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patchwork-oil · 9 months

Text

❧ "Blue Hour”

Chapter 1/?

Pairing: Karkat/Reader (Gender Neutral) Word count: 2,101 Warnings: strong language

Summary: You and your roommate Karkat have a somewhat typical Friday night.

Author’s Note: First x reader I'm posting! Kinda excited :3 dunno if I'll continue this but it was fun to make regardless. I know x readers don't tend to be in first person, but it's my favorite way to read them so :,) you're stuck with that.... The whole theme of my writing is that it's hugely self-indulgent. since like. the homestuck x reader tag is super dead askhjfd

It’s blue hour isn’t it? I can hardly tell if there are clouds in the sky right now. Looking up between the buildings feels as though I might be about to fall into a deep, dark pool. The street below looks like it’s underwater, the lights from all buildings nearby look… tired? Like I’m looking back at the past through an old, sad movie.

The front door jingles and opens.

Oh, Karkat’s home. What the hell was I doing just now?

I could have sworn I was doing… something on my laptop. Oh, right. Just watching some YouTube. But, I paused it? To look at the clouds? I’m really out of it right now, I guess.

Unconsciously I shake the distraction out of my head. It hasn’t been that long since I got back from my job at the grocery store, I must have spaced out trying to relax to some videos. Whatever, there are much more important things to think about at a time like now.

“Karkaaat-” I announce once I open the door to the living room, drawing out his name as long as I could.

“Fucking hell! What!” He grouched something about just getting back home, a single moment of peace would be nice. He hides his startled jump by trying to put his coat on the rack by the door.

“You said you’re cooking tonight,“ I accuse, “and I have never been more in the mood for chicken than I am in this moment right now.” I point a finger at him like I’m in a courtroom and my last name is Wright.

Karkat makes a look like some sort of wince. “Uh huh. And I’m the unfortunate slob who has to do something about that.” It was almost phrased like a question. He exaggerates every move as he closes the door and steps inside.

“You are!” I nod “When you lost the chess match with John yesterday, you also made your roommate look like a loser, remember?”

“Yes, I get it, I get it. You’re annoying and I have to pay for it.”

“I’m just saying we both know John is going to ridicule me for even thinking about supporting you at the tournament so you should be the one who has to pay the medical bill for the… embarrassment. In the form of food. Tonight. As dinner…” He looks up at me from taking off his shoes, not amused and highly confused. “I’m losing my train of thought. You said you’d make dinner anyway! Why am I trying to convince you?”

“I didn’t even say anything,” he chuckles, “that was 100% you.”

“I picked up chicken and broccoli from the store today!” As I walked past him to the fridge, I hit him on the arm.

“Fucker,” he spits.

“And I’ll do the dishes like usual.” Placing the chicken on the counter, I reach for the broccoli-

“Just sit your ass down! If I have to deal with your sniveling prongs making a mess all over the meal block, (Name), I swear to God we are not having a repeat of pasta night.” He starts to make big shooing gestures, ushering me out.

“You really suffocate my creative spirit, KK,” I playfully sigh, knowing full well I shouldn’t be allowed in the kitchen with my track record of spilling anything that can be spilled. Sometimes even things that can’t be spilled.

“Last time I checked, we don’t need ‘creativity’ over an open flame.”

“You may be right.” I giggle. “Thanks for cooking though.”

He mumbles some affirmation and gets to work. My gaze lingers on his back for just a moment before going back to my room to grab my Switch. I’ll always feel guilty about not helping out but I know that even if I were more graceful in the kitchen, he prefers to have control over everything. I will, however, be within earshot if he needs an extra hand. Starting up something casual on the Switch, I plop down onto the couch.

Maybe there was something in those clouds today. I can’t stay focused on one thing for too long. I’ve abandoned the game, still holding it my hands while its quiet soundtrack plays. Every time Karkat uttered a curse over the food, I caught myself looking up, watching him for a while, then looking away.

We’d been roommates for ages now, since the last year of college. We quickly clicked, which was super fortunate for me. There was no way I wanted to live on my own after school, and as luck would have it, he wasn’t opposed to staying as roommates either. He, for the most part, enjoys cooking, I clean the dishes since he says he hates doing that, he doesn’t mind to remind me when I forget to do a chore around the house, and I’m not bothered by how he gets loud on calls with his friends. It’s such a ruminating day today…

“Hello? Do you have slime in your hear ducts?”

Eh? Ruminating over.

“Earth to (name).”

“I’m here! I’m awake,” I jostle suddenly.

Karkat just started putting everything on the table—the nice one we worked together to buy so we had somewhere to play his tabletop games. Though, it also takes up the majority of the small apartment.

“Sure you are. You weren’t even looking at the game, you looked like you were undressing the meal vault with your mind.”

A surprised laugh escapes from me as I get off the couch.

“Food’s ready.”

“Yay! Thank you again, it smells really really good.”

“Mhm.”

We squeeze into the chairs and dig in, it tastes just as good as it smells. I’m honestly pretty lucky Karkat is cool with cooking for me. We used to eat in our rooms, both because of the lack of a table but also because we both preferred eating alone. It’s likely we’re only eating here to get our money’s worth, but there’s still something satisfying about a warm homemade meal over a nice table.

“Kar?”

He only looks up in response, food’s probably keeping him from his usual yelling.

“I got a new game if you want to play with me tonight,” I swallow and continue, “since it’s Friday and whatever.”

He sighs loudly once he’s done chewing.

“Cooking for you and entertaining your screen addiction? Seriously, (Last Name), have I been put on this planet, cursed by the twisted gods who hide their sorry asses among the stars where they know my mortal wrath can’t reach, to be the player 2 at your beck and call?” Despite his long-windedness, his voice is softer than usual, making me smile before I even process what he said–a good sign he’s totally up for a game.

I perk up, “It’s called Heave Ho, I’ve watched other people play it so I got it myself. I think you’ll really like it.”

“If it wasn’t Saturday tomorrow I wouldn’t even think about it.”

“Yay!” I kick him under the table and he kicks me back just as hard. “This is super fuckin’ good by the way, I’d eat this every night.”

“I only followed a recipe, you don’t have to slobber all over my bulge about it.”

“Gross, in front of my chicken?”

_________________

“Could you! Fucking! Hold on for one second! Do you think you’re capable of doing that?”

“Hahah-I’m trying, I’m trying! I swear to god the button is unpressing its-hahaha-elf!”

“It’s not ‘unpressing’ itself you’re CLEARLY letting go–just fucking–HOLD ME UP!”

“I AM! What! Pfft bahaha-you don’t think I’m doing everything I can?”

“You’re swinging in the wrong direction–(NAME) YOU–AGH-”

A short “splat” noise follows and I erupt in laughter. Karkat throws his head backwards on the couch and groans sounds of anguish into his hands. I can’t help putting down my controller, my character dying as a result, and holding my sides to try and keep them from splitting.

“You thought I would like this game?! You thought, no–” he turns so he’s facing me on the couch, “(Name) you thought,” he grabs me by both arms, which I don’t really process because I’m still laughing “You thought there was some way in ever-loving Hell we could play this game without me bursting a fucking blood vessel and dying here in this room right now?!”

“Sto-op!” I can only manage to squeal between gasps at air in my laughter. “I can’t–I can’t,”

“Literally the most hopeless display at cooperative gameplay I’ve ever fucking seen and you make me play every damn game you buy.” He lets go of me and I fall backwards onto the arm of the couch, still giggling away. Distantly, I can hear him also laughing. It fills me with accomplishment, knowing I chose a game he would enjoy. I knew this game would be ragey, but it’s also primarily skill-based. As long as he knows I’m trying, which he can trust from how often we play together, he’ll have a good time.

Finally I can manage one big gulp of air before I’m back in position. He was holding his head up with one hand, massaging the bridge of his nose, surely trying to hide the sharp-toothed grin he can’t shake. I knock my shoulder into his to snap him out, and after collecting himself he retaliates with enough strength to nearly push me off the couch. I rebound and get comfortable again, sitting cross-legged with one leg over his.

“We. Just-“ I giggle “-need to regroup.”

“Oh really? Oh really, is that all?”

“Stop it—I’m being so real Karkat I might piss if you make me laugh again don’t even test me. Pick up the controller, we can do this.”

“No, we have to do this. We’re going to beat this level.”

“YES! That’s the spirit.”

We muse over our plan a little more. Deciding how exactly we should angle our characters to achieve the perfect toss—right into the goal. A couple more failed attempts go by calmly, “all part of the plan” I repeat like a mantra.

A calculated silence falls over the apartment. Blue hour is far from over and the windows we forgot to close display a full dark scene of a quiet cityscape. Some bright apartments far away are blinking sleepily.

“FUCKING-“

“No no no, focus-“

Our characters swing, the game music hums idly, our characters stare blankly back at us.

We launch ourselves at the goal.

Everything is still.

A successful note starts to ring.

“YES HOLY SHIT!”

“Oh my god!”

We both start to pump the air with a wave accomplishment washing over us. Confetti in the game starts to fall and I turn to look at Karkat-

-at the same time he turns to look at me.

Both our smiles drop to surprise and a beat goes by. I push myself off of him and he takes his hand off from my back—

“I’m sorry, sorry, I didn’t realize I was so close-” I start.

“No- you’re fine, I didn’t… Notice. I wasn’t paying attention, sorry.”

We both nervously laugh. The soundtrack went quiet, briefly, before it automatically moved onto the next level with a funny sound effect.

What.

The FUCK–why was I–I had somehow managed to get myself half on top of Karkat while we played–and then when we looked at each other we were so close- and what the fuck he stared at me I think? How long did we look at each other? What the fuck was that? And his arm, I can’t-

“Oh man! We left the blinds open, let me just close them really quick.” I stand up, speeding without really thinking about it, to the window.

“(Name)?” Nope. Ignoring that.

I prop myself up by two arms over the back of the couch, moving so rigidly it nearly hurts.

“We beat the level! That’s pretty cool! So. Maybe it’s about time y’know we call it a day. Right? Yeah.”

He still doesn’t say anything while I start to pull the switch out of the dock and lock the joycons back in place.

“Um? Sorry, again, I’m just gonna go back to my room. So um! Goodnight!” I robot over to my door.

“What the- (Name)!”

“Oh, and for the food! Thanks again!”

And slam it shut by accident. I don’t hear anything from the other room for a moment, not for the minute or two I strained myself to listen. I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding and slump against the door.

Ever so slowly, I ghost my hand over my mouth.

Why am I freaking out so much?

Next Chapter

Author's Note: Yay! Hope you enjoyed :) I will mayyybe write a second part, bc this is definitely not finished haha. I dont know the best x reader tags! if you're willing to help me out id love to know :3

#homestuck x reader #karkat x reader #po writes #karkat vantas x reader

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a-writers-blurbs · 4 months

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A bit of a disclaimer ig...

Hi guys,

This is going to be a long post that sounds slightly rant-y & I'm going to apologize in advance for that. I am going to make exactly ONE post (this one) about this topic, and I will not be discussing it further or posting about it again. I will also not be responding to any negative comments but deleting them instead.

These are my personal opinions and [...not *trying* to sound rude, but there's no other way to say it...] a bunch of random people online aren't going to change my opinions.

My husband is an artist. He does canvas painting & draws comic books (think anti-hero dark horse). I paint furniture (kinda mini murals) & make chibi drawings. I've also been writing fanfiction since the late 90s.

That being said, this post is about AI art.

I get the controversy, I do. But I've heard this argument before, when fanfiction became more popularized. The whole "You're just stealing someone else's work & changing it up to call it your own" is (at its core) the same argument against AI. The only difference is that instead of you yourself changing it, you're allowing a machine to do it.

But I digress...

Over the last week, I have received several messages about my use of AI art. First & foremost, my stuff is appropriately tagged as AI.

Second, I don't sell or advertise these pictures in any way. In fact, none of them have been posted anywhere but here (as of 6/1/24).

Third, and probably most important, I DONT MAKE THEM FOR YALL. Fanfiction & fanart are a HOBBY. It is something that I do because I enjoy it and it destresses me. I DO NOT do it, hoping I'll get 1000s of followers, views, likes, etc. Every story I write, I print & bind for my library. I will now be doing the same with my AI pictures.

I have a condition that has a symptom called Maladaptive Daydreaming. Because of this, my head is full of an alarming amount of excruciatingly detailed & unrealistic scenarios and images. (To the point that it affects my everyday life).

I can't necessarily recreate the images in my mind without help & the only way to get rid of the random scenarios is to write them out. So I do write them. And now I use AI to help me get a BASE image. I do still go in myself and edit/redraw parts of each generated image to fit them to the characters I want them to represent. I do thus using digital art.

Granted, there's a whole other group of people that think digital art isn't real art... but that's a discussion for another day. Anyway...

TLDR:

I use AI art & will continue to despite some people's dislike. I will continue to delete any and all comments left publicly that are malicious, rude, or condescending. My stories & are are for me. If others enjoy it, great, that's freaking awesome. If not, there are literally thousands of other fanfic authors you can follow instead of me.

Again, I apologize, I know this sounds rude. But I need to be 100% transparent on this one. I am extremely grateful for every folllower & reader I have. I won't lie & say comments/positive interaction isn't a serotonin boost because it is. Yall also give me more motivation to actually complete a story vs. moving on to the next idea. But I'm not going to change the way I do things to appease someone I don't even know.

This is one of the few things I enjoy doing in my free time & have been doing it for 25 years now, and in the last 5 or so years ALL fandoms have gotten so toxic its hard to enjoy anything anymore. Last time it got like this, I simply stopped posting. I'd rather not do that again, but if people (who aren't even following me) don't leave me alone, I'll probably have to do it again, sadly.

But for now, hopefully this post will give people with different opinions to go ahead and block me from their feed. We're not going to agree so instead of wasting energy arguing, let's keep the peace & agree to stay off if each others feeds.

I won't judge you on your idea that you feel it's your duty to harass people over their choices & you won't judge me for enjoying something. 😉

Thank you for listening. Love yall & and I hope your day is blessed!

#fanfic #kagome higurashi #lord sesshomaru #sesshomaru #sesshomaru x kagome #sesshomaru's mother #sesskag #sesskag fanfiction #sesskag fic #sesskag monthly prompt #ai #ai generated #ai art

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megarax-ponyo · 4 months

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I'm sorry for bringing this up, but it's about your Welcome Home AU Would you be comfortable with someone continuing or taking heavy inspiration from your au? I know that you are most likely not going to continue it so I was just curious how comfortable you would be with someone continuing the AU or taking inspiration from it, and if so, would you like credit or not? Do what makes you happy, I hope that some day the Welcome Home Fandom (which I'm apart of) can learn to be less toxic. <3 <3 <3 Love your art <3 <3 <3

Before starting everything I think about it, I thank you very much for the importance of the Au... I thought it was not so loved if I am very honest with everyone. Because of everything they have told me and "exposed" me to being the worst when really nothing is like that... it made me believe that no one liked what I did with my Au

It is comforting for me to know and read these beautiful words ❤

Okay... look, most of you know that I hardly express what I think or feel on the internet, since I love being anonymous and a total mystery

But I have to clarify this for people who follow me here on Tumblr or people who follow me on other networks At once I'm apologizing, because I will be very direct and sharp with my answer, to a point where it may sound somewhat rude, but the intention really is to "cut everything clean" so that people don't come later hungry or opportunistic to want to take advantage of my idea

To avoid further detours - The answer is NO

I will specify myself better - I am not going to give ANYONE my Au. More than anything because this is an idea that cost me a lot to polish and I am proud of what I have created, I am not going to leave it to someone since it could ruin the story or turn it into a more horrifying spectacle than what I had already raised

Now making it clear that I will not let ANYONE continue my story If someone is inspired by my story, the kindest or most respectful thing they can do is give me credit that the original idea is mine, since they can inspire you and many people have been inspired by my story, but if more people think about doing it, I ask them I strongly recommend that you give credit to the person you based your story on (in this case me)

In short, YES, I would like to receive credit for it and NO, I do not feel AT ALL COMFORTABLE that someone continues my story

Since I plan to do two things, that my story stays as long as I left it and that the concept can be used for random drawings in the future

Or redo the story with different characters but much softer, since really the original concept of my story is very hard to see, even for adult people

Again, I'm sorry to be crudely honest but I have to be because there will always be people who want to take advantage of it, so you always have to make things clear from the beginning if you want to avoid problems in the future

For now I want to start another project that is much more lively and fun, I will leave aside the dark and cryptic stories for the moment, it also means that I want to start off on the right foot in another Fandom A Fandom that has really shown me support and I like it Because in WH they have only classified me in the worst ways and many artists blocked me without me doing something wrong... more than just writing a dark story

Adding that Fadom is being consumed by toxicity and cancellations all the time... like you really don't want to continue in a community like this, Where everyone is in a pitched war to see who is the worst

That's why I preferred to leave the war in peace, Just leave because I was tired of everyone seeing me as a monster or something worse... *Sigh*

Anyway - I don't like showing my feelings much on the internet, since I think it's useless So I'll leave it here and I hope my answer has been very clear about my decision with my story

Very soon I will return with new things and fresh drawings ✨❤ I love you all and thank you for your support of my work ❤✨

#meganixart #welcome home arg #send me asks #answered asks #ask me anything #welcome home #welcome home au #send asks #ask #welcome home fandom #my stuff #feel free to ask #welcome home puppet show

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malsiesdiary · 13 days

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Starting now, anons will be off. I will also no longer be responding to Nogitsune or Darach. Unlike them, I actually choose peace over dealing with drama on a daily basis. I will be letting law enforcement deal with everything from now until it’s dealt with.

Nogitsune can keep bashing my dog because at the end of the day it just proves to the police that she has serious mental issues to be bullying and bashing an innocent animal. And will draw concern over the care of her own pets, since she is wishing death on my dog by saying for me to sit on it, wishing him to be hit by a car, etc…

I have never sat here and badmouthed her daughter. I’ve only bashed HER parenting skills, (because she smokes weed, drinks, gives her kid meds to make her sleep when she’s “annoyed with her being awake,” etc. Plus I have proof she likes to start drama with other people as well.

I am way more mature than her or Darach will ever be, as unlike them, I do not believe in dragging an innocent animal or a child into an online quarrel. Her and Darach bashing my dog just proves her maturity level and also proves she’s the instigator. As I said last night, I could say things to her in response to her bullying that would make her mad enough she would come to my house. But unlike her, I have enough self control not to tear innocent beings down like she has done to me and Allison

SHE sent anons to MY blog starting all of this when me and Allison became friends and this blog proves that. Not to mention I sent TWO anons and she bashed me about 40+ times over two anons. And Allison isn’t the one sending Nogitsune anons. It’s her friend Darach trying to stir crap up. She’s gonna feel pretty stupid when the truth comes out. Darach is known for doing this. I’ve known her since 2019, and she even has admitted to impersonating myself and others just to watch people squirm and continue to fight.

But anyways. Idc what they say about me. Accuse my boyfriend of cheating. He never has had sex with another girl and that’s all that matters to me. My boyfriend also never sent nudes. You do realize girls message me and tell me shit Zack’s doing sometimes to try and break us up and because of me being cheated on for 7 years by my ex, it’s MY insecurities!

I mean you wanna talk about my dude cheating yet you told me your dude has cheated on you and you have DEFINITELY cheated on him. Nobody’s relationship is perfect. At least my man works to provide for his family. At least my man buys me birthday presents, Christmas presents, etc and takes care of me. At least me and my man have our relationship status posted on FB so the world knows we love each other, while your FB says “single.”

So don’t come at me. I’m not jealous of you or Darach. Both of you live with someone because you can’t afford your own place. Both of you have dumb jobs that I’d never want. (I love my job and I’m going to college soon to become a dog trainer.) You’re both bigger than me. Nogitsune doesn’t drive or have a car. I don’t either but I still afforded an EBike. And I hate driving anyways. So what do you think I’d be jealous of? You both literally have nothing for me to be jealous of. You have no friends irl so you have to call each other “bestie.” Your lives are just sad.

