#do not judge me I have to get the feelings down before polishing off the fanfic

[osirian-rises]

God I love these teenagers.

[frudoo]

just saw the anon for reader helping slasher 141 and now im thinking about actually doing the whole thing. like finding someone, kidnapping them and torturing them. she does it as a gift or surprise. maybe its their anniversary and she wants to give them the best gift ever.

I love this idea, but I just can't see reader ever participating in the torture aspect of her boys' work. She's absolutely not above kidnapping, though.

Warnings: Dark!Fic/DDDNE. Y'all this one is gross (just not in a gory way). Kidnapping/drugging.

 “I have to say, little girl, you look absolutely delicious tonight.”

     You giggle, allowing him to twirl you and trying not to suffocate on the smell of his cheap cologne. The man is loaded and he won’t even spend a pretty penny on some quality fragrance? Although, what else could you expect from a conman like him?

     “Not so bad yourself, Mr. Chief,” you purr, yelping softly when he pinches your asscheek teasingly.

     You want to vomit. Really, you could do it right here, all over his pristinely polished shoes, or on his tailored suit jacket and annoyingly bright tie. The fact that you’ve managed to keep this charade up for the past couple of weeks is astonishing, to say the least, especially given the fact that you’ve been hiding it from the boys. It kills you to see their disappointed faces every time you turn down a night in with them, making up poor excuses about how you’re just going to decorate your classroom, or that your friend has been having a rough time and you’re going to her house to support her.

     The truth is that you’re doing it for their benefit. Herschel Shepherd has been on your boys’ radar for years now, long before they ever met you. It’s just been too risky for them to attempt anything, be it a kidnapping or assassination. He’s too public of a figure as head of police, meaning that he’s protected by a multitude of security personnel, and on top of that, can easily defend himself. Even if they tried to befriend him, suspicions would be raised and it would likely fail.

     That’s where you enter. You’re exactly the chief’s type—a pretty young thing with big, soft tits and a charming smile. The only thing you’re missing is the naivety he’s so desperate to corrupt, but you’ve proven yourself a wonderful actress and he’s none the wiser. For someone who used to be a detective, he really is clueless. Someone should have taught the old man not to flirt with strangers on the internet. You’re just grateful that he took the bait so easy, all too eager to get his dick wet. 

     “Since I’ve treated you to such a nice dinner, how about giving me some dessert?” You hear his knees pop when he bends to whisper into your ear.

     “Anything for you,” you murmur back, “Daddy.”

     For the love of all things holy, you cannot wait to get this bullshit over with. Shepherd wraps his arm around your waist and ushers you into his limo—he really wanted to go all out for his ‘girlfriend,’ apparently. The inside smells like cigar smoke and you have to bite back a frown. It makes you think of John and how desperately you’d prefer to be in his arms instead. In all of their arms. With every disgusting, sloppy kiss the sick fuck peppers across your jawline, you have to remind yourself that it’s all for them.

     For them, for you, for every poor family he’s ever screwed over. It’s all too familiar, the coverups, the paying off coworkers and employees so that they keep their mouths shut. You’ve read about countless cases against heinous criminal acts that were suddenly dismissed when a certain slob threw a large sum of money towards the judges. You can’t even begin to imagine how many women alone have been assaulted because this corrupt piece of shit paid to let their abusers go—and for what? To gain favor? To get reelected? God knows he cheats his way through the system anyway.

     You feel your hand being tugged and realize that you’ve arrived at the parking lot where your car still is, some random garage located in the heart of the downtown area—about an equal walk from any little shop or restaurant in the vicinity. Your ‘date’ furrows his eyebrows and looks at you, confused.

     “A little Toyota Corolla is more inconspicuous than a limousine, don’t you think?” you hum as you pull out your keys.

     “Right,” Shepherd nods, opening the driver’s side door for you. “We are still going to the hotel?”

     “Of course.”

     He buckles into the passenger seat while you start the car, messing with the air conditioning like it’s his right. You avoid rolling your eyes as you begin driving, softly humming along to the radio. There’s a tin of mints in your glovebox that you pull out and offer to him. All according to plan, he takes the bait.

     Almost instantly after popping the tainted mint into his bastard mouth, he starts getting woozy, saying odd things and swaying in his seat. Adrenaline rushes through your veins—this is really happening. You’re kidnapping the chief of police, your husbands’ most desired target, driving him back to your home to be tortured and killed. It’s surreal, and there’s guilt eating away at whatever sense of retribution you’d created in your head. Still, there’s no turning back now.

     No turning back from the rattle of his unconscious body as you drive over the gravel path leading to the barn. No turning back from the strain you put on yourself as you haul his deadweight through the random pieces of hay, nor the act of tying his arms behind the metal pole in the stable where horses should be but has only kept victims. This is a decision you made and will have to live with. For the greater good, you ask yourself, or for the praise you know you’ll receive from your boys? In the end, it’s all one and the same to you. 

     As you stand over the comatose-laden sleazebag, you hardly make out the sound of the barn door slamming open and all four of your lovers trailing in with wide eyes.

     “Bloody hell.”

     “No fuckin’ way.”

     “Steamin’ Jesus, hen.”

     “Darlin’, how in the fuck did you manage this?”

     There’s a beat of silence before you turn around to look at them, your face maddeningly neutral.

     “Happy anniversary, guys.”

[gogobootz1]

The Mentor pt. 5

Finnick Odair x Reader

Summary: You throw a two-person housewarming party at your new Capitol penthouse

part four | part six

The hardwood floor is cold beneath your back as you look up at the ceiling. You haven't even had a full day here and you don't know how you'll get through this. When the phone rings you don't bother to stand. Reaching your arm up and feeling around on the couch-side table, you manage to grab it in time. “Hello?” You stretch the cord down to where you lay.

“You made it, then,” Finnick’s voice rings through the phone. “Sorry I couldn’t meet you at the station,” he told you he would, the consistent phone calls over the past two weeks have effectively established a friendship between the two of you. “Something came up last minute.” You have no trouble reading between those lines.

“I figured as much,” you shrug, “it was for the best anyway. I was sent straight to my first engagement when I arrived- didn’t even get to stop in the new penthouse.” 

“Already? That seems cruel.” 

“Tell me about it,” you shake your head and roll your eyes. 

“How is the new apartment?” It’s large and towards the top of the building with private, elevator-only access. It disgusts you. 

“Cold and lifeless,” you spit dramatically, and he chuckles a bit. “Well, save for an odd lamp,” you admit, curling up a bit to look at it.

“Don’t tell me you have the corn lamp.”

You bolt upright, “How did you know?” There's no way he could guess that there's a huge plastic head of corn that lights up neon in your living room.

“Because I can see it clearly from my apartment,” he tells you. You stand and make your way to the floor-length windows, stretching the phone cord to the point you pull the receiver off the table. You can make out a figure waving from a different apartment building in your same complex, and you wave back. “Were you lying on the floor?” 

“Don’t judge me,” you say, still waving. 

“Hey! How about a housewarming gift?” You can practically hear him smirking through the phone, and you amusedly shake your head. 

“Sure.” 

Soon enough, the elevator doors reveal Finnick, dressed casually but looking no less dashing, with a bottle in hand. “Whiskey for your welcome present," he offers, and you snatch it from his hand. 

“And what a warm welcome it is,” you go digging through sleek new drawers to try to find a corkscrew. Finnick makes himself at home, hopping over the back of your couch and settling into it. Pouring two drinks, you walk around the furniture to join him. 

“It’s worse in person,” he says, accepting the drink while staring at the corn lamp. 

“I’ve been trying not to look at it,” you nod, taking a long sip. It’s smooth, too. Of course, he has expensive bottles just lying around, ready to share. 

“I don’t see how you can,” he shakes his head, still staring at it, “it’s shining like the fucking sun.” 

“Don’t burn your eyes,” you warn, setting your cup down on the glass table. 

He still doesn’t look away, “Did they get confused? Think you’re from Nine?” 

“No,” you say, now looking at the lamp too, “Whoever put it in here probably just forgot what Ten does.” 

“Or they just didn’t bother redecorating before shoving you in here,” he shrugs. The two of you stare at it for a bit. 

“Okay, now I hate it,” you admit, polishing off your glass of whiskey. 

“Only now?” 

“Well, I was perfectly content to ignore it before you waltzed in and started staring at it,” you say petulantly. 

“You really could’ve ignored it?” 

“Probably,” you defend, “it would’ve just melted into the background.” 

“You’re deluded,” he shakes his head. 

"Better than burning the image into my eyes,” you argue. 

“You might be right, actually,” he admits. 

“So now, what am I supposed to do with it?” Finnick finishes his drink before hopping up. 

“I’ve got some ideas.” 

First, he unplugs it and throws his hands out to re-present it to you. You give him an unamused stare and get up to grab the whiskey bottle.

Next, he drapes a blanket over it. You shake your head at the attempt, and he swiftly replaces the blanket on your sofa. Finnick takes the whiskey bottle from your hand to take a swig before his next attempt, despite your protests.

Then, he tries dragging it into a closet. The door won’t close all the way, and you give him a firm thumbs down. He pouts.

When he drags it into your all too large standing shower you slap his arm, and he snickers.

Finally, Finnick drags it into your elevator. At first, you are aghast, but then an idea comes to you. You grab his shoes and throw them at him in the elevator. He looks put out by this until he sees you slip on a pair of your own. Grabbing a coat and the blanket from the couch, you join him and the corn. You drape the blanket over his shoulders before pushing the button for the roof.  

“Two prostitutes and a life-sized head of corn walk into a bar-“ he jokes, and you snort. 

When the elevator dings, you drag the lamp off of it and through a thin layer of snow. It’s heavier than he made it seem, but once you get it a few feet onto the terrace it looks intentional. You breathe a sigh of relief. 

“Perfect,” he says, wrapping an arm around the lamp. “You know, I think I might miss this thing,” he turns to look at you, but moves too fast and stumbles, sending the giant lamp into the rooftop swimming pool. 

You let out an audacious laugh, “Even better.” 

“Now, how is this different from my shower idea?” 

You give him a faux glare, before sitting down on one of the benches. He slowly joins you. 

“Thanks for this,” you nod, gesturing at where the lamp bobs in the pool, “it was nice to get my mind off things. This is harder than I thought it'd be."

“Oh?” He asks softly.  

 You shake your head, “She’s pissed at me.” You fiddle with the sleeve of your coat. He looks over with furrowed brows, and you go on, “for my leaving so soon. Says I’m abandoning her when she needs me most.” 

He knows you’re talking about Darla, “That’s not true.” 

“Isn’t it?” 

“You’ve given up a lot for her, she’s not allowed to make you feel guilty,” he asserts. 

“Tell that to her,” you scoff. 

“Maybe I will.” 

“You can’t,” your hand shoots to his wrist, and the look in your eye says you mean business. 

“I can at least tell her to back off. Your job was hard enough without what you’re taking on for her,” Finnick argues. 

You shake your head, “She’ll laugh at you. She thinks I’m a glorified model.” He pauses at this. 

“You still haven’t told her?” 

“Why should I when it’d make her that much more indignant. She’s dealing with victordom poorly as is.” 

“She has no inkling of what you really do?” 

“Well, they do a mighty fine job hiding it,” you shrug, “the tabloids call you a playboy. My busy work around town usually explains my presence here, and I’m sure they’ll find a way to spin my extended stays.” 

Finnick huffs, “You’re astounding.” He looks over his shoulder, out on the cityscape, snow gently nestling itself into his golden waves. 

“I’m not quite sure how to take that,” you stare at his profile before turning to see the view as well. 

“As a compliment, of course,” he says quietly, "you’re doing a selfless act and accepting backlash for it."

"What other choice did I have?" You shake your head.

"A lesser person would’ve made a different choice," he says assuredly, "but you couldn’t because you're the kindest, most noble person I know."

But you don’t feel like it. And you don’t feel like you deserve his praise. All you do is your best: trying to keep up appearances, keep it all together, protect who you love. And it doesn’t always work. Sometimes, it’s all out of your control, like dirt slipping through the cracks in your fingers. Your lip trembles, and you try not to let the tears in your eyes spill over, though the brisk air makes it difficult. After a moment, you center yourself enough to look his way. 

He’s already looking at you, those big green eyes gazing into your soul, “You’re astounding.” There it is again. 

You’re not sure you can bear to hear anymore. Removing an icy hand from your jacket pocket, you cup his cheek and plant a soft kiss on the other one. “Goodnight,” it’s barely a whisper, but you hope it makes up for leaving him alone in the cold.  

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

I wrote the end of this first and made myself sad so I had to go back and write some goofy bullshit <3 in terms of the rest of this series I’m thinking two(ish) more parts and they may be collections of vignettes- we’ll see

taglist: @emerald-09 @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @daixylie@imaegonstargaryenswife0@fandomhopped@axelinchen @whens-naptime @avoxrising @erindiggory @commanderfreethatdust @blackdxggr @maxinehufflepuffprincess @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @melagemo0263

also I'm getting lazy, so no pic of him up top this time- sorry people

[shineonyoucrazyyandere]

One thing I love to day dream about is the yandere and their darling doing beauty treatment 💕 In my case it's Kakyoin. He is definitely the type of boy really care about beauty stuff like having a skincare routine or doing his hair in perfect curve shape. He is expert in this field although he is a boy (completely opposite me, I don't know how to do it although I'm a girl 😭)

I'm sure he will this advantages to be touchy with darling. Here, let he help you putting on the face mask. This nail color is suit you, let he pain it for you. You need help with your hairstyle, don't worry, he is a pro.

I believe he use lip balm cherry flavor too. And when darling joking ask him does it taste good, he will immediately kiss them and pretend nothing wrong with that action "What, you ask about how it taste so I just let you taste it."

Kakyoin is certainly the most thorough when it comes to beauty/haircare/skincare. Of course if he’s going to find a way to slip you into doing something with him no matter how small. Just the slightest extra amount of time alone with the redhead has him thrilled. Why don’t you try a little face mask? They’re not difficult to deal with in the slightest.

He’ll fixate on anything you seem to fancy yourself towards, that’s his primary objective firstly. Just your hair? Perfect, let him brush/comb, or even trim/cut it (it doesn’t make a difference how short or how long it is) He’ll even manage to get you a nice scent of shampoo/conditioner to use. It just happens to be something that he loves on you fragrance wise, but he keeps this to himself.

No make up or a make up every day kind of person doesn’t matter to Kakyoin, he always seems to come up with something to keep you around him longer. Little things that any person should keep up with. Helping with lotion to keep skin from drying out (or sunscreen). The way he does anything with you feels rather nice, gentle even. His heart is practically drumming out of his chest every time he touches you. Yet there’s a firm, focused face, seemingly concentrated on your form no matter the area.

Every little thing Kakyoin does well from painting nails to even simply massaging your scalp, he has the slightest hope to keep coming you coming back. If not he’ll keep coaxing you back, and making the experience pleasant as possible. Let’s not mention if things go south and you run off, that he wouldn’t eventually tie you down acting like nothing happened before proceeding with your usual routine. Even fawning over you right there as if he isn’t terrifying you right there and then.

Somehow he might figure out your favorite color of nail polish, he gets real particular with anything you do to take care of yourself honestly. (He won’t forget a single step no matter how complex either)

As for his own routine of going a little more into things most men don’t usually incline themselves to. He sees it as a good thing to go the extra effort of grooming to keep a presentable appearance. Honestly he didn’t care about any outside opinions on how he takes care of himself anyway, the insults slide right off of him. He won’t judge you either for not really wearing make up (why would he? That would be ridiculous)

If anyone trashes your appearance however, he’s going to make sure they’re taken care of personally with hierophant green.

Now if you compliment him that’s a completely different story, he’s ecstatic. Practically sealing your fate, as he’ll coast off your cute compliments for years to come.

+ Bonus

When out shopping, he doesn’t really mind. He’d likely be the first to volunteer (practically no one else is able with how quick Kakyoin is). Offers to buy something nice to try if you hadn’t done it before, (or just need more).

[superblysubpar]

masterlist | the music

15.8k words | This is an 18+ NSFW series | A/N at the end

You’ve done bad things in your life. Tiny, inconsequential sorts of things in the grand scheme of the universe. Small white lies told to spare feelings or cut corners like letting your mom believe you liked her haircut or using spark notes in high school instead of reading the assigned chapters. Granted there have been several spiteful moments like allowing your boss to go into a meeting with lipstick on her teeth. 

It’s all relatively normal though, never more than a tick on the good versus bad meter. You’ve always known that deep down you’re a good person. 

You’re not so sure anymore. 

The orange flicker of the quickly melting candles illuminates your flushed skin. Chipping polished fingers clamp your ruined underwear against the countertop you lean on. Chest heaving as you try to get your breathing under control. Steve’s next to you, thigh almost touching yours. His white top has a new button undone, his gold chain and the start of his sweat matted chest hair on full display now - catching the light, glistening with every flicker of the flame. You hate that the sight is almost enough to distract you from your predicament, that it makes you wish you hadn’t been interrupted. 

Eddie leans against the wall across from the two of you. His arms folded over his chest, black tshirt stretched across muscles almost as tight as his clenched jaw. His large brown eyes dance between yours and Steve’s. Eyes that give his true feelings away - as his mouth ticks up into a judging smirk, those eyes are pools of hurt. The confidence you had witnessed all day quickly draining from them as he peers at you. 

Tongue jutting out to lick his lips as he throws his hands up, “Jesus fucking Christ, will one of you say something?”

Your mouth opens as Steve’s fingers rub at his temples before sliding into his hair with a long huff of breath through his nose. Steve speaks before you’re able to force any words out of your parted lips. “Well, now you know. We can talk about it later. Let’s get out of here,” the last part directed to you. Not a question, but it doesn’t feel like a command either. It’s a request. 

Something in his tone, the way Steve’s hazel eyes plead with yours makes your heartbeat turn rapid again - throbbing in your ears. Your entire body kicks into overdrive, alcohol mixing with adrenaline and thoughts of what all of this means for you and Steve. 

Steve’s eyebrows raise at you expectantly, and Eddie’s voice is soft as he speaks to you, “So you were just using me to get him, right? Make him jealous? None of that was…”

Eddie straightens as he trails off. Eyebrows pinched together, cheek pulled between teeth in thought. Stepping towards him, you shake your head vigorously. Feeling like you’re being ripped in half. “No, Eddie, I promise you, I-” faltering on how to explain it all, to ease some of the hurt you caused, you push out, “We were already sleeping together and-”

Eddie’s gaze shoots over to Steve, eyes settling into a harsh glare as his finger shoves into Steve’s chest. Steve’s eyes roll as his shoulders do the same at Eddie’s hiss, “Dude. I straight up asked you if you were into her or had anything going on and you said no and that Robin-”

“Well we are and we do, so.” Steve shrugs, too casual about it all. He swats Eddie’s finger away like it’s an annoying gnat and not attached to the friend he lied to. The two boys sit in a staring contest, jaw’s clenched and eyes darkening and your blood boils from the words exchanged and Steve’s attitude. Your adrenaline tipping from flight to fight as you watch Steve push out his chest and Eddie take a step closer, shaking his head slightly. 

Your eyes turn on Steve, “Hold on. We’re not together.” Eddie’s gaze flicks to you as you keep speaking, anger rising rapidly in you. “We’re friends with benefits. Fuck buddies. Eddie, I absolutely was flirting with you and if I want to sleep with you, that’s none of Steve’s god damn business and-”

A knock on the door stops you from continuing. Steve’s jaw twitches, tongue licking his top lip as he narrows his eyes at you. 

“Y/N?” Nancy’s voice echoes through the door, softening to a whisper, “Guys, come on. I know all three of you are in there and Robin is wondering where-”

She stops as you open the door, meeting her thin lipped smile and too insightful for their own good eyes. 

“Sorry,” whispering as you brush past her. For sleeping with Steve? For pulling her into this mess somehow? For lying to your best friend and her girlfriend? You don’t even know anymore. 

Music grows louder as you wander down the hallway, clenching your fist tighter around your underwear. Risking a glance over your shoulder to see Nancy and Steve arguing, Eddie’s eyes dancing between them before catching yours. 

Any urge to fight, any anger, it disappears, lost in the smoke that fills the room and you’re desperate to get out of there. Technicolor lights swirl as the bass thumps through speakers and you maneuver your way through the small crowd. Front door almost within your reach as an arm slinks between yours and your side, hooking and yanking you to a stop. A voice attached to the arm you’re dreading to face, especially after they ask, “Hey, do you have something to tell me?”

Her words fill you with ice, toes numb and a chill down your spine. Looking up, you’re not met with anger but a smile that thaws you. Robin isn’t mad, she’s beaming and you’re wondering why when she glances over her shoulder. 

Eddie leans against the wall, smiling and nodding towards the two of you as he lifts a red solo cup. He must have told her something else with the way Robin is looking at you. Your stomach twists as Robin smiles wider, her dimple popping out. Her hands find your shoulders, blue eyes sparkling as her voice sings, “Girl talk. Wine. Cookies. Now. Let’s blow this popsicle stand, babe.”

“Robin, I-”

She shakes her head, pressing a finger over your lips as she shushes you, “Let me say goodbye to Nance and it’ll just be me and you the rest of the night, kay?”

Robin’s smile is so genuine and over her shoulder you see Steve looking around the room, clearly searching for you. Eyes connecting with yours finally, you feel nauseous as he quickly shoves in and out of groups making his way towards you. Forcing a smile, you look at Robin and nod. “Okay, I’ll be outside. I need some fresh air.”

Robin claps, happy with her victory. She weaves her way towards the kitchen, stopping Steve and gesturing to you before bouncing over to Nancy. Steve continues to make his way towards you and as hard as you try to exit and slam the door in his face, his hand catches your shoulder as you slip outside. 

Shrugging him off harshly, you focus all of your attention on your phone screen, pulling up Uber. 

“Can we talk?”

Steve’s voice is soft, straining to be heard over the bass from inside and it makes you peer up from your screen. His hands are in his back pockets of his dark jeans, hair a mess and sticking to his sweaty forehead. Brows knitting together and a frown on his lips - you can’t stand how sad and confused he looks. Does he not understand why you’re mad? Why this is all so wrong?

Why is this all so wrong?

Your brain is screaming at your body to run, yet everything in you wants to fight with Steve until you’re breathless. If you talk, if you fight right now, you’re both going to say things you can’t take back. On the other hand, if you run, if you push him away further, perhaps you’ll never say some things you probably should. 

“Not now, Steve.”

“But, I-”

Your glare is harsh, voice ice as you repeat yourself, “Not now, Steve.”

He narrows his eyes again, hazel that’s normally soft and sticky turning amber and hard. Jaw clenching as he rocks back onto his heels. Clearly Steve wants to fight as he shakes his head, mumbling under his breath, “You’re really unbelievable.”

Phone dropping to your side, you turn to face him fully, disbelief filling your features, “I’m unbelievable? Me? Were you just in the same bathroom? Were we at the same beach today? Or how about last night, Steve? Was that a different guy who-”

“You liked all of it, so don’t even-”

That stupid gravitational pull you seem to have with each other back at work again, your bodies moving closer to one another without meaning to, chests almost touching. Hands tightening into fists at your sides, you tilt your chin up at him, “Oh, and you know what I like?”

Steve laughs cooly, fingers tugging in his hair with a groan. His voice rises, dripping in exasperation, “That’s a ridiculous question and you know that! And what, you’re trying to tell me that you wanted Eddie to-”

“Who cares what I wanted Eddie to do Steve!” Your resolve to not fight fully breaking as your voice does the same, “That’s the point! It’s none of your business who I’m fucking or not, or have you forgotten that little part of the deal?”

Steve groans, grabbing at your forearms and scoffing, “I care! And it’s stupid of you to expect me not to!”

Your faces are close enough that if anyone were watching, they’d think a kiss was about to happen. Steve’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and both of your breaths quicken. Mint and rum on your lips mingling with citrus and beer on his breath. His eyes watch your mouth as you lick your top lip, swallowing harshly before hitting him with a final blow. 

“I’m not yours.”

Something in Steve’s eyes shifts once more, amber shattering and turning to cold and hard granite. A fake smile tugs on his lips, it’s all far too emotionless and nothing like the Steve you know as he tilts his head, whispering, “Not what you just said in the bathroom, babe.”

Your fingers itch to slap him at the same time your body betrays you, pussy clenching around nothing.

Steve smirks, knowing all of your tells. His mouth hovers over yours as his fingers squeeze your arms, “You can’t have it both ways.” 

A part of you wants to keep fighting, but what are you even fighting about anymore? How can you be mad at him, when you’re just as much to blame. He’s not wrong, you can’t make him jealous and then be upset with him when he acts on the feeling. It’s just a day full of too much sun, delusions and decisions fueled by rum. 

Before you can do or say anything more that you’re sure to regret later, the front door opens and saves the two of you. Steve’s hands drop from your arms as Robin’s head turns inside, laughing at someone’s departing words for her. She turns and skips down the stairs as you and Steve step further apart. Eyes on the sidewalk as the tension that has been surrounding you both pops like a bubble. 

Robin slows, her eyes lingering on Steve as she asks, “Everything okay?”

Steve looks up at her, nodding once before smiling and backing away. “Yup. Never better. Have a good girl’s night.”

He turns on his heel quickly, walking in the opposite direction he needs to go. Robin watches him with a frown, her lip pulling between her teeth as her arms cross. His fading figure’s shoulders sink, head turned down as she tilts hers. Holding your breath as her eyebrows furrow.

“He’s been so weird all week. And he was fighting with Nancy like, three times today. You don’t think…” she trails off, tugging on her fingers and shaking her head. “Maybe something’s going on with them? Maybe he’s not as cool with it all as he said he was? I should go…”

Your fingers are pruny from the guilt you’re swimming in as you quickly shake your head, shutting down the train she’s gotten herself on. “No, no, no, Robs, “ at a loss for words, you just repeat yourself firmer, “No. That’s not it at all. He…I don’t know. We were fighting about something stupid. You should just hang out with him, maybe he misses having you all to himself, okay? First me, then Nancy, now Eddie’s back. He probably just misses his best friend, you know?”

Unable to stop yourself, the lies build and build as you drown in the waves of guilt that knock you down repeatedly. Your chest tightens, suffocating and choking as it all pulls you under while she nods and hums, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Robin doesn’t look too convinced, but turns to you and smiles, a little forced but she takes a deep breath. “God, he’s not the boy we need to talk about right now anyways.” Her eyebrows raise before she continues and steps towards the Uber pulling up, “Eddie asked me for your number inside and I’m betting my next paycheck it has something to do with the undergarment in your hand there?”

Your hand quickly moves behind your back, but it’s too late and she cackles, “Oh my god, tell me everything!”

Phone buzzing in your hand as you both slide into the car. Robin squeals and makes grabby hands for it, “Oh, oh, oh, he’s already messaging you?!” 

The unknown number’s message fills the screen and you’re not quick enough to lock it before she sees:

Robin frowns, looking up at you, “Your side of what?”

“Oh, uh, Steve and I…he…” you’re fumbling, about to just blurt it all out when Robin groans. 

“I was hoping he wouldn’t find out.”

“What?” You blink at her, sweating palms wiped on the hem of your dress. 

Robin sighs, leaning her temple against the backseat as she turns her body towards yours. Waving her hand around as she speaks, “You know, that Steve and you slept together,” she shakes her head a little, smiling, “So weird still. Anyways. As confident as Eddie may appear, it’s always a competition with those two and Eddie…” she trails off, voice softening to a whisper, “Well, let’s just say Eddie wasn’t as popular in school as Steve was.”

Your head falls back against the headrest hard. Any remorse you were feeling for being mad at Steve vanishes. Steve knew what he was doing, how Eddie would feel. He knew how risky the bathroom stunt was and he didn’t seem to be ashamed in the slightest of being caught. Bitterness sits on your tongue as you remember how you felt in the bathroom as the boys sat in their staring contest. Steve doesn’t seem to care about the rules anymore, and you hate that you let yourself sort of forget them too. Steve was right. You can’t have it both ways. 

This is exactly what was not supposed to happen. It was supposed to be fun. No one was supposed to be hurt. You never thought you’d be the one to ignore your own rules, to feel the pit in your stomach at the thought of losing Steve. Your stringless fling seems to have quickly tied itself into a tangled knot in less than a day. 

Robin pats your thigh, smiling softly, mistaking your quiet for worry about Eddie. “Hey, you’ll tell him it’s all good. You and Steve are just friends. It’ll all work itself out, right?”

Humming in a sort of agreement as the Uber pulls up to your apartment, you pause on the sidewalk as you get out. Something gnawing at you. “Hey, Robs?”

She turns, smiling as she holds the door open, “What’s up?”

“Why…” you falter, unsure if you should ask. Her eyebrows raise in wait for your question. 

Opening the door to the stairs, you frown and ask, “Why are you excited something happened with Eddie and I? Why do you want something to happen with us, but not…”

You’re worried asking might lead to her reading too much into it but she shrugs, unbothered. “Steve? I don’t know. I think Eddie’s more your type,” she ticks off on her fingers, “He’s a lot more go with the flow, he hasn’t stayed in one place for more than a year since high school. He’s not looking to be tied down, and Steve is. Steve always is,” she rolls her eyes as she starts on the stairs, continuing, “I think you both have a lot in common, like reading today on the beach, same sense of humor. I don’t know, Eddie and you just make more sense to me, I guess? Steve and you are so different. Different worlds. Want different things. It was never gonna work, and I love you both and didn’t want to see that happen.”

What she’s saying makes sense, but why does it hurt a little?

She stops on one landing, hands on her hips, “I mean, the Dingus is great, but dude would be a total mess if you broke his heart, whereas you’d probably be fine? Eddie just handles heartbreak better in the end, and he also isn’t one to fall easily. You’d be able to still be friends if it doesn’t work out is what I’m saying. Casual and easy going are Eddie and yours shared middle names, ya know?”

