#and Jon just breaks down into apologies and stuff

[wow-an-unfunny-joke]

If I wrote a time travel au (Jon and Martin go back in time to first season archives after 200) where because of future intervention there’s a lot less trauma, and with less horrors to worry about past Jon begins to question his gender and starts experimenting with it- and it freaks future Jon out because ‘what tf do you mean I’m trans and never figured it out because Trauma????’

Would anyone read it?

[thebadchoicemachine]

Jonah raised Jon AU

Can't get this AU out of my head where Jon was adopted and raised by James Write and then later taken under the care of Elias Bouchard, as per his father’s will.

1.) He's raised to be the perfect eye avatar and Knows plenty pretty quickly—even the stuff “Elais” never told him. He's helping Elias search for the perfect avatars to be part of their ritual (if only because it’s what been ingrained in his head since he was 8. It’s no different than studying for college to him. It’s simply something he, as an Avatar, does.)

2.) One day, when he’s just turned 18, he runs into a few people hanging out at a cafe. Or, more accurately, a person ran into him. With a bike.

3.) (Martin didn’t mean to hurt Jon. He saw a hot regal-looking guy outside a cafe and started daydreaming about a meet cute and then… oops. He’s not sure how it even happened, it was like something yanked the handlebars of his bike)

4.) While Jon and Martin are laying on the ground—Martin apologizing like his bloody life depends on it and Jon cussing him out, wondering why he didn't See this this coming—two baristas come out to help.

5.) Tim and Sasha burst out the front door, clambering to get a break from work help with the commotion outside the shop.

6.) After more outrage from a (much more entitled) Jon, Tim ends up calming everyone down with his charm and some pastries. They end up talking after Jon gathers his composure and demure. He finds the three intriguing and resolves to be friendly with them, even if only as an act to dig into their minds.

He ends up having a surprisingly good time, though.

7.) Also, Tim hits on everyone a bunch because you cannot escape polyarchives even here, though he's mostly joking.

8.) That evening Jon returns home with some news for his father. He explains the three people he met and how he was drawn to them… as possible avatars to be used.

Martin was the strongest, tormented by the Lonely and with a fierce potential for the Web. Jon could tell that, as sincere as he was trying to be, Martin was manipulating the converversation to paint himself as far more pathetic than he was. He wanted Jon to pity him. For what purpose? Seemingly nothing more sinister than wanting a connection of some kind. He was good at it too; if Jon didn't Know it, he'd never have guessed.

Tim had a deep-seated hatred of the stranger, though he didn't know what it was, making the connection rather vague. He hid it well, but there was a hunger in him for revenge and a willingness for violence. It wasn't purposeless or self-indulgent like the Desolation would feed from, but there was a seed to work with.

Sasha was the least interesting Avatar-wise. She was hard to read, which could be a sign of the Dark or Stranger, but she also had a drive about her that could feed the Hunt quite nicely if driven to extreams.

9.) Elias nods, thanks him for his reconnaissance, and lets him go to bed.

10.) Jon tries to sleep but lays awake that night, thinking about his first genuine interaction with people since he was eight. He was extremely sheltered living with his father, both bodies, and his interactions were limited to small talk and supernatural beings. Despite doing it for his father’s mission, he found that talking with them to be oddly freeing and even a little fun. “Elias Bouchard” was technically his gaurdien, not his father, and he was 18 now. He could argue for more freedom. Barring that, he was getting strong enough that Elias couldn't read him anymore, and he could tell when he was. Maybe, after a decade of being under All Knowing observation 24/7, he could allow himself another attempt at rebellion.

More of this AU under #Jonah raised Jon AU

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

Woes of a Modern Day Love

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 21.2k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, abusive relationships, pining, male masterbation, domestic violence, unhealthy alcohol consumption, implied sexual abuse, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v

Notes: A modern!au of my main series, no knowledge of that fic is required though. Also if you thought this was going to be a fluff filled funny fic, I'm so sorry you must be new to my blog. Series Masterlist Here

Jon Snow could still recall that day as if it had just occurred. Six months had passed since then, and yet it currently felt like an utter lifetime of endless suffering. The way he knew right away as he picked up the phone that something was very wrong, how much you were trying to be quiet without crying and the swiftness in which you hung up as soon as yelling could be heard on the other end.

He had all but knocked his chair over how fast he got up before running out of the door, yelling back to Sam to tell Commander Mormont he'd apologize for leaving like this later. By his estimation as he had gotten into his car, it would take about five hours to get there if he, perhaps, didn't quite follow the speed limits. Double checking he still had something in his glove box, Jon shifted things around to prepare before leaving.

As morose of a thing it was to say, Jon had been long since preparing for it. Not a man to rub it in your face how much of a mistake he thought you had been making, but Jon did not sit idly by and wait for it all to implode leaving you stranded and alone. Jon had known this was coming since the day you had told him you were dating Karl Tanner. Not many men were known to be kicked out of the Nights Watch, but he had been one of them and Jon still could not fathom how he had convinced you to date him.

Or what he said to talk you into moving away from your friends and loved ones, to live with him five hours away.

But you were an adult, and Jon couldn't coddle you from the world. He couldn't just lock you in your room and tell you to break up with him. But he did know for a certain that when Jon had been the one originally planned to drive you there, Karl took it upon himself to pick you up instead. He knew why, giving Jon five hours alone with you was giving him five hours of time to talk you out of it.

No music played on his radio, he never bothered connecting his bluetooth, he only drove five hours in a seething silence, hand tense on the steering wheel counting down each mile remained. By the time he could see the house in the distance, you were waiting. Front door closed, you sat on the steps with your arms wrapped around your knees and a bag next to you.

The second you heard the sound of an approaching car you stood. Within the instant Jon got out of the car, he could see every sign you had been trying to hide the fact that you were previously crying but he didn't care for a second. Pulling you to him, his eyes wide and painting over with such a worry as he cupped your cheeks, “Did he hurt you?”

Jon was not convinced by the weak manner in which your tone said no. But you shook your head still barley finding the courage to grasp lightly at his waist, only a cracked whisper coming from you realizing he was still in his Nights Watch attire, that he had left the Wall to get here. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have made you-”

One hand running over the hair at the side of your head, Jon rasped gently. “No, darling. None of this is your fault.” Trailing off for a moment he glanced down to the small bag you had, no bigger then a gym bag and not even full by the looks of it. “Where's the rest of your stuff?”

Avoiding his eyes, you shook your head again, “It's fine, I just want to leave.” Jon asked far firmer that time, why you didn't have your things with you when your eyes drifted nervously to the side.

Narrowing down, grey eyes tinting down to more of a black, Jons voice grew rougher. “You had a full car worth of things,” gesturing down to the bag in your hand. “This isn't even enough for overnight.” It was the way he could tell you were biting your tongue to keep quiet that made him angry all over again. Either you were too scared to go back in and get the rest of it, or Karl wasn't letting you but either way meant he was still in the house.

Saying he'll go in, you suddenly perked up. Eyes going wide and almost trying to push him, or more, the both of you away from the door. “No, Jon, it's- it doesn't matter let's just go.” Jon persisted, one hand firmly on your upper arm keeping you in place as the other stayed on your cheek, you trying one last time. “I don't care, it isn't a big deal.”

Rasping in a soothing low voice, he assured you. “It won't take long.” But it was then he realized in a manner of speaking, why you hadn't wanted to press the issue. Karl had opened the door, and leaning against the frame his voice rung out with the same condescension he always had towards him.

“Lord Snow, of course you're the one who comes to her rescue.” Jaw clenching instantly, still with the childish nickname. He was the direct assistant to his stations Lord Commander, and so the nickname had passed amongst those who didn't like him as a way to mock his position. “I told her she can get the rest of her stuff, she's the one who didn't want to come back in. Not my fault.”

You looked up at Jon, imploring him to simply listen to you and leave, but his eyes had yet to leave Karl's with a growing rage burning in his blood. “And why would she be too scared to come back in, Tanner? What did you do to her?”

You tried calling Jons name, but he merely guided you to stand behind him as he took a step towards the unmoving man at the door frame. “Who says I did anything? Why don't you ask her.” Raising a smug eyebrow towards you behind him, “Go on sweetheart, tell him what caused our little disagreement.”

Jon hadn't yet realized his voice was already raising. “I heard you screaming at her on the phone, you call that a disagreement?”

Karl only shrugged, still as smug as before. “She likes to play rough, don't you?” Looking back to you once more Jon somewhat shoved you behind him far more down the grass. Muttering for you to wait in the car, and the second you tried to convince him to leave, Karl kept making it all the worse. “See, she doesn't listen to me, doesn't listen to you. Got ourselves a trouble maker, we do.”

Jon spoke over whatever you tried to say. “How about you stop talking, let me get her stuff and leave so you can tell Rast and Locke all about how you scared me into running away, and we can move on with our lives.”

“Of course.” Turning suspiciously to the side as if to give him space to walk in, but Jon didn't move yet when Karl couldn't help himself. “Take your time, I'll stay out here with our girl and make sure she doesn't wind up getting into even more trouble. Or, maybe you'd prefer her more then a little broken in?”

The second Jon moved, you had swiftly put yourself in front of him. Pushing him back, barley making any difference as he looked up, and you desperately tried to get him to look at you. “Jon, please, I just want to go.” Glancing down, his eyes softened almost instantly. “Please.” Swallowing roughly, he nodded.

Without another word, he had grabbed your arm to turn you around and once more push you ahead of him. Ensuring you were in the car first as he watched with a deathly glare at Karl the whole time. But not before one last thing came out of his mouth, now that you were in the car and Karl was sure only Jon would hear him. “If I were you Lord Snow, I'd ask her what it was she said while I was fucking her this morning that started the argument. I'm sure you'd find the answer rather interesting.”

Jon said nothing of it, slamming the car door before leaving without another word. And it took well over five silent minutes after that for you to find your voice to try and apologize. With not a shred of the harshness anymore, Jon dismissed your every attempt. Instead shifting the conversation to ask you what you brought.

“Toothbrush, toothpaste, my phone, journal, and a few clothes.” Jon asked calmly about your laptop and a glance to the side he caught you shaking your head. If he were to guess, Karl had likely already called Rast and Locke. They'd trash most of your things and sell what was left. You had sat outside already knowing you'd never get your stuff back.

Without skipping a beat, Jon simply told you “We'll go out tomorrow and I'll buy you a new one.” Protesting with a call of his name, Jon shut it down. “No arguing. I'll move things around when we get to the apartment. You can stay in my office, so the computer in there's yours but you need things of your own. We'll get whatever else you need too, clothes, furniture,” Still you protested weakly, but there wasn't any shortness in his tone. Only a gentleness mixed in with nothing but deep affection. “I have the money, you don't. You don't have to stay with us if you don't want too, but I'm still going to make sure you're alright.”

Now though, Jon could remember glancing back to you. The brightness in your eyes that he suspected you hadn't had in months as intense as you nodded a single yes to him. He never asked what it was Karl meant, it wasn't his place and you were upset, so he forgot about it.

You stayed in the apartment, no one was rushing to see you go. Jons brother Robb had known you as long as Jon, and in your own words, was just as frustratingly insistent at getting you back on your feet. The other in the apartment, a very old friend of the three of you, Theon had clearly enjoyed having you around again as well. The pair of you found your previous friendship picking up easily, acting closer to a brother and sister, meaning you contrasted well against Jon and Robb making the apartment always amusing to live in.

He knew you had trouble getting used to it, the way Northerners did things. In the South it was very much, move out, live on your own, form a new life away from family. But it was different here, it would be weird for people not to live together as such. It wasn't uncommon for when a couple marries, to move back to the family home when having their first child, so that they and the baby could be surrounded with a sense of family.

The Starks didn't have much in the way of outside family anymore, not since before Jon and Robb were even born, but it meant it only would be even weirder for them all to live apart. No one was pressuring you to find a place of your own. No one really wanted you too. And just as you were finally beginning to settle again, finding life and routine, did he come around.

Jon had blamed himself for you getting involved with Karl Tanner, you only even met him because he was pledged to Jons own station. But this time, he seemed to appear in your life out of nowhere. They all tolerated him, seeing passed his facade and not knowing how to explain it to you without sounding like they were attacking your new boyfriend. But they didn't like him, and he knew that. He knew especially, that Jon hated him. And he loved it. He loved how much Jon utterly despised him. Robb and Theon were civil, but Jon would barley speak two words to him knowing he would talk endlessly at Jon in return just to frustrate him.

He had spotted your vulnerability and used it to his advantage to slide in, and he had spotted thusly in Jon, how much he was desperately in love with you. The day he put that together, was the day Ramsay Bolton had made it his life's goal to torment Jon every single moment he could manage.

Jons office was right next to his room, which now meant you lived right next to him. He knew the layout, you shared a wall where your beds were. Now though, it felt as if when he was home he lived on the other side of his room. Distracting himself with work or really anything which came to mind in order to tune it out. Or worse, but he hadn't really been ready to even admit that to himself yet.

It wasn't right now, it was the middle of the day but that didn't change the fact that if Jon worked in complete silence, he'd be able to hear you talking. Which would inevitably lead to Jon eavesdropping, and he was trying desperately to not do that. Anymore. He couldn't stand it after months, when just talking turned to something else.

At first he tried listening to something. Shove on his headphones and tune it out, but that did not change he still knew what was happening. Jon still knew that Ramsay was doing it on purpose.

Spending the better part of the afternoon transcribing, Jon had gotten into the habit of recording his meetings with the free folk, so he could write them out and give Lord Commander Mormont a direct report of what happened, but he so rarely had time to sit at a computer and just listen and type when stationed in, that he tended to take it home. Doing it in the quiet was easier anyways, and it now gave him an excuse to hide away when Ramsay was over.

He couldn't stand there watching him dangle you in front of him, if Jon was busy working in his room.

By the time he emerged, Ramsay was nowhere to be found. Wandering into the kitchen, noticing that he had hidden away long enough that dinner had been made and cleaned up. Robb looked up to his brother, noting the eternal frown on his face and tense posture, he nodded to the fridge. “She left you a plate. Knew you were working, she didn't want to bother you.”

Opening it up, indeed whatever had been made you set Jon aside his own. Exhaling through his nose, Jons eyes shut not noting his hand gripping the handle of the door tightly, nor the slightly more rough shove he gave to close it. Asking low, Jon was grateful Robb was used to Jon when he was like this. “When'd they leave?”

Neither had to specify who. Robb knew Jon and Ramsay hated each other, and that Jon only endured it for your sake. It was why he and Theon endured it too, if Jon could set aside his short temper and overwhelming protectiveness for you, then the least they could do was match that. None of the guys wanted to upset you.

Robb returned back to whatever he had been writing out, “Hours ago. Said something came up at home, she's just in the other room with Theon for the night.”

A frown coming across his face further, Jon turned to him. “Wasn't he supposed to take her out somewhere tonight?” Robb nodded and looked no more impressed. It was a science exhibit that all three of them had poked fun at you, by calling it nerdy. But Ramsay had offered to take you, and judging by your jacket and boots still sitting by the main hall, had indeed, backed down on it.

Jon glanced up to spot the time, keeping the grumble to himself that it was way too late for him to take you, it'd be nearly over by the time he got you there. Besides, he knew you would be bashful. Saying not to go out of his way and you were perfectly content staying in, despite Jon knowing how much you were looking forward too it.

Robb read his mind. “What's that now? Four times this month he's cancelled on her plans?” Jon corrected him on five, recollecting the time you went out of your way to reschedule a dinner reservation at a nice place in Torrhens Square. Ramsay had called you quite literally at the same instance Jon was braiding your hair for you as you tried to put a little extra effort into your makeup, saying he couldn't make it.

Your shoulders had deflated under Jons touch, clearing your throat as you hung up and very awkwardly apologized for making him help you for nothing. Jon had tried to insist otherwise but you shut down, trying to laugh it off rather unconvincingly before leaving to your room and not coming out the rest of the night.

He hadn't told anyone, nor you, that he spotted the dress you bought specifically for that date buried the next day at the bottom of what you called your donate pile. Jon had been there when you bought it too. You had kept looking at it on the rack, this long sleeved dress in whites and ivory and lace trailing down the forearms as it draped along the floor like a gown. The restaurant was fancy and it would be perfect, but you were busying yourself with a thin strapped red dress. Short to the point it on you would hardly cover even part of your thighs, and a neck which would show plenty cleavage despite you not even owning anything showing off like that.

Jon had asked if you were sure of it, and you tried to play it off. Saying it was the sort of thing Ramsay suggested would look good for you to try, but as you were asking the assistant if it came in your size Jon had gently murmured he would be right back. A hand trailing along your back and hip as he passed you by.

Finding your size easy, Jon had brought it over to you before the woman even came back. Telling you to try it on in the meantime. Not mentioning he knew you had been looking at it the entire time, only prompting you into the dressing room with it. Thanking the clerk when she came back but you had reconsidered something else. The woman, a bit older had smiled a little bit, nodding to the curtain hiding where you were. “She's lucky to have a man like you at her side, most boyfriends already have gold and silvers out waiting to buy numbers like that.”

Jon never even considered to correct her that he wasn't your boyfriend.

You had asked him gently to come in, not wanting to make a scene of such a dress on you out in the open if you weren't sure. Not that you had known, but however turned on men would've been by you and your plush skin and soft curves in that tiny red dress, was nothing compared to how hard Jon felt looking at you in such an innocent, long and modest white dress. He didn't insist on buying it, fearing it would look as if Jon was just trying to manipulate you into getting what he wanted. He did want to see you in it, but because you had clearly wanted it so much.

And then a month later, the day after Ramsay cancelled the reservation the second time, it just sat at the bottom of a box. Nicely folded and clean to be donated because the return date had expired, and you no longer had a use for such a fancy dress.

It looked rather odd sitting in Jons closet, a long, white dress amongst far, far too much black mens clothing, but he didn't want you to give up on it yet. You never owned such fanciful things, it wasn't the way you were raised, to value luxury. But Jon knew if the right opportunity came up, if Ramsay bothered to put even a modicum of effort into doing something nice for you, then Jon would show you he kept it for you, so you could have one night in the dress you were so excited to buy.

Jon was so utterly lost in his thoughts, he missed half of everything Robb had said to him. Not even bothering to sit at the table with him, Jon just stood with his back and shoulders tense as anything as he ate at the counter. Only tuning into what Robb was saying as he called to him louder. “Snow.” Jon turning abruptly to look, Robb just gave him a flat expression. “You hear a word I said?”

At least Jon was blunt about it. “No.”

Robb only smirked, used to it at that point. “Father wants you there too, said he'll bloody pay your Lord Commander to give you the night if he has too.” Jon only asked in confusion what Robb was talking about and he shook his head. “You getting knocked in the head out there by the Wall? Starting to loose brain cells already.” Jon took the jest with a grain of salt when coming from Robb. “The Harvest Gala, all of Winter Town's coming into Winterfell, and all the older families are going to be there. Father told me to tell you, you don't have a choice. You're coming, and he's dragging Uncle Benjen down too.”

Moving to wash his plate, Jon only asked “Why did he ask you and not call me?”

“Fathers known you your whole life, if he asked directly you'd make an excuse.” Asking if anyone else was going, Robb dissected the root of Jons curiosity. “Roose Boltons coming, which means Ramsay will be going if that's what your asking.”

Jon only left the room muttering under his breath, leaving behind the sound of his brother laughing both at his expense and as a cope for how little Robb too, was looking forward to the later. “Great. A whole night with you highborns and watching Ramsay shoving his tongue down her throat.”

Oh Jon hated how much effort he put into willing his cock not to get hard now of all times. Not an usual sight, Theon sitting on a chair in the main room working his way through a game, and you spread out gently on the couch across the television watching. Only, you were utterly ruining Jon. He had been wondering where one of his Nights Watch shirts had gone and there you lay wearing it like it was normal you would wear Jons clothes. Sometimes the guys things would mix with your laundry, but normally you gave them their things back right away. Yet you laid out in his shirt, clearly oversized on you. He dared not think that it was large enough and the material thick enough, you could completely hide were you not wearing a bra.

Before he could embarrass himself further, Jon closed his eyes to let an exhale out and get himself together.

He said nothing of it as he approached, only gesturing to your legs as you looked up at his approaching figure. Pulling them more towards your chest, Jon very casually and without thought, grabbed them once more to return you to your previous position just now with your thighs resting in his lap. Your voice was quiet enough for Jon to pick up on without completely disrupting Theon. “Did you see the plate I left you?” Nodding, you sighed out in a relief. “I tried to message you while I was still cooking, but you didn't answer so I figured you were busy. I would've come and gotten you otherwise.”

Narrowing his brows, Jon pulled his phone out and it had been some hours since he checked it clearly. Sam and Grenn both with messages in the group chat, a few from Tormund separately, emails no doubt from Cotter Pyke down at Eastwatch by the Sea bothering him for some thing or another, and of course a single message from you, sweetly asking if he was going to miss dinner and if not you would keep enough for him to sit aside.

Glancing back down at you with a low rasp, “I'm sorry, I haven't even looked at it in hours.” Jon could feel the restraint not to call you by the term he used for you alone. He had always called you darling, he had since he was ten. But it felt unfair to keep calling you that when you were with Ramsay, and Jon also knew if he kept too comfortable it would one day slip out in front of the man himself, and Jon would not have gotten to live it down.

Shaking your head, you flipped more on your back, head turned to see the screen but more easily face Jon when you needed too. “It's alright. I only didn't want you to think I didn't make anything for you.”

Jon would've said you didn't need to make him anything in general, but you both have had that discussion too many times to count. It was fruitless task. Robb and Theon had more normal schedules so sharing who cooked when between you three was easy, but Jons schedule was never consistent day to day. Jon typically came home having not eaten most of the day and so you liked to cook for him. If he worked into the night, you always would check in when he was coming home and if it was in time, you liked to be the one to make dinner.

Since on those nights, you always tried to make sure things were done by the time Jon walked into the apartment, and almost always, at least one part of the meal would be something you knew he specifically liked more then the others. He had long since given up trying to tell you that you shouldn't feel obligated to do that, but you would then have that narrowed expression as if confused why he thinks you feel obligated.

It was quiet between you both when he breached the topic, feeling you stiffen up right away. “Next time something comes up, you should tell me. I would've taken you to the exhibit.”

But you only shook your head, “It's fine. It isn't your responsibility to drive me around like that. You have more important things to do.” No words were appropriate which came to mind, as Jon felt deep within the confines of his heart, that you were what was most important to him.

So he only muttered back, “Just tell me next time. I don't want you missing out on things.”

Your brows narrowed, something hesitant and not understanding flashed in your eyes as you glanced between Jon and the screen. It was risky going further you knew, but your brain did not understand his meaning. “I'm not missing out on things, Jon. Ramsay and I can go on another date any other time.”

Both of you were too stubborn to let it drop. “Dates are one thing, it's another to cancel everytime you have something you're looking forward too.” Jon could tell something about what he had said bothered you. Your jaw clenching a bit as you no doubt bit down on your tongue. Shifting to look back to the screen and no longer keeping Jon in sight.

Were you more childish, you'd have something clever to retort with, but you didn't. Because Jon was right. You simply did not like to think about how often that statement was turning out to be right. You could go to an exhibit anytime. Well, not that one. Only was there for the night and then the event was leaving the North, and it was the only one you truly wanted to go see, but it was fine. There were other things you and Ramsay did other then stupid events you wanted to go to like a child.

You however did not like that when trying to come up with other things Ramsay liked to do with you, the only conclusion that kept coming to you, was how often Ramsay turned down doing anything or going anywhere with you, in favour of just having sex. Then leaving. Much like what Karl was like, fuck and then fucked off elsewhere for the night.

No, you certainly did not want to think about that, because then you'd have to acknowledge the warmth behind your face in an unpleasant manner, and the sting in your eyes. Or how just laying here with your legs draped over Jons lap, his hand respectful as it was caressing, his thumb trailed along where one hand rested on your thigh, was the most intimate feeling you'd gotten from a man in well over a year. You felt dumb wanting to cry at such thoughts. You were an adult, adults in relationships have sex, what was your problem. Telling yourself, you should be grateful Ramsay was even kind enough to fuck you in the first place.

After all, that's exactly what Ramsay would tell you to your face, wasn't it?

It wasn't as if it were obnoxiously loud. On the other side of the back stretch of the apartment were Robbs room, then Theons. It left yours and Jons just on their own at the left end. It was never loud enough it reached their rooms or even the living room. No, it was something so purposeful. It was just loud enough, that only Jon could hear, and he knew Ramsay did it on purpose.

Prompting you specifically to be louder, trying to prompt you to talk more, boast about what he was doing to you more, and mocking you about being shy. All the while, Jon would sit at his desk, gripping his pen so tightly it threatened to snap, because Ramsay would always ensure your headboard banged against Jons wall. The absolute obscene things Jons heard Ramsay say to you by this point, and he could confirm to the no one who asked, that Ramsay wasn't just mean during sex, he bordered on sadistic and cruel.

Jon hated that he knew you were naturally quieter in bed, because of how often Ramsay would make you go louder and louder, and the more perverted things he'd force you to say that sounded unnatural coming from your beautiful, sweet, high pitched voice. It was an unspoken thing only between Jon and Ramsay that this went on. Jon gave zero indication to you he could hear anything, and he knew Robb and Theon heard nothing.

It was something Ramsay did just to make him miserable.

At first he had a routine. It would start, then Jon no matter the time of night, would quietly prompt his direwolf Ghost to go for a night hike in the woods just outside the Stark properties his family all lived on. Sometimes if he was awake, Jon too would beckon Robb's direwolf Grey Wind to join. Ramsay never stayed until morning, and so Jon would wait until he saw his car leave and only then would he make his way down the path from the cliff side and try to sleep. Only one time did Ramsay stay, and he was smart enough at least not to cause a scene that would wake everyone else up.

Jon had just rolled in, a thirty two hour stretch at the Wall and he only had gotten home. Making something simple to eat before a very quick shower, and finally planning on going into his room and passing out, Jon stood in the kitchen in time to hear quiet creeping footsteps. Coming out to the hall, Jon came face to face with Ramsay and it was the only time he'd seen Ramsay hesitate.

Jon still dressed in the black leathers uniformed along the Nights Watch with eyes so seething and black they matched what he wore, Ramsay had finally found one instance where he knew Jon would have the upper hand. It was easy for men like him, highborns who never worked for anything in his life, to mock the Nights Watch right up until he stood before Jon in his dark, imposing uniform. Remembering that as much as the North called them peacekeepers, almost every brother of the Nights Watch was somewhat trained for combat, and Jon was the primary teacher for his station after all.

Jon remembered feeling that Ramsay was lucky. The more skilled men at his station would carry weapons. Partially a left over from when the Nights Watch was entangled in active conflicts with the free folk, and now partially serving as a reminder that the Nights Watch was not governed within the same confines of law. Jon used to bring it home with him, the sword strapped to his side called Longclaw, but he stopped bringing it home when you moved in. Not wanting you to feel uncomfortable with it. He was also lucky Jon remembered thinking, that the shorter dagger Jon kept for safety purposes, still sat in the glove box of his car.