And as for Darach, I’m not blacklisted at any airlines. If I was, my mother wouldn’t have been able to spend $600 and bought me a plane ticket. Also it’s only considered a terroristic threat if I made an actual threat to do something. Making a statement wishing you’d be paralyzed isn’t threatening anything. I didnt threaten you, and wouldn’t. Also you can look it up online, it’s not illegal for me to say that. However, it is illegal to do what you have done. Like let’s be realistic. You sent in false reports and had the swat team at my motel room for bs lies. Not to mention you wishing I’d walk out in traffic (which is just as bad as what I said to you, only it’s a plane instead of a car.) You have told me to “Go Kurt Cobain myself.” Wishing death on my dog. Threatening to eat my dog. And so much more. And sweety go call McDonalds go call Rover. Because you’ll just get yourself in trouble. The only way you’d be able to is if you had photo evidence of me abusing an animal and that’s something I’d never do. And Zack has worked at McDonalds for 2 years. You have nothing on him either. However I have proof that you made a video on Tiktok. I have proof of you posting photos of you in the parking lot of your job, and just two weeks ago you told me what airline you work at. Or did you just forget that? At least I’ve never done anything to you like you have me. I wished you paralyzed so I didn’t have to deal with you and your drama starting friend anymore. And also making fun of breast cancer shows what type of person you are to your job as well. So I think I will in fact show them how you treat me and have treated me for many years. Admitting to making accounts to mess with and impersonate me (which is also illegal.) So get over yourself Darach and stop pretending you haven’t done anything to get me angry enough to say the things I say. I don’t go off on people without reason. P E R I O D

Anyways while I continue to ignore you guys after today, please continue to say whatever you’d like about me to make your insecure self feel better. I will continue to be happy with my life and enjoy being friends with Allison while you two jealous twits keep watching our blogs and having something to say about us.

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wyrdle · 3 months

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Any ideas you got Zenkichi for the au

For the one where Shuji's a cranky old man without joining Kirijo group and ends up hiring Takuto as an assistant? Not really, no.

spoilers abound

Though, for that AU, I reckon things turn out the same for Takuto and his palace. There wouldn't be as much of a personal connection between him and the PTs, but I reckon Ren and gang would still beat him up and steal his heart about similarly as per canon, so any Zenkichi meetups would come after that.

Off-topic but, I wonder if Shuji's delusions would've resulted in a Palace, or at least have influenced/meshed with Takuto's. (Unlikely that he has a palace, mostly because he doesn't really influence others? If he did he'd have a palace alike Tartarus I think.) Maybe, because of his involvement, areas of Takuto's palace that are dishevelled and imperfect (Eg. the backrooms/tv rooms/will seed rooms) could be reminiscent of Tartarus or the insides of a church, more pronounced "ugliness" of what Maruki's doing (AKA meta "killing and rebirth" of people via warping of their cognitions, just as people like Shuji and Sumire want. A kinder death.)

Regardless, Shuji would be there defending Takuto as hard as Sumire did initially, conscious about the brainwashing, and desiring it anyway. Though I don't think he'd have a persona.... Not sure tbh. Shuji seems to "rebel" against the concept of life/living, so maybe whatever persona relating to death/peaceful non-existence would be his weapon to defend Maruki. Fun times! (You can probably tell that much of this au was more for drawing parallels between Shuji and Takuto, than any semblance of a proper AU story lol)

Post Maruki's defeat, I reckon both men would need time apart. Primarily Takuto away from Shuji, since Shuji was and still is enabling him and his delusions of an ideal reality. Takuto probably gets help and support from other friends and professionals, Shuji though..... I have no idea. This guy is written to be a tragic mess of a human being, with nihilism and associated ills at his core. Realistically, no one is incapable of healing/growth, but Shuji seems written to be otherwise (I enjoy thinking of him and his delusions creating an empty palace, void of heart. Don't spoil me, but I think this is supposedly how Kuon Ichinose's written lmao 😂 I look forward to meeting her properly.) Shuji is happiest when he's dead, basically. If being with Takuto did change anything for the better in terms of him trying to continue living, then maybe he'd be around long enough to meet Zenkichi alongside Takuto lol.

LOL I know this ask was about zenkichi but I admittedly haven't finished strikers (spoiled myself quite completely on Zenkichi though), and am admittedly uh. Big Shuji Fan. I like thinking how disastrously tragic he is, so apologies for the extreme bias 😂

Edit: I realise how this answer literally doesn't even address zenkichi 😂 Maybe I threw him in the polycule because werewolf d-

Ahem.

cat boy shuji attack

#asks #lol #sorry anon you came here for wolf man #i gave you pathetic pun man instead #well the werewolf gets summoned by the moon yknwo #dfjkgsndfg sorry #shuji ikutsuki #takuto maruki #zenkicihi hasegawa

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kaythetrashcan · 1 year

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A second perspective of my fanfic "Fatherly hug". I thought it would be fun to write smt like this.

Here's the original post:

A man and a monster

William was sitting in his car, nervously tapping on the steering wheel. 'It will be over soon. And I can continue my experiments in peace.' He took a deep breath, turned of the engine and got out. Attempting to forget the several nights where his animatronics almost bit his arm off, he looked around.

He found himself in front of a small suburban house. The garden was tiny but well kept. Building had a pleasant lavender shade and the door had several flowers handpainted on them. 'He's getting too close. How can I know what he'll do? I need to get rid of him.'

William took another deep breath. 'He's a monster anyways. H-he deserves this,' he tried to convince himself.

He put on a smile, straightened his back and rang the bell. "Coming!" the resident of the house shouted. William waited for a bit before the door opened.

"Father?" said the young man at the door.

"Hello Michael." He smiled.

William continued to smilen despite memories flooding his head. Memories he wished didn't exist. 'He's a monster, he's a monster, he's a monster...' he repeated to himself. 'Let's just concentrate on the task at hand.'

"I heard you got your degree. Congratulations!" William explained. "Um... Thanks?"

He continued: "You must be looking for a job then?"

"Yes, I am." Mike replied.

"Well, do I have a an opportunity for you."

"What?"

"We're looking for technician for the evening shift. You'd be perfect," he lied. Michael never took interest in anything mechanical, preferring to draw from a very early age. A simple crayon drawing of Fredbear and Bonnie popped into William's head.

Michael didn't answer for a while.

"Not sure?" he prompted the young man..

"I'm still thinking it over. I doubt it's a job for me."

'Damn it,' William cursed. 'I guess I'll have to try a little harder.'

"Don't worry, you don't need any experience," he added. "It's really simple. And a great opportunity to expand your horizons." William laughed a bit to seem more genuine.

Mike still didn't look swayed. 'I guess it a time for my trump card.'

"And if that won't convince you, maybe your sister will."

"Abby? But she's been miss-"

"She's there. I can't help her but you can," William said quietly.

Even if it wasn't the truth, he knew Michael would do anything for his little sister. He remembered Mike teaching her to walk and laughing when she toddled to him, hugging her every time. He remembered his still face, covered in sparkly pink make-up, as Elizabeth tried to make him look "pretty". He remembered the desperate letters and calls, begging him to see his sister, to somehow make up for his actions.

And his plan worked, he could see it in his face. "I accept. I'll do anything to help her."

"I knew you wouldn't disappoint me," William smiled, ignoring the sudden pain in his gut. "Please just fill out these documents and deliver them to me tommorow. Your shift will start on Monday." "Alright," Mike agreed, mindlessly taking the papers out of his hands.

Now was time for the final step of his plan. 'Just to convince him further.'

"And Michael?"

"Yes, father?"

He pulled Mike into a hug. "I love you, Michael," he added to be even more believable.

'I haven't hugged my children since...' he got lost in thought. Mike took a bit to react, before wrapping his arms tightly around him, squeezing his chest. William stiffened as his son replied.

"I love you too, dad."

#fnaf 5 #fnaf sl #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #william afton #michael afton

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jodilin65 · 30 years

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SATURDAY, APRIL 30, 1994 Got up at 7:30 and now I’m going to go change all the calendars.

Tom’s still sick, but he’s in the shower now. After he’ll be going to his sister Mary’s to fix a light on her car.

Tom’s youngest brother Steven is getting married in Fresno, so Mary and his parents and going to drive out.

Later…

What a bummer that the pool’s too cold. I could really go for a swim now, and they’re definitely gone next door. It’s been a very peaceful quiet day.

I just harvested a bunch of lettuce, which I gotta go put in a baggy now.

I talked to Tammy. They’re operating on Bill tomorrow morning. I sent Tammy a letter and Bill a get-well note with a few flower drawings.

Tom’s till fixing Mary’s car.

Oh! Also, I called Nervous with the hopes that if Crystal were still there I’d get her on the phone and tape her. I was lucky cuz she is still there and man did she go off on me! It was so funny and she reminds me of Tracy K. If she’s the clingy, desperate type she sounds to be, she could hold Nervous hostage and beat the shit out of him. She sounds so mean. He sounded absolutely depressed and terrified. I think she’s got to be an alkie or a druggie or both, besides nuts. I hate to say this, but they deserve each other. I can picture her threatening and scaring him into submission and beating the hell out of him. I think the only reason they’re still together is cuz she’s got him in the palm of his hand and he’s terrified of her. Anyway, I’ll have a few great edits. I left the 30 seconds or so of her screaming at me on Andy’s machine. He’ll love it.

Later…

I just squished the lettuce into a big baggy. There sure is a lot out there. The carrots are doing well, but it’ll be another 3 weeks or so before they’re ready to be pulled up.

Now, thanks to Crystal, I am finally motivated to do some editing after quite a while.

Later…

Tom’s home now. I haven’t edited Crystal yet, but I’m all set to go. First I had to put her on my current convo tape and ditch a very old dead tape. One that I can’t record onto cuz what’s previously on it doesn’t get erased. Well, guess I will go edit her now.

Later…

I just edited Crystal. Yup, pretty funny.

Tom’s on the phone now talking to his brother. He says he feels better, but I have a feeling sex is out for this weekend. I also have a feeling that the sex will be a continuous cycle where I cry out for needing more, he gives in for a while, then backs off. We’ll see. I’m not going to keep “reminding” him, though.

Later…

I just began taping the Tonya and Nancy story.

Tom’s eating now and will probably be going to bed.

I’m 12 days away from my period, so I’m getting hornier and more bloated. I wish every day was like right after my period. It seems I only have about 3-5 days where I’m not so watery and gassed out. Tomorrow we’re going to the grocery store and I’m getting water pills. And if you can’t take it with asthma or Theodur - tough!

I’m in luck after all as far as sex goes. Tom says he’ll definitely be non-contagious tomorrow and that I won’t be horny this month cuz he’s going to wear me out. Cool!

Guess I will go watch the movie while it’s on. I just like to zip through the commercials, but I don’t feel like doing anything else right now.

A Note from Tom - 4/26/1994

Jodi,

So, you want me to write in this journal. You know, this well be over very soon and we’ll be heading home. Until then I well try to think of more things to write. This is a strange place for a dentist. I guess they expect you to go shopping then rent a few movies and have your teeth cleaned.

FRIDAY, APRIL 29, 1994 I just called Tammy. Things are definitely at their shittiest. Next week they’re removing and biopsying Bill’s spleen.

Tom came home early with a cold. Ten minutes before he did, I had a feeling about that. He’s laying down now. I hope I don’t catch it, although I never caught his last cold. I’ve been very lucky for over a year now.

I finished typing journal #2 and began #3.

Tom brought home more stamps from work (canceled). I’ve split them up between Kim and my parents.

Got 3 letters today from Bob. He asked if I remembered the date we met, and that he could. It took a while, but I found out we met on 8/25/91 in journal #5.

I also thought of a clever idea for numbering my journals last night. My perma-marker. You know that if I wrote with this pen, especially on those that aren’t cloth, it’d smear off. This pen’s permanent and won’t smudge off. For some journals, I kept their sticker numbers on cuz the color of their binders was too dark and the pen wouldn’t show up.

Tomorrow night there’s to be a movie with those ice skaters Tonya Harding and Nancy Kerrigan. It oughta be pretty entertaining. They did a damn good job with getting Tonya and Nancy look-a-likes. It seems so many skaters, dancers and gymnasts look the same. Except for topless dancers in the clubs I danced in. They all come in a wide variety of looks and sizes.

Tom showed me something neat the computer can do with journals 1 and 2. It shows how many characters, pages, words and minutes I spent typing each one. I think #2 was 103 thousand and something characters. 19,500 words and I believe the minutes were, oh I forgot, but they were in the 5 digits. It may be around 50 hours or so that I worked on it. Eventually, I’ll add a summary information (that’s what it’s called) list of them, here in this book. Or somewhere.

Now I want to go finish my coffee and have a smoke.

Later…

Maybe praying to God as Andy does will work here and there. What tremendous willpower I’ve had with eating today. Only a few bites of spaghetti, a little bit of lettuce with ranch dressing and 2 pieces of bread. Gone down 2 pounds, but I must be consistent for a while to get my body to do its thing on its own as it has been since early 1988. I know it’s mostly water, but I can once again speed up my metabolism so I can gorge on whatever I want. As I said before, the use of the pool on a daily basis will help.

These last 2 months I haven’t had to wear a liner for extra discharges mid-cycle. Lucky me but, my tits have been way sorer throughout these last 2 months. I don’t know why. My caffeine intake hasn’t changed. Maybe it’s cuz my last 2 periods were sort of light and half-assed. It’d help if my next one was heavier, but that’d call for extra cramps.

Later…

Gosh, it feels later. It feels like it’s nearly midnight. Well, I got up at 7:30 so I’m starting to tire.

Next Monday I’ll send out letters as well as Mom’s Mother’s Day card and Tammy, Bill’s and my address labels.

I was doing great with eating very little, but I slipped. Let’s see… I had popcorn, a carrot, spaghetti and 2 pieces of cheese. God forbid I may be forgetting anything else. I’m soooo fucking bloated. I don’t dare step on that scale right now.

I will go shut the computer off now and at least lay down for a while. If I fall asleep, OK. If not, that’s OK too.

THURSDAY, APRIL 28, 1994 I was so pissed yesterday. I hate it when politics fuck up my life. There was no mail yesterday cuz Nixon died and was buried yesterday. Who cares about this impeached president who never did anything for us? Plus, this criminal had a funeral fit for a king. I just hope there’s mail today.

Andy’s friend Sarah may play Sabrina. He’s going to talk to her about it and if she agrees to it, I’ll give Fran her number.

For the first time in a while, I’m bummed, worried, and anxious. My weight’s going up and I just can’t stop eating. I’m hungry all the time. I tried to restrain myself and talk myself out of it, but before writing I ate a whole lasagna TV dinner and a big marshmallow/rice bar. I just can’t stop eating. I weigh 104 pounds and I doubt this scale’s even right. I’d say I’m more like 107-110. Being barely 5’ it doesn’t take much to see and feel it. I feel like a blimp. My waist is a sickening 27. I want it back to a 24. I want to lose 3” all around and weigh 95. Oh God, please give me the strength to not eat for at least two days. Please?

On the lighter side and better side of things, I got a letter from Kim today and a very nice one from my mom, too. Finally!

No concerts across the street and it looks as if they may go away this weekend next door.

I’m almost done typing up Journal #2.

Andy called me with Sarah on the line. Then, I called Fran and she played Sabrina.

I talked to Tammy who still doesn’t know much about Bill. She says to call her tomorrow night. Then, she hopes to know the whole story.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 27, 1994 The dentist told me yesterday not to do anything about my teeth unless it hurts. That wasn’t too big of a deal, thank God. He said it could bother me soon or years from now. Hopefully, it will stay right where it is, but I have a feeling that’s wishful thinking.

Up ahead a few pages Tom wrote a quick note. I love how he used the word “well” twice when he meant to use the word “will.” He says that’s a common mistake of his. He says the word “will” like “well.” He says all his short i’s as short e’s. That’s probably where that mistake comes from.

Damn, it’s chilly out! This is weird for this time of year. It’ll be in the low 70s until Sunday.

Just put letters out to Bob, Kim, Fran and my parents who will never call or write.

Tammy says they still have no diagnosis on Bill.

Well, that’s pretty much up to date. Been typing journal #2 up a lot and I hope to finish it today. Got 1 Bob letter yesterday which began BOL #8. That’s in #72 as I said before. Going to go type #2 now.

Oh! One more thing. I do believe Andy will be receiving “Sabrina’s” letter. You know, from Fran. He says he’s sending me one too, but I’ll have to see that to believe that.

How many Bob letters will I get today?

TUESDAY, APRIL 26, 1994 I am in the car now on my way to the dentist. I’m not looking forward to this, but hopefully, I won’t be in for too big of an ordeal.

I can blame Tom for my sloppy writing and I just did. I jokingly said we must be hitting air pockets (like in a plane). We still have a long drive ahead. Bell Road is way the hell out there. We’re driving by one of my favorite mountains now.

Later…

I am home now and Tom ran out to pick up my meds. He oughta be back any minute.

When he returns, we’re going to fool around, then later I’ll write about the dentist, Fran and whatever.

MONDAY, APRIL 25, 1994 Yesterday and today have been very busy days. Yesterday was the biggest breakthrough ever in organizing the back room. It looks better than ever in there. We put the twin bed at the end of the room, and it looks good.

I also talked to Fran and Tammy. Tammy still doesn’t know too much.

I typed some letters and taught me another great thing on the computer that I wish I’d known all along. There’s this dictionary that highlights and corrects misspelled words.

Today I really had my work cut out for me. I began at 7:30 AM right after Tom left and didn’t finish till nearly noon. I washed rugs, sheets, towels, etc. Did the dishes, dusted, vacuumed, washed the table, counters and stove, cleaned the bathroom and changed the pig’s cage. Now I really need to repolish my nails and shave, but I’m too lazy now.

Got 3 letters from Bob today with beautiful drawings on both his envelopes and letters. Beautiful flowers and one with 2 turtles that were awesome. Great idea for me to try. I’ve learned a lot from him.

Book of Letters #7 is finished. On the last few pages, I glued in poems. Like 5 of them as well as 3 parts of his envelopes. I printed a copy of his poems for him, too, cuz I know he likes to see them typed up. BOL #8 will be in #72. It’ll go quite fast if his letters keep pouring in as they have.

He says they’re soon to be transferring him to Gardner, MA. Great. I just pre-addressed about 12 envelopes to him. Guess he can get out in the year 2000. Only 6 years away, but to him, it must feel like 6000.

SUNDAY, APRIL 24, 1994 I wish I could know where each entry date was to be on each page of all the journals I have. If I could know this I’d stick in all the address labels. Like I said before, when I order Tammy and Bill’s address labels, I’ll then order my own with his last name. I’ll use those labels for the covers of each journal (when I’m officially married) and for all my mail and letters, except Fran’s. After we’re married there’ll be tons of labels left with my maiden name so I’ll use those for entry date separators.

Tom just came into the room and I believe it’s now playtime!

Later…

We played around for a while and now he’s sorting through boxes in the back room. Sex is better on a waterbed. It makes it easier to get into certain positions.

This is the last day of his vacation, but it’s been a good one. He’s been so happy and there’s been much more lovemaking.

A little while ago I stuck some address labels on different envelopes. I have 13 each for Kim, Bob and my parents. I used up all the cloud/rainbows and air balloons for my parents and I have 17 music labels left. Fran will get all the gold-trimmed ones, like the one in the front cover of my current journal. So it looks like I’ll use day separators in this order: music, silver prisms, Rose pond/seashells/river, and rainbow last.

SATURDAY, APRIL 23, 1994 Shortly after I last wrote, I fell asleep and got up at 7 AM yesterday.

We completed the waterbed a couple of hours later. It’s sooo nice and sooo comfy.

Yesterday was a very lucky day for me. We went to one bookstore where I wasn’t too impressed. Then, the second one was like oh my God!!! I got 8 journals for $25. Normally 8 of them cost $60. What luck, huh? They were all $2.98 and #66 and #67 are dreams come true with a real piano. (not a drawing) Most covers are drawings and designs. If I remember right, the 3 cat books and 2 dog books are my first with pictures of real live animals. I was going to get a real live horse cover, but I forgot. Other things on the covers of #66 - #73 are sheet music, guitars, drums, ballet slippers, and flowers.

Then, after I came home, the mailman came and there were 6 letters! And 2 of them were from Kim. The others were from none other than Bob. That’s 12 letters from Monday-Friday! The most I ever got in under a week. Same with the journals. The most I ever got at once is 3. No. Once I got 5.

Copying these 12 letters has taken up 70 pages. If I’d copied Bob’s letter to Kim and all Bob’s poems, it’d been 100-110. There are 30 pages left in Book of Letters #7, then Book of Letters #8 will be Journal #72.

Later…

Just sitting here waiting to see if the mailman delivers another slew of Bob letters.

I forgot to mention that yesterday we got a mattress pad. It’s much softer and more comfortable than what I had on the one I had back east. We also got a nice set of sheets.

Wait till I tell Andy about the bed, journals, and letters. The only one I haven’t told is Tammy cuz now’s certainly not the time.

I typed some letters, but I need to type more. I’ve got time since there’s no mail till Monday. I haven’t typed #2 (the current one I’m typing) onto my floppy disk, so I may go do that.