“Right,” you agree quietly.

She turns to continue on the last flight, voice echoing up the stairwell, “So, I think it’s an ‘I Think You Should Leave Night.’ I need some Tim Robinson. Did I tell you that Nancy had never seen it? I…”

She trails off, explaining how she introduced Nancy to the show and you stare at your phone, sending a message to Eddie with the address to a coffee shop around the corner. Maybe you should have trusted Robin’s insight into these relationships from the start.

She knew right away Steve and you would end in failure and hurt and it was silly of you to think the two of you could avoid the kind of people you are. Fundamentally different, and not meant to be together for a reason, you’re sure. 

Your phone buzzes again as you enter the apartment, Robin already pulling out cookie trays. You turn your phone off without responding. 

Ice clinks together as Eddie’s fingers swirl his straw in the coffee in front of him. His eyes remain on the drink, tracking the faintest swirl of milk, lips downturned in a frown as you gnaw on the ripped skin of your thumb. 

He’s been silent for a full minute, since you finished explaining everything. He agreed to meet you at the coffee shop before brunch with the group. You’re hopeful to just move on, to forget about Steve. Maybe it would have worked out with Eddie and you if you hadn’t created this mess. Maybe it still could. You almost forgot about Steve fully when Eddie showed up in dark wash jeans, chain hanging loosely at his hip. A burnt orange shirt snug across his shoulders and chest where his waves hung down. Framing his dazzling smile that went straight to your lungs and pulled your breath out and away. 

Eddie finally blows out a long exhale, palms dragging down his cheeks as he groans. “Shit, this is a fucking mess.”

“Mhm,” you hum, sipping your own coffee. 

He folds his arms on the table and leans forward, frowning, “I don’t…I don’t understand why Robin talked my ear off for like four fucking hours about you though. That’s what I meant when I said I’d tell her last night, Steve knew she was trying to set us up.” He rolls his eyes and continues, “If she didn’t want you two together, why does she want us?”

Your fingers fold and unfold the straw wrapper in front of you, shoulders falling as you slump down in your chair further. “Right? I asked her that last night. Let’s just say I’m not a huge fan of relationships and she thought you’d be the perfect fit for…” you twist your lips and narrow your eyes as you search for the right words, “The lifestyle? I tend to lead.”

Eddie smirks but it quickly turns to a grimace around his straw. He leans back in his chair and picks at the chipping paint on the table. “You too, huh? Who broke your heart?”

Surprised at his question, the paper wrapper rips in your fingers and your brow furrows, “I…no one. It’s a long story.” Waving your hand at him, you try to brush off the question and he raises his eyebrows and you huff out an annoyed breath. Something tells you he’s not one to give up easily, perhaps just as stubborn as you are. “I just know happy endings are few and far between, why put yourself through all of that pain for maybe a chance of it working out. Plus I’m very happy being single.”

He watches you curiously. “Happy or just complacent?”

Rolling your eyes, you sigh. Squinting at him as you sip your coffee. “I’m happy. I think assuming I’m not because I’m not in a relationship or searching for love is some 1950s bullshit. I love the life that I’ve made for myself, without anyone’s help.”

Eddie’s lips twist into a smirk as he narrows his eyes playfully. “I see why he likes you.”

Frowning, you fiddle with your straw. “Steve doesn’t like me like that. He likes having sex with me.”

Eddie laughs, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, I can tell you right now, that’s not Stevie. He likes you. A lot. Wouldn’t have pulled that crap yesterday if he didn’t.”

Your stomach twists. That’s the problem, isn't it? 

Shaking your head back at him you snap, not mean, but not warm either. “Well, that’s too bad. Deal’s off. I’m sleeping with other people.”

Eddie leans forward again, arms resting on the table and his eyebrows disappear under his bangs, “Other people, huh?”

You mirror his posture, arms close to his as you smile, “Yeah, have anyone you can set me up with?”

He laughs, throwing his head back. He shakes his head, curls falling across his shoulders as he watches you closely before speaking, “Steve will never forgive me princess, sorry.”

Falling back in the chair dramatically, you sigh. Ignoring his comment about Steve. “Damn. I thought you were supposed to be the bad boy of my dreams?”

Eddie laughs again, and you decide you really like the sound of it. It’s warm and comes from his chest, you can tell smiling and laughing comes easy to him when he’s around the right people. 

He sips at his coffee and then drums his fingers on the table, tongue licking his top lip, “Well, normally I’d say fuck it. Cause you’re real cute,” he winks at you and you laugh, he shakes his head no again, “But I’m afraid that you’re different. You may actually be the one to cause a fistfight, sweetheart, and I can’t afford to marr the merchandise - it’s all I got going for me.”

He pats at his cheek and you laugh at his theatrics. “Well that’s just not true. I’ve known you for only a day and I can already confidently say you have a lot more going for you than looks Eddie.”

Eddie bats his eyelashes at you, false embarrassment, but you don’t miss the way his cheeks turn slightly pink. 

Acting on instinct, you reach forward and grab his hand, “But really, the offer will stand if you ever decide to risk it. I mean, Robin thought it’d work, right?”

He smiles, squeezing your fingers, “True. But Steve-”

Groaning, you fall backwards again, letting his hand slip from yours, “Is a big boy and will get over it.”

Eddie snorts, fingers tapping at the table again. Eyes avoiding yours as he speaks, “That’s cute. Will you?”

“Will I what?”

Eddie looks up again, big brown eyes peering directly into your soul it seems as he asks, “Will you get over Steve?”

His question makes your limbs feel heavy, heart pounding, as you choke out, “Eddie, I don’t-”

He rolls his eyes, “Yeah you do,” he stands, nodding his head towards the door, “Come on, you can tell me all about why you refuse to let him love you on the walk to brunch.”

Chest tightening as you watch him start to walk away, somehow Eddie can read you quickly, knocking some of the stones you surround yourself with loose. Maybe the universe does know what it’s doing, it certainly did when it gave you Robin. Perhaps you were meant to meet all of these friends at this time in your life. Was it okay to let yourself be open? To let some light in through the cracks in your wall?

Eddie waits and beckons you with his hand, dragging out his words, “Come on, you can do it.” He grins, holding one of his hands up like he’s swearing in an oath, “I’ll even tell you my tale of doomed love first. Cheerleader dating the freak. Real star crossed lovers kind of shit. It’s pretty damn heartbreaking if I do say so myself.”

He bows as you stand, extending his arm for you to walk out first and you do. Feeling a little less alone, a little less pessimistic about the world and love as you listen to him tell you all about a girl named Chrissy on the walk to Benny’s. 

“I’m really sorry, Eddie,” you whisper as he finishes his story.

He shrugs, straw squeaking as he sucks the last of his coffee dry, kicking a loose stone as you wait at the crosswalk. “It’s okay. I’m okay. Done lot’s of healing up here,” he taps on his temple and then his heart, “And here. Now,” he spins, eyes big and lips forming a pout as he pokes your cheek, “I think I’m owed your story.”

As you take a deep breath, maybe you will tell him actually, Robin’s voice sings from behind you, “Well, well, well! Looks like some people have had quite a morning already!”

Eddie and you turn, rolling your eyes almost in sync and Robin beams. You all know she slept over last night, and was there still this morning when you left for coffee. It’s not Robin you look at right away though, but Steve, who stands just behind her and Nancy. His eyes are on yours and Eddie’s coffee cups before they meet yours. 

The light changes and Steve’s eyes fall to the ground again, passing by you silently. Eddie leans in close and whispers in your ear, “Yeah, what was that thing about him getting over it?”

Brunch is uncomfortable after that to say the least. Eddie and you end up squished together all thanks to Robin’s insistence that you can all squeeze into the booth. But, you can’t, leaving Steve in a chair pulled up on the end, dodging elbows of the staff carrying trays to the busy diner patrons. Finding it hard not to stare at the way his muscles flex under his plain white t-shirt or the way his neck extends, exposing his freckles and moles with every turn. 

His eyes catch you staring at one point and your gaze quickly drops to your plate, hands becoming busy with your coffee mug. Your stomach finds the giant waffle in front of you unappetizing. Eddie nudges your knee while offering a reassuring smile as Nancy watches all three of you over the rim of her coffee. 

Robin is oblivious to it all, chattering about her and Nancy’s trip next weekend, the football game coming up, and Eddie’s band potentially booking a gig for the Halloween party following it. 

“Wait, we’ve barely hit September, Halloween?” Eddie shoves pancakes into his cheek as he speaks. 

“In Chicago, Halloween is the entire month. So, in two weeks, October 1st equals Halloween season officially, baby!” Robin rubs her hands together like an evil genius before continuing, “Costume contests and bar crawls, horror movie trivia and marathons, oh my god all the Rocky Horror showings. It’s the best freaking time of the year.”

Nancy grimaces and Steve smiles for the first time all morning. “Have fun. Extremely happy to let you inherit the responsibility that is Robin for the month of October.” He removes an invisible hat from his head and pops it onto Nancy’s.

She smiles widely at him.  “Wow, King Steve removing his crown?”

“Only for those worthy.” He winks and they laugh about something you don’t understand, remembering you’re the outsider of this little group. Your chest burns from the thought of them together, the history they have. A bitter taste fills your mouth and it’s not from the coffee. Swallowing harshly as you push down whatever is brewing inside of you - definitely not jealousy. 

Robin rolls her eyes, responding dryly, “Ha-ha,” she takes the invisible crown and places it on her own head, sticking her tongue out at Steve. 

Eddie leans across the booth stealing it, “Oh no, I’ve wanted this bad boy since High School!” Robin and Eddie pretend to play tug of war with the invisible inside joke. Feeling yourself fading into the vinyl seats of the booth as they all reminisce about a particular Halloween from high school. Something about a party at Steve’s, pure fuel, and Eddie and Robin being higher than kites while they TP’d Steve’s backyard. 

Nancy covers her mouth in shock, “That was you guys?!” 

The two fall over in a fit of giggles and Nancy shakes her head, throwing a wadded up napkin at their faces. A smile sits on your lips as you poke at your waffle. A bump to your knee has you looking up to find Steve watching you, his eyebrows furrowed. Standing as you offer a shrug of your shoulders. 

Robin stops Nancy and Eddie from their loud boos about something, waving her hands, “Wait, where are you going?”

Your thumb hooks over your shoulder, “I’m gonna head home, I’m not feeling so hot, probably just too much sun yesterday.”

“I can walk you,” Eddie starts to get up and you motion for him to sit.

“It’s like a block away, I’m fine, promise. Catch up! You haven’t had the chance yet.”

Robin smiles at you, but it doesn’t meet her eyes as she tilts her head. Eddie nods once, sitting back down. Grabbing your receipt and quickly leaving the table with a wave. As you wait for the hostess to return to the register, the receipt is plucked from your fingers and Steve is next to you. 

A roll of your eyes as you huff a breath out of your nose, “Steve, give me my receipt.”

“Oh my god, so you can talk to me. Was worried I left my secret invisibility cloak on.”

He leans against the counter, chin resting in his palm as he raises his eyebrows. Shrugging your shoulders, you avoid his gaze. “Nothing to talk about,” you reach for the receipt again and he holds it away from you. Gritting through clenched teeth, “I can pay for myself.”

“I know you can, but it’s okay to let people do something for you sometimes.”

“It’s not sometimes with you Steve, you do it all the time. I don’t want your money - �� 

“You could just say thank you,” he rolls his eyes, “It doesn’t mean anything. Does it really bother you that much?”

“Yeah, it does, I’m able to pay for myself and I don’t need someone to provide for me.”

Steve stands up taller, crossing his arms as his voice lowers, “Probably didn’t have a problem letting Eddie provide you with your coffee this morning.”

Rolling your eyes again, you snort, snatching the receipt and leaning in closer. “Actually, not that it’s any of your business, but I bought his coffee to apologize to my friend for yesterday.”

Steve smirks, ripping the receipt from your fingers again, “Right, and I’m your friend offering to buy your breakfast.”

“If you were my friend, then you wouldn’t be acting like this,” your fingers graze his as you reach for the ticket again, and he closes his fist around it tighter. Your voice grows weak as you continue, “What are we doing Steve.”

His shoulders relax slightly and he sighs, blowing his breath out through his nose as he turns towards the counter. It wasn’t phrased as a question, but he answers anyways, “I don’t know. You tell me. You seem to want to call all the shots right? When we talk, when we don’t, when we fuck and who we tell.”

Your gaze jumps over to the booth, everyone caught up in conversation thankfully and you exhale. Turning on your heel, choosing that some battles are not worth fighting. Your armor has received far too many dents and you can’t afford to rebuild it again. 

“Not anymore,” you mumble to him as you try not to focus on the way his shoulders fall further or the wetness that pools on your lash line. 

The city transitions from Summer to Autumn in less than a week. Trees lining your neighborhood turn from green to yellows and reds. The air becomes cooler, easier to take deep breaths and be open to the change the season promises. Your fingers trail along the brick of an old building as you walk towards your favorite pizza place. Rounding the corner, you nearly smack into someone.

“Oh, sorry, I-”

“I’m so sorry-”

Steve stands in front of you and both trail off as you realize it’s each other. You almost didn’t recognize him with a black baseball hat on, tight black shirt and light wash jeans. It’s probably the most casual you’ve seen him and  you swallow harshly. Neither of you have messaged and you hate how much you wish he would have. 

He shoves his hands in his pockets, twisting his lips up while squinting. “Hey, I was just coming to see if you were done avoiding me.”

A flip switched, your annoyance with him returns easily. Rolling your eyes as you push past him. “I’m not avoiding you.”

He spins to follow you, dragging out his word, “Riiight.” He kicks a pebble as he falls into step with you, “So, if you’re not avoiding me, let’s go back to your place and hang out. Maybe get Red Hot-”

Stopping abruptly, Steve nearly trips on his own feet as he comes to a halt next to you. Your arms cross as you look up at him, “Steve, I thought it was clear that the arrangement was over.”

He nods once, licking his lips before smiling, “I meant actual Red Hot Ranch, get your mind out of the gutter.” He’s trying to joke, but his tone is forced - like he’s speaking while holding his breath and it makes your chest hurt. 

Steve runs his hand through his hair before his arm falls to his side, “Seriously, I just…I’m sorry. About everything. And I miss my…friend?”

He lets the last word hang as a question. Debating if you can actually move on, you look up at the sky. You’re sure if you and Steve can get through this awkward sort of scramble to fix the mess you’ve made, you can be friends and end up happy. 

You want to move on from Steve, right?

Raising your arm, you gesture in the direction you had been heading in, speaking softly, “I was just on my way to Argyle’s, if you can handle sharing a pizza with a friend who likes olives?”

Steve’s lips twitch into a lopsided smile, remembering how the two of you met. He sighs dramatically before walking towards the bar, “Only if you agree to let me absolutely crush you at ski-ball at Replay after.”

A demolished pizza, a train ride, and several beers later, Steve is cupping his ear with his hand, a gloating grin on his lips as he asks, “How many games is that?”

Rolling your eyes, you scoff into the bottle and spin, scanning the barcade. It’s 80s theme this month, so while the front of the place is normal - pinball and arcade games - the people mingling about and heading to the back themed portion of the bar are decked out in neon, legwarmers, and dizzying patterns. An 80s playlist booms overhead mixing with dings of the pinball machines and chatter of bar goers. 

Your fingers tap on the side of your bottle and nod towards the machines, “You know, all of these are free and yet, I’ve never seen you play. Someone too chicken to lose at something he might not be the best at?”

Steve smirks around the lip of his bottle, “I’ll play you on any machine in here. Still gonna win.”

You’ve missed this with him, the banter and fun. No pressure and no feelings. Although, is it really without feelings when his cocky attitude is a turn on, because now you know how it translates into the bedroom? Will you ever be able to separate the two versions of Steve?

Spinning once more, you land on a Goonies themed free machine, you tap your fingers on the glass and face him, “Care to make it interesting?”

He leans against it, smiling. “What’d you have in mind?”

“If I win, I get to pay for the next round,” you point your finger thinking, “And the next dinner we have together!”

He shrugs, sipping his bear, “Fine. If I win, I pay for the next round, dinner next time we’re out, and I get to come over for a movie tonight. My choice.”

“Fine,” you narrow your eyes.

“Great,” he smiles wider. 

Suspicious with how easy he agreed to let you pay for something if you won, you gesture towards the game. “You go first.”

Steve hands you his beer, cracking his knuckles as he speaks, “Prepare to lose.”

Steve releases the ball, standing tall in front of the pinball machine, confident with his legs spread slightly, shoulders rolled back. You hate that your eyes travel to his butt and up his back, swallowing a drink of your beer as you reach his neck, his concentration present on his face under the baseball hat that you’re quickly wishing he’d wear more often. Watching as his long fingers press the buttons on the side of the game with quick and precise moves, his eyes roam over the glass, unmoving from the game as he smirks. “You didn’t read the names on the screen did you?” 

Flashing lights distract you from his face and fingers, turning towards the screen, Steve’s score trailing across it in bright red, then the list of top five scores appear where you see ‘Dingus’ and ‘Other Dingus’ as the top two names. 

Groaning, you close your eyes, “What?!”

He laughs, “Robs and I came here like every night when we first moved to the city and worked at that burger place just down the road.”

Steve pats your shoulder and when you open your eyes he’s smiling with fake sympathy, “I think I’m gonna make you watch a rom com tonight.”

Your groan grows in volume and you face the machine, shoving the two beers into his hands, “Bite me, Steven.”

Steve takes a sip of his beer, only to choke on it as you pull the lever and the ball immediately falls down the center. Brushing it off, you start on the second one, only for Steve to wince when you press the lever at just the wrong moment, sending the ball careening around the board with no way to control it or anticipate when it’ll drop again. 

He sets the beers down, holding up his hands, “Okay, hold on, hold on. I wanna win, but in a fair fight. This is pathetic.”

Steve comes up behind you, you hold your breath as his hands hover over yours, arms on either side of you and he whispers, “Can I help show you something?”

Worried your voice is going to betray you, you just nod and Steve steps closer. His head to the side of yours, cheeks almost touching as his fingers land above your own. He watches as your first ball goes ping ponging around the board again, laughing a little as you stick your tongue out and jab at the buttons. He whispers close to your ear, “You’re hitting it at the right time, just too quick and choppy. You gotta take a deep breath before hitting the button, relax your body.”

The heat of Steve’s face next to yours, his chest just touching your back, it’s melting you, words he’s saying fried on impact in your brain like an egg on a sidewalk. You couldn’t take his advice if you tried, the instructions gone from your thoughts as your body betrays you, underwear growing slick between your thighs.  

“Show me?” you squeak out and out of the corner of your eyes you see his lips tip up on one side in a smile. Will Steve be able to ignore your tells, will he ever be able to separate the two versions of you either? 

The second ball releases, Steve’s fingers lace with yours over the buttons, he whispers, “Okay, deep breath,” you feel his chest expand against you, feel his breath hit your neck as he turns to face you instead of the game, “Now.”

His fingers press yours into the button gently, his nose brushing up your neck slowly and the ball hitting the exact spot you wanted and you spin to face him, ignoring the game. “I-”

A girl comes out of the bright pink bathroom, mascara on her cheeks and blowing her nose loudly and interrupting any moment you two were just having. Her friend wraps her arm around her. “He’s an idiot.”

“Why doesn’t he love me!” She wails, swiping at her nose with toilet paper another girl hands her. The two friends on either side of the crying girl communicate silently with their eyes. One touches her finger to her nose before the other can, holding her hands up in surrender. 

Steve’s eyes meet yours, shimmering with held back laughter and you cover your smile with your fingers. He leans in closer, lips brushing your ear and you hate that you shiver as he speaks, “You are so not laughing.”

“No! He’s gonna be my husband!” The clearly drunk girl hiccups and the friend who didn’t tap her nose quick enough whispers, “Babe, you met him last week on tinder.”

An unstoppable snort leaves you and your shoulders shake, forehead pressing to his chest. 

“Hey! What’s so funny assholes?” The one girl directs towards the two of you. 

The sad girl hits her friend's shoulder, “Don’t be mean, they’re clearly in…lo...love!” She starts crying harder and Steve’s shoulders start to shake too, his hand grabbing yours and pulling you back into the themed part of the bar. 

He drags his palm down his cheek, laughing still, “Not funny. It’s not funny.”

Straightening, you form a serious face, mashing your lips together. “Right. Not funny.”

Your eyes meet and your laughter bursts out of you again, wiping your eyes as you lean against each other. 

Steve shakes his head, removing his hat for a second to run his hand through his hair, before adjusting the cap. His shirt rises a little, exposing the line of dark hair that runs under the waistband of his jeans. Your laughter dies off, eyes trying to look anywhere but there.   

He motions to the bar, grinning as he asks “I believe I get to get the next round?”

Rolling your eyes, you shoo him away, leaning against a small unoccupied table. As you wait for him to return, you’re lost in people watching and admiring the decorations. Replay does not hold back when it comes to a theme, specific and hidden nods to the decade surround you as you watch the groups and couples enjoying themselves. Some clearly on first dates, or new to seeing each other. Lots of sipping of drinks, nodding, restless hands and standing not too close to each other. Then there’s those that your chest twinges a little as you watch them. The couple at one of the tables with arms around each other, laughing and kissing temples. The two that come out of the photobooth catch your attention the most. They’re giggling, stealing kisses and holding hands, waiting as their pictures print. Their heads lean together as one of them squeals, “Aww, babe!”

The bump of your drink against the wood tabletop pulls you away, Steve watching you curiously, he raises his eyebrows, “Everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I just didn’t know people actually did photo booths anymore. Or like, got excited about them. Never done it before.” Shrugging as you take a sip. 

Steve’s mouth falls open, “You’ve never…Come on.”

He’s pulling you over despite your protests, sitting down and waiting for you. He rolls his eyes and pats his thigh, “Not like you haven’t sat on my thigh before.”

“Jesus, Steve.” Hissing at him as you sit, swiping the curtain closed behind you. 

The space is even smaller than it looks, and it takes Steve and you a second to find a comfortable position. Your elbow bumps the wall as you try to sneak it around his shoulders and give up, resting them in front of you in your lap. His chin knocks against your shoulder as he moves his arm around your waist. 

Steve leans forward to press the button and you stop him, “Wait!” 

He raises his eyebrows at you, looking up and you realize his face is right in front of your chest and you squeeze your eyes closed, “What…uh…what do we do? Smile or - “

Steve's fingers tap your hip, “We’ll figure it out. Relax.”

The number flashes on the screen, your faces filling it and Steve suggests a silly one first, his tongue sticking out and his eyes crossing. You’re mid laugh in that one. He hooks both arms around you, pulling you further onto his lap and his chin falling over your shoulder for the next one. Smiling for the camera normally, until right before the flash he blows a raspberry in your neck, squeezing your waist. You’re caught up in scolding him, trying to jab at his sides in the next one. By the fourth photo you’re laughing, looking at each other as your breathing slows down with smiles. After the flash, Steve’s hand cups your cheek, leaning in closer as your smiles fall and your breath picks up for an entirely different reason. 

“Steve…” your voice is a breath. 

He swallows, his own voice not any louder, “Yeah?”

Your noses are touching, lips hovering over each other’s as you speak, “We should-”

The flash goes off and you both freeze, the booth’s voice echoing and telling you your photos are printing. Clearing your throat, you pull the curtain and stand, Steve following you out and he exhales, sipping his drink. Well, more like chugging it, his finger looped into his collar as he tugs it away from his neck. 

The strip falls into the little cubby and you pull it out with a smile. Your thumb brushes over the photoset, happy to have a physical memory of you and Steve. You get it, why people like them. They’re black and white - timeless. Little moments caught where you weren’t overthinking what Steve and you are, or what you’ll be or how you’ll never work. 

It’s just the two of you at that moment, and you’re glad you have the photos because you already miss it. 

He’s behind you, voice quiet as his eyes take them in, “Do you like them?”

You nod your head, smiling wider, “Yeah, I really do. Thanks.”

He hums, nodding towards the door, “Wanna…?”

A very open ended question, but you nod, slipping the photos into your back pocket and walking out ahead of him. 

Your walk to the blue line stop is silent. Your hands barely touch as you walk, the back of Steve’s fingers hitting yours. Does he want to hold hands? Do you want that too? Lost in a day dream of what it would be like to let yourself walk around holding hands with someone like Steve Harrington.

The sunset draws your attention as you lean on the wall waiting for the train, your chin resting on your folded arms. Oranges and pinks are vibrant streaks across the sky as the sun sinks lower and lower behind the buildings. 

You turn and catch Steve watching you. His eyes melt as they meet yours, orange golden light hitting his jaw, eyes turning into the stickiest honey you’ve yet to see. Your breath catches in your chest and you raise your eyebrows, “What?”

He smiles, soft and barely twitching his lips up before his eyes fall to the ground. He fiddles with the hem of his shirt, “Nothing. I like watching you watch the sunset is all.”

Your heart beats harder and you turn your gaze back on the sky as you exhale, “I never said sorry either you know. And I am,” you look at him again, his eyebrows furrow, and you continue, “Sorry, I mean. It’s kind of all my fault.”

The train pulls up then, both of you caught up in getting on and failing to find a seat. You stand with your back to the doors, chairs to one of your sides and Steve steadies himself with a palm over your shoulder. You’re close, caged in, and on a jolt of the car, you lean forward and catch yourself on his chest. He looks down at you, eyes bouncing between yours. The loud rumble of the car rattles inside your ribcage and as the train goes through a tunnel, the quick bursts of lights outside flash across his face. 

“Sorry it happened or sorry it’s over?”

“What?” You ask quietly, confused by his question. 

He steps closer and your back arches, forgetting there’s other people on the train with you as  he speaks quietly, barely able to hear over the noise of the train, “Earlier. You said you were sorry. That it was your fault. So you’re sorry it happened at all or sorry it’s over?”

“Steve…” you tilt your head, lip almost catching his.

His breath fans across your cheek, “I’m not sorry.” His nose nudges into your cheek and he whispers, “I’m not sorry about any of it. Sorry I hurt you, but not sorry about it happening. And I’m definitely sorry it’s over.”

Your words are caught in your throat. Is this what you want? Do you want Steve completely? Even if it means hurting him? Even if it means getting hurt yourself?

The train announces your stop and his arm falls, following you out the doors. His admission hangs heavy in the air, mixing with the thick heat that’s started to fall over the city. Is it too late to tell him you feel the same way? Can you even tell him that when you can barely admit it to yourself? 

As you step down the stairs to the sidewalk, you see Stan’s and you gesture to it, “Grilled cheese or a donut for the walk back?”

He nods and you don’t argue with him when he pulls out his wallet, only whispering a quiet thank you. You walk in silence, your mind races just as fast as your heart. It’s crazy to think you could let yourself be open to Steve. Robin is right, you’re different, and it’s never going to work. It already hurts now, what happens if it really doesn’t work out?

Taking turns with the sandwich, Steve takes a bite and sighs, stuffing the piece into his cheek. “I only ever make these when I’m sick. Kind of forget they exist outside of that.”

“So that’s your favorite food when you’re sick?” You question as he hands the sandwich back to and you round the corner, your apartment only a block away now. 

He nods, licking his finger and squinting at the sky. “Yeah, grilled cheese and tomato soup.”

“Respectable choice,” you speak around your own bite and you smile. 

You’re stopped at a crosswalk, and Steve watches you, blowing his breath out through parted lips, “Are you going to leave me hanging?”

You know he’s referring to what he just said on the train. Your eyes drop to the sidewalk, stomach turning as you speak, “Steve, we’re…this isn’t going to work. We’re too different. And you don’t even know me. Not really.”

He steps closer, fingers on your chin as he tilts your face up to look at him. He licks his lips, shaking his head and his voice is desperate, “I do. I do know you. I know you like sunsets, and your favorite foods, and what kind of body wash you use…”

His words make tears spring to your eyes, chest tightening as you shake your head. He continues, “You can tell me things. I-” he rubs his thumb across your cheek, “If you give it a chance and open up to someone-”

Maybe it’s a sign from the universe, because before he can keep going, before you can respond, the sky opens up, dumping rain on you from seemingly out of nowhere. 

“Fuck!” He screams, swiping at his eyes as the torrential downpour swallows you both.

Grabbing his hand as the light changes, you take off towards your apartment, both of you blindly running as the rain streams down your face. People honking or running by with umbrellas as you cut across the busy street screaming at Steve to hurry. 

“I’m trying! I can’t see anything more than like two steps in front of me!”

You come to a stop outside your apartment, rain pounding against you both and Steve tries to cover you with his arms, doing absolutely nothing as you fiddle with your keys in your pocket. Finally getting the front door open, the door closes and the sound of your clothes dripping onto the tile is soft compared to what sounds like a hurricane coming down outside the doors. 

Steve removes his hat, shaking his hair and running a hand through it before wringing out the cap, water dripping sadly from it and landing in the quickly forming puddles beneath your feet. Your eyes meet after watching it and you can’t help it, you both burst out laughing. It’s all so ridiculous, or maybe it’s the beers you’ve had. Taking a step, your shoes squish loudly and you groan and Steve's laughter fades and he covers his mouth, shaking his head as he looks up at the ceiling. 

The entire trip up the stairs, the squishing of your socks in your shoes landing on each step only seems to get louder. It’s comical, straight out of a cartoon and every time you look down at your shoes annoyed, Steve’s lips twitch in a fight against a smile. 

A particularly wet squelch happens on the top step and Steve snorts and whispers, “That’s what good pus-”

“Stop!” You cover your face with your palm, hiding your laughter as you interrupt his crude joke. 

Steve can’t stop laughing, both of you breathlessly wheezing as you make it to your front door finally. It’s that kind of laughter that can’t be stopped, spurred on by the other’s picking back up. You don’t even know what’s so funny anymore, all you know is your cheeks and stomach hurt and you don’t want it to be over. 

