#and its sad thinking how this will happen one day a this rate

[badomenslullaby]

Chapter One

Paring: Noah x Fem reader Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Abstract: In a kingdom on the brink of upheaval, Princess Lilith is thrust into power far sooner than she ever imagined when her father suddenly falls gravely ill. With a sword in her hand and a mind sharper than any blade, she navigates treacherous waters: politics and royal expectations. Ensuring her kingdom's security, she is forced to go through a political marriage with the ruthless Lord Cassius; a union at an unbearable price. Yet in the shadows stands Noah, her devoted knight, and forbidden love. He is her unspoken promise, the man willing to sacrifice honor, life—everything—for her safety and happiness. As they fight against the chains of the lives the world has imposed upon them, they are faced with decisions about whether or not love will be able to bear the pressure of duty, deception, and the ever-present threats of those who

MasterList

“I will dispose of him for you,” Noah says, kneeling before her.

His hands are rough yet gentle as they clasp hers. He’s always gentle with her. 

“Your Highness, My love, please… it is of little consequence to me. I would rot in prison if you asked me to.”

Noah is not above begging, even though he knows he’s been reduced to this. He can’t bear the thought of her marrying that man. With her father's sudden illness, the Kingdom of Aeloria, now crowned by its young queen, had been thrown into turmoil. She deserved so much more than this fate. Noah, her knight, would give everything and anything to ensure she received nothing less than the best.

As her lover, he only wants her.

“That man will drag you down with him. He frequents brothels and has not an ounce of loyalty in him. He’d make you appear incompetent.” 

He has had this Lord Cassius followed around long enough to know all about his less-than-savory tendencies. A marriage to the son of the duchess with the largest territory in the empire would do her good. It would strengthen her claim and solidify her position on the throne. But Noah knows that, no matter how strategically advantageous such a union may be, a vile man is no match for her.

He's never been naive enough to dream that he himself would ever marry her. Noah, a former street urchin who was knighted, owes his position in life to the pity she showed him on that rainy day. But to her, he is nothing more than her loyal shadow, her secret, something hidden behind closed doors. He'll never be more.

She still needs to marry someone who will bend to her every whim, someone easy to manipulate and control. Why her parents, King Aldric, and Queen Seraphine, want her to marry that heathen, Cassius (whose name alone disgusts him) is beyond Noah. The extra allegiance may be useful, yes, but at what cost? Surely, she'd only look a fool marrying a man who openly consorts with other women. Noah can’t let that happen.

She must have so much on her mind, Noah thinks. Her younger brother, Prince Emyr, was sent to marry the tyrant of another empire, and now she’s being forced to take the throne far sooner than she ever expected. He wants nothing more than to lighten her burden. He would do anything, kill anyone, to make her life even a little bit easier.

Lilith gives him a sad smile. She hated to see him begging. She gently takes his fingers and kisses them. His face softens, though he looks no less determined as she does so.

“Your father…he should not have put you in this position,” he says bitterly, the words like bitter poison in his mouth.

It’s treason to speak ill against his king, and it could get him killed, yet Noah has to bite his tongue to stop himself from being even harsher with his words. It’s the only thing he can do if he must, to prevent his lover from being married off to someone she will despise. Despise him.

"Noah, I could never bear to see you in prison," she said, her voice quiet but unwavering. "I don’t know what I would do without you by my side."

His eyes close, and he lets out a tired breath. “You’d manage, Your Highness. Perhaps you’d find someone who suited your position better.”

The words hurt to say. His fingers caress her hand before he dips his head and presses his lips to the back of them. “I do not wish to decide for you, Lilith. I only wish to see you in an arrangement more suitable to you.”

That Cassius man is not worthy to be on his knees before Lilith, nor his lips upon her knuckles. Noah hates it.

She lets out a sad sigh, her gaze dropping for a moment. "You know how I feel… I hate the thought of marrying someone who isn’t you."

A spark of hope in the back of his mind makes his lips part, to say something, when he hears one of her guards coming up the hall. Quickly, he lets go of her hand, stands, and bows his head. The guard doesn’t spare him a glance. Lilith’s good reputation keeps her from having to deal with any unsavory gossip, despite Noah’s late-night visits. They’ve been so careful.

Once the guard has passed, Noah’s eyes meet hers, and her hands. “I understand, Your Highne—” He stops. “Lilith.”

She gives him a small smile and slightly chuckles. She always finds it cute when he catches himself calling her by title and not by name.

Your chambers?" he says, a small smile on his face. The expression is different from hers, a little darker.

He is already thinking of what he'll do to her once they're behind closed doors, how he'll lose himself in her and let everything else fade away. Just for a little while, he wants to forget.

Forget the impending threat of Cassius.

Lilith meets his gaze, her voice is soft. "Please… lead the way."

He gives her his arm and leads her to her chambers. The guards give him the same disinterested looks as they pass. Once inside he can’t help himself: her lips are too soft and too sweet. His arms go around her and he holds her in a firm embrace and kisses her.

She gently cups his face in her hands, her touch warm and steady. Then, without hesitation, she kisses him—deeply, desperately. It’s a kiss filled with sadness, anxiety, and love, all tangled together in a way only they could understand.

They move to the bed, and he gently lays her down, his touch both careful and certain. He stays beside her, his lips lingering just above hers before pulling away just enough to speak.

"Let me take care of everything," he murmurs, his voice low and full of promise. "I can make your situation more desirable."

Before she can respond, his mouth finds her jaw, then her neck, trailing slowly, reverent kisses as if he’s committing every inch of her to memory.

"He won’t be a problem much longer," he murmurs, his breath warm against her skin as his fingers work at the buttons of her dress. His kisses are slow and firm, each one laced with unspoken promises. He moves with practiced ease, half the buttons undone when a sudden, urgent knocking shatters the moment. Rapid and insistent.

In one swift, instinctive movement, Lilith and Noah pull away from each other. She hastily readjusts her dress, smoothing it out as she sits upright on the bed, her composure returned. Noah, sensing the shift, crosses the room and positions himself, standing guard with his back to the door.

"Come in," Lilith says, her voice calm yet carrying authority.

Two of Cassius' guards enter the room, but the Lord himself is noticeably absent, much to Noah's obvious annoyance. They bow low and Lilith gestures for them to rise.

"Excuse the interruption, Your Highness," one of them says, his voice respectful but with regret. "We have had to confine your betrothed to his quarters; he was found drunk with not one, but two women. We are at a loss with what to do about this situation, and I deeply apologize."

Lilith rubs her face, her fingers pressing against her forehead as if trying to push away the weight of the situation. She’s lost for words, a moment of stunned silence hanging in the air as she processes the news.

The guards exchange nervous glances, the weight of what they have to say hovering over them like a cloud. After a brief pause, the first one hesitates before speaking again, his voice even more strained.

"There is more, Your Highness," he says, his gaze lowered. "The women are with child. We know not what to do, especially in light of your engagement to Lord Cassius, set for two turns of the moon."

"With... his child?" Lilith’s voice trembles slightly, a mix of disbelief and rising anger. "Both of them?"

Both of them. Yes, Your Highness," the guard replies, his tone regretful. "We would not have believed it if not for the doctors and midwives who confirmed it. What would you have us do? The… ladies of the night… are adamant about being taken care of, and Lord Cassius was quite insistent on not doing that."

Noah stands in the background, his jaw clenched tight, his hands clamped down on the hilt of his sword. He's doing the best he can to not look too satisfied, though a flicker of something dark crosses his face.

Lilith takes a deep breath, her eyes steady as she processes the news. "For the ladies," she says calmly but firmly, "No woman should have to go without proper medical attention during these months. The situation may be regrettable, but the gift of life is always beautiful. I won't allow them to stay in the castle, but I still want to make sure they have a safe place. See to it, please."

The guards bow and exit, the door clicking shut behind them. As the silence settles, Noah lets out a low laugh, the sound rich with satisfaction. 

“Good,” he says, his voice tinged with amusement. “I was beginning to fear you’d have to marry him.”

Lilith's gaze narrows, eyes pinning to him. "You did this. How?" There is both curiosity and a hint of suspicion in her voice. He is standing too pleased for her taste.

Noah walks toward her, his steps measured, and kneels before her, taking her hands gently in his. He presses a soft kiss to her knuckles, his lips lingering for just a moment.

 "Nothing is ever for free," he says with a knowing smile. "But I can tell you one thing, my coin was well spent."

Lilith rolls her eyes, but she can’t hide the smile that tugs at her lips. She reaches out, her fingers brushing his cheek as she gently caresses his face, her thumb tracing soft circles.

 "You, Sir Knight," she says with a teasing tone, "are one tricky cat."

She giggles softly, her lips curving into a playful smile before she leans in and gives him a soft, sensual kiss, the warmth of the moment lingering between them.

He leans into her, gently pressing her down onto the bed as his hands work with urgency, starting to work her out of her dress. The feel of her warm skin and the intoxicating scent of lavender overwhelmed his senses. Every touch was a silent declaration, that he loved her, and was consumed by desire for her. The thought that she might one day marry another was a torment that made him ache with a fierce longing never to let her go.

Her soft sounds, the quiet moans escaping her lips, ignite something deep within him, a fire that burns brighter with every breath.

If only she weren’t forbidden fruit. Noah desires nothing more than to marry her, that they be on even ground in all aspects, and she doesn't have obligations and responsibilities that keep her beyond him. Maybe in another world, in another life…

"Lilith," he murmurs, lips grazing from hers down her jaw, down the side of her neck, farther down to heaving breasts.

"I live and breathe for you alone."

"I cannot ask you to live and breathe for me alone," she says softly, her voice filled with both love and sorrow. "You deserve to live for yourself. But know this; my heart beats with yours, and I will carry you with me in every step I take. Our love may be forbidden, but it will never be forgotten."

“I could live forever hearing those words from your lips,” he whispers, with each word being a vow. He will spend every moment of his life ensuring she gets the praise and affection she deserves.

His lips trail further down her chest, pressing soft, light kisses to her collarbones, her shoulders, and along her arms. He’s determined to kiss every inch of her body, every piece of her body that's his, if but to show how deeply he loves her. And he must.

Her heart races as she feels his soft kisses, the weight of his devotion sinking deep into her chest. She lays a hand on his face, guiding him to look up at her. 

"You are my protector, my knight," she whispers, her voice filled with tenderness. "But you must remember, your life is bound to me only by duty, not by choice. And yet, here you are, choosing me despite the consequences. I could not ask for more, and I can only hope that in this love we share, you will never lose yourself.”

Her words melt every fiber of his being, much as they had when he first swore himself to her the day they met, much as they did when they confessed their love. Noah can only stare at her, helpless, his lips parted in awe.

“My only duty is to you, always," he whispers, a devoted tone in his voice. He holds her face between both hands, pulling her close for another kiss. 

"I will worship you however you demand it," he purrs softly with reverence. "For you are my Goddess.”

Her heart swells at his words, but she feels the weight of the responsibility she carries. She cups his face gently, her fingers brushing his skin with a tenderness that combines affection and quiet strength.

“I do not ask to be worshiped Noah,” she whispers, her gaze delving into his. “I am a woman, flesh, and blood, bound by the same fears and longing as anyone else. But your loyalty Your heart. They are everything to me.” She presses a kiss to his forehead, her love for him evident. “And for you, I'd stand against heaven itself.”

Noah feels like his heart will burst in her grasp. She’s so beautiful, so kind, so perfect. His eyes shine with love and worship. He nuzzles into her hand, shutting his eyes in adoration.

He’s the luckiest man in the world to be able to love her; he wouldn't trade it for anything. His hands gently caress her legs as they lay there together, and in this moment, there's nothing he desires more than to please her.

“Please,” he whispers, his voice soft yet filled with longing. “Allow me to stay the night?”

She smiles at him, her eyes filled with warmth, before leaning in to kiss him gently.

"You may stay the night," she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper, filled with devoted affection.

[gomzdrawfr]

End of the Year Asks: 14 and 18!

14. Favorite book you read this year?

I was gifted Sea of Strangers and it was one of the few books I finished reading so I'll pick that one!

My favourite was this:

It's over, she said. It was many years later when the quiet realization dawned on her. It's over, her heart whispered.

lot's of yearning and breakup stuff, I loved it

18. A memorable meal this year?

ohhhhhhhhhhhh had to think a long time for this...but I'll settle with: a burger lunch set by my nurse. Long story short, I didn't bring enough money for lunch, and so I stayed back in the ward to study. The nurse saw and asked why, I told her I just didn't felt like eating but she went ahead and got me food anyways....I cried afterwards LMAO restored my faith in some healthcare practitioners...(especially since THAT particular week in the new department was EXTRA gruelling and I was just having a bad fucking time overall....but that nurse really boosts my mood for the next few days)

[queenerdloser]

i picked an apartment (NOT the church remodel one lmao) and signed my lease and i have a car now so most of what was stressing me out this month is now wrapped up, which explains why my body decided i had Done Enough and gave me a head cold to force me to rest in bed.

[stevie-petey]

episode one: the hellfire club

Robin waves her hands in the air as if to get Steve’s voice away from her. “Ew! Gross, don’t say boobies–” “Boobies! It’s not a big deal–” You make a face. “It isn’t the most pleasant word.” “Oh, c’mon. You like boobies, Robin likes boobies, and we all know I love your boobies specifically–ow!”  You hit the back of Steve’s head with annoyance to get him to stop talking about your boobs. While he winces in pain and rubs his tender head, you turn towards Robin. “What my darling boyfriend is trying to say is that everyone likes boobs, and Vickie definitely likes them too.” 

Summary: el writes to you as if youre her husband away at war, you debate the intricate nature of liking boobies with robin and steve, lucas is your beloved while eddie munson is your sworn enemy, steve accidentally exposes your (horribly hidden) daddy issues, dustin is an angsty teen, and jonathan really loves to drop emotional bombshells on you. can you believe this all happens in one day ? lol cheers to senior year !

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n, mentions of abuse, allusions to bullying, trauma lol

Words: 13.5k (wrote half of this in one day)

Before you swing in: SHES HERE !!!! SEASON 4 !!! this season terrifies me. i spent so much time outlining and making sure it was perfect. i have some changes i want to do, some ideas, and its scary because we dont have season 5 yet and i hate messing with canon ,,, alas: here she is. my baby. my beloved. quick fun fact: theres a scene in here ive had planned since season 1 so .... enjoy !

–

March 21st, 1986.

Dear Y/N,

Congratulations on New York University! Joyce tells me that it is a very good college, and everyone was extremely happy when Jonathan told us the news. He even had a smile on his face! It has been a very long time since I have seen him smile, especially without that weird smell on him (am I allowed to tell you about the strange plants that Jonathan seems to like now? He says that you cannot find out about it, but friends don’t lie and he is your bestest friend). 

I asked Will about it, and he says that Jonathan now smells because he misses you. If you ask me, I think that Jonathan smells because he is scared. We are still waiting for his college letter, afterall. I know you want to go to school with him, but so does Nancy. Is it possible to go to two colleges? Anyways, it must be a lot of pressure, even more with all the waiting we have to do, but Joyce told us that sometimes colleges take a long time to respond. 

While I am positive that Jonathan will figure it all out soon, he pretends he does not care. But he is a very bad liar. He was very upset that Nancy could no longer visit us in California. Will was bummed too, but he was more sad that it was not you who was visiting. Joyce says that the Byers boys were born to miss you, and I think she is right. 

I also miss you. I am still bummed I never went to school with you. I bet Mike is over the moon to have you with him for high school, Dustin and Lucas also. How is Max? Is she still sad? I know school has been hard for her. I will admit that it is hard for me, too. While I am good at maths, and my grammar is getting better, I am still unsure when to use conjunctions or why Angela does not like me. Will tells me to ignore her, but I want to be her friend. She is nice to everyone else. It confuses me that she is not nice to me.

A lot about California confuses me. The flowers here are different, and sometimes I forget that I cannot go and visit you. I miss the smell of Bookstrordinary (did I spell it right?) and your cookies. Please send more as soon as you can. Will and I are almost dying to taste them again! Mike says he will try to bring some on the plane, but I am scared he will be told no by those scary airplane people.

Speaking of Mike, he is coming to California this week! I am very excited to see him. It has felt like years, I think I am even going crazy. I have planned everything for his week here. Spring break will be extra special! It will be a fun distraction from Angela and school. This week I can pretend to be someone else, someone cool, and Mike will be very impressed. I know you tell me to always be myself, so I hope that I can make you happy by taking your advice on focusing only on the good. 

To prove I will focus on the good from here on out, here is a good things list: 

Mike is visiting!

Will has almost finished his painting. I am very curious to see what he has made. He is really talented, he shows me the drawings he sends you sometimes. 

You got into NYU! Is this the correct way to abbreviate? I am still working on conjunctions, but I think I am supposed to use the first letter of every word in the school’s name to shorten it. At least, that is what Joyce says. 

Jonathan’s new best friend, Argyle, will give us free pizza to celebrate Mike’s arrival. It is really good pizza. 

Tasting your cookies again. Fingers crossed Mike’s plan succeeds!

I am sure there is more, but I am too excited about this week and my mind is going very fast. I miss you tons, maybe even more than Will and Jonathan do. Please come visit us soon. Like Joyce says, the Byers boys were born to miss you. Although I am not a Byers boy, I am still a part of the Byers family, and I miss you. 