Later…

No mail today, but I typed more letters and some of #2.

Tom went to the racetrack today but didn’t win. He’s now reading more on how to print out pictures from videos. I can’t wait till I learn how to do this cuz when I do, I’ll be having a field day with different videos.

This will sound crazy, but it works. I got the idea from a health book. Guess what I had smothered all over my hair? Mayonnaise. Yup, it’s a cheap and great way to condition the hair. Also the nails, nail cuticles and skin.

FRIDAY, APRIL 22, 1994 I fell asleep yesterday at 4 PM and got up at 9 PM, therefore I’m still tired.

Fran left a message and he’s losing his phone again from the sound of it. Yeah, I believe that. He does that here and there.

The waterbed is almost all set up. All we have to do is fill it and set the headboard on. Tom went to bed about an hour ago and we’re going to fill it when it gets light out. This way we don’t get bugs.

We got the bombs yesterday when we went food shopping, so soon it’s bye-bye spiders.

God, my stomach is major gassed out. That’s what happens when I don’t get enough sleep.

I’m going to listen to music now, then I’ll write more.

Later…

Well, it doesn’t look as if I’ll be falling back asleep anytime soon, so I oughta write a little.

Bad news for the pool - it was 100º yesterday, today’s to be 98º, Saturday 83º, and on Sunday only 78º. This is going to cause a setback. Monday they say we’re in for T-storms.

Today we need to go out to get a mattress pad. Tom thought he had one from when he had his waterbed, but he thought wrong.

Yesterday I got another supply of 100 stamped envelopes and I pre-addressed some. For now, I think I shall go type some letters.

THURSDAY, APRIL 21, 1994 I had quite a busy day yesterday and today. First of all, this is the best pen I’ve ever had. It’s a rolling ball marker, not a felt tip. It glides so easily, giving me fine lines with no inkblots.

Shortly after I last wrote yesterday, we went and I picked out my waterbed. It’s got black padding all around it. There are no shelves or drawers, but that’s OK cuz in time I intend to add on the matching bureau. At the head of the bed, where the shelves usually are, there’s black padding that slants upward so I can sit up and read or write. It’s a king-size and costs $305.

The matching bureau has black padded drawers and the top surface of it is all mirrored. Then there’s a mirror extending upward with black padding around its sides. It’s really a sharp set and it’s totally me.

His brother David came over with his truck, got Tom and then went and picked it up. Tom’s got some of it assembled, but he had to stop to do some plumbing at his sister Mary’s house. I’m going to sleep in his bed cuz it won’t be done until tomorrow.

I’ll write more about it later, but before I sign off - I went swimming today and yesterday and it was great!

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 20, 1994 I have some news that’s really going to send shock waves through the pages of this book, especially if it could feel. Well, I had a feeling and I foresaw this day coming by 1996 tops and it has finally arrived. It just didn’t arrive for the reasons I thought it would (by me building up a nest egg from singing). Well, I’m off SS and SSI! Got the news in the mail yesterday. My first initial reaction, which was normal, was to panic cuz this had been my safety net since 1986 and old habits die hard.

I said to Tom, who loves me rich, poor, or average, “I guess cuz we have each other I don’t need a safety net.”

Then he said, “But, you’re not exactly walking a tightrope anymore.”

That’s true. I got a life. I’m just not an emotionally mixed-up little girl anymore who needs mommy and daddy and SS every day of her life.

I’m still covered medically by Medicaid and Tom said that if they stopped it tomorrow, he’d marry me tomorrow. How sweet he is and I trust him so much after knowing him for a year. He also brought up a good point. He said that I could get a part-time job or do whatever I wanted and not have to worry about taxes.

What a life promotion this feels like to me. I really thought for the longest time that unless I got rich, I’d be on it for the rest of my life.

Between today and yesterday, I got 6 letters from Bob! That’s a lot of letters, huh? When I began to copy all of them, there were 99 pages left in the book. Now there are 55 left.

Now here’s my bad news. Bill’s in the hospital, according to Tammy, and it has just been found out that he has leukemia. This is just horrible! That sister of mine has also been through enough shit in her life and she doesn’t need this. If worse comes to worst, how’s she going to manage? She’s never been alone even a day in her life even though she’s 36. How would she be able to keep the kids and support them, let alone her own self? She’s a smart person who can learn very well, but she has no job skills.

Tom’s been such a love and such great support and he spoke to her, too. He said he’ll see that I fly there if I’m needed and wanted. He couldn’t go cuz he’d have to work and even though they hit it off over the phone, he’s still a stranger. I feel so helpless. She was there for me like never before when I needed her the most when I went through the shit I did with the NHA. I want to return the favor in any way I can, be it by being emotionally supportive over the phone or in person, or looking out for the kids. If I do go there, well, it sure won’t be in the way I ever expected. I expected all of them to come here first, so this is a hell of a way to visit, under miserable circumstances, rather than a happy family reunion.

Later…

I just put Piggy back in his cage after playing with him for a bit.

At 9:00 this morning, we may go get that double bed, but that will depend on Tammy first. I’ll call there at 8:00 her time (in 2 hrs) and see if there are any new developments. No one knows yet what type of leukemia it is or what the outcome will be. She’s talked to mom and dad and like Tom said, we’re sure they will do whatever it is that they can.

I spoke with Andy for over an hour after I awoke and that was good for me. We talked about that and I read parts of journal 12. Some of our worst times, like when he lived with me on Woodside Terrace. I wrote some pretty awful stuff about him, but like he said, we now laugh at it all. It’s all in the past and he admits that what I said about him then was the truth.

Andy’s been feeling really doomed lately. Well, Tom believes the world is going to continue for eons, I don’t know, but Andy feels it’s the beginning of the end. He believes in the Bible as well as certain prophecies and believes that the end will be from 1998-2001. Me? I still believe the Bible’s full of hogwash that anyone can write, but everyone’s entitled to their own opinion. What I or someone else assumes, believes, or thinks and feels may or may not be the truth and what will happen for sure.

Later…

In an hour and a half, I will be calling Tammy. I hope for their sake that all is OK. I just sent her a letter since it’s been so hard for her to find time to get into Prodigy.

Yesterday I sent letters to Bob, Tammy, and my parents, and 2 to Kim. Also sent for another 100 stamped envelopes. Today’s letters will go out to Bob, Kim, Fran, and my parents.

Later…

From the looks of it, I have a feeling I’m going to Connecticut. I called the house and Bill’s mother answered. I had a hell of a time understanding her with her accent. She’s from Israel. I spoke with Lisa too, and said I’d come in if need be. She then goes, “Awesome!” I reminded her not to jump the gun, though, as it was too soon to know what was going on.

I called the hospital and he’s in the William B. Backus Hospital. The same one I was before I went to Natchaug. His mother gave me the wrong room number (deliberately?) but I was finally connected to the right one. Tammy answered and said she’d call me back cuz the doctor was there.

I called Ma and told her I’m prepared to go if I have to. I really have a feeling I’ll be going.

Later…

The suspense and the waiting’s killing me. I wish she’d hurry up and call back. If I do go, though, it’s not going to be very pleasant for me, aside from what’s going on with Bill. Walking into that hospital and just being there in the Norwich/Salem area isn’t going to bring back a flood of pleasant memories. How long would I be there if I were to go, beats me.

Earlier I killed 3 spiders in here and now I have a touch of the willies. It’s time to bomb in here and get Operation Spider Storm well underway.

Gosh! I really don’t want to go to CT. Not like this. Not under these circumstances. God, please let Bill be OK if you can hear me.

Later…

Tammy finally called and she doesn’t really need me there. There’s nothing I can really do and I’m not an early morning person, as she herself pointed out.

Tom and I called CompuServe a little while ago and looked up leukemia. There are several different kinds, but they all sound pretty nasty.

Soon Tom and I are going to pick up my prescription and possibly get me a double bed. More than likely we will, seeing that I’m not going to CT.

I polished my nails Wineberry.

MONDAY, APRIL 18, 1994 Boy, did I do a lot all day and all night.

First, let me get the one and only bad news out of the way. For a few hours yesterday, I wanted to go next door and kill those animals. I guess they were running through their sprinkler, but nonetheless, they just wouldn’t shut the fuck up. Don’t their parents realize how close these houses are? I hope to hell Lenore wasn’t kidding when she said she was going to Idaho for the summer and I hope she takes those fucking kids with her.

Andy says I’m 100% ready to be a mom, but boy I’ll tell you, 4 kids is like 400 kids. I can’t deal with more than one kid at once. That means babysitting or listening to them. One’s all I can handle.

Very early yesterday morning Tom really calmed me down and had me feeling a whole lot better. I ended up sleeping from 8 AM - 2 PM.

Tom tried heating the pool, but it was still a bit chilly. We went in the jacuzzi, though, and talked about a Vegas wedding in June.

Later…

Wow! I’ve gotten 42 journals since coming to Arizona and I’ve done 21 since I lived here with Tom.

I got 4 Norah pictures off the video blaster. That thing is so neat. Using her video, we paused some shots of her, then printed them out. Cool, huh? And that’s not even the tip of the iceberg as far as what that thing can do.

This week, probably Wednesday, I’ll be getting a double bed. Also, Tom planned on giving me a bookcase with 6 shelves to use in my room cuz he is going to be building more in the back room. I had a little bookcase with 3 shelves by my bed (they’re both of wood). I had my CD player, CDs, and some knickknacks on 3 plastic shelves. Part of the ones my parents sent me when I first got here. I took those plastic shelves and put them in the back room. I put the CDs, CD player, and knickknacks on the little shelf (3). Then I went into the back room, took all his books off it, and walked the shelves in here, and put them on my bed. I put my journals on them, my alarm clock, pads, pens, markers, and little stuff like that. It wasn’t easy, but I got it in here somehow. Now I’ve got space with the way I’m set up in here for a double bed.

Tom will be getting up in 15 minutes. He’s going to be in for a big surprise when he sees all the rearranging I’ve done. Also that I moved those shelves all by myself, but I have moved lots of furniture before on my own so it’s no big deal.

A double bed sounds so good to me. If I decide I want to use one pillow instead of two, I can throw it on the other side of the bed. Now I throw it on the floor and often trip on it. Also, my comforter is a double size, so then it won’t have its edges dangling on the floor.

I talked to Tammy real quick. Bill’s been really sick with pneumonia.

I’m going to go make some coffee now. Then shortly after Tom gets up, I’m going to bed.

I think I’ve covered everything there is to say. I just hope I get a letter from Bob with the stamps I sent him. It sounds like Bob’s got lots of letters for me. When I talked to him, he was waiting on getting stamps and he said then that he had 5-6 letters to go to me.

It’s wishful thinking, but it’d sure be nice to also get a letter from Cassandra.

They’ve been quiet across the street for a while now, thank God. Yeah, that’s why I was compensated by next door.

Oh. Another thing Tom says the video blaster can do is to make a picture of me and Gloria, or whoever, look like we’re standing side by side. Cool. I know a few suckers who’ll buy that. If I tell them we met, I mean.

Later…

Tom’s up now filling out the application for a loan on the house.

When he got up and came towards my room I said, “How do you like how my room looks?” and he said, “Wow! You moved that all by yourself?”

He agrees it does look nice in here, but I really can’t wait for a double bed, the more I think about it. I want a soft comfortable one and thankfully he has full-size sheets. My full-size fitted sheets are long gone. I ditched them when I got my waterbed back in 1989.

SUNDAY, APRIL 17, 1994 Andy says he’s sending me one of his wacky letters. I got no letters from Bob all week. Now what the hell’s going on? He very well should have those stamps I sent, unless a guard stole them as I said before.

Yesterday the pool pump broke, but what else is new? Tom replaced it today for $240. Also, he got a video blaster for $250. I’ll explain how that works another time.

I’m going to be getting a double bed and other stuff next Wed.

I’m on a serious diet for the first time since early 1988. It’s no big deal, though, compared to having to lose 35 pounds like I did in 1985. I’m 104 and I want to get to 95, but I know I will. I can lose 2 pounds every 2-3 days. Doing it somewhat fast won’t hurt since we’re only talking about 9 pounds. I lost 2 already. I’m going to constantly be swimming, so that’ll make a difference. Tomorrow we’re going swimming.

Today was 100º! Neat, huh? It should be really hot tomorrow, too. That’s it for now.

Later…

I can’t fucking believe this shit! Yesterday I slept only from 8 AM-noon. I’ve been exhausted all day and all night yet I still can’t sleep. Tomorrow we’re going swimming, but how am I going to be able to when I know I’ll have to sleep the day away? How can I go shopping next Wed.? How can I be at my appointment for my teeth? How can I ever be a mother if that ever is in the cards for me? How? How? How? I’m so pissed and frustrated that that’ll only make it even harder for me to get to sleep. I feel like I’m going to be up till 6:00 and sleep till 3:00 or 4:00.

FRIDAY, APRIL 15, 1994 Tom’s going to dust the ceiling fan in the living room and he wants me nowhere near it. Ain’t that sweet? Most people forget or do not give a shit that dust makes me sneeze and wheeze.

My insurance will pay for any work on my teeth, but he said if they didn’t, he’d slap it on his credit card. How nice.

I typed letters to my parents, Kim, and Fran. Tomorrow I’ll do a letter to Bob and I hope he - or someone - writes soon. Hope I get mail tomorrow. I can feel it. I mean, I should. Bob oughta have gotten those stamps I sent. I hope none of the guards steal them.

I finished watching some shows I taped, as well as other stuff that was on. On weeknights at 1:30 AM, they have old reruns of Little House on the Prairie. I think I saw just about every single episode there ever was. Just like with Charlie’s Angels, The Bionic Woman, and Twin Peaks. I miss those days when they’d make over 100 episodes of all series. Now it’s only 10-15 and you see the same few shows over and over.

My tooth is wiggling a bit. Even though it’s a very slight wiggle. I hope I can hold out till the 26th.

THURSDAY, APRIL 14, 1994 Yesterday was a much better day than the day before. I’m due for my period so I’ll have to deal with that, unfortunately.

Got a letter from Kim today and in tomorrow’s mail, letters will be going out to her and Fran. Also, Tom brought home all different kinds of pretty and different canceled stamps. I’m sending them to Tammy to give to the girls.

I had a nice chat with Lisa today. Mainly about her school, the weather, and music.

The pool temp is up to 74º and I got up to my tits today. It won’t be long before I’m swimming away constantly.

We are not going to be able to go to Disneyland yet. It’s just too damn expensive. We may go to Tucson instead.

Andy and I had a nice phone chat today. He asked me to read him every Apr. 13th entry from ’88-‘93. If there was no entry for the 13th I read the closest date. I read up on a few different and funny things. Like how he got the phone bill in the name of Kevin Horne right before I left Springfield for Deerfield, and the multi-page phone bill “Maria S” got in Deerfield. Then we’d laugh at me bitching all about the cold and the snow.

Later…

I forgot to mention that I’m sending Kim 5 pictures I don’t want of Bob’s apartment The one he had before the last one. I’m sending 3 to Bob. One of me, Kim, Phil, and Alex. The other 2 are of me and Kim. I’m sending 5 to Fran. They’re of scenery and shit like that. They’re extras. I had 2 of the same shots of the place on Nettle’s Island that my parents just moved from.

My license came. My hair looks better this time than on the MA license but my face looks huge.

The bad news is that I need one or two teeth pulled. I have an impacted baby tooth. A dentist told me when I was between 20-22 that it may cause trouble when I got older. I really didn’t think so, but sure enough, last night at 3 AM I noticed a funny feeling. I can feel the tooth growing directly behind the one that’s always been there. I guess two of the adult teeth grew at an angle, blocking a baby tooth from getting out and letting the adult tooth come down. I’ve seen X-rays of it up in the jaw.

I called Access, who told me to call Wilcox’s office. The girl there gave me the number of a Dr. Sadar that I’m to see on the 26th. I hope it doesn’t get worse before then, but I was told to call if it does. Tom got some Ambosol for toothaches and whatever if I need it. I haven’t had to use it, but I took Ibuprofen for my cramps. Haven’t started bleeding yet, though. So far it seems my cycle’s every 29 days. Well, going to go lay down now.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 13, 1994 Went to see Dave and Evie’s baby. It was a cutie for a newborn. Also, her name’s not Nakita. It’s Nickolena but that’s pretty, too.

Dave and Evie are very nice and their house is beautiful. Funny how some people can have a normal house with normal neighbors and a normal sex life to go with it.

I just finished typing up journal 1 which only took 3 days. It came to 20 pages, 55041 characters. I’m going to go begin typing 2 next.

Cassandra left me a message last Sunday saying she had been in California when I left a message.

When I told her all that’s happened since being here, she sure was both shocked and very happy for me. She asked if I’d miss women, and said I had guts to do the dancing. Especially all-nude private dancing and modeling.

Now here’s the funny coincidence. She’s seeing someone now who’s an exotic dancer. I knew she was either gay or bi. I sensed it all along from day one.

She’s visited here before and she said she loved it. Also, this fall she’d like to vacation out here and see me. Cool! I would really like that. She’s such a neat person.

It’s going to be 91º tomorrow and the next day. Great. This oughta take the pool temperature up even higher. I believe tonight’s low is 70º.

I started typing journal 2 and I also typed letters to Bob and my parents.

TUESDAY, APRIL 12, 1994 Well, well. I guess I haven’t been writing as much lately. That’s cuz I have been pretty busy.

I didn’t go see Naomi cuz you couldn’t meet her after all. She was only there to give a speech. I also woke up wheezing really bad. If it were Gloria or Linda, I would’ve crawled there somehow.

Instead, Tom and I went to K Mart where I got 5 boxes (each containing 8) of markers for only $12. Good deal.

I also got Linda’s new CD and I especially love the song called Heartbeats Accelerating. There’s also a Spanish song on there.

I recorded 3 songs using Tom’s microphone. I think some of it sounds good and some of it sucks.

I sent Bob 10 stamps, so that’ll help him out and keep him busy for a while.

Tom and I also went to Red Lobster last Saturday and I loved it like I knew I would.

Sunday was the day I met Tom a year ago. Today was one of the worse days of my life 11 years ago. I jumped and broke my arm.

Later…

Well, I have my own floppy disk now and I learned how to use it. Remember how I was starting to type up and print out all my journals? Then I tossed the idea out. Well, now that I can type 100 WPM without looking, it’s much faster and easier. Plus, I’m not going to bother printing them out. The floppy disk can hold hundreds of journals. I’m almost through typing #1.

Tom gave me graph paper a while ago and I’m coloring in different designs and patterns to fill up his bare bedroom walls.

Tom and I did a survey thing again. Here are the questions with our answers (% of probability).

Will the business work out? J-100, T-50

Will we be married? J-100, T-100

Divorced? J-0, T-0

Will I be a singer? J-30, T-75

Dancer? J-15, T-25

Model? J-15, T-50

Have a kid? J-10, T-50

Abort it if I get pregnant? J-5, T-20

Quit smoking? J-0, T-95

Will Tom lose weight? J-100, T-75

Will I? J-5, T-80

FRIDAY, APRIL 8, 1994 Bob called collect a couple of hours ago. He’s pretty much just trying to hang in there and he does have an appeal going through.

As usual, SS is fucking with his checks. He’s having his sister look into it, but for now, he has no money to buy smokes or stamps. As soon as I get around to buying some, I’ll send some his way. I wrote to Kim and asked if she too, would send some stamps.

He says he’s locked down 22 hours a day. The other 2 are for showering, eating and making phone calls. He says there are no limits to how many letters he can get or send. He thinks there is a daily mail pickup, too.

The other inmates are unaware of what he’s in for and he has to keep it that way so he doesn’t have to be put away from everyone else. This I don’t understand cuz most inmates are there for some kind of sex crime. So many guys are pro-rape, so why would they want to go after him?

His cellmate is in for robbery.

He was also crying about how he hasn’t seen or heard from Kim. He says it’s cuz of his love for her. I know that, but I said, nah, she’s just busy and is afraid of running into that guy she testified against. This is true and we all know Kim’s barely home long to eat, sleep and piss.

Anyway, I typed letters to Bob, Kim, and my parents. Later I’ll do one for Fran.

Andy was over earlier. He brought me some postcards for magazine subscriptions and gave me 1 of 3 60-minute blank cassettes. He did have 2 stamps for 2 people he had me send wacky letters to but lost them. I dubbed 2 tapes for him which is a pain, but he says his new box eats 120s.

I got two more of those hang-up calls. Andy says he’s getting them, too. Mine come at different times in the afternoon. His always seem to come at 1:30 on Saturdays. Nervous could get this number if he wanted to, but I don’t know.