Stopped at your door, you swipe at your eyes and your laughter trails off naturally. The soft glow of the dimming hallway lights casting Steve in pale yellow, his eyes bounce between yours. Chests rising and falling almost in tandem, your breathing slightly ragged from running and laughing. The air around you feels different and Steve swallows harshly, your eyes follow the movement of his adam’s apple. You’re scared to speak, because maybe if you do, the night isn’t going to end the way you’re too afraid to admit you want it to. 

It’s silly, really, drenched from a surprise rain storm, the night you’ve had with each other and the things he’s said. It’s almost like a date, a pivotal scene from the movies you claim to hate. 

It’s almost like you want Steve to kiss you. 

Your body knows before your brain can catch up, or maybe it’s your heart this time. Drawing closer to each other, Steve pulls you in time and time again. Your own moon, controlling your tides. Keeping you tethered to him, grounded in his gravity and weightless in the same breath. How can someone who makes you feel like this not be meant to be in your life? How could it not work out?

Steve closes the distance, the tips of his sneakers tapping yours as he looks down at where his hand falls to rest on your waist. Your head tilts with an easy familiarity, eyes on his mouth as his nose brushes against yours. He sighs, eyes flitting up to yours as he speaks, barely louder than a breath, “I really missed you.”

His fingers are warm on your side, cold fabric of your shirt bunched up slightly as his thumb brushes across your skin. His other hand rises, almost in slow motion, and cradles your cheek. Steve’s voice is raspy, a little broken as he promises, “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

You really want him to kiss you. 

Your top lip skims his as you lean into him more, speaking even softer than he is, “I don’t want you to stop.”

Steve’s fingers squeeze your hip as his other hand glides to the back of your head. Tangling in your hair as he tilts your head further, lips meeting softly as your eyes flutter closed. A simple press, his breath hits your top lip as he pulls away slightly. Your eyes open, the warmth of his meeting yours, your own personal sunshine back and surrounding you. His hands move, cupping both of your cheeks. Steve's eyes close as he pulls you in again, mouth parting over yours and he sighs into you, filling your lungs with air like you hadn't been able to take a deep breath without him. 

Your stomach flips as he kisses you slower than he ever has - it's easy, familiar, yet new at the same time. Kisses that are sweeter and savoring, nose squished into yours, desperate to be closer. Thumbs brushing over your cheeks, foreheads pressed together. Steve's head tilts, nose bumping higher on your cheek, thumb dragging down your jaw gently as his tongue glides over the seam of your lips, sighing into you again as you open for him. 

Hands roaming to his chest, your palms flatten there as your back bumps into the door. Steve slots his knee between your legs, letting the weight of his body fall against you as your hands climb up his chest. One rests on his shoulder, thumb tugging and brushing against the collar of his shirt as the other trails higher on his neck until it holds his jaw. The slight scratch of scruff against your face contrasting with soft lips that continue to kiss you like he thinks he won't get to ever again. 

It turns desperate quickly, breathily sighing his name into his mouth as he sucks on your bottom lip. It makes Steve kiss even slower, a different kind of teasing than you're used to with each other. His lips move over yours languidly, but precise. Each press to yours a conscious decision, every nudge of his nose against yours purposeful until he's got his hands on either side of your head, palms holding him up against the door. Until yours are twisting his shirt in your fists. Kissing you so slow, you've forgotten to come up for air, panting breaths and back arching as he lets his teeth drag on your bottom lip. Tugging it and sucking before releasing it with a quiet pop. Steve laughs a little into your jaw as you shiver. He's breathing hard, lips ghosting over your skin as you breathlessly laugh too.

"Are we-"

"Do you want to-"

Smiling as you speak at the same time, both sounding a little wrecked. 

"Fuck, please," Steve pleads into your lips and you can't move fast enough. 

Reaching behind you to your door handle, you spin to unlock it as Steve presses up behind you. Large hands landing on your hips after he brushes your hair to one side. Nose dragging against the back of your ear, breath hot against your skin as he mouths at you, "Baby, hurry."

Baby.

Heart stuttering at the name you didn't realize how much you missed until you heard it again. 

You laugh, realizing this is crazy, only for it to break off into a moan as he presses his growing erection into your back and sucks at the skin just behind your ear. "Fu-fuck, Steve," you stumble as his fingers squeeze your hips and his bruising mark heats up under his mouth, "St-stop distracting me."

Steve's smile against your skin makes you shiver again. Soft lips grazing just barely against your cheek, down to your jaw. His hands bunch your shirt into his fists, knuckles brushing your sides as he sighs. "Dunno what you're talking about honey."

The lock clicks open finally, Steve reaches for the knob, engulfing your hand with his and pushing you both inside. He laces his fingers into yours as his other hand locks the door once more. Fingers intertwined, he spins you, back against the door again. 

"Smooth," you smirk as he catches your lips with his.

"You liked it," he breathes into your mouth. He tugs at your hips until you're straddling his thigh. One hand wraps around your back, palm pressing you closer to him as his lips move over yours slowly once more. 

You're not sure how long it's been since you've been kissed like this - if you've ever been kissed like this. 

Parted lips, tongues meeting soft and lazy, your fingers get lost in his hair as his slowly roam under your thighs, lifting you and guiding you to wrap around his waist. Steve starts laughing as you kick your shoes off and he nearly trips on them as he makes his way to your bedroom, kicking his own off somewhere along the way. 

Rain hits against your bedroom window rhymically, curtains filtering in the pale blue dusk as Steve sits down on your bed. Your legs falling on either side of his hips as you straddle him.

Steve deepens the kiss, breath warm on your cheek as he angles his head, smiling as you moan when he nips at your bottom lip again. He pulls away just enough to look at you, his thumbs brushing your cheeks as his eyes move over your face, tracking and tracing over the freckles and curves of you. You missed seeing him in this space and it makes your heart beat harder. Realizing in just a week the scent of his cologne has faded from your sheets, second coffee cups unused, a tangible thing missing from your home in too many ways to count. 

Steve's watching you curiously as your hands moved without realizing, tracing over the features of his face physically. Fingers over his eyebrows, the slope of his nose, his flushed cheeks before following the curve of his top lip. Backtracking and touching his cupid's bow. His own thumb roams to your lips too, dragging over your bottom lip as he sighs, "I don't have a condom. I didn't really expect..."

Your fingers fall, shrugging as you quietly admit, "I don’t either. But I haven't slept with anyone but you Steve. Not since before..."

"Yeah?" he swallows, thumb on your chin and pulling you in for a soft kiss. The rain picks up somehow, mirroring your hammering heart. 

Reluctantly removing your lips from his, your fingers scratch down his shirt. They fiddle with the hem of it as you avoid his gaze, "Have...have you?" 

He shakes his head, nose bumping yours as he whispers, "Just you."

"Okay," you exhale a shaky breath. 

He smiles, hands wrapping around your back. "Okay."

A crack of thunder rumbles outside so loud it feels like it's inside your apartment and you jump, clinging to Steve. His hands soothe up your spine, nose pressing into your cheek as his fingers cradle your jaw again. Your lips catch his top one in a soft press before your hands lift his shirt. 

You've removed each other's clothes before, but something about tonight feels different. Slowly tugging the shirt over his head, hair ruffled as it's drying. Your hands roam over his biceps, leaning in to kiss him again, smiling as his muscles flex under your fingertips as his run across the exposed skin on your lower back. Fingernails scratch down his chest, curls of his chest hair sticking to his tanned skin from the rain that soaked through the fabric. His arms are filled with new freckles from all the sun lately and you can’t help but lean forward and let your lips drag over them. As your fingers stop on his stomach, Steve slowly lifts your shirt from you. A flash of lightning illuminates your room, Steve's eyes drinking you in as his hands roam over you just as yours had on him. Buzzing touches into your skin, sending vibrations throughout your body as he pulls you closer to his chest. 

His nose ghosts over the shell of your ear, lips kissing under it. The pads of his fingers press into your spine and he sighs as he leaves a trail of kisses down your neck to your shoulder. Resting in a spot only he's found that makes you whimper without control, lip tugging between your teeth and back arching as he bites down gently. He sucks over the spot before his tongue soothes it as his hands cradle you closer. He sighs into your neck as you whine again. His breath is fast and hot against your skin, kissing up the column of your throat as you extend it for him, head thrown back as he holds you tighter. His mouth moves lower as his hands do the same, pulling you down and guiding you to rock against him and your stomach flutters alive with butterflies. 

Steve can’t seem to keep his hands still, squeezing your hips, roaming to your back again, soon he’s cradling your jaw, pulling you in for a deeper kiss as he falls onto the bed further. He groans as you grind against the bulge under his jeans, rolling your hips harder as his hands slip into your back pockets. Your kiss becomes frantic, letting your weight fall against him completely and he breathes into you, hands moving to your back again. “Hey,” he shakes his head against your lips, smile ghosting over them as you whine. He tugs on your chin, thumb holding it as he gasps into your mouth, “Slow down. I’m not going anywhere.”

A whimper into his lips, his words make your chest ache. His fingers toy with the strap of your dark maroon bra, they trace the lace above the cups, thumb brushing over the hardened bead of your nipple through the fabric. He breathes into your lips, smiling, “This is new isn’t it?”

Nodding against his kiss, you whine again as his fingers move at a tantalizing pace over your skin, rolling you onto your back. He holds your waist as your back arches and his lips kiss over your chest. He huffs a quiet laugh into your navel as he moves lower, “You were so going to Argyle’s to try to get laid tonight.”

You’re quiet at his words, pretending like you didn’t hear him and he gasps dramatically against your skin. Lips and nose tracing the band of your jeans as his fingers squeeze at your hips. “Wow. And here I thought I was special.”

His fingers fiddle with the zipper of the denim as you breathily ask, “Excuse me?”

He pops open the button, rolling your jeans down, nose dragging over the maroon colored lace exposed. Steve scoffs, “Aha! Matching new set! I was right!”

Your hips lift as he tugs the pants off of you completely and you roll your eyes, ignoring him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He makes eye contact with you as he unbuttons his own jeans, disbelief in every feature of his face and you bite your lip as his pants drop and he steps out of them. His fingers trail up your legs, hooking around your knees as he crawls forward. Squirming under him as his thumb brushes the ticklish spot and he smirks. His hands climb up your thighs, squeezing at the soft and doughy flesh. 

Steve’s lips trail across your hips, skimming across the band of lace as you breathe out, “Okay, how did you…oh,” thoughts broken off into a moan as he sucks on your hip, fingers dragging over your clothed slit. 

He kisses up your body, nose pressed to your jaw as the pads of two his fingers dip under the band of lace, teasing, not moving any further, brushing back and forth. His legs straddle one of yours, hard length pressed to your hip, your other leg rising as your back arches. Steve smiles against your jaw, fingers slowly moving lower as your breath quickens. He speaks into your neck, “Honey, were you really about to ask me how I knew?”

He presses a soft kiss to your damp skin, goosebumps rising as he whispers, “Told you, I know you.”

The pad of his finger catches your clit just barely, slipping past it and you whine, fingers twisting in your comforter as your toes curl. Steve makes a soft tutting noise, “She’s needy, huh? Missed me?”

You want to roll your eyes at his cockiness, but your thighs spread, head nodding as you tug your lip between your teeth. 

When Steve said slow down, he meant it. His kissing, his words, the slow pace of his movements has you aroused embarrassingly quick, slick coating between your thighs. His fingers drag through your folds, teasing at your entrance and quite literally slipping up to your clit, pressing lazy and messy circles into it. A sigh, a whine of his name falls past your lips as your hands find his shoulders. Your body stretches away from him, overwhelmed already as he props himself up on his forearm and hip. 

He gives in to your whimpers, granting you a kiss. Lips latched onto your top one as he breathes heavily, his fingers sliding easily through you as he rolls his hips against your side. Your fingers scratch down his chest, hooking around his neck and tugging him on top of your body. His hand slips from your underwear, cradling your face as he grinds himself against you. 

Arching as your hands roam over the muscles of his back, you push at his boxers. His hands move to your hips, both of you sliding undergarments from each other while refusing to break your kiss. His tip catches at your clit and you moan into his lips. He unclasps your bra, flinging it somewhere and you nod against him, nose pressed to his cheek as he slides through your folds, nudging at your entrance. 

Steve pushes into you torturously slowly, your lungs feel like the air was sucked from them. Tears pricking at your lash line because you missed him. Missed this, of course, but you’re realizing you just missed Steve. 

His mouth falls open against yours, eyes pinching closed as his hand grips at your waist. Cursing softly at the roll of your hips, begging him to go deeper. His hand squeezes your thighs, wrapping them around his waist as he bottoms out, your strangled moans mixing together. 

Steve focuses on your lips again, kissing you softly as your ankles lock behind his back. He lets his weight fall on you, hand against your lower back as he angles your body for him, beginning to thrust slowly. 

Sex with Steve has always been good. He takes care of you, makes sure you’re comfortable, you orgasm at least once (but always more), and praising you to no end. His dirty talk is what always pushes you over the edge, hurtling through space. 

This is different. 

The rain beats loudly against your window, your sighs and gasps lost in it. He’s breathing your name into your lips, fingers pressed into your spine. Every drag of his cock along your walls makes him moan, makes you clench around him tighter. Your foreheads press together, his nose nudges into your cheek, you want him closer and it’s impossible, there’s nothing between you and you feel the stones of the wall you surround yourself with crumbling. 

Rolling your hips to meet each of his thrusts, he whispers into your mouth, “So good f’me,” kissing you sweetly, “Baby.” His hands roam up your body, fingertips grazing across your skin. He pushes himself deeper and you gasp out his name. The cool metal of Steve’s chain hanging from his neck, taps at your chin with each lazy thrust and your thumbs drag on it around his neck, tugging. Part of you wants to rip it off, wrap it around your own neck and be his. 

Steve practically begs, your name a plea on his lips against yours as his fingers roam higher, lacing with yours and pushing them into the pillows. Held hands above your head now and you moan loudly, nodding into his kiss as the new position gives him leverage to roll his hips. Each thrust hitting deeper now, pausing before he pulls out halfway and does it all over again. Frantic as your body fills with heat, telling him to keep going, that it’s the perfect spot. Bodies sliding together like they’re made for each other, sweat slicked as they drag against one another. Steve pants your name again, fingers flexing in yours as you grip him tighter, sinking into the mattress with every slow and powerful thrust. 

He squeezes your hands harder and your stomach somersaults. Lips moving against yours needy, desperate, you can feel the ache in his chest mixing with yours as his thrusts pick up their pace. Your foreheads still touching, his kiss turns soft, contrasting with the way his hips meet yours - the sound of your slick coating him mixing with the rain. His mouth hovers over yours and your eyes flutter open, making eye contact with him. Steve’s face is flushed, eyes looking at you like no one ever has before, like a bulldozer was taken to the wall around your heart, metal armor shattering and clanging to the floor.

He squeezes your hands again, pushing them higher and your mouth parts in a gasp as something in you melts with each snap of his hips. Your ears buzz with static, lips tingling against his as white heat bursts through you, thighs shaking around his waist. This has to be what it feels like to sit in a rocket before take off. Adrenaline and excitement mixed with something that makes your pulse throb in your ears. 

Steve whispers into your lips, “That’s it, honey, come on.” Your stomach flips around his words, your orgasm rolling through you. Squeezing his hands as your back arches. Your eyes flutter open, making eye contact with him again. Steve kisses you harder, moaning into your lips as his thrusts stutter, his release filling you up as you come down from your high.

His movements slow, both of you breathing heavily, skin flushed and damp. Steve releases your fingers, dragging his hands down your body, wrapping around your lower back. Yours fall around his shoulders, holding the back of his head, scratching at his scalp and smiling when he shivers. His nose brushes down yours, eyes meeting before his look at your lips. Fluttering closed as you kiss again. 

A different kiss. 

The kind you’ve only watched in the movies. The kiss after, not fucking, but the kind of sex where you can feel the emotions coming off the screen. 

You’re exhausted, limbs heavy and eyelids even more so. Your fingers card through his hair as his lips slip over yours lazily. Rolling to his side and pulling you with him, Steve pulls out of you with a quiet wince, his touch buzzing circles into your spine. 

“That was…” you whisper, breaking off into a yawn. 

“Yeah?” You don’t have to open your eyes to know he’s smiling. 

“Yeah.” Kissing his jaw and sighing as sleep tries to pull you under. 

Steve’s strong and warm arms, the rain, and the way your heart feels lighter, gooier, it’s all a perfect concoction for sleep, and despite knowing that you need to talk about this, you don’t. You let the heavy blanket of exhaustion wash over you, curling into Steve’s chest as your breathing grows more steady. 

Unsure of how long you’re asleep for, you wake to the soft silk of his lips on your temple, then your cheek. Steve’s whisper of having to leave and you hum, not really hearing him. Fully rising when the sun is too warm on your face coming in through the curtains. Your eyes blink open heavily, the mattress next to you empty. 

Rolling to your side, you hide your smile with the blanket. A glass of water with a note leaning against it from Steve, reminding you he left and he’ll text you. 

The corner of white sticking out from your jeans on the floor draws your attention. Pulling the sheet around you as you pad over to it, your photos from last night are a blur. Water damaged, and smeared on the edges, but if you squint you can still make out yours and Steve’s smiles. Your thumb brushes over the last one, heartbeat kicking up as your palms sweat and you close your eyes. 

Fuck. 

Are you falling in love with Steve Harrington? 

The buzz of your phone wakes you from your half asleep state, forehead and neck clammy with sweat and you pull your blanket over your shoulders again. Burrowing your face in your pillow as tears prick behind your eyes. You miss Steve, and you haven’t had a chance to talk other than a few texts since last weekend. You have no idea what he’s thinking and you’ve been ripping yourself up from the inside out with your own conflicted feelings. Silly to cry over it, you know that, but your hormones have other plans. 

Swiping at your lash line, you respond quickly and lock your phone, eyes focusing back on the movie playing. 

An hour later when your front door rings for the take out you ordered, you buzz them in and unlock the door. Returning from your bedroom as you pull a sweatshirt on, your body freezes at the sight of Steve standing in your doorway. 

He’s dressed slightly more formal than you’ve ever seen him. Hair gelled perfectly, matching navy suit with the coat and vest that’s usually missing from his work attire. The tips of his brown shoes and sheen of his matching leather belt make you glance down at your own outfit. You’re in your comfiest sweats, one leg tucked into fuzzy socks with ducks, your sweatshirt you just pulled on ripping at the sleeves, giant gaping holes in it and stains down the front. Your hair is sweaty, yanked back in a frizzled and matted ponytail. 

Your arms curl in on yourself. “What are you doing here?”

Steve closes the door behind him, holding up two brown paper bags from two different places. He goes to your kitchen with a frown on his face. “You said you were sick. Do you always buzz people in without asking their name and leave your door unlocked for them? Cause that’s really not safe?”

He spins, removing his jacket and unbuttoning his vest as he looks in your cupboard for a plate. He asks over his shoulder, “Do you want the chinese food I intercepted at the door or the pancakes I brought?”

His words make tears fall past your lash line and you quickly swipe at them, clearing your throat before he notices and you whisper, “Pancakes, please.”

He starts opening the bag, looking up at you. His cheeks turn pink, rubbing the back of his neck as he nods towards the couch with a smile, “Go lay down, you look like crap.”

Rolling your eyes, you sniffle but listen to him. Sitting up now and curled under your blanket, you reach for the cord of your heating pad, bumping up the temp as he enters the room with a plate. Watching him take in the stack of movies, the book on your coffee table, the heating pad, bottle of painkillers and finally your face. 

His lips twitch up on one side as he sits, lifting your legs and draping them over his lap as he hands you the plate. 

“Thanks,” you whisper. 

Steve watches as you roll a pancake, picking it up with your fingers and nibble on it, closing your eyes as it hits your tongue with a quiet sigh. 

He rubs at your ankle, thumb soothing under the elastic of the bottom of your sweats. Squirming at the thought of your prickly hair, you start to pull away from him, voice tense, “Steve…”

He massages your calf and your eyes flutter closed, moaning into your bite of pancake. When you open them, you see him smiling at the screen and your other foot kicks at his thigh, “Stop gloating.”

His fingernails scratch down your leg and you shiver, rolling your shoulders back as he speaks softly, “I’m not gloating. Just nice that you’re letting me take care of you is all.”

Normally you’d push back, shut him down, tell him you don’t need his help, but it’s been a particularly bad period and after your last night with him, your emotions are getting the best of you. 

Sinking down into the couch, you mumble into your pancakes, “Sometimes it’s nice to be taken care of…”

Steve hums, eyes trained on The Princess Bride playing on your small TV as he asks, “When’s the last time you let someone do that?”

Shrugging your shoulders, your eyes trained on your pancakes that become blurry, as you squeak out, “I don’t know. A while.”

He drops the subject, both of you sinking into the couch as he massages up and down both of your calves. His fingers and thumbs resting on your ankle as the movie plays. Eventually your eyes start to drift closed as the credits roll and Steve squeezes your leg gently, whispering, “Hey, why don’t you go lay down in bed.”

“ ‘m fine. Not tired,” you mumble, eyes blinking open. 

He scoffs, slipping out from under you and before you can protest, he’s pulling your blanket off, unplugging your heating pad. He picks you up under your arms, hoisting you to your feet as you groan. Your hands wrap around his neck, face pressed to his chest as you yawn. Steve’s arms wrap around you hesitantly, his cheek to the top of your head. 

You stand there for a while, holding each other, your breath falling more even as you inhale his cologne. All woodsy and the faintest hint of a cigar on his tie. 

His palms rub up and down your spine and he whispers, “Come on, I’ll put a movie on your laptop and you’ll feel a lot better laying down in there, right?”

Nodding your head, you let him go, heading to the bathroom before finding him in your room. He’s fluffing your pillow and smiling at you as you stand in the doorway. He pats the bed and you make no movement to enter the room, hands twisting together in front of you as your stomach ties itself in a knot, your words stuck in your throat. 

Steve stops his movement, eyebrows raising, “What’s up?”

Exhaling a breath through your nose, your eyes look into his before finding the floor much more interesting as you ask, “Will you…will you stay?”

“Yeah, of course.” He looks down at his clothes and then up at you, gesturing to them, “Is it okay if I take these off?”

Smiling, you tug your lip between your teeth as you climb into your bed, “What, you don’t wanna relax in a three piece suit, Steve?”

He rolls his eyes but starts unbuttoning his slacks, you try to focus on pulling up a movie instead of the way he carefully folds his pants and vest over your desk chair. He’s got just his button down on now, black boxer’s and thick dress socks. You drag your palm down your cheek and scold yourself for letting your hormones derail your thoughts into something dirty. He’s just a friend here to watch a movie.  

He looks at the laptop screen as he hangs the button down in the same place, crawling in next to you in just his white undershirt and boxers. Warm socked feet tangling with yours as he raises his eyebrows and asks, “Holes? You wanna watch the movie Holes?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you roll onto your side to face the screen, quietly admitting, “Yeah, it’s a good movie. You don’t like it?”

Steve props himself up on his arm, head resting in his palm as his other hand rubs at your shoulder. “No, it’s good. I’m just surprised by your movie choices tonight is all.”

Your eyes flutter closed as his hand rests on your waist, thumb brushing under your sweatshirt at the bare skin he finds there. Humming as you relax back against his warmth. “What do you mean?”

Steve’s breath is warm on your neck and cheek as his thumb continues to rub circles, “I don’t know, The Princess Bride? Holes? I saw The Notebook out there and your book on the table was Pride and Prejudice. Seems like someone who hates love, secretly doesn’t.”

You huff, burrowing back against him and tangling your legs between his. If you had your eyes open you’d see him smiling down at your pout, but you do feel his squeeze on your hip as you reply, “Holes doesn't have anything to do with love and The Notebook is out there because Robin left it here after she made me watch it, so.”

Steve laughs quietly, “Holes is totally a love story. Sam’s ‘I can fix that’ is a nod to ‘As you wish’ and Kate’s revenge is because the love of her life was killed, and,” Steve squeezes your hip again, nose dragging across the back of your neck as he whispers, “That’s bullshit about Robin, cause I know for a fact she hates The Notebook.”

Your heart beats faster in your chest, palms sweating where they hold your blanket up to your chin as your eyes open. You want to deny it. To tell him he’s got it wrong, but there is something about these movies that always pulls you back in, and maybe it’s okay to tell him that. 

“I like that they all still love each other, even when they’re ripped apart from each other. They didn’t let life take their love away.”

Steve’s breath changes on your neck, his fingers pause just slightly on your hip and you feel tears in your eyes as you clear your throat. Deciding that if you want Steve in your life, you’re going to have to be open and tell him things you normally keep close and guarded. 

Not noticing you’re doing it, you pull his hand from your hip, playing with his fingers in front of you as you tell him all about your parents, their once in a lifetime kind of love. Dancing in the kitchen and your dad hitting your mom’s butt when she wore a particular pair of jeans. Your tears fall down your cheeks and you wipe at them as the movie continues to play while you retell their love story and how they met. Their date nights once a month no matter what, their coffee on Sunday mornings and feeding each other food while driving on long road trips. Knowing each other’s orders and getting the other ice cream even when they say they didn’t want anything.  

Rolling to face him, Steve’s eyes roam over your face, his thumb brushing at your cheeks before you grab it again, holding it against your chest as you tell him how your mom got sick. How your boyfriend in college who you’d thought was the one left when it got hard. How you watched your mom wither away, alone. Your dad stayed with her every day, and you knew it, that when she died, you’d never get him back, not the full dad you knew. He died a week after your mom, and you’re certain it was from a broken heart. Certain no one could have anything comparable to their love for one another. Convincing yourself that a person only gets to witness a love story like that once, and they were it for you. 

Steve’s eyes are wet with unshed tears as you shrug and swipe at your nose. Your voice scratchy and rough as you clear it and whisper, “I’ve never told anyone about that before. We moved around so much when I was little, and after they died…well,” you laugh a little, backhanding your cheek roughly, “I just kept moving too.”

“I’m so sorry,” Steve’s palm rests against your cheek, forehead pressing to yours.

“Yeah,” you sigh out in a breath. 

Steve swallows loudly, nose nudging against yours as his hands warm up and down your spine, soothing you. Your legs tangle together as Kate dies on the screen of your laptop, imagining her true love has returned for her. 

It’s hours later, your bedroom lilac and blue as dawn rises outside your curtains. Warmer than normal when you wake up to buzzing. Steve’s arms are wrapped around you, his body pressed flush against your back, puffs of his breath hitting just behind your ear on a shared pillow. 

Rubbing at your eyes, you search for the sound, nudging him awake, “Steve, phone.”

“What, honey?” He doesn’t open his eyes, nosing into your neck and arm tightening around your waist. 

Heart stuttering and a smile pulling on your lips as you nudge him again, “Steve, your phone is going off.”

He sits up abruptly, voice hoarse, “Oh fuck!”

“What, what’s wrong?” Rolling as he slips out of bed, pulling his clothes on quickly. 

He grimaces at his phone, locking it and shoving it in his pocket. He holds his shirts in his hands and leans over you in bed, hands grabbing your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry, I gotta go, my parents are here and…” he sighs, forehead touching yours, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, holding onto his wrists. 

Steve’s eyes open, glancing down at your lips before he pulls you in closer. He presses a soft kiss to them, sighing into you as he whispers it again, “I’m sorry. I’ll…I’ll see you at the game later. I,” his phone starts buzzing again and he groans. 

He kisses your lips quickly again and then he’s gone. 

You let yourself get ready for the day with a smile on your face after that. Telling Steve about your past was the right decision, you know it was. You feel lighter, you feel hopeful for the first time in a long time. Your thumb brushes over your photos from last week again, letting them rest on your desk as you finish your coffee. 

You’re lost in daydreams of getting ready for tailgating and outings with the group in the future, only Steve is next to you in a different way. It’s insane, it makes your heart stutter, makes your stomach flip, but you have a smile you can’t hold back at the thought of it all. Robin would surely be okay with everything that’s happened, if it meant you and Steve are happy. 

When Robin, Nancy, and Eddie pick you up, you’re caught up in Eddie insisting that that top stays off of the jeep all day despite Nancy pulling up the weather app and telling him the chance of rain. 

The tailgating spot is all set up and Eddie and you are crushing Robin and Nancy at bags, beers in hand and matching sunglasses on your faces. You pretend to chest bump as you score three more points while they’re stuck at zero. 

Robin grimaces at the two of you, finger waggling, “I’m really regretting this. I don’t like you two together. You’re too similar.”

Nancy looks frazzled, hating that they’re losing. She tries showing Robin a better way to throw and Robin throws her hands up in the air, turning to the two of you again. “Can’t you go easy on us? You both know I’m athletically challenged.”

Eddie shakes his head laughing, “No can do, toots!”

Robin pretends to gag, “Gross, don’t call me toots.”

Nancy puts her hands on Robin’s shoulders, her voice strained, “Robin. Focus.”

While they gameplan and Eddie heads to the cooler for another beer, you look around wondering where Steve is. Checking your pockets, figuring you left your phone in the jeep and you open the door to search for it. 

When you do, you see three missed calls from Steve and three texts:

Your brows furrow at the messages, heart rate picking up as you wonder what could possibly be wrong. Green phone button ready to be pressed under your thumb when relief washes over you as Robin shouts, “Dingus! It’s about time! You’re going in for me as Nace’s partner, I give up.”

Turning to face him as your shoulders relax, your smile on your face quickly falls. 

Steve has another girl’s hand in his and he’s staring at you as he says, “Hey guys, sorry we’re late.”