Love, El.

P.S., thank you for the grammar books. I will be sure to become the best writer ever in California. 

–

Sweet, gentle, El. You can almost hear her voice, reading aloud to you as you used to do when she lived in Hopper’s cabin. She would stumble over the letters, ask you how to sound out particularly difficult words in Spider-Man comics; they helped her learn how to read. Now, almost a year later, she’s writing you letters. 

El has grown up so much within such a short few months, although it doesn’t surprise you.

Laughing softly as you reread the final line she’s written, you wipe your eyes and place El’s letter onto your desk. The piece of paper joins the others, nestled gently with a pile of her other letters that are housed on your desk. El sends you a new letter every week, detailing silly stories about Jonathan and Will or concerned ramblings about Angela.

The letters make you miss El terribly. They make you miss everyone terribly. 

Next to the letters are drawings from Will. He’s become such an artist during his time in California. He sends you beautiful sketches of landscapes in their neighborhood, doodles from class, and incredibly detailed drawings of you and the party. The drawings are Will’s special way to keep in contact with you, and it’s something you cherish so deeply. However, you didn’t know that he was working on a painting, and you’re curious to see what El is talking about. Eventually he’ll reveal his art to you, he always does.  

Skimming a finger over one of the more recent drawings from Will, your hand catches on the walkman that lays next to it. Jonathan’s messy handwriting is scrawled on the mixtape that sits within it.

For bug.

The words, familiar and loved, stare back at you. The mixtape contains songs that Jonathan so carefully chose for you. He spent countless hours selecting songs that he knew you’d love, songs that reminded him of you. It had been his gift for you before he moved away. And now he’s gone, and you miss him so much more than you ever thought you would. More than you ever thought you could miss anyone.  

Jonathan never did end up coming to Hawkins for spring break. 

“Dusty, what’s going on in there?” The sound of your mother pounding on Dustin’s door breaks you from your thoughts. “You’re gonna be late.”

“Don’t come in, I’m naked!” You hear the boy screech back at her, which you roll your eyes at. Steve will be here to pick you guys up any minute. Dustin knows he should be ready by now, the schedule has never changed. 

Throwing on the cardigan Steve got you for Christmas last year, you grab your walkman and storm over to Dustin’s room. At the same time, your mother nearly crashes into you in the hall. Her face is pale, horrified of the idea that she almost saw her son naked, and you pity the woman. Dustin has become relentless lately, even more difficult to deal with. 

“Y/N, my dear,” your mother clutches at her chest and fans her face. “Can you please make sure your brother is ready? I think that boy is trying to give me a heart attack.”

You sigh, figuring you would have to do so anyways. “Yeah, sure. Go finish getting ready, I’ll handle him.”

“This is why you’re my favorite daughter!” Your mother kisses your cheek before running off towards the kitchen to make her morning coffee. 

Once she’s gone, you immediately start banging on Dustin’s door. He knows you hate being late. Plus, it’s the Friday before spring break. You’re getting antsy waiting for this week to end. “Dustin Henderson, you have three seconds before I kick this door down.”

“Not now, Y/N!” Dustin shouts back, frantic and desperate. 

You narrow your eyes. He’s using his suspicious voice, the one he only uses when he’s doing something he absolutely shouldn’t be doing. Glancing down at your watch and noting the early hour, you curse in disbelief. “It’s not even seven yet, what the hell are you up to so early in the morning?”

“Nothing! Just go away, I’ll be out soon–”

“I swear, if you’re trying to sell my limited edition comics again I will hurt you.” You throw your body against the door, causing it to fly open as you stumble inside. Dustin is at his computer and he nearly falls off his chair in his haste to cover the screen from you. He’s remarkably horrible at playing cool. You’re about to tell him this when Suzie’s voice crackles through his radio’s speakers. 

“Yikes, Dusty.”

“Suzie?” You walk over to your brother and shove his hands off the computer screen. He falls to the ground with a loud thud, which pleases you. He may be a teenager now, but you’re still stronger than him. At least for now. “Why are you calling her right now–” Your eyes land on the screen and you recognize Hawkins High’s familiar orange and green school colors. “Is this the student gradebook?”

“No!” Dustin exclaims, but Suzie’s small and soft voice responds, “Yes.”

“Oh my God,” you cannot believe he’s making his girlfriend hack into your school’s database. Sure, she’s a genius, but you also know she’s incredibly religious. “Dustin, this is so illegal and goes against, like, all of Suzie’s religious morals–”

“I will repent later.” Suzie interrupts you, and you raise your eyebrows at what she’s just said. Before you can question her, Dustin’s computer refreshes. 

He leans forward, eyes scanning to see if they’ve succeeded, and he seems to like what he sees. Suddenly Dustin lets out a sudden whoop and fist bumps the air. “God, I love you Suzie.”

Curious, you lean over and read the screen as well. There, where you know Dustin had a D- in Latin not even a day ago, is now an A. There’s no possible way he was able to raise his grade in under twenty-four hours. He sucks at Latin, he hates it, which means… She did it. Suzie changed his grade. All she had to do was press one single button to save Dustin’s GPA. 

You have to admit, it’s impressive. And shamefully genius. 

“Hey, Suzie.” You bring the radio to your lips, shoving Dustin away when he tries to take it from you. “Do you think you could change my grade in calculus? Jonathan was the only reason I passed any of my other math classes.”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Suzie’s voice raises a pitch, she doesn’t want to tell you no. She likes you, she really does, but her God figurine stares down at her with a disappointed look in his eyes. She’s sinned for love, but she doesn’t think she could ever do it again. 

You’re about to plead with Suzie, tell her NYU really prioritizes their student’s grades, but the sound of a car honking outside catches your attention; it’s Steve. Dustin yanks the radio from your hand and shoos you away. “Go, leave without me.”

“What, why? We always drive together.” You frown, feeling like a little kid when you cross your arms. Dustin smiles apologetically, a smile you’ve become familiar with. Your mood darkens, anger rises to your cheeks. You know exactly why Dustin is now skipping out on you. “Don’t tell me it’s that stupid Eddie Munson–”

“He wants me and Mike to work out some campaign details before lunch today!” Dustin scrambles to mediate. He hates that you don’t like Eddie, and you like everyone. It’s unnerving how much disdain you seem to carry for his friend. “Nance is driving us, but I swear I’ll ride with you and Steve after break!”

You scoff at Dustin, not at all believing his promise to you. Ever since September your brother has been at Eddie Muson’s beck-and-call, who dictates everything Dustin says or does. At first it was innocent enough, choosing to sit with the guy instead of you at lunch. Skipping out on a few weekend plans with you and Steve to campaign with Eddie. You’d been happy for Dustin. He was making new friends, no longer your little shadow; he was his own person with his own priorities and interests now.

But ever since getting into NYU last week, Dustin has been pulling away even more from you. You don’t know why, but he’s become even more obsessed with Eddie and his stupid Hellfire club. 

Eddie Munson is the air your brother now breathes, stifling the air Dustin once breathed for you.

And it seems to only be suffocating you, not him.

“Yeah, whatever.” Halfheartedly you ruffle Dustin’s hair, and he leans into the touch. You don’t want him to know his repeated absences are upsetting you. Deep down, you know you’re being irrational. You’re almost eighteen, soon you won’t even be living under the same roof as Dustin. He’s allowed to live his own life. “I guess I’ll see you at the pep rally. Tell Suzie I said bye, please?”

Dustin nods, though you don’t linger in the doorway like you desperately want to. Instead, you shut the door behind you and place a swift kiss to your mother’s cheek as you leave. 

Steve’s car is parked in its usual spot at the end of the driveway. The teen’s arm hangs out the window and his face breaks into a smile when he sees you approaching. Steve’s smile is infectious, it’s always charmed you, and it settles the ache in your chest from your brother’s earlier dismissal. Feeling a smile spread across your own face, you run towards Steve and poke your head through the open window.

“Hi,” you breathe out, nose almost bumping against his cheek.

“Hi, angel.” Steve kisses you, solidifying your morning tradition. Neither one of you really remembers who started it, but sometime during the school year you began to slip your head through Steve’s car window so that he could kiss you slow and sweet. 

And, as tradition follows, Robin starts boos. “Do you have to do that every morning?”

Steve makes a face at her and she punches his arm. He yelps in pain and you roll your eyes at the two of them before running over to the passenger’s side where Robin sits. Her window is rolled down as well and you duck your head inside. “Aw, Robin. If you wanted a kiss, you could’ve just said so!” 

“A kiss–?” Your lips press against Robin’s cheek, smushing against her face while making a dramatic sound. She squeals and pushes you away, wiping her now wet cheek in disgust. “That is not what I wanted.”

You giggle at her and finally get into the car. It’s getting late, you see the assortment of Robin’s limited makeup dumped into her lap haphazardly. She’s been stressing about this morning’s pep rally all week, and clearly she isn’t coping very well. Trying to cheer her up, you flick her shoulder. “I’ll have you know that my cheek kisses are cherished in Hawkins.”

“How many people’s cheeks are you kissing?” Steve turns in his seat to face you, slightly alarmed. Then, noticing that there’s only one Henderson in his car, he frowns. “And where’s little Henderson?”

“Eddie Munson.”

“Woah, wait, you mean Eddie as in where Dustin is, right? Not, like, you’ve been kissing his cheek? I’m right, right? Please tell me I’m right.”

You roll your eyes fondly at Steve while Robin rolls hers in displeasure. “Just drive, Steve.”

–

It becomes pretty apparent five minutes into the car ride that no one seems to be having a good morning. Robin has spent the majority of the drive applying and reapplying her mascara while messing with her hair. She groans every time she looks in the mirror and her eyes lack their usual brilliance. 

Meanwhile, Steve has been complaining about yet another fight with his dad. Apparently they argued during breakfast, something that has become a common occurrence in the Harrington household. 

“The asshole again reminded me that I’m turning twenty soon. As if I don’t already know that! I mean,” Steve laughs in exasperation. “For weeks now he’s been asking me what my plans are, as if working at Family Video just isn’t good enough for him. As if my dad isn’t the sole reason I had to get a lousy minimum wage job in the first place!” 

“Family Video isn’t a lousy job–”

“Yes it is.” Both Steve and Robin say at the same time, which you sigh at. Can’t really argue with that. 

“Okay, yeah. It’s pretty lousy.”

Steve rubs his eyes tiredly. “And that isn’t even the worst part. There I was, pouring syrup over my pancakes, trying to enjoy the fact that my parents are actually home for once, when my asshole of a father tells me that if I don’t have a respectable job by the time I’m twenty, he’ll kick me out. I mean, can you believe that?” 

You suck in a breath. “Steve…”

Richard Harrington is a cruel, awful man. 

While you understand his frustrations towards Steve, it’s completely unreasonable to expect him to get a reputable job in a few short months without any college education. Steve’s right, it had been Richard’s idea to make him work at Scoops Ahoy in the first place. When the mall burned down, he had no other option but to work at Family Video soon after. 

“I’m sorry, honey.” You intertwine your fingers through Steve���s hair and rub your thumb up and down the nape of his neck in a soothing manner. Steve allows the touch, but he’s still tense. Guessing that he’s uncomfortable feeling so pitied, you try to make light of the situation with humor. “But hey, who knows? Maybe you can come live with me in New York if he ends up kicking you out.”

Steve risks a look at you, taking his eyes off the road for a few moments, and his eyes shine. He’s ecstatic over what you’ve just said. He looks like a little kid on Christmas Eve. “You really mean that?”

“Well, I mean…” It had mostly been a joke, a throwaway comment to try and get him to smile. But Steve’s body finally relaxes under your touch and you can’t tell him no. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“You hear that, Robin?” Steve preens, wanting to get her attention. However, when he realizes that she hasn’t been listening to the entire conversation, he makes an offended sound. “Robin, are you listening to me?”

“Uh, yes?” Her eyes meet yours in the mirror, startled that she’s been caught. “You were-uh. Talking to Y/N about your dad. We-we hate him! Yeah, we hate the guy. He really… grinds my gears?”

Steve groans. “We all hate my dad, but that wasn’t what I was talking to you about!”

“Cut me some slack, please. Your relationship with your father is one of labyrinthine complexity–”

You poke your head between the two teens. “Actually, it’s not that complicated.”

Robin covers your mouth with her hand and continues with her rant. “It’s seven in the morning, we have the stupid pep rally, and I woke up looking like a total corpse!” 

“I think you look lovely as always, Robin.” You mumble through the girl’s hand, barely coherent.

Steve, however, isn’t as supportive. “You’re worried about a pep rally? You really expect me to believe that?”

“Yeah, so?” Robin removes her hand from your mouth and goes back to doing her makeup. She’s avoiding the conversation now, which only means that Steve is onto something. Why has she been so obsessed about this week’s pep rally? Robin has been in band for years now, she’s done a million pep rallies during her high school career. It can’t be performing that makes her nervous. 

Which means it has to be about someone. 

Locking eyes with Steve, he seems to be thinking what you are. “I think we all know what this is about, okay? Y/N and I aren’t buying that bullshit.”

“This is about Vickie.” You finish for him, a smirk on your face. For weeks now Vickie has been all Robin has talked about. Her hair, how pretty her smile is, how cute her freckles are. Vickie also happens to be in band with Robin. “C’mon, you can’t tell us we’re wrong.”

“I absolutely can tell you you’re wrong.” Robin denies what you and Steve are implying.

Steve shakes his head. “You know we’re right! And you know what else we think?”

“I really don’t care–”

“Y/N and I think that you gotta stop pretending to be someone else when you’re around her, okay? You just gotta be yourself.”

Robin doesn’t want to hear any of this. At least not from you and Steve. “You guys are biased, you do realize that?”

“What do you mean?” You’re practically laying across Steve’s car console in order to be a part of the conversation. “I think we’re objective people.”

“You’re telling me that all I have to do is be myself and Vickie will want to date me?”

You frown. “Yeah? What’s wrong with that?”

Robin throws her head back. “Because it took Steve months to ask you out. Mind you, this was when you were already in love with the guy! And he knew you were in love with him!”

“Okay, hey–” Steve doesn’t at all like what she’s insinuating. He didn’t necessarily know you were already in love with him, he just… had a small hunch. 

“I’m not done,” Robin holds her hand up. “All Steve had to do was man up and admit his feelings for you. He didn’t have to agonize over whether or not it’d blow up in his face. There was no risk, no danger, no world ending consequences. I mean, if you had rejected him then maybe Steve’s ego would’ve been bruised. But if I ask out the wrong girl? Bam! I’m a town pariah.”

“This is true,” you reluctantly agree. While you could never envision a world where you’d ever say no to Steve, you also recognize that the world where you somehow do wouldn’t be the same world as Robin’s. Things are different for her, whether you like it or not. Robin has to live with this knowledge, and her conversation with you about luck and love from last summer echoes in your mind. 

Steve places a hand on his chest, betrayed. “Whose side are you on, Y/N?”

“True love’s side.”

Robin snorts and Steve doesn’t bother to hide his smile. He wants to tease you for being a hopeless romantic, but now isn’t the time. Instead, he continues the previous conversation. “True love aside, we can’t ignore that Vickie is definitely not the wrong girl.”

“Oh, she definitely isn’t straight.” You agree.

“We don’t know that!” Robin quickly sprays some breath freshener in her mouth and gags, which you cringe at. Vickie is one lucky girl if Robin ever manages to become her girlfriend. 

Steve doesn’t let up, he’s convinced he has it all figured out. “She returned Fast Times paused at fifty-three minutes, five seconds.”

“The bikini scene, mind you.” You butt in, and Steve nods eagerly.

“And you know who pauses Fast Times at fifty-three minutes, five seconds? People who like boobies, Robin!” 

Robin waves her hands in the air as if to get Steve’s voice away from her. “Ew! Gross, don’t say boobies–”

“Boobies! It’s not a big deal–”

You make a face. “It isn’t the most pleasant word.”

“Oh, c’mon. You like boobies, Robin likes boobies, and we all know I love your boobies specifically–ow!” 

You hit the back of Steve’s head with annoyance to get him to stop talking about your boobs. While he winces in pain and rubs his tender head, you turn towards Robin. “What my darling boyfriend is trying to say is that everyone likes boobs, and Vickie definitely likes them too.” 

Robin can’t even look at the two of you, appalled by how many times the word “boobies” has been uttered during the duration of the conversation. You can’t blame her, the word has practically lost all meaning for you as well.

Steve, however, can’t seem to get enough of it. “It’s boobies!” He exclaims again to no one in particular.

You and Robin lock eyes, and then, without saying anything, your hand covers Steve’s mouth while Robin flicks his forehead, effectively putting the boob conversation to an end. 

– 

The moment Steve’s BMW slows in front of the school, Robin throws the door open and rushes out with a quick “see you later!” to you as she runs to follow after her bandmates. Steve waves weakly as she goes and sighs in disappointment.

“She’s never talking to Vickie, is she?”

“Not a chance,” you sigh as well, watching as Robin’s figure disappears in the crowd of students. Spring break looms over the student body, everyone buzzes with excitement over their week of freedom and tonight’s basketball game. The pep rally in just a few short minutes only adds to the exhilaration. Leaning forward, your lips graze against Steve’s. “Anyways, see you tonight?”