Tom may be a little late tonight and I’m sure he’ll be beat. I would be, too. This is why I told myself to enjoy the sex we had last Tuesday cuz I ain’t getting it for a while. Maybe this weekend, but we’ll see.

He didn’t get the job he was trying to get at AMEX, so now he’ll have to apply for another job.

THURSDAY, APRIL 7, 1994 Yes!!! I finally got a nice long letter from Bob. I copied it in #57. He even got the one I sent to Walpole. The second one, he should’ve gotten directly after he mailed the one I got today. My third one will go out to him in tomorrow’s mail.

I have a total of 146 letters so far counting from Book of Letters 1-7.

I hope that today my dad got his calendar.

Someone’s been calling and hanging up. If it’s not someone Tom knows, I wonder if it’s Nervous? He’s the only one that I can think of that may do that. Even long-distance.

I also typed Kim a letter and enclosed Bob’s letter.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 6, 1994 Let me begin updating starting with the early morning hours of the 4th. At 4:00 my time I called Tammy at 7:00 her time. They’re now 3 hours ahead. I told her about the talk I had with Tom, telling him how I feel sexually deprived, and about my mentioning a woman. She gave me good advice. She said I let my feelings be known to him, so now back off and see what happens. Also, I should sleep with him only. I agree, cuz the issue isn’t me missing women or him sucking in bed (though it does suck that he doesn’t cum), I just want more.

Well, yesterday we broke another record. He not only made it in there, but we both were so close to cumming.

Yesterday I got my license and I wasted my time studying for the test. I’m sure I could’ve passed it, but all I needed to do was show them my birth certificate and SS card. They took my picture which I hope isn’t too shitty since I’ll have to have it for 12 years. It cost $25 and it’s good till I’m 60. All I have to do every 12 years is get a new picture and an eye exam. When my last name becomes his it’ll only cost $4 for the change. They’ll be mailing me my license within a week.

I also got 3” of hair trimmed by some girl who was probably a butch. It’s quite shorter. Up to the small of my back, but I had to do it as it was so dead. It still looks like it’s been run through a shredding machine all the way up to my shoulders. It’ll come out of shock in 2-3 weeks. She also trimmed my bangs and I got more of that detangler.

The lettuce is really growing out back. Piggy loved it. It’s so tender. The carrots, though, are taking longer.

Well, I don’t think I’m forgetting anything. I’m taping my shows now.

Later…

Sure enough, Law & Order was a repeat.

I just made a huge thing of spaghetti which Tom really loves. Yup, I’ve gotten good at it.

I wonder if Bob got my letter? I sure hope so. But will I get a letter from him this month? I’ll have to see it to believe it.

Well, time to go listen to music now.

SUNDAY, APRIL 3, 1994 The EC has been fixed and today Tom’s going to do some yard work. Later we’ll be going in the Jacuzzi.

Evie had her baby yesterday and I must confess I’m a bit envious. I don’t know why I am, but I am. They named her Nakita. What a gorgeous, unique name.

This weekend has really been tough on both of us. Things have been breaking and we forgot a lot of stuff at the grocery store.

The lack of sex is getting to me again. People with busy lives manage to take breaks from their chores to play around for a half-hour or so, so why can’t we? Right now I wish I could tell him that I need the closeness as well as sex. It’d sure make me feel better, but I can’t make him do something he doesn’t want to do. He says it’s not me and that I do attract him, but I guess I’m going to have to take care of myself most of the time. For almost a week now he’s been saying “maybe tomorrow,” and I feel teased. If he wanted it that bad, he could’ve come and gotten it. Is he really teasing me or is his appetite really that low? And is it me or has he always been this way?

Later…

God am I bored! I can’t think of anything I really want to do. I did do one fun thing today. I went in the jacuzzi.

This sexually deprived girl hasn’t said a word. I don’t want to get into an argument. I’m not going to give in either. I know he’s not going to ask for sex today, but if he does I’ll give him a “maybe tomorrow” right back. Let him feel deprived for once.

Later…

Well, sure enough, Tom and I did end up having a discussion, but a good one. I let him know it’s not his fault that I’m hitting my sexual peak and he’s over his, which might be the case here. I also let him know that I love him, no matter what and that if this was to be part of being with him, so be it.

I brought up my getting together with women here and there as a side dish for when he’s too tired or too busy. One with no strings attached cuz it is he who I love and he only. No one and nothing can replace the relationship or the love we have. It’s not that he doesn’t please me in bed or that I miss women, I’m just not getting enough sex. Now I know how Brenda and Kacey felt, and they were at their peaks too. Tom said it’s something to think about, but then there’s reality. Do I really think it’ll be that easy? No. Otherwise, I would not have had only a few 1-nighters in 3 years. Things haven’t changed and they never will. 95% of gay women are butches and those few fems are going to want butches. The bi ones will want threesomes with their boyfriends or husbands. Plus, I couldn’t expect a woman to come running at the snap of my fingers every time I got horny. We’ll just have to wait and see, but no amount of sex can ever replace my love for Tom and the great person he is.

Yesterday I came up with a late, yet personalized present for my dad whose birthday’s the 5th. I wanted something with a personal touch. Not something I bought. So, I made a calendar on the computer. It was a great learning experience for me too, and believe me, I learned a lot. I did from April to December, using different colors for each month. Tom already had a blank calendar on the computer and I filled in the correct dates for each month. Then, I inserted my drawings on the bottom. I have 11 drawings scanned in, so April and December got two, and May through November got one.

SATURDAY, APRIL 2, 1994 Today's not likely to be a good day. The EC is broken, so Tom's gone out to the hardware store to get some parts. This is gonna fuck up our budget.

FRIDAY, APRIL 1, 1994 Tom just left a message. He’s going to be an hour or an hour and a half late.

I made another big pot of spaghetti. It came out well.

I talked to Fran and Ricky last night.

I called the Civic Plaza and Naomi will be there at 2 PM on the 9th.

Also, I called and scheduled an appointment for next Tuesday at 3:15, as I may need antibiotics. Been a little congested.

Today I was finally able to get into the pool all the way up to my ass. It won’t be long till it’s pleasant enough. It’s now 70º or so, so 5º more oughta make it nice enough. Actually, 10º more would make it quite comfy. It’s going to be 84º - 87º from now till Wed., so that’ll help it a lot.

I hope Bob gets my letter. I hope, also, to hear from him before the month is out.

That’s all for now, so, later!

0 notes

hawkinsindiana · 2 years

Text

i’ll make an exception

ALMOST PARADISE: PART FOUR - CHAPTER TWO OF TEN (?)

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!reader

word count: 8.2k (THE LONGEST ONE YET)

a/n: heyyyyyy....... i went a lil wild ^^ as you can see. as much as i love writing stevie i am so excited to bring the other characters back in (esp the introduction of the dungeon master himself). once again, ruby had a hand in this. they had a really nice day. now let’s throw them to the dogs. ALSO! I FIGURED OUT TO TYPE AN EM DASH AND THAT MAKES ME VERY EXCITED! so now you’ll get proper punctuation. anyways. thank you so much for reading!!!!! please enjoy!!!!

masterlist

A sound, just barely a hum, vibrates in your throat as you stir. For a moment, you’re confused as your mind struggles to comprehend anything at this hour. It only takes another second for you to recognize that you’re at Steve’s, and then another for you to feel his skin on yours.

His hand is splayed out across your ribs, almost like he was halfway through pulling you closer before his eyelids dropped. As for Steve, his position matches yours, laying on his stomach beside you; one of his legs is pressed up against yours.

The morning sun streams in behind the curtains, a few beams of light peeking through as you come to, squinting your eyes to adjust to the brightness. It bathes the room in such a beautiful glow as it bounces off of furniture and onto the pair of you. As you continue to stir, muscles shaking as you stretch, you turn in Steve’s hold and are met with the sweetest sight.

His face is barely visible from beneath the mop of bed head; from what you can see, his skin is flushed and warm from deep sleep, leaving his face dusted red and squished against the pillow. His breathing is slow as his eyelashes flutter for just a moment — you wonder what he’s dreaming about.

Your body is already scooting forwards to Steve. As peaceful and simply divine as he looks when he’s asleep, you can’t go another second without being fully wrapped up in the arms of your new roommate. Just the thought makes your chest and stomach pool with warmth.

Your fingers appear from under the blankets to gently thread through his hair; you push back all the strands that fell out of place in the night, exposing the rest of his face to the morning glow. The second your hand is on him, Steve’s stirring — a deep breath tells you as much, chest rising and falling as your touch wakes him up. When you skim your fingernails across the skin of his scalp, you earn a low groan from his throat, his hold on you tightening.

God, he missed you.

You watch adoringly as Steve peeks his eyes open, peering at you through his eyelashes as if he doesn’t quite believe you’re here. The half-hearted squeeze on your waist speaks of his tiredness and you think for just a moment that he may close his eyes and drift back to sleep. He doesn’t.

Instead, the pair of you relish the time to gaze lovingly, both your eyes soaking up the details of the morning. It almost hurts how captivating he looks. The stripe of sunlight that brightens the whole room kisses his skin, tan and warm under your touch — his eyes lighter, soft caramel in the morning glow, rove over you fondly. His expression holds awe, drinking in the particulars of your face and the sensation of you in his arms.

He’s had dozens of mornings like this with you but none where he’s so sure that he can take his time, memorizing the way you curl into him.

“Hi roomie,” You whisper to him, like you’re sharing a secret for just the two of you. The words tumble delightfully in Steve’s chest. His sleepy smile becomes a fully formed grin, matching your own and all he can do is pull you closer yet.

Faces nearly touching, Steve moves his hand from your waist, tucking under your shirt — his shirt — and skirting up your bare back. Beneath his roaming fingers which draw senseless patterns on your skin, Steve feels you shiver despite your warmth; it makes the ache in his chest burn even stronger.

“Hi roomie,” He whispers back, head ducking to kiss your shoulder, his touch featherlight. You vaguely think that it shouldn’t be possible to be as happy as you are — you feel like you’re glowing, heart turning inside out from emotion and all you want to do is get as close to Steve as possible.

You don’t ignore the instinct, nuzzling into his chest and peppering your own gentle kisses onto the curve of his neck. It’s not the passionate rush similar to what you engaged in last night, no — instead each of these kisses are an ‘I love you’ repeated over and over, hoping it sinks in and runs through his veins all day.

Last night. Your face flushes now just thinking about it. Quite possibly, that’s the best it’s ever been. You two were so in sync, propelled by your incessant teasing from earlier and the wonderful, positively heartwarming truth that you’re going to live together. Every touch carried a thousand meanings.

Steve’s hand is still tracing beneath your shirt, yours twined into his hair. As you sigh happily into him, it feels as though a live wire is lit under your skin, body buzzing with pure love. He can already feel his eyes drooping once again, the sensation of you pressed to him is a comfort like no other. But he thinks he’d rather stay awake, conscious enough to feel your puffs of air hitting his chest.

“I think we should take your mattress. ‘S softer,” Steve murmurs as gently as he can. With his voice still rough from underuse, the words still contain a bit of that gravel that sits uncomfortably in his mouth.

You smile against his skin as the image of you two moving furniture into the space of your empty apartment floats into your mind. The thought of you decorating it with little trinkets and hanging art on the walls only adds to the building warmth that spreads through your body.

“We’re getting new sheets though, sweetheart. I can’t take it anymore.”

You chuckle a bit at his comment, reminded of the hole in your fitted sheet that Steve always seems to get his toes stuck in. You shift your hand to loop beneath his arm, fingers holding onto his shoulder as you place another kiss there as well. The tone of your voice is playful as you answer, pretending to be offended, “Fine.”

Steve nearly rolls his eyes in amusement while he trails two of his fingers down the line of your spine; instinctively, the sensation makes your grip on him tighten. Now similarly to you, his mind is lost in thought, thinking of all the ways the space can be yours.

“What about that pull-out your mom’s got? Think she’d be willing to let us take it?”

“Probably,” You’d shrug if it weren’t for Steve’s hold, “She’s been looking to get rid of it for a while.”

You bring your face back up, shifting your position on the bed to place your head on the pillow; you meet Steve’s warm, affectionate gaze when you’re settled. It forces more blood to rush to your cheeks which in turn makes his smile grow even wider. Planning the move makes your hearts swell in a way that you didn’t know was possible.

“M’so excited,” He admits, voice still raspy but words earnest and sincere, “I’ve always been excited about moving out of here.”

His eyes bounce around his room — the only room in the house with any life in it. You both know that the house is yours today, and while it feels like a silver-lining most of the time, you know it feels like a burden to Steve when you aren’t here with him. His gaze returns to your face and he dips his head forward to brush his nose against yours, eyes crinkled in his smile, “I’m more excited to do it with you.”

You beam and briefly wonder if Steve can feel your rocketing pulse under his fingers, the thrum of your love rushing through your body.

“Me too, Steve Harrington,” You say back, a giggle following the words. Then, morning breath be damned, you can’t not kiss him. He lends you the delicate press of his lips and you pour all your affection into the kiss, humming in happiness.

Breaking away, Steve looks more alight and awake than before and you ponder if he’s thinking the same as you; that this has to be the most perfect morning you’ve ever lived. He knows for sure that he’s never been more in love.

You keep inviting him into your life, closer and closer to the point where you want to share an apartment together. Steve’s always been a bit terrified that one of these days you would stop coming around, stop feeling an attachment to Hawkins and eventually move on to a better life in the city. While it’s clear that’s something you want, you want to do it with him.

Another thought pops into your head.

“Mom will give us the pull-out if I tell her that’s where Dustin will sleep when he comes to visit,” You mumble, trying to memorize the rise and fall of Steve’s breaths beneath your touch. All of this is being filed away, already saving this memory for a rainier day.

Steve grins softly, tone light and amused, “I give him three weeks before he insists on visiting.”

You raise your eyebrows, “Three weeks? Stevie, he’ll wanna be there on day one. We’re gonna have to beat him off with a stick to get a morning like this in the first week.”

Steve snuggles closer, sighing happily, “Price I’m willing to pay.”

The pair of you end up falling back asleep in each other’s arms, taking the opportunity to sleep in for as long as possible. It’s only when the little hand passes eleven do you finally crawl out of bed, nearly giving in to Steve’s protests when he tries to goad you back into his chest. But if you’re late for lunch, you’ll never hear the end of it.

You and Steve always join your family for lunch on Saturdays. If you’re not in the house by noon sharp, Dustin throws a fit. Even when you’re in Chicago, Steve’s at dinner at least twice a week and sometimes Robin joins too; your mother hates the idea of either one of them ever going hungry. They’re both welcome, regardless of your presence.

Breaking the news to Dustin went about as well as you could’ve expected. Your mom was thrilled for you both, and Dustin was… well, Dustin.

“Wait, hold on-” He stops as the realization slams into him, leaning up against the kitchen counter before angrily gesturing between the two of you, “First you leave and now you’re taking Steve? This is so not fair!”

A frown grows over Steve’s face with your brother’s words, turning his attention away from the cat you cradle in your arms, “Oh, so you come crawling back to me, huh? Now that I’m leavin’? Eddie’s not good enough for you anymore, is that it?”

Both you and Dustin roll your eyes, but your brother’s is far more dramatic, “Steve, I swear to GOD-”

“Have you met him?” Steve crosses his arms over his chest as he looks over to you, interrupting Dustin before he sets himself off. Your boyfriend doesn’t need to say it in order for you to understand his feelings. His tone says it all — Eddie Munson is a menace.

“Not really,” You set the cat down onto the tile when they start to wiggle out of your grasp, “Talked to him a bit when I picked Dustin up from Hellfire one night. He did not seem too thrilled to see me, to be honest.”

You shrug it off, remembering the interaction in your head — Eddie’s annoyed tone of voice, eyes focused on anything but you; his disinterest was palpable.

“Whatever, he can have any opinion of me that he wants,” You add, moving over to the stove to stir the simmering pot of soup, “Seems like half this town does, anyway.”

With your back turned, you don’t notice the knowing glance shared between Steve and Dustin.

Your brother’s mood shifts as he attempts to raise yours, “Maybe he’s just… just intimidated by you! Y’know you can be kinda scary sometimes.”

His comment earns him a scoff and a confused glance over your shoulder, “Yeah right. I’m intimidating to Eddie Munson? The guy who sells dr- magazines to the freshmen?”

You quickly change your word choice as your mother walks into the kitchen; you don’t know how much she’s aware of Munson's reputation, and you figure it’s probably better that it stays that way. When she starts reaching for napkins and silverware, Steve immediately offers his help and gets swept away to set the table, your mom reaching up to pinch his cheek in thanks.

You’re so unbelievably grateful that Steve’s welcome in your home; your mom even joked that he should be included in this year’s Christmas card due to how much time he spends with all of you. You know she’s thankful for what Steve’s done for both of her children. After your father… well, she’s happy another male figure found his way into the Henderson house.

Dustin can sense it as well. It’s hard to be annoyed with the prospect of Steve moving away with you for too long, partially because you’re absolutely glowing today. He makes you extremely happy, almost to the point where it doesn’t feel deserved. How could Dustin be mad at you for that?

“Just because Steve will be there all the time doesn’t mean you can skip a single weekend.”

Your brother’s comment forces you to turn around. His eyes are serious, narrowed as if he might hex you if you oppose him. Amused, you roll your own eyes again, as if it’s silly he could’ve thought anything less, “Obviously. That’s still the plan. Always was.”

Dustin seems to brighten at that, posture straightening a little more before smiling, “Good, good.”

You return the grin as you reach forward, a hand extended out towards the top of his head. Dustin whines, placing both of his palms on the sides of his hat to keep it in place, “Nooo! No! I worked hard on it!”

He’s already moving away, trying to duck beneath your outstretched fingers. To both of your surprises, he manages to skirt away untouched, which brings a proud smile to his face. Your brother doesn’t get to celebrate long.

As Steve comes back into the kitchen, he squeezes in beside Dustin to grab another plate from the cabinet. Your brother instinctively steps away to give him more space, which ends with Steve thanking him with a tousle of his cap, “Thanks little man.”

Dustin pouts once Steve’s hand has left him, fingers going straight to the brim to readjust the bright blue bill across his forehead. Steve winks at you as he exits — he saw the whole thing. You shake your head as a large toothy smile spreads over your face.

You are ridiculously, incandescently happy.

—

You’re half asleep on the couch when the phone rings; the bright trill catches your attention through the game show blaring through the television, eyes widening as you come to. You’re tucked against the corner, a foot stretched out onto the coffee table as the ringing continues.

Neither your mom or Dustin make an effort to get up because they both know you’re going to get it; you’re halfway off the couch before either of them could move anyways. You stifle a yawn as your socks pad across the hardwood floor and into the hallway where the phone resides.

You clear your throat as you lift it off the base; you still sound slightly tired as you speak, “Hello?”

“Turn on the news.”

You scoff, wedging the phone in between your cheek and shoulder, “Jeez, Steve. What the hell do I gotta do to get a ‘hello’ from you? I’m serious-”

“Henderson,” Steve interrupts. His voice is stern, uninterested in joking around right now; it makes goosebumps roll over your skin, and not the good kind, “Just turn on the news.”

Your brow furrows as you grab the base in your free hand, gripping it tightly while you walk to the living room, the cord straining the farther you get from the outlet. When you appear in the archway to the living room, Dustin looks at you with a similarly confused expression. With a nod of your head, you gesture to the screen and repeat the order Steve had given you.

Your brother flips through a few channels before finally landing on Channel Nine; a reporter stands in front of a slew of crossed yellow tape, reading something into the microphone about a lack of suspects.

You shift, leaning up against the wall, “What happened? They’re not saying right now.”

Steve sighs on the other end of the line. The longer it takes for him to respond, the more your anxiety grows. In the silence, you can hear the same channel faintly playing in the background, the words echoing each other in your ears. He speaks again before you can prod him for more information, his tone dejected as he’s forced to detail the tragedy to you.

“Some high schooler got murdered last night.”

“What?” The response is pushed from you in pure shock, “Murdered? Steve, are you serious?”

“Yeah. Guess someone found her body this morning.”

Your family turns their heads abruptly at the ‘M’ word, staring at you with wide eyes, just as baffled as you are. Dustin sits up a bit straighter and your mom instinctively clutches her cat closer before focusing intently on the reporter. Your brother asks a question far too loudly, which makes your mom shush him in return, “Who was it?”

When you repeat it to Steve, you mouth back the answer he gives, “They haven't said yet. Or… I don’t know, I didn’t catch much before I called.”

Before you can get too giddy about the thought of Steve dialing you first, he continues, “Just… come by the store when you can, okay?”

