddenly losing her ability to formulate whatever morsels of conversation she usually distributes to you. it’s a bit surreal to see you outside of your guys’ shared dorm -- it’s probably the first time she has. you seem, she can't tell, glad to see her? at least that’s how it seems based on your smile. or perhaps you’re just polite.

“hi,” you greet, a breathless laugh flowing from your lips. “I ran to catch up with you. you walk like you’re on a mission or something.”

she opens her mouth before closing it. after a long pause hanging between you two, your expectant eyes making her clear her throat, she says, “you could’ve just called after me.”

“I was just worried you wouldn’t hear.” you peer down the steps. “are you heading to the apartment right now?”

the apartment. it was almost assuring, to know you also hadn’t found it to be a home just yet. she still feels unsettled in the place, the shattered routine of her time in oregon during summer break still having its impacts on her. “yeah.” 

“me too.” you cock your head at her. “shall we?”

she eyes the platform, filled to the brink. she doesn’t want to go, not at all. but, she also doesn’t want to undergo the vulnerability of confessing to you why she doesn’t want to go. so, she nods, hoping this goes by painlessly. 

when you two enter the packed platform, bodies beginning to softly thud against her, she immediately starts feeling it. the twist in her stomach, the tension bracing her shoulders. her hands roll into fists, and her nostrils flare as she sucks in a deep breath. it’s hot, god, so hot in this space, and the itch it causes on her neck makes her blink hard, the sensation only adding to her growing discomfort. as more people are filing in, the crowd growing larger due to a delay in the subway, she feels herself getting stifled more. pushed in, entrapped, ceaselessly and endlessly surrounded, just as she was in her mother’s home. she continues to take sharp, deep inhales, trying to soothe herself.

“are you okay?”

her head sharply snaps in your direction, having nearly forgotten of your presence. she nods, not wanting to speak. but, then, she feels your fingers brushing against her wrist, right above the first watch she ever bought for herself two years ago. and your tone is soft. “you sure?”

she leans away from your touch. it’s not doing anything to ease the tension in her body right now. she doesn’t want to be touched, doesn’t like it. at least not from someone she barely knows. 

you seem to recognize this, pulling away. “do you wanna head back up?”

she shakes her head, ears catching onto the familiar ringing of the train approaching. “I’m okay.” her voice is hard, firm, but you both know it’s a lie.

the train flashes into sight, a mix of grey and yellow as it whirls past her eyes, slowing down until it's halted to a full stop and the doors slide open. immediately, she feels the weight of bodies against her backpack, pushing her towards the door. her heaving breaths become faster, and her body feeling rigid, almost like a child who has lost their parent in the monotonous aisles of the grocery store.

you’re a pace ahead of her, and you turn back, eyebrows furrowed. you look like you want to say something, and she stares at your shoulder, which is dusted with freckles and pimples, waiting. her gaze lowers when you stretch out your hand, fingers curled towards her. your eyes are wide, and you loudly speak over the crowd. “only if you want.”

in the heat of the moment, the crowd pushing in on her even more, beginning to take you away from her, she doesn’t even think twice before grabbing onto your hand. it’s warm, a bit damp, and she clutches onto it like a lifeline. 

you lead her through the crowd, your grip tight and secure. at one point, too many people curl into your guys’ little bubble and you get pulled away from her, your interlocked hands and straining arms the only connection keeping you two intact. people shove into you, urging you to move forward, an act that would require you to let go of her. but, you don’t. your latch onto her hand and freeze, keeping your stance on the ground until she’s able to weave her way to you. someone curses as they walk past you, irritated at you for holding up the rolling wave of people, and she sees you you glare sharply at them, remaining still. 

when lee finally manages to slide through between two people, you continue holding on, tugging her into and through the narrow space of the train. her breathing is shaky, and she’s certain you can feel the insistent thrumming and tapping of her fingers on the back of your hand. she tenses up further when you continue guiding her through the crowd. god, why couldn’t you guys have just remained in one spot?

you continue dragging her along like a limp doll, and she forgets what it’s like to feel at ease in her own body. 

you slow down, and she realizes it’s because you found a cart that’s a bit looser, a bit emptier than the ones you two had walked through prior. you continue cradling her hand in yours, raising your entwined fingers to a pole and slowly letting go, coaxing her to hold onto it, patting her hand gently when she does. she gulps down at the kind gesture, gripping onto the pole. for the first time since you two moved in together, she feels gratitude for you.

she doesn’t know what to say. you took care of her in these few minutes, and she doesn’t know how to deal with that. it was rare for someone so estranged from her to show her such consideration, even in such a subtle way. years ago, she had reconciled with the idea that she was one of those people who had to be known intimately to be cared for. she wasn’t used to this… distanced type of caring. 

you raise your arm up, reaching to hold onto the handle dangling above. she catches a glance of the thick fuzz of your armpit hair and immediately turns away, feeling her face heat up. how stupid. she’s pulled your hair out of the drain before, she’s seen the stain of your blood on the toilet bowl, she’s smelled your morning breath. and she’s over here getting flustered from your armpit hair? she forces her eyes to scan the map plastered on the wall, rereading the same stops she’s already committed to memory in her three years commuting.

and then, the other thing she’s memorized rings in her ears.

“apologies to commuters – we are experiencing a delay due to some trouble on the tracks.”

and the train slowly screeches to a halt, the rumbling ceasing.

she sighs. of course.

– 

you two find a corner by the window to slide into. she steps back, letting you go first, and your lip quirks up at her politeness, shifting into the window seat. she gingerly sits next to you, legs pressed together, her hands twisting in her lap. when the silence starts wrapping you two, she begins inspecting her nails, lips lining together in a tight line. your mouth curls into a smile, eyes skipping to her hands. her fingers are long, knuckles curved and bumpy. her nails, just like every other part of her, are neat -- finely trimmed. you swallow. is she a lesbian? god, you wanna know. you know it’s not the type of question that’s appropriate to ask, so you hold your tongue. maybe you can investigate further when you guys are closer. if you guys ever get closer.

you pat your lips together, the silence starting to feel embarrassing with all the people conversing around you guys. you look at her, and you can see her gaze flick to you from the corner of her eye. “what class did you have today?

she blinks at the seat in front of both of you. “women in crime. it’s a class on female serial killers.”

you bark out a laugh. she says it so matter-of-factly, her tone flat and impassive. when she blinks at you in question, your laughter dies out, a stab of guilt piercing your chest. jesus, she finally shared something and you just had to laugh. “sorry, I just… you state it very plainly.”

her eyes momentarily skip away before returning to you. “was I supposed to embellish?”

the urge to laugh itches at your throat, feeling that she might be joking with you now. “yes, where is your sense of flourish?”

her mouth twitches. not exactly a smile, but enough to ignite an ember of pride in your chest. 

you lean into your seat, crossing your arms over your chest. it seems you two would be here for a while – might as well get comfortable. “so, what are you enjoying about the class?”

she gulps, as though the question were a vulnerable one to answer. she was so intriguing – what did she have to be worried about with such a casual inquiry? “there are a lot of theories about the expectations on women causing the rage involved in such violence. I found that an interesting take.”

“do you agree with it?”

her eyebrow twitches, and she stares at a stain on the seat in front of you two. “I think the ability to do something like that depends on a lot of factors. I don’t think it’s possible to only pinpoint and stick to one.”

you nod. it’s a practical, logical answer – very fitting to lee. “but, still, do you?” you press, curiosity burning through you.

her shoulders lift momentarily as a shaky breath runs through her nostrils. “yeah. I do. I’ve seen what fear and resentment can lead to. it might be far-fetched, but I could see it leading to worse. not just in women, but anyone.”

your eyes drink her in. god, what had she been through to arrive at such a conclusion, one that clearly contained so much of her own private contemplation? a pang of sympathy knocked on your heart. maybe she looked so lost sometimes because there was something that kept pulling her back. “I get that.”

after silence sizzles and grows between you two, the suffocating smoke of it making you shift in discomfort, she speaks, her voice making you jerk in surprise. “and you? what class… did you have?”

she says the question slowly, as though it strains her to speak it, and you wonder again – does she like you? tolerate you? 

you answer, anyways. it feels embarrassing to admit, even to yourself, but even if she’s just forcing herself to speak to you out of pure circumstance and manners, you still want to seize the opportunity to talk to her, dig into her mind. “I had a mythology course.”

her head tilts in your direction, and you know you’ve caught her attention. “professor khan’s class?”

your eyebrows furrow. “yeah. are you in it?”

she shakes her head. “no. my friend is. I couldn’t fit it into my schedule, so she lets me look at her notes sometimes.”

you giggle. “what, so you can mark them?”

she blinks at your joking remark. “no. I just find the content interesting.”

a smile cracks on your face. she really is a little nerd, isn’t she? you know she’s taking a full course load, and still, she was going out of her way to read content that wasn’t necessary. as you absorb her words, an idea struck you, and suddenly, you feel like you never left high school. “you can borrow my notes too, you know?”

her lips press together, the corners pinching up as she gives you a small nod. “thanks.” one of her hands massaged the other, and she peers at you from the corner of your eye. “so, what was this week’s class on?”