He bridges the gap between your lips, skin meets skin and warmth floods your stomach. “Of course, angel. I love you.”

“I love you, too, honey.” And with one last kiss, you exit Steve’s car and make your way towards the school. As always, Steve waits until you’re safely on the sidewalk before he pulls away and heads towards Family Video. He’s started picking up morning shifts to fill the time he isn’t with you.

On your way inside, you see Ms. Kelly talking to Max near the buses. The conversation is short, doesn’t last much longer than a few seconds, and when Max turns away you notice Ms. Kelly’s patient smile drop. Clearly Max still isn’t being cooperative when it comes to their sessions. She promised you she would start trying, but Max Mayfield has always been stubborn and you’ve always been slightly overbearing.

Not the best combination, honestly.

With a sigh, you make a mental note to ask Max about what the counselor talked to her about later. There’s too much going on this morning to focus on it, and you’re already pushing Max by having her attend the pep rally anyways. Originally she had wanted to skip it and hide in the stairwell, but after begging her about it, Max finally agreed.

The conversation can wait. For now, at least she’ll be next to you in the bleachers alongside the boys to cheer on Lucas.

The thought was enough to brighten your mood a little, but it quickly became a pain in the ass to corral the party into sitting together. It took you almost fifteen minutes to find Mike and Dustin in the mass of students heading into the gym. You’re not necessarily sure how it took so goddamn long given the fact that Mike towers over half of the students anyways. He’s grown freakishly tall since starting freshman year. It unnerves you. 

While his towering height annoys you, Mike likes that he can finally, literally, look down on you. 

“There you guys are!” You grab the back of Mike’s shirt and he lets out a startled yelp. Dustin stumbles back as well, and an annoyed sophomore glares at the three of you. Ignoring her, you grab your brother’s shirt and start dragging the two boys towards the bleachers. “Thought we agreed on meeting at the water fountain that squirts water in your face?”

“I thought it was the library?” Dustin gives you an odd look. “Wait, is there even a water fountain in the library?”

“You amaze me.” You remark, not even bothering to answer his question. He listens like a bag of rocks. Mike just allows you to pull him, not at all contributing to the conversation.

Max waits for you in the bleachers. She’s saved you seats, something that you feel slight relief over. The simple gesture is small, but it sparks just enough hope within your chest to make you exhale softly. Hope that she’s getting better. Hope that she’s finally trying again.

Thanking Max, you and the others fill the seats as the gym quickly fills with more and more students until it threatens to overflow. The roar of the crowd is nearly deafening. Across from the bleachers resides the marching band. They’re playing the school’s anthem as the cheerleaders start their routine. Chrissy Cunningham leads them, her smile lovely and beautiful, she shines so brightly upon the crowd that you can’t help but fall in love with her.

In the midst of the cheerleaders’ twists and flips, Robin manages to catch your eye from across the room.

You eagerly wave at her and mime playing the trumpet, copying her movements as she actually plays one. Robin laughs, and next to her is a girl with fiery red hair who laughs as well. She’s pretty, you’ve heard countless sonnets about her red hair and dotted freckles. Knowing the girl is Vickie, you point at her as you wink at Robin, who scoffs and goes back to playing the trumpet. 

Next to you, you catch the tail end of some bizarre conversation between Mike and Dustin.

“Look, I’m not saying that my girlfriend is better than yours.” Dustin is clarifying, glaring at you when he hears your sarcastic snort. “It’s just that Suzie’s, like, a certified genius.”

Mike crosses his arms, looking towards you as if somehow this is all your fault. “Your brother realizes that El saved the world twice, right?”

“Admittedly that is hard to beat,” you shrug. “That, and she has cool powers.”

Dustin points a finger at the two of you. “And yet Mike still has a C in Spanish while you’re barely passing calculus.”

Mike rolls his eyes and you shrug again. Your brother isn’t necessarily wrong either. El’s saved the world, Suzie has saved his GPA. Both are nearly impossible feats. “Touchy subject, but touché.”

“And what can your boyfriend do, Y/N?” Mike asks, now bringing the attention to your love life.

“He’s good with a bat.”

Both Dustin and Mike groan, but you shush them when the school’s broadcaster announces the Tigers basketball team. Applause breaks out across the bleachers and you notice Max looking around for Lucas. Though she tries to hide it, you can see the interest and excitement in her eyes. She’s happy for him, but it breaks your heart that she feels that she can’t show it.

Jason Carver, captain of the basketball team and former Scoops Ahoy patron before Steve spilled ice cream all over his pants, runs out first. The crowd goes wild, but you don’t start cheering until you see Lucas. He’s smiling wide, proud to be a part of the team. You scream as loud as you can for him, he’s come so far since confessing to you about wanting to join the team earlier this year. As Jason starts his speech, dramatic as he always is, Lucas sees you in the bleachers and waves shyly, a blush creeping across his face. Then, seeing Max next to you, his confidence seems to grow as he waves more enthusiastically at her. 

The moment is sweet, it makes you smile. 

Except Max doesn’t wave back. She crosses her arms, pretends she hasn’t seen him, and your smile drops alongside Lucas’. 

You know they’ve been having some trouble recently. With Max pulling away more and more each day, Lucas struggled to hold onto the fading girl. Despite his pleas and reassurances, Max still seems to be icing him out. According to Dustin, they broke up almost a month ago now. 

But they’ve always had a tumultuous relationship, long before nightmares and monsters darkened everything. The news hadn’t worried you at first, you thought it was simply another one of their weekly breakups over something small, innocent. Afterall, they were just kids when they first started dating. Their breakups were always childish, though endearing, and always temporary. 

Now, you’re scared that this time it’s permanent. 

You’re not sure what that means for Max. She already has so few people left in her life to tether her. Billy died, her mother works two jobs and is never home anymore, El is in California, and you and Lucas are breaking skin trying to claw onto whatever small hold you have left of the girl.

Another loud cheer from the crowd breaks you from your thoughts. Jason must’ve just said something important, something worthy enough of a roaring reaction. He’s always been popular in Hawkins, Steve used to complain about him to you back when he was still on the team. But when Steve graduated and Billy died, Hawkins High had needed a new King to crown.

Jason Carver was more than happy to ascend the throne. 

“Chrissy, I love you, babe.” Everyone awes and you see Chrissy blow Jason a kiss. It’s sweet, you suppose. They fit together nicely, head cheerleader with the star of the basketball team, and they seem genuinely happy. Chrissy’s shy and kind demeanor balances Jason’s loud and charismatic boldness. They truly are a good match. 

“I think I can speak for all of us when I say it’s been a tough year for Hawkins.” Jason continues his speech, the room is eerily silent as everyone listens with baited breath. “So much loss…” The gym almost exhales simultaneously, remembering all the people who died last summer.

Your own breath exhales, and beside you Max tenses. Billy’s ghost floats through your minds, in through hers and out through yours. Hopper’s own ghost follows after him, only he doesn’t haunt Max the way he haunts you. He lingers over you, his final words to you engraved into your skin. 

You’re the best of them.

“And sometimes I wonder, how much loss can one community take?”

Enough to fill a mall of burning bodies, you think bitterly. 

Jason paces the gym’s floor now, he almost seems to glow before the crowd. He rambles on about needing something to believe in. That everyone should be doing something to honor all the lives lost in July, that playing basketball can absolve all the despair. As if it can bring them back.

Deep below your ribcage, nestled right underneath your scar and just in front of your stomach, rests a pit of anger that always simmers. You were born with it, it has always followed you. It has grown with you, the anger almost possessed your body when your dad left. Now, hearing Jason recite all the names of the ones who died that Fourth of July, the anger’s low simmer heats into a soft boil. 

You try to quell it. Jason means well, he’s only trying to uplift the community in a passionate, albeit uncomfortably pastor-y way. He’s only doing what he knows best; he’s being a leader. In another life, one where Demogorgons never harmed you, you think you would’ve really admired Jason and his resilience. 

“Think of Billy,” Your breath stills, yet your hand instinctively finds Max’s. She turns away from you, but the room is spinning and you can’t remember how to inhale. But Jason keeps going. “Think about our heroic police chief, Jim Hopper.”

Next to you, in your haze of grief and panic, you think you can feel Mike and Dustin shift uncomfortably. Grief sinks her claws into the kids, and you want nothing more than to puncture Jason’s lungs with them. 

This was supposed to be a pep rally for the Tigers, it was supposed to be joyous, an opportunity to bring Max out of her shell. To distract her from the hell that she calls her life. The entire school knows what happened to Billy, they know that he had a little sister named Max Mayfield.

You hate Jason Carver.

But you’re here for Lucas. Today is about him. He’s finally happy, he’s smiling again. The least you can do is swallow down the anger and grief and hope that you don’t end up choking on them later. That they don’t strangle you in your dreams.

“And now tonight, we’re gonna bring home the championship trophy!” Jason screams into the mic, erupting a volcanic roar from the stadium. People throw paper into the air, whistling and jumping up and down at the prospect of Hawkins High finally winning a championship.

“Tonight?” Dustin’s agonized exclamation causes you to jump. He looks at you, bewildered and panicked. “How is that possible?”

Your heart still hasn’t steadied from the surge of fury Jason evoked. Swallowing once again, you clear your throat and shake your head at your brother. “What, you guys didn’t know about the game tonight?”

“They call it a tournament,” Max explains for you, figuring you need some time to clear your head. You squeeze her hand appreciatively. “You win one game, you go on until there’s only one team left.”

Mike and Dustin exchange frightened looks, and you eye them suspiciously. “Did you guys really not know? I thought Steve explained all of this to you already. Why is it such a big deal, anyways? I mean–wait,” the boys won’t meet your gaze. They avoid facing you, Mike stuffs his hands into his pockets and Dustin pretends to read someone’s poster. 

You know the fearful look on their faces. It’s the same look Dustin gave you this morning when he ditched you to ride with Nancy and Mike. 

Goddamn Eddie Munson. 

“Oh, don’t you guys dare.” They wouldn’t. They wouldn’t fucking dream of missing one of Lucas’ games for a stupid club centered around some guy with enormous ego problems. “I swear to God, if you two skip the game tonight–”

“We won’t! I-I mean… Well. It’s, uh. It’s complicated” Dustin gulps, elbowing his way through the crowd of departing students as the pep rally ends. Mike follows, ready to step in at any moment, while Max slips away before you can stop her. Seeing how contorted your body is from anger, Dustin tries to appease you. “Look, I can’t promise anything, alright? Eddie is… Eddie.”

You’re about to scream some very choice words about that curly haired emo asshole, but Lucas intercepts the group and joins you guys. He looks between you, Mike, and Dustin, sensing some underlying tension. “What about Eddie?”

Mike quickly explains, and the more he talks, the more you want to shove your knives down Eddie’s throat. It’s one night, one goddamn night, and here Mike and Dustin are, almost shitting their pants at the idea of missing one Hellfire meeting to support their friend. While it’s unfortunate that all of this is happening on the same night, and though you recognize how long a campaign can take and how much the game means to the party, for once you can’t bring yourself to understand Dustin’s side. 

A championship game versus one single campaign meeting that can easily be done tomorrow instead.

Seems like a pretty easy decision to you. 

Lucas doesn’t understand why Mike and Dustin are so conflicted either. “I don’t get the big deal.” You’re all outside now, heading towards the main building for your classes. “Just talk to Eddie. Get him to move Hellfire to another night.”

You nod, agreeing with him, and Dustin rolls his eyes. “‘Just talk to Eddie.’”

“You can’t be serious right now,” your shoulder brushes harshly against the boy’s. You’re barely containing your anger right now. “Why does Eddie have such a strong hold over you guys? Hasn’t he repeated senior year twice now?”

“Why does that matter?” Mike looks at you as if you’re the scum of the earth that he just so happened to step on. “Why can’t Lucas just talk to his coach and get him to move the game?”

Dustin quips that he thinks Mike’s idea is a great one, but you shove between them and throw your hands in the air in annoyance. “You can’t possibly think that’s the same thing, right? A nationally organized game being postponed for a board game.”

Mike and Dustin both gasp at you, acting as if you’ve just threatened to kill a baby bunny in front of them, which only annoys you more. Sure, maybe you’re being a little mean right now, but you’re not appreciating how they’re treating Lucas. He’s never done anything to warrant this blatant disrespect from them. They’re refusing to see his side, too lost in their Eddie induced high. 

“DnD isn’t just a board game, Y/N! I’m honestly disappointed that you of all people would even say that. You’ve seen the intricacies of a campaign. You know I’ve spent all month now preparing for the end of Eddie’s campaign!” Dustin waves his hands in front of him, he’s in his own ecstasy of anger and annoyance, something innate in the Henderson bloodline. “A semester of adventuring has led to this moment, and we need Lucas.”

“Yeah, and the Tigers don’t.” Mike looks over at Lucas. “I mean, no offense, but you’ve been on the bench all year–shit!”

You swat the back of Mike’s head, the sound of his yelp satisfying and the sting of the hit soothes you. He looks at you, offended, and you just shake your head at him. “No, that was out of line and you know it.”

“One day I’m gonna be too tall for you to hit me, you know.” Mike scowls at you as he rubs his head. 

“And I’ll mourn the day when that happens,” you respond dryly before pointing at Lucas. “Now, apologize to him before I hit you again.”

Lucas lowers your finger and shakes his head. “It’s fine, Y/N. Me being on the bench isn’t the point, anyways.”

“Please, arrive at the point.” Your brother drops his head back and closes his eyes. He’s tired, he regrets even starting this conversation in the first place. The more the four of you talk, the angrier he can feel you become. Mike’s head may now be sore, but Dustin lives with you. If anyone here is in danger of your lecturing, it’s him.

“If I get in good with these guys, I’ll be in the popular crowd, and then you guys will be too.” Lucas explains, looking between Dustin and Mike as he urges them to understand, but they don’t. Mike claims that they don’t want to be popular, something that Lucas doesn’t believe. “What, you wanna be stuck with the nerds and freaks for three more years?”

“We are nerds and freaks!” Dustin exclaims, causing a few students in the hall to look at you guys. You wave at them awkwardly, you’re starting to regret following the boys. This conversation feels personal, like you shouldn’t be intruding. Though you think Lucas has every right to want a good high school experience, you also think Mike and Dustin deserve to have their own experiences as well. If they don’t want to be popular, then that’s their decision just as much as it’s Lucas’ to want to be. 

You step between the three boys, finally getting their attention. “Guys, no one here is necessarily right or wrong. Lucas has every right to want to be a part of the basketball crowd, and you two,” you raise your eyebrows at Mike and Dustin, “have every right to want to stick with Eddie’s crowd.”

Dustin sighs, “thanks, Y/N–”

“I’m not finished,” you hold a hand up and shush your brother. “What isn’t right, however, is abandoning one another. You guys are friends, and right now Lucas wants you at his game tonight to support him. Tonight is special, everyone will be there, and I want you guys there as well. I know high school is hard, but it’s even harder when you’re alone.”

“Says the girl who is adored by everyone in this shitty town.” Mike huffs, he can’t believe how hypocritical you’re being. “You’ve never had to deal with what we do. No one has ever laughed at you or tried to make you jump off a cliff just because you’re different.”

You clench your jaw. Dustin looks at you wearily, he doesn’t like what Mike is saying, but he also can’t help but agree with his friend. You haven’t ever been bullied. All your life you’ve blended in, stood out only when you were kind to others, admired for your selflessness, but never enough to be invited to parties or dumped behind a dumpster.

“Mike…” Your brother tries to pull him away from you, but you both stand your ground.

“You’re right, Wheeler. I don’t know what it’s like.” You stare up at the boy, and Mike’s expression softens only slightly. He’s just as stubborn as you are, it’s why the two of you admire the other so much. “But you forget that I’m Jonathan’s best friend. The creep, the loser, the psychopath. Kids may not have ever targeted me, but I’ve seen what they do to the people they hate.”

All the times you had to ice Jonathan’s bruised face. The nights you spent in his room holding him as he cried because Lonnie’s fists and Tommy’s cruel words were too much. The sneers, the stares Jonathan received because he was different. Quiet. Being your best friend hadn’t lessened the blows. 

For years you wish you could’ve done more for Jonathan. Now, presented with Lucas’ opportunity to befriend the crowd that once was so cruel to your friend, you refuse to lose it. “That’s why I don’t want Lucas skipping the game tonight.”

It’s silent for a few moments, all three boys don’t know what to say. Taking a deep breath, Lucas stands beside you and breaks the silence. “We came to high school wanting things to be different, right? Now we have that chance. Like Y/N said, if I skip tonight, that’s all out the window. So I’m asking you guys, as a friend, just talk to Eddie. Get him to move Hellfire.”

Lucas pauses, he wets his lips and looks between his friends again. He feels so small, pleading for their attention. “Come to my game. Please.”

The bell rings, ending the conversation, and Lucas spares one last look at Dustin and Mike before mumbling a soft goodbye to you. He leaves you alone with the boys, who in turn mirror conflicted expressions. 

“Shit!” Dustin kicks his foot out and looks at you. “This is all your fault, you know that?”