Or maybe, Jon was unlucky he didn't have those with him. Maybe Ramsay wouldn't have come back.

Ramsay only rose an eyebrow at him in knowing before leaving. Jon hadn't blinked nor spoken a word as he watched him leave. Going into the bathroom you two shared, all Jon planned was to forget about it. Wash the grime from his body and rinse out the sweat in his long curls from keeping it up so many hours, but he couldn't stop thinking of it. Of how Ramsay had only been here to sneak off, because he had fallen asleep after fucking you.

The thought was made far worse when Jon realized in his absence, you had restocked everything for him so he wouldn't have to rush out to the store when finally coming home. He couldn't stand it, how domestic you treated Jon while knowing Ramsay got the rest of what came with that.

People mistakened Jon for your boyfriend nearly everytime you two went out alone somewhere. It always happened, and eventually you stopped correcting people on it, not thinking the truth worth explaining to people you barley knew. Someone called you Jons wife once, and he nearly blacked out at the thought. But for all you two treated each other as, Jon sat in his room that night with his jaw clenched so hard he wondered if it would break.

Headphones on, Jon was trying to find anything to distract himself. Abandoning his report open, and leaned much more relaxed back in his chair, connecting his headphones to his phone now, he tried not to consider why he did it. He was a man, men didn't need a reason so why did he? Why was Jon trying not to listen to what he could hear of you specifically as he opened up his browser. If it was nothing in particular working him up, why did Jon double check looking to his door to ensure it was locked?

It was only a coincidence that the search terms he looked for, were physical traits that just so happened to describe you. It had nothing to do with anything. And it was not at all, anything but lack of interest that had him close his browser after searching through nearly fifty pages. Because if Jon let himself think about the truth, then he'd have to admit that he had spent the past half an hour searching through a porn site looking for a girl who looked like you. And when he found no one who came close, Jon would have to admit that he exited the site, and very intentionally opened a message thread between he and you.

It didn't take long to find, many times you instead of typing longer messages, would send him voice notes. Knowing if Jon was at his desk at his station, he could just plug an earbud in to listen instead of stopping to read. The conversation he had found, was nothing even close to erotic. You were simply talking about something that funny you found even working from home now, did you still find ways to be annoyed each time your co workers reached out to you.

You were just too natural. Light and airy in tone, high pitched as you were much more quick in tone and not so formal for once. You were the most you in your voice notes in contrast to your typed messages, and yet despite there not being a single thing about the words you were saying being seductive, Jon felt his cock stir, unfairly hard he was and just as he was going to talk himself out of this idea, Ramsay had clearly prompted you to go again.

The second Jon heard your unsure voice on the other side of his wall, his free hand was already undoing his belt.

He loved your voice so much, the way you sounded so sweet when it was only the two of you. How from sure of yourself, how put together and stern you were all melted away into a gentle but kind shyness when with Jon. So few people ever heard you laugh, but Jon had so many voice notes of you laughing or giggling to yourself with whatever you were saying.

Jon could tune out what was on the other side of the wall, as long as he had your voice in his ear in whatever pathetic capacity he was allowed to have. He was also not in a rush, his hand slow as he moved his fist up and down his length, enjoying the building pleasure running through him at the sound of your voice. His hold a bit tighter when you would say his name. One hand kept scrolling, as soon as one series of voice notes as done, he searched for more.

Each new one, Jon stroked his cock a little faster, hand holding a little tighter. Breathing heavy, jaw clenched, Jon contained a grunt in his chest at the way you would say his name. Seven hells did Jon love the way his name sounded on your lips. Tighter more he gripped himself, running his hand up and down faster again.

It was why he kept headphones always charged. He couldn't dare have this interrupted now, and he couldn't listen to it out loud. Jon needed to cum to your voice, but he needed it to be for him and not for Ramsay. The desire ran through him, overwhelming Jons head. It was like an addiction, some men took shade of the evening to get themselves through life out of their minds. But Jons addiction was you, it always had been.

Truth be told, he hadn't even noticed a groan left him. Head falling back, his cock throbbed in his hand at the sound of your giggle. He was a doomed man, he replayed the sound again and again. Then another voice note, then the next and the next. Until he came along one you were not just giggling, but affectionately saying his name as well.

His insides burned, his hand running up and down his cock rough, fast, needing and desperate to cum with each stroke, which each sound of his name from your voice. How long had he been going, he wasn't even sure. All Jon knew was that his mind was consumed with thoughts of you so much his cock begged for you.

Hissing through gritted teeth, “Oh fuck-” Jon prayed to the old gods he had not said your name. He was lucky they answered, but he had come so dangerously close to groaning your name as he came, that he felt himself almost forming the first letters it. Cumming into his hand, Jon kept stroking until he had nothing left. And it seemed, Ramsay didn't either. It was dead silent next door.

Not sparing time, Jon tucked himself back in, tossing his phone and headphones onto his desk, before opening the door to his hall. Ramsay always left your door partially open, and as he peeked in, you were under your covers still bare, turned away from the door looking rather alone. Likely your sleeping self was wondering why your lover was not next to you to comfort you in your sleep. Jon closing it silently, and noting properly Ramsay was nowhere to be found.

His phone told him that it was two am. Jon knew he wouldn't get any sleep before needing to leave for the Wall. Ensuring the apartment was empty and sleeping, Jon didn't go to bed. No, sitting back at his desk, that time Jon spared no time in once more pulling his already throbbing cock out. Jon spared not a second in pretending he wasn't getting off thinking about you, wishing he would ever know what being inside you would be like.

What made things more complicated, was a message informing Jon he needn't come in that day, and thus he sat at the table that morning with Robb and Theon plagued with two thoughts. He had always tried to deny it, but this was the first time Jon had been so brazen with himself that he would stroke his cock thinking explicitly of you. Hoping that it wasn't about to change the way he acted with you, only he didn't get the chance to know right away.

You had been very late getting out of bed. Which was unusual, you were very disciplined about not sleeping so late. Your alarm goes off and your feet were out of bed within seconds. But it had reached the point you would have been up and getting settled into whatever project you had going on for the day, when you only had just emerged the first time.

They only heard it from the sounds of your door opening and closing, but it was Theons quick muttering in an angry confusion of, “What the fuck?” Did it have Jon and Robb look up.

You had been awake the whole time, you were however, hiding. For a good reason. As quick as both Robb and Theon were to stand up and call your name, Jon was already down the hall with a bit of a short tempered shout of your name as you ignored him. Grabbing your coat you didn't even wait to put it on before walking out the door.

Stepping out to the porch, Jon watched you swiftly rush to a car waiting for you. Recognizing inside the driver as Loras Tyrell, and in the backseat where you joined was his sister Margaery. You had shut the door without ever acknowledging him and clearly had told Loras to just go, taking off before Jon had a single answer from you.

You had left the house in a hurry, avoiding the guys all, because when they last saw you, it was with Ramsay who was clearly taking you to bed to fuck. But the next time they saw you as you rushed out the door, the guys had recognized the very distinct look of a bloody cut across your lip and a bruised eye.

It had been a longstanding joke within the Stark household that whomever built the family home, must have purposely Stark proofed everything in advance, protecting the house from the wolves tempers. Ned Stark was currently trying to quell his sons anger, Theon was sitting more firmly at the table trying to convince you to answer your phone. Robb was perched with his palms against the table on the other side seething with anger, while Jon leaned against the wall arms crossing his chest and truly looking nowhere but with his eyes so grey they appeared as black as they were angry and intense.

They had only just stopped slamming things about as Catelyn sent them into the dining room before they broke a plate with all their ruckus. Ned still was trying to be the calm voice of reason for the three of them despite his own feelings on the matter. He did not know the boy, Ramsay, but he knew his father Roose Bolton all too well. And that told him enough.

Emerging from where she had headed upstairs, Sansa returned looking at her phone confirming what their father had asked her to find out. “Margaery says she is with her and Loras, but she doesn't want to talk about what happened.”

Robb shook his head with a clench of his jaw, “We let him stay in our home, and he expects us to stand by as he beats-”

Ned cut him off, “Now we don't know he did that to her.”

Robb interrupting as soon as his father stopped talking, “She goes to bed with him fine, and she comes out the next morning alone with a black eye and cut lip? So, she what? Busted her face up all on her own by accident?”

Running his hand over his mouth, Ned sat down before both elbows propped up on the table to clasp together in thought. “I'm not saying that. I am saying that we should think before you three all go back out there and hunt the boy down.”

Nothing but a low rasp was Jons voice coming out in a restrained anger. “We don't need to hunt him down, we know where the Dreadfort is.” Ned gave a slight tilt of his head towards Jon, but he only clenched his jaw and turned to look back out the front window as if you'd appear in the driveway.

Trying to speculate why you would want to hide it, and Sansa looked up from her phone to say with a passing casualness. “It's obvious.” Raising an eyebrow at Jon with a look almost stern like a lecture, “She didn't want to deal with your reaction, if she's upset and you come lashing out of course she'd want time away.”

Jon pushed off the wall, face twisting into an anger as he raised his voice slightly. “Ramsay beat her and you're blaming me?”

Sansa only shrugged, a look almost smug like she had her point proven. “Maybe if you could control your temper.”

Once more Ned had to speak up interrupting what would inevitably turn into an argument should he let the two of them keep going. “Sansa, try and get Margaery to find out when she plans on coming home without making her feel pressured to come back now.” Robb tried arguing why shouldn't you come home now, and Ned once more shut it down. “She's upset, and so are all of you. It will not help anyone, give her space and she'll come back. In the meantime, don't do anything rash about Ramsay. Only until the gala is over, I'd rather not have the Boltons pull their support before we direct their funding.”

He knew it was a bit of a bias, not being anywhere close to the traditional Stark family business, Jon piped up with a dismissive mutter under his breath. “Of course, wouldn't want to scare them away after they've scared her all the way to Highgarden.”

“Jon.” Looking away in a bit of shame at the sternness in his fathers voice, Jon knew it was far more complicated then that but the agitation of not being allowed to do anything was getting to him. He just wanted to know what the hell happened.

You could tell she was surprised that you hadn't flinched once. The small swab of alcohol running along your lip and only your hands clenched slightly before relaxing again as she cleaned it. Voice soft but something attempting to be convincing against a difficult target, “Are you sure you don't want to tell us what he did?”

Inhaling slightly, you straightened your posture slightly as Margaery took that as her answer. Sighing of her own as her shoulders deflated, she glanced somewhat behind her, looking at Loras to implore him to help. But he only gestured towards you with an outstretched hand. “If she won't tell you what happened, what could I do differently?”

You had long gotten used to the manner in which the two siblings could joke about you as if you weren't in the room. “She's too used to my feminine wiles, maybe she needs a mans touch.”

Though, it slipped out before you had the sense to stop it. “If he closes his eyes and pretends I have grown a few more inches, maybe.” The glare was not meaning what so ever, not towards you. Despite the family you came from, it was still your Uncle Renly which Loras was seeing. He had long stopped wondering if such comments from you were serious. Attempting to change the subject, you tried dismissal as the first tactic with it. “It was only an accident.”

Tilting her head, she looked at you as if you were stupid. “If it were an accident, you wouldn't have messaged me first thing in the morning to come get you. Not caring about something is not the same as avoiding it all together.”

Truly, you did not wish to come here for a lecture. If you wanted that, you'd have stayed in the apartment. Margaerys eyes peeling away from you for a moment, taking little time to tap out a response to something as part of you wondered how she could possibly use the screen with nails that long. Turning back, you glanced at it with a knowing question.

“It's nothing.” Your expression fell flat as Loras's behind her grew into a smirk. Changing her tone to much more casual explaining, “Sansa was asking me if you're alright. Don't worry I told her you don't want to talk about what happened, just that you're staying with us for a little while.”

If anything had you close your eyes in defeat. That meant it had already spread as far as the main Stark house, by nightfall all of them would know. Loras at least had done the smart thing early, leaning his hand to the back seat telling you to give your phone over. Saying, “You can't be tempted to look at it if you don't have it on you.”

Had he not promptly turned it off, you'd no doubt be seeing it light up every few minutes with one of them either messaging you or calling you. By the time Arya finds out, no doubt eighty percent of such notifications would be from her. They could last without you for a few days. The Winterfell Harvest Gala was only three days away, by then hopefully things would have cooled down.

If not, then Margaery had at the least, assured you that your eye would be healed enough by then she could cover most of the bruise with makeup. For now though, you knew over the hours from when it happened, your eye had begun looking far worse as the bruising colours finally set in. You hadn't even known it was hard enough of an impact to leave a bruise until you woke up. Instantly, you had messaged Margaery asking if she and Loras could come get you.

Correctly assuming the second the guys saw it, they would get angry and that was exactly what happened. You thought you had a better chance of not being seen, thinking if it were only Robb and Theon, then maybe you could sneak from the door when they were near their rooms getting ready to leave, but then you realized Jon was still home for whatever reason.

That was when you added an additional message saying to just reply here when they arrived, and you'd come out to them, not wanting more of a scene to be made. The second you realized Theon saw you, you snatched your coat and walked out the front door. Of course Jon was the most angry, he and Ramsay hated each other. But you didn't want to deal with that after what happened.

You had been in their kitchen, assisting their ever immaculate and tart tongued grandmother Olenna with the baking. Whomever the highest of family names attending the Harvest Gala were, it was a tradition that the Starks provided the main feast and the subsequent families would provide a dessert unique to their region.

The whole kitchen smelled of a mixture of baking apples and fresh lemons, it was peaceful. For as quick on the draw as Olenna Tyrell was, she knew when to get down to business and your quietness only meant that you were a diligent worker to make up for the lack of conversation. Which she was fine, with, as long as she could pull a small smile from you now and again she could affirm you hadn't been knocked around that badly.

Oh she took it seriously, but she also did not coddle you. Which was what you wanted. “It won't make you feel better, but it will distract you long enough you may finally rid yourself of that sulking expression.”

You almost went to protest you made such a look, but her eyes shined in an amusement for you to prove her point. Huffing out what may have been a hint of a smile, you returned to the tasks she had delegated you towards. “So why is it your grandchildren get out of doing any of this?”

Olenna never failed to be as blunt as she was quick. “Those two out there are talented at many things, but baking certainly is not one of them. At least you know how to make something look attractive more then just the reflection in the mirror.” All said with a love you knew she held, the Tyrells never ones to withhold a jest at the others expense.

Decorating the very top of the small surface you had to work with, you heard the front door open as you did her voice accompanied by Maragery. You knew she was coming, and if you had any stroke of luck it was that there was one person in that family who wasn't going to hound you about it, it was Sansa.

You could tell her eyes sought you out the moment she walked into the kitchen, trying to keep whatever reaction to your not yet healed eye to herself. Though, it was easy as you without much thought on any other matters, grabbed one of the smaller pieces and turned towards her. “Perfect, I need you to tell me if it's missing something.”

Grabbing the small lemon cake from you, her face twisted from a purposeful look of thought to an easy enjoyment and a hum of satisfaction. Barley managing to her herself swallow the pastry, boasting with genuity. “That's delicious, do you make these often?”

Shaking your head, you turned back to carefully pipe the tops of the full sized ones into each matching design. “Not really. Usually my family brings something seafood in origin, so sweet isn't my normal handling.”

Normally she would have been over here for Margaery, but as she sat down at the island counter in the middle of the kitchen, you suspected she came with not so hidden intentions. “Everyone was worried about you yesterday morning.”

Saving grace, Olenna spoke up from her own work on the mixture going around the apple fillings. “Yes, yes, one muddied up face and the Starks send themselves into a pack formation.” Trying to protest, Sansa was as used to the woman as you were by now. “We needn't beat around the bush, my dear. Her brute of a boyfriend knocks her around, and every wolf within a thousand mile radius gets sent on a hunting spree. If they had reason to be worried, she wouldn't be here suggesting to bake lemon cakes simply because she knew you loved them and were coming over.”

Head raising just the slightest, you'd have rather wished that she didn't rat you out so quickly, but you only tilted your head in no denial when Sansa looked at you brightly. “Don't tell the others, I have a badly tarnished image to maintain.”

Margaery walked into the room, her light voice floating about as did she move with her usual, yet annoying level of grace. “Only your hypothetical image. I'll have that face prettied up for the Gala like none could guess.” Her own hands toying with the bright orange hair loose down Sansas back, did she also lean in to mock whisper. “Aren't I so good at hiding when someone marks up a girls pretty skin?”

A fluster came about Sansa pulling away as you and Margaery both laughed at her reaction. Sharing a look with the later, before raising your eyebrows to the former. “You're lucky I'm good at keeping secrets.”

Looking between all of those in the room she tried to deny it once more, “It isn't like that-”

“So you didn't change your foundation to a new brand, because it was easier at hiding when this one,” Pointing the now empty piping nozzle towards Margaery, “Gets a little bit too carried away in her spare time?” Both girls pretend to be annoyed with one another, but there was little weight behind it.

Margaery was likely the only person who Sansa couldn't stay mad or annoyed at. Almost drifting your mind away, considering the simple fact that you however, were the one who got everyone angry with you. A talent of yours.

You didn't want to think about it, it was a completely different situation then that.

Nothing in common, you felt so much more at your wits end here, the opposite of relaxed as Margaery and Sansa fussed about you. Their touch felt yanking at trying to decide how to this time dress up their new doll, when all you could recall was the last time anyone did something like this for you was before you threw that beautiful dress into the box to donate when Ramsay cancelled your reservation a second time.

You were focused on trying to paint up your eyes, while Jon stood behind you. You had asked if he would help put your hair in a braid, just a simple one until you could decide what you wanted to do, when he took over. Warm against your back, Jon begun carefully and expertly moving the strands around into a braid far more fancy then you could have ever accomplished yourself. Rasping low that braids suited you, whereas here both girls were arguing you should keep it down.

“Make him feel guilty. Show off a little.” You wanted to toss away the dress they handed you, but Margaery grabbed you and walked you to step behind her privacy screen to try it on. “You want Ramsay to realize what he may be missing out on if he keeps acting like this.”

Not being able to see her, you picked up the doubt in Sansas tone as she perched herself on the edge of Margaerys bed. “Are you sure that's the right approach? It may look like she's trying to impress other men.”

The dress itself was fine, but it showed off so much in terms of your back, arms, waist, too much. “That's exactly what we want. He needs to chase her a little, show why he's better then other men, give her a reason to stay other then familiarity.” Suddenly turning with a small shout, “Are you done yet?”

Sighing out, you shook your head without caring they could not see. “Do you have something a little less..revealing?” Sansa laughed, reminding you whose closet you were borrowing from. A deep sigh came out, “Try.”

The next two were also a no. “The Gala is tomorrow, you can't say no to everything.”

Cutting back quickly, “I can if I don't go.”

Sansa spoke before Margaery could once again. “If you don't go, you know my brothers will come and drag you home themselves.” Clearly the two shared a look as she explained quieter, “Shocked they haven't already.”

Oh you were even less sure about this one. The both of them dragging you out to stand before the full mirror in the room, one at each side somewhat behind you the doubt was radiating from your face. “You don't think it's too-” Shutting you down, Margaery only grasped at your hair once more, fiddling with it as she thought through what she wanted to do to match.

Still, her feeling and touch was nowhere near as comforting as Jons.

It was the same every year, but this year it bothered him more. The fact that you would sit up with those of the Baratheon family, occupied around by those who lived around Kings Landing. You had arrived with the Tyrells, but dutifully took your place by your family when Jon wished you would at least look over to him once. Wounds like that do not heal so easily, but it appeared as if there was no bruise around your eye at all.

You should've been allowed to walk in without covering it up, force everyone to see what a man like Ramsay does to his partner. Luckily, Jons morose attitude was easily hidden as well, but by the simple make up of that his Uncle Benjen beside him was equally as unhappy. But they suffered there together, both arriving in a variation of their attire with the Nights Watch, as if to separate themselves from those around.

Some laughs were found between the two of them. Jon knew Ghost was not supposed to be in the banquet hall, but as his name, no one noticed the direwolf laying by Jons feet unseen under the table. Without much thought even, in one moment sat by him a whole roast chicken, the next Jon had flipped a knife up, stabbing it in the meat and depositing it under the table to the very happy Ghost, as Jon continued like he hadn't done anything. Benjen tried not to laugh into the beer in his mug, and he too could see Jon failing to hide his own smirk as he brought his own up to his lips.

Every family who mattered was in attendance in the banquet hall, and outside the muffles of music and laughter where the thousands of other attendees shared the boasts of their own harvest. Thousands of years ago it was a tradition between those only of noble birth, to celebrate the Northern harvest together but the longer the years passed and more of community being formed within the lands less separated by monarchy, it had turned into something much more.

There were always two which switched, the Harvest Gala always took place in the North, hosted in the vast lands of Winterfell always by the Starks. The other was a much more specific celebration taking place in the capitol of Kings Landing.

Jon had never attended it, most Northerners didn't as most never even would go south of Moat Cailin. Close by his fathers seat, Jon could see the ever elusive Howland Reed. An old friend from worse days and the man only ever came out of his home in Greywater Watch for Ned's sake. His two children, Meera and Jojen sat next to each other as they would gesture across the way to Bran.

Even from where Jon was sitting further away, he amusingly could see Sansa desperately trying not to look over to the Tyrells, and then down to her lap only to recall father had forced them all to leave their phones in the main house. It had taken some years for her to settle, her attitude high strung and dismissively childish for many years all coming into a clarity the day she had sat down with their father and her mother. Robb and Jon being the eldest naturally being there too, as she had apologized for her behaviour.

It was much more easy to forgive her when her apology was followed with the admission that she and the Tyrell girl were seeing one another. Now that she had it out in the open, it was easier for the rest of them to move passed the rough years. But it also meant, that he knew for a fact Sansa had spent some time with you in the days previous.

Wanting to ask her about how you were, how your eye looked, if the cut across your bottom lip was indeed healed or if it was simply the red shade painting your mouth hiding it. He knew both his sister and Margaery must have had a hand in choosing how to dress you for the event.

Trying not to consider that the dress you were wearing clearly was borrowed and not your size, as certain places where your curves stood out so beautifully to him looked that much more alluring then it would on the rather small Tyrell. He knew for a fact you must have been embarrassed beyond anything walking in the main doors wearing something showing that much. It draped along your shoulders like a fine silk and down your back scooping low enough a few less inches of fabric and your hips would have been showing next. You kept a darker shall wrapped around you though, still not at all comfortable with how much the dress emphasized your breasts.

The amount of make up was their choice too, he knew that. The bold shade of red staining your lips as if meant to tempt men to ruin, it was not a choice you'd do on your own. It was as if you had been dressed to catch one's eye and as Jons flew across the hall a pair of pale blue ones had certainly been trapped in that net.

Ramsay had no right to look at you that way after what he did, Jon thought. He never gave you respect as it was, and this was something else. But Jons own watchful eye also caught what no one else was seeing as well. How every now and again, Ramsay would turn to the small dark haired girl next to him and the two would blatantly flirt and touch.

Were it a glass Jon was holding and not a much more sturdy made mug, it would've shattered from the force Jons hand was tightening around the grip. How often did Ramsay leave you after fucking you, to sneak off to whomever this girls bed was? How long had he been using you as a public shield to then sleep around behind your back?

Once more his eyes caught yours not looking at anyone. Sometimes sharing half baked smiles or a fake huff of laughter with your cousin Myrcella, but little else. You hardly touched your food, and the only other person in your families sitting who was out beating you in the amount of wine you were drinking, was your uncle Robert.

You had showed up trying to look as if everything was fine, but Jon knew the amount you were drinking was telling him you were anything but. Whatever dessert was sat in front of you as the night progressed too was passed by. Already forming a plan in his head, the moment the meal would end, Jon needed to make his way over to you. He needed to apologize before you were too drunk to be able to fairly understand it.

He was so angry when he had seen what Ramsay did, but he knew it was wrong to let that anger out around you. You deserved better then that, but he was beginning to sense you wouldn't be anywhere near sober enough to understand any apology at this rate. And the more you drank, the less he noticed Ramsay did.

Jon had too, but he stopped because he hadn't wanted to let any intoxicated emotions get the better of him about you. He suspected however, Ramsay had stopped, in order to gain back any sobriety he lost, so that he held all the power when he'd inevitably approach you. He would take advantage of your drunk state to weasel his way back into having you forgive him. Men like Ramsay, like Karl Tanner, they took advantage of girls like you.

Quiet and not confrontational, insecure and quiet so manipulating you into staying with them, and relying on them was easier. It was why Jon said he'd make sure you owned your own things once leaving Tanners house. He wanted to help you, but he didn't want you to rely on him. That was what Tanner did, moved you away from everyone who cared and made you rely on him for everything.

How long, Jon thought, would it take for Ramsay to convince you to leave the apartment and move in with him? Keep you away from the rest of them, and no doubt whisper things in your uncertain ear about Jon to drive a wedge between you. Tanner tried doing it to you about Jon as well, but it wasn't so personal. He spoke lies as such about anyone who wasn't himself. Not even Rast nor Locke, cravens that they were, were immune to that.

But Ramsay knew. Jon knew that Ramsay was fully aware of what Jon felt for you. It was why he loved dangling you in front of him, why he fucked you just loud enough to make Jon lose his mind at what he wasn't the one getting. Cancelled plans you were looking forward too, only ever did just enough with you to convince you to let him fuck you, and Ramsay had the audacity to touch and flirt with other women in the same bloody room as you, knowing you were too nervous to look at him.

Jon would rather you never date, then watch you continue to date men who saw your worth as nothing but something to shove their cocks in. You were so much more then that, but they had convinced you otherwise. Why else would you stay with a man who made you that upset so often normally, because you had figured it was all you deserved.

He didn't want to sit there and pretend he was a selfless man, Jon had the shame of knowing three times in one night he had gotten off to you before all this happened. You were his best friend and in more ways then romantic did he love you, but Jon still knew he couldn't lie to himself about the way he looked and thought about you. All you'd see is your best friend trying to take advantage of your weaknesses to get you into his bed.

The crowd was immense as you all stood. People everywhere you turned and your quiet self had gotten lost and forgotten in the sea of social waves passing you by. You hated this dress, you hated how much makeup was painted on your face, you hated having to play nice when all you wanted to do was find a bed to cry in for how much you let your life turn into this.

The air was warm, too warm as so many bodies took up the space in the room and spoke with their warm breath increasing. How did no one else notice the heat? How hard it was becoming to breath in such a heavy fog. Heart racing more as you felt your lungs tighten, you needed to walk away. Find a corridor mostly empty and walk until there was an alcove isolated to collapse against.

Nothing of what you drank told you if you were sober, you couldn't sense it underneath the racing in your head which flooded your nerves. You hadn't wanted to come, you hadn't wished to face how you were ruining your second chance at having a partner all for the same repeating reason. Whatever rationale you could lie to yourself with this time, did not exist when it was Karl Tanner in the role of Ramsay.