A/N: I cannot say thank you enough for the patience in waiting for this series to update. I'm forever grateful for those of you who are sticking by this series despite long wait times in updates & I'm happy to see some new readers still finding this little world! We have one final part after this (plus a small epilogue), and I promise, it's coming soon. Endless endless thanks to my beta @sweetsweetjellybean and my ladies for talking me off cliffs and helping me make this series the best it can be. 💛

WCIL Taglist: @boomhauer @loveshotzz @myobmaya @sweetsweetjellybean @pastel-pillows @littlesubbyflower @johnricharddeacy @freezaz123 @selfdeprecatingnerd @big-ope-vibes @manda-panda-monium @hellkaisersangel @yogizzz @soulmatecashton @happytimeunicorns @mandyjo8719 @lunarxeclipse @buckleylips @beckkthewreck @differentdeputyfishpaper @supardupar @micheledawn1975 @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @sagelittleplace @totally-bogus-timelady @steves-babysitter @fallinginlovewithqueue @aftermidnightwriting @omgshesinsane @pootcullen @definitionwanderlust @nostalgiafool @palmtreesx3 @scoopshxrrington @live-the-fangirl-life

[milaisreading]

Random scenarios between the manager and Blue Lock (pt 1)

Characters: Isagi, Bachira, Chigiri, Kunigami, Gagamaru, Baro, Reo and Nagi

Pt II will include: Yukimiya, Otoya, Hiori, Karasu, Rin and Kurona

Idk, thought of this randomly and I am sorry that it's this long for no reason. Requests are open if anyone wants to!

Warning ⚠️: Y/n is used with she/her. Possible manga spoilers.

⚽️Blue Lock is owned by:  Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

Part II

Isagi:

"Do you need help with that, (Y/n)?" The girl turned to look in the direction the familiar voice came from, shaking her head with a smile.

"It's alright, Isagi. The boxes aren't heavy, go and rest. It's not everyday Ego-san shows mercy and let's you rest." (Y/n) said as the boy frowned a little. Shaking his head, he walked to where one of the boxes was and took it.

"It's really nothing. Friends are there to help, and I do feel kind of guilty that you can't rest." He admitted with a blush. The statement surprised the girl and she smiled back softly.

"I don't mind, it's in my contract after all. And besides, I am trying to do my best to make it easy on you guys as well. Being the future champions of Japan is a big burden!"

"Champions? You think we have a chance at winning?" Isagi asked, surprised at how confident she was in them. It warmed his heart knowing there was someone who believed in him even if he didn't.

"Of course! You guys are doing great, and with the talents you all are polishing you will be unstoppable at the World Cup! Trust me." (Y/n)'s grin along with her words caused the boy's face to turn a brighter red and a new sense of confidence took over his body.

"Thanks! I promise to not disappoint your expectations!"

"I know you won't!" (Y/n) nodded her head.

'I promise to get the Cup! Then I will ask (Y/n) out.' Isagi nodded to himself, a new goal already formed in his head.

Bachira:

"Bachira, come on! It's getting late and you need to sleep too." (Y/n) said, trying to get the boy off of the ground, but he wouldn't budge. It was already late and (Y/n) just wanted to clean everything up and go to sleep. Knowing how Ego is, he was probably judging her behind one of the cameras.

"No! I want to still play and train!"

"Is your monster telling you that?" (Y/n) wondered out loud as the boy kept quiet. She already got used to the talk of the monster and in Blue Lock nothing can really surprise her anymore, so asking about the monster came like a 2nd instinct to her.

"No... I just want to do better." Bachira said, hiding a small blush. It still amazed him how little she cared about the monster and acted like it's a normal thing. Unlike all the other people he met out and in Blue Lock.

"You are already great! Bachira, you need to rest too. Wanting to become great is a good thing here, but with no rest you will never achieve it." (Y/n) argued, but the boy still wouldn't budge. The girl thought for a moment, then went to pick up a ball from nearby.

'If you can't beat him, then join in.' She thought, kicking the ball towards the boy.

"Huh?" Bachira thought, picking the balk up and looking at the girl.

"How about this, I will help you train everyday for 30 minutes and then you go to sleep? Is that good?" Bachira looked at her in confusion for a moment, but soon after grinned and jumped up, kicking the ball back.

"Alright! It's a deal!"

'She is all I need to keep calm... my monster loves her and so do I. I can't wait till I win the World Cup and ask her out!'

Chigiri:

Excitedly, (Y/n) ran down the hallway to look for her red haired friend, package held tightly against her chest. She had been waiting for the item for weeks, and she was more than happy to know it came before the U-20 match.

'It's here! Teieri-san was right when she said it will be fast! Chigiri will love this!' She thought, running to the cafeteria where she eventually found the boy eating.

"Chigiri! I got something for you!"

Surprised, the boy looked up from his plate as (Y/n) stood in front of him, holding out the mysterious box to him.

"What... what is that? I didn't order anything." Chigiri argued, his face going a bright red when he looked at (Y/n) more closely.

'She looks so pretty today...'

"I know! I ordered it... well Teieri-san did since she is the one with the money... but that doesn't matter! Here, open it please!"

Confused, Chigiri took the box and slowly opened it. His expression turned into a shocked one, inside was a red knee brace and he took it out to inspect it.

"Where... where did you find that?" Chigiri asked, noticing it had his initials on the inside.

"I showed it to Teieri-san after I looked for a way to make your running easier, and she agreed to use the funds to buy it! The company even offered some personal touches as well. Hope you like it!" (Y/n) grinned excitedly as Chigiri kept quiet for a moment, unsure what to say. He was really touched that someone outside his family cared this much, not to mention it was the same girl he had liked for the past few months.

"I... I love it. Thank you, I will make sure to wear it whenever I can."

As (Y/n) was cheering him on, Chigiri couldn't help a fond smile as he looked up at her.

'Yes, she is the one I want. Coming and staying in Blue Lock was the best decision. I love her so much that I don't think I can hold it in till the World Cup.' He sighed.

Kunigami:

"Why are you eating alone? I am used to seeing Isagi and Chigiri with you." (Y/n) said as she sat across Kunigami, who nervously swallowed his food down.

"They went to sleep, I stayed a little later than usually to train."

(Y/n) nodded her head, sliding her noodles to him.

"Huh?"

"You need the food more than I do right now. Besides, I ate a lot during lunch today." The girl explained as the boy looked around the place, then back at her.

"You sure Ego-san won't get mad?"

"It won't be the first time. I stopped counting the amount of times Nagi stole food from me." (Y/n) shrugged her shoulders as Kunigami took the bowl, grateful for the extra food.

"Thank you... and thanks for the help. We don't tell you that often." He said with a tint of red on his cheeks.

"You really don't need to thank me, watching you all play is rewarding enough. Can't wait till I see you guys bring Japanese football to the next level! That will be exciting!"

The answer surprised the boy and he slowly nodded his head. A comforting silence fell among them and Kunigami kept sending the girl a few short glances.

'She looks prettier than normally... I really hope we stay close after Blue Lock. Maybe in a year or so I could ask her out properly.'

Gagamaru:

"Good job, Gagamaru! You did great out there! The save was amazing!" The boy blushed as (Y/n) patted his back. It wasn't a everyday thing that anyone paid this much attention to him. He was mostly silent and on the goal, not scoring and usually out of the attention radar. Well, except from Ego and (Y/n)'s, who paid attention to him for different reasons. Ego to either point out his flaws or sometimes compliment him in a weird way. (Y/n) meanwhile watched him always in a encouraging and warm way, a way that made him want to do better, show off his skills.

"Y-you think so?" The boy wondered as he wiped off his sweat.

"Yeah! You are so ready for the U-20 match! They won't know what hit them when they see you on the goal!" (Y/n) told him. Her words meant a lot more to him than (Y/n) could imagine, and je was kind of greatful for Reo coming over to pull (Y/n) away for some reason. Gagamaru watched her and sighed dreamily.

'If only I wasn't so silent... but soon I will open up. I just need to prove myself first.' Gagamaru nodded to himself.

Baro:

"Why do the towels smell so differently?" Baro wondered and looked straight at (Y/n) as she picked up the empty water bottles. The girl stopped in her tracks and thought for a moment.

"Oh! I forgot that I am using a new detergent now. That's why it smells differently."

"A new detergent?" Baro questioned.

"You complained a week ago that the detergent smelled bad and made the towels rougher than necessary. After inspecting them I asked Ego-san to switch them out. Thank God Teieri-san was there to help me." Baro kept quiet for a moment as he stared at (Y/n), making the girl more nervous than needed.

"Is that not good either? I made sure to get the extra softening one."

"No! No it's fine, I just didn't expect you to care enough for it this much." Baro said, sounding genuinely dumbfounded.

"My job is to take care of your issues, and you are my friend. So why wouldn't I care." (Y/n) shrugged, going back to her previous duties as Baro sighed and smelled the towel a little more.

'My queen is always making sure I am doing great. Can't wait till I make everything official. She will have the best of the best.'

Reo:

Reo walked through the hallway as he held a box with some baked goods his parents had sent him. It wasn't normal for Ego to allow presents inside, but after the victory over U-20, he became more lenient. So now once a month they could get some baked goods from the outside.

'Where is she... I hope she will like them. I asked my mom to find the best bakery in the city.'

The boy opened the door to one of the training rooms and sighed in relief when he saw (Y/n) there taking notes.

"(Y/n)! Are you busy?" The boy asked as the girl turned around to look at Reo in surprise.

"Reo?! Not at all, did you need something?" (Y/n) wondered as the boy jogged over to her, handing her the box.

"Not really! I just wanted to give you this! Hope you like them." Reo said as he blushed. (Y/n) looked at the box in surprise and took it slowly.

"For me? Strange, I already got the package from my parents."

"This is from my parents. I asked them to get these for you... as a thank you gift." Reo said, sounding bashful as he watched (Y/n) open the box, gasping when she saw the cupcakes inside.

"Reo! This is too much! They look like those expensive ones advertised on the internet! Why would you do this?!" (Y/n) asked, sounding genuinely embarrassed.

"You do a lot for us...and I wanted to thank you in some way. And this is my way of doing so. Just take them, please." Reo insisted, and after a minute or two (Y/n) finally agreed.

"I owe you one." She muttered as she took a bite from one of the cupcakes and the boy shook his head as he ate one too, after (Y/n) forced him to take it.

'Typical... she never let's anyone take care of her. But I will show (Y/n) that she can always rely on me. I will keep doing it as long as it takes for her to realize she deserves it.' Reo sighed, already planning something else.

Nagi:

Nagi groaned as he hid in a nearby storage room. Out of Ego's short neglect, the boy had escaped the training room and found safety in the abandoned corner of the building. He really didn't wish to leave training today, since (Y/n) was there, but he barely got any sleep the past week. It was all because of his ever-growing crush on the girl, he felt like his heart would explode when he was around her, and at night it became hard to sleep because of it.

'Stupid feelings...' Nagi groaned, closing his eyes shut as he heard the doorknob rattle. He groaned inwardly, prepared for a scolding from Ego or whoever it was, but nothing came of it.

"Did you find him, (Y/n)?" Reo's voice was heard and Nagi resisted the urge to open his eyes and look at the girl.

'Great...' The boy thought, expecting her to say yes.

"Uhh... no. Just some old brooms."

'Huh? Did he just lie?' Nagi thought in shock as he heard Reo groan and walking off to a different place. He heard (Y/n) sigh and she walked closer to Nagi's frozen form.

"I know you are awake. Go and take a nap, I will deal with Ego-san."

"And why would you do that?" Nagi asked suspiciously, opening one eye as (Y/n) shrugged her shoulders.

"You need rest, that's quite obvious. I want you to be healthy and well-rested, not half dead. Just go, Nagi." (Y/n) said and walked out to go and talk with Ego.

The boy stared at the entrance as his face turned a bright red and he hid his face with his hands.

'I think I really do love her even more now!'

[poppy-in-the-woods]

My Ride or Die - Part 2

Plot: Noah is your husband. Five years ago, he killed a man that was attacking you. The judge ruled that, since he shot him several times after he already had been stabbed by you, it was no longer self-defense. He got twenty years, and that was two and a half years ago. After the conjugal visit for his birthday, you visit him, bringing food and other presents to help him keep warm on cold nights.

Pairing: Noah x Female Reader

Word Count: 2601

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Tags: fluff, bit of angst, convict!Noah, masturbation, mentions of suggestive pictures.

Author’s note: betaed by the amazing @rottingfern. Sorry for the long wait, but you know, life gets in the way of writing sometimes, and I wanted to polish this one as much as I could. Let me know how I did, and hope you enjoy.

It had been exactly a week since you last saw Noah. You definitely needed a bit more recovery before thinking about having wild sex again, the ache between your legs still dully moaning, but you two were happy to see each other nonetheless.

The room was busy with spouses and kids that came to visit other inmates. Noah sat alone as he waited for you, but he quickly rose up when he saw you approaching. You greeted him with a quick hug and a peck on the lips and sat in front of him, putting the bag you were carrying on the bench beside you.

“How are you, my love?” you asked.

“Not bad. Better than most days now that you are here,” he said.

“I brought you some presents,” you said, taking the items out of the bag. “Here’s your sandwich,” you began, pushing it to him. He unwrapped it with an excited smile and began scarfing it down. “Slow down, honey, or it’s gonna hurt your stomach,” you told him.

“Sorry,” he said, chewing slower.

“I also brought you some extra underwear and socks,” you continued, putting the paper bag on the table.

“Nice!”

“The shampoo and deodorant you like…” you listed, taking them out of the bag too and placing them beside the underwear, “and a belated birthday present!” you announced, handing him the wrapped package.

“They let you bring that without opening it first?” he asked, skeptical.

“I told them it was a present, so they did me a favor” you told him, shrugging it off like it was nothing. You knew the schedule of the guard who had a soft spot for you and you fully took advantage of that, though you’d never tell that to Noah. “They ran it through the X-ray machine, with the rest of the stuff,” you assured him.

“No metal file or spoon hidden, then,” he joked.

“No, sorry,” you replied, chuckling as he finished unwrapping the book: it was a hardback copy of High Magick (A Guide to The Spiritual Practices That Saved My Life on Death Row), by Damien Echols. “Don’t take off the plastic just yet,” you whispered. He nodded. “I am sure you will find it a very interesting reading,” you added, in a normal tone.

“Thank you, baby,” he said, taking your hands and quickly kissing your knuckles.

You smiled at him and he smiled back at you, letting go of your hands before the guard could decide that it was too much physical contact and end the visit early.

“How’s it going with that newbie? Did he bother you again?” you asked, trying to make some small talk.

“Nah. It’s all good now, he learned his place,” he replied, finishing the sandwich. He let you clean his mouth with the paper napkin.

“Good.”

“I received your letter yesterday, by the way” he told you.

“They took their sweet time reading it, didn’t they?” you fumed.

“I’m sure the warden loves your prose, and the poems. I certainly do,” he said. “I especially loved the lines that said ‘My heart is a bird/ that every night takes flight/ to you and guards your sleep’, and ‘I dream of your hands around my waist, / your breath on my neck, / your heat inside mine, / and our hearts beating in sync’”.

“I wasn’t too inspired with the rhymes in that last one,” you said, grimacing.

As much as you didn’t feel any embarrassment for the words you wrote to Noah, you didn’t want them repeated to you. Creative writing was an outlet your therapist recommended, as were the dabbles in poetry, but you didn’t fancy yourself a poet. Noah was the poet and the musician, not you.

“By the way, do you need another notebook?” you asked.

You had given him a pretty notebook when he entered prison so he could annotate whatever he wanted, and you knew he had been using it as a sort of journal and to write his lyrics and compose his music. A month before the anniversary of his first year locked up, he had requested a new one. You had bought one with more pages that time. He was on notebook number three now.

“No, I still haven’t filled the last one. I will tell you when I need a new one, but thanks for asking,” he said, smiling. “How are you, baby? How are things at work?”

“I’m fine. Before I forget, I have a new manager now, a lady in her fifties - the old one was fired because Shelly reported him to HR for attempted grooming,” you explained. Shelly was your only underage coworker, a sixteen-year-old girl who was still in high-school. “Anyway, the new one is very nice, and upon learning about you, she told me she has a son in prison.”

“In here?” he asked.

“No, he’s in another facility. He committed tax evasion and had a money laundering scheme going on. He got mixed with the wrong crowd, apparently,” you informed him. “They don’t see each other that much, but she writes him letters every week. She told the whole team that my visitation days are sacred and that if anyone needs a change of schedule, to try anyone else, because I am not available,” you finished smiling.

“I already like her,” he said, containing a laugh.

“She also said you were very handsome ‘despite all that ink’”, you told him, marking the quotations in the air. “She’s kind of old-fashioned regarding tattoos.”

“Tell her I said thank you for the compliment,” he replied. “And that I don’t take offense to her not liking my tattoos.”

“Will do!”

“I have something for you,” he said, taking a square envelope from under his ass. “I recorded it with the boys. I want you to be the first to listen to it,” he said, as you took the CD out of the envelope. You smiled, looking at the title and all the signatures.

“I feel honored, honestly,” you said, immediately putting it in your purse. “I’ll listen to it tonight, though it might take me a while to write an in-depth review.”

“Don’t worry about that, we can wait. The boys send their regards, by the way,” he said.

“Tell them I said hi back. I’m so happy you made friends here! And Nick… well, I am not happy that he is in prison too, but… at least you already had a friend the day you arrived, you know?” you said.

“I was relieved to see a familiar face the first day, I’m not gonna lie,” Noah admitted.

“By the way, I spoke with the lawyer…” you began.

“No,” he snapped, cutting you off.

“But I would just spend two years, and your sentence would be reduced -” you began.

He grabbed your wrists.

“Look at me: we already talked about this, and I won’t let you spend a single day behind bars. I fired the gun, I take the blame,” he said, holding your gaze intently.

“But…” you tried to argue. While you recognized and were grateful for his sacrifice, you didn’t want him to spend so much time behind bars. You thought you were strong enough to endure two years if that meant he got to be free earlier. Why wouldn’t he let you do that for him? You loved him just as he loved you; why shouldn’t you sacrifice in return?

“No buts,” he said, putting a finger over your lips. “I heard what the guards do to the female inmates in prison and I won’t let you go through that to shave five years off my sentence,” he said, finally releasing your hands. “End of discussion.”

 “Okay. I love you so much, Noah!” you said after a pause, on the verge of tears.

 “I love you too, baby. Now, don’t cry! You know I hate to see that here,” he said, and you knew he was right: the crying was best reserved for when no one could see, because any sign of weakness on your part could reflect badly on him. You took a deep breath and smiled at him. “That’s better. Do you have an appointment with your therapist this week?”

“Yeah, this afternoon,” you nodded. You had taken notes to talk to your therapist about his response to your proposal, whatever his response would be, though you didn’t expect him to agree, honestly.

“Good. Tell her I enjoyed the books she recommended.”

“That one is also a recommendation from her,” you said, lightly tapping the Damien Echols book. “The extra material is all my idea, though,” you whispered. He arched an eyebrow, questioningly. “You’ll see.”

Not long after, you had to end the visit. With another quick hug and light peck on the lips, you said goodbye to him. On the way back home, you put the CD in the player of your car and listened to it. The lyrics were so beautiful and his voice sounded so clear, like he was beside you, that you had to pull over to the side of the road for a couple of minutes while you let the tears finally flow.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” a voice asked. You lifted your gaze to find a police officer standing by the side of your car. You rolled down the window and stopped the music. “Are you injured?”

“No, sir, I am fine. I just got emotional and… I needed a moment.”

“I see. What was that band, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh! That was Bad Omens; it’s my husband’s band. They’re on Spotify, I think.”

“They sound good, I’ll give them a listen. If you are better now, I suggest you go on your way,” he said.

“Yes, sir. Thank you for your concern.”

Every lawyer you ever spoke to always told you the same thing: if you’re ever stopped by a police officer, be polite and don’t let them know you have a spouse in prison, because they will look at you differently and there’s a chance they won’t be nice to you upon learning that fact.

You continued your way and arrived home in time to prepare a meal for yourself, feed the cat and go to your therapist appointment.

Meanwhile, Noah was in his cell, unwrapping the book from its plastic. He noticed an envelope taped to the back cover. He opened it to find several pictures. Eight of them were of you, recreating some pin-up posters; hot, but nothing that could be considered pornographic. The ninth, tenth and eleventh were more risqué, something that could be classified as artistic nudes, but the twelfth…

He took the picture number 12 in his hands, looking at it closely. It was a close up of your nude chest, focusing on the tattoo over your sternum. Your nipples were not in frame, but he knew your breasts far too well, so he was able to complete that image mentally.

He carefully picked up the other photographs and put them back in the envelope. He then taped this one to the metal frame of the bunk bed above him and slid a hand in his pants. His mind was already racing, conjuring the image of you naked beside him, kissing him and touching him with light fingers.

“This one’s for you, baby” he muttered, stroking his cock.

Not shortly after he was finished, Nick leaned into the cell.

“Dude, what are you doing? We’re waiting for you in the music room!” he said.

“What?”

“Did you forget we scheduled a rehearsal for today?” Nick asked, entering the cell.

“Yeah, sorry…”

“Were you reading?” Nick asked, seeing the book next to Noah. “Is it any good?” he wanted to know, picking it up.

“Give it back!”

But it was too late: Nick had already seen the envelope and was inspecting its content.

“Oh, I see! You weren’t reading, you were jerking off in her honor” he laughed. “To be fair, I also do it in her honor sometimes,” he joked.

“Not funny, bro! Not funny.” Noah replied, snatching the book from him. “It’s my wife you’re talking about.”

“Sorry. Is something wrong between you two?” Nick asked, suddenly serious.

“No. She tried to bring up the appeal, thinks she should take part of the blame,” he said. “I told her she can forget about it, and I hope this time she listens. I understand where she comes from, but I love her far too much to let her do it.”

“And she loves you far too much not to try to convince you,” Nick pointed out.

“I guess so…”

“She does. I mean, she risked flirting with the guy at the entrance to bring you this, didn’t she?” Nick said, pointing at the book.

“What do you mean?”

“Rumor says that if you don’t want something to be too closely inspected, you compliment the guard at the entrance. Works like a charm if you’re a pretty woman, or at least that’s what my cousin said,” Nick told him. “Those pictures? They would probably be considered porn and confiscated. She’s a criminal mastermind, dude.”

“Yeah, sure,” Noah said, amused, but his laughter quickly died on his lips, as the implications of what Nick just told him sank in: you had taken too many risks for him and his pleasure, more than he was comfortable with. He sighed; his beautiful, smart and reckless wife! What was he going to do with you? “You will get out before me. Would you keep an eye on her for me?”

“Sure, dude. She’s my friend too, you know?”

Noah knew you also corresponded with Nick and talked to him on the phone. Past benders aside, you two were close enough for Nick to call you a friend. Knowing his friend, Nick was likely the one to suggest the fiery red lingerie to her as a birthday surprise, and if his suspicion was correct, Noah was very grateful to him.

“Thank you.”

“No need to thank me yet. We’re still both in this shithole, so maybe we could go to the music room now and rehearse?”

“Sure.”

That Saturday, while you were watching a movie, your phone rang. It was a collect call from jail, which you quickly accepted.

“Hey, baby!” Noah’s voice greeted you through the line.

“Hi! How are you? Is everything okay?” you asked, straightening yourself up on the couch. He didn’t seem distraught, but he was in jail after all, you could never be sure.

“Everything is as okay as it can be. I just wanted to hear your voice,” he said. “Oh, I have begun with your present. You were right, it’s a very interesting reading.”

“Did you enjoy the extras?” you asked.

“Oh, yeah! Thank you, baby.”

“By the way, I almost finished analyzing the record,” you told him. “I have the last two songs left and the conclusions, and I will have a full review, song by song.”

“You know you don’t have to do that, right?” he said.

“I know, but I like doing it, and I like to think that my reviews are useful for you guys, you know? To have a listener’s perspective,” you replied.

“Of course they are useful!” he assured you. “I just say it’s not an obligation,” he clarified.

“I know, and it doesn’t feel like it,” you swore.

“Okay. I need to go now, but I love you. Sweet dreams, baby,” he said.

“Sweet dreams, my love! I love you too,” you replied, and he hung up.

The next conjugal visit couldn’t come fast enough.

[movingmusically]

Caught Feeling: A Table for Two - One Shot

Author’s Note:

I’m not sure if I’m totally happy with this one, but here you go.

Word Count: 3,706

Masterlist

The restaurant was one of those cosy, tucked-away spots that felt like a secret only a few people knew about. The lights were dim, the air filled with the aroma of rich food, and the low hum of quiet conversations created an intimate atmosphere that wrapped around us as soon as we walked in.

I couldn’t stop sneaking glances at Hank as we settled into the booth, the soft leather curving around us, forcing us to sit close. Tonight, he looked different—a bit more polished than usual, his typical laid-back style replaced with a fitted button-down shirt that hugged his shoulders just right, the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, showing off that casual confidence he wore so well. He looked incredible, and judging by the glances we were getting from a few nearby tables, I wasn’t the only one who noticed.

“Alright, who are you and what have you done with my Hank?” I teased, leaning forward on my elbows and giving him a playful look.

He rolled his eyes, though I could see a faint blush creeping up his neck. “Thought I’d make an effort for you tonight,” he replied, giving me a slow, appreciative look in return. “You don’t look so bad yourself, by the way.”

I smiled, feeling the warmth of his gaze as it lingered on me. I’d chosen a black dress that fit in all the right places, the fabric soft and silky against my skin, and I knew it was a step up from my usual casual style. I’d even added a bit of extra makeup, just enough to make my eyes pop, and from the way Hank’s gaze kept drifting over me, it seemed he approved.

“So, what’s the occasion?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light even as I felt a shiver of anticipation run down my spine.

He shrugged, giving me that lopsided grin I loved so much. “No occasion. Just wanted to treat you. Figured we could do with a night out that’s a little… different.”

“Different how?” I tilted my head, curious and already excited.

He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Different in the sense that I get to spoil you tonight. Relax, enjoy a nice dinner… and maybe see where the night takes us after that.”

The promise in his tone made my pulse quicken, and I found myself biting my lip to hide a smile. He was clearly setting the tone for a romantic night, but I had other plans. If he thought we were just here for a quiet dinner, he was in for a surprise.

As we looked over the menu, I let my hand rest on his forearm, tracing gentle circles with my fingers. “You really do clean up nicely,” I murmured, leaning in closer, my shoulder pressing against his.

“Yeah?” His gaze met mine, a flicker of curiosity mixed with amusement. “Glad you approve.”

“Oh, I more than approve,” I whispered, letting my fingers drift down from his forearm to his wrist, barely brushing his skin. “It’s almost… distracting.”

He raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Is that so?”

I didn’t answer, just gave him a slow, knowing smile as my hand shifted to rest on his thigh, just above his knee. It was innocent enough at first, just a light touch as if for balance, but I saw the slight shift in his expression, the flicker of awareness in his eyes.

“Looking forward to the food?” I asked, my fingers tracing small circles just above his knee, barely brushing the fabric of his trousers.

He cleared his throat, giving me a sidelong glance as he tried to keep his voice steady. “Yeah, I—uh, heard good things about this place.”

“Me too,” I replied, letting my hand inch a little higher, my fingers moving with slow, deliberate intent. “But I think I might be in the mood for something a little more… exciting.”

His gaze flicked down to my hand, then back up to meet my eyes. “Oh yeah?” he murmured, trying to sound casual, but I could see the tension building in his jaw.

I nodded, biting my lip as I gave his thigh a gentle squeeze before letting my hand drift higher.

He let out a shaky breath, his hand coming to rest over mine, trying to still my movements. But I could feel his pulse quicken beneath my touch, his fingers tightening over mine. “Y/N…” he warned softly, his voice low and full of tension.

“Yes?” I blinked up at him, feigning innocence.

He opened his mouth to reply, but just then, the waiter arrived with our drinks, forcing Hank to sit back and try to compose himself. He released my hand reluctantly, giving me a look that promised consequences later.

Just as my fingers inched a little further up his thigh, I could see Hank’s breathing deepen, his hand subtly tightening around his drink. Sensing his growing tension, I pulled my hand back, giving him a sweet, innocent smile that had him raising an eyebrow in barely veiled suspicion.

We quickly shifted our focus to the menu, exchanging glances and comments as we made our choices. We ordered, and as soon as the waiter left Hank relaxed back into his seat, looking at me with a mix of amusement and something darker in his gaze. “You’re enjoying yourself a little too much, aren’t you?”

I shrugged, leaning in close enough that he’d feel the heat of my breath. “What can I say? You did tell me to relax and enjoy the night,” I murmured, my lips brushing the edge of his ear.

He gave me a long, considering look, as if trying to decide just how much trouble I intended to be tonight. But before he could say anything more, the clinking of plates interrupted, and our waiter arrived with the starters, momentarily pulling our attention back to the table.

As we started eating, I picked up a bite-sized piece from my plate and held it up to his lips. “Here,” I said, my voice soft as I guided it towards him.

Hank raised an eyebrow but opened his mouth, letting me feed him. As I pulled my hand away, I let my fingers linger just a little, brushing against his lips. His eyes held mine, and for a moment, the air between us thickened, charged with something unspoken.

“Behave,” he whispered, his voice a mix of amusement and warning, though the smile on his lips told me he was enjoying every second. But I wasn’t going to make it that easy for him tonight. Where was the fun in that?

I leaned back, reaching for my wine glass with a little smirk. “I don’t know what you mean,” I replied innocently, letting my fingers drift under the table until they found his knee.

He shot me a knowing look but said nothing, focusing on his food as if he weren’t completely aware of the way my fingers were now tracing slow, lazy circles on his knee. I took my time, letting the conversation flow naturally, laughing and chatting as though I wasn’t slowly inching my hand a little higher every now and then.