“different myths on the origins of the world.”

she seems to digest your words before speaking. “did you… do you believe in any of them?”

you laughed softly. “no, not really. I do think they’re fascinating, though. they’re all so different. and I think it says something about us as humans.”

her head leans in your direction, and something flutters in your stomach at her curiosity. “what does it say?”

“I don’t know, that we all want an explanation for why we’re here? we all want something to believe in, something to rely on to make sense of the world.”

she takes a few moments to reply. “we’re all just curious for answers at the end of the day, aren’t we? or desperate.”

“desperate?”

she nods. “it’s hard to be fully apathetic. everything we research, delve into, continue pursuing no matter how much information already exists on it… isn’t it because we’re either genuinely curious or because we need some, I don’t know, reassurance? so we feel less lost.”

“do you feel lost?”

the question is out before you can even process the implications, or impacts, of it. but, you don’t even have it in you to take it back. once it’s out, you crave her answer.

her shoulders tense up, eyes shifting to your knee, blinking hard. her jaw clenches, and after a long minute of silence, she says, “yeah. all the time.”

–

the next time lee sees you, it’s at a place worse than the subway station. it’s a party. her friends have dragged her along, and it was also an excuse she could latch onto to justify not visiting her mom – one of many, really. she couldn’t help but have felt guilty when she called her mom on the landline the day before, saying she wouldn’t spend the fall break with her, attributing the decision to both her studies and social events, like this one. it helped that ruth encouraged her to socialize more, something that made her feel both relieved and infinitely guilty in her excuses.

you two run into each other at the drinks’ table, hands both outstretched for some soda. when you look up and catch sight of her, you scoff in disbelief, and she feels a sense of embarrassment wash over. you knew she was going out tonight, she had told you as much, but she’s certain this was the last place you had expected to see her.

when you voice as much, she shrugs, grabbing a Sprite. your shock isn’t unwarranted. she spends most nights in, and when she does notify you about going out with her friends, she’ll usually mention the cafes or quiet bars they frequent. not to mention, you’ve brought up, and on three occasions, have invited her to, these kinds of things, but she has always politely rejected. as she clicks open the can, her mind lingers on the possibility of you being offended at seeing her here after her rejection of your invites. it’s not personal, she was just tired of her friends wailing for her to at least try a party, so she gave in. but, she wonders if you’ll take it the wrong way.

it doesn’t seem so, for you’re grabbing a soda and easily smiling at her, as usual. but, she wonders if your smile is genuine, her eyes studying your face. when you turn to her again, she looks away, the corner of her mouth twitching in discomfort. god, she needs to be more subtle. 

“are you here alone, or…?” 

she shakes her head, glancing into the living room. “my friends are in there, dancing.”

your lip quips up into a smirk. “why don’t you join them?”

a small huff leaves from her nose. “I don’t think there’s enough alcohol in the world that can convince me to do that.” the mere idea of dancing in public feels mortifying to her. god, she can’t even dance in private, it feels that awkward and foreign to her.

you nod at her soda. “not that it seems like you’re even having much.”

she takes a sip from it. “yeah, well, I don’t drink.”

your eyebrows shoot up. “oh? why not?”

it’s not the first time she’s received such a reaction. she knows it isn’t the most common thing to be her age, a university student, and never drink. but, she has her reasons. she pauses, deliberating if she wants to share them with you. ever since your guys’ encounter on the subway, she’s felt as though you guys have crossed a sort of threshold. perhaps it was because you saw cracks in her reservations for once. but, whatever it was, something in her felt a bit looser with you now. 

she relents, sighing. “I was raised religious, so that stuff was never in the house, and, well, I don’t like the feeling of being out of control.”

you nod. “catholic?”

she immediately feels the tightness balling at her shoulders. it’s just a question, she knows that. but, the mention of it, and all it means to her, all the weight it still forces her to carry on her shoulders, is sometimes akin to a tidal wave that tips her over. “uh, yeah.”

you hum in response. a moment later, you say, your tone light, “never wanted to see what kind of drunk you are?”

the implication causes her mouth to widen with the itch to smile. it’s not often that such an urge surges through her, but she lets it slowly spread, hiding it behind a sip of the soda can. will you think her smile is weird due to its infrequency? 

“just because I don’t drink doesn’t mean I’ve never tried it.”

you chortle in delight, smacking her arm, which sends her tensing. “okay, so, what kind of drunk are you? emotional, clingy, horny…”

she can’t help it. a muscle in her jaw pulses at your successful guess, and she blinks in surprise when you seem to register her change in expression, your eyes widening and pointer finger jabbing in her direction with a gasp.

“oh my god, you’re a horny drunk, aren’t you?”

she sighs, looking away and continuing to sip on her drink. you were correct, of course. but, she didn’t need to let you know that. just because she was a smidge more comfortable with you doesn’t mean she needs to reveal every secret up her sleeve. besides, the last thing she needs is her roommate discovering just how high her sex drive is when intoxicated.

without warning, the last thought springs forward a litany of lewd images that has her nearly shaking her head to try to rid herself of them.

thankfully, your relentless curiosity gives her a modicum of distraction. “oh, c’mon, tell me.”

she rolls her eyes, muttering, “why do you care?”

you shrug innocently. “no reason… though, I guess it would pan out. repressed christian and all.”

at your slightly joking words, she blinks at her drink, amusement bubbling in her. you have a point. while her mother and her rarely broached the topic during her adolescence, there were the occasional conversations that have remained drilled into her head since. she had known since she hit puberty that sex was meant to exist in the sanctity, the apparent purity, of marriage. well, it isn’t something she knows now – she was sure something had to be a fact in order for her to truly consider it a piece of knowledge she can absorb. but, regardless, that, and her own personal social awkwardness, had made her spend years empty of intimacy, the anxiety of sinning weighing heavily upon her mind. when she had her first kiss with a girl in high school, she had spent days feeling a deep sense of shame, like there was an invisible force frowning upon her. she couldn’t even face her mom for the rest of the day. it was only when she started university, and escaped her small, grey town in oregon, did something finally spark back in her.

she clears her throat, crawling back out of her thoughts. something hangs on the tip of her tongue, and she itches to say it. she doesn’t know why exactly, but part of her wants you to know. “repressed lesbianism does that too.”

your head darts to her, and she nearly winces. was that too direct? she knows you won’t judge. you have a rainbow flag patch ironed onto your backpack, and she knows you’re a part of the Gay and Lesbian Alliance organization on campus. but, perhaps it was too much of herself to reveal to you. maybe you weren’t interested, maybe you didn’t really want to know her.

“you’re a lesbian?”

her mouth twists, suddenly uncomfortable with the focus on her. “yes.” she turns to you, eyes wide. “and you’re gay too, aren’t you?” she knows, at least based on what her friends have said, that it’s impolite to ask such a question, but she assumes it’s okay given how open you are on campus.

you nod, the lines near your eyes crinkling. “yeah. you know, I wondered about you. I’m glad to know my assumptions were right.”

her curiosity is piqued. “what made you think so?”

you smirk. “you have a KD Lang tape.”

her mouth quivers, and for the first time, she laughs.

