#hello tag stalker what are you doing reading all that

[chlorinecake]

If it's possible, could you make a yandere enhypen story, where the reader usually goes out late at night to a convenience store for some late night snacks, but some pervert tries her, but one of the members had been following her and help her, I'm sorry if it doesnt make any sense but yeah...😀 (recently my delusions have been getting to me)

“convenient chances” 🎱 

pairing: stalker!yandere!enhypen x afab!reader

cw: harassment, violence, mentions of smoking, paranoia/anxiety, language, kidnapping, bad-ish ending lol

wc: 3.1k — read part ll and lll here

LIKE A DUNGEON with fear cementing every corner, you struggle to savor the silence in your waking life.

Doubting all and believing none, your close friend Sunoo convinced you that your nervous aches and night sweats were a mere result of paranoia. He always judged the way you’d peek over your shoulder in public as if waiting to be attacked.

Clicking sounds from your window startled your rest during the night, with nightmares of seven tall hooded strangers blinding your judgement.

You're sure everyone's experienced the phenomenon of “gaze perception” at least once in their lives, in which a person might sense or assume that a pair of predatory eyes are stalking them from afar.

You didn’t like to use the word trauma to define your past experiences, but this wasn’t your first time feeling like a cloud of trouble waited to pour down on you. At this point, all you could do was hope that your intuition wasn’t right this time.

It was only a few months ago when you broke up with your abusive ex-boyfriend, Jay. The memories still linger as if they occurred yesterday, freshly cryptic in your mind. From your point of view, he started off as a charming casual acquaintance, which soon developed into a crush and then a toxic relationship. He outlined a list of rules for you to follow when he was away, ordering you around like a child. Anytime you even came close to breaking one of his orders, he’d beat the shit out of you, saying that his rage was out of love.

From Jay’s point of view, you weren’t just an obsession, but a belonging—his favorite humanoid toy to play with. He threatened that if you ever left him, he’d come back for you one day, saying that he’d never stop watching you.

And so, you moved. Not far, but a good distance away. You didn’t feel protected anymore in your usual environment. Though, there was one place in which you felt completely safe—free from watchful eyes and hostile hands. It was the tatty old convenience store a few blocks from where you live. The place hadn’t developed much since what appeared to be a decade or two ago, but they always supplied the most tasty, high quality snacks you could get your hands on.

As silly as it may sound, the fallout shop was your haven, and you grew particularly fond of shopping there late at night when it was less crowded.

You walked passed the familiar electronic doors, the fluorescent ceiling lights sparkling off of the bleach-mopped tiles. The usually uplifting radio station was replaced with the chilling whoosh of air circulating through the vents.

“Hello! Welcome to Goldman’s 24-hour convenience,” a friendly accented voice chimed. “Hello,” you returned with a nod, a bit confused by the new face. The usual cashier was an elder women by the name of Mandy. Her laughter alone could make some of your darkest nights glimmer again.

The young man wore a name tag on his dark blue collared shirt: Jake. You couldn’t help but wonder why Mandy wasn’t working her usual night shift, but you didn’t care enough to interrogate the seemingly content boy.

Picking up a hand basket, you explored the aisle's shelves in search for something savory or sweet to snack on. Your gaze swiveled ahead of you before landing on the sight of two hooded strangers blocking your path. This time, a bit of their faces showed, revealing the devious smirks that spoke so many silent words through their sealed lips:

You can run, but you can’t hide from us, ____. For as long as we live, you’re not allowed to feel safe anywhere.

Goosebumps sprouted on the surface of your skin, nerves dancing around in your fingers until they became wobbling rods. It’s almost like you forgot to breathe due to the overwhelming terror, feeling frozen from within as the plastic basket slipped from your grasp, a loud clatter echoing throughout the store.

You remembered all of the horrible things Jay said he would do to you once he found you again. The bruises you concealed with makeup that Jay referred to as his "strawberry kisses” would have nothing on what you felt was coming your way.

“Are you okay, miss?” A kind male voice asked, snatching you from your trance and back to reality. You turned to meet the man behind you, revealing his concerned yet warm features. He picked up the basket you dropped, still processing that your mind successfully tricked you into seeing something that wasn’t actually there.

“Yes, I’m alright, t-thank you,” you smiled but it didn’t reach your eyes, looking more awkward than reassuring.

He pressed three finger's against your forehead, “I don’t think you’re being honest with me,” he frowned, your hot and damp forehead telling him that something was wrong. “I’m sorry, I haven’t even introduced myself yet,” he stuck out one hand for you to shake and the other to pass you back your basket. “My name is Heeseung,” he smiled, “I’m new in town with an affinity for convenience stores.”

“____, with an affinity to drop flimsy baskets in public,” you replied, suddenly feeling at ease from the humor. You started trailing to the ramen section and Heeseung was walking behind you. If it wasn’t for his kindness earlier, you’d probably be freaking out about how close he was. You reached for a spicy udon noodle pack that came with dehydrated tofu and seaweed sheets. Meanwhile, Heeseung grabbed a can of Spam and chicken flavored ramen.

“Speaking of your liking for convenience stores, I come here almost every night and I’ve never seen you before.“

“Well, yeah, I’m usually here earlier in the day. I just happened to need some gas and got hungry while waiting, so I decided to stop by for my favorites,” he peered into your basket, "You might wanna get some milk with those, too. It's ungodly how spicy they are!"

"I know, right? They're just so delicious, I can't resist them..."

"Still, Sapporo Ichiban instant noodles are the best! They always cook perfectly. Never too soft or too firm. It's my comfort food, honestly. I wanna hug the person who created them," he replied passionately.

"Eh, you're just gonna ruin 'em anyways."

He gave you a double look, "Are you passively judging my cooking skills or fat shaming me?"

"Neither. I'm shaming that pink block of salt you're gonna punish your organs with."

He scoffed, "This anti-Spam movement is outrageous! I'm starting an online protest where you'll be the number one convert."

"As if I'd ever try that...stuff," you rejected.

"Welp. More for me, I guess," he mumbled, digging into his jacket pocket.

“Dammit, I forgot my wallet in my car,” he said, placing his basket high up on the shelf. “If you see anyone try to take my stuff, kick ‘em in the shin for me,” he said before running out of the shop.

Analyzing your surroundings, you noticed that a few groups of shoppers and some solo snackers began raiding the bread aisle. You distracted yourself by heading to the refrigerator section, considering Heeseung’s recommendation of getting a smooth beverage to accompany your spicy noodles, tossing in a pack of strawberry flavored Pocky's on your way.

That’s when you felt an arm wrap around your waist, pulling you in before giving your head a sniff, his nose was wet and cold like a dog as he inhaled your scent. “What the hell are you doing?” You barked, pushing the creepy stranger away.

He was a middle aged man with a receding hairline and a few scars decorating his thin chapped lips. You wondered how many of those scares came from women he tried that “arm around the waist” shit on.

“Sorry, doll. I’m a hugger and figured you might've needed one,” he grinned, revealing the gnarly set of teeth that lined his grey gums. You couldn't tell if it was his foul breath or filthy clothes that smelled more like smoke. Either way, you were thoroughly disgusted by him.

“Well, you should learn to ask before throwing yourself on people,” you retorted, reaching for a container of banana milk.

“You like swallowing bananas, cutie? I bet I could force four of 'em down that pretty mouth of yours,” he slithered while adjusting himself in his pants.

What the hell is wrong with this guy, you thought to yourself.

You tried to ignore his lunacy, only for him to grip your ass like a stress ball, landing a harsh slap across the curve of your jeans. You yelped at the sting, your own words being caught in your throat from the shocking act. You couldn’t believe that this freak actually just did that to you.

He met your eyes with a wink, smelling his hand as if you just provided him with an expensive perfume sample, "You got a lover at home, sweetheart?"

Tears dared to pour from your rage-ridden eyes as you balled your fists so tight, your bones might break. That's when a protective figure filled your blurry peripheral vision, stepping in front of you to block the man off as he tried grabbing you again, pushing him with such a force that he lost his balance.

“The hell do you think you’re doing, y'scrawny mother fucker,” he growled, pulling up is pants.

“You can’t do that kind of sick shit to people, pervert! Now get the hell outta here or I'll call the police,” the younger boy fought back.

“I was just trying to have some fun, kiddo. Ain’t nothin' wrong with that. I bet honey doll misses me already,” the older man went on, licking at his lower lip.

“I’ll knock every last rotting tooth from your mouth if you don’t leave in the next five seconds-"

“Hey, what’s going on over here?” Jake asked in the middle of the commotion, the older man already fleeing the scene. Jake looked at the younger boy first before eventually meeting your eyes. You wish you could hide how shaken up you felt. The container of milk was bleeding out its strong banana scent on the once spotless floor, tears finally streaming down your cheeks.

“Oh my God, Jungwon, what happened,” Heeseung came running over, asking the boy who defended you. “It was nothing,” you interrupted before Jungwon could answer, the three boys standing dumbfounded around you in a puddle of banana milk. “Do you need a ride-" “Don’t worry about me,” your voice cracked in embarrassment.

Is there any way to explain how the world made you ashamed of your own tears?

You left your basket behind, apologizing to Jake who had to clean up the sticky mess. You didn’t wanna leave just yet, afraid that the older guy might be waiting for you outside, so you went to the ladies restroom instead to call your friend Sunoo.

“____?”

You cleared the lump in your throat before answering, “Sunoo,” you began shakily, “I need you to come and pick me up from Goldman's.”

“You sound terrible, is everything okay? You’re worrying me, what happened?”

“I’m sorry, Sun. Everything’s okay, I just really need you right now.”

“____,” he sighed. You suddenly felt guilty for even calling him.

“Sunoo, if you can’t make it, I won’t be mad at you,” you said in between the silence, trying to encourage him to make a choice.

“I-I can’t, well, I can, but, not soon, at least. I’m only an hour away, if you’re willing to wait that long.” The pity in his voice made you wanna cry all over again. Looking at the time on your phone, it was six minutes til midnight, and you refused to haul your best friend out on the road this late. “No, that’s alright, Sunoo. I’ll just call an Uber.”

His side of the phone fell quiet for a moment. “____, I know how much you hate Uber's. Don't do that to yourself because of me."

"I'll be okay, Sun, just get yourself some rest."

He paused before asking, "Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Of course! Call me when you get home!”

You finished up in the bathroom, mentally preparing yourself to face the strangers beyond the not-so-comforting walls of the restroom. To your surprise, Heeseung and Jungwon were still in the store. Huddled around Jake at the checkout counter, the three of them took loud sips from steaming cups of ramen. “Hey, ____,” Heeseung began, resting his snack on the counter. “We could help you file a report against that guy, if you want.”

Jungwon met your eyes with his own sincere ones, “He should pay for the way he treated you.” Jake put your basket from earlier on the counter, dry items taking the place of the previously wet ones.

“Do you still want these," he asked shyly. After everything that happened, you felt empty in more than one way. Some warm broth and noodles is exactly what your body needed at the moment. You nodded, handing Jake a $20 bill. Beeping sounds immediately met your ears as he scanned your items with a strange haste. You looked back to Heeseung and Jungwon.

“Getting the police involved will only make it harder for me to forget this ever even happened. Thank you for your concern, though,” you smile at the humble pair before they took the final gulps from their ramen cups before discarding them.

“Here’s your change,” Jake chirped, handing you the plastic bag of goodies. “Thank you,” you bowed, heading to the exit.

“Y'sure you don't need a ride?” Jungwon asked. You flashed him your phone screen. “Uber,” was all you said before walking into the black of the night, the sliding doors closing behind you.

According to your smartphone, you should expect your chauffeur, Sunghoon, to arrive shortly in a black truck with tinted windows. The vehicle came speeding through the parking lot, a chill wind hitting your features. The truck was so dark, that it almost blended into the night. He rolled down the window, looking you up and down.

"Name?"

"Uh, ____," you said, his blunt question catching you off guard.

"Get in," he replied, directing a thumb to the back seat, unlocking the door as you slid in, bumping into another passenger. Immediately caught by his dark eyes, the boy waved slightly, muttering a deep “Welcome aboard,” before fixing his gaze out the window again. The truck sat idly as Sunghoon delayed taking off, exchanging a few hushed words to the guy sitting in the front passenger's seat.

Click.

The backseat doors opened from both ends, Heeseung, Jungwon, and Jake joining you in the black vehicle. "Scoot over, Niki," Jungwon complained, trying to get comfortable in the crammed space. That's when you saw one last person join you all in the truck, his face capturing the moonlight like a thief.

"Sunoo?! W-what are you doing here? I thought you were an hour away!" All he did was frown in response. He always made that face whenever he was hiding something from you. "Sunoo," you pressed, nudging his shoulder.

"Oh please, would you just shut the hell up already," the hostile driver growled at you.

You screwed your eyes brows in confusion, "What's going on here," you inquired, now feeling anxiety start to creep up on you.

"The very thing I warned you about before you abandoned me," the front passenger bit back.

That voice. You knew exactly who it belonged to.

It was Jay, your looney ex-lover, sitting right in front of you. An angry yet pitiful scowl contaminated his handsome features.

You pushed through Heeseung, reaching for the door handle, only for Niki, the quietest yet scariest one, to snatch your wrist, pulling you into his tantalizing grip. "Let me go," you yelped, only for Jungwon to harshly cover your mouth.

Screech.

Sunghoon pulled off at a dangerous speed, causing your bodies to shake in the truck. Heeseung crossed his legs cooly as if he wasn't just casually talking with you in the store, “So when do we get to have fun with her, again? It’s not like she did any good entertaining me through conversation.”

Jake rolled his eyes at Heeseung, “I could’ve used your enthusiasm when I had to stuff that fat old chick in the freezer. Alone. On top of that, I had to mop the floor quintillion times before the blood stains got out.”

“At least you’d make a good house husband,” Sunghoon joked.

You felt your heart sink to the pit of your stomach at Jake’s confession: He killed Mandy.

"I'm sorry, ____," Sunoo whispered, fighting back tears as he hid his face from you.

Everything was starting to make sense now.

The visions of seven hooded boys.

The clicking sounds you'd hear from outside your window at night.

The way you could never shake the feeling that you were being watched.

Jay’s past words echoed in the back of your mind:

"If you ever decide to leave me, don't ever think that you'll get very far before I catch up. I'll always be watching you."

You bit Jungwon's hand, causing him to retreat his palm from your flushed face. "Sunoo, you betrayed me! You told me that I was paranoid when you knew exactly what was going on behind my back! I felt safe with you...I trusted you! And you fucking lied to me!"

"God, I've had just about enough of her nagging," Niki said, landing a fisted blow across your face. As you faded out of consciousness, Jay tried to soothe your daze.

“Even though I betrayed you and beat you, it was only my funny way of expressing how much I love you. Can’t you see that I did all of that out of love?”

You could still hear Sunoo pleading for your forgiveness in the background as you held onto the last strand of your consciousness.

"I've been watching you for a long time, love. You always try to escape me and I never understood why you just wouldn't listen to me. All I've ever done is love you and try to protect you. This time, I’ll make sure you’ve learned your lesson.”

And that was the last thing you heard before retreating to the vacancy of your mind, floating around in the silence of your oblivion. Left in the hands of seven reckless boys who’d successfully lured you into their cat trap, you didn’t know what to expect once you’d open your eyes, but you knew it wouldn’t be anything good.

In that time, you came to the unsettling conclusion that broken toys were Jay’s favorite, and if you weren’t already broken upon being found, you would be by time he’s done playing with you.

☆ ᴀ/ɴ: in no way, shape, or form does this fanfic intend to romanticize unhealthy relationships or abusive behaviors. i simply write for entertainment and creative purposes. thus, reader discretion is always advised.

☆ ᴘ.ꜱ: special thanks to the fabulous anon who requested this piece! i played around with the plot a bit, but I hope you all enjoyed reading it! if you guys would like a version of this story with a happier ending, let me know in the comments!

☆ taglist (based off of users that personally requested to be on my taglist, my faves, and people that I've noticed interacting with my yandere content) ~

@fanficfactoryfoxxx @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @yngwife @03sunoos @kaykay11sworld @maryismad @gigiramirezsblog @hoonsyo @en-thralled @haechansheart @night-en-shining-armor @cutiejseong

[bueckerrss]

tag, you’re it - m. sturniolo

pairing: stalker ! Matt x OC

warnings: stalking, cursing, pictures being taken without consent.

summary: daisy just moved to a new home in a new town what happens when matt takes interest in her?

the triplets live in boston and aren’t famous during this.

ALL OF THIS IS FAKE! THIS IS PURE FICTION! matt will never do anything that is written in this.

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

LOG IN:

USERNAME:matt******

PASSWORD: ********

open up file 5521?

yes no

FILE OPENED

NAME: Daisy Rose Larson

BIRTHDAY: July 10th, 2004

SIBLINGS: one sister. Alison Larson(12 years old)

PARENTS: Violet and James Larson

Daisy just moved a few houses down from me, she currently lives alone and moved here for college. She is nineteen years old, she loves to read and write she graduated from high school as a valedictorian. from what I could gather she has never had a boyfriend, she takes her studies very seriously.

matt looked away from his screen just in time to see her running around the block like she usually did every day in the afternoons, he ducked down a little to keep a closer look at her without letting her see him.

“MATT!” screamed Nick from the kitchen making matt quickly get up close his laptop and get out of his room “what?” he said looking at nick “i realized that we never properly introduced ourselves to the new girl that moved in a few houses down so we were wondering if you wanted to join us on saying hi” spoke chris while putting on his shoes “yea, i’ll go” replied matt putting his shoes on.

knock knock

the knocking grabs the girls attention as she pauses the show she’s currently watching and heads to the door to check who’s there, three figures are standing outside.

“hello?” she said softly as she opened the door to the three boys in front of her “hi, sorry to show up like this but we’re your neighbors we live a few houses down” nick spoke as he stretched out his hand for her to shake “hi, im daisy nice to meet you…” “nick!” he finished with a smile “these are my brothers matt and chris” he continued pointing at each one “nice to meet you guys come in!” she said opening her door more for the boys to walk in “your house is nice” spoke matt as he took in the layout of the house.

“thank you, i’m still decorating and what not but i’m glad you like it. would you guys like water? lemonade?” the girl asked making her way to the kitchen. “water is fine” matt and nick spoke at the same time “do you have pepsi by any chance?” asked chris getting a glance from matt and nick “what i really want a pepsi right now!” whisper chris to his brothers.

the girl made her way back to them with two waters and two pepsis giving them a smile “here you go water and pepsi”

-

friday march 16.

her house is beautiful she said she needed to decorate more but i genuinely think it looks fine the way she has it right now.

matt added more and more information about the girl as he progressively learned more about her. always keeping his eyes on her every time she left her house he would follow her “to make sure she was safe.”

he would also constantly take pictures of her, she went out for a walk? he was a few steps behind with his camera in hand snapping a photo, she was checking her mail? he was by his window sneaking pictures of her and looking around to make sure nick and chris didn’t catch him.

-

matt quickly made his way into his room locking the door behind him as he made his way into the foot of his bed pushing the floorboard down making it pop up, he pulled out a box with all the pictures he’s taken of her and the pictures of things she’s showed interest in. he added a few more photos he had taken earlier that week before placing it back to its original place.

as the girl opened her door about to leave for work she saw a box no mailing address and no sign from who it was from just her name on the top. she brought it inside deciding she’ll open it after her shift.

i have a spare minute she thought as she grabbed some scissors to open up the box. she gasped once she saw what was inside, a perfume she saw at the mall the week before. but who would buy this for me? i didn’t even mention it to anyone.. she thought. she let it go thinking maybe she let it slip awhile ago. she put it on and headed to work.

and that’s how it was for weeks any time she saw something she liked a week later it will show up on her doorstep. it weirded her out at first but she thought it was probably her parents sending her those things.

april 15.

she seems to really enjoy the gifts i’ve been giving her, she obviously doesn’t know it’s me who is giving them to her. she can’t know. no matter how much i want to tell her it can’t happen. i don’t need another incident like eliana. she seems different tho i don’t think i’ll have a problem with her.

daisy was taking one of her usual afternoon walks when suddenly matt’s car appeared next to her slowing down “hey, i was going out for ice cream wanna join?” he ask her as he kept looking to the road and back to her “um sure todays my cheat day anyway!” she laughed as he stopped for her to get in.

“so where are we going?” she asked as she paused her music “we’re going to tipping cow” “holy shit i’ve heard about that place but never had the opportunity to go!” she said with a smile.

the time they spent together the girl had a smile the whole time making the boy fall even more obsessed in love with her.

during that night once she got dropped off by matt she realized she needed to go grocery shopping. the clock read 10:30pm there’s nothing like going grocery shopping at night. she made her way to the grocery store since it was just a few blocks away from her neighborhood.

she was walking out of the grocery shop with a few bags worth of groceries when she heard footsteps behind her, ignoring them thinking it was her own she continued walking. but her gut feeling made her look behind her to see a man in all black following her. she ran as fast as she could throughout the whole parking lot until she got home.

-

weeks passed and she always had the feeling of being followed even if she wasn’t being followed. things stopped after weeks she finally felt free and not paranoid about constantly being watched.

or so she thought one certain day she was taking one of her usual walks around the neighborhood when she saw him again, the man in all black in front of her she quickly turned around and started running towards her house that was a couple blocks away. as she got in she locked her door and closed her curtains hoping that it would make her invisible.

ring ring

“h-hello?” she hesitantly answered

“you think you could run away from me? think again daisy you can never run away from me.” he spoke his voice deep and hoarse.

before going to sleep she made sure all her doors and windows were locked, she had her curtains closed. she took out the bat her dad had given her as a ‘safety weapon’ in case of emergencies like these.

that night everything was normal. the next morning she went out to check her mailbox when looking at them a certain envelope caught her attention “Daisy Larson” was in bolded letters when she opened it she found weeks worth of pictures of her. from her going on her daily walks to her being in class. she flipped the polaroid and in the bottom was written in red ink “say cheese”.

“say cheese?” she repeated in a whisper when suddenly she felt someone grab her from behind and put a cloth into her mouth. she struggled for a moment before knocking out.

DELETE FILE 5521?