You hum, turning away from the living room to return to the phone’s original spot, “Thought I wasn’t allowed to visit you while you’re working anymore.”

Thankfully, Steve’s nerves seem to have settled while chatting with you. You can imagine the smirk on his face as he flirts back, “Well there’s a murderer on the loose, sweetheart. Pretty ladies like you always seem to be victims in these sorts of things. I’ll make an exception. And Robin misses you.”

A small giggle escapes you, grinning down to the floor, “Okay, I’ll come by in a bit.”

“Good,” Steve answers; the relief is obvious in his tone, “I’ll see you soon, okay? I love you.”

Some shuffling on the other side of the line implies that Robin’s giving him a hard time for that, maybe a gross kissy face or something — Steve scoffs at her through the static, and your smile only grows.

“I know. Bye baby.”

He utters a similar phrase before hanging up, leaving you with the dial tone ringing through your ears. After placing the phone onto the base, you join your family in front of the television again, intent on taking in a few more details about the case before you eventually leave for Family Video.

It’s unsettling to think that after all of the things that have happened in Hawkins, a crime (you hate to say it) as normal as a murder seems alarming. You led a monster through the exact living room you’re standing in… and you’re shocked by a teenager getting killed?

You know that part in a slasher movie where the first victim’s been found and everyone’s crowded around the TV waiting for answers? Yeah, you’re living it. If you went over to either of your neighbor’s, you have a feeling they’re doing the same thing.

You get the dreadful feeling that nobody’s safe, like anyone could walk into Freddy Kruger. All the problems with the Upside Down always seem to be relegated to your group of survivors, or anyone else you manage to drag into it.

But something like a murder? With a small town like this, no wonder Steve was worried; maybe some of your anxiety has rubbed off on him.

You spend a few more minutes listening to the details of the case as they come in, including that the body was found at the old trailer park on the other side of town. The police claim there’s multiple suspects, but you know what that means; either there’s a single suspect that they can’t locate or they have absolutely no leads.

“First that poor Holland girl and the mall last summer…” You mom starts, her tone growing more panicked the more she hears; you and Dustin share a quick look from across the room, “I just don’t know if I can take much more of this.”

You shift awkwardly, crossing your arms over your chest at her words. Sometimes you forget that she doesn’t know what her children have been through, and a part of you hopes she never does — it would worry her ridiculously. She was a wreck after the Fourth of July, thinking you and Dustin had been visiting Steve at Scoops when Starcourt turned to ash. It was a believable excuse, but she’s been more protective of you two ever since — if that’s even possible.

The doorbell rings, snapping you from your thoughts. As Dustin gets up from the couch to answer it, you catch the time off the clock in the kitchen; it’s almost dinner time now. You should probably grab something to bring to Steve and Robin.

Or, that’s what you’re thinking until a familiar redhead enters.

It’s been… god, how long has it been? Since before you first left for Chicago last August. She’s grown more than you expected, but that shouldn’t shock you anymore especially with how tall Mike’s gotten. Dark clothes hang from her frame, not nearly as bright as those you’re used to seeing on her. While that would normally worry you the most, it’s the way her gaze lingers on you for a bit too long that does. The sight of you, leaned up against the wall on the other side of the room, stops her dead in her tracks. She didn’t expect to see you here, which in retrospect was a stupid thing to think.

“Max!” Her name is forced from your throat in surprise. Your face brightens as you’re reunited with the girl, who looks anxiously back to your brother when he shuts the door.

“How are you? What’s-”

“We need to talk,” Max interrupts you abruptly, her voice low. She simultaneously finds herself unable to look at you while also not wanting to look away, instead placing herself in this odd middle ground of nervous glances between you, the wall, and the floor. Seeing you standing in front of her for the first time in months, the realization is slamming into her — Max missed you more than she cares to admit.

You wish that you couldn’t sense her tension around you. It makes you regret being so excited to see her because clearly the feeling isn’t mutual.

Dustin brushes past her and leads the pair of you into his room; Max stands with her hands gripping tightly onto her arms and you mirror her, fingers clenched around your biceps as you perch yourself on the edge of your brother’s desk. You figure this spot gives her enough room away from you so she can be more comfortable. The thought makes you bite down on your teeth, hurt that this is what your relationship with the young girl has been reduced to.

Should you have done more to reach out to her?

The door closes behind Dustin. The two of you glance at each other as you wait for Max to speak. She’s biting down on her lip, brow furrowed intensely while she tries to compile her thoughts into something more understandable. But after a few seconds, she comes up short and just spits it out.

“Chrissy Cunningham,” Max shifts, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, “It was her. She was the one who was murdered. I saw the body this morning.”

An uneasy silence follows Max’s revelation. You don’t think you’d ever spoken to Chrissy, but she seemed like she was a decent human being — or more accurately, she didn’t really fit inside the box of ‘cheerleader’. It’s a shame someone ended her life before she could graduate; why does that seem to keep happening in this town?

Dustin’s face pinches in confusion as the news settles, “Don’t the Cunningham’s live over by Loch Nora? What the hell was she doing at the trailer park?”

The same question had popped into your mind by the time your brother asked it. It’s hard to imagine someone like Chrissy Cunningham willingly spending her time in a place like that.

Max leans all of her weight into her hip as she sighs, finally bringing her eyes up to dart between the two of you, seemingly aware that whatever piece of information she’s about to reveal is the real scandal.

“She was found at the Munson's place.”

Both you and your brother’s brows skyrocket.

“That’s not all,” Max continues, “I saw her with Eddie last night. Late last night. He brought her back with him after the pep rally I guess-”

“Well, case closed,” You interrupt, letting out a noise similar to a laugh as you stand.

“Woah, hold on-” Dustin stops his pacing, spinning on his heel to address you directly and confront you over what you imply, “We don’t know that, okay? There’s no way Eddie killed Chrissy.”

For the first time since she arrived, Max meets your eyes for longer than a second. Clearly, she had come to a similar conclusion — her face is filled with doubt like yours.

You adjust your grip on your arms as Max speaks for you both, “We can’t rule out that Eddie wasn’t involved somehow-”

“Yes! Yes we can! You two don’t know him like I do, okay?” Dustin raises his voice, impassioned by the accusation against his friend, “I promise you he didn’t do this.”

Your tone serves as a warning, “Dustin-”

“You said the same thing to me about Steve!”

“Woah hey,” You point your finger at him rather aggressively, “That’s not even remotely the same thing.”

“Yes it is!”

“No it’s not! He was an asshole, he wasn’t accused of murder!”

“Well look where you are now! He’s movin’ in!”

Max jumps in, eyes widening slightly with your brother’s words, “You’re moving in together?”

You groan, moving your hands to drag one of your palms down your cheek in exasperation. You weren’t necessarily planning on keeping this a secret, but it is rather annoying that Dustin’s the one who told her first.

“Yes, he’s coming to live with me in Chicago. And Dustin, you gotta stop being the one to break the news about our relationship to people outside our family. I’m serious.”

Dustin raises his hands in defense as he takes a seat on his bed; clearly he’s not going to be able to get through to you. He supposes he can’t blame you — you’re not likely to give someone the benefit of the doubt if they won’t do the same for you. But the longer he sits here, contemplating how to handle this, Max’s arrival confuses him; you have the same thought.

“You haven’t told the cops this, have you?”

Max darts her eyes up to meet yours; she hates that after all this time spent apart, you can still see right through her. The redhead exhales, blinking as she tries to organize her swirling mind once again. She really doesn’t want to say this.

“Last night, something else happened too.”

She squeezes her arms one last time before joining Dustin on the edge of his mattress; you have a feeling you’re going to want to sit down for this, so you sink into the desk chair as Max recounts the rest of her evening.

She recalls the TV going out, along with flickering lights all through the trailer. She recalls Eddie’s scream of terror and the way he drove off in a frenzy. She recalls her train of thought, the fears that she couldn’t help but overwhelm her as she looked back over the memory. That’s what brought her here.

You force yourself to take a breath after she’s done, leaning forward to rest your arms on your legs.

“Okay, look. I know that I’m usually the one to predict that something… bad’s gonna happen…” You begin, slowly coaxing the two teens through your reasoning, “But I think it’s safe to assume that Chrissy didn’t die because of something else.”

Dustin’s face grows confused at what you imply. You, who gave him so much shit for pursuing the Russian code without thinking that maybe there was more to it, don’t believe that a mysteriously sudden death could be Upside Down related? Even Max seems concerned by your level-headed attitude; you’re not known for disregarding a problem like this. Even though she didn’t know she’d see you here, she’d be stupid if she didn’t admit that your presence wasn’t a relief; you’ve gone through this since the beginning. If anyone knows what to do, it’s you.

Dustin scoffs lightly, “I think we have every reason to believe Chrissy wasn’t killed by someone from Hawkins. Or… not our Hawkins, at least.”

Before you can retort, he’s speaking again, “Look, if there’s a chance that Eddie’s innocent, we need to see it through. Right? I mean… if you had been accused of something like this and there was actually a Demogorgon running around-”

Dustin lowers his voice, nervously glancing to the door — he doesn’t suspect your mother’s listening in, but you can never be too careful. You sigh, shaking your head as you take in his words, lips firmly pressed together; you hate that he’s right.

“We need to find the only person that knows what actually happened,” Your brother concludes.

For the first time in three years, things are finally goin well. Maybe you’re in denial, unable to see the truth that’s right in front of you because a part of you finally feels normal. You’re in college, visiting home for Spring Break. Your boyfriend’s moving in with you in the fall. You have a grip on your nightmares. You don’t think you’re ready to let go of any of that for a guy like Eddie Munson.

You hope you can prove your brother wrong. For your own sake.

—

There’s only a couple of cars in the parking lot at Family Video when the three of you lock up your bikes outside. If you’re going on a hunt for Eddie Munson and then perhaps whatever creature’s stalking Hawkins (if there is one), there’s no way you’re doing it without Steve and Robin.

“Ah, well here I was expecting H squared when I should’ve known it’d be H cubed,” Robin says, setting her soda down on the counter, taking in the sight of you with Dustin and Max in tow.

Max’s face twists as she leans her forearms up against the counter, “What?”

Steve rolls his eyes; he’s heard this joke many times before because Robin’s quite proud of it. He gestures to himself, tone slightly exasperated, “Harrington…”

Then to you as you come around the counter, “Henderson…”

Robin shrugs in agreement as she darts her gaze to Dustin, “Yeah, y’know, H squared. You make it three so H cubed.”

“Ew, no. Don’t lump me in with-” Dustin scowls, motioning dramatically to Steve just as he pulls you into his side for a quick kiss, a stupid smile spread over both your faces, “Whatever they’ve got goin’ on.”

You send Dustin a matching frown; the twinkle in your eye doesn’t quite fit as you curl your arm around Steve’s. Your brother blinks, suddenly remembering the task at hand, “Robin, how many phones do you have?”

“Phones? Wha-”

“Just answer the question!” Dustin shouts, “We don’t have a lot of time here, Buckley!”

“Uh… th-three,” She stutters, startled by the sudden shift in mood, “Two out here and one in the back.”

Steve grows puzzled by Dustin’s odd request, but he supposes there have been stranger things he’s asked for — like that time he made Steve drive him to the store for a coil of wire and a carton of milk. He’s still too scared to ask what that was for.

Dipping his chin slightly, Steve whispers to you, “Do I want to know?”

Right as you’re in the middle of replying with a small shake of the head, Dustin tosses his backpack to the other side of the counter and jumps over; Robin grabs her drink just before his foot would have caught it, but none of the other items are so lucky. His stunt knocks nearly everything to the ground, which earns him a rather aggressive reaction from Steve, who pulls himself from you in record time to scold him.

“DUDE!” He shouts as Robin threads her hair into her hands, looking on at the chaos the younger boy has created. Dustin completely disregards the both of them and goes straight for the computer, hopping onto the stool previously occupied by Robin. Max mutters something under her breath, a breathless scoff escaping her.

“You know what? This is why I can’t take you anywhere,” You say, now properly shaking your head as you bend over to grab one of the signs that had fallen down. Robin takes it from you with a restrained smile, trying not to go crazy on the teen since Steve’s already doing a decent job of chewing him out.

Dustin eventually gets tired of Steve’s nagging and raises his voice to talk over him, addressing you and Max as he begins typing something, “Can you two please just catch them up while I take care of this?”

“Oh Jesus,” Steve groans, running one of his hands through his hair as he scoops up the VHS tapes on the ground, “Please don’t tell me he roped you into some Hellfire shit or something. I mean… what’s all this about Munson, anyway?”

You laugh before leaning back against the counter, “You’re not far off, actually.”

Your expression shifts before Steve can make some sort of snide comment; he recognizes that look anywhere and it worries him immensely. It’s the anxious one, the one that he hasn’t seen in a few months, but he could recognize in an instant. Something’s happened.

You let Max spill the details about your brother’s theory. Immediately, Robin’s intrigued — if there’s one thing she likes to sink her teeth into, it’s a good mystery. Steve, on the other hand, shares the same concerns that you do. He’s fairly convinced that he should just call the cops on Eddie right now, but he hates to admit that there’s a decent chance that Dustin’s right. He can see it in your eyes; this worry is starting to eat away at you. The faster the five of you find Eddie, the better.

—

“It’s kinda… Camp Crystal Lake out here, if you know what I mean.”

Max’s comment earns a sound of approval from you while you swipe the flashlight across the forest to your left. You squint, darting your eyes between the trees as you search for movement — human or otherwise. The redhead managed to get a lead out of one of Eddie’s friends, which you’re now pursuing in the evening moonlight.

Fog rolls up from Lover’s Lake, floating above the water’s surface as you and the girl walk the gravel path down to the boathouse; Steve, Robin, and Dustin trail behind. The forest is still, eerily so — there aren’t any cicadas or grasshoppers to fill the silence at this time of the year. If there’s anything out there, you’d be able to hear it in an instant. You can’t tell if that’s a relief or not.

“Thankfully I don’t think we’re gonna run into a guy with a hockey mask,” You joke as the pair of you approach the boathouse, a small structure fashioned out of corrugated metal, “Maybe one with a machete though.”

Max’s laugh brings a small smile to your face. You missed her company; the two of you are ridiculously similar. Regardless of what happens here, you hope that maybe your friendship with her can begin to mend. It’s only taken a couple of hours, but glimmers of your dynamic with her are starting to return — neither of you could help it even if you tried.

You know it hasn’t been easy for Max to adjust and maybe you should’ve done more to be there for her. But then again, it’s hard to imagine you helping anyone grieve Billy Hargrove, so perhaps you should cut yourself some slack.

She points her flashlight through one of the few windows, reflecting a prism of refracted light back onto her cheek, “I mean… we are out here looking for a killer, so-”

“Alright don’t jinx us, Mayfield,” You playfully interrupt as you wait for the others to join you, “One problem at a time, yeah?”

“I’m just saying, we better not find you and Steve brutally stabbed to death because you two decided to sneak off or some-”

With a scoff, you shove her to shut her up, accompanied by one of your famous glares; Max stumbles as she giggles before you’re finally flanked by the trio. All of you nervously stand here for a moment, sharing silent glances as you try to determine which one of you will do the honors. To your surprise, Robin reaches for the door first.

The interior isn’t impressive to look at — not that you were expecting much. There’s only three walls, letting the chill from the spring evening infiltrate the room. You get the sense that the boathouse isn’t well taken care of; the air trapped within still manages to smell like mildew even with a light breeze filtering through. With all of your flashlights searching the space, the water casts patterns over the sparse amount of furniture, as well as your faces as you take it in.

“Wow, this place is a dump,” Steve mutters, which makes you elbow him in the side, “What? I’m telling the truth! Look at all this shit.”

“That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

“Just makin’ an observation, Henderson,” He replies, glancing over to you as he pushes forwards towards the right side of the room. Dustin follows him while Robin and Max take the other side, separated by a small rowboat docked in the center. You drift behind the boys.

Steve’s not wrong — the room’s filled with all kinds of miscellaneous junk. Based upon the contents alone and if it weren’t for the boat, you’d never know that’s what it’s meant to store. There’s crates packed to the brim with bottles of beer, a workbench with several unfinished projects scattered amongst the tools, and an old television from the ‘60s that reminds you of the one your grandparents had.

There’s a collection of spare oars propped up against the wall, and among them is a four-pronged pitchfork. You laugh under your breath, wrapping your fingers around it and pulling it from the others before spinning it in your palm.

“It’d suck if somebody tried rowing with this,” You joke. Your voice is only loud enough to reach Steve and Dustin’s ears, who both turn to you with slight smiles at what you imply. Your boyfriend reaches past you, his arm brushing against yours as he grasps one of the oars, a playful expression on his face, “Think you’d learn your lesson pretty quick if you tried.”

A soft giggle from you — Steve’s heart flutters. Then he remembers why you’re snooping in the first place and his eyes go stony; there’s gotta be somewhere someone could hide in here. His protective instinct grows.

A nudge to your hip brings your focus back up to Steve, who’s now focused intently on the boat, coated in tarps and other materials. With a quick gesture of his head and a knowing glance sent your way, his gaze dark except for a sliver of caramel from the flashlight, you understand him; he doesn’t have to speak. He takes the oar in both hands and cautiously approaches the boat.

Dustin stops Steve with a sharp whisper before he can do anything, the oar raised like he’s about to impale something on the end.

“What are you doing?”

Steve frustratingly glares at your brother, “He could be hiding in here, I don’t know!”

Dustin scoffs, “Yeah right. And like that’s gonna do anything if there’s anyone in there anyways.”

With the thin end, Steve motions over to his left, “That’s what she’s for.”

Dustin hadn’t noticed you step in closer, completely silent even with one of your hands still gripping the pitchfork; the other holds the beam from your flashlight directly onto the boat, where Steve begins poking at the overlapping tarps.

“Can never be too careful, Henderson. All of us have nearly died about a hundred times, in case you forgot,” Steve adds, the wood crinkling the canvas beneath it before he pulls away to look at Dustin properly, “So excuse me for taking the time to make sure we’re all saf-”

It happens so quickly you’re barely able to process what you witness. With Steve’s back turned to the boat, the tarps suddenly fly off. For a split second, you thought it had been Steve who moved them, but the wild and frizzy head of hair that appeared answered every question you had.

Eddie Munson — the Dungeon Master for the Hellfire Club — has got a fist in Steve’s shirt and a broken bottle jammed up against his neck. The pair of them stumble backwards until Steve’s firmly pinned to the wall behind him, panic rushing over his face as he tries not to move.

That’s when something pokes Eddie in the ribs.

“I’d let go of him if I were you.”

Eddie’s brazen eyes dart over his shoulder; he’s certainly not expecting to see you standing behind him. The pitchfork is clasped tightly between both your hands, the flashlight discarded onto the floor. It’s wedged at an angle where Eddie can feel the prongs with each shallow breath. Your eyes are rageful, fierce in their intensity beneath the crease in your brow. Eddie didn’t know what he was getting himself into threatening Steve like this.

He doesn’t know anything about you, or what you’d do to protect those you love. Regardless, Eddie gets the sense that you’re not bluffing; you’d shove this thing through him if he hurts Steve.

You can barely hear your brother and the others shouting in fear as the room suddenly grows incredibly tense — when Steve moves, Eddie presses the bottle into his Adam's apple, which then causes you to shift the pitchfork to rest in between two of his ribs. The three of you are locked in a standoff; none of you are going to move.

Dustin’s saying something about how you’re all here to help Eddie, but you can’t make out the details over the anger and terror that rushes through your brain. Every few milliseconds, you switch your focus from Eddie to Steve, trying to gauge how he’s doing as the other boy refuses to move. You swallow nervously.

Steve desperately wants to say something to you, assure you that it’s gonna be okay, because he can see the panic in your irises every time he meets your eyes. He doesn’t have a great view of you with his chin forced up like this, but that doesn’t matter — he could feel your stress from a mile away.

“Maybe we all should just… relax for a moment, yeah? We’re not here to hurt you,” Dustin, bless his heart, is trying desperately to calm Eddie, having forced himself in front of Robin and Max in an attempt to diffuse the situation. You can’t get a read on Eddie, unable to tell whether or not your brother’s words are getting through to him.

Your heart’s pounding so loudly that Eddie has to be able to hear it; you don’t know how much longer you can stand here like this. How long has it been? Two minutes? Ten seconds? Time is an illusion to you while Steve’s got his eyes screwed shut, a sharp object pressed against his throat, Dustin’s words drowned out by your anxiety.