You had said it, and couldn't take it back. Karl didn't say what had happened, he didn't care about any of you involved once Jon drove you away, but Ramsay would. If you couldn't fix things with Ramsay he would use it against you, and who knows how many people would abandon you after that comes out?

You were pathetic, you always were. He's never wanted you, he still doesn't and yet you were broaching two separate relationships you've ruined over someone who does not want you. As your head leaned against whatever surface you found yourself at, you felt the world spin even as you stood still against a stone support.

“Now tell me, love, who did you dress like such a whore for?” Opening your eyes, the world still spun while still as a statue as you looked at Ramsay. Standing before you with a narrowed expression you had seen in the seconds between what happened that night, and how hard he had slapped you with the rough back of his hand. “Speak up now. Did you let the Tyrells slut you up to try and beg for me back, or did you just want to tempt any man in here that you were walking around with a sign hanging against you, that you'd spread your legs for the first one who walked up to you with a cock?”

Shaking your head, your words slurred as they were forced you beyond the heart pounding stammer overtaking with your nerves. “You- you always wanted me to dress like this.. I was, I'm only trying to listen to what you told me..”

The chuckle was fake, but you were far too drunk to also pick up the more sinister echo which matched behind his eyes as he invaded your space. Grasping rough at your jaw he didn't let you flinch away too much from his hissing. “Such a poor memory, do you need me to repeat what I actually told you? That if I'm going to fuck you, you may as well start dressing like someone who my cock would actually get hard for.”

You were so stupid. He was always going to be mad at you. You couldn't imagine how angry he'd have been were he to have actually taken you to that restaurant in Torrhens Square. He'd have asked where you got that long, white dress, why it covered so much of your skin, and why you disobeyed him when he had told you to go to that specific store to buy the short, red one in the first place.

Trying to stammer out, “I- I'm sorry..” He just tilted your jaw up to force your eyes up at his darker ones now trailing down your frame. You read the words, what he wanted. He had taught you by now, but you shook your head as something unsettled bubbled in your chest. “Ramsay, there's other people-”

“Did I ask about other people?” Saying no, you tried to insist on finding an empty room but he leaned in more. “Did I say I was going to do this in private? You're lucky I don't leave you naked and covered in me, here so everyone can see what a real whore does in the dark.”

As drunk as you felt, you were still in your head enough to feel utterly humiliated. If you were caught now, you wouldn't ever be able to look the Starks in the eye. You'd just move out on the spot and return to Dragonstone, hide away from the world on your grim, dark girlhood home. Too slowly you tried to pull one of the silky sleeves down your shoulder but he took over, the fabric ripping as you tried to argue, “Ramsay, please this is Margaerys-”

Shoving your legs apart, he only raised an eyebrow. “So I know who to blame for turning my girlfriend into a walking cunt begging to be filled.”

No argument came against that one, you had none. Your mind was nowhere near sober enough to wonder if he was wrong. You just accepted it. You almost ruined this relationship because you couldn't keep your mouth shut in the worst moment, so it was your duty to let Ramsay punish you in whatever ways you always dreaded. The mood he was in, you doubted he would even care wasting a single second getting you even slightly wet.

When he used sex as a punishment, you weren't meant to enjoy it. That was how it worked.

It took you longer then normal to realize why he didn't do anything. Suddenly moving away from you, your slow mind hardly caught up to the fact that there were now three large figures slamming Ramsay against the wall. Trying to protest, “Wait- stop, he didn't do anything.”

It wasn't until one of them spoke did the blur in you vision focus enough to see a teeth grittingly angry Robb was on Ramsays left, now turning back towards you, as Theon took space up on Ramsays other side. Not recognizing until Robb was already talking, that Jon was in Ramsays face, keeping him pinned to the wall with only one hand. “Didn't do anything?” Robb calling your name with a confused anger, “Did you not hear a word he was saying to you?”

Theon piped up with anger clear of his own, “Or how he busted your face?”

Swallowing, you felt lightheaded and confused more then any of them. “I-” A slightly stumble trying to stand up straighter as if they hadn't already seen how drunk you were. “That was an accident, he didn't do anything.”

Ramsay was quick on the draw making intentional mocking eye contact with Jon, “See, bastard? I didn't do a thing. Our girl here is just a tad too slutty for her own good, needs a stern hand to put her in her place, doesn't she?”

The guys all started to speak, but you felt your eyes sting with tears. Shaking your head at him not to say it, but Jon captured his attention. Voice so low and rough it was but a husk teetering with something burning in rage. “Don't talk about her like you care about her.”

He smirked, as you felt your stomach twist. “Oh I care deeply, bastard. It's why I was just so angry, you see. I take her to bed, show her my love and in return all she does is-”

“Ramsay, please.”

You tried pleading with him not to, but it was too late, as soon as he started to speak it was too late to keep it contained. “Was that so hard? You remember my name here, but not when I'm inside you?” He had turned to make eye contact with Jon, nothing but a smugness in letting it fall free. “Imagine how much it ruined the mood, when I'm fucking her nice and rough and suddenly, more desperate then I've ever heard her ask for it, does she beg your name before she cums.”

But whoever was the first out of the three of them to look back to you in surprise, you didn't know. You had taken off so suddenly and so fast that none of them knew where you went. As it turned out, utter humiliation sobered a girl up, right quick.

You weren't sure the last time you had been here, likely too many years to be worth counting back to, but it was just as beautiful as you remembered. The white bark standing out against red leaves with a face carved into it as if watching over the North it stood within. Back against it as you used your shall to sit on, to try and not muddy up Margaerys dress, despite looking too many times at the no doubt expensive silk now ripped along your shoulder.

Long enough it kept your legs from the cold as you pulled your knees to your chest, forearms resting over them as you had long since stopped caring about the stain of tears on your cheeks. You were such an idiot. You had let your feelings for Jon ruin two relationships, and now he and likely everyone else knew about it.

What was more pathetic of a revelation then your best friend calling your name when having sex with their boyfriend, you weren't sure.

Enough time had passed to which your drunken fog begun to lift and a stressing headache wormed its way in to keep you sitting in the cold air hoping you could find the courage to get up. You had your phone, that was it. Maybe it would be enough, perhaps if you could pull yourself together long enough you'd be able to convince your father to let you stay on Dragonstone until you figured out what to do next with your life.

As long as you could find someone who could drive you to White Harbour, your father could send someone to come bring you the rest of the way. What other choice did you leave yourself?

Robb and Theon would think you were pathetic, Jon wouldn't want you anywhere near him after this, and thus your presence in the Starks home no longer was welcome. You hadn't called Jon wishing he'd come get you that day with Karl because of anything like that, you had done it on instinct. He was your best friend, he was the only one you wanted to come get you but now it must feel as if you were a manipulative snake.

By the time you heard footsteps, you almost flinched to get up and apologize for being here, but it was in fact the rumble of Ned Stark coming to ease you from fleeing. “It's alright, no ones asking you to leave.” Muttering quietly why he assumed that was what you were planning, he without any care sat down next to you on the rock keeping elevated enough that a hand wrapped around your back and sat soothingly on your upper arm. “So you're telling me you weren't sitting here worried you were going to have to leave here and go back home?”

Looking away somewhat ashamed, your arms crossed more over the top of your knee. An uninspiring mutter, “I presume you know what happened.” Only a glance slightly to the side showed you his nod, and your head dropped into your arms. “Suppose everyone in the North knows by now.”

However, the man only chuckled. “Far from. I heard what happened, but put an end to any scene they were about to make before most noticed anything happened. No need to make a spectacle out of you after everything you've been through.”

Ned did not hear the first try, so you lifted your head and repeated your words as new tears gently fell once more. “I'm sorry, truly I am. I wasn't trying to ruin anything or manipulate anyone.” Asking where you had gotten that idea, you paused. Not yet clear enough from all the wine could you come up with but a shrug of a shoulder. “None of it was on purpose. It just happened. First with Karl, now with Ramsay. Two relationships I ruined by saying something I didn't even realize I had said until it was all over anyways.”

You were glad it was Ned Stark listening to this, not sure your own father would dare care to listen to anything even remotely close to a sexual topic like this, but he listened with the care he gave all his children, but to you. “None of us can control how we feel, sweet girl.”

The shrug and nod you gave didn't really indicate much, but he understood in your state that was all you could offer. The quiet of the night, this place far enough from the crowd not even the muffled nightlife of the gala could be heard. Only in that quiet did you say it, “You can tell him I'll move out.” Humming in question, you clarified. “Jon, I'm sure hes mad at me. Likely doesn't want to speak to me after that, you can tell him I'll move out. He bought a lot of my stuff, I won't take it with me he can sell it or whatever he wants. It was his money.”

Ned didn't say anything for a moment, and you had almost took it as a defeated acceptance that he would indeed deliver your last message to your best friend. But he didn't stay quiet, he only spoke in a quiet tone, pulling you closer to his side running his hand up and down your cold arm. “Tell me, if my son was angry with you, why when I last saw him, was he outside the hall worried sick that you had taken off drunk as you were.”

You struggled to envision it, but maybe it was the aforementioned drunkenness impeding your intelligence more then usual. “Because he's just a good person. Simple. Always has been, even now when I don't deserve it.”

It seemed whatever he had gleaned from such a comment had cemented an idea in his head. “Here's what we're going to do. We're going to get up, bring you back to the apartment. The boys are all busy right now hosting in my absence so you'll have it to yourself. We'll get you cleaned up and you won't worry about what comes next until you've slept the rest of this off.”

Truthfully, you were too tired should any argument have ever even existed within you.

Coming back down to the winding Gala late into the night, Jon noticed his father gesturing for him to come over to speak alone. Your name coming instantly out of his mouth, his father swiftly placated such worry. “She's alright. I brought her back up to the apartment to sleep tonight off.” Nodding, Jon stood tense as anything unsure as to how to breach the subject or if he should when his father did it first for him. “Whatever you're going to say to her Jon, go easy. She's upset and she's convinced herself you're mad enough at her she should move out.”

Face twisting in a mix of anger he could not fix from the night and a worry that everyone around you had let you get so intoxicated you spun a story such as that about him in your fears. “Did you tell her about-”

“I think she would take it better coming from you.” The two men stood for another quiet moment when he stepped towards him. A hand resting on his shoulder with a concern Jon knew was for both parties, himself and you. “And Jon, don't ambush her right away.”

Both nodded, his father leaving Jon to think. He knew he was right, he couldn't lay all his cards out on the table yet. Between Karl and Ramsay, they had done a number on your self worth. You'd jump in an instant to what Jon wished to say, if you thought it was a way to make it better. He needed it, only if you still wanted it once you felt safe in your own home again.

Strange, you had no dream and yet you were lulled into the world of the wake with something gentle along your hair. Not realizing until your eyes fluttered open that the morning sun was shining through your window. Jon was sat on your bed facing you, a hand running soothingly along your now loose hair.

Were your brain not about to explode from pain, you might have jumped up to apologize right away. But in your state, Jon continued to run his hands through the strands of your hair as he rasped quietly and comfortingly. “You're lucky to be alive. If I let Ghost come in here last night like he wanted too, he'd have cuddled himself into your side so much you'd have suffocated.”

The laugh was weak as you sat up, Jon not moving his hand from you as he tucked some of your hair behind your ear to more then cup your cheek and jaw. Your eyes heavy as you found a more shredded voice. “I could imagine worst ways to go.”

His grey eyes were as wide, bright and yet soft as ever. As if the night before was not an utter catastrophe you had brought upon your friendship, but the ship was steady on the water, you dared not yet rock the boat, listening to him with a warmth at his low rasp deep this early in your time awake. “You scared me last night, darling. Running off like that.”

Neither of you noticed how easily he slipped back into calling you that, or how you hadn't taken notice in any negative manner whatsoever. Sitting more against the headboard behind you, you were glad Ned Stark had insisted you wear something actually comfortable to bed instead of the ripped reminder of a terrible night. Your insides were warm as much as your front so close to Jon was warm from the proximity alone. “I'm the sorry one. About everything. Getting drunk, causing a scene..and..for-”

Mercy was what Jon showed you, but for why you couldn't put together. “You didn't do anything wrong. Ramsay's been barred from attending any Northern run event, and he's not allowed within two hundred miles of you.” Your brows narrowed in confusion, Jon giving you a gentle laugh in return, still toying innocently with your hair. “My father works fast when he's mad. I didn't think anyone could've been more mad at Ramsay last night then me, but he came back after bringing you home and went right to your Uncle to have a restraining order filed.” Asking why, Jon almost shook his head in a manner that was only amused by you. “You're like a daughter to my father, if he wouldn't let someone treat Arya or Sansa like that, he wasn't going to stand by and let Ramsay do it to you.”

Nodding, it felt strange that you weren't upset by it. Perhaps it was too early to feel it, but much was hard to care about when Jon was this warm and looking at you with such wide grey eyes pouring into your heart and soul as if he belonged there. “Jon..I really am sorry..”

But he only laughed a little, sliding his hand behind your head to pull you forward, Jon leaned enough to press his lips to your forehead. Murmuring against it, “Don't take off like that again, and you have no reason to be. Now come on,” Prompting you to slowly begin standing up, Jon rested a supporting hand at your lower back, pressing your unsteady self to his side enough he could rasp in your ear. “I'll make you something you can actually stomach.”

You didn't understand why Jon was making it so easy. For days now, things had been much like it had been before Ramsay ever entered the picture. Your days were normal, settled back into working without distractions and it all seemed as if the apartment was smoothly running.

Part of you wondered why it felt though, as if they were all waiting for something. You could only hope that it was not for you to fall off once more, you knew thus far your record had not been on your side but you hoped they had more faith then next to none. You wanted to start over this time, you were given that proper chance and you didn't want to waste it no matter what people were or were not presuming about you.

It seemed the restraining order was applied to those speaking of him as well. Margaery had not brought up anything, and when you had gone over to her house to profusely apologize over the dress she only wrapped an arm around your waist to drag you in, dismissing, “I have others.”

Trying not to fear this all had made you look as weak as you felt, but for how close you came to ruining things, Jon was the one easing that fear away. He was the only one who you didn't feel as if were watching and waiting for something you didn't understand, he treated you as the same as you two had been in your best of times. Before Ramsay Bolton, before Karl Tanner.

Things were normal enough between you that you, he and Ghost all went on a longer hike through the wolfswood for the first time in well over a year together. The warmer weather this time around was not quite what many would call warm in the south, considering heavier long sleeves were still the most necessary outerwear at the minimum, but it was not yet cold enough that spending so many hours outside wasn't preferable to ones health.

Small rolling hills led to cliff sides where the main river poured out in small divets of pooled lakes like a small waterfall, hardly anything for one who grew up on an island, but for here it was the most amount of a body of water you could get too within a days walk. Perhaps before you'd have worried about the quiet, but no longer did it feel stifling or on purpose.

Jon used to be the one person you could be your more naturally quiet self around and have it not be uncomfortable, he was the same way. The less talkative of the group of you, but together that silence was never filled only because the quiet as awkward. Jon would instinctively grab your hand to help hoist you up a steeper climb and push you forward with a hand on your lower back without sharing a single word and neither of you thought twice again.

Or how when you three had returned, Jon once again gently guided you to your shared bathroom first, quiet in your ear as it was late enough Robb and Theon were asleep. “You shower first, I'll get something started.” And without any more question, when you emerged, you took over what he had been doing and by the time his shower was done you both had a very late meal but in the comfortable presence of only you two.

For a while it went on as such, but you couldn't help those two same thoughts. Was everyone really just waiting for you to combust once more, and more importantly to you, why Jon hadn't even come close to bringing up what happened.

It went completely unspoken, but you didn't know why. Your friendship felt as strong as ever, but for what reason? You had completely violated his trust and it was as if he would rather forget, but it didn't work that way. He would've known you weren't to forget so easily, why was he? Were you lingering once more on the edges of feelings which Jon wished to pretend he never learned about? If so, why was he even more gentle and affectionate then before?

None of it made sense in your head, but you truly did not want to ruin things, not now. Not after being given another chance to keep him in your life. So you stayed quiet, didn't speak a word of it for as long as you could withhold the anxiety and nerves festering from your brain into entering your heart.

It was one evening, you both looked so much like you did as teenagers, sitting back against his bed, both too lazy to bother moving things around his room for a better set up, so your laptop was dragged in his room instead to watch something on there. Later into the night, the apartment was settled and only you two remained awake, but the mixture was dangerous for your subconscious.

His room always cozy and warm, and so was Jon naturally heated in his blood to never feel cold around and the dark from only a single lamp on his desk other then the screen, it all lulled you into relaxing a little too instinctively. You without realizing, allowed your head to rest on his shoulder, but Jon without asking you to move, stiffening up uncomfortably, or even hesitating, adjusted his position in order to wrap his arm behind you. Resting at your waist and tugging you firmly into his side as that same hand now ran lightly up and down your waist to hip and back.

Your- his shirt on you, rising slightly each time which his hand kept brushing your bare skin sending silent shivers along the surface. More and more did the film fade away, until you found a sleep more warm and soothing then you had in weeks.

Jon was caught between the concepts. Slowly shifting things as to not disturb you too much, Jon moved everything but the two of you off his bed, before turning to watch you carefully. The last time you fell asleep in his bed, it was in far more innocent times then what ran unspoken between you both now. He didn't want you to feel pressured, but Jon knew you were feeling the air between you different, and he did not wish to return to when it felt otherwise.

It was heavy and electric, but neither of you were such forward seducers to act upon it so brazenly. But, Jon still knew such feelings were there. So, instead of gently carrying you to your room and tucking you into your bed, Jon made a risky choice. Slowly helping you lay down on your side, Jon ran a hand over the hair at the side of your head, ensuring you hadn't stirred awake. Across the room, Jon turned his light off, and opening his curtains a slight bit to let some of the moonlight guide his vision.

On one end by the foot of the bed, the slumbering white ball of fur called Ghost slept soundly as you did, as if failing his guard duty to keep you safe laying only feet from him. But as Jon carefully climbed back onto his bed, he laid on his side to face you.

He watched at first, only watched. The peace in your face there was unlike the past years as tormenting figures appeared in and out of your life. Never did Jon presume his place, he was your best friend and he refused to act as if that made him obligated to your feelings. But it wasn't the same now, you had been keeping your own locked up just as, if not more tightly away from the world. Only coming out twice.

Jon knew now that was what Tanner was trying to tell him that day. That started the fight the morning he came to get you. You had spoken Jons name in the heat of the encounter, and then did it once more months later with Ramsay. He didn't want you to think you should stay here with him, but Jon also refused to allow you to push this all away in favour of lessening your value, to running to the next horrid man.

For now, as Jons hand ran up and down your arm, did you shift closer, and he spared no time in pulling your front into his chest. Meekly, your slumbering hands reached up, grabbing the edges of his shirt as if begging him to keep you there. And as he found a home to sleep in your hair and you in his torso, only quiet was found.

If you had one thing you needed to accomplish that day, it was to ask. You had to, even if you didn't like the answer, it was no longer appropriate to hide such wonders when he knew what you had done. But, part of you wished he wouldn't make it so difficult to be blunt about it. You had clearly fallen asleep watching the movie, and woken up in his warm, gentle embrace tucked into his chest. It felt right, and it also meant it felt unfair.

Jon should only show you such affection if he understood your mind had not moved on yet, if he wished to pull away then that was how it would have to be, but hiding your worry about it was not conducive to your dynamic anymore. But gods he made it so hard to get to it. Not even realizing you weren't alone in the waking world, Jon rasped in your ear so thick from the early morning it was just a heavy husk of a Northern accent slurring together. “Too early to think this much, darling.”

You breathed out a small smile, almost swearing you could feel him smile in your hair in return. Hardly loud enough to be heard by any not directly as close as Jon, you whispered back not yet yelling go of your fingertips toying with his shirt. “Not for how long I've been awake.” Oh that deep chuckle so close to your ear was deathly.

One of his hands around your hip and waist shifted up to run smoothing over your hair, slightly raking through the strands to pull a relaxing in your muscles against him. “Alright, why don't you wake me up by telling me what's going on inside here.” This thumb leaving it's touch to lightly tap at your head as if to indicate what he meant.

You had told yourself, ask it today. It came out as light, strained and breathless as if felt. “Are you never going to bring up what I did?” Instead of the hesitation you feared and worried, instead came the same soothing nature as he pulled you a bit closer.

Taking his own time to answer without making you worry of the passing moments to do so. “You mean when you called my name out in bed with Ramsay, or when you did the same thing with Tanner?” Your frozen nature must have given your shock away. “Wasn't difficult to put together once I knew the truth.”

Your voice muffled by his torso, but you were almost emotional at how grateful you felt he hadn't yet made you leave his warm comfort. “Aren't you mad?” Asking for what, you did not sound any more confident. “I violated your trust. Twice. Then hid it from you and lied about it.”

Once more his chuckle was utterly unfair, and his voice rasped so deep as his hands almost held you a bit tighter if you weren't imagining things. “Would you like to know what I was doing when you called my name out with Ramsay?” Not a clue how blind sighted you were about to feel, you shook your head before noticing for certain that time he held you tighter. “I was scrolling through all those voice notes you send to me, while my other hand was around my cock.”

Blood within you flooded with something warm like a burn, and only as you let a shaking breath out did Jon begun to somewhat ran his hand back to the side of your head, thumb much more firmly tilting you to suddenly meet his eyes, dark normally in colour but now the grey appeared closer to sinking into a black. “Why?”

Far too handsome for his own good when he laughed deeply, knowing your breath hitched as he leaned forward. Only to nudge your nose with his, letting his trace down yours. It seemed if your question was to be honest, he'd let his be as well. “Because I wanted to have you in my bed, instead of hearing you in yours with another man.”

Lips parting slightly, your eyes were wide trying to contain how both confusing yet unrealistic that sounded so early. And yet there was not a shred of lies or doubt within his gaze, only something far too dark yet affectionate that you wished to melt into. “But..you- why not say anything before I even met Ramsay..”

Thumb running firmly over your cheek, Jon had yet to pull away from you the rest of the way. Your mind trying to tell you otherwise, that you were imagining any other feeling. Jon though, was not you, and did not care about hiding it seemed now that the topic had been broached. “You finally had the courage to leave Tanner, I wasn't going to ambush you about my feelings when you needed someone to just be there for you. No matter how much I wanted you, still want you.”

Shifting you both every so sightly, Jon moved so you lay more on your back, and he partially still on his side, but somewhat hovered over you. Now looking at you with those bright eyes, curls all still pulled back from the night before. The hand on you cheek turned much more selfish in not pulling away from where it roamed. Tucking some of your hair behind your ear, before once more nudging your nose with his almost as it to tempt you with how close his lips would be at such a motion.

It felt like such an utterly girlish and child like question to ask, “Would all you want it to be is just..sex?”

Jons chuckle once more was deep, laced with something dark that should have set your nerves off and yet on him it only lit the fire within your bloodstream to flow. Muttering close enough to your lips you felt his breath dance across your skin as he cupped your cheek and jaw more to his control. “I want everything, all of it, as long as it's with you. I always have.”

Looking back up to his eyes, Jon looked you over carefully for a moment but in the heavy silence, slowly took over in seeking a path. Glancing between you and your lips, Jon was so close to closing that gap only as long as it took for your hands to so very willingly reach up to grasp at his shoulders and part of the back of his neck. The moment your own eyes slipped closed, you barley needed to move a single breath forward, for Jon to close the gap between his lips and yours.

Jons lips were softer then you could have dreamed of, guiding you in an instant as if kissing you was what he had been waiting for all his life, and not for a second did he waste time. Pushing up to hover over you properly, his hand at your face slid to cup the back of your neck, keeping you pressed to his lips with no escape. Not urgent, nor greedy, and without the incessant ask for you to get to it. Jon kissed you as if he enjoyed kissing you.

Which in truth, was foreign. Men didn't spend time kissing you unless they wanted to fuck, they didn't enjoy kissing, you had always thought that was the case with your limited experience. But Jon deepened his kiss as if the idea of leaving you yet was devastating, as if he sought salvation and he found it through kissing you rougher and needier. Small sounds left your chest, hands tight on Jons shoulders he begun to gently bite at your bottom lip.

Small as if only a nibble, it grew more and more of a bite until he tore a gasp from you, which was his sly plan. Using the opportunity to glide his tongue into your mouth, he brushed up against your tongue as if guiding you to explore him back all the same. Hardly did you, but hovering above you on the bed Jon was in control regardless. Stealing your very breath and drawing up small whines of need before he would pull back to only a deep kiss.

But then he'd bite and once more the entire process repeated but his need grew each and every routine. Harsher did he kiss you as your legs slid, bent by the knees you let them sit at Jons side when he tore from your lips. The saliva between you snapping as he spared no time in running his kiss along your ear and down to your neck. Lips and tongue setting the stage as he suddenly would bite down.

A gasp clawed from within, back arching up into his touch as Jon suddenly with a growl in his own chest begun to then suck at where his teeth indented into your sensitive skin, forcing the colours to turn to a tingling bruise of his making, swiftly marking down and down your neck until he reached the collar of his shirt. Hoisting himself back up, capturing your lips once more deep and breath taking did he pull back.

Both hands pressed beside your head as he looked down at you with a darker, more serious gaze. “Tell me if I'm taking this too far.” But you only shook your head, trying to desperately seek his kiss but Jon gently pushed you back down flat against his bed. That time his brows furrowing as if seeking something in your own need. “I mean it, we don't have to do this, any of this. Whatever you want we can take our time.”

It was a heart pounding need stealing your lungs away, and only a scrap of voice drenched in desire was left. Without even the means of seduction, it came off as better then any temptress could possible use her wiles towards Jon with. “We've already imagined it separately, but now I want to know what being with my best friend really feels like.”

Jons eyes fluttered closed, a low sound grunting inside to maintain but he surged back to cup the back of your head to leave a harsh, biting kiss to your needing lips before tearing away and back down the already sensitive trail he left on your neck. Kneeling up a bit for the leverage, Jon grasped the ends of his shirt on your body, looking up dark and face twisted so seriously to your expression. The single second it took for you to nervously nod yes, Jon had yanked it up off of you and tossed it far as if offended it covered you up for so long.

Staring at your heaving chest, Jon almost tore up in a glare had you not known any better. “You were with me all night and weren't wearing anything under this?” Your head shook no as the air shivered along your skin. Eyes closing again to sigh much more deeply Jon let a a hand reach up. Rough and calloused was striking against the soft skin of your chest, but it was as if his hands were made to fit with your breasts perfectly. Kissing back to your neck, now just as greedy at your collarbones, Jon spared no shame in only grasping at your other breast for the time it took for his lips to reach it. One hand pinching the small, pink bud of your breast to stiffen it up for his hand to twist at, chest arching up more for him while his teeth sunk into your other breast. Biting the same as his hand twisted the other and your hips writhed desperately at the feeling.

Trying to reach for his own shirt, Jon used his free hand to snatch yours, slamming it down beside your head and intertwining his fingers with yours, without ever easing up the treatment sparking such a burning coil within. Gasping his name, Jon bit and sucked at your breast as his hand groped a tightness that in another mans touch would've hurt. But Jon kept you on the precipice of pleasure and just enough pain to keep you pliable for him.