DELETE SAVE

LOG OUT

YES NO

when daisy woke up she couldn’t move her arms and legs were tied up she tried screaming for help but the bandanna tied around her mouth prevented her from making any noise. she looked around the area analyzing it, it looked like an old basement or something similar to that she looked around for anything that could help her get out when her eyes landed on the wall in front of her in thick red bold letters was written:

TAG, YOU’RE IT. ;)

—————————————————————

hope y’all enjoy this um it was based off tag you’re it by melanie martinez (love her to death)

and hopefully this was good idek i feel like it’s rushed iddkkkk 😣😣😣

tags 🏷️: @breeloveschris @sturniolobendystrawsposts @hearts4chris @patscorner @lexisecretaccx @tubl-mc @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloblogs

[svmjaeyvn]

love maze, s.jy.

chapter three pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: tbd (series)

masterlist

add yourself to the taglist here!

genre: college!au, mutual friends, fake dating, smut.

synopsis: an unfortunate encounter, drunken mistakes, and a sort of (definitely) stalker leads jake sim ‘dating’ his best friend’s childhood crush.

or, your life gets intertwined with a rich boy’s in attempt to not get sued by his crazy personal fangirl and like with all good cliches, sex overcomplicates things.

contents: smut, sort of strangers to fuck buddies to lovers pipeline, childhood best friend!jay, mentions of best friend! yunjin, curly haired & mixed reader, uni!au, rich nepo baby!jake, enha frat boys, lots of kissing, fake dating turning into fwb real quick, totally way too into it for it to be fake early on, big booty reader that’s jake’s obsessed with, partying and alcohol use, slight violence, he fell first and harder trope, stem bf & writer gf, (kinda overly) possessive jake, some angst to spice things up, daddy issues, hyper independent reader who struggles with her feelings, fluff and happy ending!!

a/n: hello~ i’ve never been a tumblr girly but i have went through my w*ttpad era back in 2018 so bare with me y’all. this will be a series but not that long (i hope) so pls look forward to it. warning tags will be placed before each “chapter” to specify what to expect. pls pls reblog and interact, i’d love to have feedback and see what your thoughts are. okay! yay, for now enjoy and thank you sm :D

MDNI, 18+

tap below to continue

CHAPTER THREE: CONTRACT

previous masterlist next

word count: 4k

warnings: cursing, mention of slight violence, mention of alcohol, mentions of your drunk self trying to jump jake’s bones, pet names

a/n: omg hi more ppl are starting to read this so exciting how do i do a tag list or whateva

"GET YOUR ASS up," You feel a heavy presence on the top of your head, waking up from the previous alcohol induced slumber that allowed you to stay asleep until the afternoon. Pulling the pillow away from your face which Jay had decided to throw on top of you as a wake up call, you blinked slowly to adjust to the change in light.

Jay stood on the opposite end of the room, folding up the comforter that was previously on the floor with narrowed eyes. His sweats hung low along his hips, his upper half shirtless while his hair had been shaken of the water from his shower, sticking up in a few awkward ways due to his lack of brushing.

"It's 1:30," He speaks up, gesturing toward the digital clock that was hung up along his wall, the modern sleek look of it blending in nicely with his decor.

"My head," You mumble, grimacing as you sat up. A small snort comes from the boy, pointing toward the water bottle and smaller white container on the bedside table.

"Your ass wouldn't stop rolling around last night so I had to sleep on the floor," Jay huffs, picking up the lone pillow he took down with him in the middle of the night. "Should've just let you and Jake hook up, he would've had to dealt with you," He adds on through a mumble, not intending for you to hear but didn't care if you did either way.

Picking up your head, your brows frown as you sat up. Jay lets out a small laugh, your hair sticking up in all directions due to being pressed against the pillows all night and slight smudge to your make up. Rolling your eyes knowing you probably looked as bad as you felt, you pick up the pill bottle and water, popping two into your mouth and swallowing it down with the drink that your body desperately needed to rehydrate.

"What're you talking about?" You finally ask, wincing at the hoarse sound of your voice. Coughing a few times to clear it, Jay watches with a face that displayed his disgust in more ways than one.

"You done?" He asks once you finally still in your fit. With a bored look, you reluctantly nod while he sends you a sarcastic smile back. "You're telling me you don't remember anything from last night?"

Pausing, you attempt to recall the previous events. Everything became a blur after heading to the dance floor, unable to pinpoint what was real or not. "Uh, aside from drinking a lot, no," You shrug, not seeing the problem considering the handful of times you've blacked out, most of which in Jay's care so he should've been used to it. "To be fair, I'm pretty sure I drank a lot of that poison punch Jungwon made—"

With an obviously disgruntled sigh, Jay interrupts you by holding up his phone. You squint, attempting to see before holding out your hand, sending him a pointed look knowing your eye sight wasn't the best. Holding it up close, the video replays and your eyes widen seeing you and Jake on one of couches downstairs, it being undeniable as you're seen on his lap, practically dry humping in the middle of the party that seemed in full swing while making out.

Your mouth falls ajar, horrified by your intoxicated self's actions. You barely even knew Jake, sure you've seen him a few times and sure, he sort of (definitely) saved you but that didn't open up a connection. Did it?

"Do you remember trying to fight Bianca James too?"

You blinked, tilting your head in confusion. "Who?"

Jay runs a hand across his face, turning away not knowing what was worse: you not knowing the millionaire trust fund baby's name or the fact that you didn't remember almost ripping her extensions out the night before.

"Bianca James? Daughter of the CEO that's dominating the business industry right now? The girl who literally gets driven around by a chauffeur to campus?" He rambles, obviously exasperated by your lack of knowledge though it was generally something everyone knew.

"The one with the botched nose job?"

Jay's face falls flat, throughly surprised that that was what you remembered of her reputation. "She got it fixed,"

"Well I don't know I'm not a business major! And I live off campus, everything that I know about school popularity comes from you guys," You answer with a shrug. "Yunjin says she's a bitch, so whatever it was, it was probably deserved that we were hair pulling. I play nasty when I'm drunk, you know that—"

"Bianca's has had a crush on Jake for like, four years. Their families have been in a partnership ever since Jake's dad wanted to expand to the West with the company. She's crazy, once she graduated last year she followed him here to Uni. His parents are pushing for them to get together because it'll make her happy which'll make her dad happy,"

You frown your brows, not seeing the point of his ramble. "Okay? So she's obsessed with him. That's not my problem, Jake's a known playboy either way so why does it matter if we hook up? Not that we did obviously since I ended up here but still,"

"She called you a dirty skank because she showed up to the party in the middle of you and Jake jumping each other on the couch. You, being drunk off your ass with mixed light and dark liquor, told her that just because she didn't have anyone to dick her down for the night didn't mean she had to make it everyone's problem," Jay deadpans, rather unamused while you bite back a laugh.

"I mean... yeah and I stand by that,"

"Point is, you two went back and forth until you got tired of it and tried to walk away but she pulled you back and you jumped on her. She started screaming, you were dragging her by the hair while Jake and Heeseung had to pull you off 'cause she didn't know how to fight and you were going in on her like we were back in high school," Jay explains in full while you nod along, his words causing your spotty memory to come back piece by piece to confirm he was right.

"Oh," You mumble, staring down at your hands. Your previously manicured nails were rough, one of them chipping on one hand while the other had a press on nail broken off, leaving your natural nail underneath evidently scrapped up and red. There was a slight redness to your right hand, the knuckles beginning to bruise in the smallest spot but aside from that, there were no other injuries on your end. "Damn, my bad. Party foul I guess,"

Jay shakes his head, unable to comprehend how you didn't remember a lick of last night but seemed relatively fine. Watching as he walked toward the bathroom, you shot your head up.

"Shit, Jay, I'm broke. What if she sues me?"

YOUR NOSE SCRUNCHES up at the incoming call, the unfamiliar number not ringing any bells causing you to press the reject button for the third time. You were sprawled out under one of the large trees on campus, your blanket that you always tucked away in your car for sunny days coming in handy as the weather grew warmer, allowing for you to wait between your classes while enjoying the fresh air and sun. You were perched up against the tree stump, headphones in listening to music with a book in hand.

The music pauses once again, the shrill of your ringtone causing you to let out a small groan in frustration. Decidedly having enough of the unknown number not getting the hint or leaving a message, you press accept to connect the call.

"Hello?" You speak first, the line quiet for a beat too long.

"Would it kill you to ever answer the phone?"

"You sound like my mom," You snort before realizing Jay had been the culprit in your interruptions. "Whose phone are you calling me from? Idiot I almost blocked you, kept stopping my music,"

"My phone died, this is Heeseung's number," Jay answers with a shrug, though you couldn't see him before he shakes his head. "Anyway, it's important obviously since I kept calling—"

"You couldn't have sent a message to let me know it was you and not a spam caller?"

"You're in deep shit," He finishes, ignoring your comment causing you to frown your brows. "Jake's looking for you, so just, don't be surprised if he shows up randomly,"

"What're you talking about?" You ask, not following the conversation at all. It had been a near week since the events of the frat party. No word had come of it, the first two you walked around rather cautious, prepped to run away if anyone came up to you with a stack of legal papers but nothing ever came. Living off campus, having entirely different areas of study, and not lingering for longer than needed for your classes allowed for you to stay entirely under the radar and out of Jake or Bianca's sight.

"I don't know, he went home yesterday and came back this morning saying he had to talk to you. It's important I guess. He wouldn't tell me but I'm assuming it has to do with last weekend," Jay explains, not being much help in providing context causing you to roll your eyes.

"Well obviously, I never spent more than three minutes around him before that," You huff, shutting your book and beginning to collect your things. "It's fine, he doesn't know my schedule and I go home after my last class so I can avoid him for now,"

"Uh,"

"What?" Pausing in your process, you take Jay's silence as a bad sign of him being an idiot. "Jongseong tell me you didn't tell him where I was,"

"I only told him that you'd be on campus for lectures today and he asked till when and I said till like 4 but that was before he explained why!" Jay rushes, words jumbled together in attempt to save himself. "I didn't tell him where, you're a lit major, the English department is huge and he has classes today too so it should be fine—"

"You're such an idiot," You breathe out, eyes widening at the convenience of the man of the hour that seemed to be wandering aimlessly looking around. Picking up your bag and slinging the blanket over your head to cover up your features, you begin to walk to opposite way, ignoring the poking leaves that still clung to the material. "I'm gonna kill you Jay, seriously he's looking for me which gives Bianca fuel to actually sue me if she wanted to cause she's crazy and already doesn't like me,"

"Well she has a reason,"

"She started it," You shoot back, voice almost a whisper into the phone in fear of speaking too loudly and gaining the brunettes attention that was across the way. In reality the sight of a bright red blanket being tossed over a persons body in the middle of comfortable heat was enough to gain anyone's attention, not that you were thinking clearly in the first place though. "I only regret it cause she's rich, stupid rich with the ability to ruin my life,"

There was another voice that was muffled through the line, Jay bickering with the owner. With a sigh, he speaks directly into the phone. "Alright, Hee wants his phone back so I gotta go. You're welcome by the way, you know, for the heads up,"

"Whatever, charge your phone I'll text you later," You mumble, bidding a goodbye to the boy who agrees and soon the line clicked, indicating that the call was ended. Looking around, you stop short realizing that you were headed in the wrong direction that your lecture would be. Slowly turning in attempt to find where Jake should've been, you pause with no sight of him. Assuming that the blanket was blocking your peripheral vision, you spin around fully only to let out a rather loud yelp in surprise.

Jake's eyes widen, shushing you and sending the few heads that turned a sheepish smile, reassuring that everything was fine. Catching your breath due to the sudden jump scare, you shake your head at him.

"What're you doing here?"

"Why're you avoiding me?"

You purse your lips at his retort. "Who says I was avoiding anybody?"

Jake lets out a small snort, picking one of the leaves off of the blanket with a pointed look. "Right, so you regularly go around like this?"

Wordlessly, you pull the blanket off of your body, Crumbling it up against your chest, one hand reaches out to flatten your hair that was sure to be sticking up in a few places. "Yeah, Thursdays. That's my thing, it's been cold, you know?"

Deciding against going back and forth, Jake checks the time on his phone momentarily. "How important is your next class?"

"Why?" You question, his answer being a reflection of what yours would be.

He shrugs half heartedly, looking around before his eyes settle back on you. His expression nearly unreadable, the smile he forced onto his lips not reaching his gaze causing your stomach to turn involuntarily. "Lets go eat,"

YOU SAT AWKWARDLY picking at the basket of fries between the two of you. You ended up on opposite sides of a booth in a well known burger place on campus, two drinks and the fries between you the only things ordered though Jake insisted on getting whatever you wanted.

You weren't necessarily hungry, having your lunch not too long ago and the thought of packing down a messy burger while having a sort-of serious conversation didn't seem like the best idea. Thus, the two of you sat silently, the soft music that played throughout the restaurant being the only noise to fill the space between you.

Taking a sip from the lemonade you ordered, you played with the garnish that was added to the rim. Growing antsy with the silence, you let out a small sigh. "Hey, uh, I didn't miss my lecture just for us to sit here right?"

Jake, who had seemed to be in a daze staring at the salt and pepper shakers at the corner of the table, blinks at the sound of your voice. Processing the words, he shakes his head. With a clear of his throat, he speaks. "No, no, sorry. I'm just trying to figure out how to explain this to you,"

"That's reassuring," You hum, sarcasm dripping from your words.

"Bianca is trying to cause trouble now because of what happened," Jake finally blurts, not knowing which way to start so he figured ripping off the bandaid would be best.

Your eyes widen slightly, stiffening up at the new information. "Jesus christ I didn't think she'd actually try to sue me over extensions,"

A small snort came from Jake, amused by your words as he shakes his head. "She's not quite there yet," He reassures, the tiniest of smiles quirking at the corners of his lips. "She did, however, go cry to her dad per usual. Word about me and you got back to my parents and they were on my ass about what happened,"

You tilt your head, not following where the conversation was meant to head if it weren't you ending up in legal debt. "Okay?"

"I had to lie," He starts off, wearily holding up his hands to show he meant no offense causing your suspicion to grow.

"About what exactly?"

"Well, keep in mind if I didn't then you probably would've gotten served papers over even held in a jail cell overnight," Jake clarifies, one of his hands awkwardly scratching the back of his neck as he diverted his gaze to the tabletop, studying the lines of the wood. "As far as they're concerned, we're in a relationship,"

You blink, half expecting him to laugh it off and say it was all a joke. However, the grimace on his face in prep for your reaction spoke more truth than you'd like to acknowledge. "Okay... why exactly did you tell them that?"

"Because by saying you were my girlfriend, my parents were able to convince Bianca's dad that it wasn't technically your fault. She came by looking for a fight because she wanted me, even while I was in a relationship," He shrugs, taking a small sip from the bubbly soda that was rather untouched on his end. "She had been traveling around Europe for the past month so it's believable, I said we were fairly new either way,"

"So basically your parents think we're in a relationship," You sum up, finding the confession not as serious as he made it out to be initially.

"And so does Bianca, who goes here too," Jake adds, watching as you pinched your brows together, beginning to puzzle together what he meant by that.

"No,"

"Yeah," A sheepish smile took place on his lips, attempting to lighten the blow while you shake your head in denial. "If she finds out we're not actually together she'll go right back and snitch. Without me backing you up I'm sure she'll convince someone to get back at you, so for now we need to act like it's real,"

You sent Jake a bored look. "You're telling me that we have to fake date? The whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing and all?" He nods along, albeit hesitant but confirms your questions. You narrow your eyes, confused by how rather nonchalant he seemed by it all when offering such a thing. "What's in it for you?"

"Sorry?" Jake stutters, surprised by that being your first question.

"What do you get out of this? We barely know each other, I doubt this is out of the kindness of your heart,"

He pauses, lips pursing together with a slight nod. "Bianca's been pushing for us to get together since she transferred here," Jake admits, rolling his eyes at the thought. "Because of how ambit she is, my family encourages it. As long as she's happy, her dad will be happy, and in return it'll benefit them. But they’re not unreasonable. At least for right now, they'll back off because of said girlfriend,"

"You know, if I knew making out with you would lead me to this much trouble, I would've never let you dance with me," You sigh, watching as his expression morphed into a rather amused one.

"You kissed me first,"

"No I didn't,"

"You did," A smirk plays at the corners of his lips, satisfied with your uneasiness. You didn't remember much of that night, even after the spotty memories came back so it was highly probable what he said was true. "You were eager too," Pulling down the collar of his shirt, your eyes widening seeing the small cluster of bruising along his collarbone, presumably from your doing due to how faded they looked, almost healed but still noticeable. "Didn't take you as a girl who liked to leave a mark,"

"To be fair, I don't acknowledge my black out days. That's a whole different person," You shrug, gesturing for him to put the shirt back in place to keep the tacky hickeys out of view.

Reluctantly, Jake readjusted himself. Though the small laugh that left his lips didn't go unnoticed, feeling significantly more at ease now that the brunt of the conversation was over with and you seemed to take it better than anticipated.

Suddenly clapping your hands, you begin to dig through your backpack. Pulling out a piece of paper from a notebook and a pen from the front pocket, Jake watches as you began to scribble on the sheet. He could see the numbered list you began to make, leaning in closer to catch a glimpse of the words.

"Okay!" You smile, turning the sheet around and placing the pen down beside it. "Add or change anything that you want," Pushing the paper towards Jake, you allow him to take a second to read the mock contract you've created, the guidelines in your do's in dont's to the relationship agreement.

"Number one, don't get attached?" Jake reads aloud, slightly surprised by that being your highest priority along with the wording of it.

With a small shrug, you nod back. "All cliché movies always put down don't fall in love, I don't want to jinx it" You explain. "Personally, I've never had a problem with friends with benefits situations. The main thing is to never get attached though, so that's number one,"

He hums back, in silent agreement with your words and finding it comforting how not phased you were. Maybe it was because he'd been running away from a certain someone's grasp for a year but the nonchalant nature in how you approached the potential relationship seemed refreshing.

The rest of the list had general rules: no unnecessary PDA, no outside relationships during the duration of the agreement, always stick to the story, only tell those absolutely necessary of the agreement (ie Jay), don't make it weird after the contract ends, contract end date, April 3rd (?).

"Why April?" Jake asks, counting the days in his head to see it would be a near four months out.

"My birthday's the 27th. I don't want to be in a fake relationship on my 21st birthday, I'd like to get legally drunk and potentially hook up with whoever I want in peace," You snort, planning out the break up to have three weeks of separation to avoid suspicion. "I mean, we can always end it earlier that's just, the cut off ya know? Play it by ear,"

"Alright," Jake agrees, finding it reason enough. "What counts as excessive PDA?" You raise a brow, expecting him to know the answer in itself but he sheepishly shrugs, a boyish smile playing at his lips. "What? I tend to touchy in a relationship, I just want to know the boundaries,"

"As long as you're not constantly trying to make out with me everywhere we go we should be fine," You answer, narrowing your eyes as he nods, seemingly taking a mental note of it. "How touchy are you?"

"Very," Jake admits, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know my ex made me take one of those love languages test and physical touch was like, 70% of it I think,"

"Okay.. good to know," You mumble, not exactly surprised by the random fact considering even with friends and the handful of times you've been around, Jake was always very affectionate to the boys. "Mine goes acts of service, quality time, and then touch," Figuring you'd be playing the part for a while, it would be beneficial for you both to know what would be expected in a real relationship.

He hums. You watch as he pulls out his phone, beginning to type without a word to you. Raising a brow, slightly annoyed by his lack of attention to the ongoing conversation, you relax as he puts it down. From the upside view you had, you could see the title of the new note he made which read '___ FACTS' with your love languages listed below. A smile breaks way onto your lips, unable to keep it away causing Jake to tilt his head, confused by your sudden amusement but he couldn't help but quirk a smile of his own at your infectious expression.

"How do you feel about nicknames?" He instead asks, changing the topic without hitch.

"I'm good with any that aren't overly corny,"

"So no baby cakes?" You immediately shake your head, wincing at the name. "Sugar plum?" Somehow worse, you disagree though a small laugh left your lips as he began to list absurd pet names. "Pookie bear?"

"Never any of that," You emphasize, covering your face out of embarrassment while Jake grins, finding your reaction rather humorous. "I'm basic, a good baby or even sweetheart would suffice,"

"Babygirl?"

You scrunch up your nose, a small shrug on your end causing Jake to raise a brow out of surprise, half expecting you to turn it down straight away. Your response only furthers his less than innocent thoughts. "That only works when I'm drunk and horny,"

He clears his throat, a small nod to himself before he responds. "Good to know,”

[blessedbyapollo]

Nico was certain that a lifetime of prison would be worth it if he could just murder whoever lived above him. Unfortunately, that would mean he wouldn’t graduate on time, so it seemed he was doomed to eternal suffering.

The first month of fall semester, everything had been fine. There was no noise next to or above him. Life was great. Now, however, Nico was stuck hearing the people who lived above him fuck at 3 am, something that he previously did not know could carry through floors. Most of the time, he tackled this by going down the hall to sleep in Jason’s room on his soft rug. It was fluffy and cozy, and Jason regularly vacuumed so he knew there was no freshman flu embedded in the fibers.

It was coming up on months of those assholes’ reign of terror. Nico had come to terms with the fact that slapping the ceiling in hopes that they would hear it was not, in fact, as effective as he thought it would be. 3am be damned: this time he was going to tell them to shut the fuck up once and for all.

Percy was Nico’s in to the third floor. He was technically not allowed to be up there - he didn’t have a key (as far as anyone was concerned) so it was not his place to enter. Truly, he didn’t use the totally-not-key that Percy had given him unless it was an absolute emergency.

It was an absolute emergency.

Based on the positioning of where he knew the bathroom was on each floor, Nico knew exactly which door to knock on. He just hoped that whatever was going on before had started to cool off as he approached the overly-decorated door.

He paused a moment. Did he really want to see what was happening here? Did he really need to talk to them, or could he just go the classic “tell my RA and pretend they solved the problem” route? He observed the name tags stuck to the door that read “Will,” “Leo,” and “Travis.” They were shaped like Amongus characters. Nico hated it deeply. He knocked.

He heard a muffled “What’s up?,”but before he could answer he was stopped with a hand suddenly smacking the doorframe next to him, which totally did not make him jump. When he looked up, what he saw totally did not make him blush.

The guy next to him was, to put it bluntly, hot, but not in a way that Nico believed any sane person should find as attractive as he did. He was wearing a truly atrocious shirt: a Storm Trooper covered in Christmas lights that said “Merry Sithmas.” Underneath that gray shirt was…another gray shirt, yet long sleeved and just close enough to the color of the graphic tee that it looked weird. His shaggy blonde curls were a mess, but were, in what appeared to be his most redeeming physical factor, an absolutely radiant gold color. His blue eyes were fixed on Nico far too calmly for someone who he had clearly never met before.

Nico was a goner. A goner for a nerd in a bad shirt who definitely lived in that sex dungeon he was coming to take down.

Instead of revealing this, he said, suavely: “Are you Will, Leo, or Travis?”

Mystery nerd finally startled at that.

“How did you know my name?” He fervently whispered. Nico raised an eyebrow and pointed to the name tags on the door.

“It’s right there, genius. And that doesn’t answer my question.” The guy seemed to relax a bit at that.

“Oh thank god, for a second I thought you might have been the campus stalker that Travis won’t shut up about.” Ok, so not Travis. “I’m Will.” He finally said, eyes wide. Nico nodded in acknowledgement.