“What is?”

“Me having empathy. I hate this. Why couldn’t you have raised me to be an asshole?”

You snort at Dustin before pulling him into a weak hug. You only have a few more minutes before you need to get to class, you can’t stay very long, but you also don’t want to leave the boys without some semblance of comfort. “You’re too charming to be an asshole. Just… Come to the game, alright? Both of you. I’ll even make brownies if I have to. I just-I’ve missed you guys. This will be good for all of us.”

Mike ducks his head and Dustin sighs once more. Neither want to say anything else, so you reluctantly release your brother and leave them alone to wallow in their self-created misery. 

They’ll do the right thing. You’re sure of it.

– 

Lunch comes and Alex sits next to you. He started sitting with you at lunch just after winter break, and you’re endlessly grateful for him. You’re no longer alone, and he’s good company. A part of you regrets that it took the two of you three years to grow your friendship outside of Bookstrorindary. 

You’ll miss him when you graduate. 

Max is with Ms. Kelly today, a change in their usual meeting schedule of Tuesdays and Thursdays, meaning you had been right. She did skip their meeting yesterday and the counselor had to corner her this morning to schedule another one. 

“Be honest, how excited are you to move to New York this summer?” Alex asks you, taking a bite out of his carrot stick. You’ve come to learn that he has a weird obsession with the vegetable, always packing at least twelve of them every day. 

You pick at your own lunch, a wilted salad and sandwich your mom left for you this morning. “Honestly? It hasn’t really hit me yet. I mean, I only got in last week. I think my mind is still trying to catch up with reality.”

“Oh, c’mon. You can’t tell me you’re not at least a little excited.”

“Okay, okay,” you laugh and nudge the boy. “I’m a little excited. I just.. Haven’t really had time to think too much about it, you know? Between work, my brother, Steve, the kids, and…”

“Jonathan?” Alex finishes for you. He’s the only one who knows about how distant Jonathan has been. You’ve confided in him about how worried you are, about the phone calls while he’s high and the way Jonathan’s voice no longer sounds like his. 

You shove your lunch away, no longer hungry. “Yeah.”

“You guys call every Friday, right? Maybe tonight will be different!” Alex tries to cut through the tension that now corrodes your demeanor, which you smile at him gratefully for. 

“Yeah, who knows.” A piece of hair falls in your face and you push it behind your ear. Picking up your fork again, you attempt to finish your meal, but a sudden commotion interrupts the low buzz in the lunchroom. 

“As long as you’re into band, or science, or parties.” Eddie Munson sneers from the cafeteria table he’s standing on. He looks around the room as if everyone else is beneath him. Not worth his time just because they enjoy different things. Looking at Alex, you both sigh and prepare for whatever Eddie has to say today. His voice grows louder, shouting across the room towards the basketball team’s table. “Or a game where you toss balls into laundry baskets!”

Jason stands up and a few students whoop and cheer. “You want something, freak?”

Eddie sticks to fingers up behind his head as he creates little devil horns, snarling with his tongue out and hissing. Jason grimaces, you do too. 

“He’s a little much, isn’t he?” You say to Alex, relieved when Eddie starts to step down from the table. 

“He terrifies me.” Alex breathes out, not taking his eyes off Eddie in fear he’ll somehow cast a spell on him.

You laugh at your friend’s unnecessary fear. Eddie is harmless, Hellfire isn’t a demonic cult like some students at Hawkins seem to think. It really is just a club centered around a board game with impressive storytelling and detailed plotlines. From what Dustin has told you, Eddie truly is the best dungeon master in Indiana. 

And while you believe him, you can’t wrap your head around why your brother idolizes Eddie so much. The fascination runs deeper than just DnD. Dustin has spent almost every day of his freshman year wrapped around Eddie’s finger. He spends all his time with the teen now, rarely with you, but you’re not bitter. Of course you’re not. Dustin can have his own friends, you know this, but you also feel so… unneeded. 

Your little brother doesn’t need you anymore, and it’s a hard pill to swallow.

Truthfully, Alex’s question earlier about moving to New York in the summer sparked more than just your usual anxiety over Jonathan. It also reminded you that in only a few short months you’ll be in an entirely new state, a new city, far away from Dustin. 

“Y/N!” Dustin flies into the seat next to you, nearly upending the table itself with how violently he throws himself down.

Alex shrieks and you steady the table before anything can fall. Heart pounding, you clutch at your chest as your nerves settle. “Why must you always be so violent?”

“Because it’s fun,” Dustin responds, not even bothering to acknowledge Alex’s presence. Instead, his eyes are only on you, and there’s a crazed spark in them. He’s breathing heavily, frantic, and you dread where this is going. “Look, I need to ask you a huge favor.”

“Do you realize that this is the first time you’ve sat with me at lunch since the first day?”

He winces. “And I will repent every day for my horrendous sins. I promise, I just–Jesus you’re terrifying when you don’t blink.” Dustin removes his hat to fix his hair, a nervous tick of his. He’s stalling, he should’ve never come here. Gulping, he rips the band aid off. “I need you to sub for Lucas tonight.”

“I’m sorry?” You’re giving him an out, one chance to back down before you strangle him.

Only Dustin tightens the noose even more. “Please, Y/N! Eddie won’t move the campaign. He said something about sheep and-and finding subs because Mike and I are, uh. I guess the future of Hellfire and he needs us and did I mention how important this campaign is? It’s super cool, super gory and totally up your alley and–”

“No.”

“N-no?” Dustin practically deflates in front of you, the light in his eyes dies. 

You shove him away from you, you don’t want to look at his pathetic pouting. You’re so unbelievably hurt right now, so fucking infuriated. “You have spent every goddamn waking hour ass kissing Eddie. You haven’t so much as looked at me during lunch this entire year as if I’m a fucking plague. You’ve canceled plans, you’re hardly ever home, and now you expect me to abandon Lucas, someone who has spent time with me this year, someone who has made this entire year less lonely for me. Something, by the way, that you haven’t even noticed, all because you finally need me?”

Dustin’s mouth opens and closes, he doesn’t know what to say, but for once you don’t care. How could he possibly think you’d miss Lucas’ game tonight? You adore the boys, each and every one of them, and now Dustin expects you to just abandon one of them for the others? 

“You’re only here because it’s convenient for you.” You hiss, venom pouring from your voice. “For Eddie.” 

“Y/N…” Dustin’s voice breaks, he sounds like a little kid again, the baby brother you doted on your entire life. “Please.”

“No!” You scream at him. 

The word echoes throughout the cafeteria. A few students turn to you, some curious, some annoyed. Alex draws into himself, wishing he were anywhere but here right now. Dustin’s eyes widen, his skin pales, and you clamp your hand over your mouth, completely and utterly mortified. 

You’ve never, ever yelled at Dustin like this before. Not with so much malice, vitriol. 

You feel like you’re twelve again, your anger hurting your baby brother. 

Red hot with embarrassment and shame, you quickly get up from the table and flee the cafeteria. Dustin calls after you, but you stumble through the hallway towards the nearest bathroom. Tears burn your eyes, guilt wracks your body in painful thuds. 

By the time you lock yourself in the bathroom’s stall, your sobs have begun to claw their way out of your throat. Pressing your back against the wall, you sink to the ground and pull your knees into your chest as you finally allow yourself to cry.

Abandonment makes you cruel. Your father taught you that.

– 

You don’t see Dustin for the rest of the day. He’s missing Lucas’ game and you’re angry with him for that, but you also feel such an intense guilt over your outburst. You can’t stomach the thought of seeing him. 

School ends and Steve drives you to work. The shift will be a short one due to the championship game, and Steve is staying with you so that you can drive to the game together. However, the moment you get into his car, he notices the dried tears on your face and the redness in your eyes and immediately throws his arms around you. In between shaky breaths and cries, you explain what happened to Steve.

He soothes you, tells you that you can always talk to Dustin after tonight’s game. Right now you and your brother need space from one another, and you hate that Steve’s right. You’ll force Dustin into a code blue, you’re long overdue for one, anyways. He’s been acting weird for weeks now. Someone has to give in, you know this, and if it has to be you then you’ll do anything to get your brother back. 

For now, Steve holds your hand as he guides you through the crowd of people in the bleachers. They all cheer for Hawkins High, the energy in the gym is electric. Faces are painted, cheerleaders wave their pom-poms, and you’re wearing Steve’s old Tigers jersey. You’re not much for school spirit, but Steve almost crashed the car when he realized you were wearing the jersey, and you know Lucas will appreciate it too.

“Y/N, over here.” Steve’s hand falls onto the small of your back as he gently pushes you towards some open seats he’s found. You lean into his touch and sit beside him. With his body against yours, you try to immerse yourself in the joy from the crowd. 

The entire town is here tonight. Everyone is smiling, kids laugh and parents wave posters for their sons. Tonight will be a good night, you’ve decided this to be true. 

The national anthem is announced and everyone rises in their seats. When the broadcaster announces that Tammy Thompson will be singing, you and Steve look at each other incredulously. Laughter rises within you and you cackle when Robin finds the two of you in the crowd. There’s no way this won’t end in disaster. 

Tammy walks out, wearing a horrendous faux cowboy outfit, and almost immediately sings off-key. You cringe, ears stinging from the attack, and try desperately not to let out any laughter as she continues to butcher the song. 

Steve whispers over to Robin, “told you. Muppet.”

“Okay, she does sound like a muppet.” Robin agrees, which only makes it harder to contain your giggles. Tammy is worse than a muppet, she sounds like a goddamn muppet that broke into her dad’s alcohol stash. 

“You sound better, angel.” Steve whispers into your ear, breath warm against your skin. 

You lean back against him and smile sarcastically. “Anyone can sound better than her.”

Steve chuckles and you can’t help but join him. You know it’s rude, that Tammy is honestly not that bad, though definitely not good enough for Nashville, but you can’t help it. You can’t believe Robin ever had such a huge crush on the girl who now drones the national anthem like a dying parrot. 

In between breaths of laughter, you see Lucas looking up at the bleachers. His face is grim, he doesn’t see Mike or Dustin or Max. None of his friends showed up, and you watch him with sympathy. You can’t believe them. 

But then Lucas sees you, and he gives you a weak smile. Your attendance isn’t enough, you know it isn’t, but you hold up the poster you made for him and he laughs despite himself. 

The game starts, and from the moment the whistle is blown, it’s intense. The Tigers are neck and neck with the Falcons. Steve tries to explain what’s happening throughout the game, but it all goes over your head. The energy in the room is intoxicating, though. You lean forward in your seat, you cheer when everyone else does, boo when you think you should.

“Carver just loves hogging the spotlight, doesn’t he?” Steve says with disdain as he watches Jason side sweep his teammates to score. 

You poke his side, you know he’s only saying this because he’s still bitter that Jason tried asking you out last summer. “Honey, your jealousy is showing.” 

Steve tries to deny this, but then a player gets injured during a foul from Falcon, causing you and Steve to both spew insults at the player. You have no idea what the foul even is, but you’re enjoying the chaos of the game.

In the midst of your uproar, you almost miss Lucas being sent into the game. You slap Steve’s chest repeatedly to get his attention, you almost don’t believe what you’re seeing. “Steve! Is that–”

“Sinclair!” He whoops, but he quickly scrambles to catch you as you nearly throw yourself off the bleachers in your blind excitement cheering. You’re screaming your head off, hardly even registering Steve’s hands on your waist. You’re incoherent and ecstatic, drunk on adrenaline. 

Lucas is playing.

The game only gets more brutal from there. The points even out, both teams neck and neck. Anxious, you squeeze Steve’s hand with anticipation. Everything happens so fast, Lucas plays so naturally with the others, as if he was born to be there. 

“Go, Tigers!” You jump up and down as Lucas runs after Jason. They’re doing a new play, attempting to score the tie breaker. Jason shoots, the ball hits off the backboard and onto the rim. Your breath catches, there’s only three seconds left on the clock. The ball falls, and there isn’t any time left.

Until Lucas catches the missed shot. He dribbles the ball, you clutch Steve’s hand, neither one of you utters a single word as Lucas makes the final shot. It’s an all or nothing throw, a risk, but he takes it anyways. The ball soars through the air, hits the rim. The buzzer sounds, the game is over, and the ball spins around the rim before finally sinking through the net.

Your chest burns as you violently cheer, Steve flings himself into your arms. You’re both jumping around, screaming together like little kids. “Hey did it!” You scream, and Steve shakes you in his arms with the biggest smile on his face.

“Sinclair did it!”

Down below, Lucas’ face lights up as the crowd goes wild for him. This is the happiest you’ve seen the kid in so long. The entire basketball team swarms Lucas, they lift him into the air and you cheer alongside them.

Steve tells you he’ll go warm the car up and you practically run outside to find Lucas as soon as the game is done. Your body buzzes, you’re still breathless with exhilaration. When you find Lucas, he’s just left the crowd of teenage boys. Wanting to surprise him, you creep up slowly before throwing your arms from behind him. “There’s the star!”

He stumbles from your weight, but he knows it’s you. Laughing, he turns around and you pull him into a bone crushing hug. “You came!”

“Of course I did, you moron!” You giggle, pulling away to straighten his jacket. “I made you a poster and everything.”

Lucas looks down at the poster that hangs by your side. His eyes light up, he remembers seeing it in the stands at the beginning of the game, but he hadn’t been able to read it from so far away. “Can I see it?”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t want to see it.” You unroll the poster and present it with a grand flourish. “Tada!” 

Sin to win, Sinclair!

You’re incredibly proud of the wordplay, and Lucas chuckles. It’s good, he has to admit. You’ve left no white space on the poster, littering with small 8’s for his jersey and millions of small stickers and decorations. The poster was made with love, and Lucas knows you spent hours making it.

“I love it, Y/N.” He does. It will hang on his wall as soon as he gets home.

You beam at him. Then, from behind you, you hear your brother’s own cheers as a door opens. Lucas’ smile fades, hurt creeps upon his face. Frowning, you turn and find Dustin and Mike high fiving their Hellfire friends as they all celebrate the end of their campaign. Erica is with them, cheering with everyone else. 

“Lucas…” Your breath gives out. He doesn’t deserve this. Tonight was supposed to be his night. You turn to him, wracking your brain to try and figure out what you’re even supposed to say at this moment. Fifty feet away Lucas’ close friends are celebrating a night without him, his sister overjoyed as well. They’ve forgotten about him.

For once, you can’t find the right words to say.

“Thanks for the poster, Y/N.” Lucas doesn’t want your sympathy. He leaves, crestfallen, and you’re left standing alone holding the poster he had been praising seconds ago. The late March air chills your bones. 

You’ve never been so disappointed in your brother before.

– 

Steve drives you home and you’re silent the entire time. 

“Dustin isn’t a bad kid, Y/N. You know that.” Steve tries to reason with you, but what your brother has done tonight leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. “I’m sure by tomorrow he’ll realize he was a jerk and apologize. He always does, he’s just being a stupid teen boy right now.”

You face the window, watching the trees fading into the distance. You know Steve is right, you know that Dustin is still growing up, making mistakes. Hell, no one is perfect at fifteen. When you were his age you were falling in love with your best friend as you hunted monsters together. Neither you or Jonathan or Nancy knew what the hell you guys were doing back then.

But this is different. Dustin has never betrayed his friends like this before. He, out of all of them, should understand the pain of being left behind. He spent half the summer upset that the party ditched him, and now he’s ditching Lucas?

“You know, I used to be a stupid teen boy.” Steve says, trying again to get you to say something. To look at him, at least.

It works, a small smile turns your lips. “I never knew.”

He laughs at the sarcasm in your voice, but he plays along anyways. “Oh, I totally was. I just hid it really well by, you know, making you hate me for a while by being annoying. But hey, look at me now! I’m still annoying, but at least I have it all figured out with you.”

“And what do you have figured out, honey?” You turn your head towards him, watch the street lamps illuminate his face.

Steve smiles. “Us. Our future. Sure, I may not know if I’ll ever get a better job, but I’m sure as shit staying with you, starting a life together so that I can annoy you for all eternity.”

“How romantic,” a giggle falls from your lips. You’ve been with Steve for nearly a year now, but you haven’t really talked about the future yet. At least not so intimately, with so much assurance that in the end it’ll be the two of you. “And where will we live, Romeo?”

“New York, obviously. As soon as you graduate, we’ll find some horrible, run down apartment that’s barely big enough for two people. We’ll move in, but there won’t be any air conditioning so we’ll almost murder each other in the heat. Everyone will hate the place, but we’ll love it.”

As Steve talks, the smile that had once been on your face begins to fade. He rambles on, not noticing the shift. He dreams up the plans, how he’ll stay home while you go to class. How he’ll fix the leaky faucet that will inevitably annoy everyone. Steve envisions himself waiting for you to come home after a long day of classes and falling into his arms. 

“Steve–” But he doesn’t hear you. He’s busy explaining how he’ll probably have to sell his car to afford the apartment, but that he doesn’t care, and you feel sick. It’s too much, he’s giving up too much. He’s willing to give up his entire life for you, drop everything and follow you without any questions asked. 