“You keep that up, and we might not make it through dessert,” he whispered, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

I tilted my head, feigning innocence even as my fingers dared to edge closer. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as if to regain control, but I could see the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes darkened with each subtle movement of my hand. The waiter returned with our main courses, and as the plates were placed in front of us, I pulled my hand back, giving Hank a sweet, innocent smile that earned me an arched eyebrow and a look of barely contained amusement.

As soon as we were left alone again, we dug into our meals, exchanging glances and casual conversation. But I didn’t wait long before letting my hand drift back under the table, settling once more on his thigh. This time, Hank placed his hand over mine, as if to keep it in place—but his grip was loose, giving me just enough freedom to continue my gentle exploration.

As I edged higher, my fingertips grazed over the firmness building beneath the fabric of his trousers, and I felt him twitch beneath my touch. His breath hitched ever so slightly, but he quickly masked it, taking a sip of his drink, his grip tightening around the glass as though it could anchor him.

“Careful,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, a hint of warning beneath the amusement. But his hand didn’t stop me; if anything, it seemed to press mine down just a little more firmly against him, almost like he was encouraging me.

I let my fingers roam a bit further, tracing along the outline of his growing cock, feeling it harden under my touch. He shifted in his seat, clearing his throat as though trying to keep his cool, but the slight twitch under my hand betrayed him. It was intoxicating, knowing I was getting to him even in this public setting, pushing him to the edge while we sat mere feet away from other diners.

“Still enjoying dinner?” I whispered, my fingers pressing just a bit more firmly against his bulge, eliciting a barely audible groan from him.

He shot me a look, his eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and barely-contained desire. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he replied, his voice low, each word measured as though he was struggling to keep it steady. But I could tell from the way his cock twitched beneath my hand that he was right on the brink.

I leaned in close, letting my lips brush his ear as I whispered, “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

For a moment, he seemed to grapple with himself, torn between the need to stay composed and the growing desire that was making him shift restlessly in his seat. I gave him one last, teasing press against his hardness, feeling him pulse beneath my touch, before I finally withdrew my hand, taking a sip of my wine as though nothing had happened.

Hank’s gaze lingered on me, dark and intense, and I could see the promise in his eyes—a promise that whatever restraint he’d shown tonight wouldn’t last much longer. And the thought made me bite back a smile, my own anticipation growing for what was sure to come once we had a bit more privacy.

As soon as our main courses were done, I let my hand drift back to Hank’s thigh, resuming those slow, maddening circles I knew were driving him crazy. His whole body tensed, and he shot me a look, one part warning, the other pure, dark hunger.

He swallowed, shifting slightly in his seat as if that would somehow help him regain control. “Y/N…” he began, his voice low and strained. But there was no real conviction behind it, and I knew he was close to breaking.

“Hmm?” I murmured, keeping my face perfectly innocent as my hand moved with deliberate, teasing slowness over his thigh, edging higher until I was more than just brushing against his now rock-hard cock. My fingers pressed firmly, tracing his length in a way that left no room for subtlety. I could feel the heat radiating through his trousers, the hard, undeniable evidence of just how much he wanted me.

“Something wrong?” I asked, my tone light, almost playful, as my hand lingered, pressing slightly, feeling him throb under my touch.

A muscle in his jaw ticked, and his hand shot to mine, gripping it tightly, but instead of stopping me, his fingers seemed to hold me in place, as if torn between restraint and surrender. His eyes blazed with a mix of frustration and barely controlled desire, flicking down to my hand and then back to my face, his breaths shallow. He was right on the edge, his control fraying, and the thrill of knowing I could unravel him this way sent a shiver through me.

Finally, with a shaky exhale, he dropped his napkin onto the table. “That’s it,” he muttered, his voice so low only I could hear, and in one smooth movement, he got up, pulling me with him. His hand wrapped firmly around mine as he led us out, leaving the table without a glance back.

“Hank,” I whispered, a laugh escaping as I tried to keep up with his pace. “The bill—”

“Taken care of,” he replied through gritted teeth, not slowing down as we made our way to the exit. “But you… we’re not done.”

Once outside, he wasted no time flagging down a cab, barely containing himself as he held the door open for me. The tension between us was electric, thickening the air around us as he slid into the cab, his hand resting possessively on my thigh, his grip firm as if he couldn’t bear even the smallest distance.

As we settled in the back seat, he kept himself composed, but his hand stayed on my leg, his thumb brushing slow, torturous circles that only heightened the anticipation humming between us. Every so often, he’d shoot me a look—a mix of impatience and something darker, a promise of what was to come once we were finally alone.

The cab ride felt endless, the city lights blurring past as he kept his hand on my thigh, fingers tightening every time I shifted closer, teasing him just a little more. By the time we pulled up outside my place, his restraint was practically hanging by a thread. He handed the driver cash without a word, his gaze locked on me, smouldering with barely veiled intent as we hurried up to my door.

I unlocked the door, stepping into the centre of the room, turning to face him as he closed the door with a quiet click, the finality of it sending a thrill through me. I didn’t have to wait long; he was on me in an instant, striding over and closing the distance with a dark, hungry look in his eyes.

Without a word, he reached for me, fingers sliding into my hair and giving it a firm, grounding tug that tilted my head back, exposing my neck to him. His mouth was there in an instant, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along my skin, each one leaving a trail of heat.

His free hand slipped up, wrapping gently around my throat, thumb resting just beneath my jaw, keeping my gaze locked with his. The weight of his touch sent a rush of heat through me, his fingers firm but careful, a perfect blend of dominance and restraint. His other hand stayed buried in my hair, holding me close as his lips crashed against mine in a kiss that was raw, intense, and completely consuming.

I gasped against his mouth, the sensation overwhelming, and he took advantage, deepening the kiss, leaving me breathless. My fingers found the waistband of his trousers, fumbling slightly in my eagerness as I reached for the zip, tugging it down. I slipped my hand inside, through the fly, and felt him shudder as I closed my fingers around him, his cock hard and hot in my hand. The quiet groan that escaped him only spurred me on, my thumb brushing along his length as I felt him pulse against my touch.

A low growl escaped his throat, and he pulled back just enough to look at me, eyes dark with a mixture of frustration and need. His hand moved from my neck to the buttons on my dress, his fingers curling around the fabric. In one swift, determined motion, he yanked, popping the buttons open, the sound of each one tearing free echoing in the silence of the room.

The fabric parted, falling open from my chest down to my waist, exposing the bare curves beneath, my skin flushed under his heated gaze. His eyes dropped, and his breathing grew heavier as he took in the sight of me, a fierce hunger etched across his face, his restraint unraveling moment by moment.

“Beautiful,” he muttered, his voice rough with want, his thumb grazing the base of my throat, feeling the rapid beat of my pulse beneath his touch. His eyes flicked back up to mine, and then he was on me again, kissing me with a fervour that was almost bruising, his hand sliding up to cup my jaw, holding me steady as if to keep me exactly where he wanted.

With a low growl, he deepened the kiss, his mouth claiming mine in a way that left no space between us, his hand moving down from my jaw to slide over my collarbone, fingers pressing firmly as he traced the edge of the open dress. I felt his other hand slip around to my waist, gripping me tightly, pulling me flush against him as his body pressed me backwards, forcing me to stumble slightly in my heels until I felt the cool edge of the countertop behind me.

I gasped, breaking the kiss for a moment, but his lips found my neck instantly, biting and sucking in a way that sent sparks straight down my spine. His hands roamed over my bare skin, fingers digging into my hips, guiding me until I was perched on the edge of the countertop, the cool surface a sharp contrast against the heat between us.

He didn’t waste a second, his hand sliding up my thigh, rough and insistent, moving higher until his fingers found the fabric of my underwear. His breath was ragged against my skin, and his hand paused only for a moment before he yanked them aside, his touch sending a shockwave through me as he explored my dripping cunt with rough precision, leaving me gasping.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he muttered against my neck, his voice rough with need, his words heavy with a raw, possessive edge that sent a shiver down my spine. He didn’t wait for a response, just pulled back enough to meet my gaze, his eyes dark and intense, filled with an unrestrained hunger. His thumb brushed over my clit, slow and deliberate, teasing, relentless.

I gasped as he slid his other hand lower, guiding his cock to press against me, the heat and hardness of him leaving no space between us. His mouth claimed mine again, swallowing my moan as he thrust forward, filling me completely in a single, powerful motion that stole my breath. My hands flew to his shoulders, fingers digging in as he set a hard, unrelenting rhythm, each thrust deep and rough, fuelled by a barely contained intensity.

Every movement sent a wave of heat spiralling through me, the pace building faster as he held me tight, his grip firm and unyielding. His mouth never left mine, the kiss as desperate and hungry as his movements, his breath hot against my lips. The taste of him, the feel of him moving inside me, was dizzying, overwhelming, as he pushed us both closer to the edge, the raw urgency between us leaving no room for restraint.

The intensity between us escalated, his pace quickening as I clung to him, both of us lost in the overwhelming need that had been building all night. Every movement drove us closer, each sensation heightened, until finally, I felt him tense, a low groan escaping his lips. He pulled back slightly, his breathing ragged as he held me tight, his eyes meeting mine with a mix of raw desire and hesitation.

“Sweetheart…” he murmured, his voice thick with urgency. “Can I… come on you?”

The request sent a thrill through me, and I met his gaze, nodding. “Yes,” I whispered, a smile tugging at my lips. He pulled out, barely keeping control as I took over, wrapping my hand around him with purpose.

I kept my strokes steady, watching his jaw clench, his breath hitching with every movement. His eyes stayed locked on mine, dark and full of anticipation as I quickened my pace, guiding him right to the edge.

With a groan, he finally let go, his release spilling over my stomach in warm, rhythmic pulses. He shuddered, his breathing ragged, eyes softening as he looked at me, satisfaction mingling with a deeper warmth in the shared moment.

After a beat, he pulled away slightly, reaching for a nearby dish towel, his movements gentle as he carefully wiped me clean, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

“Sorry about the mess,” he murmured, a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my lips.

I smiled, my fingers tracing light patterns along his back. “Nothing to apologise for,” I whispered, still catching my breath, feeling the pleasant ache of the intensity we’d shared.

He stayed close, brushing his thumb gently over my cheek, his gaze lingering on me with a warmth that felt almost tender in the aftermath of everything we’d shared. The silence between us was comfortable, a quiet moment filled with unspoken words and lingering glances, our breaths slowly steadying as the world around us softened.

Eventually, he straightened, a hint of that familiar grin returning to his face as he reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “You know,” he murmured, his voice low, “I think I owe you a proper dessert after that.”

I laughed softly, rolling my eyes. “Oh, is that so?”

He smirked, his fingers tracing a line down my arm before intertwining with mine. “Absolutely. But first…” He gave my hand a squeeze, a playful spark in his eyes. “Maybe we should start with round two.”

I felt my cheeks heat up as he leaned in, brushing his lips over mine in a kiss that was somehow softer, yet just as filled with promise. And as he pulled me closer, I couldn’t help but smile, already lost in the anticipation of what the night still held.

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

When Night Comes: Elliott x Werewolf!Reader

It changes pov’s, it’s pretty obvious where

You cursed softly under your breath as you felt the pounding behind your eyes drum up once more, every time the waves of drumming came back it seemed to only get worse and worse as time passed. You had to pause on the trail once more leading into town, balancing the wooden crate off of your hip and onto the shabby wooden fencing once more, the old wood creaking under the weight from what laid inside of the crate. Glass clinked, parchment ruffled, you let out a soft groan. You remembered Robin promised Mayor Lewis she would fix up a lot of the fencing before winter came, she must have just not gotten to here yet.

For a brief second, you glanced behind you towards the winding road back to your farm and wondered if you had enough time to turn around and grab your horse. You instead squeezed your eyes shut and turned to face towards town, the end of the road circled with the oak and maple trees reddened with leaves changing colors. The trotting alone of horse hooves along stone would only make the headaches worse, and besides, you were already almost there anyways.

You could see people in the distance, both familiar and strange walking around. The smells of delicious food wafted through the air and tickled your nose to the point where you found yourself about to start drooling. You could hear laughter and music and footsteps on the smooth town roads.

‘Is it even safe for me to go?’ the brief thought shot right through you, sending icy chills down your spine.

You glanced down at your watch to see it was already past two o'clock. You were late. You could turn around now and not go, tell everyone who asks tomorrow you simply weren’t feeling well. But what if they come to check on you? Especially tonight? Just the thought made the bile in your stomach churn.

“It’s only until 3:30, he’ll judge it all quickly, I’ll collect what I won and come home,” you promised to yourself.

The painful drumming slowed to a stop and you were able to fully keep your eyes open once more. You hoisted the wooden crate off of the rotting fence and continued down the path until you had finally stepped out from the cover of autumn trees and into view of everyone.

'If anyone asks, I’m not feeling well,’ you reminded yourself, 'they should leave me alone after that.’

Your feet wandered into familiar directions, your body weaving through people as it did back in Zuzu, your eyes kept forward and mouth now pursed into a small, forced smile as you nodded in greetings to the townsfolk until you had gotten to the usual posts.

Year after year you set up in the same spot between Pierre on the left of you and Marnie and Willy to the right, in a little cupboard from once upon a time when your grandfather owned the farm. They had even unscrewed the little brass name plaque and replaced it with a newer, golden one with your name etched in black writing done by Robin or Leah no doubt. The spruce wood is familiar with the nine slots dusted and patched from years of use with a little pocket underneath it for you to tuck your crate under. The other three had just finished setting up their displays. Fruits, cheeses and fish are all stacked and bundled neatly into their nine cubes waiting to be judged by the Mayor in just an hour.

Marnie was polishing the front of the display with an old rag when she turned to greet you only to pause.

“(Y/n) dear, are you alright?” she asked softly, not wanting to draw attention.

That was one thing you appreciated about that household, they all kept quiet and to their own things even though you could smell exactly what they do all over them. Shane reeking of alcohol and vomit and Marnie always smelling of Mayor Lewis’ cologne despite how much you can tell she tries to scrub the scent off.

You set your crate on top of the front of your display, balancing it with your front as you reached to rub your flaming temples.

“I’m not feeling good is all,” you hummed. “I think I’m coming down with the flu.”

You felt a pull at your throat. You hated lying to the townspeople, they were all (save for some with their moments) relatively nice to you.

“I’d talk to Harvey if I were you. He’ll be able to help you. I think he’s getting something to eat right now if you wanna go see him.”

“I’m not gonna bother him, Marnie, it’s a festival. He needs the day off. We all do,” you stated as you started to divide your supplies into their respective holes.

Marnie could only nod, not wanting to upset you in any way and had walked off. You were unaware of everyone else around you, doing your best to tune as much as you could out as it was all starting to become too much. The sounds of the fair going on around you raked at your ears like nails on a chalkboard. The smells of food and the fish sitting just a few feet away from you made you nauseous yet absolutely starving and salivating, craving the feeling of tearing into something. The light around you had become too much, nearly blinding you as something slipped through your fingertips and-

A quick hand snatched the falling wine bottle out of the air, saving your prized wine from shattering all over the cobble. You shot up, nearly jumping out of your skin as your heart suddenly beat loudly in your ears. The smell of sea salt and pomegranates filled your nose suddenly, the familiar scents putting your raging heart at ease. You turned to catch a glimpse of worried emerald eyes looking back into yours, auburn eyebrows nearly knit together in worry.

“Darling? Are you alright?”

You were riddled with anxiety. You put up a brave front at first, you didn’t look bothered at all by the busy fair going on around you. Slowly, however, that front started to chip and fall. You kept looking at your watch, you paced around your display, fiddled and wiped the wood and products, anything to take your mind off time. It was 3:30 and there was no sign of the mayor anywhere.

'It’s okay. There’s probably a hiccup somewhere, he’ll be here soon.’

Your mind was starting to fill with static worry, your eyes darted around the town square. You occasionally caught glimpses of Elliott looking at you with worry, but you wouldn’t let him know anything.

He was sweet enough to try to comfort you, even going to his cabin to retrieve medicine for colds for you to take so you wouldn’t have to go back to the farmhouse. He would have stayed by your side but was called away by Willy to help him with a few things in some of the tents that the tall author could handle.

You looked back down to your watch. 4:00. The autumn sky was starting to run warm. The sun was starting to hide behind clouds. Pierre and Marnie didn’t seem worried about the Mayor suddenly not being around, but you were in shambles on the inside.

4:30 and the tourists were starting to head back to the bus stop t return to Zuzu and the other cities surrounding the valley. The wind had shifted and now brought the smell of Gus’ food southward, the smells littering the grill stirred up a primal hunger deep inside. You leaned back against the display and dug your nails into the hard spruce, the wood splintering a bit.

5:00 and Lewis finally showed his head alongside the well-known purple hat of the short and stout Governor trailing behind the Mayor. They were talking about money, typically what they always seem to talk about when the Governer is in the valley. You looked anxiously to the sky, the sun had started to dip below the tallest trees in the woods surrounding the valley, the sky a painting of reds and oranges, the west starting to bleed the lightest of purples and blues. You felt it starting to stir inside of you.

“Sorry I’m late everyone! The Governor and I had a lot to catch up about, but I think it’s time for the annual judging to begin!” Lewis exclaimed to the remaining tourists and townspeople.

Some had already started to file into the saloon for Gus’ leftovers, the rest crowded around the four stands. You felt like you were slowly being caged, eyes all on you. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your eyes scanned the crowd and eventually landed on Elliott who looked at you with a worry-painted face. It was obvious to him something was wrong and steadily getting worse. Yoba, you hoped he didn’t try to follow you home and spend the night.

You didn’t even notice Mayor Lewis and the Governer pass by you, inspecting your items and then moving on to Marnie and then Willy. You only snapped back into reality when you were handed the envelope stamped with a big gold '1’ on it full of star tokens as the crowd started to disperse.

“Congratulations to our local farmer, (Y/n)!” Lewis beamed.

You thanked the Mayor and turned to your display, hands planting on the sides as you were forced to take a deep breath of the chilling autumn air. You glanced at your watch, 5:30 the hands told you. It would take a while to get back with everyone now crowding the bus stop even more if you didn’t leave now.

There was a gnawing at the back of your neck, you were starting to sweat in the cold air. The sky was turning dark.

You needed to leave.

You pushed yourself away from the display and hurried across the town square towards the little road that lead to your farm. You knew your items would end up in the lost and found or someone would bring them by your house, but you could not care at this point as your steps started to falter the faster you marched back home.

You had to shove your way through the crowd waiting for the bus to Grampleton, you could barely throw an apology behind you however as your eyes became locked on the gate to your farm. You yanked it open and slammed it closed behind you, your feet carrying you to your front door.

You fumbled in your pockets for the keys, catching a glimpse at your watch. 6:00 and the sun had set, casting the valley in darkness.

“Come on, come on,” you whimpered.

You had finally pulled the keys out from your pocket and jammed the house key in when you felt your hand start to pop and crackle. A pained cry left your lips as you pressed yourself into the door, nearly falling over when you had somehow gotten the door open.

'Why is it happening so early? Why now?’

Elliott managed to balance the heavy crate with one hand as he unlocked the farm gate with the other. He walked the path he walked nearly every week, the familiar dirt path turned to a hand-made stone path he walked on so many times he was shocked there were no worn-in footprints on them.

The farm was doing lovely from what he could see of it. It was too dark to see far but the full moon above him provided enough light to show crops growing nicely in neat rows.

Elliott hauled the heavy crate with him towards the farmhouse, the author wondering how you were able to lift and carry it so naturally the past few fairs with the heavy contents inside. It was a good thing he spotted the items left at the display when he did before anyone could get at the expensive items you display.

You were sick, you looked exhausted all day, you had just left everything there by accident it seemed. It was no bother to him to bring it all back to your home, he would even see about staying awhile to make sure you’re really doing better, maybe even spending the night since it was late.

It was when he got to your porch did something feel wrong.

But something was wrong.

The front door was left open a crack, the light from the porch filtered barely into the pitch-black farmhouse. Had you forgotten to close it? Were you even in there?

It felt wrong to him to enter like this but the worry chewing at his gut forced him to step forward, opening the door with a polished dress shoe.

It looked as if you weren’t home. No lights on, no lit fireplace, it was cold and it felt empty.

“(Y/n)? Dear, are you home?” Elliott called out into the house. Instead of your voice, he was met with the faint cry of your dog from your bedroom. Elliott sat the crate down by the door hurried to the room fearing the worst only to see the dog hiding under the bed. “What’s the matter?” Elliott crouched down and held out his hand for the dog to come to him but the poor thing was too scared to budge. “What has you so shaken?”

A loud thud suddenly radiated from below him, startling both he and the dog. Were you downstairs in the cellar?

As Elliott turned on his heel and started for the kitchen the dog had let out a yelp and scurried out from under the bed, biting down on the cuff of Elliott’s pant leg and tried to pull him back and away from the cellar doors in the kitchen.

“What’s gotten into you?” the author managed to tug the pant leg out of the dog’s mouth. Another loud bang sounded out from below, sending the poor dog to scurry off somewhere in the dark house. A low moan caught Elliott’s attention, his heart suddenly pounding in his ears. “(Y/n)!” he called.

Elliott threw open the cellar doors and hurried down the first few steps only to stop halfway down. The cellar lights were on, illuminating the mess that was at the bottom of the stairs. Your jacket from earlier laid at the bottom of the stairs, torn slightly at the sleeves soaking in a dark liquid. A cask nearby had broken, wood splintered and aging wine leaking from the open cracks.

Dread slowly overtook Elliott, casting a blanket of icy fear over him.

Where were you? Were you hurt?

Another moan echoed through the cellar, coming from the back of the stoney basement. A big black door sat in the far corner, closed shut, but he could see a shadow moving from the cracks underneath the door.

Elliott stepped over the mess and trekked carefully towards the door, unsure of what to do or say. As he neared the door he swore he could hear growling and whimpering from behind it, and there was a faint smell of blood tinging the air.

Fearing the worst, Elliott grabbed the cold handle and managed to open the door just a crack to only have it slammed shut in his grasp. He was startled at what he saw; A giant clawed hand covered in… fur?

There was snuffling at the door, growling, panting like a dog before it cried out in pain and stepped away from the door. He heard the thing drop to the ground, sickening cracks and pops making Elliott shiver.

Was that you? He knew of the mysterious and magical things around the valley, especially when you had shown him some things around your farm one night.

Elliott’s hand gently pushed the door open once more just a bit for him to peer in.

“Darling?” he called softly.

He saw deep marks in the stone, scraps of what he guessed to be clothing littered the floor. He knew it was possibly dangerous, but it was you, he wasn’t going to leave until he knew what was wrong.

“Darl-”

The large clawed hand snatched at the open door and threw it fully open, a big and hulking form filled up the doorway. Elliott stumbled back, eyes wide with worry as the monster somehow managed to squeeze out from the doorway and into the cellar. It was taller than him, having to hunch just a bit to keep its head from hitting the ceiling.

A werewolf stood right before him, baring its sharp fangs and claws shining in the pale cellar lights.

Elliott knew too, he didn’t need any more clues.

Fur the same shade as your hair, eyes all too human despite glowing supernaturally. But the golden ticket was the locket he had given you was fastened around the werewolf’s neck.

Hackles raised, you stalked towards him on wolf-like legs. Every step you took forward, Elliott took three back. Saliva dripped from your muzzle, eyes trained on him like he was prey; He was.

As Elliott went to step backwards again, the heel of his dress shoe had caught a higher stone in the floor, the author fell backwards against the floor.

That’s when you struck.

You had caged him between your large and furry body and the floor, clawed hands digging into the stone beside his head. Your breath was hot and rancid as you snarled in his face, your pupils were only little holes in the sea of glow.

Is this how he ends? At the hands of a werewolf? Of his lover when they’re in this state? He always thought it would be more poetic…

You raised a clawed hand as the other pressed into his chest, keeping him steady.

“Please, darling, it’s me,” Elliott started to plead. He grabbed onto the hand keeping him pinned and tried to move but you didn’t budge. “Dearest, please.” He was starting to get desperate. He just had to come down here, he just had to come here in the first place! Why didn’t he just bring the crate back to his house and bring it over in the morning? Your claws were long and black, curved and sharp and shiny in the light. Your arm kept coiling back until it stopped, hand raised and ready to strike. And as it came slashing down, Elliott yelled out “(Y/N)!”

[pygmi-says-hi]

just wanted to pop in and say that I appreciate the tips you gave on flow. You answered what I needed and the tips are very helpful to me, thank you!

I'm a bit curious though—judging by your other posts, your writing seems so very intentional down to the very words used (I mean, as it should be) but are you typically thinking about all this stuff as you're writing down a first draft? Or do you just kind of word-vomit just to get all the story down first and then you consider all the technicalities when you're editing? I guess this has just turned into a 'what's your process' kind of question haha

oh hi anon! thanks for coming back!

this is gonna be the most disappointing answer ever because my process is all over the place. it depends on what I'm writing, the length, how invested I am in it....

if it's something academic.

I outline the most. I have so many sheets of notes and half-written papers before I even begin the actual rough draft. I write in just the sources, then all the connecting commentary, then I mix it up, I do a bulleted summary and then I start the draft.

If it's multi-chaptered.

I always like to have some kind of list or outline when I start. Just a general collection of plot points and only minor elaboration in case I get lost. That way I have something to stand on if I feel lost.

Big projects sometimes are hard on my confidence so I like to go scene by scene, chapter by chapter, and then the whole story. Knowing the ins and outs of my plot before I start improves my motivation and confidence with sentence choice.

It usually ends up being a word vomit initially, but as I write, I get warmed up and really start looking for the right stuff. I personally don't find the 'write whatever even if it's all messed up' advice to be helpful, because if I lean too hard into that it gets so messy I end up losing the plot.

It's a tricky balance for me, because if I get too caught up in the details before I even start, I get into my own head and lose the motivation because of all of the info. A loose structure is best.

if it's something short.

garbage. hot steaming garbage, honey. Just straight from the can, all over the page. I do not plan out one-shots or drabbles. Usually I was inspired based on a random song or picture and I go off vibes. After a moment I find a groove and go with it, but it is not uncommon for me to write and rewrite like a dozen times.

if it's something I have no idea how to do.

I have written plots that fizzle out halfway through before and at that point all I want is to go off grid from irritation. I've been a part of research papers and anthology collections that are perhaps the most confusing projects on the planet. and that's fine but I hate it actually. It kills the vibe so hard.

In these cases I just stick to what I know and go in baby steps. Taking huge bites to start gives me a writing tummy ache. I'll write a paragraph, edit it till it's polished, and move on.

I do editing phases.

Initially I get all of the typos and grammatical errors out of the way. this is when I use grammarly or something like that. it's so hard to even focus on the plot when glaring errors are in the way.

Then I go over sequencing. this is when I do not use editing software. AI does not know what this is supposed to sound like, I do.

** part of understanding how to write critically is knowing how to edit. I usually discourage using software for personal/creative writing because AI is a developing art and cannot understand abstract fiction. work those editing muscles!!!

anyway, that editing phase is for comprehension. does the sequence of events make sense? does it match up with the plot map and if not, is the deviation still comprehensible and interesting? This is when I move around dialogue and do most of my chunk deletion.

The last editing stage is flow and artsy stuff. Any interesting metaphors or text editing to help with the vibe; the finishing touches. I usually do this two or three times.

hope this helps!

xox

[emptyheadwriting]

The Last Heir Part 11-Wednesday Addams x Reader

Word Count-2.4K

Warnings-N/A

--

It wasn’t too long after Ms.Thornhill left the room that you and Wednesday were attempting to go over plans on how to confirm that the woman in a question was indeed who you were accusing her of being. “You can’t remember anything other than her red boots?” Wednesday pushed as she sat at her desk, a grimace on her face as she listened to you pace back and forth behind her. “Nothing that is any more help” you groaned, it was frustrating just how little you could pull from your mind about that night.

Something about near death experiences seem to make you forget what happened before them. All you could remember was the way your muscles ached, the feeling of teeth sinking into your sides, and the weightlessness of being slung into a tree.

You dragged your hand down your face before you sat down next to the blanket on the floor that would serve as your bed, as it made the most sense to put Uncle Fester in your makeshift room, no one ever really came to check on you, “She-wolf, just how dog like are you?” You called as an idea popped into your head, wolves were hunters after all.

Enid sat up in her bed and threw a stuffed animal at you, frowning at how easily you caught it and the way you looked at her like you were dead serious, “you heard my mom and me, I still can’t shift Y/N, but thank you for reminding me” she said with a slight frown. “And you should remember that I threatened to kill her for that” you said with a shrug before continuing, “I mean more, if you smelled something, could you track it?” You asked, the sound of a chair scrapping against the floor behind you made you turn and cock an eyebrow at the way Wednesday had suddenly tuned back into the conversation. “I’m not sure, I could try” Enid says nervously, fingers toying with her hair.

You shoot up from your sitting position, “do you have a blindfold Wednesday?” You ask, looking over your shoulder. The gothic girl simply shoots Thing a look, and the dismembered hand scurries off into the closet, dragging along a black cloth with him upon his return. “Thank you” you say curtly as you grab it from him, you wrap it around Enid’s eyes, “I’m going to have you smell something and then hide it, a test if you will” you explained before taking a few steps back, and tearing off a piece of your shirt, holding it up to her nose.

A few moments passed of some rather heavy sniffing before the blonde nodded her head softly, “I’m ready”. At that you walked away slowly, looking around the room to think of where to hide it, turning to Wednesday for help. “There” she says bluntly while she gestures to Enid’s nightstand that was littered with small bottles of perfumes and nail polish. You nod and walk over, sliding the torn cloth under some magazines.

“Go ahead she-wolf, find it”.You walk over to Wednesday and the two of you watch in amusement as Enid stands from her bed, head tilted up and constantly smelling the empty air. “I can feel you two judging me” she calls out as she walks closer to the nightstand, “but…” she trails off as she crouched down, pressing her nose into the pile of magazines before her hand shoots out under them and pulls out the piece of your shirt, “who’s judging now?” She laughs as she waves the object in the air after removing her blindfold.