–

and it’s a glorious thing. white, sharp teeth, usually tucked under her thin lips, finally revealing themselves. her laugh lines, fluttering around the corners of her mouth like wings, are curved and dipping deep into her skin. you can’t tame the beam that spills onto your face from the sight of her laughing. the noise of it is husky, pure velvet trimmed with the faintest rasp, and it makes something warm swim in your abdomen.

a few moments later, you fidget with your pocket, looking at her with a wry, hesitant smile. “listen, I know you want to go into law enforcement, so will you kill me if I smoke a joint?”

she blinks at you blankly. “no.” when you release a relieved laugh at her blunt answer, she adds, “only if you’re up for sharing.”

 and that’s how you wind up sitting together on a porch, sharing a joint. the first time you pass it to her, you feel like a dog, nearly fucking panting at the sight of her lips closing softly over the tip, breathing it in. does she feel the wetness of your saliva on it? does she feel anything at the idea of putting her lips on something yours just touched? the musky scent wraps around both of you, the heat of the joint comforting in the chilled autumn night. crunchy, peach-coloured leaves skip along the street in the breeze, the only noise in the quiet neighbourhood of the hosts, five people who you sure as hell don’t know, and doubt lee does either. 

“I love this song,” you say, turning to the front door, where only the screen door is closed, music flowing through the mesh, streaming into the secluded space of the porch. 

her voice is quiet in the midst of the soft crickets. “what song is it?”

“it’s called Thinking About You by Radiohead.”

“what’s it about?”

you smile gently, touched by her curiosity. you suppose it’s not so unexpected. maybe it’s because she’s so quiet by nature, but you got the sense that she was always listening and soaking in the information surrounding her. like a sort of sponge. “some people say it’s about masturbation.” your eyes flick to her, a wisp of a grin on your face when she swallows hard. “but, I don’t think so. I think it’s about missing someone in a really… aching kind of way. someone who maybe left you, or just happened upon, fame or something better in life. but, really, it’s all fake. or maybe the person just wants it to be fake, because that’s a more comforting idea than admitting maybe someone left you and got something better.”

she doesn’t reply, and the lack of acknowledgement (not even a hum) makes you falter, wondering if she even listened to you. but, then, you see it. her eyebrows are furrowed in focus, and she’s leaning her head in the direction of the door. almost as though she’s straining to listen. it locks into place. she’s trying to listen to the lyrics – for you. the gesture is enough to get you beaming like an idiot, turning your head away from her as you take another drag. 

“it sounds like the person gave up a lot for them.” she watches the lawn, which is littered with a few beer cans and broken bottles. “it’s… sad, isn’t it?”

“yeah, it is.” you frown, the sadness of the song seeping into your mind. it isn’t just sad, it’s devastating. the entire concept of pouring so much into someone, or even having them devote their lives and efforts to you, then all of that crumbling, releases an anxious feeling through your stomach. so much heartache. 

“have you ever been through anything like that?” her voice is so quiet that it’s just teetering on the edge of being a mutter. 

you nearly flinch at the personal question, shock shooting through you. it’s the first time she’s asked you something so invasive. when you dare to look at her, you have to force yourself to keep eye contact with the way her gaze is piercing you. you almost feel that with a singular look, she can open you up and read you with ease.

“well…” you fumble for a few seconds, trying to swim away from the surprise so you can answer. “I suppose with some friends, yeah.”

“what happened?”

you gulp. “well, just situations where we fell out of touch, or something specific happened to end the friendship, and afterwards, just kind of watching their lives from afar, a bit envious. envious that they moved on, curious if their new friends are better than me.”

she’s silent for a few minutes, the air feeling thicker after your confession. by the time you’ve started to tense up, she says, “you seem… like a good friend. even if they find people who they’re happy with, I don’t think it means you were any less of a friend.”

it’s the first compliment she’s ever truly given you, and you wish it was tangible so you could maybe lock it in a box and one day look back on it - the exact moment, word for word, every graze of the breeze present. “thank you.”

she nods.

“and you? have you been through it?” you reach your hand out, loose fingers hugging the joint. 

she gently takes it from you, her careful fingers seeming to avoid touching you. you wish she would. as she breathes it in deeply, lips parting to release a stream of smoke, she mutters, “yeah.”

you give her a questioning stare, waiting for her to continue.

she looks away with a soft inhale. “when I was in high school, I kind of dated this girl. we were seventeen, both realizing we were gay – all of that. the anxiety became too much, and I ended it.” her voice quiets, as though she’s still ashamed – but, it seems to be for something else. “in our senior year, she dated someone else. and I still, you know…” she pauses, briefly meeting your eyes, “liked her. so, I just watched from the side, feeling betrayed that she didn’t wait for me. I felt… hurt.” it seems like she strains to admit to the possession of such a vulnerable emotion, and a part of you aches in gratitude that she shared it with you. “I knew it wasn’t fair. she couldn’t wait forever – and back then, the space between seventeen and going to university felt like forever. but, I was really bitter for a while. and I often wondered how her and her girlfriend were faring.”

a stab of sympathy wrenches in your stomach. breaking up was never easy, but to experience it at seventeen? and it being one’s first gay relationship? you can’t imagine the amount of pain she felt, especially considering the religious upbringing she’s alluded to. “I’m really sorry you went through that. I mean, it makes sense. it was your first relationship, and you have so many hopes for that. it’s all the harder when you’re not out, too.”

she tightly nods. “yeah.” her voice sounds slightly like a forced-out gasp. 

“thank you… for telling me.”

the ghost of a smile appears on her face. “well, you did share your joint. figured I owed you something.”

“oh, I see,” you chuckle. “joint for traumatic story – seems like a fair trade. if only therapy could pick up on that practice.”

she glances at you. “you know, if you’re ever lost after graduation, consulting might work out.”

you laugh, and her eyes dart back to the ground.

a half hour later, you yawn, groggily mumbling, “I kind of want to head home now.” you smile apologetically. “sorry. long week.” the weed has taken its effects on you, leaving your body boneless and relaxed, and all you want to do is curl into bed. but, deep inside you, a part of you wails and protests, wishing to sit on this step with her forever, as though it’s become a sacred place.

 she shakes her head at your apology. “I feel like going too. we can walk together.” she stands up, taking one last hit. you gulp down at the sight. jesus, she looks attractive doing that. her button-up is untucked, and she’s wearing a baggy, dark windbreaker that falls at her wrists. smoking has seemed to relax her in a way you’re not used to, her movements less stiff and flowing more naturally from one into the other. she’s a sight to behold in this state – levelled as always, but free in a way. and watching her long fingers tucked against the joint does something to you – something that only pulses even more when she actually wraps her lips around it.

she hands over the remainder of it. “here, you have it. I’m going to tell my friends we’re leaving.”

we’re leaving. it makes you feel delirious, to be a we with her. you giggle, your sober inhibitions completely removed, and she smiles faintly at your fit. “sounds great.”

she’s still gently smiling, looking down on you. “what’s so funny?”

“no, um, nothing.” you clear your throat, trying to reign in some seriousness, before another giddy laugh erupts from you. “nothing.”

her head shakes gently. her usually light brown hair has darkened under the night sky, and strands of it tickle her cheek from the wind. “you’re crazy.” she wordlessly heads in, quietly muttering, “I'll be back.”

you page your friend, fingers trembling from the moment with lee. she’s probably still making out with her boyfriend, so you write out 7, your guys’ code for “Leaving” because of how the number upside down resembles an L, ending the message with 143. before you had beelined to lee, she had sent you a coy look, playfully patting your arm and saying, “let me know if you get laid.”

but, all you lee and do is walk and take the subway, and it’s more than enough. because you at least get to see her smile, her eyes lazy and half-lidded as she listens to you talk about your least favourite professor.

and that’s enough.

–

the next morning, lee pads into the kitchen to find open packs of Cheetos and Cheerios, limp and spilling, on the counter. as she cleans the mess, she can’t help but feel reminiscent of the night before. you were so giggly when high, constantly leaning on her and finding every motion of hers practically hysterical. she got to feel more at ease with you than she had since you both moved in, and it almost gives her a sense of relief to know you have now seen her in that state. you now know what she’s like when the reservations have crumbled, and that makes her steps towards it feel a bit less daunting.

when you come out of the bathroom, hair wet from your shower, eyes bright with the morning, she swallows at the onslaught of excitement she feels at your presence. without having even fully realized it, she had been tapping her hand on the counter. waiting on you to finish and come out.