It’s what your mother did for your father. They met in college, both attending Purdue. Their relationship had been a whirlwind. Love at first sight, married as soon as they graduated, your father convinced your mom to follow him back to Virginia. To abandon her family and move two states over while pregnant with you. She didn’t know anyone in Virginia, her father moved them to a small town where only his name was known. 

The divorce that followed twelve years later ruined your mother’s life. She had been left all alone, no family to support her, no friends, in a state she never grew up in.

And now Steve wants to do the same for you.

Raising your voice slightly, you try to interrupt him again. “Steve!”

“What?” He looks over at you, words finally dying. “Do you want to keep the car?”

“You… you can’t.” 

Steve frowns. “I can’t what?”

Your hands shake. Your heart trembles. Your words die in your throat. There’s so much you want to say, you can feel the pit in your stomach build into a fist. You can’t let Steve do this. He doesn’t understand that he deserves more than this. “You-you can’t come to New York.”

Everything stills. You don’t dare to breathe, to disrupt the silence. Your words come out all wrong, you know they do, but they’re out in the open and Steve doesn’t look at you as he pulls into your driveway. Silent, he turns the car’s engine off.

“Y/N…” Steve still can’t look at you. He places his hands on the steering wheel, as if bracing himself for whatever will unfold tonight. He’s scared, he doesn’t understand what he’s done wrong. His mind flashes, and for a brief second he’s back at the Halloween party and you’re Nancy in his passenger seat. “Do you not see a future with me?”

“I do!” You sit up in your seat, reach over to touch Steve’s thigh. You need to feel him, to ground yourself to him. Everything about this feels wrong. As if you’re hanging over the edge of a chasm with a long, long fall. “God, of course I see a future with you, I just-this isn’t what you really want.”

Steve doesn’t want to move to New York, even if he doesn’t realize it now. What he’s really doing is chasing after a dream that isn’t his. The timing of this is off, he fought with his dad this morning about a future he was unsure of. You know Steve, maybe even better than he knows himself; he’s not doing it for your relationship or out of love. Steve only wants to appease his father, fulfill whatever desire he thinks you have. This isn’t what he wants, and he’s worked too hard to build the life he has now, without you, to simply throw it all away.

But he can’t see that right now.

“Of course this is what I want, Y/N! All I want is you.” Steve finally looks at you, but there’s a hardness in his eyes. He’s detaching himself from you, putting his walls up. “You and me, that’s what I want.”

You grab his hand, you try to keep your voice calm. “Steve, I love you so, so much, but I can’t-I can’t let you give everything up for me. Your life is here, in Hawkins. You have a job, you have your friends and-and your family, and it wouldn’t be fair to either one of us if you abandon it for me. You could-you could resent me for it later, you could realize you hate our life and wish you never followed me and–”

“Y/N, what did you think was going to happen when you were applying to all those colleges?” Steve runs a hand through his hair, he thought you were beside him this whole time. He assumed you’d been carving out the same future he had been. But he was wrong. “Did you really think I’d just stay behind and wait for you to come home every break?”

“I…” Shamefully, you hadn't been considering what would happen between you and Steve. In your mind, he was your future, he was in it, but the details were hazy. You weren’t sure how, or why, or when, but you knew that in the end, Steve was the person you’d spend forever with. 

Steve takes your hesitancy as his answer. “God, I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“Steve–”

“You were just going to leave me.”

He tears his hand from yours and you blink back tears. You’ve never fought with him before, not like this. “I wasn’t just going to leave you! I just-Steve, please just listen!”

“I am, Y/N!” Steve exclaims, voice reverberating the car. You flinch away, and he immediately lowers his voice, apologetic. He hadn’t meant to scare you, he hadn’t meant to make you cry. Ashamed, Steve turns away from you. “I-I’m sorry.” 

He wants to wipe the tears he’s caused, but selfishly he also wants you to hurt like he’s hurting. You don’t see a future with Steve. You were going to leave him just like everyone else does. 

Steve should’ve known all of this was too good to be true. 

“I love you,” your voice is almost inaudible, the three words barely reach the light before they disappear into the dark night. You’re not sure why you say them, the words had built in your chest, the pressure heavy, and you needed to release them. To remind Steve of your oath to him. 

Silence fills the car. Steve doesn’t look at you, his shoulders are drawn together. His jaw clenches and you know he’s trying desperately to bite his tongue, withholding the cruel words that only heartbreak can provoke. 

“Honey,” you beg him to say something, anything. “Steve.”

“I think you should go.”

The dismissal punches your throat, knocks the wind out of you. He’s shutting you out, closing himself off from you, and you don’t understand how the two of you got here. “I… Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Steve’s words are cool, composed. Indifferent, almost. He still doesn’t look at you, his eyes remain focused on something in your driveway. “It’s late, you should get some sleep.”

“Okay,” you don’t want to leave, you know it isn’t good to go to bed angry with the one you love. Anger should never simmer, it should never be left unwatched. But Steve is silently asking you to give him space so that he can hurt, and you aren’t selfish enough to deny his request. And yet you’re selfish enough to press your lips to Steve’s cheek, but he doesn’t lean in like how normally does. Instead, he remains stoic, and you swallow down your tears and open the door to leave. “Drive home safe, honey.”

Steve doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he starts the car as soon as the door is closed and drives away. He doesn't look back, he doesn’t wait to see if you’ve made it inside your house safely. 

Tears spill down your face as you blindly walk towards your front door. Your argument with Steve replays over and over again in your head. You analyze every second, every word, you try to understand when everything fell apart. 

It’s dark in your home, your mother is asleep and Dustin’s door is closed, but right now all you want is your brother. You need to talk to him, cry into his shoulder and smell the shampoo he’s used ever since he was a baby. Your feet carry you to Dustin’s room and you pound on his door, begging him to let you in. You don’t bother masking the tears in your voice, you’re too exhausted to hide them from him. “Dustin, please let me in.”

“Go away!” There’s a thud on the door, he’s thrown something at it to shut you up. He doesn’t want to hear some stupid lecture right now. He knows he was an asshole tonight, he regrets it, but right now all Dustin wants to do is sleep. He’ll deal with you tomorrow. 

“Code blue,” you press your forehead against the door, your tears fall to the ground. “C-code blue.” Your voice hiccups, more tears come, minutes pass, and your brother never answers.

For the first time since you were kids, Dustin rejects your request for a code blue. 

The phone rings. The sound pierces through your ears, cuts through the headache that is starting to form. It’s Friday night. Jonathan is calling. 

Squeezing your eyes shut as you head pounds, you inhale shakily. You have to answer him, otherwise he’ll only call over and over again with concern. You’ve never missed a phone call, not once in the months since Jonathan has moved, but tonight you’re exhausted. 

“Can we call tomorrow?” You’re too tired to greet him and voice cracks, revealing far too much already.

“Bug?” Jonathan’s high, he’s always high. And yet even in his cloudy haze of smoke he can hear the anguish in your voice. “Is everythin’ okay?”

His question only makes you cry more. You’ve always tried your best to put up a front for others, to pretend that everything is okay. You’ve never wanted to worry people, you’ve always pushed aside your own hurt for the sake of others. Now, as anger and grief and despair clasp their hands around your throat, you’re terrified you’ll suffocate. 

You’ve never been able to lie to Jonathan, and tonight you don’t think you can. “I’ve had… the worst night.” You confess to him, wiping away tears.

You tell him everything, your fight with Dustin, how you think he may resent you leaving for college. You tell Jonathan about Lucas, how you were so disappointed in Dustin and Mike. Choking through tears, you explain to Jonathan your fight with Steve. How your words failed you, how hurt he looked, that you can’t explain to him how he only wants his future to align with yours, but not with your relationship. 

Even though you know that Jonathan won’t remember any of this tomorrow, for once you’re grateful that he’s too high to remember anything. It feels good just being able to say it all out loud. 

“‘M sorry, bug.” Jonathan mumbles over the phone once you’ve finished explaining everything. He sounds far away, figuratively and literally. You can’t imagine how much his drugged mind retained, but you’re thankful to have gotten it all off your chest anyways. 

“It’s fine,” you inhale again, you’ve finally stopped crying, though your chest still hurts and your head still pounds. “Steve and I… We’ll figure it out.”

Jonathan pauses, and for a moment you think he’s fallen asleep, but then his voice floats through the telephone line. “Do you.. Do you ever wonder if we’ve made a mistake?”

He strings his words slowly together, says them one by one with a hesitancy, and you frown. You don’t understand what he’s trying to say. What mistakes could you have made together? “What do you mean, bee?”

“I just… everythin’ is so hard. With Nance. Feel like… like ‘m never enough for her. And you, Steve. ‘S hard between you guys.” Jonathan’s words slur, he’s almost too incoherent to understand, and later you will wish that you hadn’t been able to understand him at all. “But you ‘n me? ‘S easy. Always so easy.”

His words toe the line between you, he can’t mean any of it. You don’t want him to mean any of it, because then the fallout would be too catastrophic to contain.

He’s Jonathan. Your oldest, dearest friend. Your best friend. Years ago, you could’ve been something more, you almost were something more, but the time has passed. 

You’re with Steve now, you’re happy and so, so in love with him. Even though everything is tangled between you right now, even though you’re fighting, you know that you and Steve will figure it out. He’s the one. He’s the man you want to marry one day, if he’ll allow you to. 

Jonathan is your past, Steve is your future, and right now you’re terrified that soon you’ll lose them both.

“Jonathan,” you finally say, his name now heavy on your tongue. It feels like you’re betraying someone while saying his name, but you need to end this conversation. Before Jonathan says something he’ll regret in the morning. “You love Nancy, I love Steve, and you need to go to sleep.”

“Love you,” Jonathan’s words slur even more, his voice drifting off. “You, always you…”

You slam the phone done, ending the call, as a chill runs down your spine. Silence encases you, the house is still. The strings and threads from years ago constrict around your throat. You choke on the lines Jonathan has crossed tonight, the tightness in your head stabs against your skull. 

There is no one to hear you, no one there to hear your final words to your best friend. “Goodbye, Jonathan.”

-

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ if youd like to buy me a coffee ☕︎

⌑ thank you for reading ! feel free to like, comment, reblog, or send in an ask so we can chat <3

[pyxxiestyxx]

Don't Worry, Fragile Flower

"What's the harm, little one?"

You had been invited to a bit of fun. One of your old friends was celebrating her Domestication Day, and you had agreed, thinking it was a small little get together where you shared a few drinks with her and her Master (a lovely old fellow that gave you fantastic advice).

When you got to her place and saw they had temporarily removed her house and installed a pavilion, you realized you may have assumed a bit too much.

"It's just a little bit of fun, you know. Class A xenodrugs like this one are rated for you, I already checked with your Vet."

You were one of the few independents there, with the rest being an absolute gagglefuck of florets and Owners…and quite a few affini looking for a meet-cute. Including the one currently boxing you in a corner, all four of her eyes trained on one thing: you.

"It will be a quick little prick, and then you get to feel everything so much….brighter. So much more. Does that really sound so bad?"

You shift uneasily at the vine she held between you, the pale yellow flower on its tip seeming to glow gold in the setting starlight. She was apparently a friend of a friend, or something. Maybe she was just a random affini who had wandered to the commotion. There really wasn't any way for you to check, unfortunately.

"Is something wrong? Plenty of respectable independents enjoy a bit of fun, you know. Unless…" She leans in closer, pressing the vine against your stomach and chest. You can't look at both her and the flower anymore, so you keep your eyes trained on hers.

"Unless you're one of those." Her voice drops to a whisper that rolls over your ears, as if it was a secret to share between you, as if you weren't complete strangers.

"Unless you're a floret, and just don't know it yet. It happens, oh yes. Far, far too often, really. A silly little sophont sees their friend enjoy a new life, and gets an uncomfortable knot in their stomach. Anger and sadness and jealousy. Because deep deeeeeep down, they want it sooooo badly. But they don't know how to say it, so they wrap it up all snug in a blanket of denial."

She peers at your face, searching for something in your eyes. You hold your breath, thoughts sparking out in bursts of energy, nothing useful or usable.

And then you feel the sting of a needle, though not the one resting on your chest. It was, you belatedly realize, just a pretty distraction.

"Don't worry about all that anymore, petal. You can't hide from meeee~ now then."

Her eyes pulled you forward and down as if gravity itself had changed. As you tipped onto your knees, she caught you by the throat, letting your knees dangle just slightly off the ground. Her smile was everything at the moment, a blazing star of emotion that smoothed all the worries in your brain.

She giggled, triumphant. "Say 'Thank You', dear~"

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 32. Reunification Day

Summary: Reunification Day. A day of celebration for most of Navarre. But not for everyone. Sometimes it's best not to judge a book by its cover.

Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist | Support Me

Dahlia

Another year, another Reunification Day. A day I never enjoyed celebrating even though I should. It signified the end of the Rebellion. And yet it never sat right with me. Something always feeling off about what had happened. But maybe that was because I never trusted my father. A father who would definitely have my head if I didn’t turn up. I adjust the sash, knowing if my uniform is less than perfect I would get a talking to. Like it would matter. I was bound to get a talking to tonight regardless of what I did or how I looked.

I give myself one more glance in the mirror before pushing open my door and locking it behind me. Dain would be here any moment and I’d rather not give him the opportunity to come into my room. As I step back into the corridor I collide with someone walking behind me, both of us stumbling at the impact.

”Sorry I-” My words die in my mouth as I turn and see Garrick standing behind me.

For a brief moment he looks sad, but as his eyes travel down my body I watch them harden as he takes in my uniform. His jaw ticking with irritation.

”You ready to-” Bodhi joins us in the hallway, stopping as he notes the stare down Garrick and I are locked in.

”Of course you would be celebrating today.” He mutters to me with a shake of his head, any hint of sadness I’d seen gone.

This was the first time I’d been close to Garrick since that night. Only seeing him at a distance around the Quadrant or in Battle Brief. No longer turning up after hours at the gym like he use to, or sitting with us at meals when he could get away with not sitting with leadership. And now being this close again, I was suddenly reminded of the sting of betrayal I had felt that night. And I hated how my body responded to him. Hated how my heart rate picked up as I look into his hazel eyes. Hated how my body relaxed as his familiar smell of leather, smoke, mixed with the woodsy spice of cedar and sandalwood.

”Not that I owe you any explanation, but if I had the choice I wouldn’t be going. They might celebrate, but I do not. I unfortunately have appearances to up hold.” I hiss at him, Bodhi looking between us as if unsure he should stop what was going on.

Garrick scoffs at my words, shaking his head again at me. “And here I thought you didn’t give a shit about appearances and what people thought of you.” He snarls at me.

I inwardly flinch at his words. He was right. But there was another meaning to today. One they didn’t know about and one I wouldn’t indulge in. “You’re right, I don’t. So I don’t care what you think about me right now.”

An awkward silence falls over us, Bodhi still looking torn if he should step in or let this play out. I note both of them aren’t dressed in dress uniform, both of them dressed in flight leathers instead. I don’t blame them. If I could be out flying I would join them.

”Dahlia.” Dain calls from a few doors down. Least he knew to keep his distance.

I turn and walk towards him, hearing the scoff from Garrick loud and clear as if he was standing next to me. It shouldn’t bother me, but it does way more than it should. I hear Bodhi talking to him behind me, but I block out whatever they say, not needing it to play on my mind. Not today.

”What did they want?” Dain asks as he falls into step next to me.

”Nothing important.” I tell him bluntly as we join the crowd heading to the celebrations.

Garrick

“What the hell was that?” Bodhi barks at me, shoving me in the shoulder.

I shove his hand away, turning my back on the crowd of cadets heading towards the celebration of our downfall.

”None of you damn business.” I grumble at him as we head towards the door at the other end of the first year dormitories.

”Like hell it is. I’ve watched you pinning over her for the better half of this year. I was literally pleading your case to her when you stumbled through around the corner with your tongue down some random girls throat.” He nearly yells at me.

I turn on my heel, stopping in my tracks as Bodhi walks into me, stumbling back a few steps from the impact. “I am very aware of the fact I fucked up. I’m very fucking aware that I threw any chance I had with her down the drain because I got drunk and then thought I’d never have a chance with her. And then I realise I did when I saw how broken she looked because of me. I don’t need you reminding me!”

”So what are you going to do about it?” Xaden states from behind me. I look over my shoulder to see him leaning against the archway giving me a pointed stare, though I note it’s lacking it’s usual edge. He’d been through a lot recently and today was just icing on the cake for the mood he’d been in.

I shake my head, “It doesn’t matter. Nothing I do will change what she thinks of me now.” I mutter before turning and pushing past Xaden towards the flight field.

Every time I looked at her it was a damn reminder of the stupid decision I had made that night. I had convinced myself that it didn’t matter what I’d done. That I’d actually done what she’d wanted from me to even give me a chance. Unaware that Bodhi had actually pleaded my case to her. Had actually convinced her the rumours that had spread in the Quadrant were actually true. But as I’d met her eyes that night I knew I had messed up. That I’d fucked up any chance I’d had with the girl I’d told myself time and time again I didn’t want, didn’t need. But I did. I wanted her more than anything despite everything telling me I didn’t. She was an Aetos. A daughter of our enemy. The daughter of someone who stood by and watched it all happen. And yet time and time again throughout this year she had proved that she was not. Time and time again she had proven me wrong, met me step for step and had schooled me multiple times. And each time she did she wormed herself in more and more without even knowing what she was doing.