Suddenly, Eddie’s hold on Steve weakens and he finally lets your boyfriend go. Your eyes meet Eddie’s just before he turns away, both of you equally uneasy and frightened, and the pitchfork clatters to the ground as Steve instinctively searches for you. Your demeanor shifts in an instant, nearly giving Eddie whiplash. If he wasn’t so caught up in his own thoughts, he’d be studying your interactions with Harrington — your behavior is confounding to him.

“Are you okay?” You murmur, voice hushed just quiet enough to only be heard by him, as he gasps for air; he couldn’t help but hold his breath through all of that. With your guidance, Steve sits on a nearby stack of crates, one of his own hands curled around his throat.

Robin whispers his name as she kneels on the ground beside you, taking a moment to check up on the both of you; the look she shares with you confirms that you’re going to be fine. She places a reassuring hand on your shoulder as she speaks again.

“He didn’t… like, get you, did he?”

With a deep exhale, Steve shakes his head, darting his eyes between the two girls concerned in front of him. He’s incredibly lucky to have the pair of you looking out for him.

Steve doesn't know whether to wave off your concerns or welcome your comfort; he's a little shaken up, but nothing's hurt. He'd hate to make you worry about something so insignificant right now. But from how wide your eyes are, how much your voice shakes as you whisper to him, Steve knows your steady touch is more for you than it is for him.

“I’m okay,” Steve mutters when he gains the strength to speak. He can tell that you need a bit more reassurance as Robin seems satisfied with that answer — your fingers are still trembling against his skin from the adrenaline.

“Here, lemme see,” You pinch his chin between your thumb and pointer finger, tilting his head back so you can inspect his skin. Steve swallows as your other hand gently skims across his throat, searching for any cuts or blood; he has to stop himself from shuddering at the light contact. When you can't seem to find anything, you pull his chin back down.

Steve manages a small smile, his tone genuine despite the hushed way he speaks, “Thanks.”

You nod once as you remove your hands from him — it’s obvious he doesn’t just mean checking him for wounds. Your ability to switch between his loving girlfriend and the most dangerous person in the room makes his head spin.

“Of course. Always.”

Steve can tell your words have more than one meaning too.

Dustin had convinced Eddie to drop the shattered bottle, which he tossed into the lake for good measure. Now that there’s some distance between you, you’re finally able to get a decent look at the fugitive.

It’s strange to see someone clad in so much leather and metal tucked into themselves on the floor. But Eddie… Eddie’s terrified. You wonder for a moment if it’s because of you, until you recognize the nervous fidgeting. His legs are folded into his chest, posture hunched as he takes a few deep breaths himself, spinning the ring around his middle finger.

You’d recognize that type of anxiety anywhere — with eyes glazed over in retrospection. In horror.

The oxygen is sucked from your lungs.

Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach as you begin listening in, leaning against a pillar in the room. You missed the first part of the conversation while tending to Steve, who now stands beside you, but you seem to have picked a good time to pay attention. Eddie’s worked himself up, voice cracking and shuddering as he recounts what happened last night. The way he describes Chrissy’s death, bones snapping and twisting unnaturally… you know he’s not lying. You had been able to deduce that from the look on his face alone, but hearing confirmation of it stings so much worse.

As you look over to Steve, his hand smooths across your back comfortingly. When his arm returns to his side, you wrap your fingers around his elbow and press your cheek to his shoulder. He swallows harshly before leaning in to kiss your hair softly.

Dread rolls over you both; it’s happening again. This feels different than the last three times.

The attack that killed Chrissy came from the other side, from the Upside Down, you’re certain of it. There’s no other possible explanation — if there was a gate, you would’ve known by now. The thought of this spellcaster, this… Vecna being able to psychically cross the barrier between your dimensions makes your blood run cold.

Another awful thought floods your brain; El’s in California. You’ve never been able to beat this without her.

This morning — the pair of you and Steve bathed in the warmth from your love and the sunlight — already seems like a distant memory.

—

taglist (CLOSED): @stevebabey / @hannarudick / @crazycookiecrumbles / @jennifersminds / @l0ve-0f-my-lifee-blog / @loove-persevering / @daddystevee / @thecaptainsgingersnap / @let-the-imaginationflow / @agentsimmonsfitz / @im-a-stranger-thing / @mikariell95 / @pilunb / @luvzatte / @royalestrellas / @ultrunning / @poutfull / @yoheyyosup / @duchessdaisybat / @sassisaluxury / @beththebubbly / @i-bitch-you-bitch / @captainstilinskis / @juliebean247 / @rexorangecouny / @pass-me-jeez-it / @steveshcrringtons / @halefirewarrior / @jointhehunt67 / @peanutem / @ketchuplukehemmo / @mlmarint / @moronphilia / @emmegirl827 / @lookalivesunshine-x / @elite4cekalyma / @marjoherbo / @just-my-fandom / @idumpyourgrass / @alafolieee / @mochminnie / @phantomalchemist / @dustyblueboo / @alonewolfsblog / @ggclarissa / @hufflepuffing-all-day-long / @bippityboppitybabe / @readinthegarden12 / @stxtch72 / @random-girl-army / @thatawkwardlittlefangirl / @lovinnoya / @graciehams / @i-mmunity / @gothmingguk / @fangeekkk / @octaviackles / @hot-mess-express99 / @sarahcameronswife / @the-local-toast / @kamala-khann / @the-passionate-freak / @mjtalksaboutanything / @circesstars / @astroponyo / @lostinwonderland314 / @yeswhatever33 / @raggedyoldwitch / @chaoticsteve / @walkin-in-hawkins / @live-the-fangirl-life / @aspcun11 / @lionfart / @petty131313 / @jinxed-jk / @jureuminho / @slipawaylrh

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things fic #almost paradise

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

For a prompt, what if Wen Xu arrives to burn down the Cloud Recesses while everyone is studying there

Home Alone - ao3

“All right,” Wei Wuxian said, when Lan Qiren announced that the Cloud Recesses would be imminently under attack by Wen Xu and the Wen sect armies, the calm in his monotone voice belied by the wrinkle of concern in his forehead. “We’re going to make that bastard wish he’d never been born, right?”

He was speaking lightly, as he always did, trying to make those around him feel more comfortable, braver, less afraid – his was the language of confidence and arrogance, of never backing down, and he didn’t know how else to speak.

He didn’t mean anything in particular by it, or at least not more than he usually did.

He wasn’t expecting Lan Qiren to look at him and say, “If you have any ideas, now is the time to contribute them.”

“So what exactly do you do again?” Wei Wuxian asked, following the older Lan sect disciple around – at least, the man was dressed like a Lan sect disciple, and with a forehead ribbon suggesting that he shared blood with the main clan, too, but Wei Wuxian wasn’t so sure he really was one.

“I blow stuff up, usually,” Lan Yueheng said cheerfully.

That was why Wei Wuxian had doubts.

The man was practically skipping. There was no way he was a Lan.

“Shishu is an alchemist,” Lan Wangji said. His hands were folded behind his back, as always, and he looked tense as might be expected, what with an imminent attack on his home by a colossal army intent on ravaging and destroying everything in its path – but the way he looked at Lan Yueheng was unaccountably fond, as if he were someone he was close to. Wei Wuxian hadn’t known there was anyone other than Lan Qiren or Lan Xichen that Lan Wangji was close to. He was oddly jealous. “Not always successfully.”

“Hey, at blowing things up, I am the most successful!” Lan Yueheng grinned. A moment later, though, the grin faded, and he looked anxious. “Wangji, are you sure you won’t go with your brother?”

“Brother will protect the sect books,” Lan Wangji said solemnly. “I will stay here to defend the sect and the guest disciples.”

Wei Wuxian appreciated that, being one of said guest disciples.

Anyway, it made sense. Lan Qiren had seriously considered trying to send them away with Lan Xichen, saying that their lives were more important than some extra books – other Lan elders hadn’t necessarily agreed, judging by their expressions – but regretfully concluded that adding more people to Lan Xichen’s escape route would do nothing but reveal its existence, dooming all of them.

So they’d split up: Lan Xichen, heading out virtually alone with the most precious Lan sect books, and all the rest of them here to try to resist as much as they could – even Lan Wangji.

Lan Yueheng didn’t try to argue with Lan Wangji, only sighed, sounding as though he’d expected nothing less from him and had only felt the need to make a token protest before accepting it as inevitable. It seemed he really was close to Lan Wangji.

Yeah, Wei Wuxian was definitely jealous.

“All right, then,” Lan Yueheng said, shaking his head and resuming his cheer. “Blowing things up in self-defense plan it is! You’re both talented in music, right?”

“What does music have to do with explosions?” Wei Wuxian asked.

The answer, apparently, was a lot – at least when you were an experimental alchemist in a musically inclined sect and you’d developed a way to trigger explosions via certain combinations of musical notes.

“So, did you know that Teacher Lan was scary?” Wei Wuxian asked Jiang Cheng, who’d finally returned from helping get all the elderly and children and civilians to evacuate – and refusing to join them, of course, even though he was entitled to go in order to preserve his life, being the heir of a sect and all that, completely typical Jiang Cheng – and was now pacing around, eager for a fight.

“Just because he punished you a few times doesn’t make him scary,” Jiang Cheng said.

“No, it doesn’t,” Wei Wuxian agreed. “You know what does make him scary? Playing music that makes his opponents try to cut their own necks.”

“…what?”

“Apparently he gets really upset when you mess with his students,” Wei Wuxian said wisely.

Unlike Jiang Cheng, he’d had time to adjust to the concept of Lan Qiren being terrifying: they were on the fifth wave of scouts, and this set wasn’t doing any better than the first four, not even when they’d realized it would be better if they stopped their ears with wax before approaching.

That’d only made Lan Qiren shift tactics – and songs.

Some of which had an even wider area of impact.

“Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng said, looking at him suspiciously. “What did you do?”

“I convinced Teacher Lan that guerrilla warfare that destroyed as much of the enemy as possible would be more effective than just trying to defend the sect’s territory, since that was clearly a lost cause,” Wei Wuxian said promptly. “He agreed, but said that he could only do so much since he wasn’t a very good sword fighter. And then I asked him if he knew anything else that could be used as an attack and he said ‘no’ and then he said ‘well, I suppose’ and then he listed off a few things that – according to him – aren’t meant to be used in warfare but, and this is a direct quote, ‘could be put to a destructive use if one so wished it’.”

“And we now ‘so wish it’?”

“Yup. Oh, and watch out for anything that has a Lan sect cloud with a three-looped circle carved into the side of it, and I do mean anything– those explode.”

“Of course they do.”

“Hey! For once it has nothing to do with me!”

“I thought you said he said he was bad at swordfighting,” Jiang Cheng said suspiciously.

Wei Wuxian held out his hands helplessly in a ‘don’t look at me’ gesture, trying to defend himself from a sharp and pointy elbow to the side while also not pulling his eyes away from the ongoing battlefield for even a single moment.

“Shufu considers himself to be of average skill at the sword,” Lan Wangji said in the peaceable tone of someone who had been taught the basics of swordfighting by the person in question. The basics of really awesome swordfighting. “His real strength is in music, as you’ve seen.”

“I get that, really, I do, his music is terrifying,” Wei Wuxian said, and meant it completely. Between the two, he’d rather go up against Lan Qiren with a sword, where he’d at least be able to make a decent showing of himself before getting chopped to bits by the man’s fluid and almost seemingly delicate style that was nevertheless highly effective at skewering Wen sect disciples left and right; it would be better than with music, where he might as well just cut his own throat or strangle himself with guqin strings now to save Lan Qiren’s fingers the trouble. “But Jiang Cheng’s still right, okay – why in the world does he consider that to be ‘average’? Who is he comparing himself to?”

Lan Wangji considered the question for a long moment, then finally said: “A statistical outlier.”

“I wish we had aerial attacks we could use against the Wen sect’s swords,” Wei Wuxian said wistfully, and next to him Jiang Cheng nodded with a sight of longing – it was so frustrating seeing more and more Wen sect soldiers arriving in groups, like flocks of birds that started to fill the skies because they couldn’t be so easily shot down. “But if we try anything, they’ll just shield against us.”

“Teacher Lan said we can’t use spiritual energy against them, since we’d lose,” Jiang Cheng said, and as much as they all regretted it, Lan Qiren was probably right: they might be better trained than the Wen sect soldiers, might be better cultivators and stronger in spiritual energy individually, but they were young and immature, and at a serious numerical disadvantage.

It would be far too easy for the flying cultivators to stop their flying just long enough to set up a defensive array, block whatever spiritual attack they sent out, and then keep going to find and stab them before they’d even recovered from the energy expenditure.

“I didn’t mean spiritual energy,” Wei Wuxian grumbled. “I just meant, you know, like the explosives we’ve laid in all over the ground – something like that. If we could attach those to something…”

“I don’t think we have anything that flies anyway,” Lan Yueheng said regretfully.

“You have lanterns, don’t you?” Nie Huaisang said, and everyone turned to look at him. “Fill them with something that explodes when disturbed and send them floating into the air. Better yet, write ‘peace’ on the side of them to make it look like you’re making some sort of meaningful gesture designed to shame them. The Wen sect won’t be able to resist kicking them aside as an insult, and that’ll trigger them.”

They all stared at him.

He shrugged.

“We have a lot of defenses set up against invasion, at home,” he said. “And not always the budget to pay for anything fancy, so we’ve come up with some slightly more unorthodox ideas, too.”

“It’s a really good idea,” Wei Wuxian said, suddenly focused on the hitherto ignored Nie Huaisang. Clearly he’d made a tactical error, thinking of himself as the only person who knew how to get up to tricks. “Do you have any other ideas like that?”

Nie Huaisang smiled.

“Teacher Lan, I have an idea,” Wei Wuxian said, inserting himself briefly into the clearing near the Lan sect gate where Lan Qiren was sitting to rest in preparation for the Wen sect’s next attack. “But you’re going to hate it.”

“You may proceed,” Lan Qiren said, not looking up.

“Wait,” Wei Wuxian said, blinking. “Really? You’re not even going to ask what it is? Or why you’d hate it so much?”

“There is no time for that,” Lan Qiren said, and finally spared him a glance. He looked tired. “Things will get worse very soon.”

“But we’re winning!”

“No,” Lan Qiren said, shaking out his fingers – even despite occasionally alternating to using the sword when necessary, he’d played his guqin to the point of drawing blood and breaking nails, and was continuing despite everyone pleading with him to stop and swap out for someone else for a while. He’d said that there was no one else on his level, and he was probably right, but still, surely, just for a little… “We are surviving. Do not mistake the two.”

“Okay, so,” Wei Wuxian said, rubbing his hands together. “Resentful energy –”

“No,” Lan Wangji said.

“Thanks,” Wei Wuxian said to Jin Zixuan, who’d probably just saved his life by stabbing a Wen sect cultivator in the back right before the man had been able to stop Wei Wuxian from activating another series of explosions. “I guess I owe you one?”

“Don’t mention it,” Jin Zixuan said. “How else can I help?”

“I don’t know,” Wei Wuxian said, scratching his head and thinking about Nie Huaisang as precedent. There wasn’t time for schoolyard rivalries right now. “Do you have anything really unexpected that could be used to hurt people? Be creative – they’re guarded against all the usual defenses, so the weirder the better, anything goes. I won’t judge.”

Jin Zixuan thought about it. “I’m pretty sure I have a drug that puts people to sleep?”

“…why do you have something like that?”

Jin Zixuna grimaced. “My father gave it to me along with another one that he said not to use in excess, though I don’t actually know what that one does because that was about when my mom ran in and started throwing things at him. I can’t throw it away because it was a gift from my father, but I put it as deep into my bags as I could so that I’d never have to see or touch it. Ever.”

Wei Wuxian’s nose wrinkled. He’d never before felt pity for Jin Zixuan, but having to put up with Jin Guangshan on a regular basis was pretty bad – much less owing him filial piety.

No wonder Jin Zixuan was so twitchy all the time.

“Okay, so one sleep drug and one…uh…”

“Enhancement. Presumably. Can we throw it at the other side? Maybe turn it into incense and make smoke-bombs or something?”

“You know what,” Wei Wuxian said. “Why not? If nothing else, it’d be distracting, right?”

“This doesn’t feel honorable,” Jiang Cheng said, watching the fun. They’d raided the Lan sect’s medicine cabinets and kitchens for other noxious and irritating substances that might make for good smoke-bombs – Jiang Cheng himself had even located a whole patch of something not unlike poison ivy that had been quickly repurposed for the cause. “Strictly speaking.”

“Honor’s overrated,” Wei Wuxian said. “Making the Wen bastards pay for attacking Lan Zhan’s home is what’s important.”

Lan Wangji didn’t smile, exactly, but Wei Wuxian took his expression as a win regardless.

It turned out that music could also make plants grow really fast.

According to Lan Qiren, the spell ruined the plants’ nutritional value and made them basically useless.

Well.

Useless if your goal was eating them, anyway.

(First they could grow under their enemies’ feet and attack them, roots and vines twining around them to strangle them, and then they could be used up in the smoke-bombs – two for the price of one!)

“Are you sure about not doing the whole resentful energy thing?”

“Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng said. “No.”

“Hey, Wei-xiong, do you have or can you create any more papermen?” Jin Zixuan asked.

“Yes, sure, plenty,” Wei Wuxian said. He’d like to say that he’d known he’d one day need such a skill, and that that was why he’d learned the trick so thoroughly, but that was a complete lie. “Why?”

“Nie-xiong, Jiang-xiong and I are going to use them to make a shadow-play to lure a bunch of Wen sect cultivators into another plant-and-explosives trap.”

“…that’s amazing, Jin-xiong,” Wei Wuxian said, marveling. “How do you even think of that?”

“Even I get into trouble sometimes,” Jin Zixuan said, and was startled into an unexpected smile when Jiang Cheng punched his shoulder approvingly.

Wei Wuxian was actually having a pretty good time with it all right up until the main force of the Wen sect decided to ignore all their traps and charge straight towards the classroom they’d fallen back to using as a headquarters, and then suddenly he wasn’t having a good time at all.

“Run,” Lan Qiren said, and put down his guqin, drawing his sword once more.

“But we can fight!” Jiang Cheng argued.

“Run.”

“Shufu –”

“Run.”

They ran.

“If you don’t come out, I’m going to make him pay,” Wen Xu called.

His fingers were knotted in Lan Qiren’s hair, pulling their teacher’s head back to show how his face was covered in blood, how it was seeping out through his mouth and nose, how one of his eyes was badly bruised and swollen from having been beaten down by sheer force of numbers.

Lan Qiren had made them pay dearly for their efforts to bring him down –

But there were just so many of them.

“How dare he,” Jiang Cheng hissed. “He was once one of Teacher Lan’s students, too!”

Wei Wuxian was holding Lan Wangji back, but only barely; his fingers were starting to go numb from the sheer effort of it. If Jin Zixuan and Jiang Cheng weren’t there to help him hold him down, Lan Wangji would have already given away their position, rushing out to make some futile gesture in his overwhelming rage. Wei Wuxian was focusing with all his being on how much he had to stop Lan Wangji from doing something like that, because if he wasn’t, if he let himself think about anything else for even a single moment, he’d have also run out there, sword drawn, without so much as a care – he hadn’t realized he’d be so angry over it, so furious, so betrayed and horrified by Wen Xu’s cruelty.

Prior to today, he wouldn’t have said he even liked Lan Qiren!

“My students are not so foolish as to fall for so obvious a scheme as that,” Lan Qiren said, his tone as monotonous as it ever was during his lectures – for the briefest moment, Wei Wuxian felt that he was dreaming, that he had merely dreamt everything that had happened: surely it was still yesterday, with Lan Qiren standing tall, safe and healthy, at the front of the classroom, lecturing about one of the Lan sect rules…which one had it been? Shoulder the weight of morality? Have a strong will and anything can be achieved? Be mighty, and others will die for you?

Do not break faith?

Somehow, despite everything that had happened, Lan Qiren’s eyes curved ever so slightly.

“Present company excluded, of course.”

Wen Xu threw him down to the ground, mouth twisting and teeth gnashing with offended anger.

“Beat him,” he ordered his men. “Make it hurt. I want him screaming – let’s see how his precious students like that. Or maybe it’s just that they don’t care?”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said, eyes red with unshed tears and barely swallowed rage. “Tell me your idea about resentful energy.”

“Perhaps,” Lan Qiren said, then paused briefly to cough up some blood. His voice, when he resumed speaking, was hoarse. “Perhaps I should have reviewed your idea more closely when you first proposed it.”

“Possibly,” Wei Wuxian said, offering up some cloth to help wipe away the blood. Lan Wangji was busy bandaging his uncle’s injuries up, while Jiang Cheng, Jin Zixuan, and Nie Huaisang hovered by the door, only barely pretending to be keeping a lookout the way they were supposed to. “In my defense, I didn’t quite expect…that.”