“Hello, Will. Do you happen to know which one of your roommates is currently in there?” Will pulled out his phone and furrowed his brow. He seemed to be checking the time, which Nico found strange considering it was obviously Too Fucking Late.

“I’m not convinced it’s Leo, but I’m also not convinced it ISN’T Leo. He usually stays out late working, but not this late.”

“Well then where were you this late?”

“Working.” Will said, grinning widely. His two front teeth were slightly crooked and his whole face lit up when he smiled. Goner. “Either way, what does it matter to you?”

“Whoever it is in there is getting up to some, uh, stuff that I can hear all the way on the floor below.” Nico said, shoving his hands in the pockets of his pajama pants. Did they have dinosaurs on them? Yes. Were they any more embarrassing than gray-on-gray Star Wars apparel? Absolutely not.

“Oh, I doubt it’s Leo then.”

“That’s all you have to say? No explanation for how someone, apparently ‘Travis’, can defy all laws and be heard THROUGH the floor?” Nico’s hands were fully out of the pockets then. Will shrugged, then looked down in what appeared to be genuine apology.

“I’m sorry about that, uh-“ He looked up in question.

“Nico.”

“Nico. I’m sorry, then, Nico, truly. It sucks to be up this late, especially in the middle of the week and especially against your will.” Damnit. That was genuine too. “But, hey, if it makes you feel any better, I doubt that Travis is like, actually doing it in there. He’s probably just playing a game.”

“WHAT?” Nico asked incredulously. He had clearly heard something else happening.

“Yeah, no, Travis doesn’t have people over very often, and when he does he at least leaves a sock on the door. Um, anyway,” Will continued quickly at the look on Nico’s face. “He makes way incriminating noises when he plays video games. Look, I can prove it.” Will reached for the door at the exact same time Nico shielded his eyes. When he removed his hands, he saw….

…Nothing. Genuinely nothing. Just some guy sitting on a ratty - was that a dog bed? - playing some kind of game.

“Ugh fuck me!” He screamed, pounding his fists on the floor. Nico wasn’t sure if it relieved him or not to know that he had heard the exact same thing and assumed the worst context. But, this was definitely his culprit, and he was definitely alone.

“Travis!” Will said, in a tone far bossier than he had greeted Nico with. “Dude, shut up! You’re being way too loud!” Travis looked up at Will with a quirked eyebrow.

“Says literally who, William?” Will, who was clearly excited to prove himself right, jumped a bit and pointed directly at Nico. He waved at them both tiredly.

“Wait. Shit. Who is that?”

“Nico.”

“I’m Nico.”

“Hi Nico. Where are you from?” Travis had switched off the TV at that point.

“The second floor of this building.”

“Ah shit are you-“

“Room 220.” They said in unison. Will looked completely lost.

“How did you know what room he was in?” Will said in the same whisper-yell from earlier.

“Dude. We’re room 322. The floors are two rooms off, so he’s right below us.” Travis reclined further on the - yep, it was definitely a dog bed.

“Okay literally how was I supposed to know that. How do YOU know that?” Nico noticed that Will made wild hand gestures when he talked, and they had begun to accelerate. He figured it was time to step in.

“It truly does not matter at all how or why or when you all figured this out, I’m just here to tell you to shut the fuck up.”

“Oh.” Travis said.

“So true.” Will said.

“Sorry man.” Travis again.

“Also, and not that I care, but where is your third roommate at 3am?” They both exchanged suspicious looks.

“Probably with Jason Grace. Do you know him? He lives on the second floor.” Nico gaped at them. HIS Jason? His wonderful soft rug angel?

“I do know Jason, actually. I sleep on his rug whenever you buffoons are too loud, which is literally at least two nights a week at this point.” Nico almost regretted his tone when he saw Will’s shoulders fall again ever so slightly. He clearly felt bad about it, even though, from what Nico gathered, he was not the main perpetrator.

Travis, on the other hand, looked…offended? “You SLEEP on a RUG? Dude, I’m so sorry! Jason’s rug is probably gross as fuck, too!” Will made an “amen” gesture to that, his eyes still slightly downcast.

“Do not diss that rug. That rug is the best thing in my life right now.”

“That’s sad.”

“It’s comfy. And you make sex noises when you play video games.” Travis put his hand over his heart.

“He got you, man. We’ve told you this for WEEKS!” Will’s beautiful grin was back. He snapped his fingers on the word “weeks” for absolutely no reason. If anything, it just made the whole situation louder.

Travis, who had just started to look guilty for the first time, reeled again. “Okay, well, in my defense, you said you’d ask Cecil to go into Connor’s room and smack the floor to see if we could hear it and you literally never did. So. That’s on you.”

Will turned to Nico with his mouth open and palms out, like some kind of dehydrated fish. God he was hot.

“Connor is literally YOUR brother, you dillweed! Also, I’m never in this room. Like. Ever. So if anything that’s Leo’s job.”

“My what?” Said a voice behind Nico. It didn’t take much even in his absolutely braindead state for him to deduce that it was Leo.

“Will thinks you’re not pulling your room-weight.” Travis said, now just fully laying across the dog bed.

Will put his head against the wall in exasperation. “I did not even kind of say that.” He told the corner. Leo reached his arm fully around Nico to pat Will’s shoulder. It took more self restraint than Nico cared to admit to not smack his arm out of the way.

“I believe you, comrade.” Leo said in a shitty Russian accent. Then, regularly: “I frankly don’t give a shit what you were talking about as long as I can go to bed right now.”

“Ugh yeah. You and me both.” Will said, turning to Nico. He didn’t break eye contact with him as he said. “Also, Leo, this is Nico.” Leo clapped his hands louder than Nico needed to hear at any given point. He pointed directly at Nico.

“RUG DUDE! JASON’S FRIEND! Why are you here?” Nico felt a bit honored that his rug was finally getting the recognition it deserved.

“Ask them.” He said.

“We’re way too loud.”

“YOU’RE way too loud, Travis.”

“I’ll believe anything that comes out of Will’s mouth. Travis, shut the fuck up.”

“Why him? What has Will ever done to earn so much trust?”

“He made me soup.” And then, simultaneously: “I made him soup.”

“I can respect that.” Nico said. Will opened his mouth to go on what would likely be a Long One, but Nico, to his great surprise, put a hand on his shoulder. “Look, all I needed to do was say that you’re being too loud. I don’t care who, or why, but just please be more conscious. I’m sure you all have finals too, so let me get some goddamn sleep. Cool?”

Will gave him a sheepish thumbs up, arm slightly stiff under Nico’s hand. He quickly withdrew it. Travis nodded shamefully, and Leo threw a two finger salute his way. “Great. I’ll see at least one of you around Jason’s room apparently.”

As Nico shut the door and shuffled his way down the hallway in his clunky shower shoes, the sounds of muffled arguing following close behind. He couldn’t help but hope he ran into that group some other time. Except maybe without Travis. Or Leo…

Yep. Goner.

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Neighbor next door

Yandere Steven Grant x reader

A/N: This has some serious Basil Stitt vibes not gonna lie.

Category: Twisted Letter - I recommend you read the informations for twisted letters first ->here<- if you haven't already.

Dead dove do not eat - you'll get exactly what's in the tags!

Tags: yandere themes, stalking(?), Steven being a shy but sweet guy. :)

Hello Neighbour,

I'm sure you're wondering why I reach out to like that? You're currently not at home, but I will leave this note at your door so you see it when you come back.

I couldn't help but notice you since the day you moved in. And given the thin walls separating us two I almost always heard your front door open and close, so I guess you could say I was always aware of you.

You see, I have trouble sleeping, it ain't easy for me getting sleep, so I mostly stay up most nights. Yeah, it's a pain in the ass but I got used to it and it's now getting better.

Anyways, I always heard you leaving for work. Please don't think of me as a creep, oh god no. I even heard you talking to the other people living in this building, I have to say you got a cute laugh.

The following days I got curious about you, and even more when we two met eachother inside the elevator or just on the floor. I really started to like you...

You're just so kind to everybody, and to be honest you're beautiful too.

Remember that one day you accidentally dropped the flower vase? It was pure coincidence I was peeking through the peephole in my door after hearing the loud crash. I wanted so badly to help you, but other kind people came out from their apartments to help you.

The next day after work I came across the flower Store and saw the exact same vase you dropped. I bought it and I want to give it to you, I hope you don't mind. I'm a kind guy after all.

And before I forget, I often saw you at the Museum - I work there, at the gift shop. I'm Steven with a v.

I once saw you strolling around in the Ancient Egypt part, did you like it? Not to sound creepy and all that, I'm not a stalker! It's because I am studying Ancient Egypt, and I can offer you help if you want. If not that's completely fine with me of course.

Anyways, I realized you're often by yourself in your Apartment, and I was thinking maybe you want some company? I can order Pizza if you want to.

If you don't want it that's okay, really, but if you change your mind, I am always available for you. I just wanted to let you know I like you, really like you.

I know, it sounds crazy that I already like you really much, but I can't help, something in my head just made click.

Anyways, laters gaters! I mean- if you're interested in the meeting and the Pizza? I wouldn't want to rush you.

It's your choice after all.

--Steven Grant, your neighbour next door

[monbons]

Some Six Sentence Sunday

Thanks for the tag @hushed-chorus! I can’t wait to dive into the new chapter. I am not mad at all at a potential 300k new words when they are so gooooood.

If you've been keeping up with The Eternal Life of Baz Pitch, I hope you enjoyed your first peek at Simon! He'll feature heavily in every chapter moving forward.

If you've been holding out on reading, now might be a good time to start. I can't promise it won't hurt--sad Baz will still be sad Baz--but Simon will be a welcome balm each chapter. (I've also been informed by @bookish-bogwitch that my fic slaps so hard it can be read in any order...so feel free to jump in wherever you want 😆.)

For those who've kept up to speed, you deserve a little more comfort for putting up with angst-fest, so have a snippet from chapter 6 under the cut, featuring some Penny and Shep!

“So, I think I had a date with a stalker today,” he offers by way of answer.  “Oooooh, sounds fun.” Shepherd plops himself down next to Simon. “Do tell!” “Shep, that is the wrong response to this situation.” Penny frowns at them both.  “He’s shown up like three times in the last two days, and he keeps ordering the same gross drink.” Simon hassles his curls. “He flirts with me the whole time, but it's awkwardly aggressive.” “That’s actually really concerning.” Penny’s eyes go wide. “What’s the drink?” Shepherd presses. Simon grimaces. “Pumpkin mocha breve.”  “How seasonally inappropriate!” Shepherd fakes outrage, hand over his heart like he’s been attacked by the beverage. “Don’t get me started,” Simon mutters. “Is he at least cute?” Shepherd punches Simon in the arm lightly. “I repeat, your reactions are truly concerning, Shep,” Penny chimes in. Both boys ignore her.

Hellos and high-fives! @thewholelemon, @roomwithanopenfire, @raenestee, @cutestkilla

@emeryhall, @beastmonstertitan, @aristocratic-otter, @brilla-brilla-estrellita, @best--dress

@comesitintheclover, @cattocavo, @arthurkko, @rbkzz, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

@youarenevertooold, @valeffelees, @iamamythologicalcreature, @noblecorgi, @ic3-que3n

@larkral, @drowninginships, @shrekgogurt, @ivelovedhimthroughworse

@rimeswithpurple, @skeedelvee,

[noonaishere]

Online/Offline [C.S] - sixty-four | sanflowers

The next day you had to work most of the day at the café, owing to being short-staffed, and while you had forgotten about San’s surprise during the morning rush, you remembered it during the mid-morning lull, and then forgot it again during the lunch rush.

The stalker had chosen to come in at that time, and ordered a coffee and sandwich, though he didn’t eat the sandwich while he drank his coffee. Wasteful. At least, with the café as busy as it was, when he ordered another one, you had an excuse to not loiter near him after bringing it.

When the lunch rush finally ended, you - so you didn’t have to face in his direction - diligently cleaned the espresso machine. It had to be cleaned anyway, but you it was going to be so clean by the time you were done with it.

“Y/n.”

You paused, tense. 

But then you realized it was Minsoo’s voice and turned around to face her.

“You got something,” she gestured at the huge bouquet of flowers a courier had placed on the counter. You couldn’t even see the courier behind them, it was so big; they leaned around the side and said hello.

Your stomach fell, and your eyes darted to your stalker for a brief moment, he wasn’t looking at you though. As he viewed the flowers he looked confused and maybe… a little angry? You walked over to Minsoo and thanked the courier, who left. They couldn’t be from the stalker if he looked mad, right? 

“Who’d send me flowers?” You mumbled.

“I know who.” Minsoo smiled.

You looked at her, quizzically, and she gestured to the bouquet. You looked at it for a second before realizing she was telling you to read the card, but you didn’t see one. You looked around for the card and she helped, looking at the other side of the bouquet.

“Found it!” She said, and handed you the small envelope with a little bounce.

You could feel the stalker’s eyes burning through you as you opened the envelope to read what the card said:

I hope these San-flowers keep you company until your San-shine can come back ;D

It took a moment for your brain to comprehend what you were reading, confused momentarily by the puns. You exhaled a laugh and smiled.

“Who are they from?” Minsoo asked, voice telling you that she already knew and was just confirming her suspicion.

“Your cousin.”

You looked up at the flowers: sunflowers. You should have just looked at them and known they were from him. How could you possibly think they were from the man who wouldn’t leave you alone and who didn’t care about you or your personal space or what you wanted? Or from some new boggart, ready to haunt your waking life like the bastard who sat only a few feet from you was currently doing.

You laughed to yourself and shook your head at your own silliness.

They could only be from San.

Unable to see the doorknob for all the flowers in your face, you put the vase down, unlocked the door, held it open with your foot, and lugged the overly large arrangement through the door before spinning around and shutting and locking the door behind you. Carrying it back from the café must have made you look like a comedy character; a gigantic bouquet walking around on human legs. You put them on your table and added a little more water before going to your desk and flopping into the chair with a sigh.

You were so happy to be home and away from your stalker’s prying eyes that followed you all around the café for your entire shift, his gaze scathing, burning, bordering on prurient as his eyes raked over you and your skin crawled in discomfort. You hated it, you hated him, and you were happy to be free from it for a few hours while you were at home.

At least you had your video editing to distract you.

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Send an ask or leave a comment if you want to be added to the tag list! 🧋

@rachs-words • @stayatinykatsy •

[heynikkiyousofine]

✨Hello, 2024!✨

I'm excited to share with you a few projects I'm hoping to start posting this next year, while also branching out on some new things, such as new pairings, a different POV, and even an attempt at an original novel by myself. Cheers to the next year!

⌘Sweeter Than Fiction

(InuKag, modern au, strangers to lovers, librarian/hockey player au, eventual smut, fluff)

Summary: Kagome Higurashi is a loner, something that has never bothered her. She has her close friend, she has her favorite books she devours every chance she gets, a family who loves and supports her, and she is in her final year of college, with a dream to become a writer. Kagome’s content, but in reality, she wishes for adventures and excitement, much like the characters in her books. In steps the captain of her college’s hockey team, a rude, unruly, and cocky hanyou named Inuyasha Taisho, and suddenly, her whole world is turned upside down.

Keep an eye out for some fabulous art by @clearwillow with this one.

⌘How To Train Your Human

(InuKag, space/other world au, strangers to lovers, eventual smut, chaos, fluff, funny)

Summary: In their 250th year, every youkai receives their human familiar after they complete all the necessary tests and read the handbook on how to train their human. Even Inuyasha will, despite being the first half demon to do so. He expected a kind, docile human as described in said handbook, similar to how his mother was when she met his father. So what does he do when Kagome Higurashi, his human, is the exact opposite?

Keep an eye out for some fantastic art with this one by @heavenin--hell

⌘Terms and Conditions

(InuKag, modern au, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, eventual smut, angst, fluff)

Summary: After the disastrous day I had, there were two things I was certain of. One, Inuyasha Taisho, the country’s most eligible bachelor, was going to be my fiancé, and eventual husband. Two, we might kill each other before we ever make it to the altar.

Also planning some fabulous art with @brain-rot-hour for this one as well.

⌘Gifts for amazing people in this fandom.

I've been working with a select few others in creating gifts for the amazing readers, writers, artist, creators of this fandom, so be on the look out for some one-shots and drabbles of our favorite half demona and modern miko, along with new pairings that I'm dipping my toes into.

⌘Becoming Theirs (An Original Novel)

(new novel, modern, strangers, stalker, dark, humor, fluff, smut, healing my own inner trauma with this one)

Summary: Charlotte's life has been turned upside down with meeting Jackson and Elliot, only for her entire world to be shifted again when a past danger reveals itself.

⌘ Maybe/Maybe Not's:

(depends on all the time I have)

Epilogue Chapter to 12 Days of Smutmas: InuKag Edition

Sequel to A Deal With A Demon

Bird In A Cage (InuKag, strangers to lovers, dark and twisty, feudal era and modern au, fluff, first time, teaching, smut.) Summary: Kagome finds herself escaping a fate bestowed upon and stumbles upon a whole new world, where not all are who they seem to be.

Currently celebrating hitting the 400 mark in followers. If you would like to be added to the tag list or removed, please let me know, so I can update it. Also, if there's anything you're excited for, feel free to let me know! I will happily let you know when a new chapter is coming. I'm finally at a point in my life where I have time and energy to create new things and push my creativity. And I'm so beyond excited to share it all with you. Happy New Year! ✨

[minzart]

Paperinik Week 1!

Hello! I'm new to pkna but I found this séries back in may and am curently on insue #18! Só naturaly I'm visiting their tag to see who else new and old fans are and lo and behold there's a duck reading club who is currently doing a week by week assignment! Started by @duckblr-book-club

I hope I can conclude this series with their time limit and hey, why not participate and share what I thought!

So here it is! Some screenshots and a brief explanation to the followers who read this and have no idea what Paperinik New Adventures is!

Disclaimer: I started reading these comics in Portuguese and then didn't find inssue 7 and jumped to English

Vol 1 / #0 EVRONIANS

The first inssue! Yayyy! And I love how Donald is introduced as already being the duck avenger/Paperiniki for some time! Bc it's true! He already had adventures before this!

When I read this the first time my only interaction with the concept of duck avenger was his apparition in the "Race world" series(wich was done years after this one)! Were he was manifested into existence as Donald's race partner and as his courage taken form, I have read that was a very poor take on the character and at the time I didn't knew HOW TRUE IT WAS. Paperiniki is so much more than just Donald's daring side or wtv. IT IS HIM IN ALL HIS SASS AND GLORY

He is a VIGILANTE! Not a hero! A VIGILANTE AND I LOVE HOW HIS ALLIES AND FOES ACTUALY REFLECT THE ACTUAL MEANING OF THIS!

Anyway I LOVE UNO(um/one) I LOVE HIM, AN ARTIFICIAL INTELICE CREATED BY AN ALMOST MAD GENIUS WHO COULDN'T STOP CREATING THINGS! bad AND GOOD! the guy had a compulsion disorder. And Uno, for me reflects that SO WELL, HE IS SUCH A LITTLE SHIT, he is a godamned STALKER BUILDING, the guy KNOWS your address, your size, your name and your family and is STARVING FOR A FRIENDSHIP BC JUST LOOK AT DONALD! Uno jumped at the chance to be useful and DO SO MUCH SHIT AND HE IS SASSY! he and Donald have such a good banter bc they are on the same LEVEL OF SNARKBESS

The evronians suck your emotions and what a good contrast to our full of passion Donald Duck the Duck Avenger!

such a good way to start and introduce the concepts of aliens and vigilantes! And I love how to have the aliens they upgraded Paperinikis' gadgets by introducing Uno and the whole concept of Mr.Ducklair

Also I love the little goodbye to Giro at the end, and remember, I have not read any of his adventures prior to this series, and I get it! Giro was his gadgets partner before this all started! And I found it cute how he didn't wanted to say goodbye or even how to start! It felt, for me, a way the writers communicate with the older fans? I have no idea if it worked or if it was scandalous but starting the series telling new people that hey, he already exists before and had other adventures and allies! But now we are introducing new ones! So don't panic! Maybe we will even sneak a reference or two :)

Vol 2 / #0/2 THE WINDS OF TIME

Aliens who suck your emotions and want to conquer the galaxy is too weak a plot for you?fear not FOR WE HAVE TIME TRAVEL :D

And better yet, CRONOPIRATES-I mean CronoThieves! RAIDER MY BELOVED I LOVE HIM. HE IS SUCK A GOOD ANTAGONIST he is clever, he is brutal, he introduced the concept of TimePolice and Time Travel and a whole new deck of institutions to the world just by EXISTING, AND THAT PART OF THE SCREENSHOT MADE ME WOW, in theory you would have figured out by now he was a time traveler, but that scene, that over there is the CINEMATIC REVELATION, the part were if you didn't figure out by now he is time traveling and THAT IS SUCH A COOL POWER.

Even Donald and Uno admit that it would be a hard challenge! AND IT WAS! IF IT WEREN'T BY LYLA AND A GODDAMEND TIME TORNADO WHAT THE HELL XD, but yeah to best him paperiniki had to use LUCK and little but of planing!

And introducing the concepts of Droids! The future has Droids and Lyla is one of them!

Vol 3 / #0/3 XADHOOM!

Xadhoom! Our third entry of allies(for now, Raider i can smell the ally by circumstances from here)! She is the last survivor of her race that was killed... :) , by the evronians, and it was all her fault, her too trusty nature and also her eagerness to complete her cientific experiment first and safety later led her people to slaughter

She now has sweared vengeance and is fighting alone in space against the killers of her people and colonizers of her planet, she is full of angst, rage and is burning herself(practically literaly) to fulfill her revenge or/and die trying

As you can see, she is such an 80's edgy superhero and I love it for her you go queen! Kill yourself trying to achieve an impossible goal! However she is in a paperiniki comic and BOY, this lovable dumbass won't even notice he was about the be blow up in a suicidal attempt made by her to destroy an evronian base that was on earth, wich would blow up our whole planet too, but Uno and him got an alternative and that enough created a bond and a sweet talk between them wich convinced her to not blow up for her cause! And he didn't even noticed she is practically an atomic bomb with legs :)

Cute, funny bc paperiniki is a lovable idiot and she is an edify cientist with blood in her eyes :D

Vol 4 / #1 SHADOWS OF VENUS

The inssue were I could imagine this being a season finale! We introduced and expanded on the evronians' generals! Supreme Zondag could absolutely be a tumblr sexy man if we got a series from this comic and you can't tell me otherwise! It's the full black regale that you can absolutely imagine as latex, anyways meet also the chef of their cientific department, official Zoster, I can hear the maniacal doctor laugh from here and don't test me my track record of favorite antagonist has at least 4 mad cientist in it

Also can you imagine how much of a prick you must be for an alien race target you for your negativety being THAT BIG?! Honestly Angus has to be removed from the equation he's just too full of negative emotions, then again Xadhoom sacrificing herself only to do a FUCK YOU I CAST FIRE BALL(explodes the ship WITH THE GENERALS IN IT) IS A BIG PP MOVE GIRL

Vol 5 / #2 TWO

Listen. LISTEN. UNO ALREADY HAS SUCH A VILLAIN POTENTIAL, all of his planing and manipulation, his gadgets and backstory are PRIME VILLAIN FOR ME OK, he is a Grey character in my heart and Duo just proves my point, I LOVE HIM ALSO, this. THESE SETS OF PANELS WERE SO COOL, THE REVEAL, THE DRAMA, THE SETTING! He isn't a virus! he is basically a twin, another face of Uno and I love it! He was already there right from.the beggining. He just got TIRED OF BEING IN THE BACKSTAGE ALL THE TIME AND NOW HE IS PISSED!