”So what are you going to do about it?” Chradh states in my head, no teasing tone that usually comes with anything to do with her as I step into the flight field.

I look up at him from the entry to the flight field. “Like I said to Xaden there’s nothing I can do. You saw my memories. You saw how she looked at me. There’s nothing I can do to fix that.”

”I honestly didn’t think you’d give up this easily.” He challenges, narrowing his golden eyes on me.

”Then what do you think I should do?” I snap at him.

”Go show her you actually care. Open up to her and let her in.” He drawls as if now bored with the situation. “Or don’t. But don’t you dare mope around if you choose to do nothing.”

I turn around, pushing past Xaden and Bodhi who look confused at my sudden change in direction.

”Where the hell are you going?” Bodhi calls out to me.

I turn to look at them, “I’m going to prove her wrong.”

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands @awkardnerd @heeseungthel0ml @acourtofsmutandstarlight @fairchild06 @freyagallileaevans @pit-and-the-pen @hannraumari @elliot-rain @thestarseternaal @stupid-and-contagious01 @hyperfixation-train-station @lxnvmvrzx @thebreadisthetruevillian @red0202 @fangirling-galore @craftytrashprincess @taliyahvermillion @xadenswhore

[avocado-writing]

Gale Anon returns to Say: Yes absolutely the Mummy fic. I''m requesting more good boy Gale if you happen to have more thoughts on it. Or maybe a dirty talk Gale? Follow your heart. Thanks again for ur time, ur writing, and ur filthy mind.

well this got a lot more kinky than I meant it to oop. Thank you to M for helping me flesh out the idea!

cw: kinda cnc?; mild bimboification; mild puppy play; consent checks; excessive use of the words “good boy”; sub!gale; dom!reader

rating: E minors dni

Poor Gale is having a hell of a time of it.

Between teaching his classes; all the admin that the college has him doing; and his wizarding duties outside of academia, he’s barely had a chance to rest. Every night he stumbles home exhausted, barely able to keep up conversation with you, let alone indulge in any more intimate activities. It makes you so sad to see. You thought that after the Absolute was dealt with he’d have more control over his life - but it seems like the exact opposite has happened.

It’s been ages since the two of you were able to indulge, since you’ve been able to lay him out on your bed and ride him into oblivion. Reduce him to a quivering mess who’s barely able to speak or think. It’s something both of you enjoy, you getting him to let go and be a good boy for you.

That’s the issue, really; he’s been using his brain too much. He needs a break. To let himself go lovely and empty-headed, sweet and pliable under you. Let you decide what he needs.

When the college breaks for its spring holiday, he comes home to you so desperate that you think he might cry. You’re sitting in your reading nook when he appears, collapses to his knees in front of you and l buries his face in your lap.

“Today,” he says, voice thick with exhaustion and emotion, “it needs to be today. Please.”

There’s only one thing he can be talking about.

Sometimes it takes a little while for him to empty his head. After all, if you’re as brilliant as Gale is, your mind is always thrumming with ideas and duties, a veritable beehive of thoughts. Usually you’re able to get him there using your myriad of tricks, but sometimes you’re worried it takes too long for him to fully enjoy the session.

So the two of you have been working on a spell.

It is, at its core, a rework to be a far less powerful scroll of Feeblemind. Designed to put its target into a sweet, thoughtless state for a handful of days, where all they can do is experience pleasure and praise. No room for thinking, just feeling. 

The two of you have been refining it for a while now, and though you’re certain it will work - and is able to be lifted with no adverse effects - you still chew your lip, nervous.

“Gale, love, are you sure? If I cast it, you know you’re probably not going to be able to tap out.”

Gale groans and nuzzles into your further, pressing his face into your leg for comfort.

“I’m aware of that, but gods I need it. I trust you entirely with it, with me. I want you to take complete control over me. I want you to take care of me until I’m too boneless to move. Please, my love. Please.”

When he asks like that, how can you say no?

That night, he sits on your bed in only his smallclothes, cock straining in excitement despite his tiredness. You give him a long, sweet kiss, before pulling away.

“Last chance, darling. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he affirms, and you begin to cast the spell.

As you chant, you see Gale begin to go a little vacant. His body relaxes, all the tension immediately flooding out of it, the only thing remaining rigid being his cock. Soon there is only a sweet emptiness on your lover’s face, a dopey smile, eyes soft and aroused as he looks at you.

“Gale, are you with me?” 

He turns his head to the sound of your voice, managing an ‘mmm’ of affirmation but no words along with it. You reach out to cup his face and he immediately presses into you, mouth seeking out the warmth of your palm to kiss at it. You giggle.

“Gale!” you squeal, and he gives you another sincere, saccharine smile. Interesting…

“Aren’t you a good boy?” you hum, and his lips open just enough to let out a little moan. He twitches in his underwear. Despite his current state, he still responds to your praises, and you intend to use that to your advantage. 

“You’re so lovely, Gale. My handsome wizard. You’re so clever, but I love having you like this, just a silly boy who wants to behave for me. To be good for me. Don’t you want to be good for me, Gale?”

He nods, tears of desperation forming in his eyes. He scoots forward on the bed until his length is flush with your thigh and gently starts to rock his hips up into you, so needy for any kind of stimulation like this that he’d fuck your leg. 

“Awww, you want to get off, baby?”

Another moan of confirmation. You card your fingers through his hair and his eyes roll back in pleasure. You continue to pet him through your steady stream of praise. 

“Always so good for me, my good boy. Go on, honey, fuck yourself up against me. Let me just pull these down…”

You reach to his underwear and tug at the waistband, allowing his cock to spring upwards. He mewls at the cool bedroom air on his tip, already dribbling with precome, and begins to rut against you with more enthusiasm now that he has your consent. His face is buried into your stomach as his arms wrap around you to hold you close, his hips pressing against you in an erratic pace. When he comes for the first time it’s with a relieved little whine from the back of his throat. He coats your skin with his release, shiny and pearlescent; you feel him collapse into you. 

“Good boy. Good boy, Gale.”

He hums happily. You pet him some more.

“You know what good boys also do? They don’t leave a mess. Why don’t you clean me up, sweetheart? And use your tongue, hmm? Alright?”

Gale looks up into your eyes, soft and sweet and pliable, nodding enthusiastically at your suggestion. He’d do anything to get your pretty words anyway, but like this he is even more open to your kindness. He drops to his knees and begins to lick his spend from your thigh, lips trailing upwards from your knee where it has started to drip down. It is a powerfully erotic image to see him so thoroughly at your beck and call. Your leg is left damp when he is done but he licks his lips to show you that he’s finished and ready for more instructions. 

Oh, you are going to have a wonderful few days. 

In order to keep him near you, you decide to employ the use of a leash. The collar is snug but comfortable around his neck and he’s happy to go wherever you bring him. There’s no point in him wearing any clothes as the tower is always at an ambient temperature, so he spends his days nude by your side. Whenever he’s desperate for attention he searches out your warmth and buries his face into you, and you either run your fingers through his hair if he’s looking for sweetness or use your hand on him if he’s looking for stimulation. Either way he’s left a dizzy mess afterwards who you coddle and praise. 

He’s so relaxed, and it’s an utter pleasure to see. You sit on the sofa, propped up with plush pillows, while he reclines at your feet with his cheek resting on your leg. His proximity to you is a calming presence for him, and often he turns his head to press a kiss into your skin for no reason other than he wants to.

He loves you so completely. In return, your heart is entirely his. 

Occasionally he gets very needy and presses open your thighs, hitching up your robes and nuzzling into your sex.

“Gale, are you sure?” you ask, his glassy eyes shining with surety as he nods. He fucks you with his mouth as if it’s his gods-given duty, ekeing as many orgasms out of you as you’re able to give him. When he’s done and his face is shiny with your come, you see he’s spent on the floor; it is a simple order for him to clean up leaves him moaning in arousal. 

He is thoroughly taken care of. You’re never far from him to offer comfort, constantly checking in that he’s happy. He always nods his affirmation but lets you know if there’s anything the matter; hunger or exhaustion weighing on him. 

You feed him. You don’t need to, he’s capable of doing it himself, but he gets hard as he sits in your lap and you offer him bites of sandwich from your hand, face in a permanent grin of adoration. 

The last night you expect the spell to last is when you finally ride him. The two of you have had so many orgasms over the past few days you’re surprised that there’s anything left in the tank, but you still find it in yourself to fuck him into sweet oblivion. He’s able to clutch onto your hips and moan your name, pleasure his only feeling, your love the only thing he knows.

You fall asleep entwined in an embrace, gorgeous little words dripping from your lips until you drift off. 

The next morning you wake and the bed is empty, but you can smell bacon being fried in the kitchen. You groggily drag yourself along its scent until you find Gale standing at the stovetop, in his purple dressing gown and an apron, humming happily to himself. A couple of sleepy steps forward allow you to embrace him and tuck your face between his shoulderblades.

“The plan was to bring you breakfast in bed, but you seem to have thoroughly waylaid it,” he remarks. You can hear the smile in his voice. He’s verbal again - you’re glad he seems to be back to his usual self. 

“Mmm, I just wanted to see you. How are you, love? Are you alright? I tried to check in with you as much as I could…”

He turns to face you, and you’re immediately struck with how relaxed he looks. His eyes are soft, jaw loose, none of the tension he was carrying apparent any more. 

“My heart, I’m more than alright. I’ve never been so thoroughly taken care of. I’m so glad - blessed, really - to have you to look after me. I love you.”

He kisses you, and it’s long and delicious. 

“So, successful experiment, Professor Dekarios?” you ask, a cheeky grin on your face. He groans at that title, and you feel his cock throb. 

“I think you might have drained me dry over these past days, but I’m more than willing to see if I have one more in me…” he mutters, stepping forward to trap you between his body and the table. 

“It’s for research, after all.”

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13@trappedinlimbo15@infinitely-kate@dhampling@wereallbrokenangels@tilldeathdonugget@useless-contributions@beardedladyquee

[prettypumpum]

Title: Crossed Dimensions I Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: strong language, mentions of violence, depression, anxiety

Summary: You were living an ordinary life until the day a portal throws you into the Marvel universe. Trapped between an unbearable Deadpool and a Wolverine as troubling as he is charming, you discover powers you didn't know you had and an unknown past with certain heroes. As your anxiety grows in the face of this new reality, will you be able to find your place and perhaps become the hero they need?

Word count: 1,136

"I have good news and great news," Wade began when I returned from the bar bathroom where our pilot was supposed to meet us. "Enrique transferred the money, so for now, we're rich. And drumroll," he said, gesturing for me to tap on my thighs, "Elis is delayed, so we're stuck here until tomorrow morning," added the mercenary cheerfully.

"You think that's good news?" Logan asked, ordering another drink. We’d been here for three hours, and at this rate, the bonus would be gone.

"Are you in a rush to see him again? Need to hear more about that seafood restaurant in Barbados?" I asked Logan, who grimaced, remembering just how annoying our pilot could be.

Our conversation was interrupted by Wade's phone. He showed us the screen: it was Al. She’d be pleased; Enrique had even given us a little something extra in kind.

"So, tell me, how’s my favorite girl?" Wade asked, answering the call. "I meant the dog, you old fossil! She’s saying sweet things about you," he said, pressing the phone to his chest and stepping outside, leaving Logan and me alone.

"How’s your injury?" he asked me.

"It’s completely gone."

He nodded and went back to drinking. I nervously played with my glass; it was my sixth mojito, and I still didn’t feel anything. Now and then, I’d glance at the man beside me. He had never told us what had happened to him or why he was the way he was. He seemed so sad and angry. I’d started to think that this new universe was a second chance for him, too.

"Thanks for helping me with my powers; you must’ve been a great teacher," I said with a small smile, to which he only responded with a grunt. "What did you teach?" I asked, trying to fill the silence that was becoming awkward. We were the only customers in this dingy bar. I’d never been the most social person, but I needed to talk, and Logan was the only one who could understand since he was in the same situation as me, especially with Laura.

"We don’t have to do this," he said, setting down his empty glass and ordering another. It was four in the afternoon, and I’d already lost count of what he’d drunk. I nodded, hoping Wade would come back soon. "I taught history," he finally said after a long silence.

"I used to be a dancer." I wanted to slap myself; I didn’t know why I’d said that—it was like my mouth had a mind of its own. "Well, not in the end… I worked in a bookstore in Brooklyn."

"You could ask Wade’s friend to find you a job."

"I wasn’t that kind of dancer; I performed in Broadway shows," I said with a smile. "I ran into your Variant from my universe during one of my auditions… well, I saw him walking from far away and from behind, but that counts."

"What the hell was he doing at a Broadway audition?"

"He had the lead role in one of the shows."

At least it made him laugh. It was nice to see him in a good mood, even though I quite liked his grumpy expression.

"No kidding!" he said, disgusted, taking another swig of his beer. "If anyone had ever told me I’d end up drinking in a bar with Dreamwalker," he said, more to himself than to me.

"What was I like in your universe?" I asked, not entirely sure I wanted to hear the answer.

"You were a real pain in the ass," he replied before taking a sip of his beer. "But you weren’t the worst."

I nodded, unsure of what to say. I’d been taken by the TVA because I was an anomaly; I’d started to develop powers in a world where that wasn’t supposed to happen. And after meeting Wade, he’d explained who I was while we looked for a Wolverine.

"For what it’s worth, I’m sorry," I said awkwardly.

"You’re not her," he said. "No, you’re definitely not her," he muttered, giving me a look full of meaning.

I wasn’t sure if it was because he’d nearly drunk the bar’s entire supply or if I was imagining things because of the stress and fatigue. But I willingly joined him in this little game.

"Is that right?" I asked, unsure where I found the courage to keep this conversation going as I kept my gaze locked on the mutant’s. His beautiful brown eyes were growing darker and darker.

Our noses were almost touching, and I could feel his breath, tinged with beer and whiskey. His gaze never left mine; it was so dark, almost animalistic. I didn’t know if he was going to bite me or kiss me. The scariest part was that I didn’t know which I’d prefer.

*What am I doing?* My reason was screaming at me not to play with fire, but my heart was pounding so hard I thought it might burst. I knew this wasn’t a good idea, that Logan wasn’t the kind of man you approached without leaving a piece of yourself behind. And yet, I was here, unable to pull away. I felt like Little Red Riding Hood, knowingly choosing to play with the wolf, fully aware of what that meant.

"Everything’s fine!" Wade yelled as he reentered the bar, snapping both of us out of that suspended moment. Logan and I quickly pulled away from each other; I turned my attention to my drink, trying to hide my flushed face, and calm my heart, which was about to leap out of my chest. Reality had just jolted me out of that daydream in a brutal and familiar way—of course, nothing was going to happen, not between Logan and me. As if someone like him would actually let himself go for someone like me. I lowered my gaze, hoping Wade wouldn’t notice my flushed cheeks, trying to ignore the painful void left by that stolen moment.

"Did I interrupt something?" Wade asked, curious. I shook my head, staring at the little umbrella in my glass while Logan stayed turned away, still drinking. "Are you sure?" he continued.

"How’s everything at home?" I asked to change the subject. "She got in a car accident," Wade replied calmly.

I still couldn’t understand how a blind old lady addicted to cocaine had a driver’s license.

"Oh my God, is she okay?" I asked, concerned for the old lady.

"She’s in the hospital with a bunch of fractures and a concussion," Wade replied calmly. "But my little Mary Poppins is fine; she’s with Vanessa. Aren't they just adorable together?" he asked in a schoolgirl’s voice, showing me a selfie where Vanessa was holding Dogpool, with Al in the background, clearly in pain.

"Adorable," I replied.

[deancasbigbang]

Title: When Everything Goes Wrong, Go Right

Author: Ryan_A

Artist: Aceriee

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester Garth/Benny Dean/Lee (breakup) Castiel/April (past)

Length: 100000

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence Rape/Non-Con

Tags: Russian Alpha Cas, Omega Dean, Gentle yet Badass Cas, Secret Identity, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Castiel likes his knives, Car Chases, Dean makes alphas eat his Impala’s dust, Gabriel’s Wonka-like Bakery

Posting Date: November 7, 2024

Summary: Dean swears the universe is out to get him. It’s bad enough he was born a rare omega in a world that sees them as freaks, but after ruffling the feathers of a relentless gang of alphas, he’s on the run, fleeing for his life. His Impala might be a beast of a muscle car, but even it can’t outrun the weather or the universe that insists on toying with him like a cat with its prey. Dean evades his pursuers only to end up trapped by a severe storm in a remote town in South Dakota. Drenched to the bone and unable to fix a flat tire in the woods, a strange blue-eyed alpha in a trench coat comes to his aid like a guardian angel. But Dean doesn’t trust alphas. And not everything is as it seems. With the universe still pulling its strings, Dean’s days of fleeing aren’t over yet.