Everyone politely did not ask him to elaborate.

The effects had been…well, it turned out using resentful energy the way Wei Wuxian had thought was possible, to say the least, and also that they’d taken down an awful lot of Wen sect soldiers in their defensive efforts.

“You will all have been affected by the resentful energy you used to summon the corpses,” Lan Qiren said. “Although the method you devised appears to avoid the most immediate consequences, which – let me remind you – include qi deviation and death in some instances, there is always the possibility that it has left traces of resentful energy within your meridians. If it is allowed to build up, it will escalate into a backlash that would rip your body and soul to pieces. There are spells and songs that can help clear your spirits and ease the effects.”

“Nie Huaisang has been playing some of them for us, since he can’t fight,” Lan Wangji said. “Nie sect ones – they’re…uh, not especially calming, more of a cleanse-by-force thing, but they seem to be working.”

Jiang Cheng nodded. “We’ll listen to any others that you’d like, Teacher Lan,” he said, anxious, and the rest of them nodded. “Just say which ones. If there’s any array or anything – or if you want us to write an essay about why using resentful energy is dangerous and wrong –”

Even Wei Wuxian nodded at that – even Nie Huaisang nodded, and he hated essays more than anything.

Lan Qiren huffed lightly. “Now you’re all so obedient.”

They all bowed their heads.

“…you did a good job,” Lan Qiren finally said, and they all looked up to stare at him. “You rescued me and repelled the Wen sect, however temporarily. Even though you used demonic cultivation, which is forbidden, you did not purposefully disturb graves, and you can make recompense to the spirits later. It was well done, and I thank you for it.”

He noticed that they were gaping and frowned at them.

“What have I taught you?” he scolded, and he sounded enough like he normally did that Wei Wuxian had the sudden urge to burst into totally inexplicable tears. “The preservation of human life is the priority, always. Why is this a surprise?”

“Shufu is right,” Lan Wangji said, and there was something of peace and calm in his eyes, the foundation of his world steady and unfaltering – he was almost glowing with it, satisfied and happy, and he was so utterly beautiful in Wei Wuxian’s eyes that it was almost blinding. “We acknowledge Teacher’s words.”

“We acknowledge Teacher’s words,” everyone else quickly agreed.

Lan Qiren shook his head, nodding in appreciation. “What is your next step now?” he asked. “The Wen sect was only repulsed, not defeated. They will not be gone long – they are already regrouping outside our gate, and this time they will be prepared for the effects of your demonic cultivation. In the end, they still have the advantage of numbers.”

“I don’t think we got as far as that in our plan,” Wei Wuxian said, rubbing the back of his head.

His thinking had mostly stopped at get Teacher Lan back and make them pay. He was pretty sure the same was true for Lan Wangji, and probably all the rest of the, too.

“Maybe you didn’t,” Nie Huaisang said with a sniff, and damnit, Wei Wuxian really needed to stop underestimating him just because he was a bad cultivator and a bit empty-headed. “I, on the other hand, sent a message back to my da-ge way back when this first started, and he should be here very soon with an army of his own.”

There were those in the Jiang sect that liked to mock the Nie sect as being unduly paranoid, always preparing for war and speaking grimly of its inevitability, always training their disciples and soldiers as if each one of them would need to fight five or ten of the enemy at once.

If Wei Wuxian ever met any of those people ever again, he was going to punch them in the face.

“Just be sure to get your sect ready when you get back,” Nie Mingjue advised them all grimly when it was all done and Wen Xu’s head was stuck on a pike at the entrance to the Cloud Recesses as a warning. The Nie sect’s forces were smaller than the Wen sect’s invasion force, but their people were better trained; even after flying all the way from Qinghe, they’d come down on the remaining invasion force like a hammer. “This isn’t over, not by a long shot.”

“We understand. There is still war to come.”

“Not just war, but uneven and unbalanced war, and not in our favor,” Nie Mingjue said heavily. “Understand that even with this loss, the forces of all the cultivation world put together can’t match up to the armies under Wen Ruohan’s command.”

“Actually,” Lan Qiren said, and gave all of his students a pointed look, probably on account of the fact that they all still owed him the essay they'd promised to write, “I think you’ll find that there’s something more that we can add…”

#mdzs #wei wuxian #lan qiren #lan wangji #jiang cheng #nie huaisang #jin zixuan #my fic #my fics #home alone

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hornime · 4 years

Text

home workout | bokuto koutarou x gn!reader

“i’d let you do- do anything. anything you wan’ to me. i’m yours. all- all,” his voice raised a few octaves as the inside of your thighs brushed past his cockhead, “yours. all yours.”

warnings: 18+, sub!bokuto, jealous!reader (i mean who wouldn’t be when bokuto, your goddamn boyfriend, is perceived by other people the fuck), also lowkey possessive!reader, lotsa licking and sucking, nipple play, some praise (from reader) and some begging, brief mention of dacryphilia, kinda soft at the end

w/c: 1.5k sheesh

a/n: bokuto brainrot has me in literal tears. him being completely clueless to people flirting w him cus he doesn’t recognize romance from anyone but you has me so soft. i luv this man w my whole heart !!!!! ALSO THANKS FOR ALL THE LOVE ON THE BAKUGO FIC I JUST ABOUT SHIT MY PANTS WOOWWOWO

you weren’t an idiot. you knew that your boyfriend was attractive in literally every aspect of the word. he was sweet, patient, and kind, and what he lacked in academic smarts was made up tenfold in his emotional maturity and ability to read people. big and beefy, bokuto was all yours and all you wanted to stay trapped within his arms forever. unfortunately, to maintain the figure you adored so much and stay in shape for the volleyball season, he had to leave the four walls of your shared bedroom far more than you liked, having a daily obligation to spend a few hours at the gym.

once again, you weren’t an idiot. the few times that your work schedule and his training schedule aligned, you’d been able to work out together. and despite your knowledge of just how good-looking bokuto was and the fact that other people could perceive him (much to your chagrin) you were shocked at just how much people shamelessly flirted with him.

cute girls with matching leggings and sports bras practically clung to his biceps, gushing about how strong he was and how he could probably pick them up with just one hand. their incessant giggling, mesmerizing hair twirling, and teasing touches pissed you off to no end, and you’d tug your boyfriend away before their breasts got too close to him for your liking.

something else you noticed was that, no matter how blatantly obvious the girls seemed to be, the guys were somehow worse, flirting through terms you couldn’t even understand. they compared deadlift weights, bicep curls, hip thrusts; you gritted your teeth thinking about whether they’d ever compared cock sizes in the locker room—you wouldn’t put it past those thirsty gym rats. sneaky bastards.

and bokuto, of course, was oblivious to it all. how could you blame him—he was so used to being adored! you knew that, to him, all of their praises paled in comparison to yours, but you couldn’t help but feel jealous. he was all yours—should be all yours—and you hated sharing him with the world.

you woke up saturday morning with a ringing in your ears, hand smacking the nightstand trying to turn off that god-awful alarm noise, bleary eyes barely able to focus on the text notification from your boyfriend.

[5:33 AM] kou: gm babe!!!! i didnt wanna wake u up cus u looked so peaceful! im heading to the gym rn. text me when ur up! love uu

[5:34 AM] kou: should be home around 9!! gym bud wants to show me something so i might be a little late for breakfast.

just to reiterate, you weren’t an idiot. for all the annoying flirting you noticed when you were with bokuto, there was no doubt in your mind that there must be a lot more when he was at the gym alone, which, unluckily for you, was most of the time since he was a freakin’ pro athlete and all.

you couldn’t prevent the pool of envy from swirling in your gut. gym bud? are you serious? who could that be? the girl with the arm tat or the dude with the dreads? no, maybe its that yoga instructor with the ass—

you shook your head, clearing your brain. you’d be here for hours if you went through everyone at that stupid gym that had ever shown interest in bokuto. the clock read 9:53 AM and the green flame in your body only burned brighter. just as you were about to call him and ask where he was, the front door slammed open.

“babe! i’m home!”

you silently put your phone down, teeth still clenching in jealousy. for some reason, hearing his voice only exacerbated the tension in your shoulders. you needed him. now.

“babe?” his voice creeped closer as he tread through the hallway towards the room. “you up?”

you peeked your head out of the doorframe, cheery voice masking your devilish intentions, “kou!"

his eyes brightened as he made eye contact with you and flashed his trademark smile. “hey! what’s u-” he took in the mischievous glint in your eyes “-p?”

you grabbed his burly forearm, yanking him behind you and walking towards him, forcing him to stumble and fall back on the bed. “wait! i’m all gross and sweaty,” he said, “gym showers were broke-”

“i don’t care. take off your shirt.”

“wow, someone’s eager. missed me that much?”

“watch it,” you glared. “i’m not in the mood, kou.”

he gulped at the dominance radiating from your voice, scrambling to take off the t-shirt that stretched between his pecs perfectly. with the fabric off and throw haphazardly to the side, he looked to you expectantly, the epitome of innocence.

your eyes wandered over his sculpted chest, the remnants of a soft sheen of sweat from his workout making it shine in the sunlight pouring through the blinds. your heart stuttered in your chest—he looked like an angel. coupled with the way with his bottom lip was tucked under his front teeth and the wide, anticipating look in his eyes, fuck. you almost smiled how blessed you felt in that moment, to see him in such a raw, alluring position, before a jarring thought caused your lips to twitch back into a frown.

everyone else can see him, too.

your eyes hardened. maybe they can see him all big and strong, you thought, but they’ll never get to see him like this: submissive.

and so fucking sensitive.

within an instant, your lips were latched on the soft spot above his collarbone, causing him to whimper in pleasure. you continued to travel along his throat, slowly working your way to the other side of his neck and crossing back to nibble at his adam’s apple.

you unexpectedly pulled away, drawing a short whine from him, before repositioning yourself so that you were straddling his outstretched legs. slowly, starting from the hem of his shorts, you dragged your tongue between the ridges of his abs, moving up towards his pecs, tasting the saltiness of his sweat and feeling the muscles tense underneath.

“fuck,” he groaned. as your lips puckered around one of his peaked nipples, he uncontrollably jerked his hips up, inadvertently rubbing his sensitive cock between your legs. overwhelmed by the sensation, he moaned. “fuck.”

“you taste good,” you muttered, grazing your teeth over his other nipple. “just wanna taste you all the time. you’d let me, right?”

thoughts muddled by just how good everything felt, he nodded mindlessly. “i’d let you do- do anything. anything you wan’ to me. i’m yours. all- all,” his voice raised a few octaves as the inside of your thighs brushed past his cockhead, “yours. all yours.”

you paused. raising your head from his chest, you made eye contact with him, so intense he almost closed his eyes to shield himself from the blaze burning in your dilated pupils. “why’d you stop,” he begged, “i want more. feels so good and i wan’ mor-”

“say it again,” you demanded. “tell me that you’re mine.”

his eyes, glossed over and prickled with tears precariously close to falling, squeezed tightly as he spoke, unable to control the growing volume of his voice. “’m all yours. always. all yo- yours.” he gasped as you resumed your movements, pinching the sensitive skin around his v-line while fervently leaving sloppy kisses on his chest.

“good boy.”

he keened at your praise. another light touch to his cock combined with the passage of your mouth had him trembling, and his breath hitched as he cried out in warning, tears now flowing freely over his flushed cheeks. “m’ gonna cum, ‘m gonna, gonna cum.”

“yeah?” you whispered, lips brushing against his strained abs. “go ahead then.”

“fuck!” he whined, blabbering as you sat back and watched in awe of the beauty before you, a big strong man like him reduced to nothing more than a moaning mess. “fuck, fuck—you always make me feel so, s-so go-od, fuck i love you.”

with soaked shorts and an exhausted sigh, he dropped his head back onto the plush comforter of the bed. you flattened your palms on his quivering body, reeling from the aftershocks of his orgasm. he panted, running his fingers through your hair before nudging your face to look at him, staring at you with an expression of pure bliss and adoration. he studied you for a bit before declaring with a soft smile, “you’re the best. so fuckin’ happy that i’m yours.”

driven by affection, he sat up and reached his arms around your waist, snuggling his chin over your shoulder and mashing your chests, yours clothed and his naked, together. “kou wait!” you shrieked. “you’re all sweaty again! it’s gross!”

he chuckled. as if you hadn’t been spoiling him by licking it up just a few minutes ago. “you’re right. i‘m probably sweating more now than i was after my workout.”

at that, your ears perked up. “well maybe you should do home workouts more often then,” you teased.

“you’re right,” he repeated with a grin, “maybe i should.” if it meant more mornings like these, he’d forego the gym in a heartbeat.

that night, he canceled his gym membership. after all, he reasoned, it’s offseason anyway.

#i jus wanna lick him clean #sue me #kinky.inky #haikyuu smut #hq smut #haikyuu bokuto #bokuto smut #bokuto x reader #koutarou x reader #bokuto

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nymphbnny · 3 years

Text

perfect strangers

MINORS DNI // 18+

part one; part two; part three

genre: nsfw

pairings: jean kirschtein x female reader

word count: 2.6k

tags/warnings: penetrative sex, dom jean, fingering, praising kink, slight body worship, dirty talk, sneaky.

synopsis: your recent discovery makes you certain that you won't be able to control yourself around him and neither will he, hence you decide that it was time to make an agreement that was rather spicy.

a.n: hey babies! so i finally decided to turn this into a short series since some of you were intrigued with the idea of having a continuation for the previous part i wrote. i hope you like it, enjoy <3

“How was I supposed to know?!” I yelled as soon as Jean exited our apartment. I had put on a random t-shirt to follow Connie to his room, trying to convince him that I had no idea that I fucked his best friend.

“Y/n he literally told you his name is Jean and he was attending my party. You’re acting as you’ve never seen him before!” he scolded taking off his shirt and throwing it across his room.

“Oh for fuck’s sake Connie. The last time I saw Jean I was 16 and he didn’t look like that. He’s so fucking different now how was I supposed to know. And to be fair, he was studying abroad for I don’t know how many years, how was I supposed to know that he metamorphosed like that.” I motioned my arm out, my other hand resting on my hip.

He groaned, rubbing his temples before he looked back at me. “Look,” he spoke softly. “I don’t want to fight with you over this okay? You’re right, I should’ve told you that he was coming back. He graduated a year ago and was considering coming back to his hometown, here. Let’s just forget it all happened okay? It’s a simple misunderstanding.” I nodded, resting my head on his chest as he embraced me into a tight hug.

“Now go take a shower you reek of sex.” he snickered earning a punch on his arm. He winced rubbing his flesh, a proud smile setting on my face.

***

The week went by smoothly. I told Sasha and Hitch what happened and they both had different reactions. Hitch was gushing over the sex and Sasha on the other hand confessed that she forgot to mention that Jean was coming back to stay here. It’s okay though. We all passed it and I was working my ass off to finally graduate.

Connie was spending his days with Jean, which granted me a lot of peace and tranquility. At least, that’s what I thought.

I hadn’t spoken to Jean ever since we hooked up, figured that Connie already explained the whole situation and moved on.

Three knocks on my door broke my focus, a loud frustrated sigh leaving my lips. “What Connie!”

“Actually,” a voice on the other side of the door caught me off guard. “It’s Kirschtein. Can I come in?” A knot formed in my throat.

“Sure.” he turned the knob, slowly coming in. “Connie knows I’m here by the way.” I nodded, adjusting my seat.

“What’s up?” the tension was awkward. The tension shouldn’t even be present in the first place. But how could I not get aroused when he was wearing a black tank top showing off the tattoos on his sleeves with a pair of sweats. He looked effortlessly attractive.

“- and like I said it will never happen again. Y/n?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, yeah. Never happen again. I’m very sorry but I need to finish this assignment.” He chuckled and nodded leaving me alone with my thoughts. Did I just make him talk to himself because I was too busy checking him out?

I shook my head, assuming that whatever he said wasn’t worth my time. Time went by rather quickly and the assignment was done earlier than I expected. It was already ten pm, and I had promised the girls I was going to meet up with them for some drinks.

I picked my outfit and applied some makeup. Simple and effective. We were going to spend the night at Sasha’s so I didn’t make much effort to look hot.

The place was empty when I left and I assumed that Connie was helping Jean to rent an apartment for himself.

Sasha’s place wasn’t very far from mine. As a matter of fact, it only took me ten minutes to get there. Once I got there, the girls were already ordering pizza and picking out some movies to watch.

“Hey whores.” I greeted them, earning cheers from Hitch and Sasha. “Oh my god, Mikasa I missed you!” I rushed to the dark-haired girl who was sitting on the couch and engulfed her into a tight hug. I haven’t seen Mikasa since I moved with Connie. We used to live together, but after she and Eren got together, he wouldn’t leave her alone. So I figured it would be best if I left and lived with my brother.

“I missed you too! I looked for you everywhere at that party where were you?” she asked taking a sip of her soda. Hitch began coughing dramatically as Sasha giggled next to her. “Oh quit it.” I teased rolling my eyes.

I ended up telling her everything, her face displaying a plethora of expressions. “I mean, Jean did change I can’t argue with that. But didn’t he recognize you?”

I shrugged. “I changed too. Puberty hit me like a truck.”

“Cheers to that.” Hitch raised her cup. We laughed and talked for hours. I missed going out with them like that. Fortunately, college will be over soon and I’ll have some time for myself.

Movies were playing in the background but we paid them no mind. We ate our food and cleaned the living room, not wanting to bother Sasha with the cleaning since she was having Niccolo over tomorrow.

I glanced at the clock that was hanging above the door. I gathered my stuff and tucked them in my bag, drawing all of their eyes on me.

“Already? Come on stay longer!” Sasha whined. I smiled softly at her and shook my head.

“I can’t, I’ll see you guys soon.” I waved at them and walked out of the door.

***

“Connie! I’m ho- what are you still doing here?” I froze at the entrance, my keys still hanging from my index finger, my eyes fixated on him as he only stood in basketball shorts.

“What do you mean what am I still doing here. I moved in here remember?”

Silence. Nothing but intense and awkward silence. Moved in? Since when?

“I told you when I came into your room. Weren’t you listening to me?” I stared at him blankly, not able to explain how caught in thought I was when he came into my room. I was too busy checking him out to care about what he was trying to tell me.

“Why didn’t Connie tell me?” I closed the door and locked it slowly, my legs feeling weak, the idea of living with him and seeing him walking around like that making me weak. And extremely horny.

“He said he’d rather if I told you. You know, break the ice.” he shrugged and walked forward, his chest now a few inches apart from mine. “You changed a lot from what I remember.” he lowly said tucking my hair behind my ear.

“So did you,” I replied, staring at his lips. He licked his bottom lip and held my chin between his fingers, forcing me to maintain eye contact.

I was a sweating mess. I still couldn’t believe that this was Jean, the horse face. What kind of water did he drink, and how did he get so big? Look at those muscles-

A sudden feeling on my lips interrupted my chain of thoughts. I soon realized that he held my bottom lip between his brown ones. “Kiss me back y/n, I know you want to,” he whispered, his breath brushing up my face.

It didn’t take me long to pull him to me, crashing my lips on his. He was intoxicating in ways I couldn’t understand nor explain. I needed him close to me at the moment and I didn’t care why.

“Yo, Jean where did you my video game?!” Connie’s voice boomed from the hallway, forcing us apart. Realization slapped my face when I looked at him and saw his cocky smirk. I just kissed him, even though I promised myself I’d never do anything with him ever again.

“I’ll get it!” he yelled back, the same expression resting on his face, his back facing the hallway. “I’d apologize, but you pulled me back. Anyway, I’ll see around beautiful.” he winked and began walking towards Connie’s room, his back muscles flexing at his movements.

What am I doing with myself?

***

The atmosphere felt nice. I couldn’t sleep so instead I lied down on my bed and watched the stars from my window. I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened hours ago and how I had to sit with them and pretend as nothing happened.

Jean was certainly not the little boy he was years ago. He got more confident and a lot more handsome. He was fucking with me and I thought, why shouldn’t I fuck with him too?

After all, I know for sure he didn’t tell Connie anything. He’s too protective of me and if he knew, well let’s just say Jean would be moving out by tomorrow. He trusts him blindly and I honestly just think he doesn’t want me to hook up with him again because he’s just like him.

He likes to mess around. Not the type to stay in the morning after. But neither was I. I sighed and dragged my legs out of bed, my body following.

“Shit now I gotta pee,” I whined stomping slightly on the wooden floor. I ruffled my hair with my hand and slipped on my slippers. I was wearing Connie’s t-shirt, so it was long enough to hide my thighs.