“Still us” Wednesday says quietly making the blonde girl pout and look towards you for approval, “excellent job” you offer as she walks over and hands you the piece of cloth. You mindlessly place it on Wednesday desk, “now if we can get something of hers and get you to smell it and the music box we can get confirmation” you explain before you walk back to the middle of the room, a loud yawn leaving your lips as you lay down.

—

You woke up to Wednesday standing over you, her boot digging into your side, and judging by the way you could not hear the morning birds or see sun, it was much too early for your tastes. You grumbled incoherent words as you sat up and rubbed the sleep from your eyes, “you are ancient not old, get up” Wednesday instructed sourly as she took a step back to give you space.

Her dark eyes watched you steadily, glazing over the way you stood and stretched, your muscles pulling taut as you twisted the sleep out of your body, a beautiful mix of strength and elegance, a perfect way to describe your very existence she thought to herself. “Is there a reason for you to wake me up?” You ask softly as to not wake up Enid who was still sound asleep across the room. “We have work to do” She says blatantly as she starts to walk out to the room with you closely in tow.

The two of you walked together through the empty halls silently until you reached soft grass under your feet. “where are we going?” You asked finally, curiosity getting the better of you. “Botany class, why wait when we can find out if Ms.Thornhill is behind the Hyde or not right now” she shrugs with a nod of her head towards the greenhouse that was growing ever closer.You watched as Wednesday kneeled down, pulling a small case out of her pocket, and as she pulled down on the handle to start picking the lock, it clicked open softly.

The two of you shared a look as you gently pushed the door open just wide enough to shimmy through, a dim glow illuminating the room as you both crouched behind a planter box. The sound of liquid bubbling was floating through the air. Wednesday peaked over the edge of the box, doing her best to catch a glance at whoever was already in the room, the thick plants acting as a barrier, she could only see brief scenes of red hair through their leaves.

You snuck over to a desk, peering over its wooden top you frowned at the sight of Ms.Thornhill standing over a few glass bottles that were hanging over open flames. This threw a wrench into your plans, how were you meant to get anything that would carry her smell now. Wednesday joined your side silently and leaned into your ear, “doesn’t look like someone taking care of their garden” she whispered before taking another peek over the edge of the table. Dark eyes squeezing together as she recognized the blue liquid being sorted into vials.

Wednesday opened her bag and watched as Thing crawled out, “get something that will smell like her, be careful, and meet us back at the dorm” she instructed quietly, the dismembered hand bowed down before scurrying away.

—

The two of you made your way back into the dorm just as the first light of day was filtering through the large window. “she was making poison then?” You asked as you laid on her bed after you had listened to her explaining what she had gathered from your outing. “Yes, with deadly nightshade” she concluded with a annoyed huff, what was going to be the next move now, wait for Thing to come back and make Enid smell whatever he brought back in hopes that it matched the smell off of the music box, “if it does not match, we will have to do something about her either way” she adds on.

You hum in agreement before the two of you fall into a comfortable silence, only soft breathing filling the air. After a few more moments of quiet, you perked up at the sound of soft scuffling outside the door. Wednesday stood from her desk and strode over to the door, swinging it open slightly before she gasped, you shot out of the bed to join her, eyes widening at the way Thing seemed to be growing weaker with each drag of his fingers across the floor, the grip he held on a small woolen glove loosening until he drop it and curled into himself. Wednesday called his name desperately as she scooped him off of the ground, barging into your room without sparing you a glance. You could hear her pleading to her Uncle behind your door as you went to grab the glove, quickly running to place it on Wednesday’s desk before you rushed to your room, watching as the two Addams stood over the hand, lighting streaming from the elder as Wednesday watched tearfully.

“Please Thing, you can not die, I shouldn’t have left you there by yourself” she pleaded her hands gripping onto the counter tightly. You approached the desk cautiously, not sure of what to do, you had never seen the hand injured, and your usual method of healing were consuming something that you had already run out of, not like Thing could eat it anyways. “will he be okay?” You asked as you looked at Uncle Fester expectantly.

“I’m not sure girls, it doesn’t look so good” he says sadly as he stops the stream of lightning pouring from his hands. “You must do something” Wednesday begged as she stared at Thing, tears starting to fall from her eyes. You watch powerlessly as she grabs the dismembered hand, shaking him roughly, “Thing I know you can hear me, if you die, not only will you most likely be sentenced to punishment in the afterlife, I will find you and kill you all over again” she said before pushing him back towards her Uncle Fester, “again, do it again” she ordered harshly.

The streams of lightning resumed, you watched as electricity danced over the paling skin, nerves making the muscles twitch slightly, it felt as if the moments grew longer with each passing second. All eyes were focused on the hand, six orbs filled with desperation as hope spilled away defeatedly, you felt hands grasping at your shirt impatiently, you looked down to see Wednesday’s knuckles turning white buried in your shirt, and at that moment a gasp left her lips as Thing turned himself over weakly.

“For a minute we thought you had picked your last lock buddy” Uncle Fester said gleefully watching as the hand stood wearily, “she will pay for this Thing, I promise, it will be slow, and it will be excruciatingly painful” Wednesday says tearfully, lifting one hand off of you and linking her pinky with his in a promise, the other still gripping you tightly like you were the one about to leave her.

Wednesday wiped away her tears with her palm roughly, “thank you Uncle Fester”. The older man smiled widely, “of course, consider it a parting gift for my favorite relative” he says with a zany laugh. “make sure to tell Pugsley, it will give him a complex” she says seriously, the two share a knowing look before you feel her grip loosen from your shirt, walking closer to her uncle, “I will be seeing you at your arraignment or the next family reunion” she states plainly before tensing as he wraps her in a hug, “of course, let’s see what comes first” he jests before they separate and he turns to you.

“I assume you will be attending anything that she does” he offers with an awkward laugh, before the wide smile fades into a smaller polite one. “I know I may have pushed too many of your buttons, but I hope to one day to swap stories with you, you are very intriguing” he says honestly as he holds out a hand. You grip his hand strongly, “Friendship begin with being uncomfortable, one day I will tell you tales you won’t believe” you agree with a small smile of your own, despite his nature originally being off putting to you, the truth of his character was now clearer than ever.

“I will watch over our patient for the rest of the day, I’m sure the two of you have some revenge to serve” he says after letting go of your hand, ushering the two of you out of the room and into the hallways where doors were starting to open and people were lazily stumbling their way out of their rooms. You shielded Wednesday from their sleep riddled eyes as the two of you made your way back to her dorm.

Enid was just stretching awake in her bed when she heard the door swing open violently, she jumped in shock, about to voice a complaint before she noticed the intense look in Wednesday’s eyes as the smaller girl marched over to her desk, gripping the glove tightly as she brought it over to the werewolf, her boots thundering on the wooden floors. “Do your part” she ordered as she held it out expectantly.

Enid nodded, taking the glove into her grip and leaning in to sniff at it, it smelled familiar, earthy and fresh, like a garden yet to fully bloom, only faint hints of flowery scents within the wool. “Smells familiar, definitely smelled it before” she says before waiting for you to make your way over, music box in hand.

You opened the box wordlessly and held it out for her. It was almost instantly that she nodded her head at the familiar scent, “yeah that’s the same for sure” she said sourly as she turned her face away from it. Something about just knowing that the scent belonged to the person behind all these killings and the almost killing of herself and her friends, turned the smell from near pleasant to gut turningly rotten.

“We end this tonight then” Wednesday seethed before stomping back towards her side of the room, disappearing into the closet, “do not leave this room, she attacked thing, so she knows” she barked out loudly. You walked over to the door shutting it properly before making your way back to Enid’s side, pushing her shoulder lightly, “tonight we go to war she-wolf”, and the girl cringed at the sickening smile you had on your face and the way your eyes twinkled at the prospect of war.

Enid swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded, she understood there was no more going back and that there was only one way this would end.

—

Tag List: @screechcat @mary-jinx @tundra1029 @efectoangel @colezb @ognenniyvolk @awolfcsworld @youralphawolf72 @maria-403 @rainbow-love4ever @whynotmnbn @femalehomosexual666 @dreifhraniquo29 @wandaszn @thedemoninme141 @glorioushamsterqueen @jinxscatbomb @oh-thats-cute

Authors Note: a little late on my schedule but had a rough week so didn’t start it on time for it to be finished in time, but next weeks will be longer and better for we wrap up season one of the Last Heir AU.

Also I have some struggles tagging some people for some reason so if anyone knows I’d love some help with that. I also took anyone that requested to be tagged from “I Leave This Letter to You, Beloved” as a want to be tagged on everything, if you want me to change that just let me know.

I appreciate all the support!

[coffee-as-a-love-language]

Sound Asleep // Utaren

[hc: for a long time after his sister’s death, Renji slept fully clothed.

as in, fully clothed. shoes and all, in case he needed to run or fight]

(was in my soft Renji hours and came up with this hc that i’m now presenting as a ficlet. there is referenced sexual content at one point, but nothing stronger than that. mostly just good old angst and fluff, featuring both 4th ward and post-re Renji and Uta. enjoy! <3)

“That can’t be comfortable.”

Renji scowled; didn’t Uta know better than to question him anymore? It wasn’t like Renji walked around judging his weird habits. “What?” he muttered.

“Aren’t you at least gonna take your shoes off? Or your jeans?” Uta’s brow furrowed. For once, he was being irritatingly genuine. “I get sleeping mostly clothed, but….”

Renji shrugged, smoothing out the blankets of the futon Uta had laid out. “‘S just how I sleep. You got a problem with it?”

Uta was absently gnawing on one his fingernails, chipping off more black polish every second. “No. Just…whatever makes you comfortable, I guess.”

Renji scoffed before he could stop himself. “I’m comfortable knowing I’m prepared, in case….”

Something sparked in Uta’s eyes. “In case,” he echoed softly. Renji’s scowl deepened, though it did nothing to distract from the red flaring across his cheeks.

“Relax,” Uta giggled. “I told you, man, whatever makes you comfortable. I’ll leave you to it.”

“Thanks,” Renji huffed, rolling his eyes. He flopped backward and wondered how long it had been since he’d slept on a proper bed.

Uta was still smiling in that weird, knowing way that made him seem older than he was. “Sleep well, Ren. Don’t eat me in my sleep, alright?”

“No promises.”

And Renji definitely didn’t feel a rush of satisfaction when Uta laughed at that.

Alone in the dark, he stared down at the old pair of sneakers still on his feet for a long moment. Kicked them off. Put them back on the moment his chest began to tighten.

It’s fine, he thought, curling into a ball under the blankets.

As long as he was ready, he would be fine.

<><><><><><><><>><><>

“Shouldn’t this be…the other way around?” It was getting harder to think with each gentle pass of Uta’s fingers through his hair.

“What do you mean?” Uta murmured, holding him closer. His heart pounded comfortingly beneath Renji’s ear.

Renji lazily traced a finger along the tattoos on the back of Uta’s hand. “I mean…I’m the one who….” His voice got caught in his throat, hand stilling at the memory of Uta underneath him. “Shouldn’t I be holding you?”

Uta chuckled, scratching at Renji’s scalp. “That depends. Do you want me to move?”

He shifted, and immediately Renji’s grip on him tightened.

“No.”

“Exactly. You do understand there’s no rules about this sort of thing, right? Besides…I like you like this.”

Renji let out a jaw-cracking yawn and glanced up. “Like what?”

Uta smiled wistfully. “Here,” he replied. “In my arms.”

Warmth flooded Renji’s chest. He ducked his head in hopes of hiding, like there was any way Uta wasn’t going to notice.

The warmth of Uta’s skin seemed to soak into his like water into parched earth. It was intoxicating—enough to make Renji’s head go fuzzy.

“You’re welcome to go to sleep,” Uta murmured. “Or get redressed, if you’d be more comfortable that way.”

Oh, yeah.

To Renji’s amazement, there was no stab of anxiety in his chest at the reminder of how little he was wearing. He shifted, and the silky sheets against his legs sent a pleased shudder down his back. The hand that wasn’t buried in his hair rubbed soothing circles into his back.

Renji was laid completely bare—scars and all. That should have been petrifying.

It wasn’t.

He sighed. The faint hold that the words what if held on his brain slackened, then vanished.

The war’s been over for years. There won’t be any running tonight.

Renji didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud until Uta hummed approvingly, ducking down to kiss the top of his head.

“Tonight is for rest, my dear. You’re safe with me.”

Safe, Renji was.

He slept comfortably and through the night for the first time since Hikari.

[buckysgrace]

Fifty Four

“We’re supposed to hang out today,” Max pressed all of her body weight on top of Kim, as if she was trying to smother her, “You need to come out of your nest.” Kim groaned, throwing her arms to her sides dramatically. She didn’t want to move. She had to work a double today and wanted nothing more than to hide back under her blankets and pretend like she didn’t exist. She felt too numb. Her heart was gone, and her brain hurt too much to think. 

“My nest is comfortable.” Kim protested, although she knew she wouldn’t leave Max hanging. She hadn’t forgotten that they had decided to do something together. She just wished it included something simple, like lying in bed all night. She just dreaded that she would slip up and say something that she wasn't supposed to. 

“You need to live,” Max wrinkled her eyebrows together, “And shower.” Kim looked up at her confused, moving her head to sniff at her pit. She felt like she smelt fine. She just looked like a mess. She had no motivation to do her makeup, to wear anything cute. She barely could bring herself to brush her hair out. Everything felt like a chore when it didn’t involve Billy. 

“I just showered.” She told Max seriously. Max made a face like she didn’t believe her. Kim suddenly began to feel defensive, hoping that she really didn’t stink. She was still taking care of herself; she was just doing the basics of it. Every movement felt like a chore, like she had to force her hand to grab her brush so she could brush her hair out. 

“You look like death,” Max observed, “You’re not doing very good at playing hard to get.” Max looked at her with a judging eye. Kim groaned and shook her head. She didn’t want to do that. She didn’t want to make things more complicated between her and Billy. 

“Oh my god,” Kim huffed out playfully, “What do you want to do then?” She turned, watching as Max began to think. She hoped it would be something simple, something that ensured that she wouldn’t have to leave her bubble.

“Hm,” Max was still laying on top of her as she shifted around. Kim groaned as Max’s bony elbow dug into her ribs, “We could start with nails. You do it better, my hands always shake.” Max concluded, looking down at Kim with big blue eyes. She smiled right back, even though she felt nothing inside of her chest.

“If it means you’ll stop crushing me,” She dug her fingers into Max’s side, causing her to wiggle off of her with a laugh, “Mhm, better.” Kim sat up, pulling her blankets off of herself as she stood up and fixed her jeans. She hadn’t even bothered to change after she got off of work and wondered if Max had been smelling the fried food on her. She reached into one of her drawers for her set of nail polish. 

Max was still sitting on her bed and Kim didn’t mind as she joined her again. At the moment, she could care less if any of the polish got on her sheets. She thought that her room had slowly become a mess anyways. She thought that it felt nice to live in her own self pity. 

“What color?” Kim motioned to the different colors of nail polish that were resting in front of them. Max looked over curiously, her eyes darting between the different sets. Kim mainly stuck between pink and purple, but had a few different shades of blue, green and red. 

“The darker blue,” She said slowly, her eyes still taking in the different colors, “Yeah, I like that one the best.” Kim smiled as she picked the color up, not a bit surprised at the color Max had picked. 

“It’s pretty,” Kim commented as she slowly began to paint Max’s nails, “Matches your eyes.” She commented after a second. She looked down at Max’s pale skin, focusing on making sure that she didn’t get any blue on her skin.

“Are you feeling better?” Max asked softly. Kim glanced up at her, taking in the worried expression on her features before she looked back down. Kim wasn’t sure how she was supposed to describe what she was feeling. Everything felt numb. She was sure that her heart was gone, that it was following Billy around like a lost puppy. She wondered where he was, what he was doing. She wondered how he’d react when she would eventually tell him about what Susan had said. 

She glanced up at Max’s worried eyes again. She took a deep breath, wishing her heart would work again. She wondered if she should tell Max what had happened, what their mom had said. She thought for a moment, not having the heart to do so. She didn’t want to ruin her night, she didn’t want Max to be upset either. 

“Yeah,” Kim exhaled slowly, “I mean, how could I not feel amazing when I’m with my favorite person?” She grinned up at Max, not missing the way she rolled her eyes and scoffed. She watched her for a few seconds too long, wondering if Max would one day hate her if she found out about her relationship with Billy. Well, whatever remained of it. 

“You’re disgusting,” Max spoke with a laugh, “I just don’t like seeing you like this.” Kim switched Max’s hands gently, letting the painted one rest on her knee to dry. Kim didn’t like feeling like this either. There was nothing she could do about it. She got herself into this situation, now she had to deal with the consequences. 

“I’m perfectly fine,” Kim exhaled softly, dabbing away some of the blue paint that had escaped off of Max’s nail and onto her skin. She bit her lip, trying to keep her hand from shaking as she started her movements again, “You shouldn’t worry about me.” It was silly to think that Max had to be concerned with Kim. She was so much younger, she shouldn’t have to worry about anything. 

“We’re sisters,” Max reminded her. Kim leaned down and blew on her nails, trying to get them to dry faster. She felt bad for a moment, wondering if things would change between them if they had different dads. She hoped that it wouldn’t, that nothing would ever be different, “We’re supposed to take care of each other.” Kim glanced up at her, smiling softly.

“Of course,” She fanned at Max’s hands again as she capped the lid to the polish, “How does that look?” She asked, changing the conversation. She was worried that she would break down and tell Max the truth. She didn’t want to scare her. 

“Nice,” Max complimented nicely, “I got us some movies.” She hopped off of Kim’s bed gently, keeping her fingers spread wide so she wouldn’t mess the paint up. Kim followed her after a moment after she put the polish back in her spot. Kim rose, pausing as she passed by Billy’s room before she followed Max into the kitchen. 

“How’d you afford that?” Kim was almost afraid to ask. Max moved into the kitchen as she carefully poured herself a glass of water. She looked over with a smirk.

“I know people.” Max said simply. Kim shook her head as she rested her elbows on the kitchen island. She crossed her fingers together, her eyes glancing back towards Billy’s room. 

“What movie did you pick?” Kim said at last, forcing her eyes away from the hallway. She was sure that he was gone. She hadn’t seen him yesterday and she was sure that it wouldn’t change today. It seemed like he was keen on ignoring her. She just hoped he was okay, that he was figuring out whatever he needed to figure out. 

“Uh.” Max wore a sheepish grin, pushing the movies out of the way so Kim couldn’t see them. Kim felt her eyes narrowing, feeling that was something silly to ask too. 

“Max.” She chastised her playfully. Max shrugged her shoulders as she set the glass of water down on the counter. She scooted closer to Kim, still grinning full of mischief.

“Don’t be a wimp, it's fine.” Max swatted her hand playfully. She scooted the movies towards Kim. She didn’t mind Sixteen Candles, the other movie, now she did mind. She wasn't sure where Max had found her fascination with horror, but she hated it. 

“I don’t want to watch the Evil Dead,” She groaned softly, her eyes drifting up towards Max, “It’s gross.” She told her seriously. Max was still bearing her grin, obviously not going to back down from anything. 

“Suck it up.” Was Max’s reply as she scooped the movies into her arms and walked towards the living room. Kim began to feel anxious, wondering what sort of weird dreams would cloud her mind tonight. She'd probably end up crawling back into Max's bed at some point. 

“I thought you were supposed to be supporting me.” She tried her best to do anything but watch that movie. She felt bad for trying to guilt Max, but she really did hate all of the blood. 

“I will,” Max told her seriously, “After this movie.” She grinned as she bounced back into the kitchen. Kim had an urge to throw the dish towel at her.

“You hate me.” Kim whined dramatically, letting her head fall into her hands. She breathed in slowly then out deeply before she looked up again. Max was resting her hands on the other side of the counter, with an even deeper grin on her face. 

“Actually you’re pretty cool,” Max poked her nose, “But you’d be a lot cooler if you bought us pizza.” Max fluttered her eyelashes and smiled as politely as she could manage. Kim rolled her eyes, figuring that she would only compliment Kim if she wanted something. 

“You can order it, I have money in my purse. Better get enough for mom and Neil,” Kim paused for a moment, realizing that Neil could be Max’s dad. She quickly shook the thought away, not wanting to linger in something so dark, “I’m going to shower.”

“Oh thank god, you look terrible,” Max said with a smile, “Go get cleaned up, I’ll handle everything else.” Kim shook her head, picking up her playful tone. She walked into the bathroom, wondering if the water would wash everything she was worrying about down the drain. She just wanted to feel normal again, she wanted to feel like there wasn’t a gaping hole inside of her chest.

Everything made her think of Billy. Even when she showered. All she could think about was the way he had washed her hair, how he had touched her underneath the water jets. She scrubbed at her body, not wanting to forget the touch of him but wanting to lose it at the same time. She felt like his ghost was lingering to her, stuck to her side wherever she went. 

She kept turning the faucet hotter and hotter, but she still remained cold. It was like there was a permanent chill in her body that she was unable to warm. She thought of Billy again, thinking of how warm he was. She wondered if he had taken all of her heat with him. 

She couldn’t stay in for too long. She quickly finished, no longer dawdling under the water streams. She dried off as quickly as she could, not wanting Max to wait on her for too long. She scrubbed her hair dry with a towel before she began to dry it off. She didn’t bother dressing into something nice, she just put on a plain nightgown that ended mid thigh. She debated each night about putting his shirt on. It was still under her pillow, it still smelt like him. Usually she ended up holding onto it in the middle of the night. 

“Billy?” She breathed out slowly, feeling like she had fresh air in her lungs when she saw him. He turned, his arm resting on the back of the couch as he looked at it. Suddenly, it was like everything was alright. She felt that there wasn’t anything wrong. It was like a bright light was back in her life. His hair was pulled back in the blue scrunchie she had once given to him, his skin looked like it was tinted pink, as if he had been out in the sun for too long. Her heart felt like it was starting again as his blue eyes met her own.

“Yeah,” He spoke softly before he glanced over his shoulder again, looking towards Max, “She said there was going to be pizza.” He shrugged his shoulders like it wasn’t a big deal, but she knew it was. She tried to keep herself from grinning as she walked back to her room, quickly tossing her dirty clothes in there without care. 

“I told her to order enough for everyone,” She walked back out quickly, not even caring that her hair was dripping, “Are they going to be late again?” She asked no one in particular, but she was looking at Billy as she spoke. She crossed the couch, plopping herself down on the far end of the couch. She pulled at her nightgown, only doing so after Billy’s eyes found her thighs. 

“Probably,” Max spoke up first. She moved from the chair and onto the floor, beginning to set up the movie. Kim felt her pulse quickening when Billy offered her a bowl of popcorn. Her fingers lingered on the rim of the bowl, feeling like this was the first time she had been able to eat in days. She slowly took a handful, nodding towards him, “Are they ever on time?” Max mumbled under her breath before she was scooting back towards the chair.

“No,” Billy muttered underneath his breath, “It’s irritating.” He replied shortly after. She felt her lips curling into a grin as she placed the buttery popcorn against her lips. She thought of how early he arrived to work, about how he was always on time. 

“Some of us are just naturally late,” She found herself telling him. It wasn’t in defense of their parents, it had nothing to do with them. He grinned at her, his eyes swimming across her features, “Some of us don’t mean it.” She added softly, playing with the hem of her nightgown. 

“Right,” He drew out slowly and she had a strong urge to cross the couch and kick the popcorn out of his hands. All she could think about was the last time they all watched a movie together. She wanted to feel his hands on her skin again, his lips on hers, his cock inside of her. More than that, she just wanted him to talk to her like everything was fine, “I think that’s called being a brat.” She felt her face heating up softly.

Max walked over with one of the pizza boxes, setting it on the coffee table, “You know who's been acting weird lately?” Kim looked up at her confused, feeling hungry for the first time in days. It was like she couldn’t only function if Billy was near her. 

“Who?” Kim asked as she pulled a piece of pepperoni pizza to her mouth. Billy was watching her, his lips curling into a smile. She almost felt shy as she took a bite. Max turned in frustration, chewing on her pizza loudly.

“Mike,” She drew out quickly, “He’s been such a dick to me recently and I don’t know why.” Max had her eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, like he had really been annoying her. Kim was sure it was true, she knew how her friends could get. Billy sat forward suddenly.

“Do you want me to talk to him?” Billy asked, his voice sounding raspy and serious. Kim rolled her eyes playfully as she took another bite. She knew he was being serious, but it still sounded like he was trying to put on a show. Max shot him a dirty look.

“No you beef head,” Max sighed exasperated, “I want to know what his problem is.” She sounded exasperated. Kim felt bad, thinking of how hard it had been for her to make friends growing up. She had finally made a group of her own.

“Boys are weird,” Kim tried to reassure her, even though she really didn’t know what she was talking about. The only boy she had ever really dealt with was Billy, “Just give him his space.” She told Max softly. Billy snorted like it was a ridiculous idea.

“Don’t let him talk down to you though,” Billy told Max seriously. Kim watched as he rubbed at his knuckles, “Punch him if he starts saying stupid shit.” Kim looked at him exasperated and shook her head, knowing that it didn’t always have to go to violence.

“Don’t hit him,” Kim spoke up again, “Obviously don’t let him talk to you in a mean way, but hitting him will just make things worse.” She tried to explain to Max. She was sure that it would end badly. She didn’t want the rest of Max’s friends turning on her. 

“He’ll learn not to run his mouth.” Billy said seriously with his nose scrunched like he was angry at the thought of Mike saying something to Max. Kim thought it was cute, thinking that he really did look like a big brother. She felt a pang in her stomach again, thinking about how it could be true.

“She doesn’t want to start anything that will ruin her relationship with the rest of her friends.” Kim sat forward a bit, resting her elbows on her knees as she spoke. Max was glancing back and forth between the two of them, her eyebrows furrowing together. 

“I say punch them too.” Billy laughed, like it was the most obvious answer in the world. He turned to face her, his free arm resting against the back of the couch. She gulped hard, trying to ignore the way his eyes were lingering against her skin. She nearly felt like they were back to square one, pretending like the other felt nothing.

“Billy,” She was shaking her head again, “She can’t fight all of them.” Kim wasn’t able to look at him. She glanced towards Max, watching the amused grin that was forming on her lips. Kim was fairly certain Max could handle all of those boys if she wanted to. 

“Okay,” Billy drew out slowly as he took another bite of pizza. He kicked his feet up by her, his socks pressing against her thigh, “She fights Mike and I’ll handle the rest of them.” He concluded. She turned then, noticing the grin on his face as he finished chewing his pizza. She was glad Max was in the room, otherwise, she feared she may pounce on him. She was completely in love with his cocky attitude and annoying smirk. 

“Neither of you are helping me,” Max said finally, “I’m actually really confused now.” Kim finally drew her eyes back towards Max. Her eyebrows were still drawn in tightly together, like she didn’t know what to think. Kim exhaled softly, too aware of the way Billy was watching her. He was frustrating, she was sure of that. 

“Have you tried to talk to him at all?” Kim asked suddenly, realizing that she hadn’t suggested that to begin with. Billy was moving his toes against her thigh, the material from his sock digging into her skin. She shot him a look but was unsure if she really wanted him to stop or not. She liked having him so close, but it made her heart hurt at the same time. It was like nothing had happened between them. 

“I think it’s something about his mom,” Max spoke honestly, “Only he’s not treating anyone else differently.” She sounded confused as she spoke. Kim was confused too. She didn’t know why Mike would blame Max for something that Karen had apparently done. 

“I can kill him,” Billy sounded completely serious again, “We can hide the body.” He said at last, sitting up just enough so that he had to reach over Kim to grab another slice. She swore all of her insides flipped at the scent of him. He smelt so good, she nearly wiped at her mouth to keep from drooling. When he pulled back, he had a smirk on his face, like he was waiting for her to respond. She had such an ache for him that she didn’t understand. She just wanted to be with him, and it was like he was dangling himself in front of her. She didn’t know if he was doing it on purpose, but she didn’t have enough shame to stop herself if that’s what he wanted. 

“Oh my god,” Kim finally found her voice again as she remembered what he had just said, “No one is hiding any bodies.” She said seriously, giving both of them a pointed look. Max had a curious look on her face, which Kim wanted to get rid of quickly. None of them were even paying attention to the movie on the screen. 

“We just have to chop it off, throw it in the quarry after,” He rubbed his hands together after he put the crust in his mouth. She stared at him baffled, “No one will find it.” He spoke as if he had thought about it before. She wondered who he had thought about doing it to, she wondered if Steve had made it on that list. 

“That sounds disgusting,” Max wrinkled her nose up in disgust, “Where would we chop the body up at?” Max questioned, sounding very curious. Billy laughed, the couch vibrating with the sound. Kim stared over towards him, wanting to shut this down before Max got any real ideas. 

“Max!” Kim shouted out in protest, quickly shaking her head no. She regretted the day that they had officially got a TV. All she had been influenced by was scary movies and Kim was sure Billy was a big reason for it. 

“The bathtub,” Billy nodded his head, “Wouldn’t be as messy.” He explained his reasons as he crossed his hands over his chest. He glanced towards the TV and she found herself staring at his side profile. She could still see the hint of hickeys along the curve of his neck. She didn’t feel as hurt, she felt rage. She wanted to kiss his neck and decorate his skin with her own marks. She wanted everyone to know that he was taken, that he was hers. He wasn’t ready yet, she kept trying to remind herself of that. 

“You couldn’t handle all of the blood,” Kim told him seriously as she turned to face him, “You hate messes, you’d freak out.” She told him, thinking of how picky he had been when he set his candles in his pie. He turned to look at her again, his blue eyes challenging her. 