Pulling from you, Jons eyes scoured his work and the trail of saliva left on your breasts no doubt you could feel in the cooler morning air. His hands were slow as he reached your the top of your pants, but the second you didn't blink or flinch but slightly raised your hips Jon stared at every inch of skin pulling them from you revealed to him.

Tossing them away, Jon ran his hands up your calves as they once more parted for either side of his body, Jon held at your thighs. Spread for him and nothing hiding the rest, you had been next to him for hours this bare under the basest of clothes and yet he was only finding out now.

But he allowed you to lean up, drag his own shirt up and over his head. Grasping the back of your neck as you leaned up towards him, Jon licked back into your mouth much more freely groaning as he hoisted one thigh up at the side of his hip. Only the lower and lower down your body Jons lips and kiss explored the more your heart begun to pound irregularly, something unsure in your head making you sit up away from him when you realized. “What are you doing?”

Jons eyes were wide, almost as if stunned at your sudden confusion. “Wh- I'd like to taste you, darling-” Interrupting with a short and high pitched ask of why, Jon almost breathed a laugh. Leaning up to better meet your now on edge posture sitting up on your elbows. “Because I've always dreamed of it, because I really want you to feel good.”

You had no way of knowing how much you were ruining him, how hard you were making his cock still hidden under the jeans he fell asleep in. “No, I mean why would you ever want to do that?”

There seemed to be a disconnect. The ease in which Jon was so sure of the ways he wished to explore you, and you not at all grasping why Jon would want to do things Karl and Ramsay told you men absolutely hated. Tilting his head, he ran his fingertips along your cheek some. Sighing through his nose trying to collect his thoughts, low and rasping he explained to you. “Because if your lips taste that good alone, I'm dying to know how you taste between your legs. And I promise it will feel good for you.”

But you shook your head. “No it-” Sighing out of something unsure, you shifted up a bit more as Jon, returned to hovering somewhat over you. His hand never leaving your touch as it ran along your gentle cheek. Collecting your thoughts, ignoring how your neck and breasts stung with the same bruising from his mouth, and yet feeling lightheaded at how much you like the feeling. “Men only do that stuff in videos, none of you really want to do that.”

You didn't understand why Jon was looking at you that way. Confused and if you weren't mistaken, almost a bit heartbroken. Asking roughly and short in tone, “What else did those two say. About sex, about what people do together?”

That was easy, they told you consistent things. Which was why you were so confused as if it was the first time anyone was telling Jon something men were all supposed to have agreed on. Anything a man does to you, you owe him back, be it between your legs or getting on your knees. All that romantic stuff was for movies and all the stuff men did in porn to pleasure women was just that, for porn. They didn't like it, they both were just actors doing a job.

He had to look way for a moment, Jon couldn't look at the genuine, almost innocent expression on your face as you said all of this. Hands curling onto a fist as they rested beside your body in the sheets but he shook his head. Jaw clenching trying to keep it together before rasping out, “I need you to listen to me. And I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but you need to hear this. Karl and Ramsay were just using you for sex. They didn't care how you felt or if you liked it, they wanted to fuck you and all they cared about was that you let them.”

He was right, you didn't really feel good inside your heart hearing it. But it paired so oddly with the way he was looking at you with something you were a bit scared to admit you were hoping looked like love. Your voice was as week and unsure. “I..I just wanted to do this right this time..Ramsay used to always leave to go see another girl.. so I started just doing what he wanted because I thought he was losing interest because I was doing it wrong.”

Were you not laying gently out and naked on his bed, Jon may have found the anger in him to lash out at that. Unable to stop thinking that you knew, you knew Ramsay saw other girls and he wouldn't put it passed Karl to do the same. You were someone he loved, but in a way Jon knew he had his work cut out for him with you. You had a lot to learn about your own pleasure.

Leaning into you, Jon forced you to lay back down against his bed. Capturing your lips in a quick but biting kiss, muttering into them as he pulled back. “Will you let me prove you wrong? Will you let me taste you? Make you feel good like you deserve?” Trying to ask what about him and Jons eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head desperate for his mouth to just drink between your legs already. A growl deep in his words. “I promise, darling. This is as much for me, as it is for you.”

Nodding with a hesitant, “Please..” Jon knew he had to control his need. He'd keep you here pinned to his mouth another time, but right now he needed to show you why you deserved this kind of pleasure and why he wanted it so badly. “I trust you, Jon.”

His kiss was much softer then, muttering “I'll take care of you.”

Moving down, Jon hoisted one of your thighs up over his shoulder, nudging your other open wider on his bed as you shook. Feeling his warm breath, Jon pressed a gentle kiss to your clit. Jumping slightly in his tough, he reached out to grasp your hips, gently shushing you. “It's alright, I've got you.”

Each subsequent kiss was slowly followed by his tongue gently licking at the bundle of nerves, building the fire within up and up within you but keeping you perched on the edge of an orgasm, already feeling somewhat embarrassed by how quickly he worked you to it. Jon however, hardly cared. Sucking it more before running his tongue tightly against it, his eyes closed you felt his facial hair burn between you, gasping out at the roughness contrasted to his mouth licking and nibbling at your clit. But yet, it was another gentle kiss which pushed you. Arching off the bed, Jon grasped your free leg and threw it over his shoulder before yanking you down the bed.

Tongue hot and wet, licking flat down your folds to your core and were his eyes not closed he'd have them rolling onto the back of his head at the taste. If possible, you came quicker. Barley managing to drink every bit of wetness you gifted him between your legs, Jon heard you cry his name with breathless pleas as if this was even a fraction of how long he'd keep you there. Licking flat, he ran his tongue just barley inside of your cunt as you let go once more.

You had not realized how terribly worked up you felt until your orgasm let free within Jons tasting mouth as he grunted against you. Drawing back up to your clit he let those sparks of twisting need feel overwhelmed a bit more before kissing up your mound and to your stomach. Your mind a mess, not noticing really what he was doing now as your eyes closed and ringing in your ears from something so burning so addictingly inside your core.

By the time Jon surged upwards, he gently hooked your hip at his thigh, leaning to kiss you again, your hands winding behind his neck. A gentle smile came over him as he pulled away, “I know it was a lot, but tell me, did you enjoy it?” Nodding, still catching your breath, he smiled brighter. A single kiss to your lips. “Good, because we're going to do that longer and longer each time from now on. I want you to feel as good as I do. Now, we don't have to do anything more,”

Just as Jon trailed off, you felt a shiver run down your spine and arms into your chest. Feeling his cock gently run along your soaked core, you hadn't even been in the head space to notice when he took everything else off of himself. It was overwhelming, being bare against Jon who matched in his bed like this, but you couldn't feel the nerves normally present. You looked up at his bright grey eyes and closed yours to kiss him.

Hardly pulling back to whisper, “Please, Jon. I want to feel you inside me, I've wanted to for so long..”

Dropping his head in your neck, he muttered just as low and rough. “I know, darling. I know.” You read the unspoken of his own desire matching so perfectly for so long yet only now were about to join in a harmony.

Sliding inside of you slowly, Jon growled without removing himself from your neck at how smoothly you took his entire cock, but yet the tensing of nails in his skin at your sharp gasp. He stretched you so thick, you felt woozy thinking of his size, of how deep he was. A shameful thought would your hand even be able to wrap around him.

But he slid deep, and never sped up. Slowly pulling almost all the way out, Jon slowly pushed back in. Your cunt soaking around him, but only small sounds shared in the air other then the obscene sound each time his cock sunk deep as you were utterly wet around him. To either man before him, this pace would be unbearable and awful. But with Jon, you felt as shaking in need clenching around him as he throbbed inside of you.

Pulling up, his eyes hooded and his lips parted, he kissed you with a sloppiness that you matched, each slow thrust of his cock somehow less urgent then the gentle, slow manner he kissed your lips. Every step of the way you felt embarrassed how you came so easily, but Jon never stopped for one. Until you would cry out from too much, Jon wouldn't leave.

Slowly letting his cock push deep inside of you, licking his way into your mouth to match such a pace, but he kept going. Throbbing deeply as you let a leg wrap somewhat around him, Jon groaned your name just barley against your lips. As unexpected as your end was found with him inside you, Jon almost surprised himself with how suddenly he finished. Throbbing inside of your soaking, tight walls, Jon suddenly buried his head in your hair, pulling you to his neck as he pressed tightly against you into the bed.

Spilling inside of you, you felt his seed was somehow almost hot. Thick that you felt strange taking so much of it so deep but you let your other leg find your ankle around his back as Jon almost grasped at your waist to keep you steady as he slowly filled you with his thick, pouring seed. Your heart feeling light in your chest, but as Jon pulled you both up to meet your lips something in his passion told you he felt the same floating feeling.

Though you did notice, how he had yet to lose any shred of how hard his cock was inside of you despite cumming mere seconds ago. And when Jon didn't pull out, only sped his pace up just the slightest as he once more thrusted in and out of your cunt, his forehead leaned against your as you wrapped up in each other.

It was slow, and not urgent, and still very much brand new to a strange degree but Jons cock gentle inside of you was the first time you both felt as if you finally fit into each others life properly.

It was some hours later when you both properly emerged to the world. Only after Jon had lost his control when trying to clean you both up, and pressed you against the wall of the shower. Holding your hands above your head against the tile as he slid inside of you again and again. Only when the water turned cold did he pull out.

Each time a little faster, a little rougher, and a little more greedy for what you finally let him sink his cock deep inside as if you both desperately needed it. Which you did, only, your hearts also followed such a connection that time.

The topic though, was not at all addressed in the apartment until that evening when Robb and Theon came home. Jon had currently been hovering by you looking into the fridge as you both decided what you would cook together. His hand so freely pressing against your lower back in such an intimate stance for two best friends.

Theon had commented first, much to how quickly it made you playfully roll your eyes. “So, are we turning your room into a nursery, or have you two not moved everything into his yet?”

Robb's laugh was louder then Theons, but nowhere near as free and amused as Jons as he joined. Pulling your head close to press a kiss to the side of your hair, did it clue in. They had all been waiting for something to happen.

You were just the last one to find out it was not for anything morose. Theon and Robb had simply put bets as to how long it would take for Jon to finally make a move. Though, considering both of them handed the silver to Jon instead, your realized no matter what changed between the love you felt for your best friend, you still lived with three brothers who all were very unaffected by this new development.

Theon once more asking in jest about the nursery thing, and in truth, Jon had left you entirely flustered as he muttered both into your ear and loud enough for the others to hear, “We have a lot of years to make up for, shouldn't take long.” Your hanging head and deep sigh had all three laugh at your expense that time.

Some things it seemed, would always stay the same between you four.

[findafight]

Just wanted to let you know that I have not been able to stop thinking about your Steve/Barb au it's so good!! and so interesting to think about how that would change things!! Idk rare pairs are so fun to think about!

Forgive me if this is not where you were going with this but I'm thinking about Barb surviving the demogorgons attack because she's not in the pool with a cut hand. Barb doesn't know where she is or what happened to her, but she's scared and she knows that /something/ is hunting her. Everything smells like rot and decay and all she's focused on is survival. Her glasses are broken and gone, and she's sprained an ankle, but she's alive. Steve's sweatshirt is warm and still smells like him. It's a comfort, she thinks, as she runs and hides in the woods behind Steve's house.

Topside Steve is getting sucked into the Upside down stuff way earlier because his sort of (they haven't made it official yet) girlfriend is missing after leaving his house and she wouldn't just dissapear like that. And he's scared but he has to do /something/.

After some time in the Upside Down, God knows how long, Barb hears something. And it doesn't sound like the monster that's hunting her. So she stays silent, grabs hold of a stick or something to make herself feel safer, and peeks. And it's a boy. Alive. Human. Trapped just like her. And then for a while it's her and Will Byers, growing weaker and trying so hard to stay alive and let people know they're there.

Eventually, they get out. And she's sick and barely holding on and traumatized but she's alive and in the hospital recovering. As soon as Steve's allowed to see her he's there. He's bought flowers and a fluffy teddy bear. He calls her Barbie because he knows she'll roll her eyes fondly at him. He kisses her forehead and holds her hand.

Sorry this isn't more coherent I'm just !!!!!! Thoughts!!!!!

Are you in my brain?? Because exactly. (I have been holding on to "steve is the only one allowed to call her barbie" for way too long. not even romantically just in "barb lives au" they deserve to be annoying friends to each other haha) In the show Barb almost got away, and possibly would have it weren't for the fact she was in the pool, so I don't think it's too far of a stretch for us to say she survives in this au (there is a version where she dies and it's just. Angst. But that's not this one!)

I think the potential for Nancy to suspect Steve of doing something (even when it was Jonathan who is officially the last person to see her) would lead her to Jonathan. Similar to the show, she sort of just...brushes off the creepy pictures (it's both easier and hard for her here because it's not her in the pictures so who cares...but it's Barb [and Steve] so she cares very much, actually) and they go monster hunting without Steve and see the deer and Nancy gets pulled in through the tree etc.

Steve, who's definitely freaking out that is (basically) girlfriend is missing and her best friend is mad at him and won't talk to him, uses his ninja skills to check on her to see if she's okay, and sees her with Jonathan. Nancy isn't his girlfriend so the only thing he's mad about is her hanging out with the perv who took pictures of him and Barb and specifically a picture of her almost in her car which they know she never got into. So he knocks on the window and they jump but let him in. And that's how Steve gets into monster hunting. (idk if Tommy and Carol also join...maybe Steve waves them off through the window, maybe he gestures for them to come to...idk. much to think about. Maybe they don't join the upside down gang but they remain friends with Steve and know Something Happened, but he can't tell them what)

blah blah blah it all basically goes the same except because no cheating allegations there's no graffiti or fight, Steve 100% gives a backhanded apology for breaking Jon's camera "Hey, man. I shouldn't have broken your camera like that even if you deserved it..." or something. The trio fight the demogrogon, even if Steve is a bit, ah, weary of leaving a bunch of twelve-year-olds who have proven that they don't listen to grown ups when they say to leave well enough alone even for their own safety...but leave them he does. Fight an interdimensional monster with a nailbat he does. Dies, he doesn't.

Meanwhile, now that our girl Barb has survived he initial confrontation with the monster with no face, she's wandering, hiding, around the woods behind Steve's house except...it's not actually Steve's house. It's some twisted up version, and it's dark and creepy and oh so scary. Her glasses are cracked through one lens but it's better than not being able to see at all or not feel the comforting weight on her nose, and Steve's sweatshirt is big, comfy, and smells like him. She holds onto these tiny bits of home as she tries to figure out how to get out of...wherever she is.

At some point, she hears shuffling in the woods, but not from the monster. It's definitely smaller, and...there's a voice. Singing. She walks over quietly, and says "hi". the little boy jumps and stares, wide-eyed. They stick together, she holds him close.

When all is said and done, she and Will end up sharing a hospital room, due to Upside Down convenience. She;s older and wasn't in it for as long, but she's still weak. Her parents are besides themselves, having been told it was a gas leak that led her to be disoriented and lost in the woods, only by grace of god did she find and help Will.

Steve is behind them, with scratches on his face and a haunted look in his eye, but he smiles a little, and wiggles his fingers at her. She wiggles hers back. Her parents shuffle around, and leave the room to talk to the doctor. He sits beside her and reaches out to gently fiddle with her fingers.

"Hey," she says.

His voice is soft, when he responds, "hey," and doesn't take his eyes off her face.

She squeezes his fingers a bit. "heard you fought an interdimensional monster with, like, a lot of teeth for me."

He shrugs, squeezes back. "also to get Will Byers back."

"He's a good kid." she flicks her eyes to where little Will is being smothered by his gaggle of friends who nearly died trying to get him back.

Steve blinks rapidly, and tucks his chin to his chest. "I was so worried, Barbie." the nickname usually annoys Barb, too baby-ish, too connected to the doll, too...a lot of things. But Steve says it like it's precious, like she's precious, and she thinks letting her boyfriend (because that's what he is, isn't he? What's a boy you kiss and who would fight monsters to find you?) can call her Barbie.

"I'm back. I'm okay now."

"Yeah. But. Christ, things could have gone so much worse." He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezes his eyes shut.

"Hey." she rubs the back of his hand with her thumb. "Hey. It didn't though. The government goons will be on us, sure. But Will is safe. I'm safe. All those kids and Nancy and Jonathan are safe. You're safe. Okay? And, when I get out of here, you're taking me out for burgers and milkshakes."

He smiles, actually smiles all squinty-eyed and toothy, "Yeah. okay. It's a date."

"Yeah, it is. I've got high expectations, Harrington. Killing a monster for a girl really sets the bar high, you know."

He laughs, and presses a kiss to her cheek, smiling.

(later, he tells her everything that happened on the rightside up, and she tells Jonathan to burn the negatives and that her boyfriend has a nailbat he's pretty good with, so he better not try to trick her...)

and idk. i think they're cute. They bicker, and Steve chooses topics just to rile her up so she'll roll her eyes at him but then explain why exactly he's wrong in step-by-step detail, and he also scoops her up and twirls her around and kisses her in the halls. they're gross and in love. In s2, i think Nancy still wants to expose the lab (other people did die, those hunters? what happened to them?) and both steve and barb are like "they will kill us" (pragmatic duo) so that's why they both go to nancy's to try to talk to her about it, which is how dustin kidnaps them, etc.

s3 we get scoops troop except robin is just tallying how many times Steve sighs dreamily until his gf comes by and he turns into a golden retriever and robin is like. ew. straight people (they are not, actually. I have a coming out scene between starb (seriously i need to figure out a ship name for them haha) that involves barb telling steve she once had a crush on nancy and steve's like yes obviously everybody has crushes on their best friend of the same gender you just don't do anything about it...like buddy...do i have news for you...bi4bi starbara) anyways the five of them get stuck in the elevator, stobin still hold the door, get tortured, etc, but this time dustin and erica have Angry Protective GF on their side. They get out, steve and robin have bathroom confessionals, which involves robin asking if steve's ever been in love and then immediately realizing he's going to wax poetic about Barb and steve also being like "i wanna be your best friend sooo bad barb said i maybe have a crush on you but i don't i wanna be like, the best man at your wedding, y'know? you're so fun and make me laugh and I want you and Barb to get along because I love Barbie and omg you could be my kids' auntieeee..." and robin tells him that he doesn't know her, and if he did he wouldn't want her around any of his hypothetical future children, tells him about tammy, and they sing total eclipse of the heart when dustin erica and barb bust in, and steve is like "barbie, honey pie, robin is gonna be our kids' godmother." as though that makes any sense. everyone else is like ????

idk i just like monster fighting power couple barb/steve a lot i think theyre neat.

[love-kurdt]

Now That We Don't Talk (byler): 1

word count: 13,034

warnings for this chapter: mild sexual content, a few homophobic slurs. this is semi-autobiographical so pls be kind <3

in short, if you are emotionally or mentally vulnerable, pls dni.

When Will Byers first moved to California, it had taken him two whole months to fully unpack his boxes. And it wasn’t really a mystery as to why; he had no desire to be there. Yes, he’d admit that he wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of Hawkins, either, considering the events of the past few years, but when it all came down to the nitty-gritty, Hawkins was the lesser of two evils. Because Hawkins had Mike, and Lenora was… well, Mike-less. He’d never really thought about life without Mike in it up until then, because he didn’t think he’d ever have to. But then he did have to. And it was an awful feeling.

They’d driven away from the old house, and Will watched as Mike became smaller and smaller, until he was merely a stick figure in the passenger side mirror. Will blinked his tears away and turned his gaze to the road ahead, trying to focus on the lyrics of whatever song by the Smiths that Jon was playing, but it was impossible to take his mind off of his new reality. As cliché as this sounds, Will felt a piece of his heart break that day. And from the look on Mike’s face as he stood idly by, bike leaning against his hip, he was hurting just as much as Will was. He’d looked lost, confused, and hurt. Will could totally relate.

When the Byers arrived in their new house, Will had mixed feelings about it at first, because that’s what usually happens when you arrive in an unfamiliar environment, but those feelings pretty much dissipated within a day. The house was bigger, for one, which was nice in a way. It had two floors, and had enough rooms in it so that El, Jon, and Will didn’t have to bunk up like they’d been doing up until the move. It was in a bigger town than Hawkins was, so not everybody knew each other’s business. Which was great, considering that the Zombie Boy name hadn’t been able to tag along for the ride.

It was a lot warmer than it had been in Hawkins, and he’d grown to hate the cold over the past few years, so that was a welcome change. It was a welcome change for everyone. They’d taken time during their first week in their new home to just sit together on the deck, basking in the sunshine. They learned quickly that sunscreen was a must in California, even when it wasn’t scorching hot. Will had burnt his nose on more than one occasion, and El proceeded to call him Rudolph at every possible opportunity.

El’s addition to the family was another perk of moving. El and Joyce had been able to bond really well, albeit over the loss of Hopper, but also because Joyce finally had a daughter. El and Jon got along well, too, which was nice. And Will was cool with her. She never did anything wrong to him… besides dating Mike, of course, but that was completely out of his control. Plus, it wasn’t like he’d ever want to be with Will in that way. He’d set that in stone over that one summer when he told Will, “It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”

Not even half an hour after their fight in the rain, Mike and Lucas had biked over to Will’s house to apologize. Of course, his demolition of Castle Byers and the return of the Mind Flayer had Will kind of preoccupied at that point, so nothing officially happened to resolve that situation. It was the Subject Change of the Century; they got so wrapped up in the Upside Down stuff that Mike and Will put it off, then put it off some more, and then swept it under the rug altogether.

Nothing was the same after that night… at least, not on Will’s end. What Mike said to him kind of changed his life. He’d become so dependent upon Mike’s overwhelming presence near him all the time that he kind of lost sight of himself and his own identity. In his mind, he wasn’t Will; he was Mike’s-Friend-Will. He felt worthless without Mike, and was always so quick to forgive him out of fear of losing him that he’d inadvertently become Passive with a capital P. And he didn’t want to be that way anymore. So Will created a strictly platonic boundary between them, one that allowed the tension to dissolve, and to give himself space to grieve the idea of Mike he’d created; the one who loved Will back. And then… they were back to best friends again. Just in time for Will to move. At least he and Mike would still be able to talk over the phone.

Will could not have been more wrong. Mike did not make a single call for the entire seven months that he was in Lenora. He didn’t send a single letter, either. Well, at least not to Will. El was in correspondence with him literally every week, practically skipping into the house after trips to the mailbox with letters upon letters in her hands, beaming with excitement. Will hated to admit it, but it got really annoying after a while. Then, she’d started building a shoebox shrine to Mike, and Will was just like, what’s so special about him? He’s just Mike. But then he realized that if he were in her shoes, he would be doing the exact same thing. Because he was Just Mike, and that was why Will loved him.

After watching this go on for a few months, Will kind of fell into a depression, and El was too busy swooning over all the “From, Mike”s to notice that he was falling apart. Will had resigned from the idea of reaching out to Mike, because Mike hadn’t made any kind of effort to reach out to him. That was when he decided to finally start unpacking his boxes. Unpacking meant that the move became real. Unpacking meant that it was permanent. Unpacking meant that he’d have to officially start his new life, at a new school— high school— without Mike in it.

Each box represented a call and letter El received. His clothes were put on hangers in the closet, and his art supplies finally found a place next to his bedroom window. And all of Mike’s writing was shoved away into the darkest depths of Will’s lowest desk drawer, never to see the light of day again. Yeah, Will was being petty, but he was angry. He deserved to be angry, damnit. He was angry at Mike for abandoning him, and he was angry at himself for being delusional enough to believe Mike cared that much about their friendship.

But then, Will started the painting. The Painting. He’d sworn to himself that he would stop making art that revolved around Mike. He would no longer be Will’s muse. He’d started off the piece as a typical landscape, but he added the Thessalhydra, and then he added himself, Lucas, Dustin, and… Mike, at the front, leading the Party to victory. Screw it, Will had thought to himself, everyone else is in the painting, it’d be weird not to include Mike. When he painted the red heart on Mike’s shield as a finishing touch, it hit Will like a truck that he’d created one of his best paintings to date with Mike in his subconscious thoughts the whole time. Mike was inescapable. There was no use in ripping himself up over what he couldn’t control, so Will figured he’d just give Mike the painting during Spring Break.

Spring Break happened, and boy (man, really; the boyish look had almost completely faded away), Mike had changed, in more ways than one. He’d shown up the airport gate nearly half a foot taller, with sharper cheekbones, longer hair, and a deeper voice, wearing the dumbest looking outfit Will had ever seen. He was so happy to see Mike. Mike hadn’t been as excited as Will was, considering the timid clap on the shoulder he’d been given while Will had gone in expecting one of Mike’s amazing, tight hugs. He’d always given the best hugs. Not anymore. So Will tucked the rolled up painting back under his arm and took a step back, letting El and Mike have their time together as a couple. He admired Mike from afar, but that was all Will ever did.

Mike had changed, in more ways than one; he’d gotten so much more attractive… but he’d also turned into a total asshole. Will finally confronted him about his standoffish behavior at Rink-o-Mania, and he’d placed all the blame on Will, not once taking responsibility for essentially forgetting that Will existed, and on his birthday, no less. When he asked why El got so many letters while he got absolutely nothing, Mike replied that it was because she was his girlfriend. Which, yeah, obviously. But when Will followed up with, “...And us?” Mike had snapped, “We’re friends. We’re. Friends.” As the two of them laid in bed that night, it set in that Mike had taken Will’s question in a romantic context. That made his heart flutter a little bit, but he shut himself down immediately, because he was not going down that road again.

Will’s mood hadn’t shifted much when they initially arrived back in Hawkins, following the worst road trip he had ever had the displeasure of going on. He had been trapped in a weed-infused van, sitting inches away from a wordless Mike. He’d given the painting to Mike and lied about its origins just to boost his ego. And worst of all, Will endured an Emotional Michael Monologue in which he told El that he loved her multiple times. When they got out of the van, Will had taken the biggest sigh of relief, because thank God the suffering was over. Oh wait, no, scratch that, because the suffering had only just begun; Vecna was the “Him,” Will was feeling all those years, and “He,” was destroying Hawkins as they spoke.

About a month into the Vecnapocalypse (Dustin had been the one to coin that term, and Will doubled over laughing during a very important group meeting when he’d first used it), Mike had told Will that he’d finally broken up with El. Will was secretly elated; the mope-fest was finally over. But when Mike revealed the reason why they’d broken up, which was the very painting that Will had used as a device to try and clear the air between Mike and his sister, Will’s back-breaking efforts seemed to be all for nothing. They had a little argument-turned-heart-to-heart about it, but they hugged it out in the end like best friends do. And things were fine. They were a team again, and that’s what mattered most.