Also YAYYY Everett Ducklair appears! He is alive and well, seeking spiritual guidance and becoming a monk, but also coming back bc he is not stupid, he installed a device that will inform him when things go wrong with Uno, would you look at that the guy jumped off ship responsibly! He is also SO TINNY(wich is a contrast i find extremely amusing knowing that Uno prefers the opposed spectrum if givem a body)

Vol 6 / #3 DAY OF THE COLD SUN

AND IF THINGS COULDN'T GET MORE EPIC, THE TEAM UP WITH RAIDER IS HERE BABYYYY YAHOOOOOO

I LOVE how the time police is a bitch! I love how Paperiniki will go against authorities if ir means saving people! I love how he teams up with the Raider and how the Raider only offers this information AS A TRADE!

The time police would let so much people die to maintain the future status quo! And Donald is having NOONE OF IT, he will save the day, he will save the city, future be DAMNED! his family and friends are in duckburg!

He will save the day and get the villain, he is also in the watch list but hey Uno does this all the time, no prob

Vol 7 / #4 EARTHQUAKE

And now the last inssue of this weak we learn a bit more about Angus Fangus! He came from humble begginings! That is his mom and she is a badass old lady and leader who has more neurons and deserves better, I hope I see her again the the future!

And also Faraday! Still waiting to see if she gets more involved in the story bc for now this is the only time I see her.

This is also the inssue were the military get involved! Another organization to keep track off!

Last thoughts

Go read Paperinik New Adventures! It's fun! It's funny, has lovable characters, and the 80's/90's poor taste gags that can still be found here are are really quick to glance over.

I haven't even talked about other characters who are still really crucial and INTERESTING (camera 9 my beloved), this whole series is so well thought out too! Each little piece of lore introduced in the beggining will be expanded in the future!

The art is so colorful AND THERE ARE DETAIK THE INDIVIDUAL PANELS THAT WILL BE IMPORTANT LATER. Lyla calling out Uno earsdroping in her conversation with Paperinik literaly made me back Track to see if they did show us AND THEY DID, UNO WAS HIDEN IN PLAIN SIGHT AND I ONLY GOT TO NOTICE HIM AFTER SHE POINTED OUT!

[sunny-speaks]

Hello ! I've read your fanfiction about a 14dwy academical rivals to lovers AU. I loved it... and know I'm obssessed. Could you please give us more headcanons ?

Academic Rivals! [REDACTED] x Reader Headcanons

Ahhh! This is my first ask and I am more than glad to answer! I am so sorry I took so long responding,,, but I do hope you enjoy!

Characters: [REDACTED] from @14dayswithyou x reader !!

(also to @14dayswithyou you can make as many additions as you want to this au, anyone can! a tag or two would be cool,,, but I don't mind not being tagged! i just can't believe i'm the first to write academic rivals-- but ill gladly claim the au!!)

So… [REDACTED], huh? Out of all the people at your post-secondary education institute, you chose the asshat fuckboi?

…Not a bad choice.

What, you falling for him because despite that hugeass brain (and his even bigger dick), he doesn’t make you feel like you’re dumb or inferior to him?

What, you like the fact that he treats you with borderline reverence on the inside yet willingly chooses to joke around and banter with you because it’s attention nonetheless?

What, you like the fact that he’s crazy dedicated to you and would never cheat (unlike a certain *cough* Teodore *cough*) on you?

What, you falling for him because deep down he is crazy, down bad for you and just wants you to want him as much as he wants you?

Well, you’re in for a ride if you even muttered a ‘...sure’ to any of those questions, because boy… does [REDACTED] deliver.

So maybe you say you hate him, but do you really?

Would your gaze drop from his eyes to other places on him and back up to him if you detested him as much as you say?

Would you continue bantering and teasing him like you do if you really wished he were dead?

Mmm, nah. He didn’t think so.

He knows you well enough to know you don’t actually hate him. You just rather think you hate him.

Oh, you loved the tension that came with rivalry, didn’t you?

Don’t worry, as long as you did, he did too. &lt;3

He may have gone to therapy for some of his family issues or deep rooted self-esteem issues, but that won’t change anything in the way he loves you.

He loves you sooo much, and he knows how smart you are as a person and believes in you so much… But he can’t help but worry!

He promised he’d leave his life of lies behind… but until you’re safe, he can’t stop what he’s started…

So, yes. He will ‘obsessively’ love you. But it would be less… ‘secretly following you in real life’ and more ‘just checking through the cameras.’

Something that hopefully you wouldn’t be aware of any time soon.

After all, you had a real communicative relationship with him now!

Why would he jeopardize that?

Better yet, if you ever feel unsafe from other stalkers, you could always stop by his place. He’s probably stronger than you if you want someone intimidating around to scare off the creeps!

“Hey, [REDACTED]?” You hesitantly asked, god, this was embarrassing… But he was the only person that you could go to that would hopefully not ask too many questions about your request.

You hated his guts, but at the end of the day, if you had to admit it (to yourself, never to him, God forbid), [REDACTED] was a dependable guy. And he seemed to respect you at times…

So that meant he was one of the people you trusted.

“Yeah, angel? Do you want some help with tutoring? Y’know, cause I’m sooo smart?” He made some offhanded comments with a snarky tone as he gathered his items into his bag before seeing you were serious. His grin fell. “Ah, sorry. …What is it?”

“Well- Uh— I-” You stammered, regret flashing through your face. Did you really have to ask him…?

No.

It was a problem, hopefully they’d help you out.

No matter how rude or condescending he acted, [REDACTED] was a good person nonetheless. He does realize that there are days you’re not up to bantering with him and leaves you alone… And days where he makes sure you’re not sick under the guise of it not being a fair fight.

Well, they wouldn’t like all this hesitation…

Better to be blunt about it. “I think I have a stalker.”

His face immediately fell to concern, “Shit. You’re sure?” He quickly shoved everything into his bag before swinging it over his shoulder as you gave him a brusque nod. He hesitantly hovered his hand over your shoulder, giving you a worried look, “That must be horrifying.”

[REDACTED]’s lip furled into a disgusted frown just thinking about the assholes out there who had even dared to scare you a bit. It was none of their goddamn business to stare, even breathe the same air, as his angel.

The fact that they had the gall to follow you around? Atrocious.

You let out a stuttered breath, body tensing at the adjective he had used. It was horrifying. You didn’t know where this stalker had come from… All you had known was that there was supposedly a creep on the loose and you didn’t need any sort of pervert interested in you… “I d-don’t need your concern, dumbass.” You gave him a quick, approving tilt of your head, letting him rest his hand on your shoulder, contrary to what you had huffed under your breath.

Something about the warmth of someone else grounded you, tethered you back to the world. It was a lot nicer than that paranoid feeling you’d been carrying with you lately. You hadn’t seen anyone you were close to, not wanting to bother them…

But with [REDACTED], it just felt… easier? You weren’t quite sure.

“I was just… y’know wondering if you might… wanna have me over for a couple days?” You awkwardly chuckled, maybe this was too much to ask of him… How could you phrase this so you didn’t seem too vulnerable…? Especially in front of your jerk rival. “I know you might not handle my presence with you for so long, you might even combust from being so close to me… My apartment just doesn’t feel… too safe right now.”

His face immediately softened, eyebrows unfurling from worry to concern and comforting features made their way to his face. He gave you a small smile, “Angel, you can drop by anytime you want. I don’t have experience with…creeps like that.” His mouth curled into a snarl, but immediately was washed over with a kind smile, “But if you feel more secure with someone like me around, then I’m more than glad too.” He paused, a smirk making its way to his face, “But I hope you aren’t doing this to scope out your competition. Wouldn’t be trying to find a flaw of mine, now are ya?”

Your body relaxed, as you let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. Before you heard his last quip at least.

You let out an annoyed and flabbergasted noise at his quip before rolling your eyes, “Oh? You’d be so flattered, wouldn’t you, [REDACTED]? I don’t even need to scope you out to beat you…!” You stopped before sighing, “But… Thanks for letting me stay at your place, I guess. I’ll need to pick up some of my shit at home before we go, that alright with you… 2nd place?” You jeered at the insult. After all, what were the two of you if not competitors for the highest mark in the class?

Friends? You scoffed at the notion fondly, if he were to ask, you wouldn’t say no.

But that was for you to know, and for him to never discover.

He softly smiled to himself, more than glad to see you back to your nature before looking down at you than winking, “Won’t be 2nd for too long, angel.”

You stared at him, beckoning him with you on your way out of the class, “Gonna walk me to the car? Can’t hurt to have people gape out my intellect without you there to rub it in. We both know I’m better anyway.”

He let out a series of breathless chuckles, “That’s my considerate rival now, always putting my needs above yours… I’m honored.”

“Good. C’mon now, [REDACTED].”

The two of you end up teasing each other, hurling insults, bickering and a bit of everything in almost every conversation.

It’s in your nature to be naturally competitive for some reason.

Maybe [REDACTED] just enjoys seeing how frustrated or worked up you get… It is kind of adorable.

The same goes for him too though…

You roll your eyes at him, a small scoff making it through your voice, “You beat me once. Don’t let it go to your head.”

He gave you a taunting grin, his eyes squinted, light blue twinkling with mischief. “Why? Are you jealous, angel?”

“What-” You made a sound of disbelief. He was acting like a child! “Wipe that stupid grin off your face, idiot! So you beat me by a couple points-”

“And you flaunt it when you beat me by even less…” He mumbled loud enough to himself that you could barely pick up on it.

“Hey! It’s different and you know it!” You huffed at him, “Whatever. Just… stop grinning like that, you look stupid.”

He shrugged his shoulders, a triumphant, lazy grin splayed on his features, “Make me.”

Your eye twitched at his threat. Ohhh, that punk did not just― You flexed your fingers as if that would calm you.

Of course, he had to beat you by a couple of points this one time… It was such a dumb project! You hissed at him under your breath, seeing that stupidly cocky grin on his face.

Why’d you have that dumb main character with little to no trauma, while he got the side character that hides all their insecurities but ends up projecting onto their kids?!

Unfair. That teacher was totally biased.

Giving [REDACTED] more work to analyze… making his grade go up from the research… Hrrr, so biased. So unfair.

He gave you a slitted-eye smile as if to mock your frustration. You grumbled in envy before glaring at him. You grab him by the collar, tough enough to pull him towards you but gentle enough for him to break out by choice, “You wish. What’s it take to shut that stupidly pretty mouth of yours, huh?”

Your eyes flickered between his widened, shocked blue eyes to those soft, kissable lips of his.

You did not like where this was going…

Or maybe you did.

You weren’t too sure, emotions get muddled easily… Love and hate have a fine line after all.

…So do fear and arou-

Nope! 

No way!

Those are not very ‘pure’ thoughts!

You pulled him closer to you by his shirt collar and tilted your head, “Maybe a kiss from a resident angel?” You practically snorted at the remark of that condescending nickname he used for you.

[REDACTED] stared at you, too stunned to speak as you huffed with pride, quickly letting go. You smirked, turning around after winking at him, shit-faced grin all on display, “Clearly, that worked.”

With no one in the class anymore, [REDACTED] was left by himself. Their jaw went slack for a bit before mumbling into his hand as you were far away, furious blush spreading through their cheeks.

“…Was that a promise?”

[tracyfan2005]

🦝🦝🦝 KIRKLOW'S RACCOON HOLE!🦝🦝🦝

Hello everyone! My name's Kirklow, however you can call me Kirk, Kir, Tracy Fan, Tracy Enjoyer and other nicknames. This is only the case if you ever got a pretty creative nickname for me, that I'd like to be called by you. I'm a profic, anti-harrassment and anti-censorship. I block freely, so you can expect what happens if you're gonna be an asshole. I'm multifandom, so there will be lots of fandoms there.

Minors, please don't interact with me - my blog is 18+ and, even if you would filter the #nsft tag, I prefer if you won't interact with me

🦝🦝🦝Please, read more under!🦝🦝🦝

The reason why I called myself "tracyfan2005" is simple - I absolutely adore Tracy, one of Kitty White's friends from the older cartoons that featured him, such as "Hello Kitty's Paradise", "Hello Kitty & Friends", "Growing up with Hello Kitty" and "Hello Kitty Ringo No Mori" anime. I literally love this little guy and those old cartoons, because of how enjoyable they were. Except for that raccoon dude, I enjoy the entire friend group, that I call them "London friends", because of all of those series, maybe except for "Ringo no Mori" took place in England, specifically - in London.

Because of that, if you see a tag "Kitty's London Friends" (if the post features Kitty) or "London Friends" (if the tag features just the friend group), then you know what does it mean.

Except for the original friend group, I love most of the characters from Sanrio, like the most popular ones, or the lesser known ones. However, I won't really talk about the recent stuff Sanrio did with the universe, such as adding Sanrio Town, separating Kitty from her London Friends, etc., so don't expect me to even talk, whenever I make a post about those critters, to include Sanrio Town.

The tags I will use are simple:

#kirklow's rants about things - I rant about various stuff

#kirklow draws stuff - the post is about a drawing I created

#kirklow's aus and headcanons - the post is about either an au or headcanons (it can be both at the same time)

#ramblings about stuff - I ramble about stuff

I might include more tags soon, however those will be the main ones.

I'm a darkshipper, comshipper and proshipper - so, expect me to post various things related to it, going from the "light-hearted" stuff to outright darkest stuff.

🦝🦝🦝My favourite problematic tropes are:🦝🦝🦝

big age gap,

teacher/student

incest in any form (parent/child, cousin/cousin, uncle/cousin etc.)

abusive relationships,

toxic behaviour that makes the character do horrible stuff,'

codependency (and when I say it, I mean the most heavy codependency you'd ever see!)

non/con

Abuser x Abused

Tortured x Torturer

Stalker x Someone who they're obsessed with

torture and abuse

toxic manipulation

mind rape

miscarriage

l0li and sh0ta

I will tag and warn about them, so you will be aware what you're going into, when you look at the account.

I won't say any names of my other accounts, until I will figure things out.

So, that's all, folks, I hope you're going to enjoy it there!

[vargskelegore]

new person, same old mistakes. || scotty x black!fem!reader ♡

author’s note: back from my break + a new fic that isn’t shuri! however it still is a letitia character LMFAO. this time i’m writing about her role as scotty in the mini series cucumber & banana! me and @erensslut​ watched it together, had a blast, nd now i’m writing about this crazy lil girl. please watch the episode before reading this fic because it’ll make more sense.

this is dedicated to the black girls who felt weird about scotty going after someone that was..... yknow. LMFAOOOOO. also, reader wears wigs!! it’ll be useful info later on.

originally this was in my drafts for a very long time because of the tiktok discourse surrounding letitia fanfictions. now that the drama has died down, i feel more comfortable to post this. warnings are stated for a reason. enjoy!

warnings: stalking. scotty is a stalker, if you couldn’t tell from the episode. don’t like it, don’t read. i’m not gonna sugarcoat it LOL.

plot: even after moving on from yvonne burgess, seemingly becoming a different and changed person, scotty seems to find another girl to latch onto. this time a vans employee in the mall.

word count: 2.1k

taglist (I FINALLY MADE IT, YALL. also some people i unfortunately couldn’t tag?? it wouldn’t let me ://): @lovelyaliengirl  @szalipcombo ​ @anonymous-platypus1 @randomhoex @axailslink @yvesredhair @marssmorales @thesecretwriterblog @gialove11 @demie90s @skimm0nzz @mlmilani​ @skimm0nzz​ @cloudyydr3ams @natsgirlfriend​ @verachii​ ​

the mall. it was a wonderful place to be. kinda. malls were beginning to become a dying breed, and they tended to only spike when it came to holiday season. annoying kids running around, adults frantically trying to find gifts to buy people last second, and so much more.

well, it was holiday season, and all of those things listed above were happening at that very moment for you. see, you work at vans. it’s not much money, but it is some money. you definitely don’t get paid enough to have kids running around the store all the time, or people trying to steal, but you couldn’t be bothered to do anything about it.

it was a busy day, of course, and so helping people out was never an issue since it was your job. “excuse me, ma’am? i’m trying to find shoes for my son-- he skates.” a short, older lady came up to you and you smiled back at her and nodded. “oh, of course. come, show me what type you were looking for?” you used your customer service voice as you waited for her to lead the way.

as you two were walking, you couldn’t help but to think about how things were going lately. lately it had felt like you were being watched. it was a weird instinct, but a possible, truthful claim. you had told your co-workers about this before, but they laughed it off. to them it wasn’t serious. just a practical joke.

you could feel that feeling of being watched again. in the background, you could faintly hear someone calling for you.

“hello? miss? i have the shoes.”

it took you a moment before you focused again, shaking your head and sighing, you pretended to be tired. “oh, gosh, i’m so sorry. i’ve been working since this morning so i’m very tired! back to what we were doing.. what size did you want these shoes in, so i can check the back--?”

“a size eight, please.” you smiled and nodded, before making your way to the back to grab the shoes. about six minutes passed, and you were back with the shoes for the customer. you led her to the front of the store to check out, and you turned your head to look through the display window, where your displayed shoes sat. then, all of a sudden, your stomach did flips.

your instinct was right. you were being watched.

in the very distance-- where the food court lies- there was a girl. she couldn’t be too old. short, straight hair. she was tiny to say the least, like she really couldn’t hurt a fly, and she was interested in you. really interested in you.

it all started two weeks ago, when she tagged along with her friends to go to the mall. nothing serious, she just came with since they invited her. there wasn’t much she could buy in the mall, so window shopping was her best option.

and that’s when she saw you.

you were incredibly gorgeous. the way you smiled at people that walked inside of the store, how attentive you were, the way you walked around.. and all you were doing was your job. you work in retail, so everything that seemed normal to you, was perfect to her.

you were completely oblivious to this girl and her behavior, until you weren’t. see, for the first week, everything felt normal. you went about your job and duties normally. but on the second week, you were really starting to feel watched. you weren’t sure if it was because of you watching horror movies recently, but now everything felt off.

meanwhile, here was scotty. trying to get as much information on you as possible because she was so interested in you. she’d ask her friends to go to the mall practically every weekend just so she could see you, but she realized you weren’t always there when she was there.

it only clicked with her some time later that you definitely have a work schedule. which only meant she had to start coming on weekdays now, no biggie.. for her. not for you, though. that was when your weird stalking feeling started to come in- when she started coming on weekdays.

there were so many times when scotty wanted to come into your store; but she never knew what to say. ask for assistance, maybe? nah. vans were so expensive, why would she even bother asking for something she knew damn well she couldn’t afford?

regardless, she admired you from a distance. she managed to pick up a few facts about you whenever you walked out of the store on your break, walking and talking with your coworkers.

“ma’am, i’ve been standing here waiting for assistance and you haven’t even rung me up.” the lady you were helping earlier scoffed, and you snapped out of your slightly terrified demeanor. the girl you saw earlier was no longer there. she must’ve ran away the moment you two made eye contact.

“i am so so sorry, don’t know what’s up with me.” you awkwardly laughed, lying. you knew exactly what was wrong but you didn’t even want to think about it.

you continued to ring the lady up, but your heart was pounding, and your mind was going crazy. you handed the lady her bag, and she snatched it, looking at you like you were crazy. honestly, you felt like you were going crazy. maybe you were just seeing things from the lack of sleep. it was all a blur.

you sighed, leaning on the counter as you looked back out the display window.

“hey, y/n?” you slightly jumped, looking at your manager with a slight embarrassed look.

“sorry for frightening you-- i think you should go on break. you seem so out of it. i’ll cover for you, just go get something to eat or drink.” your manager explained, and you sighed, nodding and grabbing your bag.

you walked out of the store, slightly shaking. ‘why on earth did you leave the store? you now have a higher chance of being hurt!’ you told yourself in your head, but you simultaneously ignored your own words at the same time.

you stood outside the store, looking around frantically before pulling your phone out and looking down at it. you opened the weather app, hoping to god you looked busy.

meanwhile, in the bathroom, there was scotty, panting like crazy as she stood in a stall, slightly shaking. you were never meant to see her. she was only supposed to be admiring you from a distance, not calling the store’s phone number or anything-- or that’s what her coworkers told her to do. be less creepy. that plan absolutely backfired.

just as scotty was about to exit the stall, someone entered the bathroom. it was you. she looked up from the floor to see you, and you turned your head to see her. just as you were about to holler out, she put a finger to her own lips and motioned to the other people in the bathroom.

you looked at her like she was crazy. because other people were in the bathroom, she was about to motion for you to leave the bathroom with her- but immediately decided against it because she realized how that would even look.

you two awkwardly stared at each other before a lady exited the other stall, looking weirdly at the two of you as she washed her hands. scotty looked down at the floor again, and you looked back at your phone, trying to seem like you were just chilling on your break.

the silence was.. terrible to say the least. that woman took her sweet time washing her hands, and she used the hand dryer instead of paper towel. after about five minutes, the lady walked out of the bathroom, looking back at the two of you weirdly, before turning back around and leaving.

out of your peripheral vision, you watched the woman leave. once you were certain that she was gone, you sighed, and looked back up at scotty, who was still staring at the floor.

“i can explain, really i can. i’m sorry.” her voice was incredibly soft-- timid. you weren’t expecting it. in fact, you were taken aback. you couldn’t speak for a moment.

she slowly looked back up, looking at you with a face that was genuinely sorry. you sighed and nodded. “you can explain yourself-- but not here. and not in an entirely closed off area. i’m keeping my phone with me in case you--”

“i understand, and i would never do anything like that. honestly. we can go to the front of the mall if you feel safer.” she was quick to respond, and the attentiveness made you less scared.

nodding again, you walked out of the bathroom and she followed behind. you two made your way out of the mall, and you texted your boss to let him know you’d need a minute, and he responded happily.

as you two were making your way outside, scotty was incredibly terrified. this happened before and she didn’t want you to respond so negatively.

you sat down on a bench that was near the entrance, and she sat next to you, keeping her distance out of respect.