Excerpt: “Cassie? What the hell happened to you?” Gabriel exclaims, eyes wide with shock. “The bridge was washed out. Had to swim across.” Gabriel curses under his breath and shoos Castiel toward the staff room. Castiel doesn’t miss how his older brother glances toward the hidden camera in the coffee maker, raising his hands to profess his innocence to the unseen audience. But he does hear Gabriel leave and return with a towel muttering, “At least stop making a puddle.” Castiel catches the towel, the fabric soft against his cold skin, and starts drying off. “I tried to call, but the phone lines are down from the storm.” Gabriel's face tightens with concern. “She's watching right now, isn't she?” Castiel asks, already knowing the answer. Gabriel doesn’t respond, instead suggesting, “Go use the shower upstairs. I’ll find you dry clothes.” “No.” Castiel shakes his head, water droplets flying. “I have to swim back.” “Eto pizdets,” Gabriel curses in Russian and scrubs his face. “I want you to stay put on the other side.” “But mandatory check-in—” “I’ll take care of it with Pakhan Mikhail. God knows Mother’s giving him an earful right now, seeing the state you’re in. My phone will be ringing as soon as you leave.” “It’s just water. I’m perfectly capable of swimming—” “Don’t you even think of it. Your lips are blue, Cassie. You think Mother can’t see color through that camera? She’s gonna hit me upside the head for this.” Castiel reaches for one of Gabriel’s freshly baked blueberry muffins with the compelling urge to package one up to bring to Dean. A gift. To provide for him like a good alpha. “Oh, Cassie.” Gabriel sits back on the sofa, his tone turned upbeat. “You got that look in your eye.” "What look?” Castiel glares, feeling the heat of embarrassment rising to his cheeks. “Like you picked up a stray. What is it this time? You rescue a drowned cat?” Gabriel leans forward, his grin widening as Castiel remains silent. “A dog? Did it show up at your door all sad-eyed, and you had to take it in?” Castiel stays silent, discomfort prickling at his skin. Gabriel's eyes narrow with discerning curiosity. “No . . . this is different, isn’t it? Something else. Something untamable. And you like it. A challenge. I’d say you took in a raccoon, but that doesn’t feel right either.” Gabriel taps his fingers over the top of the sofa. “Come on, tell me.” “No.” “Tell me or I’m gonna swim over there myself and find out what you’re hiding.” Reluctantly, Castiel mutters, “I rescued an omega.” Gabriel's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “She hot? Tell me she’s hot,” he asks with an exaggerated eyebrow wiggle. Castiel sighs. “She’s a he.” “A rare male omega? The odds of—” “1 in 1.3 million. He had a flat tire outside my cabin.” “Whoa, bro. The chances of that are about the same as getting struck by lightning.” “He nearly did.”

DCBB 2024 Posting Schedule

[jensenscomedyelbows]

edit by the amazing and talented and generous @lemondropsonice

SPN FIC REC FEST #11

All-Time Favorites/Free Recs

The only pairing is Wincest

Most are explicit, but those that aren’t are marked accordingly.

THE FIREFLY THAT LOVED METALLICA by fleshflutter

Rated R, but WARNING: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH/RESURRECTION. I passionately adore this indescribably poignant story. Get tissues.

LIKE STARING INTO THE SUN by nyxocity

It was never about the girls. It was about them.

A new OFC in each part, until there are no more FCs at all and it’s just them.

There is also a sequel, linked to the original

RUN IT ALL OVER (THE WEST SERIES) by runawaydr3amer

I LOVE this series with a passion not too dissimilar from Sam and Dean’s for each other

When you live a life like theirs, chasing tail isn't always an option. But sometimes you just want someone to touch your dick, and your brother’s hand is as good as any.

THE LAST OUTPOST OF ALL THAT IS by gekizetsu

I’m sure this will end up on multiple lists during this event, as it’s a fandom classic that everyone loves. I don’t even want to try to describe it. 60K words. Casefic. First time. I think there’s some H/C. Beautiful. So so sad. Joy amidst the wreckage and heartache. I love it so much I should probably get the title tattooed on my body somewhere

NOT FOR SAMSON IN THE TEMPLE by maygra-fic

Coda to my all time favorite, see above. You have to read that one first to truly appreciate how this coda maintains the tone, voice, and prose quality. You feel like it’s from the same author, but surprise! it’s not, and that’s remarkable. Mature Sam and Dean. Elderly Sam and Dean

THE GHOST OF SOMEBODY AT HIS SIDE by runedgirl

Prepare to weep. When I need pain, this one guarantees I’ll get it. Author Description: The night before Sam Winchester meets with his 12th grade guidance counselor for the second time, something very bad happens. One of those somethings that takes only a ridiculously short amount of time – in this case, about three minutes – yet manages to change the course of two lives forever. Or: Sam goes to Stanford, and takes most of Dean's heart with him.

COGNITIVE DISSONANCE by Morgan

This one just…stuck with me. The events that unfold are awful for Dean in particular, but I’m sure it wasn’t a great time for Sam, either. Bobby makes an appearance. Angst for daaaaays, and NON CON/DUB CON warning is red-flag-level. Author Description: Sam loses his mind. It's that simple. Dean doesn't know what to do, but he's not going to walk away from this, he's never backed down in all his life. If you're looking for happy endings, don't come here. This shit is dark.

THE SILENCE OF A SUMMER DAY by wanttobeatree

***Everyone who loves the Winchesters should read this amazing future fic***

Rated PG. The world has moved on. This is their legacy. Haha, yes, of course I’m recommending this one again. No sex whatsoever! Weird, right?!?!

@spnficrecfest

RESTRAINT by DarkEmeralds

Free rec. Rated M. 200k+ words. It's not Spn or Wincest or even J2, not really. I guess it’s technically a J2 AU. I’m sneaking it in here because it’s an all-time favorite of mine. This might not be your cup of tea, fanfic wise. I certainly didn’t think it was mine. But but but…it’s absolutely lovely, it’s extremely well-written, the tone/voice/verbiage is accurate for its time, and it has a happy ending that made me cry HAPPY tears when I was finished. If you like historical romance, you’ll like this. It’s set in Regency England! Author Description: The calling card said Tristan Jarrett, Viscount Penrith. Beneath that, in a lazy scrawl, was the addendum Mr Acklebury, be so good as to wait on me tomorrow, number 10, Half Moon Street. Yours, &c., Penrith. Mr Acklebury was not sure how he felt about being thus summarily commanded to paint his lordship's portrait.

[thalialunacy]

[for the @calaisreno May Promptcation. two fills in one day wooooo that's how much i hate my job lolol]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) 24: imperfect (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31)

The silence that greets John as he walks up the seventeen steps, bags of groceries in hand, is perfectly ominous. He's only been gone two hours, for God's sake.

… but he's kidding himself if he thinks Rosie & Sherlock can't do a significant amount of damage in twenty minutes, let alone two hours.

He resigns himself to a huge repair bill and/or an angry Mrs Hudson, and opens the door.

Sherlock is stood in front of the sitting room table, holding a squirmy Rosie. 'Hello, John.'

'Hi Daddyyyyy.'

John raises an eyebrow. 'She's very excited about something.'

Sherlock clears his throat and looks down momentarily. 'Yes. Well. We may have had an exciting…incident.'

John sets the bags down on the kitchen table then walks back to face them. He runs his eyes over his daughter, but doesn't see any obvious damage. 'Any blood?' 

'Absolutely not,' Sherlock says immediately.

'On either of you?' John amends.

Sherlock shifts Rosie in his arms. 'Not important.'

'Alright, I'll bite. What is important, then?'

'Well, first we need to apologise, because we may have--'

'Broke bowl,' Rosie interrupts him firmly.

John shakes his head. 'We break bowls all the time, I don't--'

Sherlock moves aside, and John sees what's on the sitting room desk behind him.

'Oh,' he says shortly, his heart plummeting somewhere into his belly. On the table sits a sad pile of ceramic shards where once a handmade bowl had stood.

His eyes start to sting. John has very little left of his mum, and she'd been especially proud of that bowl. He can feel his heart rate increase as anger begins singing through him.

'I'm so sorry, John.' Sherlock's voice is low, and John's gaze snaps to him. His cool eyes are muddled with worry, and that's enough to jolt John into action.

'Need a minute, thanks,' he says, enunciating clearly, and Sherlock doesn't hesitate to nod, then reaches for a toy with which to distract Rosie.

John closes his eyes and doesn't count to ten; instead he forces air into his lungs, pictures his baby girl, and begins to count her toes and fingers. This he does, over and over and over again, until he can breathe, until he feels the anger slip and slide on its way, transforming into resignation and maybe even a glimmer of acceptance.

It is what it is.

He opens his eyes and breathes out. His body feels loose, almost depleted, but the red haze is gone. 'What happened?' he asks, throat a bit rough, as he approaches the table. Part of the bowl is actually intact, though there are a few small cracks running along it like wrinkles.

'We were playing aeroplane,' Sherlock explains, 'and her feet made an unexpected landing, one could say.'

John's lips twitch. 'And you're all right? You didn't try to heroically save the shards and end up slicing your hand open?'

Sherlock's face-- John's not sure what to make of it, exactly, but he has the feeling that as soon as they've settled in for the night he's going to have the living daylights kissed out of him. He is very much on board.

'It's just a little cut,' Sherlock says. 'And I already have a plaster on it.' He shifts Rosie and holds up the wounded finger in evidence.

It's a Sesame Street plaster, and that for some reason breaks John. He feels laughter shake through his limbs. 'Oh, Christ,' he says, wiping his eyes and looking up at Sherlock. A final chuckle escapes him, then he nods. 'You know what we're going to do?'

'What are we going to do?'

'We're going to declare that what was once a bowl is now an ashtray. In its final form, like.'

Sherlock lets out a surprised huff of laughter. 'An ashtray, you say?'

Rosie is not to be left out. 'What's ash tray?'

John and Sherlock exchange a look, but Sherlock speaks first. 'Something that will sit on our shelf, right here--' He walks over to the bookshelf by the fireplace. '--right next to the one that we s--'

John clears his throat.

'--acquired from the Palace.'

Rosie perks up, no longer interested in the ashtrays one little bit. 'Palace?'

Sherlock realises he's landed into some Prince & Princess Time a split second too late to do anything about it. 'Yes, palace,' he ad libs. 'In the sky!'

Rosie's eyes go wide, and the corner of John's mouth turns up. 'Well done.' He walks over to where they're standing and kisses them both. 'I'm going to put away the groceries and see about tea, all right?'

Sherlock leans in and kisses him again before he can move away. 'Thank you,' he says quietly while shifting Rosie to his other side. 'I know that's difficult for you.'

John nods in acknowledgement, and picks up the newly-christened ashtray one more time. 'Looks a little… rough, but should work fine.'

'It has character,' Sherlock replies.

'Personality.'

'An origin story.'

'A palace!' Rosie interjects, throwing her hands up in the air.

John's grin matches Sherlock's smirk. 'Close enough.'

[ <3 ]

And we get a little further from perfection Each year on the road / I think that's called 'character'; I think that's Just the way it goes

[inspired by 'Imperfectly' by Ani Difranco, from the album Imperfectly, which I have been listening to obsessively bc of this, and it's been a marvellous, self-indulgent time.]

[hungermakesmonsters]

Congratulations for the first 500!!! 🎇🎆🌞😎

I'd love something with Billy Russo. (With a Reader would be lovely, but he is fine alone too.) For reasons unknown I was reminded of Hulme's poetry. I hope that maybe this fragment inspires you.

That warmth’s the very stuff of poesy.

Oh, God, make small

The old star-eaten blanket of the sky,

That I may fold it round me and in comfort lie.

So, I wasn't familiar with that poem but after reading it, it gave me major angsty vibes (I'm so sorry if that's not what you were wanting/expecting). It wasn't the sort of angst that I could really attribute to any version of Billy I've written so this is a sad little stand alone thing. And I kind of strayed from my normal style for this one, so I hope you like it! 😅😅

Cold

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : PG 

Warnings : angst and suggestion of cheating (though in my head it probably wasn't more than kissing)

The night sky used to be a comfort.

As a child he'd look up and see all the stars in the sky and think about how big the universe must be and it made him feel less alone.

But now — now it was suffocating its vastness, empty, lonely. Smothering.

The stars no longer shine like fairy lights, instead they're pinpricks in the sky letting all the light and joy seep out.

The world is cold and destitute, it's empty and lonely.

And it has been since the day you left.

He's a broken man now, made of fractured pieces held together by nothing more than some sick cosmic joke. All because of you. All because he dared to love you in the only way he knew how. Poorly.

Your words still echo in his mind as he walks, a half burned down cigarette all but forgotten between his fingers; 'when will it be enough, Billy? When will you have enough?'

He didn't know then that he already had everything, that he had the whole world in his hands. So, he kept wanting, kept chasing more and more, not realising that you were slowly slipping from his grasp.

Warm moments became cold as the distance grew between you.

He thought you were pushing him out but, really, he was the one finding it harder and harder to close the distance between you.

Drink tells him to blame his childhood, his malformed understanding of love — he's broken, you should have known that from the start, and you shouldn't blame him for what happened because of it.

But, even in his stupor he isn't that selfish, that ignorant.

He doesn't want to admit it, but it was easy. Far easier than he ever would have imagined; drink and playful words whispered in the wrong ear, hands straying to places they shouldn't. It was an empty display that left him with nothing but regret and the knowledge that he was going to lose you.

He broke your trust.

He broke you.

The dying embers of the cigarette burn his fingers and he thinks that it's the only thing he's felt in weeks. The first sensation in his numb body since you'd slapped him, since you reached into his chest and tore out his heart with nothing but two little words. It's over.

The love was gone, just like that.

And for what?

He can't say. Even now, weeks later, he doesn't understand why.

Maybe it's some fault of his character, some defect he can't correct. Or maybe it was fear — fear of allowing himself the happiness that he found with you, fear of it being taken from him. He cut off the limb early and cauterised the wound before there was even an infection to stop.

He hurt himself then to save himself from agony later.

But, as he walks — stumbles, really — he knows that he was wrong, that it was too late. The infection had already spread. It was him all along, he was the infection, the rotting flesh that needed cutting away in order for you to be free.

He loved you.

He loves you.

His eyes flicker skywards again, hoping for something, some spark of the comfort he used to find there, something to see him over until he's with you again, until he wins you back.

Even the familiar streets mock him, taunt him with memories of you; huddled beneath a blue umbrella together in the rain, or you snuggled into your hat and scarf when it snowed. How many times did you walk these streets together? How many times has he taken this path to meet you?

The road seems longer alone, like he'll never reach you, never find his way back to you.

Billy knows that he shouldn't be there, that you don't want to see him or hear from him again — dozens of unanswered called and text messages are a testament to that — but he can't stop.

You're the only light he sees at the end of a very long tunnel.

The stairs to your door feel insurmountable, his lungs straining in his chest with every step.

How long has he been walking in the freezing cold, no coat, no jacket to protect him from the winter wind?

His hand trembles and aches as he grips the rail, closing the distance step by step. He has to see you — even if it is just one more time. He thinks that maybe he'll survive this if he gets that much; one last chance to see you, one last chance to say goodbye.

When he reaches your door, he thinks of the spare key in his pocket and ow it probably no longer fits the lock. He doesn't try it. Even in his desperation to see you, he knows that that wouldn't be fair.

So, he knocks.

And he waits.

And waits.

And when the door opens and he sees you again, he realises what he's lost and that the pain he feels will never go away.

"Billy?" You say.

And it just too much to hear your voice after so long without it. His legs buckle and he drops to his knees, and all the sobs he's held back for weeks claw their way to the surface, leaving him a broken mess in front of you.

"I'm sorry," he gasps out as his body shakes from the cold and the force of his sobs. "You were right about everything."

He doesn't know how long he stays there, how long he cries and apologises before you drop to your knees and gather him in your arms, letting him feel your warmth again.

[meangreennunseen]

Something so painful and sad about Primarch children if you think about concept more.

They were born/acquired against all odds and engineering. They came to be raised by one of the most powerful beings in the galaxy, they came to be loved by something not entirely human and in some circumstances even inherited that sub-humanity. They were raised with love and care, as best as their Father could give them, with Mother either around or no. In some cases their mother was gone due to short life span of humans or maybe due to something humans usually subdue to. But not child of Primarch, because those superb genetics kept them alive.

Heresy happens and suddenly all happy life they knew is gone as it tore their family apart, their father most likely ended up dead/corrupted/missing, no longer there as Heresy took its toll. They, as a child, now have to figure things on their own. Their place, their duty and it's not always easy: depending on what happened with their father, their fate is sealed: A loyalist worthy of Emperor's graces. A traitor who deserved death. Someone who's Father left to pay for humanity's sins.

Slowly over centuries, their people and their legions either worship them as a saint or hate them as a lialability. There is no in between.

Worst they can do is run. How far until they are out of destiny's reach? Or they can stand and face the music: either placed on pedestal as Worthy heir and proclaimed Primarch Secundus or flailed and pushed to worship of Chaos as only means. Or maybe even ignored as Not Good Enough.

At any rate, they, children of Primarchs have their fates written off for them since the day their Fathers planted that first kiss on their little foreheads.

[brandyllyn]

Silk from their soul (22)

The Ghoul / Cooper Howard x f!reader [no use of y/n]

Rated: E (Dirty talk, PIV) Words: 1.6k Summary: Make me immortal

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

They ain’t watching him near as close as they oughta.