The dynamic between Mike and Will changed, though, throughout the course of the Vecnapocalypse. And Will wasn’t complaining. They’d gone from being virtually radio silent to… whatever the situation was. They’d flirt, hold hands, listen to each other’s mixtapes, and partnered up together during missions. This continued on for a while until one particular moment in the Upside Down, when Mike had leaned in a bit too close, almost as if we were about to… no way. Will was beyond tempted to lean in as well, caving into the deepest desire he’d ever had in his life: kissing Michael James Wheeler square on the mouth. And he almost did. However, in typical Mike fashion, ever the dramatic, Mike jumped backwards, stumbled outside, tripped over a gigantic vine, and triggered a bunch of Demobats to swarm the Upside Down version of the Wheeler house. After that shit show, Will couldn’t help but be a little bit bitter towards Mike. That side-battle could have cost them everything. Vecna could have won. And on top of all that, Will was tired of being led on by Mike and all of his contradictions, so he kept Mike at a physical distance from there on out. They never brought up the Almost-Kiss ever again.

Things got even stranger a few years later. On one particularly gross day in August of 1989, he’d dropped by the Wheelers’ to ask Mike if he wanted to watch a movie later that night. Will headed up to Mike’s room, and the door was slightly ajar, so he lightly knocked. No response. Mike probably had his headphones on or something. Will walked in, but he was nowhere to be seen. Mike’s notebook was lying open on his desk beside a pile of multiple ripped-out pages, with one of his signature blue LePens sitting on top of the page, the cap cast to the side. Mike had a bad habit of accidentally letting his overly-expensive pens dry out, so Will figured he’d do him a favor and put it back on and save him the trouble. He took a few steps over to Mike’s desk and reached for the pen, but immediately paused in his tracks when he noticed the first two words written on top of the page.

Dear Will,

He shouldn’t have read any further, because he wasn’t sure if it was Mike’s intention for him to even see it, but it was too late to go back. His eyes involuntarily scanned the page, widening more and more with every sentence.

Dear Will, When I look into your eyes, I see the rest of my life. Poetic, I know. It kind of came out of nowhere. You know I’m not much of a poetry kind of guy, I’m more of a storyteller, but the thought came to me in a dream I had about you, and I just had to write it down in one of these letters.

Hold up, Will thought. What the hell? He… had a dream about me? Why would he have a dream about… Why me? What letters? What was he talking ab— His eyes hesitantly drifted to the pile of papers beside the notebook. He gulped, his suspicions confirmed.

You’re asleep in my bed, and I’m hunched over my desk, writing this letter because I am freaking the fuck out. And not because I almost ruined our chance to defeat Vecna. Well, that too, sorry about that. But the primary reason for my current freak out session is because we almost kissed. And that’s weird.

He flipped to the next one.

Something is wrong with me. I swear to God, I didn’t mean for this to happen. But I keep staring at you for longer than I should. And I can’t look away. I haven’t been able to since the Almost Kiss™. You’ve caught me looking these past few times and I feel myself burning up like a match every time. And I’ve come to the conclusion that you, Will Byers, are my flame.

And the next one.

I’ve kind of gotten used to sleeping in the same bed as you, subconsciously cuddling through the night, and waking up tangled together. Your face is so relaxed right now, and you hum contentedly to yourself every few minutes. It’s so fucking cute. I’m glad you’re not having as many nightmares anymore. Or, at least you’re having slightly better dreams. I should go to bed soon. I don’t want you to catch me writing. But yeah. You’re adorable. And I really like you.

And the next one.

I was so caught off guard by the fact that you called me cute that I couldn’t get any words out. You turned around quickly to get your bike and hopped on, giving me a small wave as you left my driveway. And it hit me then: I love you. I am in love with you. Unabashedly, wholeheartedly, head over my fucking heels in love with you. And believe me, this has been a long time coming, and not just because you complimented me. I think I’ve loved you for a long time. I just didn’t know what it was.

And the next one.

Why does loving you feel so wrong, yet so right? It seems like for every thought I have about you, another comes to bite me in the ass. I wish I could just think about you in peace without all of the shame. But at the same time, I know it isn’t normal for me to like you, to love you, to want you. I’m usually able to stop my mind from wandering into that territory, but there’s something about you that is making it more and more difficult for me to resist those thoughts from entering my head. I think the main culprit is your shoulders. Yes, I said it. I am attracted to your shoulders. Specifically when you wear your polo shirts that are a size or two too small and hug your upper body a little too tightly. Or when you steal my leather jacket and shove it on, and it accentuates your arms, rather than making them disappear like it does to mine. You’re so attractive, it’s actually crazy. I think my brain needs to catch up to my heart. Because my heart is thriving, but my brain is a killjoy.

Another.

I turned to my dad with a wild look in my eyes (probably), and said some shit like, “Yeah, me and my boyfriend, Will Byers, had such a great time last night! We stared longingly into each others’ eyes for hours, then we cuddled, then we kissed, and then we got each other off! It was so hot, Dad. Truly. I wish you could’ve seen–” … I know what I said was a lot. I mean, it was pretty vulgar. Plus, it's never actually happened, and it never will happen. So I'm sorry about that.

Another.

I found this set of dice, though, and they were just… so you. They were a deep, translucent purple with gold stars painted around each number, all of which were also gold. They reminded me of your Will the Wise costume. I know you haven’t worn it in a long time, and that’s probably my fault. I think the last time you wore it was the day we had that fight in the garage, when I told you it wasn’t my fault you didn’t like girls. And the sick, twisted irony of that is, in reality, I’m the one out of the both of us who doesn’t like girls.

Another. Another. Another.

I think about you and those fucking gorgeous lips almost every waking moment. And the urge to follow through with my desire to kiss you always gets stronger whenever you’re in the room. Which is unfortunate, since you’re always in the room now— specifically my room, because it’s summer, so of course we’re hanging out every day. We made that stupid promise to dedicate one-on-one time to just the two of us. If only “one-on-one” was synonymous with “you-on-me.” Or “me-on-you”…? Either would work for me, honestly. But there’s something about the thought of you straddling me and leaning your entire body weight onto me that makes me weak in the knees. I’m kind of glad your mom wanted you home tonight, because there’s only so long I can refrain from lunging into your space and holding your face in between my hands and

But then, your very short swim trunks clung to your thighs, and eventually, I was able to see the full outline of your dick. Like, the whole thing. Those shorts do not leave anything to the imagination. And, imagine I did. I began to fantasize about the most lewd things: getting you off with my hand, sucking you until you came down my throat, using those thick thighs to grind myself down onto, groping your perfect ass as you flip me over onto my back, feeling the sensation of our cocks rubbing together through our clothes, feeling you on me, inside of me. That last mental image snapped me out of my thoughts, and I realized I was rock hard in my own swim trunks.

We fell asleep, together, on the couch last night, cuddling like we had during the time that you lived with me, and I felt something similar to homesickness. Nostalgia. When we woke up, I was resting my head on your chest, and I shifted my eyes upwards to look at your lips, which were slightly parted by the soundest of sleeps. I wanted to kiss you. I really, really wanted to kiss you, Will. And I want you to hold me in your arms forever, because it’s the only place I can truly call home.

Will continued shuffling through the letters, counting twenty five. Plus the one in the notebook, which made a grand total of twenty six. He could barely believe what he was seeing. This had to be a kind of creative writing exercise or something. Or maybe Mike had met another person named Will and… fallen deeply in love with them? Or maybe it was a cruel joke Mike was playing on him, because he’d decided that writing love letters would be a good prank to pull on his gay best friend. Mike had no right to do this to him. No fucking right. Will ripped the last letter out of the notebook, gathered the rest of them between his sweaty hands, and headed down the two flights of stairs leading to the basement.

When he’d attempted to confront Mike about the letters, Will was pinned against the wall and kissed as if it were something he should have been expecting that entire time. There was no way Will could have fathomed that this was how his time in Hawkins was going to close out. He’d been looking forward to the point in his life where everything could just be normal for once; he’d been on a decent roll for the past two years. But Mike just had to go and drop the bomb on Will that he wanted the two of them to spend the rest of their lives together, and that threw Will for a goddamn loop, because in what world– in what universe– was Mike Wheeler loving him, Will Byers, even remotely viable? Had the Upside Down come back again? Was Will trapped in a nightmarish torture chamber, with Mike as the subject of said nightmare?

He would believe it, honestly; when Will mentally added up the Vecnapocalypse period of their relationship (including the Almost-Kiss), the endless mixed signals afterwards, senior prom, the letters, and the probability that Mike would have just let Will leave town without admitting his stupid, dumb, impossible feelings or letting him know about all of those love letters he’d written over the past few years, it made sense. And that kiss, if he’d really meant it, made Mike’s stance on their relationship crystal fucking clear, leaving Will feeling breathless and blindsided. By the time he escaped the Wheeler house that humid August evening with tears following the semi-permanent track marks that stained Will’s face due to crying for literal years back to back, he knew for sure and certain that he couldn’t spend one more week in Hawkins, Indiana. He was done.

Will had been pretty damn quick about escaping Hawkins to begin with, but the urgency to get away from Mike only accelerated his timeline. He spent the rest of the summer avoiding Mike at all costs; he’d been working at Melvald’s with his mom all summer, but started picking up extra hours under the guise of wanting to save as much money as he could for a new car– which he’d already had more than enough money for, but still. Time spent at work was time spent away from Mike. And a couple extra paychecks couldn’t hurt. Joyce certainly didn’t complain; she loved having Will around, and savored every moment she could with her Baby Boy before he moved to the Windy City.

Will realized, as he sat on his mattress amongst heaps of boxes scattered across the floor of his dorm at the American Academy of Art, that anger seemed to fuel his unpacking process. It ignited the flame of desire for transition and change in his life. And oh, after the summer Will just had, did he desperately need a change. This particular change, Will decided, would be good for him. He was out of Hawkins, at his dream school, about to begin studying the subject that he loved most in the entire world, and Michael Wheeler wasn’t around anymore to throw him off. He grabbed a marker out of his pencil case and marked off the date on his calendar: Sunday, August 20th, 1989. This was going to be a good, drama-less, normal year. Will could feel it.

“That’s everything, huh?” he turned to look towards the doorway, where his mom stood with misty eyes. She took a few steps inside, letting the door close, and Will hopped off his bed and wrapped her in a tight embrace, kissing the top of her head.

“Yeah, this is it,” Will said, his voice shaking a little bit with overwhelming emotion. It was bittersweet. Yes, he hated Hawkins, and was grateful to have finally escaped, but he also hated the idea of leaving his mom back in Indiana. She’d brushed Will’s concern off, saying she wouldn’t be alone, because his stepdad would be there with her. Will didn’t even like referring to Hopper as his stepdad. He’d accidentally called Hopper “Dad,” over dinner a year ago, and after an emotional encounter where James Hopper, the Hawkins Chief of Police, shed actual tears, the name kind of stuck. Hopper couldn’t make the trip up to Chicago with Joyce, as he needed to help El move into her dorm at Vanderbilt University.

Joyce pulled back to smile up at Will. “You are going to do, and are already doing, great things in this world, Will. You deserve every opportunity you’ve been given, and more. I am so proud to be your mom.” He felt tears pricking his eyes. He’d miss his mom the most.

“I love you,” Will replied, hugging her once more in order to avoid an emotional breakdown. He’d gotten close to having one at least five times throughout the day, but never did. He saw the door open out of his peripheral vision, and he lifted his head to see a guy step into the room. His hair was shaved down to a buzzcut, and a copious amount of freckles splayed themselves across his face. He casually strode right past Will, without even acknowledging his existence, before tossing a duffel bag onto his bed and unzipping it. Only now did Will notice the near-complete setup on the other side of the room; he’d apparently been here for a while.

Will decided to talk first and introduce himself, because this guy clearly wasn’t willing to make any effort. He wanted to make a good impression, even if Buzzcut Dude didn’t. 

“Hey, uh, I’m Will. Byers.”

“Aaron Heathrow,” Buzzcut Dude– Aaron– replied, turning towards Will. They gained eye contact for the first time, and Aaron’s eyebrows curved into backwards S’s on his forehead. He looked Will up and down and scoffed, returning to his unpacking without another word. Well. This was going to be an awkward arrangement, that was for sure.

“Honey, let’s go check out the common area!” Joyce broke the silence, and Will couldn’t help but glare back at her. He wanted to deal with this on his own. Will loved his mom with his entire heart and would literally die for her, but this was not his idea of a fresh start. Joyce gave him a knowing look and Will, knowing his mother’s stubborn nature all too well, followed her out the door and down the hallway. She led them toward the armchairs in the common area and gestured for him to sit down next to her. Will knew where this was going, but he obliged anyway.

“Are you sure–”

“Mom, oh my God, I’m fine–”

“He just seemed very–”

“Yeah, okay, he was rude,” Will kept his voice low at the risk of people overhearing, but keeping his tone firm. “But not everyone in this world is kind. I, of all people, should know that.” He watched as his mom’s features fell from their usual anxiety-riddled state and into more of an empathetic sadness.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” she murmured, and for a second, he felt badly for snapping. He shook off that shame, because as unfortunate as this situation was, Will knew in his gut that he was right; the world didn’t owe kindness to him. But he also knew he didn’t owe kindness to the world, either. It had taken enough from Will already.

“I just want to stick this out for a little bit before jumping to conclusions,” he said, and his mom went to talk, but he continued on before she could. “I’ll switch rooms if anything does happen, I promise.” He took his mom’s hands in his own in an attempt to put her mind at ease, which would not be an easy feat, but he could at least try.

Apparently it worked, because the next thing she said to Will caught me off guard: “Okay, sweetie. I’m sorry if I overstepped.” Who was this woman, and what did she do with Joyce Byers-Hopper? Hell if Will knew.

“No, it’s fine,” he assured her, “I just… I want to start making my own decisions and being more independent and stuff. And I want you to know that I’ll be okay.” He placed a hand on Joyce’s shoulder, knowing that this transition would be incredibly difficult for her to process. After everything that had happened with the Upside Down, Will had been shocked when his mom was so encouraging regarding his pursuit of art school. He’d assumed that she would want him to stay as close to Hawkins as possible. But in the end, she had been the one to slide the American Academy of Art pamphlet across the table.

“I know you will,” Joyce smiled up at Will, reaching up to pat his cheek. He leaned into the affection, knowing that this would probably be his last time seeing his mom until Thanksgiving. She raised her left wrist up to her face and squinted at her watch. “I should start heading home, before it gets dark. I love you, my sweet boy.”

Will couldn’t help but pull Joyce in for one last hug, feeling the emotion creep back into his voice as he told his mom that he loved her so much and to call him when she got home so he’d know she was safe and sound. He walked her out of the main lobby, waving as she headed back to the visitor parking lot. When she pulled away, Will turned on his heel and headed back up to his dorm room. His dorm room. Holy shit. He was in college. What even was life?

Will opened the door to his room and saw Aaron laying on his bed, his basketball short-clad legs spread obnoxiously far apart in front of him as he read what looked like a book about the Reign of Ronald Reagan. Lovely. Will diverted his eyes before Aaron could catch him staring, and focused on the pile of boxes he had yet to unpack. He picked one up, set it down on the edge of his bed, and unfolded the pre-bent corners on the top to reveal his extensive sweater collection. Perfect.

He pulled out the blue sweatshirt on top, letting it fall into its full form in his hands. Oh, god. This was Mike’s sweatshirt, the one Will stole from him last winter. He laid it out on the mattress and reached in for the next sweater, but there weren’t any more. He peered inside the box to see the dice… that Mike had given him for his seventeenth birthday, the picture frame… that held a photo Jonathan had taken last year when Mike had the genius idea to hop his six foot three self up onto his handlebars, and the binder… that held all of Mike’s letters that he’d written to Will. He’d kept everything in a shoebox under his bed back home, and he had no recollection of packing them. How did they end up making it to Chicago with him? No matter how it happened, it had, and Will was stuck with all these memories of Mike. He would never throw them out, because that would most definitely keep him up at night. And he didn’t want to hide them away, because despite the sadness he felt when he looked at them, they were also accompanied by a strange sense of appreciation for what he and Mike did have: thirteen years of friendship. That’s still something, right?

Will shrugged the sweatshirt on. I’m wearing it because it’s comfortable, he tried to justify himself to himself, not for any other reason. Now that that was settled, Will was determined to unpack something that would make his room feel like his own. He set the dice and the picture frame on his desk and reached over to the rolled-up posters that sat on top of all his bags. He removed the tape from the edges of one of them and unrolled it to reveal the album cover of Goodbye Yellow Brick Road by Elton John. He smiled to himself and grabbed a few thumbtacks from his box labeled “School Supplies,” before standing on top of his mattress and hanging the poster on the wall. Once Will was satisfied with its placement (five attempts and three concerningly lost thumbtacks later), he got off of his mattress and took a step back to admire his work, putting his hands on his hips.

“Elton John?” he heard a voice ask from behind him, and Will turned around to face Aaron, whose facial expression had settled into what looked like disgust. He’d forgotten Aaron was even there. “Jeez, man, if I knew I’d be dorming with a fag this year, I’d’ve brought my gun.” He knew it. He knew Aaron was a homophobe, he knew it from the second he’d looked Will up and down when he introduced myself earlier. Maybe Will’s mom was–

“Better to shoot you with, my dear,” Will replied coolly, before snapping his mouth shut and widening his eyes at the realization that he was the one who had just said that. He’d never been good at comebacks; that was more of Mike’s specialty. In high school, Will was the one stuttering out the lamest retorts of all time while Mike verbally kicked their bullies’ asses right back at record speed. Will envied his lack of filter sometimes.

“What did you just say?” Aaron narrowed his eyes and moved to get off his bed and meet Will in the middle of their room, so they stood face to face. Will could feel Aaron’s breath on his face, and it smelled like stale sour cream and onion chips, but he stood his ground.

“I said,” Will lowered his voice, moving closer into Aaron’s space, “I’m a pretty damn good shot, so you’d best leave me alone.” He took a few steps away from Will and put his hands up in surrender. Good. When Will promised to himself that things were going to be different, he meant it. He was not going to take any shit from this guy, or anyone else for that matter. Not anymore.

“Where was I?” Will asked himself, flipping right back into the good mood he’d been in before. He picked up the next one and hummed to himself before hanging up his poster of The Cure’s Boys Don’t Cry.

This campus was so confusing. Will had to stop and turn around on the sidewalk at least three times before he found the Convocation Hall, where he was due… right now for orientation. He pulled the unnecessarily heavy door open with all the strength he had, which was not much, but he managed to make it through and reach the sign in table for last names A-E.

“Hi! Welcome to freshman orientation!” the girl seated at the table smiled at Will, and he noticed little white stars drawn in the corners of her eyes. “Can I have your last name, please?”

“Sure, it’s Byers,” he replied, “B-Y-E-R-S.”

“William okay? For your name tag.”

“Just Will’s fine.”

“Alright,” she nodded, handing him one of those cheesy Hello My Name Is stickers. “So you’re gonna be over in circle seven, head on over there and take a seat!”

“Thank…” Will trailed off, having to squint so he could read the name she’d written on her tag. Kate. “Thank you, Kate!”

“You’re welcome!” she called after him, and he walked over towards the table with the giant green “7” centerpiece. He glanced down at his tag, noticing what Kate had written on the tag: Just Will. He swiveled around quickly, and watched as Kate snorted a laugh, giving him a thumbs up. She was funny. Will smiled back, returning the thumbs up before approaching his group.

He had no idea what to expect; they’d obviously be going over typical orientation things like campus life, rules and regulations, and maybe a fire escape route or two. But they would also more than likely be doing icebreakers, like a “getting to know your peers” kind of deal. Will hated icebreaker exercises, because not much about him was interesting. Not much that he was legally permitted to share, anyway. And even if he could, he wasn’t sure if he would want to revisit that time in his life, or if he wanted others to know about what he’d been through. He was kind of grateful that his NDAs revoked that decision for him.

Will reached the only empty seat left at his table– karma for his tardiness– and sat down with his group, who was already knee-deep in conversation. The only seat left was between two girls; one of them looked like she could star in a live action anime series, and the other looked like she’d fit right in with a stoner rock band.

A guy with bleach blonde hair noticed Will’s presence and glanced up, a smile spreading across his face. “Aye! A newcomer! Welcome! What’s your name?”

“Uh, Will,” he eloquently said.

The guy stood up, crossing the circle in order to shake Will’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Will! I’m Pete, your group leader, and…” he looked around at everyone else, “Why don’t we all go around the circle to catch Will up?” The girl sitting next to Pete lifted a hand in greeting, starting off the Name Game.

“Hey, I’m Claire Bierker.”

“Ryan Baker.”

“Jackson Boonstra.”

“Ivy Baldwin.”

“Hannah Reid.”

“Wait–” Pete cut Hannah off, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Reid? I have you on here as ‘Beid.’”

“Yeah, um, about that… there might have been a typo on my application, something to do with my terrible handwriting.” The rest of the group laughed at that, including Pete.

“Well… I think you should be fine here. Will, take your seat between Hannah and Ivy, and we can get started on our other activities.” Half an hour went by, and they’d kind of drifted away from the initial Orientation outline that Pete had been working off of. Will was kind of glad that this was the case; if he had to tell one more person about his favorite food, he was gonna riot. Beside him, he felt Ivy nudge his arm with her elbow.

“So. This is gonna be a fucking blast,” she muttered.

“Tell me about it,” Will replied.

“What’s your major?”

“Painting,” he said, “You?”

“Ceramics.”

“Woah, really? That’s so cool!”

“Thanks,” she grinned. Will felt Hannah lightly tap his shoulder with her fingertips, and he turned his head to give her his attention. It hit him that he hadn’t been to a social function since that last high school party he and the Party went to; he wasn’t used to this amount of attention.

“I can’t help but notice your guitar pin on your backpack,” Hannah gestured downward, where Will’s black Jansport backpack sagged onto his shins. “Do you play?”

No. The pin was Mike’s. I might have stolen it from him.

“My… my friend does,” Will hesitated, trying his best not to outwardly cringe at himself. Mike was not his friend. Mike ruined my fucking life. He wrote twenty-six letters to me, confessed his undying love for me out loud, kissed me with an urgence that haunts me every night, and then expected me to just– “I don’t play any instruments. I wish I did. But I love to listen to rock music.”

“What are your favorite bands?” Ivy asked Will, and he hummed in contemplation. He leaned back in his chair, wrapping his feet around the front legs for gravitational support. That way, he could see the two of them without getting whiplash.

“The Cure, Pink Floyd, The Smiths, the Beatles… I also like Bowie and Elton John.”

“Look at you! Hannah, this is my kinda guy!” Ivy exclaimed, smacking Will’s shoulder so hard that he almost fell backwards onto the floor. Hannah saved him, though, pulling him upright again. 

“Let’s not scare him off, now,” Hannah laughed uneasily, and Will shook his head.

“No, you’re not gonna scare me off. This is kind of… nice, actually,” he admitted, folding his hands together in his lap. “Would you guys wanna hang after this snooze fest is over?”

“I’m so down,” Ivy replied instantly, and Hannah agreed not even a second later.

Maybe making new friends wouldn’t be as difficult as he’d imagined.

They ordered a pizza and, in the meantime, headed up to Will’s dorm. He unlocked the door and braced himself for Aaron’s usual disdain, but was pleasantly surprised when his roommate was nowhere to be found. He exhaled, and headed inside, holding the door open for the two girls. Hannah immediately gravitated toward his desk, where his set of dice rested atop the little purple pouch they came in.

“Oh my God, you play D&D?” she gasped.

Will nodded, taking a few steps in her direction. “Yeah, I used to play more often with my friends back home. But… I kind of stopped a few years ago. They all lost interest.” ... ‘Lost interest’ was a fucking understatement.

“Well that’s depressing,” Hannah slumped down onto Will’s comforter, haphazardly splaying her arms out on either side. “Tell you what, though,” she lifted her head to look at him, “My roommate, Kate just so happens to be the the DM of our school’s D&D Club, and she was telling me that they’re gonna be at the activities fair next week. Maybe we can check it out!” 

Wait a minute… Will knew that name. “By any chance was Kate at–”

“The A-E sign in table at Orientation? Yup, that’s her!” she grinned. “She’s a junior. They paired all the freshmen with upperclassmen this year for some reason. Something about mentorship? I dunno,” she sat up and shifted her gaze to Aaron’s side of the room. “Who’s your roommate? He has…” she squinted, reading the titles of the books on Aaron’s desk before widening her eyes in shock. “He has an interesting taste in literature.”

Will could only nod. Meanwhile, he couldn’t help but notice Ivy’s fixation on something on his desk. Maybe she was just admiring the dice, or checking out Will’s pile of books. But as he moved closer, he realized that she was staring at none other than the picture frame. The one and only picture frame Will owned. The one and only picture frame Will owned that just so happened to hold that one photo of– “Who’s this attractive string bean?”– Mike.

“Oh, he’s just a friend,” Will said, and Ivy shot a suspicious look in his direction.

“Looks like you two were close,” she smirked up at him. “Really close.” 

“Were. Past tense,” he repeated back to her firmly. He really didn’t want to dredge up his turbulent… whatever-ship with Mike Wheeler right now. He just wanted to focus on the Here and Now of it all.

“So, Will, are you dating anyone?” Hannah asked, changing the subject. And for that, Will would be eternally grateful. Because even from hundreds of miles away, Mike Wheeler still managed to stress him out.

“No, my love life is kind of dead at the moment,” he shrugged, and Hannah’s eyes lit up.

“Maybe we can find you a cute girl!”

Woah. Will hadn’t been expecting to have to come out so soon, but… there’s a time and a place for everything, and apparently, this was both the time and place, no matter how apprehensive he felt about it.

“Um, about that…” he began, but was cut off by the sound of Ivy’s palm smacking the surface of his desk.

“What did I tell you?!” she exclaimed, her wild eyes meeting Hannah’s. “I called it. I. Fucking. Called. It.” Will was so confused.

“Huh? Called what?” 

“You’re gay, right? You’re into guys?” Ivy asked, and he nodded hesitantly.

“See?!” she screeched suddenly. “I’ve got lesbian intuition!” 

“Guess I don’t have to formally come out, then,” Will chuckled.

“I’m so sorry about her,” Hannah placed a hand on his shoulder, and he shook his head. He took her hand in his, lowering their connected hands off his shoulder and swinging them back and forth between them.

“No, it’s okay, it made things easier for me, I guess. I’m kind of glad I didn’t have to prepare a dramatic speech or anything.”

“Yeah, God, that’s always a pain,” Ivy added. “It’s so stressful running the risk of ruining a friendship or relationship just by being yourself.”

Will knew that experience all too well. “Yes, it’s horrible.” 

“I have a feeling we’re going to be good friends, William Byers,” Ivy smiled, taking both his and Hannah’s free hands so they formed a triangle. “Best friends, even.”

Will’s first class was Painting I with Dr. Miriam Horovitz, located clear on the other side of campus. He knew from the get go that it would take a while for him to figure out where the hell he was going, so he left an hour early, just in case something like this happened. And it did. So when he finally sat on a worn-down stool in front of an empty easel, it felt all the more surreal. He’d made it. To class. But also… he’d made it to art school in Chicago.