“explain.” you simply said.

“i know how bad this looks,” she began, and you scoffed, nodding as she looked down at her hands. “and i’m sorry. this isn’t.. the first time this has happened.” you looked at her, an expression that was mentally asking her if she was crazy.

“um. i saw you about two weeks ago.. doing your job. i thought you were really beautiful, but i was too afraid to say anything so i.. just kinda watched you from a distance.” her voice got small at the end. you didn’t say anything, feeling as if she wasn’t done talking.

“i understand how bad this looks, so if you’d like for me to avoid coming to the mall when you work, i understand.” she was silent after that, giving you the floor to talk.

“i guess i’m just trying to figure out.. why? like, why me?” this question was a gateway for scotty to go into a monologue, but she tried to keep it as short as possible.

“you’re beautiful. you’re always so nice to customers and it’s comforting to know that if i walked into that store and.. i guess, you saw me in there, you’d be nice to me too. your hair color always matches your shoes-- i think it’s so unique. you have a new makeup look everyday too. you just put so much effort into your appearance and i admire it. even if you wore no makeup, you’d still look perfect.” she rambled.

your heart was racing and you didn’t even realize it. you had it all wrong about this girl. she didn’t mean any harm but it definitely came off that way. it took you a moment to say anything.

“you don’t have to say anything either, i’m happy to just leave you alone and--”

“what’s your name?”

scotty looked at you, furrowing her eyebrows. “uh-- my name is scotty. scotty.. well-- it’s actually vivienne scott, but everyone calls me scotty.” she sputtered, fidgeting with her hands.

you nodded. “well, scotty. i’m gonna assume you know my name already; but just incase, it’s y/n. i’m really flattered by.. what you noticed about me. and the compliments, too. and i’d love to get to know you better, but just.. don’t do this anymore, please? you had me paranoid for like an entire week.” scotty was quick to nod and agree.

“of course, i’m so sorry.”

“apology.. accepted. i’m willing to be your friend.” scotty’s heart slightly fluttered-- friend was not the title she wanted, of course, but she was willing to work her way up to more than the title of friend. she smiled. “i’m really happy to hear that.”

“are you up for meeting with me on my lunch break tomorrow?” you asked, and scotty, slightly shocked you even asked her that, nodded. “oh, i’d.. love that, actually.”

“great. my lunch is at 11:00, and it ends at 12:00. it was nice having an actual convo, scotty.” you softly smiled before getting up and walking back inside the mall.

“oh yeah, definitely. thank you for the information.. bye, y/n.” scotty stayed seated at the bench, and watched as you walked back inside, the way your hips naturally had a slight sway as you walked.

but scotty already knew when your lunch break was and when it ended.

[angieblogging]

I miss you, I’m sorry.

TW: drug use mentioned, grief, mourning etc.

relationships: Maria Hill/Natasha Romanov (past) Yelena Belova & Natasha Romanov (past),Yelena Belova & Maria Hill.

additional tags: grief, Natasha Romanoff Is Dead, Soft Yelena Belova, Maria Hill & Yelena Belova Friendship.

prompt (last two quotes): @prompts-in-a-barrel

read on ao3

——————

Yelena’s days have been blending forever, since the news of Natasha’s death reached her. The heavy feeling on her chest has not left ever since, even drugs didn’t help her anymore. The white powder was stashed all around the room, but she had no energy or intention of getting it, that would require to get out of bed, which she stayed in for the past two days. There was a small refrigerator in her apartment, that required her to get up too, so she didn’t eat much, only when she had to get up to the bathroom and passed it, it was convenient.

The feelings had nowhere to go, she felt as if she was sinking and now there was no one to save her, the one that would save her was the reason she was sinking. The only comfort she had was from looking at the old photos from the album, Melina gave her. It was all fake, but not for her, not for the girls in the photos and not for her now. She also called her sister, every once in awhile, just to hear her voice one more time, because what if she forgets how she sounds or looks? What kind of a horrible sister would that make her?

So that’s what she did, again and again and again, she figured maybe the Avengers were paying her phone bill, because if not the number would’ve been given to someone else. She hated the thought of it, she would pay for the bills herself if she could. Her eyes flickered across the room, as she breathed heavily, quitting is hard, but she has to, for Natalia. Yelena knew that her sister would hate to see her this way, with no energy to shower, eat, all she did was sleep and think to the point where she had a headache that refused to leave her, no matter how many medications she took, so she gave up, just like with everything else in life.

Because she saw no life besides Natasha and the blip made it this way, Natasha was gone and Yelena could do nothing, could not go back in time, could not save her big sister, like she saved her. Yelena stared at the bright screen that was the only thing giving off lights in her apartment. It was around 3AM, per usual. She slept through the day and was wide awake at night, ready to do what she does every night, call Natalia. She picked the number and put her phone against her ear as the phone rang and her breath got more and more shallow with each beep. She couldn’t stop the tears flooding into her eyes, as she thought of her sister, her poor poor sister.

Her breath stopped as the voicemail did not appear, instead a voice on the other end, a raspy voice, definitely of a woman, definitely not her sisters. Which she hoped for, she hoped to one day hear her voice, hear Natalia pick up, it was impossible, but she could always hope. 

“Hello? Hello?! Who is this? What are you some kind of a stalker? This isn’t funny, you can’t keep calling this number, it’s not like she’s picking up.” 

Yelena felt her throat getting tight, as she tried to figure out what she should say, the phone was definitely still owned by Natasha, her voicemail was there just yesterday, but who the hell has her phone?

“Um…” she cleared her throat as she tried to make the tears go away and focus. “I’m not a stalker… And I-I know she’s not picking up, okay?!” Her voice went from trembling and uncertain to upset, because how could they assume she was joking.

“Then who are you? And how did you even get Tasha’s number, huh?”

Tasha. Oh her dear dear Tasha, Yelena thought to herself as she wiped the tears with the sleeve of her sweater.

“It’s not saved? In her phone?” A bit of disappointed Yelena asked, because it was clear that her sister, in fact had not saved her number. 

“It is, but she saved no numbers with names, so why don’t introduce yourself?” The woman seemed to soften up, by her tone, but that’s when Yelena realised she also had no idea who she was talking to.

“Yelena, Yelena Belova. And I would also like to know who I am talking to!” She demanded, her tone was uneasy as she kept switching between tough and soft. Her mind was a mess, you could see that and hear that, but she has a mission, find out who has Natalia’s phone and maybe get it back with some luck.

“Oh…Yelena.” The name sounded as if the woman said it a thousand times, but Yelena never even heard her, she may be grieving, but she hasn’t lost her skills. “My name is Maria, Maria Hill. I know that you, you don’t know me. But she talked about you all the time, at least before the blip… I left for the 5 years and…” The voice on the other end broke slightly down as she took a long deep breath in and out. “You already know what happens next.”

Yelena sniffed as she tried to think, did Natasha ever mention a Maria? No, no… she didn’t.

“Why do you have her phone? Who gave it to you? Who are you to her? Why did you pick up? What—“ Yelena went out and asked everything right away, Maria interrupted her as she started to explain.

“I’m Maria Hill-Romanov, her wife… That’s why I have her phone, it was given to me after she passed, along…most of her stuff, some got lost…” She paused for a second as she breathed heavily, trying to keep herself from falling apart or spiralling into a panic attack.

“I picked up, because you do this every night, every night around this time you call, sometimes twice. But you don’t expect an answer, do you?”

“No, no I do not. I just want to hear her, one more time. I don’t want to forget.” Yelena’s voice cracked mid-sentence. 

“I understand.” Maria says as she moves the phone, possibly away from her face, Yelena could still her her slightly, the woman weeping on the other end.

“You can call here then. It’s okay, I pay the bill for her phone, so it won’t get disconnected as long as I’m alive.” Maria tried to comfort her, the best she could and she was not good in that. How could she comfort another if she couldn’t comfort herself, she thought.

Soon after that the call went silent, the two just sat there for good two minutes, crying and wiping their tears, but not being alone was their comfort, it was odd for sure, but grief is an odd feeling itself. You miss them, but you can’t get them back and you know it, but you don’t know it. And it sometimes takes you down or hits you when you hear their favourite song or see their favourite movie, you guys watched together a thousand times. It strikes you then, tries to keep you down, until you give up.

“You know… It’s strange I know she’s dead… I’ve accepted it, but no matter how much time goes by, I still feel like I’m just waiting for her to comeback.” Maria’s voice was shaky, the two stayed on the call together for two hours, for two hours they talked, cried and there was also silence, but it did not bother them. 

However the call had to end, Maria had a job in the morning, she continued to work alongside Fury and whatever was left of SHIELD. She had to go and she hated to leave Yelena.

“It’s not strange, I feel the same. Like life stopped then she left and can’t start until she’s here again.”

[orchidsncrake]

and watch them fall

pairing: joe goldberg/rhys montrose

rating: explicit

tags: au - canon divergence, s4 rewrite, obsession, strangers to lovers, POV Joe Goldberg, murder, bookstore owner Joe Goldberg, Rhys Montrose is a real person, developing relationship, slow build, eventual relationship, eventual smut, tags to be updated

word count: 3,512

chapter 2/?

ao3

A mugging. First, it was a mugging, and now, it was a jealous stalker. Only Malcolm Harding could afford to die twice. Joe squints at the TV critically, eyes trying to bore through the little screen tucked into the corner of the bookstore. The few customers mill about its cramped floor, fingers drifting over books they won’t buy, reading summaries and feigning interest. An older woman – she must be in her 70s – comes up to the counter and sets a cookbook down, then follows Joe’s gaze to the television.

“Could you turn it up, dear?” Joe nods and grabs the remote from beside the register, cranking the volume. The posh English accents bark into the small building, demanding attention.

" ...Police have arrested Maddie Key for the murder of Malcolm Harding, whose body was found in his flat in London on Tuesday. Law enforcement says Key has supplied a confession, claiming that she did not intend to kill Harding, but when he rejected her romantic advances, she flew into a rage. Law enforcement is seeking charges of stalking and murder, but Key’s lawyers are alleged to be pursuing voluntary manslaughter on grounds of insanity. The autopsy puts his time of death sometime late Monday. This story will be updated as law enforcement… ”

The old woman scoffs, and Joe returns the volume to a low murmur as Maddie Key’s mugshots flash across the screen.  She shakes her head and faces Joe as he rings up her book. “Who goes and kills someone they love? Doesn’t make any good sense to me.”

I do. “No sense at all, ma’am.” 

She nods curtly, makes a chuffing sound, and signs the receipt messily. She tucks the cookbook under her arm and looks at the TV on her way out. “Bloody psychos.” The bell chimes, and the woman is gone. Joe signs, fixing his hair momentarily before sliding out from behind the counter. The landline suddenly rings behind him, and he starts, clipping his hip into the counter’s edge in his haste to get to the phone. He hisses a swear, pressing his lips together in annoyance, and picks up.

“Subtexts, this is John speaking. How may I help you?”

“Oh, lovely. May I speak to the owner?” A feminine voice chimes loudly, making Joe recoil for a moment. He clears his voice and straightens his posture uselessly.

“Speaking.”

“Perfect!” She bubbles. “My name is Irene Crosby. I’m the PR representative for Mr. Rhys Montrose, I’m sure you’ve heard of him.” She pauses, expecting some sort of fawning and only getting shocked silence. “Well, Mr. Montrose is set to go on a second tour for his memoir since the first was such a hit, and I’m looking to connect a bit more with the common people of London for this one.” Real nice, lady. “And Mr. Montrose visited your bookstore a couple days ago and raved about how… quaint it was! Now, I’d like to offer you the honor of hosting a meet-and-greet for London’s next mayor in your very own bookstore!”

Joe stares at the phone. This woman works for Rhys fucking Montrose. The man he assumed he’d never see again because, hello, why would he?  He’s tempted to say no just because of her pretentious attitude or maybe go full American and hang up without another word, but he doesn’t. In his hand sits his connection to Rhys. Rhys wants to visit him. Or his bookstore, at the very least, which is still something. Still – would it be beyond stupid to accept and welcome him back here? What if he makes a fool of himself? Would it be even worse to decline? He doesn’t even want to imagine the impression that would give, especially if Rhys runs and gets elected. Then he’s just the guy who told the mayor to fuck off and hold his meeting elsewhere. He clears his throat and pinches the bridge of his nose, forcing his foot to stop tapping.

“When would this be?” He asks, trying to sound more rational than he feels.

“Oh, well, let’s see. It’s the 24th, and the tour is going until the 15th of next month… so, how about Saturday?”

Joe pulls the phone away from his ear to stare judgmentally. He smiles apologetically at a customer when they give him a look. “As in this Saturday?” “Yes, this Saturday. How does that sound?”

“Impromptu,” he blurts. The line goes silent for a long moment.

“Yes, well, you see,” Irene starts nervously. “Oh, alright. Mr. Montrose’s second tour has already commenced, and he wants to add your bookstore as a last-minute venue. This of it as an encore. He said the atmosphere would be charming for a smaller event, as he quickly tires of the extravagant panels.” She pauses for a moment. “So, what do you think?”

He should decline. Hosting a last-minute PR event for one of London's most famous men is a bad idea from every technical standpoint he can imagine. The store is too small, and there isn’t any seating other than some library-style tables and chairs in the back. Never mind the fact that Rhys is, all things considered, a complete stranger. Who sics their PR manager on a bookstore clerk they met once a couple of days ago? Crazy people, that’s who.

Still, is it not flattering to have made a good enough impression to get this opportunity? It’s a compliment, really, and a huge one at that. It’d be rude to decline. If it goes well, he may even be able to buy some armchairs for the store through publicity and increased sales. It’s practical. “What do I need to do to prepare?” Lunatic. 

“Oh, wonderful, Joe!” He cringes at the name but quickly reasons it as a misstep on Irene’s part. No deeper meaning, just a reckless disregard for the most basic information about a person she called. Next, he’ll probably be Jim. “I’ll send over a folder. What’s your email?” He rattles off the handle to her, listening to the smashing of keys in the background. One loud click and the noise stops. “Perfect! Please contact me if you have any questions. Mr. Montrose will be thrilled!” Joe opens his mouth to wish her goodbye or thank her for the opportunity, maybe even suggest a Xanax, but the line goes dead. He sighs, sets the phone in its base, and looks over the counter. The same customer squints at him suspiciously and then looks at the phone. 

“Witness protection,” he says before he can catch himself. The customer only grins, and Joe smiles back faintly. God bless cultural sarcasm. 

***

The clocks are really starting to piss him off. He stares at the ceiling, listening to the soft hum of the occasional car driving by his apartment. Going postal with a hammer on everything ticking in his apartment seems increasingly rational. He rolls over to look at his alarm clock – digital and silent, thank god – and groans. 4am. What an awful time of night. The only people awake now are petty criminals, insomniacs, and bookstore owners obsessing over the potential next mayor. He feels ridiculous even as his mind whirs, throwing imagined images of and conversations with Rhys at him. He knows it’s absurd, and yet he can’t sleep to stop it. Sleeping means closing his eyes, and closing his eyes means being greeted with an absurdly charismatic smile and gunmetal blue eyes. He shouldn’t even know how to imagine his face with such detail, but the television is constantly streaming an interview with him or showing off pictures of his stupid fucking face. Or maybe he’s constantly watching that one news channel and hasn’t changed it in a week. Either or.

He swears and rolls onto his back again, blinking at the ceiling. The irrational anger part of sleeplessness is beginning to kick in, making his skin feel too tight. His own breathing pisses him off. He squirms a bit and lays his hand over his abdomen limply, the other pressing against his eyes. Why had Rhys sent his hyperactive flying monkey on him? And complimented its ‘ambiance’ of all things. As much as he loves it, the only time the media would praise his bookstore would be in retrospect once it’d burnt down. Oh yes, such a lovely little place with its lack of floor space and suffocatingly tall shelves. Such a shame it’s all ashes now. Now, onto Jack with the weather. 

It had to have been to see him, hadn’t it? Joe thrashes out with his foot, tugging his comforters to one side, and removes his hand from his face. He knows he has a certain tendency for presumption, but he can’t discern any other reasoning. London is full of bookstores with nicer atmospheres and more reliant HVAC systems – so why his? He can’t imagine he’d charmed Rhys to that degree or even charmed him at all. Joe’d felt like the one on his back foot when they’d met, vulnerable to the flurry of unfailing comebacks and the smile that reached his eyes. He wonders if Rhys is always that lighthearted, or was it just for his public image? He clearly cared about it, if his attire was anything to go by. He had only been wearing a sweater and slacks, an admittedly casual outfit, but they had been noticeably well-fitting. A tailor, then? However, Joe doubts all the credit is due to the clothing. He’d read from some particularly invasive article that Rhys follows a strict workout routine, including but not limited to calisthenics and ungodly amounts of cardio. That has to do the body good–

Oh, what the fuck? 

That’s… new. Not entirely welcome, either. Joe yanks his hand back from where it’d been creeping down his abdomen and stuffs it under his leg as if it needs to be restrained. As if it’s not part of him. He stares at himself incredulously, shocked by his own train of thought. He shifts and realizes, mortified, that he’s half hard. What is that about? He – he doesn’t like men. Even when Cary, who is objectively the prime specimen of masculinity, had stood in front of him jerking off (a memory that softens him a bit, thankfully), he’d felt nothing but uncomfortable. Why is it now that he’s fantasizing about another man’s body? It wasn’t really fantasizing, was it? Can’t a guy just idly wonder about another’s workout routine? Sure, but you can’t then wonder what he looks like naked and try to jack off about it.

Joe groans, throws the comforters back impatiently, and sits up, running a hand through his hair. 4:30 am. His socked feet thud dully on the floor as he pads to the bathroom, almost making the mistake of turning the light on. He yanks his hand back, not wanting to be flashbanged. He pisses quickly, happy for once that his hamster-wheel of a brain is a turn-off, washes his hands, and wipes them on his sweats. Joe freezes a step out of the doorway. A dark figure ducks out of his periphery, and his head is consumed by his own heartbeat. Had he left the door open?

No, of course not. He’s better than that. Still, as he slides down the hall quietly, he tests the knob. Still locked. He’s not hallucinating, is he? He’s unsure if he’d rather have that or someone in his apartment. Reaching the junction between the hall and the living room, he cranes his head in, half expecting to be hit from behind. It doesn’t happen, and air rushes from his lungs in relief. Emboldened, he scans the entire room and decides it’s empty. As he turns back to the bedroom, the wind whips into his apartment. He furrows his brows and returns to find a window open a few inches. Confused, he shuts it firmly and locks it. Odd

That handled, he pads back and crawls into bed, turning his alarm clock to face the wall. His pillow is warm, and he flips it and smashes his face into it. It strikes him for the umpteenth time how ridiculous it is that to fall asleep, you have to mimic it when the last thing he wants to do right now is lay motionless and control his breathing. The strife of being alive, he supposes. He doesn’t know what time it is when he finally falls asleep, but the last thing he registers is the tweeting of a bird and the flash of rage that goes with it.

***

The email from irenecrosby@gmail.com (how much did she have to pay to get that handle?) arrives promptly in his inbox at 8am. Joe’s phone dings where it sits on the counter as he makes coffee, and he reaches for it, browsing through the slew of PDFs and links attached. He would think he’s being visited by the queen with how exhaustive it all is. The message of each is essentially the same: don’t ask for personal photographs, no recording, and don’t tell your friends. He half expects to find a DNR at the bottom of the list, but he doesn’t. Joe’s phone returns to the counter when the coffee maker bubbles loudly, going about preparing a mug and pulling out the creamer. The kitchen reeks of cheap coffee, but it’s welcome. White blooms up from the mug’s bottom as he sweetens it, then returns everything to its rightful place and settles at his dining table. 

He reads the lists carefully on his laptop and finds that most of what he’s instructed to do is clean. While vaguely offensive because it presumes that he doesn’t ordinarily clean, it is easy enough. He’s to close the bookstore all day Saturday, and the event will start at 11am. The PR team will arrive at 9am, and Rhys himself will be at 10am. It runs until 4pm, leaving an hour after for the unofficial signing session (presumably to affluent customers who have enough money to presume time doesn’t apply to them; evidently, it doesn’t). Another hour after that is allotted to disassembling whatever decorative banners and balloon nonsense the PR team will desecrate his bookstore with. That means eight hours of Rhys in his bookstore, and even the presumed presence of Irene the Hurricane can’t dispirit Joe.

He’s suddenly acutely concerned about what he’ll wear. He wrinkles his nose as he sips his coffee, disgusted at himself. He’s thinking like a teenage girl, but he wants to be presentable for the event. Isn’t that reasonable? A possible mayoral candidate is going to be in his store, and it’s an excellent opportunity for publicity for Rhys and Subtexts, and it’s only reasonable to look good when he knows there’ll be cameras–

Fuck! Cameras! How could he have been so stupid? He can’t be surrounded by cameras; he’s supposed to be dead. While highly effective in obscuring his face, the beard isn’t cover enough, especially when he’s going to be in close quarters with the literal press. And he didn’t exactly ‘die’ under unassuming circumstances. He doesn’t have the luxury of melting into the muddled group of the nameless dead. He sets his mug down and scrubs his hands over his face, eyes darting to his phone. He could cancel. He could call Irene, curtly call everything off, and then hang up before she tries to convince him otherwise. But what would Rhys think? 

He can’t think about Rhys right now. He needs to do the reasonable thing and continue disappearing into London. Oh god, what if someone recognizes him in the back of a photo, and it gets back to the States? He’d have to run again to some even less favorable corner of the world. What if he had to hurt someone to get away? That’s precisely the last thing he wants, and he’d have to uproot his life all over. The skin of his face tightens as panic sets in, and he hardly notices that he’s rocking in his chair. His phone screen suddenly jumps to life, ringing deafeningly into the room. He blinks at the name, finding there is none. Just an unknown number. He’s unsure what possesses him, but he lunges for it, fingers fumbling over the screen until he accepts the call.

“Jonathan Moore?” His voice is shakier than he’d like it to be. The voice that hums over the line almost makes him drop his phone.

“John? This is Rhys. Rhys Montrose.” Joe stands up abruptly, almost knocking his chair over. He catches it with a bitten-back curse, then smooths his hair. He can’t think of what to say.

“Oh, Mr. Montrose. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you. I got a call from Ms. Crosby-”

He gets cut off by warm laughter. The sound seeps into his chest, soothing his panic like honeyed tea. He exhales heavily, lets his shoulders droop, and slumps back into his chair. “Please, just call me Rhys,” he says. “Irene told me you agreed to hold the event, and I wanted to call you to thank you myself.”

“Oh–,” Joe starts, then takes a breath again. He just needs to quit panicking; he’s not some prey animal, and Rhys doesn’t bite. “I appreciate that. I was surprised to hear from her.”