“good morning,” you drawl out, your tone mischievous as though the two of you had done something last night. she racks her brain thinking of something that could explain your address of her. you guys didn’t do anything illegal, despite your hypothetical musings of walking along the train tracks. you both also didn’t have sex. her nostrils flare at the idea. yeah, she definitely would’ve remembered that. 

she was empty of ideas. “why do you sound like that?”

you smirk, leaning over the counter, and she finds herself reeling back at the proximity. the scent of your shampoo wafts her nose, and she becomes suddenly aware of just how small your shared kitchen is. “well, I’m just impressed with myself for having gotten to see lee harker high as a kite.”

she snorts at your answer, turning to switch the kettle on. sometimes, she forgot the legality of smoking since her and her friends did it so often. 

your voice fills the quiet of the bubbling water. “it was nice, though. we should do it again sometime.”

she pauses, using her task of grabbing mugs and making coffee as an excuse to remain silent for a few moments, needing time to process your words. no matter how old she becomes, she seems to always feel like she’s dangling at the precipice of finally understanding and accepting the process of knowing and being known. she has friends, yes, but it constantly feels like inside, she’s still the same little girl who felt discarded to the outskirts during recess, and who perhaps adapted to isolation and solitude not out of a true enjoyment of it, but as a survival instinct. even in her last year of university, she still cannot seem to absorb the idea that someone may truly want to spend time with her. 

“yeah, that’d be good,” she quietly responds, her back still turned to you. she hopes you can’t detect the tension in her shoulders. ever since you successfully guessed at the type of drunk she is based on her reaction, she’s taken note of your observational skills.

when she turns to you, she finds a part of herself feeling shy as she slides over a mug to you. it’s one of yours, bright flowers splattered all over it, and it’s filled to the brim with the coffee she usually only makes for herself.

you brighten at the offer. “oh, thank you.”

she nods, sipping on hers silently. she wonders if she’s a bad, or at the very least, questionable, roommate. after all, it’s been a month, and this is her very first time even making you coffee. even if she has been a bad roommate, how would she go about that? apologizing? the mere idea of it sends a wave of anxiety through her.

she’s so caught up in her swarm of musings that she doesn’t even realize how long the silence between you two has hung until you start fiddling with the handle of your mug. her eyes flick between your hand and your face, trying to consciously remain on the latter. “do you… have plans today?”

you start at the sound of her voice, and her lips nearly crack into a grin. she can’t blame you. most of your guys’ shared mornings have consisted of you two quietly moving around each other, and when conversation has occurred, it’s been at your gentle prompting. but, even then, it’d last for a few minutes before you leave. you never push her. the realization makes her lips twist. 

“no, no, some kid was begging to take my shift so he could take his girlfriend out, and I had worked a lot of hours last week, anyways, so I gave it to him.”

“high school kid?”

you grin, the bob of your head confirming.

she shrugs lightly. “that pans out.”

“ah, come on, it’s young love. people get desperate when they’re in love.”

she feels the corner of her lip twitching with the urge to smile. how have you been making her smile so much lately? she admits, you definitely wound up being a lot easier to talk to than she had initially suspected. not that you had done anything to instigate doubt from her. she supposes she's generally spent her life suspecting everyone of being difficult to talk to, but it wasn’t because of them. she had spent enough years carefully observing those who seamlessly stitch themselves into conversation to know that she was the common denominator. she struggles, and she knows it forces the flow of conversations to a halt in a way she wishes didn’t happen. and doesn’t she wish for it. for as much as she enjoys her time away from the world, tucked into a safe corner, and as much as she usually dislikes the practice of socializing, especially with people it doesn't feel necessary to do so with, she can’t help but sometimes, just sometimes, itch for the string of connection only a genuine bond can bring. it’s why your offer to smoke again continues to linger in her mind, minutes after you’ve said it. 

“and you?” you prod. “do you have work today?”

“no. the library closes early on saturday, so they usually don’t take in a lot of workers.”

between you two, an unspoken offer crackles. lee can feel it, and she can sense you do too, your eyes skittering around as though you feel awkward looking at her. she wonders briefly if that’s how she looks to you, but quickly moves on to ponder on the question of if she wants to hang out. she wouldn’t mind letting the question go unspoken. she’s certainly let that happen enough times as is, even though her friends tell her it’s apparently rude to do so. what takes her aback, though, is her desire to remain with you for the day. for some reason, despite having spent so many days like it already, the idea of you two being free, enclosed in the same space, and not spending time together now feels off to her. it feels wrong. and not because of obligation, but rather just because it's something that’s so clearly against her wants that she can’t even force it to seem right. the sentiment is foreign regarding you, but she supposes it makes sense, what with the recent conversations you two have had.

now, all there is is to actually approach the idea. she clears her throat softly, suddenly feeling on edge when you look up at her. jesus, why did she make this decision again? she sucks in an unsteady breath. “um… we… do you want to, I don’t know, hang out?”

relief flushes through her when you beam and grab her keys from the counter, tossing them at her. “I’ll get my video card for the store.”

– 

the video rental store is only a ten minute walk away, but with lee’s unwavering pacing, you two make it there in seven. you have to resist dragging her by the sleeve to slow her down, wanting to relish in the brisk autumn morning. yellow and orange leaves drift along the quiet street, and the sky is dim and grey, wrapping the entire world up in a cozy sanctuary. when you two enter the store, you nearly have to blink to adjust to the bright, yellow lights of it.

immediately, you beeline to the horror section, only stalling when lee lingers at the front, her eyes curiously taking in the latest hits.

“lee,” you call out, and when you catch her attention, shattering her quiet observing, you wave her over.

“what is it?”

you look back longingly to the horror section. “come on, halloween is approaching, we should be watching something scary.”

as you practically skip over to the row of dark, gory and borderline traumatic-looking tape covers, she follows you, quietly saying, “I didn’t realize there was an official rulebook.”

you glare at her. “you know what I mean. it’s part of the season’s festivities.”

she randomly slides out one tape, eyebrows scrunched together as she scans over the image attentively. you nearly giggle. even now, when merely selecting a tape, she’s so focused. she sets it back into its exact place with a sigh. “choose whatever you want.”

you frown, feeling rather petulant at her disinterest. “we’re supposed to choose together. do you not like horror?”

“not really.” her tone is flat, the blunt answer drained of hesitation, and you nearly laugh. “mystery and thrillers I like – anything I can put my mind to solving. but, horrors are usually too surface-level. just trying to get a rise out of the audience.”

you roll your eyes at her. “whoever’s been showing you horror films has been doing you a disgrace, then.”

something rumbles in her chest, and it takes you a moment to realize it’s a chuckle. her mouth curls up, and she says, “actually, I chose to watch those.”

“so, you didn’t even consult a horror movie connoisseur before choosing to hate on them? such a rookie.”

a small smile appears on her lips. “well, I wasn’t aware there was such a strict regime.”

“thank god for me.”

a quiet snort puffs from her nose. “okay, so, you choose then.” she purses her lips together in concentration, eyes roving over the rest of the store. “and I’ll choose something from the thriller section.”

you nod eagerly. “sounds good.” when she walks away, you turn excitedly back to the rows of films, skin nearly thrumming. you cannot wait to show her a movie of your picking, and even more, have her show you a movie that she likes. you want to have a look, even just a peak, into her mind and what she likes, what she finds interesting.

twenty minutes later, you practically shove the cover of The Shining in her face. “please, you haven’t seen it, right?”

she cocks her head, observing it. “no, I haven’t.”

you nearly squeal in delight. “great. what did you choose?”

cradling it as though it’s a long-lost relic, she shows you the copy of The Silence of the Lambs.

you immediately chortle, skimming your fingers over the cover, something in you stirring at the site of your hand so close to hers, which are dry at the knuckle from the cold, faint, brown hairs at the base of her wrist. you’ve seen the film – of course you have. the idea of a woman in the FBI was thrilling to you when you first discovered the premise, and you and some friends all went and saw it together. the idea that lee likes a movie that you’re fond of makes you all the more curious.

“why the laugh?”

your cheeks nearly ache as you grin widely. “you’re such a damn criminology major.”

a scoff slips from her mouth. “you knew what you were getting into when you asked me to choose.”

you like this side of her. she’s mischievous, but in a quiet, soft way. you feel that there’s more under the current, and you can’t help but look forward to it. 

as the cashier rings up the films, you lean on the counter, handing over your card. “so, do you like movies?”

she contemplates your words for a bit before answering. “not really. I was more of a film buff as a kid.” she pauses, clearly mulling over her next words, her voice tender, vulnerable and almost childlike when she speaks next. “I used to want to be an actress.”

“ahem.” 

you both turn, the cashier watching you both with bored, flat eyes, his hand holding up a flimsy plastic bag with your two tapes.