Dr. Horovitz was a short, middle-aged southern lady who had the combined fashion sense of a Flower Power protestor and a gothic, medieval witch. Mike would have loved– no. No. Not now. Will needed to focus, specifically on the assignment Dr. Horov– Miriam, as she insisted upon everyone calling her– was explaining.

“So for your first assignment, I want y’all to paint something that brings you joy, but also inflicts immense pain. It could be a feeling, a person, a material object… it’s up to y’all where you want to take your projects. I’m just tryin’ to figure out everyone’s specific styles.”

If Will were given this assignment a year prior, he would have done something related to the Upside Down. But now, as he closed his eyes, his thoughts went awry. Vines, snakes, fire… Mike. Vecna, gouged out eyes, mold… Mike. The rain fight. The Almost Kiss. The neverending flirtation. Prom. The letters. No, Will, I’m in love with you. Don’t say that, please don’t say that, you don’t mean it. Mike’s sobs echoing up the stairwell on his way out.

Well… looks like Mike is gonna be the subject of my first ever project in art school, Will thought, rubbing a hand down his face with a groan. Fuck me.

Will glanced at myself in the mirror, which he currently stood in front of, shirtless. He’d been insecure about his body for years. He had always been more on the skinny side, but then he got tall and skinny, his knees turned into knobs, and his voice dropped— but he kept his baby face. He was a walking contradiction. It didn’t help that his clothes just made him look worse. They were more often than not hand-me-downs from Jonathan, or purchased for a buck each at the thrift store. When Will was younger, he would secretly resent his mom for not being able to afford newer, more flattering clothing. Then, he learned about the concepts of money and divorce, and that resentment never once entered his mind after that. He could never blame his mom for their circumstances, and would never dream of holding their poverty against her, but still. It was embarrassing. Especially when most of his other friends walked around looking like they’d come fresh out of the Starcourt Mall. Thankfully, when he’d moved to California, Will’s shoulders had filled out a little bit, and he could wear most of those clothes without cringing anymore. And after the events of the Upside Down, he spent some of his government hush money on a new wardrobe.

Even then, despite the broader shoulders, newer wardrobe, and a few years’ time, there still wasn’t really much to see, physically speaking; he looked less like a young man, and more like a boy with unbalanced muscle mass and light, barely-there stubble on his jaw. To be fair, he was only five months into being eighteen, and had plenty of time for his body to mature. Working out would probably help quicken the process.

“Alright, man, you ready to go?” Aaron came out of the bathroom rather abruptly, startling Will out of his thoughts. Aaron’s eyes lowered down to Will’s torso, lingering for a few extra seconds before he said, “I’m glad you decided to come with. You definitely need it,” with a light chuckle. Will felt his face burning up with self consciousness as he scrambled to his dresser, throwing on the first shirt he could get his hands on: a plain white Fruit of the Loom tee, the kind that came in a multipack. It was a bit loose on him; his mom had been a bit optimistic when she’d talked him into buying the mediums. 

Will could have easily turned down Aaron’s offer to go to the gym with him. Aaron’s new membership included a promotional perk which gave him the option to invite a second person for free. In turn, once the person paying for the membership had built up enough points, they could redeem said points for a private training session. Aaron, a cup that apparently overfloweth with boundless generosity, offered that guest spot up to Will. Because he was poor. And skinny. And he liked Elton John. That was, like, the trifecta of male incompetence. Will often thought about why Aaron insisted upon coming to the American Academy of Art if he hated gay people so much. He assumed that in order to get on Aaron’s “good” side– whatever the hell that even meant, if it even existed–, he would simply have to play the role of a straight guy, which was what he had been doing for his entire life up until a few months ago, so it wouldn’t be difficult to do.

Will hastily laced his black high top Vans up, tying them a bit too tightly, but he was too intimidated by his roommate’s eyes drilling lasers into his scalp to care. He grabbed his empty drawstring bag, because what do you even bring to a gym, tossed his wallet and keys into it, and followed Aaron out the door. They headed down the hall and descended the stairwell, and Will watched as Aaron’s calf muscles flexed with every step.

“So. How’re you liking the school so far?” Aaron called back to him, and he got confused for a second, because, was he talking to him? “Any interesting classes this semester?” Oh. Okay, so he wasn’t just hearing things.

“Uh… it’s good,” Will replied, quickening his steps to catch up to Aaron, “I really like my painting class. The campus is just kind of confusing to navigate.”

Aaron chuckled at that, holding the door open for him once they reached the dorm hall entryway. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. I must have gotten lost seven or eight times in my first year.”

“Oh, you’re a–”

“Junior. Architecture major.”

Huh. He’d kind of forgotten about the Junior-Freshman pairing system. And it made a lot of sense why Aaron had decided to pursue architecture. It’s the straightest art form there is. They approached the student parking garage, and Aaron fished in his pocket for his keys.

“Oh, nice,” Will said, “what made you choose to go here?”

“They have the best architecture program in the state,” Aaron shrugged. “I’m really into postmodern stuff as well, and most schools don’t really teach that. But they do here.”

When they got into the car, Will had to hold himself back from rolling his eyes into the darkest depths of his skull, because of course it was a Mercedes. Aaron checked his reflection in the rearview mirror before reaching an arm behind Will’s seat, leaning back and looking behind him as he backed out of the parking spot. Will was shocked; Aaron seemed to despise being within two feet of him, and now he had almost come into contact with Will’s shoulder. Were they… making progress? “By the way,” Aaron said once he’d changed gears, “I’m sorry for being such a dick. I think I misjudged you.”

See, now, Will’s kneejerk reaction had always been to cut the person who was apologizing off with a lighthearted, reassuring, “No, it’s okay.” He always felt the need to absolve people of their guilt, but now, that need was seemingly gone, because he let Aaron continue with his apology without interjecting once. And it felt nice to not take on someone else’s burden.

“I just can’t stand all these fucking homos around here, I thought I was stuck living with one.” If he hated homos so much, then what the hell was he doing at the American Academy of Art? What was he expecting? If you hate gay people, don’t go to an exclusive art school. You’re basically asking for your own personal torture chamber, Will thought. But he kept his thoughts to himself, opting to sit there in silence for the rest of the ride. The drama simply wasn’t worth it.

They arrived at the gym, and Aaron headed straight over to the treadmills. “Cardio,” he explained, and Will went along with it, because if it weren’t for Aaron, he would have no clue where to begin. They ran a mile and a half before switching gears and moving to the dumbbells. Aaron handed Will a pair of 2-pounders, just to fuck with him, but then actually taught him how to lift the 5-pounders properly, without tearing muscle. They then moved over to the larger sets of weights, which Aaron loaded onto a bar and taught him how to do a proper barbell hip thrust, which he found to be a strange first exercise to teach someone. He had no idea so much effort went into the form and technique. But Will found myself strangely loving it. He’d have to find time to go on his own time, so he didn’t feel so pressured as he did around Aaron.

Will felt like he was dying as they stood beside the water fountain. He raised his cheap AAoA water bottle to his lips and chugged the lukewarm water as quickly as the dumbass mouthpiece would allow him, which was not much. He messed with it for a few seconds before Aaron grunted out, “Congrats on the new girlfriend, by the way.” Will was so glad he hadn’t unscrewed the top yet, because he damn near dropped the bottle out of pure shock.

“I’m sorry, what?” Will spluttered, and Aaron merely clapped his back with a laugh. “Don’t be shy, Byers, you’re dating Hannah fucking Reid! Own that shit!” Oh, Will was going to kill her. He knew she meant well, but… really?

As soon as he got back onto campus, Will sprinted to the girls’ dorms and up the stairs to Hannah’s room. He knocked, but could hear really loud music playing… was that Zeppelin IV? They’d gotten to that point in their friendship where Hannah, Ivy, and Will would barge into each others’ rooms unannounced, but he apparently never got the memo that anything had changed. 

“Wanna tell me why Aaron goddamn Heathrow thinks we’re–” Will started, but cut himself off at the sight in front of him. Ivy and Hannah pulled away from each other– no, excuse him, Ivy moved from where she’d been straddling a borderline naked Hannah on her bed. Will turned away, shielding his eyes with a screech. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I should have knocked louder– You guys are together?!”

And then it made so much more sense. If Hannah and Will were “dating,” at face value, then she’d be able to be with Ivy. And– in their words, not his– he’d be able to find a “sexy hunk” of his own someday soon. As much as they all hated the idea of a “beard,” arrangement, it was the best possible way for all of them to love who they wanted to love. That conversation ended with happy tears, hugs, and hope.

Will’s sketch of Mike was coming together nicely. He’d been meticulously planning it out for the past week on smaller sheets of paper, and had finally transferred it to a giant canvas. He shifted his hand from side to side across the canvas to darken and further emphasize Mike’s prominent jawline. It was insane how drastic and how quickly that transformation had happened; it was so hard to believe now that Mike had ever been bullied for his looks. If only their bullies could see what Frog Face looked like now. He was convinced that if someone were to put a piece of glass within three inches of Mike’s insanely sharp bone structure, the glass would split in two. Will smirked at the thought and glanced down at his pencils, which he’d lined up neatly on his right hand side in order of lightest to darkest. He was about to decide which one to use for shading his cheekbones when he heard a familiar, strong Southern drawl from behind him.

“And who is this handsome young fella?” Dr. Horovitz asked him, and he felt his body deflate a little bit. She wasn’t wrong. Mike’s attractiveness was undeniable. Using Mike as his muse for the past thirteen years definitely helped in portraying his beauty. Even then, Will didn’t want to entertain that idea any longer than he had to, so he downplayed it.

“Oh, just this guy from back home,” he said, refusing to meet her eyes, which he just knew were overflowing with curiosity, given the silence that followed. “He’s not important now,” he added, just to make a point. And that was the truth. Mike wasn’t important. He wasn’t… as important. Not as important as how Will made him out to be throughout his childhood, sitting high on a pedestal. Dear Will, when I look into your eyes, I see the rest of my–

“I notice there’s a bite to the way you talk about him,” his professor noted, and he turned to try and meet her gaze, but she was observing his work thus far. “If he isn’t important now, as you say, he must have been important in the past.”

Who even was this lady? She was the professor of his painting class, yet she was reading him like a therapist would. And Will knew by the slight insistence laced in her voice and the way she’d parked herself next to his station that she wasn’t going away until she’d gotten some answers.

“He and I didn’t leave things on the best terms when we left for school,” Will admitted, and Dr. Horovitz nodded, processing. He turned away to take a sip from his water bottle as she spoke.

“Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. So he’s an ex boyfriend, then?” 

He nearly spit out his water. “God, no,” he said, feeling heat rise to his face at lightning speed. “He… uh, he’s– he was my best friend. Mike.” 

“Mm. Best Friend Mike,” she crossed her arms in thought. Suddenly, her eyes snapped over to Will’s, the eye contact sending chills down his spine. He worried about what she would try to pry out of him next. “He broke your heart, didn’t he?”

Well, shit. She’d been able to see right through him. Maybe he wasn’t as good of a liar as he thought he was. So much for being vague.

“Yeah,” Will confessed slowly, watching a smile spread across his professor’s face. Sadist! “Yeah, he did break my heart. And he really messed with my head. But even now, I still believe he’s the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“Well, you’ve covered the topic of the assignment quite well,” she told him, taking a step backwards. “I’m looking forward to seeing your progress.” 

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Will, I told all of you on the first day of class, call me Miriam. None of that old lady business.” 

“Sorry, Miriam.” 

“You’re forgiven.”

He watched Miriam walk away and begin talking to one of the other students in his class about their piece, and he tried to focus back on his work. But Miriam had gotten him thinking. She had gotten him thinking about one specific day. The day where Mike finally confronted him about the painting.

“Hey, can we talk about something for a second?” Mike asked from across his basement couch. Will set his pencil and sketchbook down. Mike had insisted upon being a model for Will’s potential college portfolio. He didn’t even know if he’d be going to art school at all, but Mike was so sure that he’d get in somewhere “really fuckin’ cool.” Mike shifted his body out of the position he’d been in for the past hour, and Will heard Mike’s joints crack as he stretched his long legs out onto his lap. Don’t get a boner, Byers, Will thought to himself, repeating it like a mantra in his head.

“Sure,” Will croaked out, his voice rough from lack of use. “Uh, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Mike said, “I was talking with El yesterday, and I mentioned the commission she’d given you for the painting.” Oh shit. “You know, the one from Spring Break.”

Will gulped. “Yeah?”

“It’s kind of funny, actually,” Mike continued, “because El said she had no idea what the word ‘commission’ even meant. Do you know anything about that?”

“I’m not following,” Will blurted out in a sad attempt to preserve his own feelings, but Mike knew that he’d never been capable of keeping secrets from him. 

“Come on, Will. I know you know what I mean.” He gave Will a pointed look and pulled his legs in before scooching closer to his side of the couch, crossing his legs. Their knees touched, and Will felt like he was on fire.

He knew then that he’d been caught red-handed. “I was trying to–”

“What, lie to me?” Mike cut Will off as he stared down at the carpeted floor. “I thought we didn’t do that.”

“I told you what you needed to hear,” Will said, and Mike crossed his arms.

“Yeah, so you lied.”

“I didn’t want to lie, Mike!”

“But you did, Will, and that’s–”

“Just listen, alright?!” Will raised his voice, startling Mike into silence. He hated doing that, but it was the only way he’d listen to what Will had to say. “Hear me out, okay?” Mike’s lips formed a straight, thin line as he nodded. “I just… I thought if the painting came from El, you’d feel needed again. Like, you told me you felt worthless to her, so I did what I could to try and… fix… that.” Suddenly, Mike’s face was inches from his own, and Will could barely breathe. It was probably just his imagination, but he could have sworn he saw Mike’s eyes flicker down to his lips, then back up to meet Will again.

“You know,” Mike breathed, blinking slowly, “It would have meant a lot more if you’d admitted that the painting was from you.”

“Oh,” was the only word Will was able to get out.

“Yeah,” Mike said, voice smooth as velvet, “You’re my person, Will.”

“Hey, Will! We– woah.” he hadn’t noticed he’d spaced out until Ivy’s voice hit his ears. He turned to see both her and Hannah gaping at his work.

“Oh! Hey!” Will smiled, trying to keep the tone light, “I wasn’t expecting you guys to be–”

“Is that the guy from that photo in your room?” Hannah asked.

“Well… yes,” Will admitted, “but he’s not–” 

“Bullshit,” Ivy interrupted, her eyes narrowed. “Bullshit to everything you’ve said and are about to say. You’re going to tell us about this boy.”

“Fine. Can I at least wash the paint off my hands first?”

The D&D Club had a bi-weekly movie night, where they would all go to Kate’s house in their pajamas and eat enough snacks to feed a small army. Both Kate and Will’s favorite candy was Reese’s Pieces, so there was always an overabundance of them in her pantry. Will shoved his hand into a bag he had rested between his legs, throwing a handful back as if they were a shot of hard liquor. The credits of CLUE were rolling, and Kate spun around from where she sat on the floor wrapped in a giant quilt. She clapped loudly to get everyone’s full, undivided attention.

“Okay, so. What are we thinking for Halloween?”

Crickets.

“We need a group costume for the party in two weeks, obviously!” Kate exclaimed, as if this were supposed to be common knowledge. Will didn’t think Halloween was a thing anymore. It certainly wasn’t a thing when he was still in Hawkins. “We need one that fits a group of five.”

“We should all be Ghostbusters!” Pete said, but Ivy immediately shot that idea down.

“Too clunky. Plus, the proton packs are gonna be a bitch to make, not to mention difficult to lug around everywhere.”

“She’s right,” Will found himself saying, and felt all of his friends’ eyes on him, expecting him to explain himself.

“You’ve dressed as a Ghostbuster before?”

“Yeah,” Will nodded, “Back in middle school. My friends and I made proton packs out of vacuum tubes attached to these huge plastic boxes with straps.”

“That’s badass!”

“Well, yeah,” Kate shrugged nonchalantly, “But that also cancels out that option, since Will has done it already.”

“If we take into account every costume everyone has ever done, then there will be no options left,” Pete pointed out, and Kate grimaced.

“That’s fair.”

“What if we did Marvel characters?” Hannah asked, and Will shook his head.

“That would put us in the same situation as the Ghostbusters, it’s too complex.”

“Hey, guys.”

“Fine, well, what if we did the Beatles?”

“There are four Beatles, Pete.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Guys.”

“What about Yoko?”

“Please don’t tell me you just suggested Yoko is the fifth Beatle, Pete.”

“Is she not???”

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just ask that.”

“Mötley Crüe?”

“The Runaways,” Pete grinned. “Will and I could go in drag, it’d be so hot.”

Hannah’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why are we suddenly so focused on bands?”

“I don’t know, do you have any doable ideas?” Pete retorted.

“Hey assholes!” Kate snapped.

“What?!” they all shouted back.

“We should be the Mystery Gang.”

“As in Scooby Doo?” Will thought out loud.

“That’s a really good idea, actually,” Pete nodded slowly. “It’s classic, people will know who we are, and they won’t perceive us as total rejects!”

“I want to be Velma,” Ivy announced.

“That makes one of us,” Hannah snorted.

“Hey! I’d be a hot Velma!”

“I won’t deny that.”

“I guess I’ll be Fred,” Pete said.

“Will has got to be Shaggy,” Kate giggled, reaching her arm out far enough to run her fingers through and mess up Will’s hair. “I mean, his hair is perfect for it.”

“Yes, oh my God–”

“He’d be the buffest Shaggy I’ve ever seen,” Ivy said, and Will whipped his head in her direction.

“Buff? What do you mean, buff?”

“Will, have you seen yourself lately?” Hannah gawked. He had no idea what she meant.

“I mean, yeah, I go to the gym pretty frequently, but like, it’s not like I’ve changed that much…”

“Will, honey,” Ivy sauntered over to where Will sat, and crouched down until they were eye level. “We all know that I only have eyes for women, and even I can admit that you are smoking hot.”

“I concur,” Pete said.

“Seriously,” Kate exclaimed, “why hasn’t Will linked up with anyone yet?”

“Okay,” Will tried to kill the tangent before it grew legs and ran away, “let’s not discuss my nonexistent love life–”

“Um, excuse me– it did, in fact, exist,” Hannah quipped back. “You just prioritized yourself over someone who treated you like shit.”

“Amen to that,” Ivy said, and everyone else laughed in agreement.

“So I’m gonna ask again: why hasn’t Buff Byers found himself a man yet?”

“Buff Byers,” Pete snorted, “that’s fucking brilliant.”

Will put his face in his hands. “Jesus Christ.”

“Let’s be a little more realistic, because I’m pretty sure Jesus wasn’t into guys,” Hannah said, earning a sad laugh from Will.

“Are you sure about that?” Ivy questioned her girlfriend, “Because his suspiciously close bond with twelve men shows us otherwise–”

“This is not the time to delve into biblical theology, baby.”

“He let Judas kiss his cheek! You cannot tell me he wasn’t at least a little bit gay.”

Okay, that was enough. “Guys, really,” Will insisted, “I’m fine. I don’t need to date anyone right now.”

Pete quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t need to? Or you don’t want to?”

“Alright, everyone,” Kate called out to the rest of them, “so we’ve established that we’re going to this party as the Scooby Gang. But I have a plan in mind that’ll make this Halloween a night to remember.”

“Which is?” Will asked warily. Kate couldn’t hide her devilish grin.

“Operation Get Will a Fine-Ass Man.”

Will was sure that going to this off-campus Halloween party wasn’t the brightest idea he’d ever had. It wasn’t solely his idea, per se; everyone had decided upon their group costume weeks ago, and Will was fully aware of the environment he was voluntarily entering, so he had plenty of time to back out if he wanted to. Even then, Will didn’t back out, because he was obviously a new man; outgoing, social, and bold. He no longer allowed his crippling anxiety to interfere with his life. The latter statement would probably be a bit difficult to justify, though, considering the fact that he had soaked through his fluorescent, vomit-green tee shirt with sweat the second he’d walked through the door. It also didn’t help that his friends were still dead set on a singular mission for the evening: Operation Get Will a Fine-Ass Man. This was a bad idea. A really, really bad–

“Ooh, I spy with my little eye… Jose Cuervo! Come on!” Ivy exclaimed, the corners of her eyes crinkling with joy underneath her fake glasses as she grinned up at Will. Oh God, here we go, he thought as he followed his friend over to the center island in the kitchen. Every square inch of counter space was occupied by some form of hard liquor. This was not Will’s first rodeo; he’d gone to a handful of parties back in high school. He enjoyed the atmosphere, but he just wasn’t a party animal, for the lack of a better term.

“Alrighty, one for you… and two for me,” Ivy muttered as she poured her favorite vice, Jose Cuervo tequila, into three disposable red Solo-brand shot cups before handing one over to Will, and he took the cup hesitantly. She then grabbed two lime wedges out of a bowl on the kitchen counter, and located a salt shaker a few seconds later. She turned to him, grabbed his free hand, rubbed the lime on it, shook some salt over the spot so it would stick, then did the same for herself. She held one of her shot cups up to Will’s, clinking them together as a toast.

“Fuck Mike Wheeler!” she shrieked, and Will burst out laughing. While he calmed myself down, Ivy licked the salt off her hand, threw the shot back like it was water, chomped down onto the lime, and cringed at the taste. Once she’d opened her eyes and seen that he hadn’t done his shot with her, she pouted up at him.

“You’re supposed to actually do the shot, not just stand there,” she whined. Will looked down at the shot, squinting at it before lifting it up, bringing it to his lips. Before he could properly throw the shot back on his own, Ivy tilted the bottom of the cup further upwards, and he felt the tequila rush down his throat much faster than anticipated. “That’s how you do a shot, Billiam,” she told Will as he sputtered out a cough, followed by an indignant grunt. He wasn’t mad; he probably wouldn’t have done it without her involvement.

“For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been so incredibly selfless. You’d do anything to make people happy. But sometimes you do it at your own expense.” Not the time, Mike.

He and Ivy had stayed a few hours late in Miriam’s classroom to finish up their pieces, so they’d all agreed to just meet at the party. When Will had set his brush down for the last time earlier that afternoon, he thought to himself, “Hey, I’ve finally achieved the closure I’ve always wanted, so I should feel better.” But Will didn’t feel any different; if anything, he felt even worse than before. The Heart gave him closure, but he still felt like Mike was there. So when he arrived back at his dorm to change into his costume, he glanced at the bunched-up blue sweatshirt on his bed and made a decision: It was time to pack up the Mike Box again. Will put everything (the dice, the frame, the sweatshirt, and the binder) back into a box and under his bed. Out of sight, out of mind. 

“Shaggy! Velma! You made it!” voices exclaimed from behind him. Hannah, Kate, and Pete approached them, dressed as Daphne, Scooby, and Fred, respectively. A smile quickly made its way across Will’s face as he collided with his friends in a group hug. Once they all pulled back, the gossip was instantly afoot.

“So, any luck yet?” Ivy asked her girlfriend, who shook her head.

“Not yet, we just got here a little while ago.”

“I’ve seen a few potential candidates who I think he’d get along with–” Kate began, but Pete interrupted with an expression of pure confusion.

“Sorry, what’s going on?”

“Operation Get Will a Fine-Ass Man! Come on, Pete, get with the program!” Kate clapped her hands in the middle of the circle, and the rest of them laughed while Will rolled his eyes. They were being absolutely ridiculous. Will didn’t need to get any man, let alone a fine-ass one. He was perfectly fine with being alone. Totally content, and not at all depressed.

The song that had been playing faded out, and a familiar bouncy synth introduction to the next song vibrated up from the floor and sent shockwaves through Will’s entire nervous system. Kate demanded immediately that the group should dance, and the rest of the Scooby Gang agreed, save for Will. He didn’t do well on dance floors, because his claustrophobia often got the best of him. So he stood against the wall, watching as his friends disappeared into the crowd. The beat picked up, and he sighed deeply, crossing his arms over his chest. This was the radio cut. If Mike were there, he probably would have complained for hours afterwards.

“Will. I’m being serious! If you know about the existence of the 12” version of Smalltown Boy and still opt to listen to the radio cut, you’re committing a crime against both me and Bronski Beat. I said what I said. No further questions.”

Will hated that he couldn’t tell Mike how, for once, he actually agreed with him. He wasn’t here with Will, and it was all his fault.

Will checked his watch– 8:26pm. They’d only been there for less than half an hour, and he already wanted to go home. There were enough people packed in the house for it to be considered a fire hazard, and his friends were nowhere to be found. So much for Operation Get Will a Fine-Ass Man. Besides, he was dressed as Shaggy from fucking Scooby Doo, there was no way any guy would want him while looking like a disheveled cartoon character. He decided to go outside to get some fresh air, and maybe smoke a cigarette… or five, but right when he began to move, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Kate and Ivy, standing on either side of a guy with spiky black hair and chunky black liner under his eyes. The only defining elements of his vampire costume were the fake blood dripping from the corners of his painted red lips and the cape draped over his shoulders.

“Will, Matt. Matt, Will. Speak,” Ivy rushed out, pushing them together by their backs. Will watched, stunned, as his friends pushed their way through the crowd, giggling the entire time. He then shifted his gaze to meet eyes with… the very hot guy who stood before him.

Matt.

-

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anti Nancy, like srsly

You're still here? Okay, but srsly this is very against Nancy wheeler, if you're still here I'm guessing you don't like her? If you do, it's very against her, my mind will not be changed jsyk. Just a warning bc of comments on my other anti post lol 🙃

Also before anyone says anything about me just not liking her because she gets in the way of my ship, I actually hate stdie and Hrringrve. Plus I don't like a lot of the characters storylines, Nancy's is just one that frustrates me the most.

Actual Anti Nancy post starting now

This basically started out as a convo between me and @felineincognito in the comments of one of my other anti Nancy posts but this is kinda a continuation of that ig.

Also I'm not gonna talk about the stuff the other characters have done wrong bc this isn't abt them, and just because other people have done bad stuff doesn't cancel out the stuff she's done🤪.

So in the first episode I didn't really like her that much, but yk, the whole point was that she wasnt acting like herself. So, I figured that as the season went on she would grow and start being more herself, and I guess she did change to an extent. But then s2 happened and she was just being a bad gf to Steve, let's be so fr, she was emotionally cheating on him. Pining for Jonathon while lying to Steve about who she's in love with is not okay. This was around when I started to reallyyy not like her. And she just didn't take accountability for her part in the failed relationship. Then s3 rolled around(my favv season frrr) and Nancy still hasn't grown, she still doesn't take accountability for her mistakes. And she was exactly the same in s4.

Okay let's break this down by season

S1- Nancy is dating Steve. Will goes missing and Nancy is incredibly annoyed because she can't see Steve and complains, she's does not care about will. She lies to her mother and goes to see Steve. She treats Barb like shit at the party, Barb goes missing, Nancy suddenly cares about will and is upset that no one will listen to her. She finds out about the pictures and goes to ask Jonathan about the demogorgan picture, they go hunting. They argue, and eventually Jon and Steve get in the fight. At the police station Nancy starts catching feelings for Jon and is told that he is in love with her. After the whole salt bath ordeal her and Jon go to his house to try and catch it, Steve shows up trying to apologize, they tell him to leave. Steve comes back to help, Nancy, Steve, and jon kill the demogorgan. Nancy's guns are not useful in this feat ( @thegreenmeadow had a great post about this here). A few months later and Nancy gives Jon a camera that Steve bought, she is back together with Steve after waiting for Jonathon for a month because he wasn't ready.