“Ah, yes, well, it was admittedly an unusual ask. An impulsive one, at that.” Rhys exhales, sounding timid. Joe cocks his head curiously. “Which is why I was so pleased to hear of your acceptance. I trust you got the email from her this morning?”

“Yes, I did. I’ve been reading through the PDFs, though I’m only part way through.”

Rhys laughs, and Joe can imagine his smile. “To be entirely honest with you, most of them are bullshit.” Joe straightens at Rhys’ swearing. He doesn’t know why he likes it so much. Must be the accent. “It’s all largely bureaucratic and functionally useless. As long as you don’t outright stab me, you should be fine.”

Joe grins, air puffing from his nose. “That’s a pretty low bar to set. What if I had a history of stabbing mayoral candidates?” He knocks his palm into his forehead as he says it. Really?

“I’d still be safe, wouldn’t I? I don’t fit the M.O. quite yet.” Oh, he’s funny now.

Joe taps his forehead a few times, scolding himself. It doesn’t stop him. “I guess you’ll escape the event unscathed.”

Rhys’ voice rumbles with laughter. “From you, at least. Fans can be a bit touchy, but luckily, I have a cockney goon-squad to deal with that.”Goon-squad? “Now, I don’t mean to hold you too long–” Please do. Wait, what? “– so I’ll let you get your day started. Thank you again for accepting. I think it’ll do the book well. I’ll see you Saturday, yeah, John?”

Joe swallows, trying and failing to find a way to extend the conversation. “Yeah, I’ll see you Saturday. Uh, good luck with your ‘goon-squad.’”

Rhys laughs. “I knew I wasn’t going to get away with that.” The call ends.

Joe drops his phone on the table and plants his elbows just to facepalm. Did he just threaten to stab Rhys? He drops his hands and stands up to wash his mug. Mortifying, unintentional threats aside, it had been thoughtful of Rhys to give him a call. Not only thoughtful, but it had dissolved all worry about the event, probably dangerously so. He could dodge a few cameras, couldn’t he? He’s evaded the less-than-rigid line between life and death (at least legally). The English paparazzi are nothing in comparison.

Joe sighs and sets the mug on the drying rack upside down. It had been irrational to panic and even crazier to consider canceling. He can’t do that to Rhys, not when the other had specially requested his bookstore. It would be rude. Worse than that, he’d forfeit a second chance to talk to him. He needs to meet Rhys again. He couldn’t read Rhys as well as he could the others, and the not knowing is killing him. He shakes his head at the grouping; Rhys is not one of them. He’s different. Rhys could be a friend, a confidant – well, maybe not that far. Rhys may be remarkably intelligent even in the first meeting, but he surely wouldn’t be down for befriending a serial killer. No matter how much of a progressive he is.

That settles it, then. Joe’ll clean, help decorate, and hide the corner as the media have their field day. He doesn’t think that’d come off as too weird. What else would a bookstore owner be around a celebrity and his followers but awkwardly-almost-creepily shy and holed up behind the counter? He looks up at the clock; 9am. Picking up his keys, he makes for the apartment door and then locks it behind him. He gazes down the stairs at the wooden floors of his bookstore. Time to clock in, sell books, pretend to care about unprompted personal anecdotes, and not obsess over the fact that Rhys will be back in a matter of days.

[sheisjoeschateau]

“You’re there. You were always there.”

A MULTI-PART FANFICTION SERIES, INSPIRED BY STRANGER THINGS, WRITTEN BY MISHA ST. JAMES.

Steve Harrington x fem!character. Childhood friends to lovers.

Slow burn. Angst. Romance. Smut with plot. Spin-off of pre-existing character.

A note from the writer:

—

Hello there darlings. What started off as a rough one-shot concept inspired by my rewatching Stranger Things season one for the billionth time evolved into my new favorite fan fiction series that I have written and created. This truly has become my baby. I said it in my original post when leaving a sneak preview of this work of mine…but I’ll say it again. This piece really has become my baby.

I overthink everything. I like to dive deep beneath the surface of things and overthink things into magnificent new realities. A seemingly random (almost forgettable) character in this show ended up making my mind spiral. As a writer, I believe that all characters in books and cinema have purpose. So naturally, my mind wanted to make something of a character that only appears at random yet crucial parts of the show’s story.

Nicole only appeared in season one and she was assumed to be a friend of Steve’s. To us, she was no one. Yet the Duffers introduced us to her as if she was an already established character in the series. Steve seemed almost too comfortable with her, like there was history between them. But we never explored that past the first season. That really started to bug me during this last binge-watch I had. So being the over dramatic writer that I am, I decided to make something of it myself. And damn, did it just…flow. I had no plans of making this such a big series but yeah, here we fucking are.

I gave her my last name because, well, *hair flip* I’m a narcissistic bitch like that when it comes to writing. ;) So in this series of mine, she is written Nicole St. James. I took some inspiration from The Breakfast Club because, ya know, Claire Standish? Molly Ringwald was an iconic redhead in the 80s film world, and that role in particular really seemed to fit how I wrote Nicole while fitting how she was presented in the show. I also did not want to give her a predictable personality either (because, again, as a writer I’m complex like that). So I did not take the typical “mean girl” route with her character because that honestly would just hit a wall. I wanted there to be a reason for her her in this show. I think the actress who played her did a good job with it, given there wasn’t much for her to work with.

I actually researched the actress a bit (Glenellen Anderson) and she’s actually very talented. She said something in one of her interviews about her role being small in ST but serving a crucial part in the first season of the series, given her being the reason that Steve finds out about Jonathan taking the pictures in his yard that night. Idk tbh I lowkey feel like a stalker who’s obsessing over an actor before they make it big so that one day I can be like YEAH I KNEW SHE WAS COOL WHEN SHE WAS STILL UNDERRATED. Lol ok moving on —

So I guess that’s it then. Time for me to shut up and just let the story I’ve created speak for itself. Thank you to some of my favorite writers on here and fellow Steve Harrington fanatics for inspiring me to release my own work into this universe. I’ve been very hesitant but I am glad to finally be doing it. I want to hear your thoughts and honest opinion while also asking kindly that you keep my emo heart in consideration when doing so 👉🏻👈🏻 If I forgot to tag you, I sincerely apologize. Please remind me in comments so that I can remember next time!

*disclaimer: this is based on pre-existing characters. in the show, nicole is portrayed by a redheaded white female actress so I based my writing around that. I do not discriminate against ANY race or preferred gender roles who choose to read and engage with my stories.

Enjoy and please leave feedback :)

x, MISHA

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK ON ANY PLATFORMS WITHOUT PROPERLY CREDITING ME AS THE WRITER. I DO NOT GRANT PERMISSION FOR YOU TO CLAIM MY WRITING AND WORK AS YOUR OWN. YES, THIS IS A FAN FICTION BASED ON A PRE-EXISTING SHOW. HOWEVER THERE IS BASIC COURTESY TO BE EXPECTED IN THE WRITING COMMUNITY SO PLEASE RESPECT THAT. 🖤

Warnings: This is very much an 18+ written fan fiction series. Please read at your own risk. There is language, eventual mentions of blood and violence, drinking, sex, etc. There is also going to be mention of homophobia because the 80s were full of misogynistic men and women who were so unforgivingly dense (like fucking Tommy H. and Carol Perkins), so I want to address that as we eventually introduce Robin and Will into the series so that we can have our outstanding LGBTQ darlings welcomed and given the representation that they deserve.

—————

VOLUME I

“You’re there. You were always there.”

——————

Steve Harrington is six years old when he meets you: the girl who carries the other half of him with her. 

He first spotted her playing outside alone, in the yard right across from his. She has a big treehouse, and no one but herself to share it with. And even though you seem content — he doesn’t know why, but it makes him sad. Watching you alone, in your own great big world, and no one begging to share it with you. 

So after a week, he walks across the street to do something about it. He had watched you climb the little red ladder up to the top, making round trips with your backpack and various items. 

The door to your treehouse is made of wood, painted pastel yellow with tiny butterfly stickers adorning it in random places. He hears you, talking to yourself the way you would talk if you had company. Maybe it’s to an imaginary friend. Or maybe, you just like to talk to yourself. Regardless, he knocks, and your gibberish ceases. Eventually, he hears your feet padding closer and closer.  The door creaked open, revealing your curious grey eyes. Your red hair framed your small, heart shaped face, and the cream knit sweater that you wore looked almost as warm as you were.

“Hi,” Steve said. “I’m Steve. I live in that house over there.”

He pointed to the big house that loomed just across the street from you, and you briefly peeked out to look at it before looking back at him. Your full pink lips pressed into a shy smile.

“I’m Nicole,” you told him. “I’m six.”

“Me, too,” Steve tells you, proudly and with a dashing smile. But then he furrows his brow. “Why are you having a tea party by yourself?”

You look back into your little safe haven, following his gaze that stares at the eclectic assortment of tea cups and teapots set for multiple people when it was just you. 

“Oh, well I just like to be ready,” you tell him. “In case I make any friends.” 

Suddenly, you beam at him. Your usually shy demeanor dissolves as the gleam in your eye shines through. 

“Do you wanna be my friend?” you ask Steve, who raises his eyebrows in response.

“Umm, yeah,” he finally responds, nodding his head. He stuffs one hand into the pockets of his little Levi jeans, fastened with a belt and all, already a charmer with his polo sweater. His other hand goes to push back some of his floppy chestnut hair. “Yeah, let’s be friends.”

You smile brightly.  “Okay.”

And so you are, just like that.  Friends.  As you pour Steve a cup of chocolate milk, which you both confidently call hot tea without remark, you quietly hum to yourself.

Steve watches you, thinking you’re really pretty.  Whenever you go to pass him a teacup, he takes it and quickly looks around, pretending he wasn’t just staring at you.  He was in awe, really.  Fairy lights were strewn about, with potted flowers in the windowsills.  There was a table with lots of crayons, markers and gel pens, unfinished drawings scattered underneath them.  A few completed drawings were hung up on the walls.  

“Doesn’t it get scary up here all by yourself?” he asks you, genuinely curious.

As you set the little teapot back down, you shrugged your shoulders and shook your head. “Mm-mm,” you tell him. “I’m safe up here.”

You raise your teacup to your little pout to sip.  You seemed so content all by yourself, as if the word ‘lonely’ was completely foreign to you.

Steve is six years old when he sees the reflection of his better self in you.

_______

Steve is 7 years old when he calls you his best friend.

You’re both playing at recess, roped into a game of duck-duck-goose. A little girl named Carol is sitting next to you, and Steve watches her roll her eyes and huff throughout most of the game. You’ve been smiling and laughing this whole time, except when she gets mad that you don’t pick her when you’re circling the group of kids and selecting someone to chase you.

“Nicoooole,” she whines. 

You look at her as if you’re terribly afraid of what you could have done wrong. Carol crosses her arms, pouting.

“You’re supposed to pick me,” she complains.

“Oh,” you said, eyes wide.  “I-I didn’t know you wanted me to.”

You shuffled your feet, your loafers twisting in the grass.  Your ponytail blew in the breeze, along with the little flyaway baby hairs, and you looked a little embarrassed – almost ashamed – as the kid you had picked goes to sit in the assigned mush pot, since she couldn’t catch you.

“Well I do,” Carol said, matter of fact. 

Steve grimaces. He hated seeing you so uncomfortable, and he really hated the way this girl was talking to you.

“Those aren’t the rules,” Steve argued, defending you. 

You looked at Steve, a little relief becoming evident in your timid eyes.

“It’s not not in the rules,” Carol snarks back. Alright, now Steve is just plain bothered. This girl is annoying. And shamelessly entitled. 

Carol looks back at you, glaring. “Pick me next time.”

You slowly sit back down next to her, sinking into the grass with a frown. You look so timid, sad even. Steve wanted to drag you across the circle to sit next to him, but he didn’t because you were suddenly standing again, stuttering a little “Oh,” realizing it was still your turn. 

You cautiously made your way around the kids, placing your hand on top of everyone’s heads while saying “duck.”  You started to sweetly grin as you approached Steve, who grinned back. You plopped your hand on top of his head, definitely messing up his hair, but he didn’t mind. It was you, and that was okay. Anyone else, no. 

You fearfully dubbed Carol duck as you passed her, and her jaw clenched. She kept her arms tightly folded, watching you like a hawk. Steve narrowed his eyes at the snarky girl, already hating her. You patted his head again, “duck,” and Steve watched you curiously. Surely, you weren’t gonna pick her. Then again, he was afraid of what would happen if you didn’t. 

But sure enough, you did pick Carol. 

Goose. 

Carol smirked so fast before bolting upright to chase you around the playground. 

Steve was wildly chanting your name, along with the others.

“Go, Nicole!” he shouted, rooting you on. The others echoed his cheers. Your red hair flipped in the wind, ponytail bouncing behind you as you dashed back towards him in your school dress and loafers. 

Carol looked so convinced that she was gonna take you down, but you were faster. She chased you with a devilish smile, which began to quickly dissolve once she saw you getting closer to homebase.

Suddenly, you plopped down beside Steve, out of breath. He and the others hurrayed, and you smiled as you panted.

But Carol scoffed, finally making it over to you all in the circle. She buckled over her knees, trying to catch her breath.

“Ha-ha, Carol,” some boy sneered jokingly. 

“Yeah Carol, mush pot time,” Steve chimed in, a little too happily.

She scoffed again, louder this time. “No way, that’s not fair.”

Steve twitched incredulously. “W’you mean it’s not fair? She beat you.”

Carol’s jaw clenched again, and she stared daggers in your direction as she put her hands on her hips with a sour attitude. Steve cringed at the sight of just how nasty she looked, hating that it was being directed towards you. You shrunk back in your seated position on the grass, looking afraid. As Carol stalked over to sit in the middle of everyone, she kept staring at you with a look that could kill. You looked to the ground, and Steve kept his place next to you with a newfound wave of protection washing over him.

“Fine, well,” Carol sneered.  “I’m not your friend anymore.”

Carol’s words were nothing but laughable. To any mature adult — hell, any human not in kindergarten — her remark would have meant nothing. But to you? A seven year old with a heart of gold, and the desire to just make everyone feel included? Her words were detrimental. They meant you were a horrible person. You were to blame.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t —“ you stumble, voice shaking. “I didn’t mean to, Carol, I-I…”

Carol whipped her head around to not face you. Your eyes were really sad now, and Steve’s heart sank.  You brought your knees to your chest, and your grey eyes went a little glassy.

“I can switch w-with you,” you kept trying. “I’ll sit—”

“Shut up,” she barked. “I said you’re not my friend.”

“Yeah, well she’s my best friend.”

Steve’s words landed hard. 

Carol whipped her head around again, now facing him. Everyone in the circle stared at the perfect-haired boy, including you. Sweet, innocent you. Your grey eyes peered over at him nervously. But there was a glint of hope in them, too, and if you weren’t so shaken up and close to crying you would have smiled. 

Steve shot one last disgusted look in Carol’s direction, then rose to his feet.  He reached out a hand, taking one of yours from your knees.

“C’mon,” he told you.  “Let’s go play somewhere else.”

You blinked, but didn’t hesitate to follow his lead.  You looked at him, giving him a small smile before looking downwards again.  Steve wrapped his fingers around your hand so tightly, and your little heart fluttered.  He was so warm, and you felt so safe.

Carol huffed, appalled.  “Since when are you best friends with ugly redheads, Harrington?!”

Your heart sank even lower as you saw Steve’s eyes go fierce, his jaw clenched.  He whipped around to look at Carol.

“The only ugly redhead here is you,” he shot back at her, and her jaw dropped.  All the kids reacted, some laughing and some making amused remarks.  But Steve didn’t pay them any mind as he stalked off with you, hand in hand.

You kept up with him as best you could with your little legs, feeling his grip on your hand tighten.  He looked so mad, and you gulped.

“Steve?” you asked, voice quiet.

“Don’t listen to them,” he mumbled, shaking his head.  He was staring straight ahead, mind racing.  You could tell he was really upset, and it made you feel bad.  “Or her.  She’s a bitch.”

You gasped, eyes wide.  “Steve!”

“What?  She is.”

You were shocked to hear him curse.  A few moments passed as you kept walking beside him, completely taken aback.  But then, you felt a grin tucking your lips upwards.  You stifled a giggle, and Steve turned to look at you in surprise.  You glanced up at him shyly, really giggling now.  His hard expression turned soft, a smile of his own creeping on his lips.  Eventually, he laughed too.

The two of you made it over to the swingset, and Steve let go of your hand.  You already missed his touch, the warmth of it.  He walked to stand in front of the tire swing, nodding his head at you to join.  You walked in front of the tire, reaching up to grip the chains from which it hung.  Steve crossed over to stand behind you.

“Here,” he said, placing his hands on your small hips.  You felt yourself flush, heart fluttering again.  A whole flock of butterflies swarmed your stomach.  Steve was happy you couldn’t see his face, because he felt himself flush too.  He wasn’t sure why a surge of electricity shot through him as he lifted you up into the tire swing, but as you swung your legs into its open middle he could smell your lavender shampoo.  It made him melt, and his hands lingered just a little longer than needed on the hips of your jeans.  You were safely seated now – had been for a moment.  Maybe two or three moments.  

Steve cleared his throat, rounding the wheel to climb onto it and sit across from you.  He tossed his feet into the hole, hands wrapped around the chains.  You looked at him with that signature warm, slightly shy smile of yours, and he returned it.  His smile was definitely more confident, though.  Charming, even for a first grader.

Your feet dangled in the air, so Steve used his to touch the ground and help you both begin to swing.  For a little while, you both just listened to the breeze.  The leaves were beginning to turn brown, a sign that autumn was approaching.  Kids laughed in the distance, buzzing with energy.  You figured you both only had a little time left, before you would have to return to classes.  But spending the last bit of playtime alone together was more fun than with the bratty kids you’d been spending time with earlier.

“Am I ugly?”

Steve had been watching a butterfly swarming nearby when you spoke.  He almost hadn’t heard you, with the way you spoke so quietly.  You sounded so small, fragile.  You were staring at the ground, your loafers criss-crossed as the two of you swayed on the swing, looking so vulnerable.  It made his heart split in two, the fire inside him burning again.  

“No,” he said, a little too harshly.  Your eyes shot up at him, a little surprised at his tone.  But he continued with no filter, cause what 7-year-old boy has one of those?  “Carol’s a liar.  You’re not ugly.  At all.  You’re beautiful.  Way more than her.”

Your eyes shone, and Steve watched your cheeks go rosy pink.  A small but real smile found its way onto your little lips, and you looked at him so sweetly before you glanced back down at the ground.  You kicked at the air, thinking to yourself.  While you weren’t looking, Steve memorized each eyelash concealing your grey eyes and the curve of your eyebrows.  He noticed that you only had a small sprinkle of freckles on your nose, but nowhere else on your porcelain skin.  He felt his heart skip a beat, losing himself in you.  God, you were perfect.  How could anyone ever call you ugly?  

“Wanna come over for dinner?” Steve asked.

You looked up at him, snapped out of your own thoughts.  “Yeah.  I’ll have to ask my mom and dad if that’s okay.”

“I think my mom is ordering pizza,” Steve continued, mouth watering.  “Do you like pizza?”

“Yeah, but I like mushroom pizza.”

Steve scrunched his nose.  “Eww, why?”

You giggled, shrugging.  “They’re really good!”

“Bleck.”

“You should try them,” you insisted.  

Steve would normally say something along the lines of hell no, but to you?  That was impossible.  He pursed his lips, nose still scrunched and shivering at the thought of eating fungus on pizza.  But he relented, sighing.

“Alright, I guess,” he said, kicking to swing you both again.  “But if I don’t like it, you have to help me with the dishes.”

You smirked.  “Deal.”

You both swayed, listening to the trees rustle.  Steve watched the teacher approaching everyone from her perch, knowing she was about to whistle for everyone to make their way back for school.

“Hey Steve?”

He turned back to look at you.  ‘Hmm?”

You paused, contemplating your words.  But then you gave him the kindest smile in the world, and it rendered Steve speechless as you spoke with more certainty than you had all day.

“You’re my best friend, too.”

__________

As the next few years went by, you and Steve continued to become a permanent part of them for each other.  

Your parents had easily become friends with his parents, making it a regular thing to have each other over for holiday parties and gatherings, or even just casual dinners.  Both your parents and his were too wealthy for their own good, too caught up in their own worlds to really pay either of you any mind.  Sure, they knew that the two of you were friends.  Close even.  But they didn’t really know much beyond that.  Steve’s parents were just glad to know that their kid had something to do other than bother them every day after school and on weekends, and your parents were so used to you playing by yourself that they didn’t really notice much difference.  Your families both lived in a swanky neighborhood, so becoming acquainted with one another hadn’t been something that required much consideration on their part.  They ran in the same circles.  Timeshare mutuals, and plastic veneer smiles who shared travel itineraries for whatever bougie seminar was happening that month, or the next.

Until you came along, Steve had been a lonely kid destined for a life of abandonment.  Once Chet Harrington had been given a son by Paula, he stopped the bloodline there.  “Good,” he’d remarked.  “Someone to carry on the family name.”  As far as he was concerned, that’s all his kid’s purpose served.  Take over the family business, get a trophy wife and repeat the cycle.  Siblings?  Why bother?  One kid was enough to handle.  They cost money and time, and the Harringtons didn’t just hand those out like charity.  If it weren’t so heavily frowned upon, or a threat to their reputation, they wouldn’t have even bothered with hiring a babysitter.  It was mainly Paula Harrington who insisted on it.  After all, she did love her son.  She just wasn’t a nurturing mother, giving her care to her pearls and pristine walk-in closet maintenance far more than her little boy, so her love was never felt by her son.  As far as Chet was concerned, once Steve turned 10 years old, a babysitter was no longer a needed expense.  Because that’s all it was to him: an expense.  So come the double digits, and Steve would just be a kid left to fend for himself, all alone in his great big house with no parents.

But so were you.  You, Nicole St. James, were just as doomed as he was.  Your parents were more aloof than anything.  They weren’t quite as cold as the Harrington’s.  But they weren’t all that warm either.  Ken had impregnated his wife, Alison, on a spontaneous trip overseas.  You’d been the result of a heavy night of gin, blue curacao and dirty talk.  Filthy sex and silky sheets in a Five Seasons were the blissful combination the night that you were conceived.  It had been a surprise for both of them, when that little strip read positive with a pink stripe.  They’d made a fuss of it, planning a frivolous baby shower with tons of guests and a plethora of gifts for their baby girl on the way.  They had found out the gender as soon as they could, not wanting any more surprises.  Your arrival had been a very anticipated event, so when you had been actually brought into the world the excitement fizzled away.  It seemed more exciting to celebrate having you, rather than actually having you.  Granted, your parents loved you.  You were spoiled with toys, new clothes every week, and social outings.  Not that you ever asked for any of those things.  The only thing you ever sought out from them were hugs, which they half-heartedly returned with barely a fraction of the love that radiated through your tiny arms.  