It’s been four days of cross-country trekking, and by his count they couldn’t be more than another day or two from the Stateline. Any moment now they were liable to run into some patrol and while this bunch were treating him like a colleague it was anyone’s guess what Nero’s own crew might do.

His time was running out.

Unfortunately, they were keeping double watch now - one person always watching her and the other keeping a more general eye on things. It made taking them by surprise difficult, and they weren’t quite stupid enough to arm him.

Tonight was the first exception. They’d made camp in an old building that happened to have working doors. After a pretty thorough check they’d locked her inside, tied to some piece of the structure.

“I hear fellas like you can live a long time,” Sancho says after some time passes. His name weren’t Sancho but Cooper hadn’t been arsed to learn his name the first time around and he wasn’t starting now.

“Depends on what you think is long.”

“I heard of a guy who’s been alive since before the bombs fell,” Panza chimes in. Panza isn’t his favorite, he’s the one who hit her. He’s going to die soon - he just doesn’t know it yet.

“Ain’t no one been around that long,” Sancho scoffs.

Cooper barely pays them any attention, staring into the small fire. Well, past it actually, where the youngest of the three had disappeared not ten minutes ago.

It’s been dead silent since. He’s not sure he’d even be able to hear them talking, but he’s pretty sure he could hear her if she screamed. That door wouldn’t do jack shit to stop him if she did.

“You know we ain’t sharing the bounty, right?” Panza asks with a small frown. “Ain’t nothing against you, ghoul. Just that three’s two too many already if you ask me.”

Cooper cuts his eyes the man’s direction. “I ain’t looking for the bounty - hoping I might be able to find more work. Something to do. Getting bored out here with you shitheads.”

The man laughs just as Cooper intended. “Well that’ll be-”

The door slams open and the Kid stomps out, clutching the water and the small bag of rations. “She says she don’t want nothin’.”

“What do you mean… tell her she ain’t got a choice. She ain’t eaten since she tried to run off.”

“I tried that, but you said-”

Cooper’s on his feet already, seeing the opportunity and taking it. “I’ll do it.” The trio eye him skeptically and he cocks his head at them. “She trusts me. ‘Sides, this way you only got one thing to guard.”

None of them trusted him, which was fair, and he’d slept like a baby even as he listened to the racing heartbeat of whoever had been assigned watch the last few nights. He was counting on lack of sleep being a helluva persuader.

“Nah, you’re right. We’ll unlock you in the morning.”

Perfect.

Cooper waits for the door to close, adjusting his eyes to the dim light from above. The room is solid walls with a dirt floor, the only point of entrance the gaping hole in the ceiling and the woman tied to a post in its center.

“Brought you some vittles.”

“I said I wasn’t hungry.”

“You need to put some food in your system or you won’t make it to the Stateline.”

She looks up at him, eyes wide and sad and it’s a kick to the gut. “When will we get there?”

“Tomorrow, I reckon. Maybe the day after.”

She nods thoughtfully and rests her head on her folded arms once more. The ropes around her ankles shift slightly as she moves and he maneuvers carefully to sit beside her, leaning back against the same rock.

“If you plan to starve yourself to death you’re going to need more time.”

She laughs softly, “Not sure I even could. With how I heal and all.”

He considers that for a moment and passes her the water. After a long moment she takes it, gulping it down before handing it back. “Reckon tonight is our best chance to get free.”

“I don’t think-” she starts and he turns on her sharply. When he doesn’t say anything she continues, “I think I have to go, actually.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? After all this fuss you’re just going to give in?”

If looks could kill he’d be a pile of ash. “I have to put a stop to this - to more people like me and assholes like him buying them.”

“Ah,” he says softly. “So this is a vengeance mission.”

“You got a problem with that?”

“Not a bit, I’ve been on a fair few in my time.” He passes her some food and she eyes it before nibbling on the edge. “The problem is those kinds of journeys tend to be one way.” She shrugs and it makes something in his chest hurt. “Now darlin’, you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking.”

“I’ll do what I have to,” she pauses, then gives him a sidelong glance, “anything I have to.” Suddenly she turns to him fully, those gorgeous eyes of hers shining in the moonlight. “You think we’ll get there tomorrow?”

“Or the next day, it ain’t far now.”

She nods, biting her lip. And then she’s in motion. Before he can think. Before he can block her. Before he can do anything - she’s in his lap, throwing her arms over his head, and she’s kissing him.

She’s kissing him.

Whatever the danger is, it’s too late now. He sinks into it, wrapping an arm around her waist and reaching one hand up to clutch at her shoulder. Her tongue is everywhere, licking along his lips and teeth and he meets her with equal fervor. It lasts so long he runs out of breath, breaking away with a gasp and staring into her eyes.

He waits.

Nothing happens.

No light-headedness. No burning. No neurotoxin or chemical or anything at all in fact. Hell, other than a raging hard-on he feels exactly the same.

She looks dazed, blinking up at him before pulling him back for another kiss.

He ain’t ever been one to tell a lady no.

He guides her legs over his hips, settling her in his lap while she tries to suck his soul out of his mouth. Everything is hot and wet and he can feel her through his pants, soaking the fabric.

“Ah sweetheart,” he groans, slipping his hand under her panties to cup her ass. She grinds down in return, rocking on top of him in a mimicry of exactly what he wants as well.

“Lift up,” he tells her, “let me get these off of you.”

She does as he says, coming to her knees and letting him pull her panties down til they hang on one ankle.

“Tell me you want this,” he growls, licking into her mouth. “Tell me to fuck you, just like this.”

“I want it,” she nearly sobs, fingers digging into the back of his neck, “Fuck me, fuck me just like this.”

They moan together when he slides inside. It’s just as he remembers, tight and hot and so unbelievably good his eyes roll back in his head. Her mouth is everywhere, sucking on his neck, licking up to his ear, teeth biting at his lips. He tries to slow her down, to guide her with a hand on the nape of her neck, but she digs her fingernails into the back of his head and he lets her take the lead.

Lets her take him.

Everything is gasping softness, breaths mingling as they pant into each other’s mouths. He brings his hand around to cup her jaw, urging her to take his tongue. To give hers in return. And the entire time she’s moving on top of him, clutching him inside her.

“Ah fuck darlin’,” he groans. “I ain’t gonna last. Can you come like this?”

“Maybe,” she gasps in return. “I don’t know.”

He moves his hands to her waist, guiding her body into slow undulating rolls. “What do you need?”

“Make me,” she moans, pulling him in for another kiss, “tell me what to do. Make me yours.”

A low growl rumbles from his chest and he shifts so he can get his knees under him. Now he has power behind his thrusts, fucking up into her and touching something so deep it makes her whimper. 

“That’s it, fuck yourself on me,” he tells her. “And when I tell you to you’re going to come. Ain’t that right?” She nods, mouth open on his cheek and he grins. “That’s a good girl.”

One hand claws at the front of her dress and she helps him, moving her arms so he can shove it down and watch her breasts bounce with every roll of his hips. He covers one with his hand, catching the nipple between two fingers and pinching it hard.

“Come for me, come all over my cock.”

She does. Oh how she does. She screams and he cuts her off with his mouth, swallowing it down and feeling her pussy milking him so hard he comes too. Spilling inside and filling her up just like he’d been thinking of doing since the first moment he saw her on that damned radio tower.

Only he had never imagined that she would kiss him so sweetly afterwards. That she would pull bound wrists from behind his neck and cup his face in her hands and fucking make love to his mouth with the gentlest of nibbles and sweeps of her tongue.

“Again?” she asks once she catches her breath. Her mouth covers his and he can barely think straight as she licks inside.

Yeah. Sure. Again. Anything she wants. Always.

☢ ☢ ☢

For updates follow and turn on notifications for @brandyllyn-writes

[little-emerald-snake]

Kinktober Day 28

Primal - Sebastian Sallow X F!MC

🔥NSFW 🔞 MDNI

1.4k words

It had all started when Sebastian had caught his kindred spirit sneaking out of the dorms late at night. He’d been up late reading on the common room couch when he saw her sneak by in what she thought was an undetected fashion.

He’d gotten up, carefully placing his book off to the side to follow her outside of the castle walls. She’d made her way all the way to the entrance of the Forbidden Forest before he’d revealed himself and questioned her. “Not off to naughty places in the dead of night are you? Sounds too much like something I’d do.”

She’d jumped, panic clutching at her heart as she turned to face him. Her body doing its best to process the correct action for this threat. “Oh! Sebastian! I can explain. I just…erm…”

Sebastian straightened, crossing his arms with a cocky smirk across his lips. Her resolve faltered when she took in his mussed hair and rolled sleeves. She experienced an odd sort of de ja vu as the dream she’d just woken from in her bed seemed to flash in front of her eyes.

In the dream, none other than Hogwart’s best dueling had been chasing her through the forbidden forest, causing her heart rate to skyrocket. She had woken from the dream in a sweaty heap on the bed when her dream Sebastian had pinned her to a tree and stated just how thoroughly he’d defile her against it.

Needless to say, ending up in the forbidden forest with the man who'd just taken her so lustfully in her dreams was a bit of a shock. Still in disbelief she picked the skin of her arm just to make sure she wasn't sleeping again and was somewhere between pleased and sad to realize she was indeed awake.

The pinch wasn't lost on Sebastian’s speculative eyes as they took in her lack of composure. His coffee brown orbs traced up the skin of her arms to the rapid rise and fall of her chest. “What’s got you so worked up? Is everything okay?”

He’d stepped forward to comfort her and she stumbled backwards away from him to keep the distance between them. Not yet trusting enough of herself to keep her from saying or doing something stupid.

Sebastian crossed his arms again, leaning his weight all on one foot. “What's going on with you? You look as if you've seen a ghost. Although knowing you. Perhaps you have.”

She swallowed hard, giving a hesitant laugh as she adjusted her footing. She took a deep breath and tried to will the oxygen to process in her racing mind. “I erm, woke from a strange dream and I’m getting an odd bit of deja vu is all. Nothing to be so concerned for. I just came for a walk to clear my mind.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Hm. Yes. A calming walk in the Forbidden Forest to calm the mind in the dead of night. Sounds just like what you need. Let’s see, what was this ‘dream’ of yours about. Hm?”

She swallowed, the composure she’d just gained flying right out the window. “Oh erm, well I…hardly find it appropriate to share with a classmate.”

A dark chuckle left his mouth and he took a slow step toward her. “Ah I see. You're having dirty dreams about me and you in the Forbidden Forest then? How uncouth of you to be getting me involved in a scandal even while you sleep.”

Her mouth was far too dry to respond to him or react when he took another small step toward her. “You know, if you share what exactly happened in your dream, maybe I’ll find it in myself not to take the knowledge of your little night adventure to the headmaster. I’m sure he’d be very interested in speaking to you.”

Her eyes met his and her stomach sank as she realized he looked entirely serious. “Y-You want to hear what happened in my dream? Why?”

He shrugged, leaning his body against a nearby tree. “Call it curiosity. Call it a fantasy. Really call it whatever you like. But using your dirty dreams as fodder for my own surely sounds quite pleasant. Especially knowing what my new charge really thinks about me behind closed doors.”

She sighed, pushing the part of her that gave off every alarm bell in the book, deep, deep down inside of her and stuffing it under the wave of teenage hormones that surfaced. “W-well…in the dream you’d brought me out here to scavenge for something you’d found in a book from the restricted section. B-but in order to get the thing to show up…we had to induce the fear of the hunted.”

His eyes widened in surprise as he listened to her. “S-so you had me run and you hunted me down…and it excited me…made my adrenaline spike and you sensed it…and decided to…do something else with me as a thank you for helping you.”

He unfolded his arms, giving her a look and taking in the small details he hadn't before. The rise and fall of her chest, her pink cheeks, her thighs pressed tightly together. “So this dream, it has you quite worked up, right?”

She nodded, embarrassment flaming to life on her cheeks as she took a breath. “In truth, yes. I can’t say I’m not attracted to it. I’m sorry for dreaming such things about you but It’s not like I meant to do it.”

He grinned, stepping forward to close the gap between them. “Oh my dear. There’s no need to be sorry for the pleasurable little dreams your mind makes up. But, if for some reason you want those little dreams to come true…all you need to do is ask.”

His eyes had darkened as he said it, causing her heart rate to pick up as he stepped back and watched her fumble over her words. Next thing she knew, she was giving him a small nod, causing a satisfied growl to leave him as well as his own nod. “Run.”

She gasped, turning and immediately taking off into the Forbidden Forest. She ran, fast and faster, as hard as her legs could take her while she held her Hogwarts robes in her hands to avoid snagging or tripping over the edges of it.

She kept running, hard. She could hear his deep rumbling chuckle all around her it seemed. No matter how fast or how hard she ran. She could see him all around her. This was even better than her dream.

Her heart nearly stopped when she flicked her head forward only to halt in her tracks. Standing smugly in front of her was none other than Sebastian Sallow not looking like he’s ran for even half a minute.

Sebastian moved forwards and grasped her shoulder, twisting them so her back was placed against the tree. She had bits of twigs and leaves in her hair from the brush she’d run through and he chuckled, plucking it out of her hair.

Once he had her back pinned against the tree she stuttered uselessly over her words while he pressed her back against the bark, only protected by her school robes.

He chuckled darkly, pinning her harshly as he lifted her skirts. She moaned pleasurably as he pulled his wand, binding her to the tree with a simple spell. “Silly witch. Exerting so much energy to run with those pretty legs instead of just using magic.”

She whimpered as invisible ropes pinned her to the tree. The rough pads of Sebastian’s fingers brushed against the soft sensitive skin of her thighs as he held her skirts up. “Do you want me to fuck you against this tree darling?”

She whimpered, nodding enthusiastically. He smiled, undoing his trousers, pulling himself out and sliding her underwear to the side. “Not a very proper lady are you? Just wanting a quick and dirty fuck in forbidden places we aren’t even allowed. Such a dirty girl for me. My perfect girl.”

He plunged himself inside her heat, gritting his teeth and grunting as her soaking wet core willingly accepted him. She moaned as he filled her inch by delicious inch. Crying out when he bottomed out inside of her.

He was merciless, taking his pleasure and using her pliant body. She clenched eagerly as his hips postponed into her tightness. He fucked her hard, groaning at her walls tightening around her. “Merlin, you're so tight. Gonna cum around my cock already?”

She writhed under the invisible binds, body willing and needy as she tightened around him, moaning unabashedly. “Fuck, you really are gonna cum. That’s a good girl. Let go for me, pretty little thing.”

Her head smacked backwards against the bark as she constricted around him desperately. He practically growled in her ear as she fell apart, his own orgasm following quickly behind hers, filling her warmth as his teeth sunk deep into her neck.

Kinktober Prompt List

[vvh0adie]

watching my friends leave tumblr is really sad

you literally can't win

at this point the writer's strike should just be a cultural movement

like ppl are writing for FREE and you're complaining about turn out rate and shit

we have lives and some of us (HELL ALL OF US) have some form of mental illness, so we can't be fucking cogs all day and churn out fics.

writing is suppose to be therapeutic and writers want to share that with you to ease the tension of this hellscape we live in

but some of these readers and even fellow writers are taking it too far with the bullying

like its mean and nasty. you don't know what someone is going thru.

instead of asking for updates how about check and see if your writer is mentally stable to do so. that right there is a booster, to have someone say "are you okay?"

and then the whole accusations of favoring a certain member/character. if that person is my muse or safe space then of course imma write for them. most solo writers i see don't even talk bad about other people. its a SOLO account. think of it as a shrine blog of writing if that helps. they're not there to trash, just share their writing for other's who might also share the same muse.

then you have readers who can't separate fiction from reality. just because someone writes a character with irl people faceclaimed onto them doesnt mean they actually think that person would be or do those things irl. i'll be the first to say that i only gave my characters bts faces cuz thats who im attracted to and they're who i imagine would be casted to play my characters.

then IN THE YEAR OF 2023 we still have ppl making fun of their peers writing and also THE FACT THAT ENGLISH MIGHT NOT BE THEIR FIRST LANGUAGE? that's nasty asf. majority of us dont even speak 'proper' english as our first language no way. you only shooting yourself in the foot. don't act like you dont have beta readers... like what are yall on?

and anybody who gets on THAT BLOG behind anon is an opp. not just to the writing community but in how you interact with the world all together. yall don't know how to talk to people anymore? it may have started as a place for critique and accountability but no one is bringing receipts or critical thinking anymore. its mainly for drama and not rehabilitation. yall serious scare me in how we'd see the reality of social change applied to the real world. like i'd be more scared to let yall around the prisoners with minor offenses cuz yall act like its the end of the world and that change cant happen. yall give nobody room to change ignorant stances but ignore the real egregious shit because you honestly dont have the bandwidth to take on actual fascist views.

also the plagiarism has got to stop too. if you need writing resources just ask. but practice makes perfect. so you're gonna have to write yourself. you may not like your writers voice but you will feel shitty in the long run when you don't feel like its you putting those words on the paper. it literally just prolongs your inferiority. make something you're proud of and don't hurt your fellow writers. we went thru the process just like you. we earned it. and most of us aren't gatekeepers, we will help you.

like its really tuff being on here sometimes. cuz if you not being hounded by readers its your own community praying on your down fall.

we have to do better.