S2- Nancy is dating Steve again, but crushing on Jonathan, this is emotional cheating especially because she later goes to jon for comfort rather than talking it out with Steve. Nancy and Steve go to barbs parents house, Nancy is struggling with guilt and wants to tell barbs parents what really happened. Steve and Nancy get into a small argument, Steve convinces Nancy not to break the NDA and to go to a party and try to relax. They go to the party and Nancy gets extremely drunk, she calls Steve bullshit and yells at him. (Presumed break up but that's debatable) Jon takes Nancy home, the next morning Nancy doesn't remember the night before and she gets upset at Steve for not picking her up. Steve and Nancy get into an argument (this is kinda why I think they didn't really break up otherwise she wouldn't have cared about him not picking her up). Nancy leaves school with Jon to try and tell barbs parents, they go to the lab and get a recording. After they get the recording they go to see Murray. After figuring out the story, they sit down to have a drink. After deciding to spend the night, Murray tells them to just sleep together. Both Nancy and Jon acknowledge Steve in a way that makes it seem like they haven't broken up/Nancy still has feelings. They go back to Hawkins and Nancy has a talk with steve, he apologizes for being a bad boyfriend and tells Nancy to go with Jon to save will. Nancy doesn't acknowledge her part in the relationship failing. She goes with jon, they get the mindflayer out of will, Nancy did not need to be there for this. At the snoball her and Jon are helping out, they smile at each other from across the room and are now dating.

S3- Nancy and Jon have been dating for a while and are currently interning at the Hawkins post. Nancy is upset about the other office workers being misogynistic and treating her poorly, she complains to Jonathan. One night while Nancy is cleaning the office she receives a call about some rats from mrs. Driscoll, she decides to pursue this herself the next day. She lies to her boss and barges in on Jonathan developing the photos, ruining whatever he was developing. Jon follows her out to the car and talks about how he's concerned about getting fired and thinks it's not a good idea. Nancy disregards his concerns and insists she's correct. They go to Mrs. Driscoll's house and find the rat. The next day Nancy brings up her case to her bosses, she is declined and told to stop pursuing the case. Nancy insists shes correct and again, barges in on Jonathan ruining his photos. Jon thinks it's a bad idea, she just says that she's going anyway, Jon reluctantly joins her. Jon again expresses concerns about losing his job, Nancy dismisses these concerns yet again. As they arrive at Mrs. Driscoll's house they find her having a seizure, the hospital is called. The next day Nancy and Jon lose their jobs. As Jon is driving them home, Nancy keeps talking about how she was correct and thinks tom is on drugs, Jon gets annoyed with her and says she should stop. Nancy compares him to the misogynistic newspaper managers, and calls him being upset because he needs his job the Oliver twist routine. Nancy gets a pep talk from her mom, and goes to the hospital. She finds mrs.driscoll having another seizure. The next morning she calls Jon about it. The kids meet up with Nancy and Jon, they discuss what's been going on, Nancy is passive aggressive towards Jon. They go to the hospital, Nancy half apologizes and Jon admits he was wrong about the rats, Nancy makes a comment about never doubting her again(imo this cancels out the apology). They fight the fleshflayer thingie. And go to the mall to try and save the scoops troop. Nancy makes a comment towards robin, that was later clearly written to be jealousy. They all fight the fleshflayer and stuff. Later we cut to Nancy and Jonathon having a talk, they're in love Jon moves away.

S4- Nancy is working at Hawkins post, her colleague Fred and her are discussing a spread, she is irritated with fred. After Chrissy dies, Nancy takes Fred to go report the story, she's irritated with fred. She lies to the police officer to get into the park, she then proceeds to go to every door and ask them questions. She then proceeds to talk to wayne Munson, pursuing her story. After speaking with him, she can't find fred, she goes around searching for him. The next morning we see her getting questioned by the police, she sees Steve's car and realizes something more is going on. Later, the gang is explaining vecna to her at the picnic table. As they all get ready to go to the school, Nancy starts to leave on her own. Robin goes with Nancy, they arrive at the library and Robin is talking through her thoughts and Nancy is extremely annoyed with her. Robin asks if she comes off as rude or condescending, Nancy says no. Robin proceeds to explain that she has trouble with social cues and filters. They go into the archives and begin searching. Robin clarifies that her relationship with Steve is purely platonic, Nancy gets more annoyed with her. Robin then finds the weekly watcher, they find out that Victor thought it was a demon. Nancy receives all the credit for this discovery. After the Mac has her first vision, Nancy and Robin proceed to come up with a plan to talk to Victor Creel. Nancy tells Robin to change clothes, they go to pennhurst. Robin ends up being the one to get them to see Victor, and figure out the music. They radio Dustin and tell him about the music. Nancy is the one to piece together Max's drawing. They proceed to go to the old creel house, Nancy helps Steve clean his hair. When they go through Watergate, Nancy helps to beat up the bats and fix Steve's wound. Nancy finds out the upside down is stuck on the day will went missing. Yadda yadda the finale happens jncy reunites, Steve confesses blah blah.(I'm sorry I got really tired just go watch if you care enough)

So um ion even remember where I was going with this but go check out the stuff @felineincognito said in the comments here because that was some great stuff. My point is that Nancy hasn't shown much growth, constantly screws up and makes things worse, is regularly rude, doesn't really do much for the plot itself, treats people poorly, expects everything and everyone to do everything for her, and yet is constantly treated as though she can do no wrong.

Also this isn't really a TV show thing, more of a fanbase thing. But if a character is just there to be a strong female women with no actual plot or arc, then she is not really a good character. I don't dislike Nancy because she is a woman, I dislike her because of how she has been written.

Nancy Stans who have made it this far, congrats! If you wanna shit on me or my takes, that's cool, but don't do it here, go to your own space with screenshots and/or copy and paste. Don't waste time harassing me, it doesn't hurt anyone if I don't like your favorite character, I'm not harassing you, I'm in my own space expressing my opinion. Please just scroll if you don't agree, this post is not for you. If you are really that pressed about anti Nancy takes, you can always block me or the tag. Please and thank you.

Love you all!

[berenwrites]

Lost Boys - Stranger Things Musings

Saw someone (my apologies, I cannot remember who) post about a Lost Boys AU with Stranger Things characters, and that got me thinking. How about a Lost Boys/Stranger Things crossover?!

The Lost Boys came out in 87, so let's just go with that's the year it's set. So a year and a bit after the debacle of Hawkins Spring 86, everyone from s4 is alive (yes including Eddie) and recovered, Vecna is no more, and Steve cooks ups the wild idea of getting the hell out of dodge for a summer vacation, all the kids, him, Eddie, Robin, Argyle, Jonathan and Nancy.

They're end destination is a couple of days in Disneyland in California, but they have decided to drive having rented 2 RVs to see lots of fun places on the way. Unfortunately, they get stuck in Santa Carla when one of the RVs breaks down.

Cue Eddie and Steve bumping into some decidedly weird dudes (David and the gang) on the boardwalk where everyone has gone to blow off some steam as they wait for the RV to be repaired. Maybe having been brought back from the dead after the Upside Down, Eddie pings on their radar, so they are interested.

Something, something, Steve ends up half vamped like Michael. Sue me, if I can torture Steve, I will 😝.

All the Hawkins lot are like, "Vampires - seriously?!" And join forces with the Santa Carla crowd. Sam is gonna love Max and Lucas, and Dustin and Mike would so go toe to toe with the Frog Brothers over vampire lore, not to mention the brains Erica will bring to the table! Jon and Argyle will probably miss most of it, having started talking weed with the Frog's parents. Nancy will be all over figuring out who the head vampire is. And Eddie and Robin will be worrying about Steve, who is trying very hard not to bite people and commiserating about doomed love with Michael (the fact he got Eddie back being a ray of hope in the shit storm).

And oh, boy, is the head vampire in for a shock when he comes up against El and a bunch of teens who are so done with this life or death shit.

I mean, there's also the option of Grandpa being so weird because he was into shady government stuff in his earlier life and doesn't even bat an eye at a girl who can move stuff with her mind.

I will probably never write this, but it is now stuck in my brain, so I thought I would share my pain.

[nightsidewrestling]

D.U.D.E: Moments - Part 2 - Eddie's P.O.V at the café (Set in 2020)

Tags: @piratewithvigor@tantamount-treason@thedollmaker16@janetreader

This takes place when Eddie meets Kirby at the café in part 1

Also, Kirby is still Orange. Italics are inner thoughts.

Eddie's P.O.V:

"I… Mox said I should apologise for pissing you off earlier." Eddie mutters, it's a lie but he has the confidence to act like it isn't.

"Apology is not required. I'm busy." Kirby grumbles, her eyes fixed on her laptop.

"Then…" He tries to think up a good reason to stay in the café, "lemme buy you lunch to say sorry and to avoid me gaining an enemy."

"Sure, you can sit with me too, just don't annoy me further, Mister?"

Oh, she doesn't know my name, "Eddie. Kingston. You don't have to bother with any formalities or fancy words."

"Alright then, Eddie, no gimmicks as we're in public, right?"

No gimmicks, so you actually want to know me, Eddie Moore, and not Eddie Kingston? Alright then, "I'm Eddie Moore. Friends call me Eddie, Ma calls me Edward and enemies call me Asshole." He gives her a soft smile when she looks at him.

He takes the opportunity to further take in her looks, beautiful, out of my fuckin' league. Sandy blonde hair which ends in an amber ponytail, which she keeps tied low. Thin eyebrows that have definitely been filled in with a brow pencil, but not overdone, and dark blue eyes, blue eyes like pools I could drown myself in. A few small scars on her otherwise perfect nose, perfect for a wrestler, no signs of previous breaks. Her lips look kissable, I could see myself makin' out wit' her for hours. Her pale skin marked with the scars from many years in the ring. I hope she knows how fuckin' pretty she is. He clears his throat and speaks before his brain can make him back out of the situation.

"So, what's ya name? I heard ya friend call ya 'Kirby'."

"I'm Kirby Rhydderch, or to the audience, Kirby Lucifarian."

Oh Jeez, that's a very hard surname to say, how do you pronounce that, "Rid…" fuck, don't think out loud, idiot, make small talk, keep her attention, "where ya from?"

"Llanfaethlu, Anglesey… Wales."

That's why her surname's impossible to say, she's Welsh. Are all Welsh women this pretty? Focus, Eddie, "Oh, you're that Welsh girl that Mox was talking about, the female Andre." Shit, don't tell her that, thanks Jon, gonna get me in trouble with a hot chick, again.

"He calls me that?" From her tone of voice alone, he can tell that the comparison annoys her.

"Better female Andre than female Doink, right?" I'm sorry, don't hate me, hate Jon, he came up with the female Andre thing.

Kirby chuckles softly, shaking her head and looking at him, "Can I get you a coffee or something?"

Oh you can get me somethin' hot stuff, ya number. Focus Eddie! "Nah, I'm buying, whatever you want."

He listens to her order, repeating it in his head as he gets up to buy it for her. after buying her stuff, he tries his hardest not to stare at her, but she's all he can think about.

She's tall, no duh Eddie she's a giant. She's quiet but fuckin' strong, she's a wrestler of course she looks strong. Does she smoke, probably not but Ma would like that about her. Ma would like a lot about her, we can't introduce her to our Motha we don't know if she's even single and I ain't makin' her go anywhere near dad not a pretty girl like that. She's gotta have a boyfriend, or girlfriend it's 2020 she could be gay, God please tell me she likes me.

He grabs the drinks and heads back to the table, trying to maintain his confident front., "No luck on the food, sorry."

"Well, beggars can't be choosers or so they say." She shrugs.

Her mind's drifted somewhere, she's managed to shrink herself down more, I hope I ain't makin' her afraid of me. Wow, she's got a nice sticker collection all over the back of her computer, "That's a lot of stickers."

“I collect them, I travel a lot because as you know wrestling takes you to a lot of places and I need this for work and private stuff so it comes with me and thus it’s gained… personality, for lack of a better explanation.”

"Gotcha," he nods, "it's got a life of it's own, so you add stickers to make it look like it." He smiles softly as he sits across from her.

[timjohns3rd]

:/

Sigh...you visit my dreams way too much..which opens up my self inflicted wounds.. First I dont want you think Im playing a victim as i know Im not...I deserve everything that I get....and Im posting this to let it get to you this time...cause for myself I need to to get things out and not hold it in..and I guess its for me to say good bye too.. you are right what I did was unforgiveable... I shouldnt have let Angie manipulate me, nor say some stuff (other stuff they still found on their own like IG and then cornered me with it).. As much as I wanted a family...it was 100% wrong.  know that I never once have lied to you..except trying to hide a gift or something.  You were my best friend...greater than any I have had...even to the point it made some friends jealous.. there were times yes I wanted to be with you...and even had that dangled or held over me by others...but more than not..I was afraid of losing the friendship...THAT I wanted to keep no matter what and would never have traded it for anything even being with you...the whole stuff with Tim did 100% take its toll on me mentally even to the point where he ruined vacations etc... like I said...I didnt know Jon...and it didnt seem like at first he wanted to know me or like me..I misjudged him a ton...which I why i I snapped in Ohio..with how they were treating him, you, nikki, and I...and I realized how much I was used some... I should have been stronger before hand...but I got to know him and regretted it... I did badly want to tell you...and wanted to bring it up many times...but again that fear of losing you as my best friend was so strong...I am sorry to Jon for thinking he was going to be another Tim..and misunderstanding some of the lifestyle and I know I can never make it up to him..I was trying by trying to get closer...but deep down...it made my guilt worse..hence why I pushed away some too from both of you... I am sorry for letting my mental health get so out of control and into break downs to do things bad before...and before the friendship ended...I was and still have afraid to deal with it...but I am doing it harder...at least the way a former friend would want me...its rough...and I have to visit old wounds but i am doing it... Daryl is going to contact you at some point to get the grids from you...he will contact you on his own...and when he gets them, he will be without me I want to thank you for everything you ever did for me (and when the settlement gets finalized...I will be paying you back the money I owe you too)...  without you I wouldnt have ever enjoyed getting lost in the woods, I would have never flew, never been to vegas (and even then I tried to respect the Tim relationship), never would i have visited another country or a cruise, tattoo, learn to enjoy life, learn to love again and try dating so many times, you helped me at my lowest.. you were my rainbow to smile...you were worth working hard for the friendship...I know you cant ever forgive me right now..if ever...and I accept and understand that...I hurt you...and i can never forgive myself..I offer my sincere apologies on everything I hold dear...including my mother... and here I say....Goodbye Karen...I too wish you all the best in your life...and hope you get everything you ever want...I just dont want the dark cloud I caused to be something to shadow you forever...and you can heal from my hurt and betrayal...I know my your door to me is closed and nailed shut...but mine to you will forever be unlocked if you ever need it... but please keep doing the best you are  in life...I know as my best friend...I truly did care and love you...you have made changes in someone so much that helped them more than you know... Goodbye Karen 

[clarionglass]

(hngk apologies to anyone who saw the first, half-finished version of this! ctrl+enter instead of shift+enter gets me again goddammit)

okay so this has got a Lot more traction than i was expecting!! i’m going to drop a tag list so nobody who reblogged or replied gets missed (and if i did miss you, my biggest apologies and please let me know): @belladonnafey​ @mr-veils​ @awellboiledicicle​ @esteemed-excellency​ @insubstantialways​ @i-looktothe-stars​ @bizarrebazaar13​ @completely-real-and-normal-human hello!! i love you all!! please imagine i am giving you a gentle kiss on the forehead!! all of you. simultaneously. wherever you are. through the red science all things are possible

so! some of you may have seen my previous post about tma/fl crossover stuff.... and i am updating that slightly. before i was superimposing the tma framework onto the neath setting, but i have now decided that that should be more of a two-way street, and indeed the neath setting changes everything from the surface, so why should it not change this as well? without further ado, let me present:

the characters There wasn't even a proper note left behind when Gertrude Robinson disappeared. Just a scramble of papers: charts, maps, and letters in ciphers her young protegee had no hope of breaking. But the maps, ah. The maps were useful. They all pointed down. And so he had followed, and in following, had lost almost everything of himself he could remember.

jon: watchful main. he’s just entered the neath (pov character = player character, right?). suffering from neath-typical memory fog around his surface life, is very confused about his new surroundings, and is angy about both of these things. what he does know is why he’s here: chasing gertrude robinson, his former employer, who mysteriously vanished. look as soon as cha boi finds out about the correspondence and the discordance he’s gonna throw himself into that So Hard, but for now he has to work his way through the tier 0, 1, and 2 professions and like. actually do some detective legwork. there will of course be no negative consequences to this course of action.

martin (the melancholy poet): persuasive main. minor poet. been down in the neath for a while, probably to get away from his shocking home life on the surface. potentially tied to the bohemians?

tim (title tbc): persuasive main. author. high zeefaring. researcher at benthic. has an incident in his past relating to a snuffer wearing his brother’s face.

sasha (title tbc): shadowy main (change from the original post!). also a researcher at benthic with tim. has explored the forgotten quarter, distrusts anything irrigo. former urchin, now a longshanks.

melanie (title tbc): dangerous main. revolutionary (of course). this relates to a thing further down but if the judgements have eye tendencies.... juicy.

daisy (title tbc): dangerous main. monster hunter for the department of menace eradication. tied to the constables.

basira (the stoic constable): watchful main. constable (ofc). member of the dilmun club, with the implacable detective as a sponsor.

gertrude: whatever she ostensibly was on the surface, it pales in comparison to the fact that she’s a major player in the great game, and is a member of the calendar council.

elias (title tbc, but he’ll be a his amused lordship standin): the founder of the dilmun club. a player of the marvellous. his body looks young but his eyes are old. somehow manages to become jon’s patron.

the title thing is because it is crucially important to me that these characters are referred to by fallen london titles before jon gets to know them well enough to know their actual names! i’m having a strug with some of these so any input will be gratefully received :)

i was going to put the fears in here but this is already massively long so hold onto your hats for part 2, coming soon to a dashboard near you

enjoyers of both tma and fallen london i know you're out there

i'm having ideas about this crossover again and i want to Chat

[butiknowiloatheyou]

I use to really like you and your blog. You post a lot of stuff that I find aesthetically pleasing, and most of the time.

But your anti-Brendon posts are overwhelmingly wrong. You clearly got your information from here and tiktok.

Ryan nor Jon hold anything against Brendon and they wish him the best.

Also they left YEARS ago, also also P!ATD didn’t start to really climb to fame UNTIL Death of a batchlor when Brendon PROVED he was just as talented.

Also also he APOLOGIZED, and has ACTIVELY worked on being a better person??

Not only that, he pays everyone for their lyrics, and songs!

If you are gonna hate Brendon, hate him for this shit he’s ACTUALLY done, not for the shit people made up just cuz they like Ryan Ross’s music???

Idk why everyone is so “omg people can change you shouldn’t hold things from their past against them!! Unless of course that perosn is a celebrity, apologized, and has done anything wrong since! They will never change and we need to make sure everything they do in under the tightest of scrutiny, and we should just cancel them”

Like GIVE THEM ROOM TO CHANGE AND GROW YOU ASSHOLES?!? Why do you(general not specific) get the soft, tender “oh be nice to me I’m learning and growing” but NO ONE ELSE DOES! It’s the same shit with Johnny Depp like it’s so fuckinf annoying!!

THEY ARE STILL PEOPLE THO I KNOW ITS HARD TO BELIEVE THAT CELEBRITIES ARE FUCKING PEOPLE BUT THEY ARE, AND PEOPLE MAKE FUCKING MISTAKES OMFG

I see people still watching Shane Dawson, Pewdiepie, and James Charlies EVEN THO THEY ACTIVELY ARE STILL DOING SHITTY THINGS!!

But one person discovered Ryan Ross and now Brendon Urie who has worked really hard SINCE they left to bring his band back, and to grow and mature, everyone just hates him. For no good reason.

Bands break up and reform all the time! I mean look at System Of the Down!

I’m unfollowing you. So no real reason to reply. I’m only in Anon cuz I know you Ryan Ross Stans are fucking mean, and I don’t want to be harassed.

I hope you have a great day, life, or time!

I don’t wish any harm, on you!

Good luck pal, and I hope you get over this.

what is this 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[ghostbustermelanieking]

AU of the Archives finding out Jon is being held by the Circus (while he’s still being held captive there?)

anon, thank you for giving me an excuse to write something like this; i am always looking for 101 h/c lol. warning for discussions/depictions of the kidnapping scenario in 101.

1. They only really find out by accident. More specifically, they find out because Melanie is snooping around the Institute (already searching for solutions to her being trapped there), and finds the tape, somehow, the one where Nikola talks to Elias. She only needs to listen through once before they put the pieces together: Georgie told her Jon left. They haven't seen Jon since—and sure, he wasn't in much before, but—this long? And that is Jon's voice on the tape: muffled and panicked and indecipherable, but still pretty obviously him.

Melanie shows it to the others, and the tape isn't even finished before Martin is demanding they have to find him, they have to find him now, panic flashing visibly in his eyes—he's been gone for WEEKS, and why didn't I notice, why didn't any of YOU notice, and don't fucking try to argue with me, Tim, Jon has been KIDNAPPED and they're going to KILL HIM— And Tim looks hurt, at this insinuation, is snapping back before Martin can even finish, I wasn't going to ARGUE, Martin, Christ, and he hasn't told them about his brother yet, but he immediately went pale when he heard Nikola's voice, heard her going on about skinning Jon, and they all saw it, and Melanie and Basira are putting it together before Martin is: Tim's in, too.

Basira's the one who says We need to find him in the end, but Martin and Tim have already decided by then.

2. In the end, Elias is the one who tells them where Jon is. (After some persuasion.) He hadn't intended to originally, but obviously they already know, and obviously no one is going to be focused on finding the ritual site, and sloppy work won't benefit anyone, much less the whole world. (And if the rescue goes messy, and it ends up benefitting the whole of his plan, well—)

They take a car and ride up there, the four of them. (There's some brief argument as to whether or not they all should go, but Martin's obviously going, and Tim doesn't back down, and Basira insists she can get them in and out, and Melanie isn't saying no…) It's a long, tense car ride, hours of mostly silence broken up by panic on Martin's behalf. (He's still berating himself, even if he won't berate the others—how could they not have known, how could he not have noticed, how has Jon been held prisoner somewhere for weeks and Elias didn't goddamn tell them, and it's been so long, and what if it's too late, what if they're too late, what if he's already dead—) And then, eventually, Tim breaks the silence. By telling them what happened to his brother. (It's NOT a statement, he says, but it feels like one anyway, and no one speaks until he's done. He sounds choked up by the end, furious and fearful and grieving all at once—I didn't think they would come for—I-I didn't think Jon would…)

The images from Tim's story loom over well enough, along with the half-remembered sounds of the tape sent to Elias. We're going to use every piece of you. I thought you'd make a lovely frock. The imagery is grotesque and Martin is sick with it, leaning against the car window, hoping with a fierce desperation that they aren't too late.

3. They aren't too late. And they get in without being detected, somehow. (Afterwards, Basira will keep saying that it was too easy, the whole thing felt too easy, and Tim will say tiredly, "Who the fuck cares? We got out.")

Jon's woken up by someone whispering his name—quiet, with a gentle subtlety that the Stranger more than lacks. It's Martin—this becomes clear as soon as he opens his eyes, although it takes a moment for everything to slot into place, the reality of Martin leaning over him, eyes wide with concern. "Oh, Christ, you're all right," Martin says, his voice shaking. "Thank God. I-I thought…" He stops then, and goes to work on getting Jon free.

"Martin?" Jon hisses as soon as the gag is gone, and then—Tim, working at the ropes on his legs, Melanie and Basira towards the door. "What—wh-what are you doing here?"

"What are you talking about?" Melanie says, her voice as muted as the others. "We found you, that's what we're doing here."

"Y-you can't be here," says Jon, still stuck in the panic of the past few weeks. "They'll kill you, you can't be here…"

"We're already here," says Tim. "We're not leaving you behind."

Jon's eyes jerk between the four of them frantically before landing back on Martin—Martin, who looks like he's nearly on the verge of tears, who says, "We're getting you out of here, Jon," and helps him to his feet. Jon grips at his hand as he's pulled to his feet, the relief washing through him in waves—he hadn't realized until then how much he'd expected never to be rescued or found—how much he'd thought he would die here.

4. They get hotel rooms rather than driving back—it's a long drive, and Jon looks nearly dead on his feet, and it makes sense. Jon sleeps for nearly sixteen hours straight after a long-running shower, and the others mostly alternate between sleeping and watching for agents of the Circus. (No one ever comes.)

Melanie calls Georgie to let her know. Tim leaves Elias a nasty voicemail. Martin goes to get breakfast from a store nearby, and take-out tea, and when Jon wakes up, they eat clustered in the hotel room to mostly silence.

Jon says, at one point, I didn't think anyone would come. He says it mostly to the floor, when the others are out of the room, and it's just him and Martin drinking tea that isn't nearly as good as the homemade stuff. He clears his throat and adds, Thank you for… for coming, Martin, I…

Martin tenses beside him immediately in immediate horror, says, Of course we came; of course we came, Jon, I don't know why—I-I am so sorry, I'm SO sorry we didn't come sooner, we didn't know… We didn't know, I'm so sorry.

It doesn't matter, says Jon. It doesn't matter, just… thank you. Thank you for coming, I… i-if anything had happened to you, I wouldn't have…

They're leaning together, almost unconsciously, their arms pressed together, and Martin says, I'll always come. If… I-I hope this never happens again, Jon, b-but I… I'll always come.

Sitting in the dim-lit hotel room, Jon believes him. He knows immediately that he's telling the truth, and he says, I will, too, and he means it just as much.

5. The whole experience is a catalyst to everyone talking more, because how could it not be? There's a difference between someone saying they were kidnapped and actually hearing about it—actually seeing it. The drive back leaves plenty of time to make peace, or something like it.

Jon starts spending more time in the Archives, in the weeks before he has to leave again. He and Martin have lunch almost every day; sometimes the others join them. Melanie calls and tells Georgie what's happened, and Georgie immediately reaches out to make sure Jon is okay. And Jon and Tim make their peace, more or less, gradually—not all at once, but gradually. (Tim hugs Jon when they get back and says he's glad he's okay. Jon offers an apology a few days later, for everything they haven't had the chance to talk about, and the recorders come on, and neither of them mention it. And nearly a week later, Tim tells Jon about what happened to his brother.) And it's something, some step in the right direction, towards healing.