You had your mother’s hair, though hers was more auburn while yours was pure fire.  And you had your father’s grey eyes.  But what you had that they didn’t, was your spirit.  They were boisterous, loud and shallow.  You were quiet, shy and soft.  You radiated only genuine kindness, oftentimes just observing your surroundings and being in your own little world.  Your parents were party animals, constantly busying themselves with events and planning vacations.  It’s why they busied you with the same types of things by default, assuming you to be just like them.  Constantly wanting company, people to distract you and noise to drown out the silence.  But you weren’t like them.  You loved the silence, the chirping of the birds and the whoosh of the breeze.  You loved books instead of toys, and gardening tools instead of dolls.  Not that they paid attention to that, though.  Instead, they just bought you whatever the flashiest new item was.  Or, if you just so happened to take a liking to something, the St. James’ bought it to appease you quickly and not bat an eye.  Screw sentimentality, if it made you happy then by all means you could have it.

The only reason they had a treehouse built for you, was because Ken St. James had discovered his daughter’s makeshift fort outside.  It consisted of amateruly constructed cardboard boxes, with random blankets propped up on sticks.  He and Alison had just gotten home from a business trip, and your aunt had shrugged her shoulders when they asked how her stay had been.  She told them you had spent the whole time outside, playing in your disastrously built utopia.  Your parents didn’t give much thought to it, hiring a few carpenters to come and build you a proper treehouse for your sixth birthday.  You had beamed, telling them thank you a thousand and one times.  They’d thought it was cute, at first.  Until one night, as they got ready for a gala, you had gone to hug your mother as she coated her lips with a red rouge.  She’d yelped, surprised at your sudden touch.   

“I love you, mommy,” you whispered to her.  

“Nicole, darling, what are you–” she stammered, one hand holding her lipstick and the other swatting at you.

“For my treehouse,” you continued.  “I love it.”

“Oh, psh, honey,” she scoffed wryly, slowly peeling your little arms off of her shoulders.  “Enough now, you’ve thanked us too many times to count.  It’s a little exhausting.”

She had chuckled humorlessly, resuming her pampering.  You had watched her reflection, and if she’d cared to look at yours instead of her own she would have seen the look of longing and saddened wonder that filled your eyes.  She would have seen the way your full lips parted, no more words being spoken.  And she would have seen you quietly pad your way back out her bedroom door, where you made your way back to your room.  

Instead of finding love through your parents, you found it in your treehouse.  You found it in the swaying of the trees, and the butterflies that swarmed your front yard.  You found it in yellow crayons, and glitter gel pens, and the weeds you insisted were flowers as you pulled them and placed them into little pots.  You found love in the changing of seasons, and the twinkle lights that glowed at night in your safe haven.  You found love within yourself, and you found love in Steve Harrington.

The bike rides down the neighborhood streets, and down to the convenient store to buy snacks with your little weekly allowances.  The swapping of ice cream cones on hot summer days — when Steve noticed the way you eyed his chocolate waffle cone, as he secretly wanted your strawberry sugar cone instead.  The afternoons into nights spent in your treehouse together, playing make believe and coloring.  The fairy wands and pirate swords, and the battle of neverland that you fought side by side in your tulle dress while Steve wore a green polo and birthday hat with a red feather crudely taped to the side of it.  The field trips and summer camps with your classmates, always sitting beside each other on the bus and whenever you all had to eat in between activities.  Lord knows, if you two were sat apart, one of you would complain until it was made right.  The innocent secrets you told each other, and the way you both laughed at the silliest of things until your sides split.  The countless hours that you spent at his house, no parents or nanny in sight, playing hide and seek.  One time, it took him so long to find you that he panicked.  He was pretty sure you had actually disappeared for good, and his breathing quickened.  It took him calling out your name several times, until eventually it sounded like he was blubbering.  You had made your way out of his closet, where you’d proudly buried yourself underneath all of his clothes.  Steve saw you crawling out with a worried look on your little face, saying his name in such an assuring tone.  He had run over to you and hugged you tight, sniffling.  But when he pulled back, he’d already roughly rubbed his eyes so that no tears spilled.  The two of you resumed playing like nothing had happened.  

Most days were spent in your treehouse, except when a thunderstorm was coming.  That’s when the two of you would throw a bunch of blankets and pillows together in his or your room, making a fort.  A shelter, if you will.  The thunder rolled as the lightning streaked across the sky.  One night, you had both curled up with a big bowl of popcorn, boxes of cereal, pop tarts, sodas and candy, no trace of actual substance in sight.  You had flashlights and cards, playing Go Fish and War.  At some point, Steve had asked if you believed in ghosts.  You shuddered, nodding your head yes.  His eyes had gone wide, clutching the blanket tighter around his shoulders.  You pulled the pillow in your arms closer to your chest, your grey eyes just as wide as his.

“Do you think…” Steve had started, his voice soft.  He gulped, a thought crossing his mind.  “D’you think we’ll ever have to fight monsters?  You know, like aliens or something?”

You gulped, too.  “I dunno,” you started, voice soft like his.  “I think that monsters in books and movies are really scary.  I don’t wanna fight them in real life.”

Steve nodded, thinking.  “Well, if we ever do… I’ll protect you.  Promise.”

You hugged your pillow tighter, your worried eyes shining and a shy smile meeting your lips.  “You will?”

“Yeah,” Steve assured you, with absolute certainty.  Because he meant it with all of his heart.  No monster would ever hurt you.  No ghost would haunt you.  And nothing would ever take you away.  “I always will.”

CRACK.  That’s when lightning struck the electricity box, and all the power in Steve’s house went out.  You screamed, and Steve gasped.  He grabbed one of the flashlights, shuffling his way over to you.  He wrapped the blanket around both of you, as the two of you huddled closer together underneath the pillow fort you both built together.

“S’okay, I’m right here,” he soothed you, feeling you shiver against him.  Your little arms were wound around his torso, your grip fierce.  He clung to him with so much trust, melting into him, even though you were scared.  He melted right back into you, holding you close.  “I got you.”

The winds howled outside, thunder still rolling and lightning flashing around you both in the quiet, still room outside of the walls of blankets enveloping you both.  

“Do you think there’s a monster out there?” you asked him, your frightened voice the cutest whisper in the world.

“Nah,” Steve said, but even he wasn’t so sure.  He couldn’t be scared, though.  He had to make you feel safe.  “But if there is, it won’t get you.  I won’t let it.”  He rested his chin on top of your head.  “Not ever.”

Even at nine years old, Steve knew he would never break a promise that he made you.  You did, too.

And right now, as you turned ten years old, you were surrounded by a bunch of faces.  Most of them, you didn’t really know.  Some were kids from school, and others were their parents.  Lots of random adults, buzzed with champagne and spirits.  But as you sat in a chair behind your pink birthday cake, all aglow with ten gold candles, there was one face you recognized and loved.  Steve’s.

He grinned at you, his smile growing more charming each day.  His hair was still iconic, always styled just right.  He wore a preppy polo with a collar, and khaki slacks with nice shoes.  His brown doe eyes shone in the candlelight – and even though the others spoke loudly over each other, he spoke so that only you could hear him.

“Make a wish, Nic,” he said, seated right next to you.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABY GIRL!” your mom squealed, the inebriation evident in her voice.

“Wait, honey, wait,” your father chuckled, gripping his whisky.  “We gotta sing first.”

“Damn,” Mr. Harrington remarked, also laughing.  “These women just don’t have any patience, do they?”

The two men snickered, and Mrs. Harrington playfully scoffed and swatted at them before wrapping an arm around your mother.  She, too, was a bit tipsy.  

“Alright,” she purred, a smirk on her lips as she raised her glass.  “All together now.”

And so the song began.  Happy Birthday rang all throughout the house, echoing off the dining room walls of your childhood home.  Kids sang with enthusiasm, while adults sang in a million different pitches.  Some voices were happy, others were bored, and a few were drunk.  But the only voice you listened to was your best friend’s, who sat by your side with one arm resting on the table and the other perched on the back of your chair.  You beamed at him, and he beamed at you.

Steve swore in that very moment, that you were perfect.  The way your little baby hairs still escaped your hair that was pulled into a little half-up do.  You were wearing the simplest, most feminine pastel yellow dress.  The sleeves had tiny ruffles on it, your shoulders peeking out and arms bare.  Your face was clean of any makeup, aside from the white face painted butterfly wings around your grey eyes.  It was so whimsical, making you look even more like a princess than you already were.  Steve watched you look around the room, enchanted by your enchantment.  And as your gaze circled back to meet his own, he smiled bigger.  Your smile grew, too, and the crowd of people in the room ceased to exist.  You’d both forgotten them, until they started to cheer wildly as your birthday song ended.

“Nicky!” your mother squealed.  

God, you hated when she called you that.  You broke your gaze from Steve, looking at her.

“Come on, baby, make a wish!”

You looked back down at your candles, scrunching your eyes shut and thinking.  Steve’s eyes never left you, entranced with the way you looked in the orange glow of the birthday candles.  Selfishly, he made a wish too.  It wasn't his birthday, but it didn’t have to be.  Steve wished for all your wishes and dreams to come true.  He wished for this to be the best year yet, for you and for him.  He wished for you to never move away, to always be his best friend across the road.  He wished for you to never outgrow him, or want to be better friends with somebody else.  He wished it would always be like this, that no matter what changes came he would always have you.  He wished that he knew what you were wishing for, and he wished for you to be wishing for him.

Little did he know, he was your only wish.  It was already true, and as you blew out the candles, you wished for it to always be true.

________________

Steve was twelve when you saw him cry for the first time.

His parents had gotten his report card, appalled at the C and D despite all other A’s.  Paula Harrington was disappointed and embarrassed, but Chet Harrington?  Well, he was furious.  

“I didn’t raise someone stupid,” he spat at Steve, who leaned against the kitchen counter with his head down, shoulders slumped and arms crossed.  They had been arguing over this for at least thirty minutes.

Steve swallowed.  “I’m not stupid, dad,” he murmered, voice defeated.

“Sorry, what was that?” his father egged him on, voice bitter.  There was zero trace of kindness or understanding, and Steve’s mother could only watch them from the dining table with a pathetic pout.

Chet stepped closer to his son, sneering.  “Speak up, son.  Couldn’t hear you.”

“...said I’m not stupid,” Steve tried again, hating the way his voice still shook despite talking a little louder.

“Stop being a little bitch and look at me,” his dad spat, the air escaping his lips and onto Steve’s face.

“Chet, please –” his mother tried, pathetically. 

Steve felt the hurt inside of him bubbling into anger, unable to control himself.  

“I said I’m not stupid!”  He shouted back, having taken enough of his father’s bullying for the past thirty minutes.  The past month.  Several months.  Years.

But he was only rewarded with a slap to the face, so sharp it felt like a knife.  If it weren’t for the ringing in his ears, he would have heard his mother gasp.  The impact had made him turn a full 180 degrees, and he was stunned into silence as tears sprang to his eyes from the harsh blow.  Slowly, he turned back towards them.  He first made eye contact with his mother, whose hands were clasped over her mouth.  Eventually, he made eye contact with his father, who seethed and showed no sign of remorse.

“Your report card says otherwise,” he slithered.  He slowly backed up towards the kitchen table, taking his seat again.  He took a sip of his brandy, clicking his tongue at the taste.  “Raise your voice at me again, and you’ll see stars next time.”

Steve could hear his own breathing, could feel the anguish that spread throughout his mind, body and soul.  His heart ached, and he longed for comfort.  But the two people who sat in front of him wouldn’t offer him that.  Nobody would.

Except you.

So he bolted his stairs, seeking privacy so that the unshed tears threatening to spill over wouldn’t show his weakness any further.  He held them at bay, biting his lip so hard he was pretty sure it would bleed soon.  He ran into his room, throwing open his drawers as he breathed hard.  Adrenaline coursed through his veins, his only thoughts consisting of getting a change of clothes and heading over to you.  He threw a backpack over his shoulder, locking his bedroom door and sneaking out his window.

He knew the route all too well by now, having done it since he was six.  He crawled down the side of the house, walking towards the house next to his and the one after that.  Then, he made his way across the street, where he walked behind one house, then two, and then made it to yours.  This way, his parents wouldn’t see him heading to your house out their window.  

Once he was there, he climbed up the side of your home where your window was dimly lit by the glow of your bedside lamp.  Good, he thought.  You were home.  His heavy heart swelled with relief, and he mounted the side of the house and up onto the roof the way he always did when sneaking into your room at night.

Your window was cracked open, always ready for him.  The curtains were drawn, and he saw you sitting on your bed, reading a book.  Your brows were closely knitted together, your eyes intensely focused on whatever you were reading.  One leg was crossed over the other, glasses perched on your nose and hair tucked back into a messy topknot.  

Steve swallowed back the large lump in his throat and tapped the windowpane, just enough for you to hear him.  Your head snapped up, pulled out of your bookworm trance.  Grey eyes met brown, and you went to smile until you saw the distress in his features.  You set your book down and removed your glasses, padding over to him, quietly but quickly.  A large t-shirt hung to your thighs, landing just above your knees and accentuating your slim legs.  You pulled the window all the way open, looking at him with the most concerned expression.

“Steve?” you asked, voice gentle.

The dam broke.  Steve couldn’t hold it in any longer, any plans of trying to do so completely demolished as a choked sob left his lips.  His shoulders heaved forward, and you felt your heart break at the sight.  This was new.  This was very new.  You’d never seen him like this.

Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him tightly.  He gripped you back like a lifeline, crying into your shoulder.  You stayed there for a moment, before pulling back to bring him inside.  He clung to you, not wanting to let go, but when he realized that he was still in the window frame he allowed you to move away from him and followed you inside to stand behind you.  You quickly closed the window, turning to face him again.  

He was a good several inches taller than you, so you looked up at him.  Your expression was so soft, so full of empathy it only made him break down more.  You wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek to his chest.  He buried his face into your shoulder again, weeping until the sleeve of your shirt was soaked through.  He shook in your embrace, the sound of his cries the saddest sound you had ever heard.  You stroked the nape of his neck, fingers playing with his hair.  His arms around you were so tightly wound, you thought he might never let go.  And you didn’t want him to, so neither of you made a move to do so.  You just stood there, holding one another, letting Steve cry until he couldn’t any more.

After a while, you slowly pulled back to look up at him.  Steve’s brown eyes were bloodshot, his stylish hair ruffled and messy – yet somehow, still perfect.  Even when he was sad, he was still so pretty.  

He rubbed at his snot sodden nose with his elbow, fruitlessly trying to wipe it away.  He sniffed roughly, not used to being the one who needed comforting.  But as you reached up to thumb away a few of his tears, he didn’t pull away.  Anyone else, he wouldn’t have let seen him like this, let alone touch him.  But you were the exception to every rule, and he wouldn’t dare pull away from you.  Not when you were so understanding, not casting any judgment towards him.  Any walls he had built around himself in front of others, he let come down in front of you.  Because when he was with you, he didn’t have to be strong, or brave, or cool.  He could just be Steve, a boy with big hair and an even bigger heart.

You smiled at him gently, waiting for him to speak.  He sighed.

“My dad said I was stupid,” he started, voice shaky.  “He said I – he said…”

Your small smile faded, your eyes boring into his.  He looked shown, shuddering a breath.  You took his hands in yours, guiding him to the bed.  You both sat down, your hands still intertwined.  You sat facing him, your legs crossed in Indian-style.  He mirrored you, matching your position and staring down at your dainty fingers in his.  You wore a few rings, minimal sterling silver bands.  Steve always loved how they made your piano fingers look even longer, delicate.  He twiddled in thumbs around yours, absentmindedly tracing shapes as he spoke.

“They saw my report card,” he continued, sniffling.  “I got a C in math.  And a D, i-in science.”

You furrowed your brows, still listening.  You wanted to say so much already, but you will yourself to stay quiet and let him finish.  He needed to let it out.

“It didn’t matter about the other grades.  Dad, h-he just cared about the bad ones.  Like no matter what, I’m j-just a failure.”

You shook your head, not having any of it.  “Steve,” you started, voice firm but kind.  “You’re not stupid.  And you’re not a failure.  You’re smart, and you study just as hard as anyone else does.”

He sniffled again, eyes still downcast.  “Doesn’t matter,” he mumbled.  “S’not enough.”

“You’re enough.”

That made him look up at you, his sad glassy eyes meeting your fierce ones.  The love that poured from your grey irises shot straight into his brown ones, and he knew you were being as honest as they come.

“He hit me, Nic,” he murmured, tasting bile as he admitted it. 

You felt a wave of emotions hit you all at once.  Anger.  Heartbreak.  Anguish.  Rage.  Pain.  And love.  So, so much love for this beautiful boy, who you got to call your best friend.  The thought of his dad hitting him – anyone hitting him – made you see red.  He didn’t deserve this.  Any of this.  And as you noted a slightly red mark on his cheek, you felt your soul split open.  Tears of your own sprang to your eyes, and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching a hand up to cup his cheek.

“Steve, I’m so sorry,” you whispered.  

His face crumpled, and you pulled him in close as he started to cry again.  You silently cried too, grateful that he couldn’t see you.  He kept one hand in yours still, resting on your laps.  The other wound around your waist, the hand you had placed on his cheek now draped around his neck.  You lightly swayed, allowing the silence and Steve’s breathy cries to wash over you both.  

Eventually, Steve’s tense shoulders sagged and his cries subdued.  He relaxed into you, and you could tell that sleep was finding him.

“Hey,” you murmured into his neck.  “Let’s get some sleep.”

Steve slowly pulled back, watching you pull the covers down.  Normally, it would be weird.  A boy, watching his female friend offer to sleep in the same bed without their parents knowing.  But you’d both fallen asleep together so many times over the years.  In your treehouse, on his bedroom floor, on the couch while watching a movie.  Even in the same bed, when studying or doing homework. Now was no different, as far as you both were concerned.

So as you nestled yourself underneath the covers, gesturing for him to follow, Steve didn’t hesitate to crawl in next to you.  He pulled the covers over the two of you as you turned out your light, only the moonlight illuminating your face in the dark room.  You both laid on your sides, facing each other.  You placed a hand on the mattress, in the small space between you both, palm up. He placed his hand on top of yours, wrapping his fingers around yours.  He sighed deeply, eyes fluttering shut.

“You can stay here anytime you want,” you whispered beside him, your eyelids drooping but still watching him.  

Steve squeezed your hand tightly.  He felt an overwhelming sense of relief, his heart swelling with love for you.  He peeled his eyes back open, taking in your beautiful face.  If there was an angel watching over him, it had to be you.  God couldn’t have possibly given him a better one, because you were it.

“I don’t wanna go back,” he whispered back, timid.  “Unless you’re there.”

You sighed, nuzzling into your pillow with a little nod.  “Okay, then you won’t.”

Both your voices were tired, but the words you shared with one another held so much truth and conviction. Because you meant what you had said. Steve never had to spend a single night alone in his great big house, whether or not his parents were there.  You stayed there, or he’d stay with you.  It became an unspoken routine, refuge.

No matter what pain life threw his way, or yours, you both knew that so long as you had each other, it would be okay.

____________

But one morning, several months later, Steve’s mom found you in his bed.  

The two of you were sound asleep, her son starfished across the mattress and you curled up into a little ball.  At first, Mrs. Harrington just froze.  How long had this been happening?  That’s the question that sprang her into action.  Her motherly instincts decided to actually make an appearance, storming over to the bed to jostle you awake.  

“Nicole St. James, what in blazes are you doing here?!”

Your eyes shot open, finding Mrs. Harrington’s frantic eyes.  She had a firm grip on your arm, and you shrunk deeper into the mattress.  

“Steven,” she said through gritted teeth.  “Wake up.”

Steve stirred, not really waking up.  Such a boy.  A tornado can’t wake boys when they’re not even thirteen yet.

You, on the other hand, were wide awake.  Groggy, but alert.  You felt your cheeks flush crimson, knowing this looked bad.  Sure, at twelve years old you’re not fully aware of just how bad this actually looked.  But a boy and a girl, sharing a bed, behind their parents’ backs?  That had trouble written all over it.  As far as any adult was concerned, that screamed bad news.  And nine times out of ten, it was often a result of youthful scandal.  

But for you and Steve?  It was simply comfort.  Safety.  Codependency.

That’s not how his mother saw it, though.

“Steven!”

He bolted awake, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes.  When he looked over to find you staring at him, your grey eyes terrified and lean arm in his mother’s manicured grip, he began to come to.  The reality set in, and Steve felt his chest clench.  You both had been caught.

His mother’s eyes held a fire that he had never seen before.  Even in all her beauty – loosely curled blonde hair, wispy bangs and silky white blouse to match her high waist trousers – she looked intimidating.  Steve realized at that moment, he had never truly felt intimidated by his mother until right now.  She looked absolutely furious, appalled even.  Her lips were pursed together into a tight, thin line, and by the looks of her clenched jaw he could tell she had gritted her teeth.

Steve swallowed, feeling the panic seep in.  “Wait, mom –”

“Not a word,” she cut him off.  “I didn’t raise you like this.”

You didn’t raise him at all, you thought to yourself.  If it weren’t for the fear you held, you would have had to really fight to stay quiet.  But as Mrs. Harrington kept going, you couldn’t have found your own voice if you tried.

“Bringing girls up to your room to sleep with them?  What filthy movies have you been watching?  Did you… Oh my god, did you find one of your father’s?!”

Steve’s eyes went wide with horror.  “What?!  No!  Mom, please –”

“I don’t know what vile things you’ve had put in your head, Steven.  By your friends, your father, porn or whatever the hell you kids are doing these days.  But this.  Ends.  Now.”

Your terror-stricken eyes expression became all the more terrified, and as Steve’s mother wrenched you off the bed you let out the most heartbreaking little yelp.  Steve felt his heart jump into his throat.

“MOM, PLEASE, DON’T –”

“And you,” she turned to face you, dragging you beside her out of his bedroom.  “You’re a young lady.  You should know better.”

You felt absolutely sick to your stomach.  Hearing Steve’s mom accuse you of being capable of doing something so grimey – of being a slut – made you feel so small.  And Steve’s panicked shouts weren’t helping.

“But I–I,” you stuttered, your voice so shaky and low it was almost inaudible.  How could she think you and Steve would do such a thing together?  It wasn’t like that.  He was your best friend.  Your safe haven.  Your favorite person in existence.

Mrs. Harrington slammed Steve’s bedroom door shut, trapping his shouts.  She was dragging you down the stairs as you heard him fling the door back open and barrel after you.  She whipped around, waving a finger up at him.