“yeah, so going back to that,” you continue as you step out, smiling like an idiot when she holds the door open for you, “you used to want to be an actress?”

“yeah, I did.”

you fumble over your words, not really knowing what to say. she so does not seem like the actress type. you saw her at that party last night – she’s more than content to spend her hours slinking into the background, almost melting into the wall. you can’t imagine her desiring to be the center of attention, hundreds of eyes on her. “I wouldn’t have expected that, to be honest. no offense,” you rush to clear up, your words muddled and clumsy. “I just mean… you don’t seem like you’d enjoy being under so many eyes.”

she toys with the handles of the plastic bag. “I don’t. I think back then, I just thought that being an actress meant I could live and escape in the movies I liked. like, I could maybe be part of the adventure.”

you nod. you understand the urge. you, too, had spent one too many moments, even now, in what’s technically adulthood, rummaging through serieses of daydreams, almost as though you’re flipping through a photobook, finding a new one to comfort you and lose yourself in everyday. “what kind of movies did you want to lose yourself in?”

the corners of her lips tip up, and it’s the warmest thing in this chilly, dreary fall morning. “anything with adventure. I liked fantasy – magic, mermaids, pirates, you know…”

“very adventurous.”

“yeah…” her words falter. “though, I don’t think I really had it in me to be expressive enough for that.”

you momentarily debate feigning ignorance as to what she’s referring to, worried you’ll offend her by agreeing, but then decide against it. you don’t think she’d appreciate dishonesty when it came to her own experiences. “you’re not that expressive, huh?”

she shakes her head. “no. I didn’t realize it was… unusual to not show expression until I got older.”

your eyes flick over her face. you’re also unaccustomed to seeing someone as straight-faced as lee. in a way, it was refreshing to see someone who didn’t force themselves to give off certain impressions. “I mean, it’s nice that your parents never gave you a hard time. it’s just different, not unusual.”

she stiffly nods, lips clamping tight together. her eyes uneasily shift over the sidewalk. “actually, I meant to tell you… I’m going to be away this weekend.” at your eyebrow curving up, she adds, “I’m visiting my mom.”

“oh, is everything okay?” you can’t help but let the concern bleed into your voice. it’s a strange decision, to say the least. you didn’t know any peers who went out of their way to actually go back home on halloween weekend.

“yeah, everything’s okay.” when you don’t respond, she awkwardly glances to you. “she lives alone. I visit on halloween weekend just to make sure she’s okay.” she opens her mouth, almost as though she wants to say something else, but then, one, two, three, seconds pass and she remains silent.

you stare at her in awe, feeling as though your heart is expanding. she really was so good, wasn’t she?

–

when lee reaches her childhood home, shoulders heavy and heart already throbbing in pre-existing guilt and shame, she immediately sets out to search for her mother. might as well get this over with.

she gently walks through the wretched hole her mother has made of what was once their home, body twisting and writhing to avoid brushing against anything that might have gone unclean for too long. already, she can feel the dread wrapping around her, hugging around her torso, like a friend simply returning after time away, squeezing, unforgiving, unable to let go.

her mother is nowhere to be found. the television is softly blaring in the living room, and it keeps her company from the quiet of their isolated home. lee purses her lips, concern starting to grip her chest. she tempers her breathing, which is getting heavy and weighed with anxiety. her fingers are twisting and pressing together -- anything to make her feel more linked to earth. 

it turns out to be nothing. in a matter of ten minutes, her mother returns home and lee suddenly feels like a child who thought she had woken up alone at home and is now suppressing the urge to bury her face in her mother’s familiar scent. 

it’s a thought she suddenly feels she’d like you to know. it’s a thought she suddenly feels you’d receive with kindness and comfort. 

she eyes the phone as her mother leads her to the kitchen, pointing out her childhood drawings as she always did. lee can sense that her mother lives in a perpetual state of nostalgia and reminiscence, and lee sometimes wonders if her mother liked her better as a child, and if her adulthood was the low point of her journey as mother. she knows her mom prefers how things were when lee was a kid, before that night occurred. but, sometimes, lee feels that her mom also prefers lee as a child, rather than just the state of time. when lee asked less questions, didn't prod as much. didn't leave as often. didn't yet become someone who her mom might not like.

lee continues to watch the phone. she wants to tell you these things.

[smoshyourheadin]

Sunshine and Soda Cans

Part 2 - Bubbles

"hey, spencer!" angela jogs up to spencer as you walk into the office. you wander to the kitchen to grab a soda, and put your stuff down.

"(y/n) said shes struggling with editing the new try not to laugh episode, and i don't think she's going to ask for help because she's too stubborn, so can you just check on her and give her a hand?". spencer looks over at you, and back to angela

"yeah sure! i'll catch up with her later" angela gives him a big grin, and then walks over to you, striking up a conversation.

later on, you're sat at your desk, editing away. you've been stuck re-trimming the same clip for like twenty minutes, and you're becoming increasingly frustrated.

"hey, (y/n)!"

his voice catches your attention, making you look up, but not away from the screen.

"hi spence, uh- what's up?" you say, eyes still glued to your screen.

"oh nothing, just checking how you're getting on with the try not to laugh edit. everything going good?"

"no actually' you, look up at him and you chuckle "ive, i've been trying to edit the same clip for like ever, and it won't save properly. im losing my mind!"

he smiles at you honesty, and pulls up a chair to help you out. after about an hour, you two get a bit bored and decide to go live on the games channel, streaming some sims

"alrighty then guys, hello! welcome to the games channel, today me and spencer are going to be playing some sims 4!" you smile into the camera, adjusting your hair, and you relax into your chair.

"guys, can we hate on (y/n) in chat for drowning my sims last time" spencer says sarcastically, glaring at you sassily.

"hey!" you elbow him, playfully "you made fun of my sims' fashion choices!"

he laughs at your anger, and you talk with the chat for a little while as the game loads

"okay, my plan is to make a love triangle in my mansion. i want to see if they can handle the drama.." you say, tapping your fingertips together

"woah, okay dr. evil!" he says, laughing with you

you guys start making some characters that, suspiciously, resemble each other. as you begin to play, your sims keep chatting to eachother

"hey, (y/n), why does your sim keep flirting with mine? got a crush or something?" spencer says with a smirk

"oh, please! my sim is just being friendly! unlike yours, who keeps stealing my sim's food!!! didn't realise your name was tina.." you giggle at your own joke, napoleon dynamite is one of the first things you two bonded over, so you both have a good laugh.

you guys play for about two hours, and then decide to wrap up, finishing the stream

before getting up to leave, you guys share a lingering gaze, and you see the colours in his eyes. you give him a ride back to his apartment, and you turn of your radiohead "in rainbows' cd. weird fishes/arpeggi comes on, as you pull up infront of his apartment. you look over at him with a sweet smile.

"well, see you tomorrow spence"

"yeah. looking forward to it"

you two lock eyes, and then he gently pulls you into a sweet kiss, his hand lingering on your jaw as you melt into his touch. he tastes like mt dew, and you smile against his lips. as you break away, you already miss his lips on yours.

"see ya, (y/n)" he says with a smile and a new twinkle in his eye, exiting the car and walking into his apartment block.

you sit in your car for at least another five minutes; eyes glassy, chest heavy, and palms sweating. you pick up your phone, and open up the phone app, ringing the only person you can think of to call.

"hey jelly, do we have any icecream? i need to tell you what's just happened"

you hear angela open the freezer over the phone, and she says

"yeah, we have some vanilla and i think there's some strawberries in the fridge. everything okay?"

"yeah," you breathing staggers, fully realising what just happened "me and spencer kissed"

"I'M SORRY WHAT"

you hang up, and start driving back to your apartment.

---------------------------

a/n— hey!! thank you all so much for the love on part one omg love y’all for that ahhh 😚 my requests are open btw!! so feel free to request anything, not just smosh stuff!! i’ll write for anything (even if im not in the fandom 😚)! okay yeah hope you all enjoy pt2!! love y'all 💛

[chelseeebe]

and i’d follow (wherever you may go)

uhhh apocalypse au anyone? i literally have the second part to this basically ready to go and wanted to post this as a little feeler.. if i’m honest i’ll probably post the other part n e ways lmfao

weird fishes/ arpeggi - radiohead (read the lyrics babes)

₊ ⊹

steve had stumbled across your makeshift camp while out checking the traps, and he was honestly just going to leave it be and disappear back to the school but you’d caught him with his pants down.