[rise-my-angel]

hii mimi- you probably won't remember me but i was the emergency room anon from about over a month ago. and i'm back in the er again- for something different but i'm just as terrified. 😞😞 would it be possible to ask if you have any headcannons for how comforting modern!jon and modern!robb would be if their significant other had to go to the er? if not, then that's absolutely ok! thank you so much for reading, mimi. pls take care.

Of course I remember you! And of course you can ask for headcanons! I tried to answer this as quickly as possible hoping it might be even a little something to help!

Robb's career as the eldest brother has prepared him for this. He is easily the most comforting. Promises to drive you, stays with you, takes care of anyone who may need to know where you've gone or anything you may have that being in the ER might get in the way of, and always checks in for what you need.

If you don't like asking questions, he will always be quick on the draw for what you need to know or ask what he should know so he knows what to do or how to help you. Many times he keeps your hands in his, thumb always running over the top of yours to keep them both occupied and to keep you close to him, that physical sensation nice and calming.

If you're in the ER there is no better option then Robb to keep you calm. He has been through more then enough situations with his younger siblings to know when someone needs a calming figure at their side, and he does so with you, but the physical affection he gives is so much more. His words always are soft and soothing in your ear, never too loud and staying by your side as much as he can.

Trying to joke and whatnot if he thinks you need your mind distracted even for just a moment. Modern Robb can be a bit of a mother hen about you when you're in the hospital for any reason, and it never fails to both make Catelyn laugh and proud that her eldest son takes care of you with all the dedication and softness she tried to raise him with.

Though, she has told him a few times to maybe give you more physical space sometimes then literally glued to your side, but Robb argues "If I'm close enough to keep a hand on her, then she always knows I'm there." Catelyn just deadpans that she thinks you'll remember just fine, but he always mutters quietly to you that he just wants to be there for whenever you need something.

Also if its taking a very long time, Robb will turn up the charm to the nurses to try and either figure out the delay or charm his way into speeding up the process for you.

He is probably the best for being in the ER, since hes both calming and a good authoritative figure to help ensure you're not waiting for hours for someone to do something for you.

When you come home, if Robb can't be there, then Grey Wind stays at your side, almost as attentive as Robb but he has the perk of being large, warm, and furry and always lets you cuddle with him so you feel better.

If Robb is the mother hen, Jon is the overly concerned hen. First of all, the likelihood that Jon is at the Wall when something happens is almost always the scenario. Doesn't matter what he's doing, or if he's in the middle of something, the man will hear you're either going to the ER or already there and leave. He routinely may or may not break the speed limit when it comes to rushing home for you.

He'll first call Robb, ask what's going on so that he doesn't bombard you with questions when you're scared and if you're still at home then strap in he's all but throwing his stuff down in the main hall and carrying you to the car- no he will not put you down, why would you ask him that?

If you're already there, Jon will not hesitate to make a scene, come right up to you and cup your cheeks, pressing a kiss to your forehead and apologizing he wasn't here sooner. Keeps you against his warm figure, as he asks how you're feeling, and what you need. Jon will keep you pulled right into his side all warm and cuddled as much as possible, lips pressing to your hair and rasping in deep mutters whenever he says something, so the low vibrations are soothing.

If you're waiting a while, Jon however is the wrong one to have there because he gets frustrated he's watching you wait when you're upset or scared. More then once a nurse has told him not to raise his voice, and yes he feels terrible for it, but he's immensely frustrated he has to watch you upset and cannot speed things up for you. The head triage nurse is used to him though, and typically when she hears Jons voice begin to echo down the halls is like "Gods protect us here we go, better move before he and the nurse start a bloody shouting match."

Jon isn't trying to be impatient, but he gets upset the longer he watches you feel scared or upset or nervous and no progress is being made to move things along for you. The doctors better not ask him to leave though, because Jon will stand his ground acting like he's your support/guard dog who cannot leave your side.

The one time he was, he was out in the waiting area on the phone with Sam rambling how frustrated he is that he doesn't know how you're doing and what if you need him but he's not there and Sam is just like "I think you're more upset then she is" and honestly yes, yes Jon is.

He doesn't like when you're upset for any reason, and wants to hover over you in situations like this to jump in the second he senses you need something you may not know how to ask for, from him or anyone.

And yes, he is carrying you to the car again when you inevitably go home, and no that one is also non negotiable.

When he brings you home, Ghost will always make a scene if Jon doesn't let him go to bed cuddled up to your side as well and will whine in upset because he wants to comfort you as much as Jon does. The most needy pair of wolves they are.

[fae-morrigan]

Here's a comment: This is all the dumbest thing I've ever heard in my entire life.

But since you wanna do this... Sure! Lets do this.

First of all, I genuinely have no idea where in gods name you got the idea that Jon's trauma has just gone unaddressed for the last five years. Have you, like, been in a coma?

Come on. What, do you need it spelled out for you? Do you need Jon to turn, look at the camera and go, "I'm traumatized and coping with it weirdly!" Please. Comics are still stories that deserve the respect of being read with your brain on. Show them that respect. We've BEEN getting the "hints."

And speaking as someone who DOES have c-ptsd... Its an entirely accurate depiction. Frankly, way more accurate to that kind of long-term trauma than him... laser beaming the ceiling????

On that point, second of all: Yes, it would've killed Bendis to immediately delve into Jon's trauma the second he got home. You yourself bring up the idea of Jon putting on the mask of being a happy teenager in order to make the people around him happy. Hate to break it to you, you didn't come up with that. That's canon.

Whole arc in Action Comics about it, too. I'll say it till i'm blue, PUT SOME RESPECT ON PHILLIP KENNEDY JOHNSONS NAME!

Also, do you know what pacing is? Or like, how a narrative functions?

I've made the point before that simply going right into the Trauma stuff after it all went down would've ruined Jon's chance at ever being anything more than a trauma prop for Clark & Lois. And I have since been consistently validated in that, considering Jon's story is now about him and who HE is, instead of him being damselled whenever Clark needs a man-pain moment or whenever Lois needs to be a momma bear, the way people seem to desperately miss for reasons that are BEYOND me.

Jon's got an extended cast beyond Damian and Clois, now. He's allowed to be the center of his own narrative, not simply just a prop for other people. We see how he changes and learns and asserts himself, and come to understand why. If they had gone directly into the Ultraman stuff after it happened, that wouldn't have been possible, because we wouldn't have first established who Jon Kent is outside of his pain.

Jon's not a side character anymore. He's a protagonist. And that comes with certain things you HAVE to do as a writer AND a reader before you can get to the good stuff.

Third of all: Your idea is frankly way worse than what we got, and I HATED Legion 2019. Playing further into Imra's mischaracterization at the hands of Bendis so you can uplift a male character that DOES NOT NEED the uplifting you're doing is pretty damn misogynistic. It also doesn't even make sense for what Bendis DID tell you about her, that' she's just a) misguided and b) passionate. Women are more than your props for a man's pain. But also, in what universe would Clark & Lois agree to that?! Look, I'm one to critique Clark's parenting, but that's just CARTOONISHLY out of character.

Fourth of all: It has been thirty years and they've still not addressed the fact that Kon is a victim of CSA and grooming. Jon is actually making great time on 'dealing with trauma'. You don't get to complain that they 'dont deal with it' and then ALSO complain when they FINALLY do it in a way you actually pick up on (when everyone else was WAYYYY ahead of you).

If you're going to condescend to those of us who can read and analyze, you should at least have the decency of your idea being a good one based in any of the established themes that have spanned Jon's whole history. If you can't manage that... don't quit your day job.

Please apologize to What0Smart for leaving this inanity on his post. And apologize to the rest of us for making us read it!

Absolute Power:Superson Previews!!!

Looks like this comic is gonna be all over the place as Jon goes through his memories but I’m excited for it, I can’t get over Damian’s outfit, based one what we’ve heard it sounds like he’ll make some more appearances throughout.

Also I wonder if Nia is actually dead, I don’t think she is but maybe she’s stuck in Jon’s head for the time being.

Jon being glued to his phone texting Jay is so cute I can’t wait to see them reunite. “They’re telling me to rest” implying he would have gone to pick up Jay if he could lol

Here’s some previews that came from the Nicole and Sina’s social medias!

It looks very silly in the initial previews but based on the descriptions we’ve gotten so far it’s sounds like it’s gonna get serious and dive into Jon’s trauma.

I’ll keep you all updated when it releases on September 18th!!!

[findafight]

i really agree w your opinions on stancy's (and jancy's) issues never being satisfyingly dealt w and it's a huge roadblock for me w anything set in the canon universe - esp w stoncy tbh bc then steve and jonathan's potential issues get added to the mix. recently a fic i really liked actually had stancy (tho jonathan was also present) talk and nancy apologize but for some reason during their talk the cheating is never addressed (which is esp egregious in this fic imo bc steve knows but it was jonathan who told him at an earlier point - like even if steve wasn't pissed about the cheating [he should be but the author doesn't let him be] at least let him be pissed nancy didn’t tell him herself) and the writer keeps having steve just,,, not react to the cheating. like he just swallows down whatever he felt when jonathan told him then never brings it up? and it's so confusing bc the cheating is flat out called cheating. i probably should have expected something like this from this author bc they have mentioned this supposed loophole of steve apparently blanketly forgiving nancy during their break up scene which is just not what happened (esp considering steve didn't know she cheated); all he did was apologize, break up w her officially, and say it was okay for her to date jonathan. there is no blanket form of forgiveness and there is no way for steve to magically know jancy fucked, esp when he might be v reluctant to assume that considering his spiral in s1.

The cheating (both physical and lbr emotional before then) is what Nancy should be apologizing for MOST! And then not telling him right away and letting him take all the blame for the relationship falling apart, and then all the other stuff. Absolutely agree that Steve should be pissed/hurt that he wasn't told right away, and that Nancy wasn't the one to tell him. (also i think that's the only way he'd find out)Just. That, to me, shows she doesn't consider what she did was wrong, or doesn't respect Steve/his friendship enough to tell him herself. Which is a major issue if she actually wants to make things right with him! How does she apologize for how things ended and her part in it without mentioning cheating on him!! Let steve be angry!

Steve, in the scene where he tells Nancy to go with the Byers to Hopper's cabin, is only telling her that it's okay for her to go. He's letting her go (love something set it free style). He isn't giving blanket forgiveness?? He might have picked up vibes from jancy and realize that Nancy will probably not be open to working things out, but not that they slept together? Yeah post s1 Steve would try hard to get a handle on his extreme reactions to perceived infidelity, but also. He'd been dating Nancy for nearly a year. Maybe she couldn't say she loved him when put on the spot, and she was definitely drifting towards Jon, but I'd say he still expected her to respect him enough to do the bare bones minimum of not cheating on him. Why would he think she would? Why would he think badly of the girl he loved? why would he assume she had such little regard for his feelings to betray him in such a way? After dating for a year Steve wouldn't think the worst of Nancy, and would likely assume she also wouldn't do something like that to him.

The thing is I want Steve and Jonathan to be friends, I think their dynamic could be fun! but as it stands now in canon...nah man they don't like each other. Jon thinks Steve is a reckless idiot, and Steve sees Jonathan as Will's big brother who took creepy pictures of him and his friends and that his gf left him for. Jon and Nancy cheating on Steve complicates things further, and to think Steve would push that down is not it. Let him be angry! Let him be hurt! Let him rage! Nancy Cheated and didn't have the decency to tell him or to break up with him, or to prevent him taking all the blame in their relationship.

It's frustrating because I want to see them work it out. Work through it, or at the very least talk about it. I can't satisfyingly do it because I don't care about the ship enough to do it justice, but it's the kind of fic I'd like to see. I'd love to read a stancy shipper's take on how they move forward through that hurt and heartbreak and messiness. I think it'd be so interesting. But. it seems like folks just aren't writing those kinds of fics or acknowledging the infidelity at all or, as you said, brushing it all aside, when it's a a part of Steve's characterization that he wouldn't be able to just move past it due to his home life. which is boring. And it's more interesting to address those problems! It's messy and hurtful and interesting!! (I've looked on ao3 for stancy fics like this that actually acknowledge the cheating and have found ONE written immediately post s2 by someone I think is a stancy shipper [or at least used to be] and bitter about it. Most other fics within the search parameters have STEVE the one cheating [I've complained about it before but seriously wtf])

I know in RaSEPSM I sorta...softballed the cheating a little by saying the end of the relationship was unclear, but tbh that's sort of stobin trying to defend and rationalize people they thought were their friends to themselves? because no one wants to believe their friends would do something like that, let alone to another friend, so sort of... saying that there was a nebulous period between Halloween and when Steve told Nancy to go with the Byers where Steve thought they were still dating but on the rocks but where maybe Nancy thought they were over allows them to be hurt but also not fully blame their friends, if that makes sense.

[hilarychuff]

The Pizza Artist Formerly Known As Princess

a princess diaries au drabble

inspired by this au graphic; find the first in the series here or read both on ao3 here

The day Jon Snow shows up on her front steps with close-cropped hair and a clean-shaven face, Sansa Stark wants to die. 

She hadn’t processed it at first that morning — she’d practically gone into shock when she’d first answered the door, and then it had been hard to get a thought in edgewise with Arya berating him nonstop for the entirety of the drive to school — but by fourth period, the misery had started to set in. Now, she’s escalated to full-blown despair, barging into Arya’s room so she can dramatically flop onto her sister’s bed.

“It’s not fair,” she groans, throwing her arms over her eyes where she’s laying in a haphazard swoon. “I can’t believe Jon would do this to me.”

Arya doesn’t look up from where she sits at her desk across the room, eyes laser-focused on some video game she’s playing on her computer. She jabs violently at her keyboard, the keys clacking loudly as she swears under her breath, but Sansa sighs in increasingly loud increments until her sister finally breaks. 

“I hate it when you do that,” Arya growls. “And whatever. Get over it. It’s not like he did anything to you anyway. All he did was cut his hair.”

“What!” Sansa shrieks, bolting upright so she can stare unbelievingly across the room. “He did so! And you were saying the same exact thing this morning, by the way! You really owe him an apology, you know. You were being really mean, Arya. Like, meaner than usual.”

“I was not,” Arya sulks, but anyone could hear the guilt in her voice. “But just for your information, Jon’s stupid haircut has nothing to do with you. He’s just… going through some stuff. With his family. Why do you even care, anyway? Doesn’t his freaky preppy makeover mean he’ll finally be popular enough for you to date now?”

“Mean!” Sansa accuses again, pointing a finger. “This is not the plot of an Avril Lavigne song, Arya, this is my life! And now he’s ruined it by shaving his patchy little mustache.”

Finally, Arya looks away from the computer, spinning around in her desk chair so she can glare at her sister. “You’re the one that’s always saying — and I quote — ‘if Jon Snow would just get a haircut and give up on growing a beard, everyone would see how cute he totally is.’”

“And I was right!” Sansa moans, flopping onto the bed again, throwing her arms back over her eyes. “Now everyone knows what I’ve known for the last two years! You should’ve seen the way Margaery was looking at him when Mr. Slynt finally made him take his beanie off during lunch. I bet she’s never even noticed him before in her life!”

“So what?” Arya grumbles. “You’re also the one that’s refused to ask him out for forever. Shit or get off the pot, Sansa.”

“Ew, don’t say that. And you’re the one that told me that it would ruin everything if Jon and I dated.”

Arya gives a noncommittal grunt, spinning back around to face her computer game. 

“Well, you did,” Sansa insists. “Now everything’s going to be ruined anyway.”

“What are you so worried about?” Arya asks in that same sulky tone from before. “Isn’t Margaery Tyrell still dating your heinous ex boyfriend?”

“I mean, yeah, but if it’s not Margaery, it’s bound to be someone else.”

“So if everything’s ruined anyway, why don’t you just ask him out, then?”

Sansa sits right back up again. “Do you mean that?”

Arya peeks over her shoulder, gives a reluctant shrug. “I mean, you should check with Robb first. I feel like he might be kind of pissy about it.”

“But you wouldn’t mind? You’d be OK with it?”

“I mean…. It’s whatever,” Arya says, more mock-casual than actually effortless. “Obviously I still think it would be weird if you and Jon dated. But if someone’s going to date him, it should be you, right?”

“Totally,” Sansa agrees. And then, more shyly, “Do you think he’d say yes?”

Arya groans, drops her head down into her arms on top of the keyboard. “Can we not talk about this anymore?” she moans, her voice coming out muffled. “Isn’t it enough that I’ll have to live with it?”

“But do you think he would?”

Arya shifts so that she can peek over at Sansa with one eye. 

“You’re not really worried, are you?”

Sansa only shrugs, brings her hand to her mouth where she bites down on the pad of her thumb, teeth clenched against the skin as the best alternative to her nail. Other than a minor relapse last fall, she managed to break the habit years ago, and she cements her commitment to it with a fresh manicure each week, but every now and then the temptation feels overwhelming. Her sister just sighs and lifts her head all the way off her arms. 

“I think,” Arya says slowly, voice measured, “that if he said no, he’d be even stupider than Joffrey.”

Sansa nods, forces herself to release her thumb. She wipes her hands on her skirt as she stands, then reaches up to fix her ponytail, all mussed from her dramatics. 

“Totally,” Sansa says. And then again, as if just to herself, “Totally.”

She moves towards the door, and Arya turns fully back to her computer, hands poised over the keyboard and mouse. 

“For the record, though, Sans,” Arya calls over her shoulder, glancing back before Sansa fully steps into the hall, “I’m pretty sure Jon is one of the smartest guys in our whole school.”

—

Jon Snow is a prince. Like, a real prince. Like, a real royal prince set to inherit a whole royal throne one day. Probably even one in a castle. Probably even one with a scepter. That’s what everyone is saying, at least, that he’s the heir to some tiny European country called Valyria. 

Sansa hadn’t understood what was happening earlier when the mob had suddenly surged in their direction, shouting questions and snapping pictures, cameras flashing as microphones and tape recorders and the hands holding them were suddenly shoved between the three of them. They’d been separated by the crowd, her and Arya and Jon all pushed or dragged off in different directions, and it had only been once Sansa finally stumbled free of the crush that she’d even realized it was Jon they were circling, Jon they were following up the front stairs to school. She’d heard what they were shouting, the questions they were asking, but there’d been so many people around, so much noise that she hadn’t really processed any of it until she was sitting in first period. 

By then, the whispering had started, too. 

At first, Sansa wasn’t sure if she believed it. She knew Jon! She’d known him for years. She’d been to his house, met his mom. Had he kept it secret that whole time? How come he’d never told her? Did Robb know? Did Arya?

By the time the bell chimed for her second class, people were saying that the queen herself was on campus, holed up in the principal’s office with half her security team. Sansa had gone so far as faking a period emergency so that she could duck out of gym and sneak down the hall to see just who that meant. And Lyanna had been there, voice raised, visible through one of the windows on either side of the office door as she shouted about something Sansa couldn’t quite make out. But she also hadn’t been alone in the room with Jon and Mr. Arryn. As Sansa walked by, she could also catch a glimpse of at least one more man, one more woman, both with silver blonde hair — and then the towering security guards standing outside the door had meaningfully cleared their throats and she’d scampered away down the hall, ducking into the computer lab so she could frantically Google Jon Snow’s mom. 

But when people had talked about the queen, they hadn’t meant Lyanna. There hadn’t been any search results for her, but there had been for Valyria, and it had led her straight to a Wikipedia page that outlined generations of the Targaryen family history, even included portraits of silver-haired, stoic-faced rulers over the decades. Apparently, the queen everyone was talking about was Daenerys Targaryen, the newly crowned monarch of Valyria. And did that mean the other man in the principal’s office had been Jon’s dad? She hadn’t even known he’d had one. Or she knew he’d had one at some point, obviously, but nobody had ever talked about him before. 

The whole thing leaves Sansa’s head spinning. Jon, a prince. In line for his aunt’s throne. An aunt she’s almost sure he’s never met before. That he might not have even known he had a month ago. 

She’s still trying to wrap her mind around it all an hour later, but everyone else seems to have no problem coming around to the concept. Instead, it’s all anyone can talk about, small clusters of students circled up in classrooms, in hallways, out in the courtyard — and it’s driving Sansa absolutely crazy. Last Friday, most of these people wouldn’t have known Jon’s name, or at least would’ve pretended not to if they thought it would’ve gotten a laugh out of Joffrey or Loras or one of the other popular kids. Now, even they were pretending to be Jon’s friends.

Finally, Sansa can’t stand it anymore when a senior she’s seen around campus a few times bursts into the third floor bathroom, boasting to a friend, “I always knew there was something really cool about him. He’s so dark and mysterious.”

Sansa stuffs her crumpled paper towel into the trash can, spins around on one heel to fix them with a glare. 

“Do you even know his full name?” Sansa snaps. 

The girl stops in her tracks, giving Sansa a once-over from toe to top. “Excuse you?”

“Jon Snow’s full name,” she says, and she can feel her cheeks going hot. “Do you even know what it is?”

It’s just Jon. He doesn’t even have a middle name. But Sansa doubts this girl knows that. In fact, she half wants to see if the other girl will go far enough to invent one for him. The senior doesn’t, though. Instead, she just narrows her eyes. 

“If I knew his full name, then he wouldn’t be so mysterious, would he?”

Sansa lets out an affronted squawk, coming up short on some sort of immediate quippy comeback, then scrambles to regain the upper-hand.   

“He’s not mysterious,” she insists after a beat, at least half a lie. “You just never noticed him before today, so don’t pretend you have.”

The girl scoffs, but her friend laughs, rolls her eyes, steps forward to fix her hair in the mirror. “Whatever,” she says. “Ignore her. Just because she’s little miss princess doesn’t mean she gets first dibs when an actual prince comes along. He’s fair game.”

And that stings. Because Sansa’s not trying to call dibs, she has an actual, honest-to-Gods real date with him planned for Saturday night, and she hadn’t even known he was a prince this morning when she’d asked him out — but it’s the princess part that nearly sends her lip quivering. She clamps her mouth shut so they won’t see, then shoulders past them and pushes back out into the crowded hallway. Outside, she squeezes past the lockers and to the stairwell so she can go hide in the second floor girls’ bathroom instead. 

–

For three days now, Sansa has hardly seen Jon outside of awkward little waves exchanged across the hallways between classes. Ever since the news broke, he’s been mobbed at school, accompanied by his aunt’s security everywhere outside of it. It had been nice, those few days Jon had picked them up in a limo, but apparently those rides are off-limits until his aunt’s people have finished giving them all background checks, and his aunt doesn’t want him to walk anymore either now that the whole world knows who he is. At least, that’s what he told Arya on the phone when he’d called to let them know not to wait for him in the mornings. 

He’s talked to Robb too, called him up to beg him to make Theon stop trying to sell embarrassing stories to the local papers. Each time Theon convinces a journalist or reporter that Jon won the seventh grade spelling bee contest with the word brassiere or that Jon volunteers at a soup kitchen each weekend to serve exclusively shrimp cocktail, he comes up with an even more far-fetched lie to try on the next one. And Theon’s not the only one taking advantage of the media barrage. 

By Thursday, Joffrey has also wormed his way onto the local TV news, promising that his dad’s role as the state governor is going to be super important when it comes to foreign relations with Valyria. He puffs out his chest and insists it’s good luck for Queen Daenerys that he and Jon have known each other so long. He twists his wormy lips into a smirk and says he’s even happy to give Jon some tips about what it’s like to be a public figure. After all, he knows how it feels to have to deal with all kinds of phonies and social climbers who are just after him because of his status. 

Sansa doesn’t want Jon to think she’s one of them. They’ve never spent much time together at school, and she doesn’t want him to think she’s suddenly hanging all over him in public in the hopes that someone somewhere will snap a photo of them. That she’s aiming to end up on the cover of a magazine so she can get discovered. Or so that she can be a princess for real. She doesn’t want him to think she’s being weird, that anything has changed between them. Most of the time they spent together was in the mornings or after school, but with that off limits, with him busy with his aunt and official royal business or whatever — well, Saturday night will be there soon enough, right? She’ll see him then.

Only, when it turns out that Margaery dumped Joffrey because of that stupid interview, Sansa wants to tear her hair out. Because that means Margaery really is going to try and ask him out, and if Sansa dares to even look at Jon at school it’ll become a whole thing, some weird, stupid rivalry, and she can’t take it if people start pitting them against each other as often as they had back when Joffrey first dumped her for Margaery. Especially when she can’t compare, not when Margaery has a driver’s license and a platinum card and two homecoming queen tiaras displayed in her bedroom while Sansa hadn’t even scored a sophomore court sash. 

But it doesn’t matter. It won’t become some sort of public competition as long as she doesn’t make it one. If she just stays away, if she just lays low for one more day, keeps ducking out of rooms whenever Margaery or Jon or Joffrey enters them, then soon enough she and Jon will be on their date and it won’t matter that Margaery has her eye on him. Sansa knows that she doesn’t just like Jon because he’s suddenly famous and cool at school, and she knows that he knows that, too. Right? It was one thing to worry about Margaery making a move back when Sansa was just planning on pining after him forever and there was nothing to stop him from saying yes, but now they have plans — real, solid plans — and Jon wouldn’t just forget about that because someone more popular came along. Jon’s not like that, even if Joffrey was.

If she can just survive the next 30 hours or so, none of this will matter. They’ll have all the privacy they need at the garage, and she can make sure he sees exactly how much she likes him just for him. Not because he’s a prince. Not even just because of his cute new haircut. They’ll finally have a chance to be alone, just the two of them (or maybe his new bodyguard will have to be there too, but she can work with that), and she’s not going to waste it. 

–

The pizza is getting cold. She’d ordered it in advance so she could make sure it was ready in time, so she could make a smiley face on it with M&Ms, but now she’s thinking maybe that was a mistake. Maybe she should’ve waited to order it until he was already here. She doesn’t think he’ll mind, and there’s a toaster oven in the makeshift break room Uncle Benjen set up by the front office if they want to pick off the M&Ms and heat their slices up, but she just really wants this whole thing to go right. 

But it’s fine! It’s fine. Jon’s running late. It’s no big deal. He’ll be here soon. 

Only, another hour later, he’s not. She’s tried calling, but the phone at his house just keeps ringing and ringing. She wonders if maybe Lyanna’s not home. She usually is. She’s usually working on some amazing, abstract art project in the big, open area where they used to park the ladder trucks back when their place was a fire station, but it’s not uncommon for her to have the radio turned all the way up. Maybe she’s working on a piece. Maybe she can’t hear the phone ringing. If Jon’s not answering, that means he’s probably already on his way, right? Right?

By the time another hour has passed, she’s eaten all of the M&Ms off the pizza and most of the cheese. She’d thought she could get away with just little nibbles at first. If she left enough, if she didn’t bite right into a slice, it would still look like a full, regular pizza by the time he got there. She didn’t want him to think she hadn’t waited for him. But now it’s just bread smeared with red sauce, and she’s starting to think he’s not coming. There’s probably a good reason. He probably got caught up doing something important for his aunt. He’s a prince, after all. He’s probably got, like, duties and stuff now. 

He’ll call her tomorrow and explain everything, she’s sure of it. But maybe she’ll give him just 20 more minutes first.