“No, I wouldn’t.” He scoffed in disbelief. She nudged her leg against his foot, knowing it was very true. She was surprised that he hadn’t made a bigger deal about his room. She felt her eyebrow raising.

“You would,” She knew she was right, even if he wasn’t ready to admit it, “You’d be too concerned about which body part goes where and stuff like that.” She teased him, thinking of how funny it would be if he had different bags for different body parts. He shook his head, looking away but she didn’t miss the smile on his face.

“Do you think it would look like that?” Max referenced towards the TV. Kim kept her eyes trailed on Billy, watching how the screen flashed against his skin. She had no desire to look at what Max was referencing, she’d have no one to comfort her when she had nightmares.

“It would be cool,” Kim shook her head as Billy spoke. She readjusted herself on the couch, sitting in the corner and stretching her legs out. She tried not to fidget as she did her best to ignore the sensation of her skin rubbing up against Billy’s, “I doubt it actually looks like that though.” Billy’s eyes moved from the TV and up Kim’s long legs. She held her breath, slowly moving her legs apart so he could look up her gown.

She kept her legs apart for only a few seconds, before she was too shy and clasped her ankles around each other tightly. Billy was staring at her with his lips parted, an unreadable expression on his features. She bit back a smirk as she pretended to watch the TV, glad that she was still able to get a reaction from him. He pressed his foot against her thigh, trying to push the gown up higher. She beamed at him, shaking her head as she adjusted it again. 

It was comfortable in the room for a while and Kim felt like things hadn’t changed between the two of them. She winced as she looked away from a particular bloody scene, her eyes finding Billy and Max’s intrigued faces. She licked her bottom lip as she thought about what her mom had said. 

She was sure it couldn’t be true. She didn’t know why her dad would stay if Max hadn’t been his, then again, maybe that was why he left. She felt a sinking feeling in her stomach as she watched them. They were similar in a lot of ways, but she always tried to brush it off as them having the same interests. Now, she wasn’t too sure. 

She knew she was staring for far too long, but she couldn’t help it. She was trying to compare the blue in their eyes. She was trying to see how similar they were, as if that would solve everything her mom had said. 

“You’re staring,” Billy observed quietly, turning to face her. She felt her shoulders shake as she tried to inhale as she tried to breathe again. It felt so hard to do anything when he was watching her, “What’s wrong?” His voice was soft as he spoke. She exhaled slowly, wishing it was something she could simply tell him. It was too difficult; it wasn’t the right time. 

“I guess I was just daydreaming,” She tried to play it off, but she could tell by the way he held eye contact with her that he didn’t believe her. She pulled the blanket up closer to her chest, unsure of how she was supposed to tell him anything. She didn’t want anything between the two of them to change. She didn’t want to lose him, “It’s a gory movie too.” She added at the end, pressing a smile to her lips. He nodded his head, like he believed that easier. 

She turned away, unsure of where she was supposed to look. She kept thinking of her mom’s hazel eyes and her dad’s brown eyes. She wondered if she needed to dig through family photos, see who all had blue eyes passed down through their family. She was overthinking, being completely irrational. She knew it was just an eye color. 

“When do you want to give her the skateboard?” He asked suddenly, distracting her mind from her thoughts. She felt her eyes widen as she turned to Max’s confused face. She felt bad, having forgotten all about the present.

“Oh,” She tucked her hair behind her ears as she sat up a bit, “Now is fine. Is it in your car?” She really didn’t like the thought about wearing this outside, but Max was sitting on the edge of her chair, practically bouncing in excitement.

“You got me a skateboard?” Kim liked the way her eyes lit up, the way she was fighting a grin. Kim nodded her head, turning towards Billy.

“We both did,” She pointed out quickly, not wanting to leave Billy behind, “I forgot about it. Sorry.” She mumbled under her breath. Max’s smile was enough to fix any heartache. 

“I put it in my room,” Billy stood suddenly, and Kim found herself missing his warmth, “Be right back.” He was out of the room suddenly, not even that far away, but Kim still missed him. She didn’t know how to describe this feeling, how to understand any of it. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to get over him. 

“Thank you,” Max was bouncing over towards her. Kim tucked her knees in, smiling as Max joined her on the couch, “It’ll be like my first real one.” Kim nodded her head, thinking of how badly she’d always wanted to skate.

“Billy picked it out,” Kim pulled some of Max’s long hair out of her face, “I wasn’t sure which one you’d like.” She grinned, watching the way Max leaned into her. 

“You would’ve figured it out,” Max spoke confidently as she turned to look at Kim. Kim hadn’t seen her so excited in a long time. She liked the way her eyes lit up in excitement. She hoped that this would keep her from worrying about Mike, “Just no-”

“Pink,” Kim finished for her with a smile. Billy walked back into the room, holding it out towards Max nonchalantly, “We hope you like it.” She spoke for both of them, noticing the awkward expression that was written on Billy’s features. He glanced towards her, nodding softly. 

“I need to find something to do with my hair,” Max whined after she had examined and studied her board for the longest time, “It’s going to get in the way.” Kim thought about suggesting that she just put it up but decided against it. She assumed that it didn’t work anyways. 

“Why don’t you just cut it?” Billy asked, sounding completely serious. Kim bit her lip, trying not to think of the awful haircuts Max had given herself over the years. Max shrugged her shoulders, looking a bit defeated.

“Mom wanted me to go to the salon, but they never want to cut it that short,” She protested, “They say it’s too pretty.” She scoffed and rolled her eyes, as if it was the most ridiculous thing to say. 

“I could cut it,” Billy offered, “I cut my own.” He said after a moment. Kim raised her eyebrows wide, watching how Max turned her head back eagerly to look at him. She was grinning from ear to ear.

“Really?” You mean it?” She asked, still looking up to make sure that he wasn’t lying. Billy chuckled, touching her hair softly. Kim felt a pang in her stomach, wondering if everything would change between them. 

“Sure,” He said softly, “You just can’t tell anyone that I did it.” He told her seriously. Kim nodded her head, thinking that was a smart idea. She was sure Susan and Neil would freak out once they saw she had a haircut. 

“What do you think?” Max turned to look at Kim, waiting for her to approve or deny the request. Kim smiled and shrugged her shoulders. If it made Max happy, she would be happy for her. 

“I think you look pretty no matter how your hair is,” Kim smiled big at her, “Go ahead and let him cut it. What’s the worst that could happen?” Max was beaming, smiling brighter than the sun. It made Kim feel happy.

“Okay,” Max stood up suddenly, rushing her way across the couch, “Can we do it right now?” She was bouncing on the balls of her feet, jumping in front of Billy. He looked down at her surprised. 

“Sure, I guess,” Billy looked like it wasn’t that big of a deal. Kim was trying not to smile; she could tell that he was enjoying himself as well. Even if he was trying hard to deny it, “I’ll get my stuff.” He mumbled as he walked away again. She wondered if he'd enjoy having Max as a younger sister, or if he would hate it. The thought made her sick again, thinking about how they could both be related to Max. 

“How are you going to cut it?” Kim grinned, facing Max again as she waited for her to answer. It was nice to have a distraction. Kim didn’t feel so empty at the moment. Max thought for a moment.

“It’ll be a surprise.” She said at last. Kim nodded, fully taking her word for it. She waited on the couch until they were done. She could hear Max telling Billy different ways that she wanted it styled and how she wanted it done. Kim was just glad that she was doing something that she liked. It was silent for a moment, before Max bounded over the couch again. 

“What do you think?” Max was grinning from ear to ear, looking full of excitement as she stood in front of Kim. Kim’s eyes lingered on her hair, a smile forming on her lips as she realized it resembled Billy’s mullet. They looked like they were a set. It made her heart soar and burn at the same time. 

“Cute,” She leaned forward to puff at the sides gently, “I really like it, Max.” She told Max truthfully. She would’ve told her it looked good even if it was ugly. She meant it though; it did seem to fit her better. Max never seemed to enjoy having long hair. 

“Mom’s gonna freak out,” Max was still grinning, “It just gets all in my face. I hate it.” She whined as she protested. She plopped herself down on Kim’s lap, earning a groan from her.

“It won’t now,” Kim fussed with her hair, looking at how even it looked. She glanced back as Billy made his way back towards them, fidgeting with his rings, “It looks really nice.” She complimented him, her eyes dropping to his hands. Kim tried not to think about how his fingers tasted in her mouth, how they felt inside of you. She quickly turned away, fearing she'd give herself away. She had grown used to her heart hurting around him, she didn't think her body would still crave him. She was growing frustrated. 

“Thanks,” He moved back to his spot, “It wasn’t too hard to do.” He faced them as he sat down. Kim snaked her arms around Max’s waist, remembering how she used to hold her when she was little. 

“She really is going to freak out.” Kim told Max seriously, thinking of how their mom had flipped out the other times. At least now it was actually styled, but Kim had a feeling Susan wouldn’t appreciate that it was a mullet. Max leaned against Kim, resting her head on top of Kim’s.

“She’ll get over it.” Max shrugged her shoulders, but Kim felt her stiffen when the familiar sound of a car pulled up. Billy rose quickly, taking the horror movie out. Neil didn’t like those movies and Susan thought that the girls were too young to watch them, especially Max.

“Remember,” Billy sat back down on the couch, hiding The Evil Dead to his side, “I didn’t do anything.” He told Max seriously. She sank down next to Kim, nodding her head as she appeared a little pale. Kim grinned.

“Too late to regret it now,” Kim told Max, ignoring the irritated look that Max gave her. She only shrugged her shoulders, laughing at the way Max sank further into the cushions.

Neil and Susan came in through the back, full of smiles as they appeared. Kim waved her hand softly, forcing a smile. She looked back over her shoulder, looking at how Billy looked withdrawn. She had an urge to reach out and touch his hand.

“What are you guys doing?” Neil sounded nice as he spoke. Max was still trying to hide, looking like she had suddenly regretted her decision. Kim glanced at the two of them, wondering if she would have to be the one to speak.

“We ordered pizza,” She said at last, filling the silence in the room, “We watched a few movies.” She shrugged her shoulders, then quickly stopped. She was trying not to draw too much attention to Max.

“Oh, that’s nice,” She watched as her mom walked around the corner. She ruffled Billy’s hair as she walked by, and Kim found herself grinning as the uncomfortable expression that crossed his features. Max dipped down lower, narrowly avoiding it, “I’m glad you’re all getting along.” 

“Yeah,” Billy glanced towards Neil, “There’s more pizza in there if you want it.” He offered softly. Kim wanted to reach across the couch and pull him into his lap. She hated how he was constantly seeking Neil’s approval. Susan paused, turning around quickly. 

“Max!” Susan exclaimed, dropping her purse in horror, “Your hair! Oh my god, what happened to your hair?” She was gripping Max’s face, turning her side to side as she examined the mullet that Max was sporting. Max shrugged her shoulders, a smirk pressing into her lips as she finally found her confidence again.

“What?” Max looked at her, like she was challenging her to say something, “You said I needed a haircut, I got one.” Neil was staring too, a displeased look on his features. 

“Billy!” Susan was exasperated as she turned to face him. Billy held his hands up innocently and Kim found herself ready to defend him as well. She didn’t want Neil beating him for doing so. 

“It wasn’t Billy,” Max defended quickly, “I went to the salon like you said, only I didn’t like the girl that was going to do my hair. So, I went to a barber shop.” Max was quick to come up with a story. Kim was trying not to laugh, knowing it sounded exactly like something Max would do. Susan was still staring at her, as if Max had grown another head. She sighed deeply, pushing her hair from her face in frustration. 

“A barber shop?” Neil walked closer, looking at her hair with his lip curled up. Kim suddenly wondered if she should get a mullet too. The three of them could match. 

“They had an arcade in the back.” Max said quickly, defending her story. Susan looked at her like she had just been stabbed. Kim's eyes lingered towards Billy, watching as he covered his mouth with his hand to keep from grinning. She was sure he was trying not to laugh. 

“It’ll grow back,” Kim defended Max gently, “It’s hair. It grew back before.” Kim nodded her head. Max pressed her cheek against her shoulder, hiding her smile into Kim’s skin. Billy was bouncing his foot, beginning to shake the couch as Neil turned towards them again. 

“I don’t want it to look like that,” Susan protested, looking at Max’s hair one last time, “Why would you cut it like that?” She sounded exasperated, like she couldn't understand anything that Max did. Max shrugged her shoulders.

“I didn’t like it long, it kept getting in the way,” She tried to explain, “This is the style now.” Max touched the ends of her hair gently, puffing it up. She looked proud of her hair and Kim found herself tucking a piece of her red hair from Max's face. She didn't want Max to feel bad about it. It was cute, it fit her. Even if it wasn't a normal haircut for a girl. 

“For boys!” Susan groaned, pressing her hands to her cheeks, “That’s enough movies and pizza. You guys should’ve watched her.” Susan leaned against the couch, looking frustrated as she turned towards Kim and Billy. Kim felt herself stiffening, not wanting Billy to get blamed for what had happened. 

“We worked,” Kim spoke before Billy, beating him to the bush, “I can’t take her to work with me.” She told her mom seriously, unsure of how she would’ve stopped it had it happened that way. 

“Max can just go with Billy to the pool from now on,” Neil said suddenly. Kim had expected him to be more upset, but he looked amused. She didn’t like that. She wondered if he was thinking about Max as his own. She pulled Max closer to her, “That way he can watch her.”

“Are you serious?” Billy sounded irritated as he spoke. Kim glanced towards him quickly, worried that he would get in trouble. Max frowned.

“I don’t like the water.” She whined as she shuffled her feet together. Kim nudged her shoulder softly, trying to get her to stop.

“You should’ve thought of that before you cut your hair,” Susan told her seriously, “I think it’s time everyone goes to lay down.” She huffed softly, still looking like she couldn’t believe Max had done that. Kim shuffled towards the edge of the couch, suddenly self-conscious with what she was wearing. 

“Thanks so much mom,” Max huffed, stomping towards her room, “I’m keeping my hair like this too!” She shut the door after that, still knowing better than to slam it with Neil around. 

“Just keep an eye on her,” Neil was looking at Billy pointedly, “It’s your responsibility.” Kim felt bad that it somehow always seemed to fall onto his shoulders. She was grateful that he was at least not getting beat for what he had done. 

“Yes sir.” Billy didn’t miss a beat as he spoke. He picked the movie up, still keeping it to his side as he rose from the couch. He handed Kim a blanket, looking at her one last time before he left. Kim felt lonely again, quickly wrapping the blanket around herself and leaving. She headed into her room, shutting the door behind her.

She was grinning, despite the odd feeling that was swimming back inside of her body. She felt like this had been the first normal night that they had since Chicago. She missed him. She missed everything about him. She had a strong urge to go back to him now but fought it. 

She laid down on her bed, pulling her blanket up over herself as she stared up at the ceiling. She felt a bubbling feeling forming in the pit of her stomach. She tried to ignore it, tried to ignore the wetness that was dripping between her thighs. She huffed, unsure of why she had to crave him when her feelings were still raw. 

Kim kept tossing and turning, trying to ignore the numbness that was spreading through her at the same time. It seemed that the only part of her body didn’t understand that she was supposed to be feeling that way. She kept thinking about Billy. How his eyes had lingered on her skin and how he still wanted her. She had an urge to bite down on her fist, completely frustrated with everything. 

She finally rose, stripping her nightgown and panties off before she put on Billy’s white wife beater over her head. She sighed in bliss, enjoying the way she could still smell him. She ran her hands along the curve of her body, imagining that it was Billy’s large hands instead. She thought of his raspy voice, the naughty things he’d say to her if he knew what she was about to do.

Her nipples hardened against her shirt, and she could no longer ignore the throbbing between her legs. She pushed her fingers between her folds softly, gasping at how wet she felt. She was frustrated, so irritated that Billy could do this to her so easily when they weren’t even together.

She moved her hand away quickly, grabbing a hold of one of her pillows. She folded it up before she quickly straddled it between her legs, begging to get rid of some of the tension. She moved her hips down slowly, gasping at the feeling of her wet cunt dragging across the rough material.

Her hands found her boobs as she slowly created a rhythm against the pillow. She was biting her lip, trying to be quiet, but it was like she hadn’t ever been touched before. Her clit was throbbing from the sensation, begging for more. She pretended that she was on top of Billy, that she was pressing down on his hard cock as she rolled her hips roughly.

She was so frustrated as she grinded her hips back down against the soft pillow, wishing she was being stuffed full of Billy’s cock instead. She gasped as she imagined him sliding in and out of her wet cunt. She thought of his rough hands, his dirty tongue and his toned body. 

She was losing control, feeling close as she fell forward into her other pillows. She desperately fixed the pillow between her legs, moaning as she grinded down harder into her pillow. She was hot and sweaty, trying to muffle her sounds as she pressed her face into the pillows.

“Billy,” She was crying out desperately, thinking of him as the movement of her hips became lazier. Her pillow was soaked, wet from her pussy as she moved down harder, thinking of how good he looked with his lips covered in her slick, “Oh Billy.” She bit down on one of her other pillows, cutting over her sounds completely as her thighs shook. Her stomach tightened and she came hard, pressing her cunt as hard into the pillow as she could manage. 

She stilled, panting into her bed as she came down from her high. Her ears were ringing as her thighs shook from how hard and quick, she had just come. She didn’t realize that her body would crave Billy the same way her heart did. She slowly peeled herself away, pulling the pillowcase away from her pillow and discarding it in the room. She rose slowly, beginning to take herself to the bathroom to clean away the shame. She debated about changing but decided against it. She wanted to keep the memory of Billy close to her. 

“Are you wearing my shirt?” Her body froze and she jumped as she paused near the bathroom door. Her eyes widened three sizes too big, and she peered at Billy standing in the kitchen, holding a beer in his hands. She froze in her spot, her fingers clenching together tightly as she grew flustered. She pulled his shirt over her thighs, wishing it was larger to hide her away. 

“You said I could have it.” His eyes scanned along the curve of her body, taking in milky thighs and perky nipples. He put his can down, stalking towards her slowly. Her pulse quickened and she felt her body warm as she took in his hungry eyes.

“Looks nice on you,” He had her back up against the wall, his hands drifting along her curves. She moaned at the touch, her body reacting before her mind could, “You’re so fucking loud.” He criticized, causing her cheeks to warm. She hasn’t been that loud, there was no way he had heard her.

“I wasn’t doing anything.” She protested. Her eyes widened as he dipped his hand between her legs. She whimpered softly, biting down on her bottom lip as he pressed his thick fingers against her wet cunt. He smirked as he dragged his warm fingers along her slick.

“You weren’t?” He teased her, his finger pressing against her swollen clit as he spoke. She exhaled roughly, her hips moving up towards his fingers. She shook her head quickly, ignoring how his free hand was sliding underneath the shirt and exploring her slender body.

“I was behaving,” She said quickly, her breath hitching in the back of her throat as he moved his fingers across her hole. She needed him to stop, she was craving him too badly to be the one to say no, “Oh god.” She mumbled softly, grinding against his fingers while his other hand squeezed at her boobs.

“You make this so hard,” He grumbled out, “Such a fucking brat.” She sighed, moaning softly against his lips as he kissed her hard. She fumbled for a moment before she found his pace, sliding her tongue into his mouth. It was messy and sloppy, but she didn’t mind. 

“I can make it up to you,” She promised, her palm pressing against his bulge. She squeezed, desperately wishing he’d just bend her over and relieve both of their tensions. He groaned, pressing closer to her, “I’ll be a good little sister.” She promised, knowing how he liked when she referred to herself as that.

“Fucking little minx,” He cursed out, gripping her chin as he kissed her again. She whimpered grinding her hips back up against him as a way to convince him, “Want you so bad.” His words danced in her ears. She was ecstatic, knowing that he still felt something for her. 

“I want you too.” She breathed out hard, her hands tracing the curve of his arms as she held onto him. She was searching for his darkened eyes, begging him for just a moment together. He bit his bottom lip hard.

“I can’t,” He said at last, looking a little crestfallen, “I don’t want to hurt you.” He finished his thought as he looked towards her. She was still clinging to him, not caring if she regretted this later. She only cared about what she felt right now.

“You won’t,” She promised, nearly falling on her knees to beg for him, “I want it too. Please.” She was trying to reassure him. She didn’t care if he didn’t make a decision after this, she just needed him right now. Just a part of him.

“Kim,” He sighed as he cupped her face, kissing her softer this time, “I don’t want to drag you along.” She was close to groaning in frustration. She leaned in closer, pressing her face up toward his again.

“I don’t mind,” Their lips were close as she spoke. He looked like he was debating it, “You said we could still have fun.” She was nodding her head, trying to convince him to change his mind.

“You’re cute when you’re like this,” He said at last as he slowly moved his hands away from her. She could’ve ripped her hair out and screamed from the loss of his touch, “It’s not the right time.” She felt like whimpering.

“When will be the right time?” She asked at last, worried that he would never want to be with her again. She wished she hadn’t made things so awkward.

“I don’t know,” He said at last. He pressed his lips against the corner of her mouth, “I promise it’s nothing against you.” She nodded her head, although she wasn’t sure. She worried that he’d find someone else. He kisses her again, slow and sweet as if he knew what she was thinking.

“It’s no fun when you tease me,” She pouted her lips out, her hands now resting against his chest, “I’m all bothered again.” She told him, watching the way a smirk formed on his lips.

“Do you want the vibrator?” He asked her, tilting his head as he watched her eyes go wide. She felt her cheeks warming again as she thought about the toy. She resisted clenching her thighs together.

“Nope,” She told him quickly. It felt too personal to use on her own and she was sure if she did, she’d have the whole house awake, “I’m fine.” She squeaked out. He looked at her amused, like he expected nothing less from her. He was frustrating. She just wished he could admit his feelings too.

“Are you going to Tommy’s party?” She nodded her head yes, curious if he was going to go. She figured he would, but she didn’t see a point in showing up if he wasn’t there. It wouldn't be fun if he didn't go, she'd have nothing to look forward to. 

“Yeah,” She hated the empty feeling that was settling over her as he pulled further away from her, “I sort of made a deal so I could find you.” She smiled softly, willing him to stay with her. Everything else that was complicated between them could wait until the morning. They could live for right now, forgetting the rest of it. She only wanted him. 

“Maybe I’ll see you there.” She felt another stabbing in her chest. Maybe. He acted like he might have better things to do, like he wouldn’t even search for her in a crowd. She felt ice in her lungs as she breathed out again, feeling like she was losing him.

“Yeah,” She tucked her hair behind her ears, “Maybe I will.” It hurt her to say. She wanted to see him. Even if he wouldn’t be, she’d be searching through the various faces until she landed on his. He cupped her face again, pressing his lips against hers in a gentle peck and leaving her more confused than ever. She watched as he left, feeling cold and empty again as her heart trudged along after him. She wanted him back.

[cannedcrow]

Arbitrary Darkness (HC Monster Hunter AU) Part VI

A/N: More Arbitrary Darkness to go with the art I've been doing!

Part V - AO3

~ please rb if you enjoy! ….〆(･ω･。) ~

TWs: blood, injury, death, the usual.

Grian let himself into the house, calling a greeting to Mumbo, though the house held no reply. Disappointment flooded Grian - Mumbo must've stayed late at work. He hung up his cloak, dumped his weapons on a table, wandered into the office and started a fire before going to brew tea. The apartment felt gloomy and lonely without Mumbo, and he finally realised how much he'd missed him. He readied a lazy meal of bread, cheese and chutney from the pantry before settling in front of the fire, polishing his knives though they hadn't had a chance to be bloodied. He'd lost the one he'd stabbed Doc with. Hope that hurt, bastard.

He smiled faintly, imagining Joel setting into his sickly meal of stewed ghast tentacles. He was, he reflected, at rather an impasse. Joel had been crystal clear about where he stood - Grian was only to live if he stayed out of it and posed no threat. He held a vicious resentment for being threatened out of doing his job, but how possible was it to stay out anyway? What if he was contracted to kill one specifically? He couldn't decline - or ignore, for that matter - a contract without drawing intense suspicion upon himself. The police would be no kinder than the monsters if they found out what he was. He was so lucky to have found solace in Mumbo.

He'd been living with Mumbo for only a month or so when he'd been found out, though they'd been friends years before that. Grian had come home one night bleeding heavily from a deep slash along his forearm, courtesy of a piglin that'd found it's way through an unlicensed nether portal. He'd dispatched the creature easily enough, but it only took a slip on the slick cobbles for the beast to get it's sword in. Judging by the amount of blood, it must've clipped a major artery.

"Christ, Grian -" Mumbo exclaimed upon seeing him, "I'll call a doctor. Lie down quick."

"No -" Grian had gasped desperately, "No doctor. I can do it. It's fine."

"You're bleeding out mate, I have to-"

"No," Grian growled, pushing past Mumbo to slump on the sofa and pull up his torn sleeve, wiping at the wound with a wet cloth, "Get the medical box, I can do it." He'd have to trust that the dim light was enough to let the greyish skin of his forearm go unnoticed.

Mumbo watched him, worry evident in his gaze, but did as Grian bid, retrieving the box and settling by the sofa.

Grian winced, wrapping a leather strap around his bicep as tightly as he could. He pulled out the necessary implements habitually, beginning to wipe antiseptic on the edges of the cut. He tried valiantly to thread a needle but his hands were shaking too much. He proffered it to Mumbo helplessly.

"I- I don't know how, Grian. Let me call a doctor."

"You have to," Grian gritted out, "It's curved - insert it outside the edge, draw it through deep inside, go through the inside of the other edge and out again. Tie it tightly and cut the thread before the next stitch."

Mumbo looked doubtful but did as he was bid as Grian slumped back, breathing heavily as his arm throbbed. Mumbo started to slide Grian's glove off and he grabbed at it.

Mumbo glared at him, "If you won't let me get a doctor, you have to let me try properly."

Grian gave up, watching his face as he revealed Grian's taloned hand. He stilled a moment, staring, but shook his head slightly and began to stitch, concentrating hard.

"I'm sorry," Grian breathed, closing his eyes.

That's the end of it all then, he'd thought.

Mumbo didn't reply, tying off the first stitch before starting another. Grian did his best to ignore the feeling of a thousand bees stinging him at once.

"What are you?"

It was a casual question, all things considered.

"Harpy," Grian replied dully.

Mumbo was quiet. Contemplating or scared?

He hissed as the needle grazed a vein, and Mumbo looked up, standing and walking away before returning with a healthy measure of brandy. "Should've thought before, sorry mate. It'll help."

Grian accepted, gulping down the spirit eagerly as Mumbo grinned.

He sighed heavily, returning the glass, "Are you going to turn me in then?"

Mumbo paused, putting the glass on the floor and disinfecting his hands before continuing his work thoughtfully.

"It's the obvious choice, innit? But, how many times have we stumbled home drunk together through a million dark alleys?" He drew another stitch closed carefully, "I'm not great with signals - hence the divorce - but you haven't tried to murder me yet. I don't really have any reason to think you're a danger. To me, anyway."

Grian pondered quietly.

"If I ever get found out, you knew nothing." It wasn't much better to be a human hiding a monster than a monster itself.

"Here's hoping you don't."

He'd explained his feelings on the matter entirely to Mumbo, his reasons for being the way he was, and Mumbo had trusted him, trusted him all this time. He still had an untidy scar along his forearm, and in a bizarre way, it symbolised their friendship.

He'd fallen asleep in front of the fire and was only awoken when Mumbo exclaimed in surprise at seeing him.

"Grian! Fuckin hell mate, you gave me a fright."

Grian yawned and stretched, "Well, that makes two of us."

He bounded to him and enveloped Mumbo in a tight hug, "I missed you. How've you been?"

Mumbo hugged him back warmly. "Forget me, what about you? Where the hell were you? I was so close to calling the police, but I thought your undercover thing was going longer than expected and you wouldn't want me to intervene."

"Well, the undercover thing didn't go too well," Grian admitted gingerly, "Frankly I ought to be dead. It was a complete trick, I should've seen it - they lured me in and did their best to kill me. Luckily, weaselling my way out of immediate death is something I'm quite good at."

He ran a weary hand through his hair, "God I have so much to tell you."

"Want a drink?" Mumbo offered, moving to the cabinet to retrieve a cocktail shaker.

"Please. Last thing I had was chorus fruit liquor."

"Chorus fruit? Why would anyone bother?" Mumbo sounded utterly bemused as he began to make a drink.

They had double sidecars as Grian told his story. Mumbo made for a good audience, contributing appropriately horrified expressions and odd sounds of surprise.

"So, that's where we are," Grian finished, rather anticlimactically.

"Makes my life feel a bit boring really," Mumbo said, "most exciting thing that happened to me was someone stealing my sandwich at work."

"Yeah, I get all the fun. Phantom bites and death threats, it's a ball." Grian replied drily, "Who stole your sandwich?"

"Nevermind that. We should call the police. You know everything you need to, and they can clear the place out."

"I can't, not yet," Grian replied, fidgeting with his glass, thinking uncomfortably about Impulse, "I just can't. They're dangerous and it's a big organisation. The cops will fuck it up and they'll regroup."

"What are you going to do then? Live in fear of monsters coming to our door to kill you?"

"I don't know!" Grian gritted, "I have to be smarter than them. I have a chance to get back in and earn their trust, I think. Joel seemed to think so, anyway. Guess that was an olive branch, in his weird way. It's the only chance to uproot it from the inside. I think ... there's so many there that can't hide in society, I think they have somewhere else they're hiding. Any scrap of information that gets out will draw them back to me."

He smiled wanly at Mumbo, "At least it'll make for a more interesting story for Papa K."

Mumbo shook his head wearily, "You're in real trouble G. They know what you are, too. I don't know if you'll ever be able to threaten them again without them bringing you down too."