‘what’re you doing?’ your voice startling him from somewhere behind, by the time he turns to see who’s speaking, your gun is drawn, pointed right between his eyes.

his breathing stills, one hand on his pocket, trying, and failing, to indiscreetly grab his own gun without you noticing.

‘don’t,’ you bite, moving your gun down toward his hand, ‘i’ll shoot you,’ face hardened, covered in muck from the overgrown forest. you’re not scared, at least not that he can see, you’ve done this before.

‘okay.. okay,’ he soothes, holding his hands in the air in surrender, ‘i was just..’ his breath shaky as he inches away from the trap, painstakingly slow, ‘i was checking the traps.. i didn’t know you were here,’ he has no doubt that you would shoot him so he doesn’t dare try and run.

‘traps?’ you question, ‘who are you with?’

he shakes his head, unsure of whether telling you would be a bad idea or if it might save his life, ‘there’s a group of us.. at the school a mile or so away,’ his lips suddenly incredibly dry, ‘if you lower your gun i can take you.. we have supplies,’ you don’t look like you’re in dying need of anything except a good shower, which he can definitely offer.

there’s some dried blood on your arm but he can’t see it clear enough to know whether it’s old or a fresh injury.

‘no,’ your jaw taut, finger still on the trigger as steve attempts to bargain for his life, ‘i want your gun.’

his mouth falls open, hopper had just trusted him enough to go out on his own with one, he wasn’t keen on the idea of letting you just take it and then gun him down. but really, what other choice did he have?

‘how do i know you’re not gonna shoot me with it?’

‘you don’t.’

he blinks at your brutal honesty, fingers shaking as they reach for the gun, slowly pulling it out from his pocket and tossing it to your feet, ‘let me take you to the school,’ trying again at his incredibly weak offer, ‘we can help you.’

your foot pulls the pistol towards you, bending quickly to grab the gun while still aiming your own right at his head. sliding his into the back of your pants, ‘i don’t think so,’ you take a step towards him and that’s when he gets a clear look at the gash on your arm, if nancy’s skills had taught him anything, he could definitely tell that it was infected.

‘your arm.. we have medicine too,’ he nods towards the cut. it’s a different world now, he knows that, but he wishes you weren’t quite so stubborn so he could at least help.

you scoff, pointing the gun at the clearing in the woods, ‘go,’ eyes narrowed as sweat seeps from his pores, ‘don’t bother coming back.. i’m not staying,’ stepping over broken twigs toward your tent.

steve doesn’t hesitate, making off quickly. he glances back a few times, shaking his head as you stand there, gun still pointed at him even when you’re a tiny dot in beneath the trees.

hopper is understandably pissed when he makes it back, giving him a small thump to his arm when he admits you’d taken the gun and he hadn’t been able to check the traps properly.

he tries to tell them not to go back, that you’ll have moved on by now anyway but it’s useless. hopper assures him that they’re just going to make sure you’ve gone.. nothing else. though he doesn’t quite believe it.

steve knows it’s bad news when your tent is still there in the clearing, if you had any brains about you, you’d have gone as soon as he disappeared from the forest.

‘oh shit,’ nancy swears, dropping to her knees as she enters the tent.

as steve nears, he can see your lifeless body lying on the makeshift floor, both guns laid out around your head. you’re insanely lucky to have not been chewed to bits.

‘she’s breathing but her arm.. it’s infected, bad,’ nancy looks back at both him and hopper, ‘we need to get her back to the school now.’

hopper frowns, reaching over to pick up steve’s gun before pocketing yours, ‘you think we can trust her?’ he glares at steve, holding the gun just out of his reach.

‘yeah.. yeah i think so,’ he nods quickly, he wasn’t entirely sure about it but it was between that or letting you die and he sure as hell wasn’t gonna let that happen.

‘it’s on your head if anything happens,’ hopper barks, shoving the gun into steve’s chest, ‘don’t make me regret giving you this back.’

you laid in what once was the nurses office for days, nancy tending to your arm every so often, ensuring that the infection was disappearing.

steve’s not there when you wake, but he’s told that it wasn’t easy. kicking up a fight the second you come round, hopper has to restrain you to the bed before it turns into a full blown disaster.

when steve makes his way to the makeshift infirmary, you’re staring daggers at the wall, a deep frown painted on your face. ‘i knew it was you.. i should’ve just killed you when i had the chance,’ you mutter through clenched teeth, brows furrowed.

at least you looked a lot cleaner now, nancy must’ve given you a sponge bath while you slept.

‘i’m sorry.. i told them to leave it alone but you were.. well i thought you were dead,’ steve exclaims, hovering by the door just in case you decided to kill him now.

you sigh, your eyes aren’t quite so hard now, instead they brim with tears, ‘maybe that’s what i wanted? now i’m here with a buncha’ people i don’t know, waiting to see if they’ll kill me.’

‘we’re not gonna kill you,’ steve’s face scrunches up. people were certainly pretty barbaric now but christ, they hadn’t sunk that low yet. at least he hadn’t. ‘you’ll be free to go when you’re better.. nancy just wants to make sure that your arm’s healed before you leave.’

you don’t respond, turning your gaze back to the wall as the tears spill over. steve’s maybe not the best at picking up social cues but even he can tell that you don’t want him there anymore, slipping out of the door with his head hung low before he manages to piss you off any more.

it’s another few days before there’s more news on your condition, nancy’s sure that the antibiotics were working and in just a couple days you’d be on your way. hopper’s not so keen on the idea of just letting you run off, you obviously had at least half a mind to keep yourself alive this long, so maybe it wasn’t exactly wise to let you go back to wherever, with god knows who.

‘she can stay, can’t she?’ steve questions at their little meeting, joyce and hopper wanted to get everyone’s opinions on board before making the decision.

‘if she wants to,’ joyce offers, smiling softly at steve, ‘but i don’t think she does, sweetie.. that’s why we’re stuck.’

after a lot of deliberation, the majority of them agreed that it’s only fair to let you go. they’d brought you here unwillingly and they couldn’t exactly tell you that they weren’t going to let you leave.

and now here he sat, heart breaking into two as he prods the fork into the lukewarm can of beans after you’ve told him you’re going to leave after everything you’ve been through.

‘you knew that i wasn’t going to stay here forever,’ you sigh, still picking at the bag of jerky steve had brought to your room.

because even after nancy had cleared you and hopper had determined that you weren’t really a threat, you stayed. slowly, and he truly means slowly, warming up to his friends, to him. in fact, you’d proved to be quite the opposite to what he’d first thought. you were soft and kind and yeah, a little bit of an asshole but you were now in the rotation of people he cares about.

you laughed at robin’s shitty puns, listened to salvaged mixtapes with jonathan and will and had even started going on supply runs with hopper, an honour even steve hadn’t earned yet.

those words are enough to make him stop eating, staring over at you from the ratty old chair. a few months ago, he would’ve never expected to feel so shocked actually, he might’ve even celebrated. steve had been the very last person you opened up to, which was really no surprise considering the circumstances under which you’d met.

but when it had happened, one night after dinner, steve could’ve jumped with joy. it was silly, looking back, you’d nudged him and told him to come to your room later. all to present him with a new coat, something you’d found while out with hopper.

‘i’m sick of that dirty old jacket you keep wearing,’ you said, a hint of a smile on your lips. the first time steve had ever seen it directed towards him.

that had been the first of many exchanges, usually little things like soap and hairspray that you’d bring him. initially, steve had thought that your newfound relationship was purely transactional, that you were doing this for everyone. like anyone would be, he was sceptical. it was only when dustin outwardly complained about all of his new things that he realised this was something you were only doing for him.

he didn’t have much to offer back, though he’d somehow always manage to jack some extra food from the kitchen. quickly learning what you liked, ensure that nancy made sure to keep the tinned peaches stocked. they were your favourite.

‘can you at least speak to me?’ you start, breaking him from his daydream.

the candle flickers, the deep orange light casting a hue over the old classroom, ‘don’t go,’ is all he can muster up. it’s pathetic and if he sounded as sad as he did in his head, he wouldn’t be surprised if you started laughing at him.

you sigh again, ‘i have to.’

maybe steve had known deep down that you weren’t going to stay. he’d just pushed the possibility of it ever happening out of his head, preferring to live in his delusions. the thing is, steve’s not sure if you’re just friends anymore.

at some point, he’d moved his things to the adjacent classroom, begging dustin to swap with him so he could be closer. most nights, he wasn’t even sleeping in there, opting to bring his sleeping bag in here and sleep just a few feet away from you instead.

perhaps he had just been starved of attention for too long but he was sure that at least some of the looks you shared weren’t something friends did. would you really risk your life just to grab his favourite soap if you were just friends? maybe. but steve didn’t think so.