I walked to the bathroom when suddenly a hand grabbed my arm and yanked me into the guest bedroom. My mouth was quick to be silenced by another hand as I was about to squeal.

My back collided with the wall, my hands pinned on each side of my head.

“Jean let me go.” I struggled to get out of his grasp but he kept grinning at me. “Sure.” He let go of his grasp.

I looked around to notice a towel on his bed. “I was going to take a shower but then I heard your footsteps, couldn’t let you get there before I did.” He walked away, throwing his towel over his shoulder.

“Is that all?” I cocked my eyebrow, crossing my arms. He looked me up and down before saying: “You tell me. Need anything else?”

I looked at him briefly, calculating my next move. “An agreement. Connie can’t know.”

“Fuck yeah.” he dropped his towel and stepped closer to me, holding my face with his hands as he crashed his lips on mine. I kissed him back instantly, my fingers finding their way through his hair.

His tongue slipped in, caressing mine. His hands went down my body to squeeze my ass, pulling me even closer to him. My hands traveled across his bare chest, going over his pecs and then gliding one hand down his abs, while the other sat on his shoulder.

We pulled apart, his arms going under my thighs to pull me up and sit me onto the mattress. He walked to the door, locking it before he looked back at me.

Jean crawled over my body, caging me between his arms. “Divine.” he smiled and sat up, his hands tugging at my top. I helped him take it off and threw it on his chair. I was nude underneath him. It wasn’t the first time, yet he still looked mesmerized.

He licked his lips, his fingers tracing my cunt before dipping into my entrance. I arched my back at the sudden intrusion, trying my best to remain quiet.

“I missed your little cunt.” he chuckled massaging my insides slowly. I gasped, my hand immediately covering my mouth.

He rubbed my bud with his thumb, his pace never changing. It was torturing and slow, but I knew we couldn’t make a lot of noise nor make lots of movements that could awake Connie. We had to go nice and easy.

My legs squirmed, the combination of playing my nipples and watching him touch like he does driving me to the edge. My eyes rolled to the back as he added a third finger, my walls clenching tightly around them as I felt myself orgasm around them. “Good girl.” he praised with a chuckle, removing his fingers from my opening.

“Suck your juices off come on.” he tapped my hand, motioning me to remove it and take his fingers in. I stuck my tongue out, his ling digits finding their way down my throat making me slightly gag. “I didn’t know you were such an obedient girl.” he cooed, as I sucked off my arousal.

Jean sat back up, removing his shorts along with his briefs, his erection slapping on my lower stomach. “As much as I’d love you to suck me,” he paused pumping his cock. “I have to say that I miss being inside you.” And with that, he slid all the way in, his mouth silencing my moans.

He stayed still for a while, his eyes staring into mine intensely, almost as if he was trying to tell me something. I nodded my head, his hips moving at my signal. His thrusts were slow and deep, going over every spot. I wrapped my arms around him, my forehead resting against his, as he breathed heavily.

“I want to fuck you dumb, but he’ll hear your moans.” he taunted rolling his hips, his tip almost hitting my cervix. “So good.” I whimpered, wrapping my legs around him, my heels digging into his lower back.

“Jean…” I was close and my legs were a shaking mess. “That’s right baby, say my name.” he breathed in my ear, slightly speeding up his thrusts. I bit onto his shoulder, my orgasm ripping through my body.

I tightened around him, his strokes getting sloppier. It came to my attention that he wasn’t wearing protection, and I wasn’t about to get adventurous like last time. “Jean… pull out…”

“Beg.” was his only reply to which I complied. “Please, anywhere, just not-“ He harshly pulled out, and instead of jerking himself on my stomach, he reached up to straddle my chest and stroked himself. “Open.”

I stuck my tongue out, his hand now replaced with mine as I jerked him off, ropes of cum shooting down my throat. “Such a good girl.” he chuckled, rubbing his hand over his face.

He got off me and pulled his hair back using both hands, his naked body walking around the bed to grab some tissues. He cleaned off my arousal and handed me some to clean the corners of my lips.

“If only you could see how messed up you look,” he smirked and threw me my t-shirt before grabbing his towel and sliding on his shorts.

I put on my top and got off his bed. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and internally yelled at myself. I looked like a mess. My hair was tangled and my skin was all sweaty. Guess I have to take a shower too.

I looked over at Jean to see him staring at me with an amused look on his face. “What?” I cocked my eyebrow. He shrugged and smiled at me. “Connie and I are going out to get some lunch tomorrow. What’d you say?” he requested.

“I mean yeah sure. But Jean he can-“

“Can’t know alright.” he rolled his eyes. We stared at each other for a minute before I decided to leave his room.

As I made my way past him, his hand flew to cup my swollen cunt. “This belongs to me.”

#jean kirschtein fanfiction #jean x reader smut #jean x you #jean kirschtein smut #jean kirschtein imagine #jean kirschtein x reader #jean x reader #jean kirschtien #jean kirstein #jean smut #aot requests #aot x reader smut #aot x reader #aot fandom #aot smut #snk smut #snk imagines #snk fanfiction #aot fanfiction

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rainieclown · 3 years

Text

DEADLY OBSESSION

michael myers x reader - chapter one: new neighbours

you've been in the haddonfield memorial hospital for what felt like forever with ptsd from a robbery gone wrong when a new patient gets thrown in next to you. he's quiet, perfect company if it weren't for the high security around him.

tags: medication, hospital settings, this is before michael gets out of the hospital, orphan! reader btw, it's spoken about more in detail in the fic, michael being a mute for a while, he does speak in this tho, smut, first times, michael being inexperienced, creampie, biting/marking, big dick michael energy, hymen ripping btw

warnings: ptsd themes, therapy, mentions of murder and depression, eventual smut, loss of virginity, mild blood, slight breeding kink on michael's end

a quick note!

if anything related to the ptsd the reader experiences is incorrect/wrong please let me know so i can correct it and learn! i am researching this so i can to write it with the accuracy it deserves<3

three sharp knocks wake you from your nightmare, you sigh at the sight of the ceiling of your hospital room. bland, the room is so incredibly bland. "y/n, medication time!" the nurse that takes main care for you chirps happily through the door, and you let out a wheeze as you sit up and pull on a shirt. "coming." you say, voice monotone and small. opening the door, you see the nurse with a tray, but what does capture your eye is the guards standing by a door nearby. "miss burnham, what's going on there?" you quirk a brow, taking your sertraline from miss burnham as well as the glass of water. "oh it's just a new patient, don't worry." the nurse brushes your question off with a kind smile as she takes the now empty glass back. "come on, breakfast then art therapy!" she beams, gesturing for you to follow her. you glance at the door again, before leaving with miss burnham.

breakfast is bland too, no sugar in the porridge, no fruit, no juice. it's so distastefully bland that you want to push it away but you don't want to get told off for not eating by mrs finch who was the more strict nurse that worked on supervision in the more social places, most of the time anyway. miss burnham sits across from you, reading over your schedule from her clipboard. "so, after art therapy is your free period, what do you want to do then?" she asks, looking up at you. "can we watch a movie with the others?" you ask softly, and miss burnham's eyes brighten. "you want to socialise today?" she beams and you sigh, taking a sip of water. "sure." you say softly, glancing around the cafeteria. "that's amazing, that will make outstanding progress!" she smiles, resting her cold hand on yours but pulls away when you flinch. "sorry, i forget." she says softly, but you sigh. "it's alright." you say, spotting a scruffy teen who looked to be the same age as you being directed to an empty table.

miss burnham hums and turns to see what you're looking at. "oh, that's mr myers, he's your new neighbour." she says when she turns back to you. "he looks interesting." you say, observing the cuffs on his wrist. myers plops down at the table, ignoring the bowl they put in front of him. "hmm, stay away from him. he seems to be under high security." miss burnham says, turning back to look at myers. the boy's eyes flicker to yours and your breath hitches, a sense of mild panic rising in your throat. "if you're done, we can go to the yellow room to do some painting with doctor piers." burnham says softly, pulling your attention back to her. "sure.." you mumble, and follow her out the door, past myers who watches you the whole way.

doctor piers is a happy man who greets you loudly. you don't like his suffocating energy, so miss burnham sits you down in your quiet corner and gives you your sketchbook. you sit quietly and draw things from your childhood, things that make you happy, all while miss burnham actually colours in a colouring page with the pencils you use. you felt peaceful with her by your side, she was like your big sister considering she was close to your age. "ooh, i like him." miss burnham smiles, tapping her nail next to the rough sketch of snufkin from the moomins. "thanks..." you reply quietly, letting the nurse push the pencils to you so you can colour him in.

for once, you don't feel alone... don't feel isolated with your thoughts and bad memories. miss burnham is your safe place, your new family. "so, y/n. are you interested in anyone in particular that you want to befriend?" miss burnham asks, the scratching of her pencil on paper stopping as she leans forward as if the two of you were gossiping about crushes. "not really... just think it's good to try and ease myself back into being around people other than you." you shrug, putting the green pencil down to pick up a yellow one. "that's still good. do you want to try and finish the drawing of him." she asks, flipping the page carefully to the recreation of that fateful night. your breath hitches as you stare at the charcoal drawing of the man standing over your mother. "what else do you remember, if there's anything else?" burnham asks, watching you carefully.

it comes back in waves, it was supposed to be a robbery, your family was in the wrong place at the wrong time, the blood spatter, the ornament that was used as a weapon dripping with the red substance. tears fill your eyes as you let out a shuddery breath. "no." you say firmly, wanting to push the book away. "are you sure, you haven't drawn any facial features for him.. it will help the investigation a lot." your nurse reminds you, and your hand tightens on the pencil. "i don't want to!" you snap, getting up abruptly, chair screeching back. "okay, okay. deep breaths." burnham stands too, fighting the urge to gently rub your arm soothingly. "i don't want to think about it." you hiss, storming off. nurse burnham calls after you, and doctor piers looks up to see you making a run for it. "y/n, wait!" he tries, but you swerve him and run out the door.

nurse burnham can't keep up in her high heels, and you outrun her easily, making your way to your room after losing her. you're alone again, and you catch sight of myers, sat in his room just as alone as you are. the guard is talking to doctor loomis, a man who gives you the creeps. seeing an opportunity to get past, you slip into your room quickly, once again isolating yourself. in his own room, michael had spotted you through the glass on his door, and he walks up, peering into your room as best he can. "hey! back up, myers." the guard bangs his door, now without loomis's presence, but michael doesn't move. he's unfazed by the guard's aggressive nature. the noise spooked you, you looked like a deer in headlights as you stare back at him.

you seem... disturbed by something, and that upsets michael. the feeling in his chest, to grab you and hide you from the world grows at the look in your eye. michael's hand finds the door, and he yoinks it open once the guard unlocked it in an attempt to push him back into his cell. "hey! what're you-?" he cuts the guard off, knocking the man out easily. his body hits the floor as michael opens your door easily. you gasp, back hitting the corner of your wall as you tried to make yourself as small as possible. "please, don't hurt me! i didn't do anything!" you yell, and michael shakes his head as he closes your door. "leave me alone." you repeat the three words like a prayer, voice quieter as your hands grip your hair with stress. "i'm not going to hurt you." michael rasps painfully, shocked at how deep his voice had gotten in comparison to the last time he spoke.

his words don't seem to get through to you, and he grows mildly annoyed. eventually, michael sits next to you and pulls you into a tight hug, hoping it would help as he had no idea what to do. you yelp in surprise, breathing slowing with confusion as you look up at the brunette with furrowed brows. "i-.. what..?" you stumble for words, but michael doesn't say anything, his empty eyes observing you. "thank you..." you mumble, once you calm down, and michael nods. "what's your name..?" you ask quietly, and michael continues to stare before answering.

"michael." he rasps, pointing at himself. "nice to meet you, michael. i'm y/n." you reply, eyes averting from his anxiously. michael sits with you as you start thinking. more intrusive thoughts break in, and you can't help the small whimper that escapes you as you rub your forehead. michael tilts his head, observing you. "sorry... it's just..." you sigh trying to find an explanation that didn't include what you thought of. "do you ever get intrusive thoughts?" you ask, finally looking at michael. the other teen nods, and you deflate with relief, he'd understand you. "they suck, don't they?" you chuckle half-heartedly, and michael shrugs. "oh, do they not bother you as much?"

he doesn't reply, and you nod slightly. "want me to show you around? i need to take my mind of things." you suggest, getting up and looking at the boy on your floor. michael seems to think for a moment before nodding and following you. you step over the guard carefully, and gesture for michael to follow you. the click-clacking of heels makes you grab the other teen's hand as you pull him around a corner. "shh! they'll be looking for me." you can't help but smile at the make-shift game of cat and mouse. it's been a while since you got to play games. michael blinks at you, letting you lead him around. "this is the rec room, it's the best room here. if you have a free period this is the best place to go. they let you watch anything they have." you smile, creaking the door open carefully.

doctor addison spots you and rushes over. "nurse burnham is looking for you." he whisper yells and you nod. "i'm showing the new guy around so shh!" you say, putting a finger up to your mouth. "it's good to see you getting out of your comfort zone. if i see her i'll tell her you're helping doctor loomis." he winks, and you smile slightly. "thanks addison." you say, pulling michael away from the room. "who's that?" michael's deep voice makes you jump. "oh, doctor addison? he's so cool, he'll give you snacks for after hours." you smile up at him, and michael notes the personality of the doctor. easy target to begin with. "you've seen the cafeteria so let's go to the gardens next." you say, peering around a corner carefully before ducking back, your back bumping into michael's chest. "my nurse is coming, quick, we can hide in here!" you whisper yell, pulling michael into doctor addison's office.

you close the door carefully, and michael observes the room. the decor is very vintage yet comfy, it suits the doctor quite well. you press your ear to the door carefully, listening as miss burnham speaks to doctor addison. you gasp as michael pulls you from the door, hand grasping your wrist. "are you alright?" you ask carefully, looking up at the brunette who didn't seem bothered. he shrugs, simply holding you near to him. your presence stirred something in him, and he didn't know if he should kill you or hold you closer. michael spots a candle stick, and his eyes dart from it to you.

michael lets out a silent breath as he decides on the latter, tugging you into his chest. your breath hitches as you hit his large frame, and your eyes come back to him. craning his head down, michael buries his face into the crook of your neck. you make a small noise, unsure of what to do as he takes in your scent. "uh... michael?" you furrow your brows, hands raised awkwardly as you didn't know where to put them. "shh." he hushes you, hands finding your hips. "what are you-?" your question is cut off by his lips grazing your neck, and it all clicks into place.

your body froze up, michael made a silent note of this. "i- uh.." you stammer as he continues to kiss your neck. "fuck, michael. we shouldn't do this." you say softly, glancing to the door. michael hushes you as his teeth nip your skin, he was testing the waters with you. your knees felt weak as your eyes fluttered shut. it had been so long since you had got to do anything like this, since you got to feel like a teenager. your hand find's michael's fluffy hair as you move his head closer to you.

taking the small success, michael sinks his teeth into your neck fully. the feelings in his chest explode as he finally marks you, suckling the dark bruise onto your skin. you whimper at the feeling, your other hand resting on his chest. eventually, his lips move again, and they find your jaw. you hum, letting him press closer to you as his lips kiss up your your own. when your lips meet, michael's inexperience really shows, he doesn't really know what to do so you take the lead.

eventually, his lips copy your movement as his hands tighten on your hips. you hum into his mouth, fingers gently stroking his scalp as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss. it felt right, and you didn't know why. eventually, when michael pulls away, you gaze into his eyes and notice the scar over his right one. "oh, what happened?" you ask, fingertips gently grazing over the scar on his eyes. upon closer look, his iris was paler than the other, and you guessed his vision was poor from the one eye. you're not able to get a closer look as michael kisses you again. you hands cup his face as you melt into him, lips moving against his fluently. michael moves with you, and you gasp as your lower back hits the desk in the room. the other teen's strong hands lift you and plop you down so you're sitting on the hard wood of the table.

your arms wrap around michael's neck to kiss him again, and he's happy that you're slowly beginning to show interest in him. you make a small noise as michael pulls your legs around his waist, standing between them with his pelvis pressing against yours. teasingly, you shuffle your hips against him as you kiss him again. michael growls softly, grinding into you as he grasps your thighs roughly to stop your movements. "i've never done this before." you admit, keeping him close as he hums. "me neither." he shrugs, kissing you again. you feel eased by michael's lack of experience, it felt like the two of you were experimenting together and that comforts you.

eventually, michael's fingers find the waistband of your pants and you whimper as he tugs them down easily. "no underwear?" he chuckles softly, and your cheeks heat up. "some of us don't have that luxury." you mumble, averting his gaze. "it's fine." he shrugs, fingers brushing over your slit. you gasp at the feeling of him spreading you open, and can't help but move your hips against his digits. his middle finger teases your wet hole, and you whine when he collects some of it to bring into his mouth. you feel slightly embarrassed as he suckles your pleasure off his finger with no shame before moving his hand back down to rub his fingers over your slit again.

your smaller hand finds his, and you guide his fingers to your clit with a small moan. catching your meaning, michael's rough fingers start rubbing small circles over your bud. you gasp, back arching into him as his fingertips stimulate you. "fuck, michael!" you whimper, hands grasping his shirt to pull him closer. he hums at your words, moving so his thumb abused your clit whilst his fingers slowly pushed your hole open. you whine as his fingers press into you, your hymen stretching uncomfortably. "michael, please- i need you." you whimper, letting him lay you back on the desk. removing his hand from you, he pulls down his own pants, erection springing free.

you freeze slightly at his size, unsure if he'll fit. michael notes your uneasiness as rubs your outer thighs softly. you smile nervously as his tip rubs against your cunt, your hands grasping his anxiously as he slowly pushes into you. you wail as his cock rips your hymen, and michael smiles as your blood slowly smears his cock. "it hurts!" you whimper, grabbing his arms tightly with discomfort. michael shushes you, and gives you small kisses until you stop whining. once you've settled around the intrusion and your pussy adjusts to his dick, you give him the nod to say that you're ready. michael slowly pushes in so that he's fully sheathed before pulling out half way. you whimper at the feeling, pleasure slowly overtaking the dull pain you still felt.

eventually, michael finds a medium pace in you, smiling as his cock bobs through the skin of your stomach. you whimper, holding michael's arms even tighter as he fucks into you. "oh fuck..!" you yelp as his tip protrudes from your abdomen. "sh." he replies quickly as your back arches off the table. "fuck, michael- oh!" you press your hand over your mouth to muffle your moans as he speeds up. eventually, his hand moves and starts rubbing fast circles on your clit. you gasp and keen loudly behind your palm as your thighs tremble around his hips. michael grips the flesh of your outer thighs tightly as he adjusts your legs towards you at an awkward angle. despite the weird position, you moan loudly as his cock pushes deeper into you, his tip kissing your womb.

michael hums at the feeling as his hand gets tired of stimulating you, so as a substitute, he brings his hand down onto your swollen bud harshly. you wail at the sting of his slap, pleasure rolling through your body. taking that as a good sign, michael waits before slapping your clit again harder. unexpectedly, you cum on his cock as you shudder and tremble under him. your cunt squeezes michael's cock tightly, preventing him from moving. the way your gummy walls grip him as you twitch around him is too much, so michael pushes into your womb so his cum filled you up.

you gasp at the feeling of his hot seed spilling into you, and michael seems to be loving it because when you come down from your high and loosen around him slightly, he's fucking his cum into you. you can't help but let out a small noise with every thrust, whimpering when michael stops, satisfied with how deep his cum had gone. your womb drinks up his seed nicely as you let michael grab your hands to pull you up into a sitting position. slumping against him, you nuzzle into his chest, your eyes becoming droopy with exhaustion. he grins at your sated state, pulling your pants up for you. once he is dressed as well, he picks you up carefully to bring you back to your room to rest.

michael ignores the nurses who try to stop him, marching past them as he carries your sleepy form to his room instead. he didn't know much, but he did know that only armed guards as well as doctor loomis were only allowed in his room for safety reasons and it was his best bet of keeping you with him. carefully opening his door, he closes it behind him with his foot and watches as the nurses stand anxiously peering through the window. he puts you down carefully on his bed, letting you settle as he sits down. his eyes find the nurses, one of them had left, probably to get security or doctor loomis. rolling his eyes, michael moves his attention back to you. you had already dozed off, and michael looks down to your stomach. the idea of you being swollen with his child excites him, a true marking. however, his hatred for children conflicts that, and he feels slightly frustrated.

three sharp knocks on the door can be heard, and michael lazily looks back over. doctor loomis is standing there, and he looks furious, but michael will stand his ground for you.

#michael myers x reader #michael myers #halloween resurrection

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