"Right, that's the other issue. I was worried I didn't have enough."

Mumbo stood, loosening his tie, "We'll figure something out. Or die horribly. For now though, I've got to get to sleep - you probably ought to as well eh?"

"I'd like nothing better," Grian assented, taking their glasses to the kitchen.

"Oh, G?" Mumbo called.

"Mm?"

"I'm going for a drink tomorrow night with a coworker, you should come! You'd like her."

Grian returned to the office, smirking, "Coworker eh? You getting back out there?"

Mumbo rolled his eyes witheringly. "Try not to be so insufferable all the time. We're working on a story together, that's why I was late tonight."

"Sure, sure," Grian replied in smug complacency.

"Well done, I'm already regretting inviting you. Speaking of work though -" Mumbo opened the desk drawer and retrieved several envelopes, "-You have your own to catch up on. Without your demon buddy to sell to we've lost that particular side hustle."

He handed the letters to Grian and clapped him on the shoulder.

"I'm glad you're home, G. Night!"

Grian woke early and situated himself at his desk with a cup of tea to sort through his letters. He'd have to get a job done today - he hadn't gotten a payout since that zoglin, and putting down the equivalent of a rabid dog wasn't worth much. It was usually the police that contracted him, unless civilians cut through the middleman. It'd taken years to get to enough prominence for that. Zombie, demon, stray .. faun, by the sound of it... He didn't particularly feel like killing anything that could talk for the moment. One reported an enderman sighted near Threader's Alley. Couldn't keep the damn things out of the city. Grian held the paper thoughtfully. That'd do. Easy enough to deal with if you knew how, and they were scary enough to guarantee a good price. He folded the letter and began to pack his bag as Mumbo strolled in, pulling on a shirt haphazardly.

"You heading out? Bit early isn't it?"

"Sure," Grian mumbled around a large apple in his teeth. He removed it politely from his mouth to finish, "Gonna go snag an enderman or we won't have any drinking money for tonight. Those little alleys are usually dark enough for them."

"Good luck then," Mumbo agreed, "Don't get too slashed up, you might be a bit rusty."

"Rusty," Grian repeated with incredulity, "How dare you."

He slung his bag over his shoulder and opened the door, calling "Tea's in the pot - bye!"

He munched on his apple contentedly as he walked a few blocks to the alley in question. It was a sunny morning, warm, clear and decidedly delightful. He chucked the apple core away as he arrived at the entrance to a side street, checking his bag carefully and removing a tiny box.

Slipping down a few alleys brought him to Threader's alley, a particularly dark and dingy bootlace street where it might've been twilight for all the light available. He quickly set down the box and sequestered himself neatly behind a dumpster.

In a matter of minutes, the enderman appeared out of nowhere, it's ghastly, sucking scream echoing in the alley as it stared idiotically at the tiny box. Who are you trying to intimidate? In fairness, the thing could be called nothing less than intimidating - taller than two men but thinner and longer than any, hunched over with it's long, clawlike fingers hanging at its sides, jaw unhinged, freeing that ugly noise from between dripping, stringy teeth.

What is their deal with endermites? He drew his hunting blade and the delicate bottle of water, throwing it straight at the enderman before picking up his shield. It shattered, splashing the enderman liberally. It screeched even louder, turning its attention to its assailant as the tarry skin began to bubble and smoke, eaten away as though by acid. Grian mockingly met its inhuman lilac eyes as he dashed in, ducking under a swiping arm before swinging his knife clean through one of its legs. They were nightmarish, but ultimately pretty flimsy - a heavy blow from someone who knew how to deliver it could sever an enderman's limb. The trouble was their inhuman ability to cling onto life.

The enderman stumbled gracelessly, swiping again at Grian as he slipped out of range. Make it angry. He kept staring into the things eyes as it collapsed, unable to support itself on one leg. It began to claw it's labourous way along the cobbles towards him, and Grian knelt to lop off one long hand before it teleported behind him, as evidenced by a wet thump. He spun as a clawed hand went for his leg, tearing his leg out of reach before it could make contact and stomping hard on the brittle arm. Dark plum blood spattered across him as he walked around it, getting past those nasty teeth before planting a foot on its back and ramming his knife through its skull. The thing gurgled and spat as its furious scream gradually drowned in its blood. Grian hauled the body over, cutting carefully into its chest cavity to find the ender pearls. It was always cheaper to harvest his own when possible than to buy them at the rate alchemists wanted.

He examined his jumper before wiping them off in annoyance. It was slashed with black stains anyway and the stuff never washed out.

How many times has Mumbo told me to wear black when I do endermen?

He walked home from the police station, wondering vaguely what he'd do with the rest of the afternoon. Could do another job if it's not too hard - they'd only given him two stacks of diamonds for the enderman. But when he returned it was with a loaf of bread and some other groceries. You're welcome, Mumbo.

He returned the endermite to its little terrarium of endstone and chorus buds with its fellows and spent the afternoon committing himself to writing everything he'd learned about the Eighth Circle in a journal. He profiled each creature he'd met - Joel included - and all the information he'd gathered about them before returning to his letters to decide which job to tackle next.

[bloatedandalone04]

The Break Up - Part 5

Series Masterlist

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

+Tommy’s birthday is completely made up by yours truly as it was never mentioned.

Part Five <3 | Previous Part

June 20th 1985

10:48 AM

Things had gotten worse. You slipped even further behind in your schooling, resulting in you having to take a few weeks of summer to finish up all the past due assignments you had. It was that or they fail you, and that was completely off the table.

  In all honesty, you were embarrassed at yourself for getting too comfortable and not taking your schooling as seriously as you should’ve been. A good education was close to impossible to have in a town like Shadyside, and you were ashamed at the fact that you took it for granted for even a second.

  On top of getting caught up on your school work, you were also putting in more hours at the hospital. Eve had told you that if you were to keep up the hard work you’d been putting in, she’d offer you a job there after you were done with school, as well as pay you for the hours you’ve already worked.

  Your volunteer position became an actual job before you even knew what was happening and it only added to the overbearing weight that was currently on your shoulders. You were grateful, but you were also exhausted.

  It didn’t help that your and Nick’s relationship was on the rocks and having Beth constantly being in your ear about ending it. You loved him more than anything, and you knew that you wanted to be with him for the rest of your life, but you were also young. Maybe you had gone too fast, maybe you were rushing into things. 

  It was a Saturday morning and usually you’d be hanging out with Beth and Emma, but you were stuck doing assignments instead. Beth hadn’t been wanting to do anything other than get drunk as of recently, something to do with her and John fighting more often lately, so you hadn’t seen her in a few days. 

  The break from your sometimes overbearing best friend was something you never knew you needed. She had always been the bossy type, but recently she had become extremely controlling as well.

  You sat across from Emma in the food court at the Shadyside Mall, your eyes scanning over the words in front of you but not actually reading them. Emma leaned back in her chair, admiring her freshly painted red nail polish before she looked at her engagement ring and wedding band, her lips turning upwards into a smile.

  Unbeknownst to her, you watched the whole thing and for a split second felt envious of her. She had found someone in this hellhole of a town who loved her more than anything in the world, and her relationship wasn’t judged or frowned upon, like yours. She was one of the lucky ones. “Hey, Em?” You ask and she looks up at her, the smile still gracing her face as she hummed. You paused for a second, trying to figure out the right words. “How…did you know that Steven was the one? Was there something he did? Like a gesture or something?”

  Emma looked caught off guard by your questions and leaned over, folding her hands on the table. “You know Steven, he’s not much of a romantic guy,” she started. “So, no, there was no big gesture or anything like that.”

  “Then what was it?” You asked, your attention now completely taken away from your study book in front of you. 

  “It was more like…a feeling,” she answered, spinning the band around her finger. “There’s this one look that he gives you and you know that you want to be looked at like that for the rest of your life. At least that’s how it was for me. There was this one night where we had planned out everything perfectly, and then when everything ended up completely falling apart, he just looked over at me as if everything would be okay. That’s when I knew that I wanted him forever. Our night had been ruined, but we were so happy anyway.”

  You nodded, your eyes glancing down at her rings. 

  “Why? You’re thinking Nick’s not the one?” Her question made your eyes shoot up to meet hers, your brows furrowed. “Sorry, but I’ve noticed how distant you’ve been lately. That kinda thing can hurt a relationship more than you think.”

  “No, it’s not that,” you trail off, looking around the food court. Nick was across the room, standing in line for the drink stand. You make eye contact for a split second before you’re looking away. “Whenever Nick looks at me, I feel the same way about him that you do with Steven. I get all nervous around him and my heart races every time he enters the room. I know he’s the one for me, but I don’t know if it’s the right time.”

  “Uh oh,” Emma said. “Did Beth get to you, too?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, did Beth give you the whole ‘you’re too young to know what you want’ speech?” Emma asked. “Because she did the exact same thing to me on the ride home from dinner back in February, right after I told you all about my engagement.”

  “Really?” You weren’t all that surprised. Beth was never one to mind her own business. “She gave me a speech, just not that one.”

  “Don’t let her get to your head, okay? It’s your life, not hers,”

  You shake your head and sigh, playing with your fingers. “It’s not like that. I’ve been falling behind in class and with this position at the hospital, it’s been even harder to keep up and I’m just…” you trail off, looking at the scattered papers that littered the small table. “I’m just stressed.”

  “Try not to worry so much,” Emma said, reaching over to place her hand on your wrist. “Everything is going to be fine.”

  You smile at her, though her words did very little to put you at ease. 

  “Man,” she said, looking over at Nick. “That is one frustrated looking boyfriend.”

  You follow her eyes and look at Nick. He was normally good at hiding his emotions, especially in public, but he wasn’t doing the best job at hiding his annoyance at the moment. “Yeah….I’ve been kinda avoiding him,”

  At this Emma’s eyes widen, taking her hand off you. “You what?”

  “Yeah,” you sigh again. “I feel bad, but whenever he’s over at my place, I never get any work done and he’s always asking me if I’m okay. Recently he’s been annoyed that I’m always at the hospital and not with him… it’s just too much for me right now.”

  “I get that, I really do, but don’t push him away just because he cares,” Emma tells you. “He’s a good guy, Y/n. You know that.”

  “I know,” you say, sitting up once you see Nick walking over to the table, a tray of drinks in his hand. “I just wish he understood how stressed I am. I mean, he’s Nick Goode. He’s never had to work this hard for anything. I feel like he doesn’t understand how hard things can be for people who aren’t him.”

  “Have you told him that?”

  “I don’t want to hurt his feelings,”

  Emma sighed. “You can’t keep things bottled up like this, Y/n. It’ll break you beyond repair,”

  “Yeah, I know,” you said quietly. “We’re meeting up later this week. I’m gonna talk to him about it then.”

  “Good. And, hey, if all fails, you still have me,” Emma smiled at you just as Nick reached the table, handing her a pink colored drink. “Thank you.”

  He nodded at her and sat down next to you, sliding you your drink. “Thanks, baby,” you say and grab the side of his face as you kiss his cheek quickly. You tried to ignore the fact that you hadn’t been affectionate to him much recently and the quick peck showed that. 

  He smiled at you before you went back to reading your notes, missing the look he gave Emma and the comforting shrug she gave back to him.

-

June 24th, 1985

12:53 PM

Nick had never been more annoyed and pissed off in his entire life.

  Things were going great, and now it’s as if he was dating a ghost. How did things go so wrong? He tried to think back to when he could’ve possibly fucked up so bad to the point of you feeling the need to avoid him like you were currently doing, but came up with nothing. What had gone wrong?

  He remembered the exact moment he noticed a change in you. It was the night of Emma’s wedding. Things were going fine, until Beth decided to set you up with Luke just to get on his nerves. It didn’t work out in the end, because it was Nick who took you home, after all.

  It was definitely when Beth took you away for a talk that you had drastically changed in so little time. 

  He rolled his eyes. Of course Beth had something to do with it. And just when he thought he couldn’t hate her any more than he already did.

  Nick hadn’t spoken to her since the night at your apartment where she ripped into him as if she knew him better than you did. He had nothing nice to say to her after that night and he swore to himself that he’d keep his thoughts about her to himself, for your sake, but this was ridiculous. Beth was a massive threat to his relationship with you, and he has had more than enough of her games.

  You had told him to come over and help you finish up some assignments, but how could he do that when it seems as if you weren’t home? He gave up on knocking and went to leave when he paused at the top of the stairs, his eyes on the door next to yours. 

  307. Beth Roberts. 

  He walked over to the paint-chipped door and knocked loudly, waiting for your best friend to open it. She did, and when she saw who it was, her expression turned hostile and her eyes squinted. “What do you want?”

  “What do I want?” He repeated the question, looking down at her. She was a lot shorter than him, much like you, and he could tell that his height intimidated her, but she didn’t let it show. “I want you to tell me what you said to her.”

  He didn’t have to say your name for her to know who he was talking about. Her smirk proved that point quite well. “Said to who?”

  “You know who,” his voice was deep and told her that he was in no mood to put up with her bullshit. 

  “I can’t say I do,” she hummed, leaning against the door frame. 

  “Beth, I am not going to do this with you right now,” he said, his voice dripping with masked anger. She opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off by slamming his hand roughly on the frame, just inches from the top of her head. He wished he could take joy in seeing her jump slightly, but he was beyond pissed off. “What the fuck did you say to her?”

  The question was asked loudly and Beth looked around to make sure no one peeked their heads out of their doors to see what was going on. “Would you keep your voice down?” She muttered, her confidence leaving her by the second. “I don’t know what you’re talking about and I don’t have a damn thing to prove to you. Maybe Y/n’s finally realising that you’re not good enough for her.”

  Nick stared at her, his face void of any emotion. He leaned down so his face was mere centimetres from hers, making Beth hold back her want to cower away from him. “I swear,” he said. “If I find out that you said anything to her about me and our relationship, I’ll find you and I’ll make you wish you never even met her.”

  Beth’s eyes widened at the threat and she stepped away from him and into her apartment. 

  Nick gave her one last look before he turned around and walked down the stairs without another word. 

  Beth stood there for a few seconds, her heart beating wildly as she tried to calm herself down. She closed the door and locked it, grabbing her half empty bottle of wine and picking up her phone, dialing your number. 

-

6:46 PM

You sighed as you entered your apartment, tossing your keys onto the counter and throwing your jacket over the chair. 

  While you were in the middle of taking notes from Eve at the hospital, you were paged to the front desk where you were told that someone had called and asked for you. 

  It was Beth with some rather interesting news about your boyfriend. She sounded drunk and completely out of it, so you weren’t sure how much of it was actually true. She rambled on about how your home phone went to voicemail so she just had to call you at work. 

  It was embarrassing, to say the least. She had called you at work to complain about Nick when she could’ve waited until you got home. You could only imagine how unprofessional it looked to see you comforting your best friend over the phone instead of paying attention to what Eve was saying. 

  You changed into a pair of grey sweatpants and a black tank top, sitting down at the table to go over the notes you took today. Just as you began reading, the sound of knocks were heard. “It’s open,” you call out without looking up from your book. The door opened and your boyfriend walked in, his eyes meeting yours almost instantly. You furrowed your brows, not knowing who you were expecting, but definitely not it being him. “I told you I’d see you later this week.”

  “I can’t wait that long,” he said, walking over to you and leaning down slightly to place his hands on the back of the chair across from yours. “I missed you.”

  You sigh as you place your hand on your forehead. “Why didn’t you try to use the key I gave you?”

  “I didn’t know if you were home,” he replied. “I stopped by earlier and waited for a bit. I didn’t know you had a shift today.” He sounded bitter and it fueled something inside of you.

  “So I heard,” you say and watch as he gives you a confused face. “Beth called me at work and told me you went and saw her today. Said you threatened her?”

  “I’d hardly say I threatened her,” Nick said and shrugged the situation off. He sounded so nonchalant that you were beginning to believe that Beth made things sound worse than it was. “Scared her, maybe.”

  “Really,” you squint your eyes at him, looking back down at your notes.

  “Baby, you know I’m not like that,” he said, reaching over to grab your hand. “She’s lying.”

  Before his hand could make contact with yours, you pull away and sit up. “Okay, I can’t do this right now,” you look up at him. “I have to go over these notes so I don’t lose my job.”

  “Will you put the book down for two seconds?” Nick asked, frustration seeping from his words as he tugged at his hair. “I feel like I haven't seen you in forever.”

  Maybe you were acting irrational, but you couldn’t help it. You were running on very little sleep and the call from Beth had made you angrier than you thought you’d be. “So you go to Beth?”

  Nick looked at you with an expression you’ve seen many times on him, but not when it was directed at you. He looked livid. “I have to get updates on you somehow,” he muttered, dropping his head so you couldn’t see his face. “You don’t give me any.”

   “I need space, Nick,” you say, your brain not catching up to the words quick enough. “I’ve been so busy and stressed lately.”

  “How would I know that?” He asked, his eyes angry as he stared at you. “You don’t tell me anything anymore.”

  “Nick, please,” you said quietly, putting your elbows on the table and tangling your fingers in your hair out of frustration. “Just give me a little time to figure things out.”

  Nick’s ears were beginning to burn as he felt his chest tighten with anger. “Figure things out?” He mumbled. “Or figure us out?”

  “Nick,” you pleaded, having a bad feeling about where this conversation was going. “Please, let’s talk about this another time.”

  He stood straight up. “No, we’re talking about this right now,” he said. “I don’t see you for days and the one time I do actually see you, you want space? How the fuck am I supposed to be okay with this?”

  His tone was somehow making you stress out more and you shakily sighed, trying to calm yourself down to be able to think rationally. “Nick,” you say quietly. “I think we need to spend some time apart. Just until I get caught up on things.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “No,” you weren’t sure where this was going, but you pushed past your nervousness and sat up straighter, refusing to back down now.  “Please, just go.”

  “Fine,” he muttered, making no move to leave. “Can I see you sometime this week, then?”

  “Yeah, maybe,”

  “Maybe?” He wasn’t getting the hint and you were growing more frustrated by the second. “Come the fuck on.”

  “Jesus Christ, Nick,” you said, your voice raising slightly. “I can’t do this anymore. I need a break.”

  “From what?”

  “From everything,” you were quiet again. “From you.”

  “You’re breaking up with me?” He asks angrily, backing away from you.  “Because I want to actually see my girlfriend every once in a while?”

  “You don’t get it,” was all you could mutter as you refused to make eye contact with him. 

  “Enlighten me, then,”

  At your silence, Nick got his answer. You didn’t want him anymore. 

  “Fine,” he said, pushing aside any rational thoughts as he finally let his frustration out. He always had been too stubborn for his own good. “Fucking, fine. That’s great. First, you tell me you need space and now you’re telling me you want a break less than two seconds after?”

  “It’s not like that,” you tried to reach out to him and make him stay so you could properly talk about it. 

  “Whatever,” he mumbled, pulling away from you and walking towards the door. “Good luck with your school work. I hope you do fucking fantastic.”

  “Nick-”

  “No,” he cut you off, opening the door and turning one last time to look at you. “Like you’ve been wanting to say since I got here, we’re done.”

  At that, you shoot up from the chair, your brows furrowing. “Nick, that’s not-” you shake your head, beginning to walk over to him. “Nick, wait, that’s not what I meant.”

  Before you could reach him, he turned around and slammed the door shut behind him. You stood there for a few seconds, trying to wrap your mind around exactly what just happened. At the realisation that your relationship was over, tears immediately formed in your eyes and began to fall as you dropped to your knees. Your hand came up to cover your mouth as you sobbed, all the stress and weight of the past few weeks finally becoming too much for you to handle.

-

April 16th, 1985

5:32 PM

“Okay, Beth, calm down,” you say, rubbing your forehead with your hand as you listen to her ramble over the phone. 

  “I can’t!” She said then went quiet for a few seconds. “You know…I’d feel better if you came over and hung out with me for a bit.”

  “Beth,” you sighed. “Nick and I have plans tonight. You know that.”

  Just as you said that, Nick walked into your apartment, takeout bag in one hand and the spare key you gave him in the other. You gave him a quick wave then held up a finger, signaling that you’d be done in a second. 

  He just nodded and placed the bag on the counter, beginning to empty it.

  “I know, it’s too much to ask,” Beth mumbled. “I get it. I’ll be fine.”

  “No, wait,” you say, stopping her from hanging up. You look over at Nick, giving him an apologetic smile while he gives you a confused look. “Why don’t you join us?”

  Nick’s eyes widened as he opened his mouth to protest. 

  “Really? Are you sure?”

  “Why not?” You say, hiding your disappointment that she actually agreed, but also knowing that she needed a friend right now. “Come over in a few.”

  “Okay! See you soon,”

  You hang up and help Nick take out the food, setting it up on the counter. The whole time, you felt his eyes on you, no doubt ticked off at the intrusion of your date night. “What?” You ask and he just shakes his head. “Beth and John had another fight and she doesn’t want to be alone right now.”

  “You shouldn’t let Beth walk all over you,” he said casually, grabbing the plates. You were caught off guard at what he said, his nonchalant tone not being what you expected. 

  “She doesn’t walk all over me,” you tried to defend Beth and yourself, but who were you trying to kid? Nick knew you better than you knew yourself. 

  “She does, baby,” he replied. “And you let her.”

  You shake your head. “She’ll only stay for a bit, then I’ll send her on her way,” you reach over and wrap your arms around his middle, kissing his shoulder through the material of his t-shirt. “After that, it’s just you and me.”

  Well that was a lie. Beth stayed the night and slept on your couch, successfully ruining Nick’s night with you and proving his point of her walking all over you. You tried to get her to go home but she whined and said she didn’t want to be alone, thus resulting in her spending the rest of the night by your side, making Nick sit across the room from you. 

  It was frustrating, for you and Nick, but what could you do? She was your best friend and she needed you.

  You’d have the rest of your life to have date nights with Nick, anyway. 

-

July 2nd, 1985

4:56 PM

An old, sappy romance movie played on the TV as you wrapped the blanket around your body tighter, leaving no room for any air to touch below your shoulders. 

  You knew you should get up and be productive, but you wallowed in self pity instead. 

  Fuck, you missed him. 

  Why hadn’t you fought harder to get him to stay? Why did you push him away in the first place? Why were you such an idiot sometimes?

  You could only continue to lie on the couch for a few more minutes before you had to go to the hospital, and that thought alone filled you with dread. You quickly realised that Nick really was one of the few beacons of light in your life. He’d been out of your life for less than two weeks and you felt as though you lost a part of yourself. 

  How tragic that story turned out to be.

  A few more minutes pass before you finally get up and change into dark blue scrubs, tying your hair into a low bun as you look for your keys. 

  Three knocks were heard against your door before it opened and in walked Beth.

  You hadn’t talked to her much since she called you at work, something you were still ticked off about. “Hi, Y/n/n,” she said as she made herself comfortable on the couch. “So, John and I had another fight. Can you believe it? Do you want to come get drunk with me at Marley’s?”

  You stopped looking for your keys to glare at her, gesturing to your current attire. “Does it look like I can do that right now?” You muttered, grabbing your bag and slinging the strap over your shoulder. 

  “Jesus,” Beth held her hands up in defense. “What’s wrong with you?”

  A shaky sigh leaves your lips as you close your eyes. “Nick and I broke up,” you hadn’t told her yet and the poorly hidden smirk on her face was the exact reason why.

  “Awh, honey, I’m so sorry-”

  “Don’t bother, okay?” you cut her off, spotting your keys on the kitchen chair. “I know you hated him and were just waiting for the day he broke my heart. Well, that day was a week and a half ago, and it was my own fault.”

  You walk over to the door and swing it open, not bothering to shut it behind you as you knew Beth would follow you. “Oh, don’t say that,” she said, following you out into the hall. “You weren’t meant to be. That’s not your fault.”

  You stopped walking and turned to face her. “I actually think we were, but I fucked up and pushed him away,” you muttered. “All thanks to you.”

  She grabbed your arm as you turned away. “Excuse me?” She roughly let go of you, crossing her arms over her chest. “How is any of that because of me?”

  You rolled your eyes. “Come on, Beth. You had it out for him from the second you saw him,” you say and this time Beth rolls her eyes. “You never gave him a chance! You were constantly in my ear, telling me to break up with him every four minutes.”

  “Please,” she scoffed. “It’s not my fault your taste in men sucks. He was the one who was never truthful. He was manipulating you the entire time! I can’t believe I thought you were smart enough to realise that.”

  That made any and all words die in your throat. So this is what she thinks of you? She thinks you’re stupid and clueless. 

  This was the last time you let her walk over you. Fuck, you should’ve listened to Nick. “You’re right, Beth,” you start. “I’m stupid and that’s why I got into college while you sit at home all day and get drunk. I’m stupid and that’s why I got offered a full time job at the hospital after I finish school. And I am so stupid for not realising soon enough how stuck up and opinionated you are.”

  Beth opens her mouth in shock, but no words come out, and steps away from you as if your words physically hurt her.

  “But the thing I was most stupid for was letting go of a great boyfriend and an even better guy,” you finish and turn around, walking down the stairs and ending the conversation there. 

  Beth watches you go, anger, guilt and sadness running through her body. 

  Finally, you were beginning to stand up for yourself. Finally you told Beth that she doesn’t have a say on everything in your life. Finally you were relieved of the pressure that came with being her best friend.

  Was this repairable? You didn’t know. But at the moment, you didn’t care. It was time you stopped letting people walk all over you.

-

July 4th, 1985

6:43 PM

The cemetery was surprisingly peaceful in the evening. This is where the dead go to rest, after all. 

  You walk through the seemingly endless rows of headstones until you find his, the stone marked red with graffiti. 

  Thomas Slater. 

  March 17th, 1960 - July 19th, 1978

  Son. Brother. Friend. 

  You reach out and run your fingers over the word brother before putting your palm flat against the stone, closing your eyes for a few seconds. 

  He’s probably so disappointed in you. It had been months since you last visited him, and to be honest, you were just as disappointed in yourself. 

  You hold a single tulip in your free hand, admiring the pretty flower as you think over your words. What do you say to someone who might not even be listening? 

  With a heavy sigh, you place the tulip onto the dirt beneath you, knowing that it would soon, too, be among the dead. “I don’t know if you can hear me,” you start, looking over the headstone. “Tommy…..things are bad again.”

  The last time you visited your brother was back in April, when you first started falling behind in class. You realised that you only ever came to talk to him when something bad was happening or was going to happen. Like now, with both your schooling and now Beth. It was a habit you needed to change. 

  “I know it’s been a while since I last came to visit you. I wish I had an excuse, but I don’t,” you shakily sigh, reaching up to quickly wipe away the few tears that had fallen. “I feel like I’m failing. I feel like I’m letting everyone down. Mom, dad, you. You were always so proud of your little sister.” 

  Your hand held onto the necklace that he had given you days before he left for camp, knowing that he’d miss your actual birthday. The last thing he had ever given you.  

  “I sometimes forget that I’m older than you now. But I’ll always be your little sister. Always,” you don’t bother to wipe away the tears at this point. The cemetery was abandoned, leaving you alone with hundreds of dead people, so no one (alive) would see you cry. It was oddly comforting. “My birthday is in a few days. I’ll be twenty one….you’d been twenty five.”

  You reach over and attempt to wipe away the red spray paint, hardly being successful. 

  “I’m gonna make things right. I’m gonna do better,” you wipe the red paint onto your jeans. “I want you to still be proud of me.”

  After a failed attempt at wiping away the paint, you read the simple word that hurt your heart more than anything. 

  Monster.

  “You weren’t a monster, Tommy. You were the best brother anyone could ever have, and I was lucky to have had you in my life. I’d do anything to have you here again,” your voice broke at the end, and you could only imagine how broken you looked in general. 

  You read the headstone once more, your eyes lingering on the date of his death. 

  “I miss you, Tommy. I love you,” you stand up, brushing the dirt off from your knees. You step forward and rest your hand on the top of the grave. “I’ll visit again soon, I promise.”

  With that, you turn around and walk away, not being able to bring yourself to glance back as you exit the cemetery. 

[freetheshit-outofyou]

R&R Anon

I swear by everything I hold precious that this story is true.

The summer before my freshman year I was at my desk, writing, when I heard the screaming of a little girl and dogs barking. She was crying, yelling out "HELP! HELP!".

The neighbors directly behind had two Rottweilers they let run free. The two dogs had corned the little girl living next door to the dog owners.

Without thinking I was up and into my parents room where my pop's kept his Series 80 Colt 1911.

I was good with this pistol. Beer and soda cans at 50 yards. I trained hard.

Slapping in an mag I jacked a round. Just FMJs in that day. Nothing fancy.

The girl kept screaming and the dogs kept barking.

Out of my parents room, down the hallway, across the dinning room, out the sliding glass door, and across the deck.

The girl was still untouched, the dogs hanging back. I lept the fence, jumped over a ditch, and hit the other side running.

I didn't feel fear. Instead I was calculating odds and angels. Judging my skill with a 1911 to the jumping bodies of dogs and the girl, fully aware that one or both of the dogs could turn on me with the first shot. My chances against them were low and any shooting I did would be wild. I'd have to take bites and hope it would draw the dogs off the girl.

Slowing I took a modified Weaver stance, sights on the nearest dog and began shouting. "GET AWAY! GET AWAY FROM THE GIRL!" Or something of the like.

The dogs broke and ran. I didn't have to shoot them. I took the girl home and did the same.

By evening word has spread and people came by to shake my hand. They knocked on the door and told my dad how brave a son he had. The girls parents brought food.

The dogs were taken away

I'll never forget that 45. Blued with polished sides, Pachmyer grips, big, fat, combat sights on it. I'd painted the front sight with day glow orange. The hammer was back as I ran and jumped, one in the pipe, no safety.

It was one of the best things I've done in my miserable life.

All we can do in life is what we can do, you did that and I salute you for it. (Man, that is one convoluted sentence.)