‘where’re you gonna go?’ there’s nothing out there for anyone anymore. this, the school, was the best shot at survival any of you had. he doesn’t even want to imagine the shit that awaited outside of the hawkins boundary.

‘i dunno..’ you shrug, not quite meeting his eye, ‘north i guess,’ picking at your already broken nails, a habit steve had noticed just a few weeks into your stay. it was really only when you were nervous.

‘north? it’s getting colder.. you’ll freeze.’

you shake your head, pulling your legs in closer, ‘i have to go steve, my parents are- were.. in minneapolis, i have to know if they’re okay.’

he looks down at the floor, he doesn’t understand and probably never will. his parents were out of town when everything happened and if he were to be truly honest with himself, he was relieved. he didn’t.. hate them but he was infinitely better off without them. his heart hurt a little thinking about his mom at least, but his dad.. steve didn’t possess a remorseful bone in his body for that man.

‘it’s a long way.. maybe we can find you a car,’ he looks back at you, lump growing in his throat, ‘just a few more weeks.. can’t you do that?’ he’s almost pleading now, begging you to stay right here. with him.

‘no,’ shaking your head slowly, it’s hurting you too, ‘i can’t not know if they’re still alive any longer.. i miss my mom, steve,’ your voice cracking.

‘but..’ he trails off, not sure where he was even going with his sentence, ‘let me come with you,’ it slips out of his mouth before he can even think about it properly.

truthfully, he wouldn’t mind it. sure, the people here were his family but they weren’t really. they all had their own, actual family with them. joyce had hopper and her boys, nancy had mike and even robin had helped her parents to safety. he was the outsider.

as were you, of course.

‘you don’t mean that,’ you sigh, looking pitifully at him.

‘yes i do,’ he straightens up, features hardening. why wouldn’t he mean it?

you shake your head, sighing once again, you’ve done an awful lot of that tonight and steve doesn’t like it. ‘you have people here that need you.. i can’t let you leave them behind for me.. that’s not fair.’

steve stands now, frustrated and upset all over again, ‘no, what’s not fair is you deciding what i can and can’t do,’ his words shock you enough to frown at him, ‘i want to go with you. they don’t need me.. they have each other, but who do you have?’

your mouth opens and subsequently shuts again. averting your gaze as he steps closer. he knows, or at least he thinks he knows what you want to say.

he continues on, ‘you don’t have to do this alone, i can’t-,’ swallowing the words before he gains the courage to speak them aloud, ‘i can’t let you do this alone.’

the room falls silent, the air still as he walks over to your chair, crouching down in front of your shying face.

‘steve..’ you speak quietly, braving a look at him after what felt like an eternity, ‘if my parents are still there then.. i don’t know if i’d ever come back here.’

he searches your face, looking for something, anything to tell him to do what he wants to do. like an idiot, he goes against his better judgement and does it anyway, placing a soft hand on your cheek, keeping your chin tilted towards him.

‘i don’t care,’ he states rather flatly, ‘i want to go with you,’ eyes falling from yours to your lips, ‘if you’ll let me.’

you take your bottom lip between your teeth, biting at the chapped skin. it wasn’t an easy decision, steve can acknowledge that but if you weren’t willing to stay, he’d risk it all to follow you anyway. reflecting on the past few months had left him feeling confused, unsure of what your relationship truly meant but he thinks he knows now. he’s sure of it.

‘okay,’ you breathe and if he weren’t inches from your face, he most likely wouldn’t have even heard it. his lips become the focus of your gaze, inching forward so painstakingly slow that he almost wants to just mash your faces together.

when your lips eventually connect, it’s as if the planets had aligned, everything clicking into place in his mind. steve presses forward, almost losing his balance from his crouched position, using your knee to steady himself.

you pull back, still keeping incredibly close, lips grazing against his as you speak, ‘i don’t want to regret that..’ serving more as a warning than anything else.

but steve understands, in the realest terms, you two were still essentially strangers. he didn’t know what school you went to or how you liked your coffee, though he supposes those things don’t matter now. because he did know how you liked tinned peaches and how you like your tongue out when you’re concentrating. those things were what was important now.

‘you won’t,’ he breathes, vision blurring as he gazes into your eyes, ‘i promise.’

-

hopper peeks his head into the classroom the next morning, expecting to find the usual sight of you and steve barely awake and groggy but seperate, instead steve’s cradled into your back, arm wrapped tightly around your waist as you slept.

he’s about to wake the both of you for breakfast but decides against it, maybe in his bitter old heart you two reminded him of joyce and himself.

when you do eventually rise, it’s an hour after everyone else had eaten and started their duties. the echoes of dustin screeching about something pull steve from the best sleep he’d had in months, hell, maybe even years.

‘i’m gonna tell them today..’ you start, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, ‘you can still say no.’

‘i’m not doing that,’ steve asserts, brushing the hair from your face. he regularly saw you in this state but something about today felt different, like you were finally allowing yourself to show that softer side to him.

you nod, smiling gently at him from the flat camping pillow.

as suspected, the news doesn’t go great.

hopper tries a similar tactic to steve, offering to find a car for the pair of you. dustin is downright hysterical, arms flying everywhere as he lists off a number of reasons you shouldn’t leave. but joyce.. joyce just nods, giving you both that sincere smile that made steve feel all warm inside.

and he knows that she’d probably do the same for her sons, a few years back when will had gone missing, she had turned the world upside down just to find him.

there’s a sort of longing in steve’s chest that makes him wish for someone that he’d do that for and just maybe he’d found it.

[leossmoonn]

hi! can I please request a fluff piece of Mike giving the reader a mixtape of songs he likes and thinks about them as a cute thoughtful gift? established relationship would be great :) thanks for writing, love reading your work!

thank you so much :D i feel like this is short but I hope you enjoy! (ps i curated a playlist for mike that i’ll list at the end of the fic! the songs are from the 70s, 80s and 90s based on his dad’s music taste but also the era he grew up in!!)

includes - switching between between memories and the present, mentions of verbal harassment. lowk kinda angsty but you’ll see why

————

“mike, just give it!” you groan. he sits next to you, fidgeting with the present in his hand. he twists the coils of the ribbon between his fingers.

“what if you don’t like it?” he asks. you give him a look. “i love it when you get me taco bell. of course i’ll love this. now give it to me, otherwise my assumption of you stalling because you forgot our anniversary will be become a fact.”

his eyes widen and he shakes his head furiously. “i would never forget an anniversary.”

you smile and pat his knee. “i know, which is also why i know this gift is going to be awesome!”

he sighs and slowly hands it to you. “happy one year.”

you smile in excitement, tearing the blue wrapping paper off. you gasp as you see a CD with a picture of you as the cover titled ‘how i feel about you.”

“oh, my god. mike.” you turn to him, pouncing on him and giving him a big hug. he wraps his arms around you, pulling you in. you can feel his heartbeat raging against his ribcage. you can feel how warm he is from anxiety.

“do you like it?” mike asks as you pull away. “i love it!” you grin from ear-to-ear. “no guy has ever done this for me. this… this must’ve taken a lot of work.”

he shrugs, “i’ve been thinking of these songs for a while. it was just a matter of burning them onto the CD.”

you sigh dreamily, attaching your lips to his in a slow and sweet kiss. “this is why you’re the guy of my dreams.”

he blushes heavily. “are you gonna see what’s on it? there’s a little list inside.”

you nod and open it, carefully taking the paper out. the first song on the list is “black star” by radiohead.

“that song is the song that was playing when i met you at the bar,” mike says.

you start to remember, your smile getting impossibly wider. you were a bartender around the time you met mike. it was a little bit past dinner time and mike had shown up with a woman, who you now know as vanessa. apparently, she was trying to get mike to flirt — or at least get himself out there. she had pointed out many women in the bar, but you caught his eye.

“can i get you two something to drink?” you asked. “i’ll have a martini,” vanessa said. she glanced at mike, awaiting his answer.

“uh, i’ll just take a beer,” mike said. honestly, you thought he had a staring problem at first. but turns out, he was just falling deeply in love with you.

“i can’t believe you remember that,” you awe. “of course i did. i love radiohead and you. it’s like the perfect combination,” he says.

“i’m not sure i like being associated with radiohead,” you giggle. you take a look at the other songs. one that sticks out to you is “baby can i hold you” by tracy chapman. you remember this song as the song you and mike danced to at your friend’s wedding, the one where he told you he loved you.

“may i have this dance?” mike stood up and held his hand out to you. you were taken aback. this was surely out of mike’s comfort zone. you’d been dating for six months then and you knew mike pretty well. you had just celebrated your six month anniversary where mike took you to this big fancy restaurant. you had insisted you didn’t need go to anyplace, but he also insisted that you deserved something special and he wanted to provide it to you. the whole time at the restaurant you knew he thought he was out of place and not good enough for it. so for him have asked you to dance was a surprise — good one, though.

“yes, you may, kind sir,” you smiled. you slipped your hand into his and he led you to the dance school. he put both hands on your waist while you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“you look beautiful tonight,” he said, gazing into your eyes. you smiled shyly. you were pretty outspoken, witty, charming, but also sometimes crude, person. but mike brought out a side of you that other people, and even you, experienced rarely. he made you feel bashful and special. you honestly loved it.

“you look handsome,” you said. “you make me look good,” he remarked. you rolled your eyes. “oh, whatever. i’ve seen two girls practically drool over you since we got here.”

he shrugged, “and every male here wants to take you home.” “well, i only want one man to take me home,” you smiled coyly.

mike smiled with you. you both swayed to the song as it ended. you were excited when the next song started to play.

“ugh, i love tracy chapman,” you gushed. “i love you,” mike said, not really thinking. you stoped dancing, jaw dropping at his words. it finally registered in his brain.

“i-i’m sorry. i didn’t mean that. well, i did. but, i don’t have to. or, i guess you don’t have to say it back. you definitely don’t,” he rambled.

you stopped him with a kiss, smiling as you pull away. “i love you, too, mike.”

“i am so glad abby was gone that night,” you snicker. mike chuckles, “i’m sure we could’ve asked your friend if we could use her hotel room for a little bit.”

“and get it all messy before they mess it up? that would’ve been a good idea,” you say. you skim the list once more, surprised to see “songbird” by fleetwood mac.

“isn’t this the song we drove home to after we fought?” you ask. “yep,” mike nods.

that night, you and mike had your first bad fight. it wasn’t your very first one, but it was the worst by far.

mike was picking you up from work and when he walked in, he saw a guy harassing you at the bar. you were obviously handling it: ignoring the guy and having your co-workers stand up for you. but something in mike just snapped. you two were a pretty new couple. you’d only been going out for two months at that point. while you had already stayed countless nights at his place, were practically bffs with abby, and shared your deepest darkest secrets, there were other aspects of the relationship that you two were still navigating. so it didn’t help that when mike heard the guy call you a bitch, he punched the guy.

in the moment, you thought it was a justified act. in fact, you still thought so. but you were mad that mike didn’t let you handle it. you were mad that mike seemed to always lose his temper. you were mad that mike didn’t see you as independent.

you both were outside in the parking when the fight started.

“you need to go to an anger management class or something,” you muttered.

“that guy needs to go to how-to-not-be-a-creepy-asshole class,” mike said.

you sighed loudly and crossed your arms. mike scoffed and glanced at you. “do you not agree with me?”

“of course i do, mike! but you can’t just walk into my place of work and assault someone.”

“he was harassing you and probably was going to hurt you!”

“no, he wasn’t.”

“and how do you know that?”

“because niki had just called security and there were other customers in the bar helping me out.”

mike huffed, “i didn’t know she had called security.”

“if you had just minded your own business then you would have.”

mike balled his hands into a fist and then relaxed them. “you don’t need to act so tough, you know?”

you turned your head slowly at him. “excuse me?”

“i know you’re independent and you take care of yourself. i like that about you a lot. it’s one of my favorite qualities about you. but you have to learn how to accept help from other people, especially in situations like that. you have no idea how those situations can just flip within seconds.”

“that’s really rich coming from you.”

“what the hell does that mean?”

“you never accept help.”

“yes, i do.”

“no, no you don’t. you don’t accept help from the baggers at the grocery store. you don’t accept help from abby or me when cleaning or cooking. you didn’t even accept help when my friend’s husband offered to fix your sink, you said no. and he was offering it to you for free, might i add.”

“i can do all those things myself.”

“i know you can, but it’s also okay to have an extra set of hands.”

“if i’m so bad at accepting help, why can’t you accept my help?”

“you think breaking someone’s nose is helping me?” you scoffed. “you are such an idiot mike.” you grabbed the car keys out of his hand, unlocking the car and sliding into the passengers seat. mike groaned and sighed, joining you for what he thought was going to be the worst car ride of his life. the drive was expected to be pretty short, but with just your luck, traffic was terrible. while it was only 9 pm, there was an accident on the highway, making both sitting ducks.

mike sighed and glanced at you. you had a permanent glare on your face it seemed. your arms were still crossed and you looked out the window to avoid any and all eye contact with him.

guilt seeped into him. he knew what he did was wrong. well, he still didn’t think he was wrong, he just knew it wasn’t the right choice. he should have asked the guy to leave and to just take you home. he should have waited for security to grab him, to make sure the guy wouldn’t follow you home. all he wanted it to protect you. he did the same with abby. maybe not in a violent way, but he thought he was his life mission to protect the ones he loved. he wanted to do better than with you two than he did with garrett.

and you knew that. you knew all about garret and freddy’s. the animatronic business seemed crazy to you and you didn’t quite understand that part, but you tried to be as supportive, understanding, and sympathetic as you could as you’ve never experienced what he has. you just wish it didn’t get the best of him sometime.

mike turned on the radio. you scoffed, not believing that he’s turned on music. he turned on a classic hits radio. “keeping on loving you” by reo speedwagon was about to end, “songbird” trailing right after it.

“this is a good song,” mike remarked. you hummed in reply with something that sounded like a “yes”. mike stayed silent for a couple of seconds. he knew if you were to talk again, he would have to apologize first.

“i’m sorry i got out of control. i was just trying to protect you. that guy was being an asshole and you’ve hurt you. i guess i just wanted to hurt him before he could get to you,” he said. “but i know it’s not right and i know you have support at the bar. i just get scared with you working there with all those weirdos. i know you’re a grown adult adult, though, and you can handle yourself.”

you slowly turned to him, eyes softening upon seeing him. “it’s…” you sighed quietly, straightening up in your seat to face him completely. “it’s okay, mike. i know you were trying to protect me. i really appreciate it, i do. i love when you’re there for me. i just… he could’ve hurt you, too. and you could’ve gone to jail, too, if he decided to press charges. honestly, i just don’t want to be the reason that happens.”

mike shook his head. “you could never be. i would’ve happily gone to jail if it meant i helped you and made sure you were safe.”

you grinned teasingly. “you would happily go to jail?” he smiled with you. “anything for you.”

you laughed and shook your head, placing a hand on his thigh. “i forgive you. and i’m sorry about all the things i said about you not accepting help.”

“it’s true. i’m sorry about everything i said and did.”

“it’s alright,” you said. traffic began to move just then. both of you pumped your fists in the air and cheered. “god, finally!” you exclaimed.

“your place or mine?” mike asked. “what do you think?” you smiled.

“this is a great song, but why’d you choose it? it has to bring up some bad memories, right?” you ask.

“it did at first,” mike admits. “but, we made up. and we were able to settle arguments faster and better after that. also, the song lyrics are just how i feel about you. ‘to you, i’ll give the world. to you, i’ll never be cold. cause i feel that when i’m with you, it’s alright. i know it’s right’,” he cites.

you feel like your heart will explode from love. you hug him once more, holding him too you so tight he’s afraid he won’t be able to breathe. but he doesn’t mind. you pull away slightly, looking into his eyes.

“i love you so much, mike. you are hands down the best person that’s ever walked into my life.”

he smiles and leans in and kisses you softly. he pulls away to catch his breath, taking your free hand into his. “i love you more.”

mike’s mixtape for you

black star - radiohead

girl from mars - ash

sunday morning - maroon 5

your song - elton john

baby can I hold you - tracy chapman

something - the beatles

faithfully - journey

songbird - fleetwood mac

iris - goo goo dolls

everlong - foo fighters

————

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