“You stay right there,” she ordered him, voice fierce and booming.  Then, as she kept going, she told you, “I’m taking you straight home to talk to your parents.  This friendship is over.”

The way that Steve wailed ‘no,’ had to have been the most excruciatingly painful sound you had ever heard.  Tears sprang to your own eyes, and you didn’t even try to conceal the whimpers that fell from your lips.  Mrs. Harrington couldn’t have cared less, ripping her car keys off the wall next to the front door.

“Mom, wait, just wait!” Steve’s voice was strained, but desperate.  

You tried to look back at him, only catching glimpses as you were being hauled away by his mother.  You could see the petrified anguish etching Steve’s features, his tired eyes practically popping out of their sockets.  His hair in complete disarray, his sweatpants hung low and his t-shirt all twisted.  He was the most beautiful mess, and you were being taken away from him.

“Not another step, Steven Harrington!” his mother barked, voice shrill.  

Steve came to an abrupt halt on the sidewalk, and even though he was a good distance away now you could see his shoulders shaking and bottom lip trembling.  Your heart thudded in your chest, and you felt like throwing up.  

Paula Harrington was now standing next to her car, opening the passenger side door.  No way in hell was she going to march you over to your house, directly across the street, just so that all of your neighbors could watch and stare from inside their respective homes.  She ushered you in quickly, giving you no choice but to obey.  You crawled into the front seat, pulling your knees to your chest, crying into them.  You felt so ashamed and embarrassed – and for what?  Falling asleep next to your best friend?  Yeah, that’s exactly what you had done that caused this twisted guilt to stir up inside you.  

“I’m taking you straight home,” she told you, cold and fierce.  “And you’re not to step foot over here again.  Do you understand?”

You bit into your knees, clenching your eyes shut in shame.    Mrs. Harrington slammed the door shut, making you jump.  The sound, along with her words, rang in your ears.

This friendship is over.

Your mind was reeling, stomach churning.  You clutched your legs, tugging them impossibly closer to your chest and you rocked in the front seat of Paula’s car.  You looked out the window, watching Steve run towards you.  His mom held out a hand, and you could hear their entire conversation through the thin glass window as you sniffled.

“Mom, nothing happened,” Steven insisted, voice broken.

“You expect me to believe that?!” Mrs. Harrington shot back at him with zero sympathy.  “How many times has this happened, Steven?”

Steve raked his fingers through his chestnut hair, distressed and breathing hard.  “You don’t understand, we just fell asleep –”

“How many?”

“Whenever I can’t sleep!” Steve screamed at her, and his mother visibly pulled back.  “Because y-you –”  Steve gasped for air.  “D-dad, it’s just –”  Steve pressed his lips together, words failing him, so painfully frustrated with himself and this entire situation.  “God, it’s nothing, Mom.  Nic comes over here, and s-sometimes I go there –”

“You sleep at her house?” his mother interrupted, shocked.

“It doesn’t matter!” Steve cries.  His mother is now frozen, taken aback by the hysteria in his voice.  As her son stares back at her, tears threatening to spill over and lips parted, she finally shakes her head.

“You’re almost thirteen years old, Steven,” she says, voice low and bitter.  “You’re too damn old to be having little sleepovers with girls.  You know how this looks.  I know what you were doing.”

“No, you don’t,” Steve shook his head, violently.

“Yes.  I do.”

“NO, YOU DON’T.”  Steve wailed, completely falling apart.  “You don’t know anything.  And I don't care that you don’t, because Nicole knows and that’s all I care about.”

His mother gawked at him, and Nicole could tell that his words stung her a bit.  Still, Paula stood her ground.

“Well whatever you two are doing, it’s over,” she said, coolly.  

Steve’s face crumpled.  “No, please –”

“You’ve got plenty of guys you can hang out with, Steven,” Mrs. Harrington said, tongue sharp.  “They can sleep over whenever you want.  Go call them.”

Steve flung his arms up in the air, running his hands through his hair again as he whirled around in a full 360 before facing her again.

“I don’t care about them –”

“Start caring,” she said simply, turning to walk towards the car again.  She was approaching the driver’s side to open her door.

“Mom, no, NO!”  Steve lurched forward, trying to grab her car keys.  His mother jumped back, reacting just in time.  Her reflexes served her justice as she whipped the keys out of his reach.  

“What is the matter with you?!”  Paula looked absolutely stunned now.  

But Steve wouldn't listen, still trying to wrench the keys from her hands.  They rustled, arms and limbs tangled as they both struggled to overpower the other.  Paula stuttered verbal protests, while Steve whimpered and grunted.  You couldn’t help but feel your heart swell, despite how utterly broken you felt.  Because Steve wasn’t letting you slip away that easily – and while you were too timid to speak up for yourself, he wasn’t.  He was always the brave one.  At school.  Whenever you fell off your bike, or slipped on the playground.  Nobody could pick on you, so long as Steve was there.  Not even his parents could, apparently.  

Eventually, Mrs. Harrington got the upper hand.  No doubt due to the fact that Steve wouldn’t actually be physically aggressive towards his own mother.  She tugged hard, causing Steve to lose his footing and stumble back onto the ground.  He collapsed, landing on his side and barely catching himself.  Paula gasped, watching him make a harsh impact with the concrete sidewalk.

“Steve, baby –” she breathed, noting the bad scrape on his arm.

Steve began to convulse with ugly sobs, curling in on himself.  He gritted his teeth, lips stretched thin.  Mrs. Harrington stared in horror for only a moment before kneeling beside him to assess the damage.  She might not have been a warm person, but she wasn’t a violent one either.  That was all his father.  She didn’t believe in putting a hand on her kid.  She just didn’t do anything to stop it when Mr. Harrington did.

“Give me your arm,” she said, her voice shaking now.

“Please, mom, please,” Steve bawled, pulling away from her and cowering back.  Paula noted the way her son wouldn’t look at her now, and she hated it.  It reminded her of the way he was around his father.  And she was not his father.  She was hardly a mother, but more importantly she was not his father.  She swallowed hard, pride overcoming any deeply buried traces of warmth and love within her.

“Listen to me,” she tried again, voice still shaking.  “Give me your arm.”

But Steve just unabashedly wailed, now feebly sitting up.  Tears streamed down his cheeks, drops of blood forming on his freshly scraped arm.  The guttural cries escaping his lips were so agnonized, Paula couldn’t understand it.  She had never seen him like this.  He just kept murmuring unintelligible things that sounded like don’t, don’t, don’t, and please, no, and pathetically trying to get the keys from her.  His efforts were futile, but he wouldn’t back down.

“Steven,” she said, incredulously.  “Stop.”

“Mom, she’s the only friend I have.”  

Steve’s tortured words landed hard, on both you and Paula.  They hit you like a freight train, piercing your heart.  

Steve cried and cried, finally looking at his mother again as he admitted this treacherously painful confession in a wrecked voice.  Paula couldn’t believe it.  There was no way that Steve didn’t have friends.  She had seen him.  At his games, and social gatherings.  He got along with everybody.  She didn’t have to be at school with him to know he was popular.  All the girls had a crush on him, and all the guys wanted to be around him.  No way were you the only friend he had. No way was he as lonely as he was saying that he was.  He wasn’t, he just wasn’t… Was he?

But then Paula realized it wasn’t a matter of him not having friends.  It was only a matter of you.  You, his other limb since he was the age of six.  You, who spent every birthday and holiday with him.  You, who sat with him on the bus, and at lunch, and any party you both went to together or with your families.  You, who somehow seemed to be everywhere, in every memory.  She’d never really thought much of it, assuming it was just some childhood crush or next door neighbor that you would both eventually outgrow.  And when she had found you in his bed, naturally, she assumed the worst.  You and Steve were both in middle school.  This was prime time for puberty, and exploring sexuality.  It was the pre-high school danger zone.  No way around it.  But come to think of it, she’d never seen you act as anything other than friends.  Not that that mattered.  Friends liked each other, too.  It all had to start somewhere.

Paula glanced up at the passenger window of her car, spotting you.  You still had your knees to your chest, fresh tears of your own spilling down your cheeks.  She would never admit it, but the sight of you looking so hurt – thanks to her – made her heart ache.  She knew you were a good girl.  If anything, you were obnoxiously good.  Sometimes she wondered if you had a single mean bone in your body.  It was infuriating, really.

She turned back to her son, who was still weeping uncontrollably and waiting for her to respond.  That really drove the knife deeper into her heart, and she could feel herself cracking.  The brutal truth of it all was landing, the realization dawning on her.

You were Steve’s home.

Mr. and Mrs. Harrington would never be that for their son.  Nor would their great big house.  No social status, or money, or upper class school would give him refuge.  But you?  You did that.  Have been doing that for the past six years.  

Steve didn’t lack friends.  He lacked family.  And you were far closer to family than his actual family was.

Mrs. Harrington took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose, keeping her emotions at bay.  She pushed her bangs out of her face, slowly rising to stand.  She closed her eyes briefly, mustering up whatever strength was left in her.  Then, she made her way towards you with a collected yet somber expression etching her feminine features.

All you could do was watch her, unable to breathe as you anxiously waited to see what she was about to do.  To your surprise, she reached for the handle…and opened your door.  You sat there, frozen in place.  Mrs. Harrington didn’t hurry you back out of her car, seeing how visibly afraid you were.  Instead, she just tilted her head slightly, and you knew that was your cue.  Newfound relief surged through you, and you felt the ice pick that was lodged in your chest finally melt.  Cautiously, you made your way out of the passenger’s seat, your bare feet touching the grass.  You looked up at her timidly, finding her expression to be blank.  

Then you turned to Steve.  Beautiful, sweet Steve.  He was still on the ground, his cries steadying.  When he saw you step out of the car, he stumbled to his feet, hiccuping.  You kept your head low, shoulders slumped as you made your way towards him.  You crashed into his chest, feeling the weight of the world lifted off your shoulders as Steve’s arms wrapped around you.

Steve’s entire world had ended just a few minutes ago, and now it had begun again.  The second you were back in his arms, everything was alright.  He still hiccupped and whimpered, but you did too.  You just held each other, crying softly.  

All Paula could do was watch.  Something about the way her son held you – so protectively and so full of love – made something inside her stir.  A sour taste filled her mouth, wanting to feel touched by it but too bitter at her own miserable reality to let it do so.  Because her son resonated more love than her husband ever could.  The way that Steve clung to you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he swayed you both side to side, was the truest form of love that Paula had ever seen.  Her friends had never held her like that, when she was a little girl.  Even all grown up, Chet had never held her like that.  Not even close.  Not even at their happiest, years ago.  Maybe she had assumed that their son would naturally be the same way.  

God, was she wrong.  Because as you fiddled your fingers in the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck, whispering how sorry you were, causing Steve to just shake his head against your shoulder and tell you not to be, Paula Harrington saw the epitome of true love shine through her son.  And, by extension, you. 

She hung her head, unable to look any more.  It upset her too much.  So she quietly made her way back inside, refusing to speak of this ever again.  Not with Steve, or with you.  Your parents would never know, and Chet Harrington would never know either.  

As Steve held you close to him, refusing to let you go, somehow you both knew that you would never have to worry about this again.  You weren’t going to be pulled apart, or stop being there for each other.  Because even if you had been driven away from him today, Steve would have persisted.  You would have done the same.  Tethered souls cannot be untethered.

Steve was twelve years old when he found that out.

___________

It was Steve’s fifteenth birthday when he kissed you for the very first time.

His parents were out at some party that night, having brought yours along too.  So the house was his for the night, until they drunkenly stumbled home.  All of his friends were elated.  Big house, no parents.  That’s the way Carol Perkins always puts it.  Steve Harrington’s house was the coolest on the block.  Huge pool with a deck.  Two stories, plus a man cave basement with a fully stocked mini bar that felt like an underground speakeasy.  And best of all, no parental supervision.  

Steve had become quite the hit, come freshman year.  He was captain on the swim team, and his body showed it.  His charm was as enticing as ever, winning every heart of every girl at school.  His boyishly handsome features blossomed day by day, growing cuter by the second.  His hair had become his statement piece, coining his nickname, Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.  He had it goin’ on, and everyone knew it.  Including you.

You, too, were a catch.  Your hair was longer, and you’d trimmed layers into your long red locks so that you had little side swept curtain bangs that all the girls wanted.  You were a cheerleader, but you really loved photography.  So you took that up, too.  You also had a great house for parties, which your mom was always too willing to host for you and your cheer squad girlfriends.  You never really planned those, so much as she did. And sure, you shared the same circle of friends as Steve.  But you still had that introverted loner streak in you, liking to do your own thing.  Steve was the social butterfly, his posse of admirers increasing more and more.  You were popular, given that you were the freshman heartthrob’s best friend.  ‘Steve’s girl.’  

Except you weren’t his girl, though.  Not really.  Yeah, you two were inseparable as ever.  That hasn’t changed.  But you weren’t technically his.  At least, not romantically…

“C’mon, big boy!  Chug the rest’a that beer so we can play some spin the bottle!”

Tommy H.  Somehow, that rowdy kid had gotten into your circle.  You weren’t really sure how.  He played basketball, but he was mostly on the bench.  His daddy was rich, too, but he was a drunk and a slob.  His step-mom was somewhere in her twenties, probably leaning more towards the younger end.  No one really knew much about his actual mom, but the mommy issues definitely showed.  Not that this had stopped Carol from being all over him.  Those two had their tongues down each other’s throats all the time, ever since she hit on him at one of the games.  They had snuck behind the bleachers to make out.  Probably more.  They bickered, sometimes being downright cruel to each other.  But it seemed to be their thing.

Oh yeah, and about Carol.  She was pretty much the same as she was in kindergarten.  Bratty.  Obnoxious.  Loud.  But when she had noticed you and Steve were still friends, and Tommy H. had made it clear to her that that wasn’t changing anytime soon, she’d retired her days of picking on you.  She pretty much had since that day at recess, but especially after seeing you were this untouchable princess in Steve’s world.  She didn’t get it, but she didn’t care to try.  She merely accepted it, and so you let it be.  You were stronger than you had been back then, having more of a voice.  But you were still a good girl at heart, soft spoken and a little too forgiving. 

“Oh Jesus,” Steve muttered, chuckling as he swiped at his perfect hair.  

Tommy H. has an arm slung around him, getting everyone to cheer him on.  You sat on the couch next to Stacy and Liz, your Paps Blue Ribbon in hand, grinning.  Chug, chug, chug, everyone chanted.  Soon enough, Steve’s bottle was empty and a circle was forming on the floor.  You settled on the ground across from him, shooting him a cute smirk.  He winked — and it didn’t matter how long you’d known him, it always made you blush.

“This seat taken?”

You looked up to find Christopher Cazaway standing above you, a soft smile on his lips.  You returned it, patting the empty space beside you.

“Be my guest.”

He obliged, not hesitating to take you up on the offer.  Christopher was a sophomore.  Blonde, handsome, 6’5” and a basketball superstar.  He was bound to get a scholarship somewhere great, no doubt in anyone's mind.  He was every coach’s dream, along with every girl at the school.  But as far as his personality goes, he wasn’t the jock type.  He was sort of a gentle giant, with a heartwarming smile and hearty laugh.  He could dribble and shoot hoops like no other, and he was drop dead handsome, but there wasn’t a vain bone in his body.  Christopher was surprisingly soft spoken, almost shy.  He was mature, sometimes seeming a little wise beyond his years.  He seemed to talk better with adults than teens in ways.  Still, everyone adored him.  He got invited to every party, hosting a few of his own but rarely.  

Secretly introverted kids like you noticed other like minded souls when you spotted them.  But little did you know, it was Christopher who had noticed you first.  Sure, he liked your vibrant red hair and ocean grey eyes.  Yeah, he noticed the lean build of your legs and slim curve of your neck and jawline.  Absolutely, he thought you were beautiful.  He liked the thin little rings you wore on your fingers, and he thought your laugh was adorable.  More than anything though, Christopher liked the way you carried and presented yourself.  He liked that you were so aware, observant.  You weren’t aloof, or like all the other girls that flung themselves at him.  You were real.  And he liked that.  A lot.  He kept liking more things about you, the more you both sat together in chemistry class or saw each other at basketball practice, since that’s where you had cheer meets.

“Man,” he said, crossing his legs.  “Haven’t played spin the bottle since middle school.”

You hummed a light chuckle, setting down your drink.  “Well if it makes you feel any better, I’ve never played period.”

He cocked an eyebrow, grinning at you.  “Is that right?”

You smiled sheepishly.  “I don’t get out much.”

He had to chuckle at that, knowing you were half kidding.  But he didn’t doubt that you’d never played before.  Not because you seemed awkward or uncomfortable, but because you weren’t like the other girls.  Or anyone here, for that matter.  You weren’t the typical snobby rich girl, from her snobby rich family.  You were different.

From across the room, Steve watched you two talk.  He found it interesting that Christopher and you talked with such ease, never having realized you two might be friends.  But Stacy and Liz chimed into your conversation eventually, and Tommy H. was back to hollering again.

“Everybody, shut up!” he shouted, silencing people for the most part.  He clapped his hands together, grinning like an idiot.  “Let’s fuck some lips.”

Girls made faces and sounds of disgust, while most of the dudes snickered in agreement.   You kept a straight face, not really phased by his antics.  Christopher found the kid gross, but knew he was just an ignorant freshman who thought he was hot shit.  So he didn’t really let it irk him much.  

“Wait,” Carol interjected, cracking open a peach schnapp.  “What if, like, a guy lands on a guy?”

Tommy H. snorted.  “Then you roll again.  No one’s gay up in here.  This isn’t a faggot party.”

Steve’s nose scrunched at that.  “Tommy, c’mon, man.  Don’t say that.”

You squirmed, adding softly, “that’s really not nice.”

“What?!  It’s true.”  Tommy H. took a swig of his beer, shrugging.

“Okay, then what about girls?” Carol pressed.  Her boyfriend smiled devilishly.

“Nah, that shit’s hot,” he sneered.  

“Ugh, that’s not fair!” Carol whined, but her grin contradicted her complaint.  You internally rolled your eyes.  Oh sweet misogyny, you thought to yourself.  The selective homophobia of an insecure male asshole was enough to make you wanna puke.

“Okay, can we just — play?” Someone interjected.

“Alright, alright,” Steve said, waving his hands.  He placed his empty beer bottle in the middle of the circle, looking up to wriggle his eyebrows at everyone.  “Who’s first?”

“You are, big guy,” Tommy H. said, clapping him in the back.  “Birthday boy always kicks us off.”

Some of the teens oooh’d and giggled, dramatically.  All the girls were just itching for it to be them that the bottle landed on, so that they could smooch the hot new heartthrob of Hawkins High.  Their very own small town Prince Charming.

Steve shrugged, reaching to give the bottle a spin.  

As you watched the bottle turn and turn, you couldn’t help but feel the anxious butterflies dance in your stomach.  You weren’t sure why you hoped it landed on you.  Then again, you were.  In fact, you totally were.  You’d loved Steve for as long as you could remember.  It was inevitable, given your history.  You knew he loved you, too.  It just probably wasn’t like that.  Still, you wondered if maybe he wanted the bottle to land on you too.

But it didn’t land on you.  It landed on Becky, who couldn’t help but gasp.  She looked absolutely ecstatic, giggling like a school girl.  Steve look at her with a grin and raised an eyebrow, somehow looking both shy and confident.

Oh shit.  Were you about to watch him kiss another girl?  You hadn’t had to see that before.  Sure, you knew he’d kissed another girl before.  A few, actually.  Steve’s first kiss had been Elsie Fitzgerald.  8th grade, behind the P.E. building.  You knew that, because Steve had told you first thing.  He’d nudged you in line at the cafeteria, telling you in a low voice as he plopped a milk carton on his tray.  And you’d listened, pretending that it didn’t make your heart break.  He was pretty happy about it, more so for himself than he was actually lit up about having kissed Elsie specifically.  She had passed him a note in class, asking to be his Valentine.  Your heart really sank after hearing that, wishing it had been you.  After that, Steve had a few kisses with girls under his belt — none of which were with you.

You were still waiting on your first kiss.  

And as that reminder floated around in your head, you watched Becky crawl across the floor to lean in and kiss your best friend on the lips.  He sat still, kissing her with ease.  You wondered what it felt like.  The touch of his lips, which you always thought looked so soft.  Becky lingered a little while, and eventually Steve pulled away with a charming smile.  She squealed, flitting back to her seat and flipping her hair.  The butterflies in your stomach felt blue, but you kept a light smile on your face to mask it. 

Now, Tommy spun the bottle. One by one, teens kissed.  Some girls even kissed, making you flush.  You watched Steve kiss a couple other girls, all of them doing a horrible job at concealing their giggling fits.  At some point, it was your turn to spin — and it landed right between Steve and Tommy H. 

Now you really felt butterflies in your stomach. Their dance was a little angry this time, though.  Your anxiety spiked, dreading the thought of kissing Tommy but nerves wrecked as you thought about getting to kiss Steve.

Your eyes glanced up at your best friend by default, finding that he was already looking back at you shyly.  Tommy barked a laugh, clapping his hands.

“Look, I don’t wanna make any calls here,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender.  “But uhhh, I’ll let the birthday boy take this one.  As much as I’d love to rock your world, princess.”

Your eyes narrowed at him.  “That’s one way to put it.”

“C’mon, birthday boy,” Carol snickered.  “Kiss your best friend.”

Steve felt himself blush, hoping he didn’t look as nervous as he felt.  God, he had wondered what it felt like to kiss you for so long without even realizing that he had until this very moment.  The way you were looking at him right now, looking so calm and content, he never would have known that you were so completely in love with him.  He was pretty sure that he was a party of one, in that department.  

Tommy kept making gross kissy noises.  Steve cleared his throat, feigning lighthearted cockiness as he looked wryly at Tommy.  

“Knock it off, man,” he mumbled, turning back to face you.  

You watched him eye you with curiosity, as if he was silently asking you if this was okay.  But you just smiled warmly, welcoming the contact.  So Steve got on his knees and crawled over to you, meeting you halfway.  As he got closer to you, he could see those tiny sun kissed freckles that lightly dusted your nose, and the smooth surface of your porcelain cheek.  He could see the light whisk of mascara on your eyelashes, and the very neutral shade of lipstick on your full lips.  He felt himself swallow, his usual bravado failing him.  You looked so gentle, sweet as ever.  He wondered if your tongue tasted as sweet as you were…

You sat back on your knees and heels, hands placed in your lap as you looked at him, patient and a little sheepish.  Steve was so close to you now, basking in the scent of your soft perfume.  It smelled like the ocean, with faint traces of coconut and vanilla.  He wanted to kiss you.  He really did.  

“Oh my god, kiss already!” Carol screeched.  

But neither of you flinched, even as the others echoed their sentiments.  You breathed a tiny laugh, making Steve grin.  Without thinking, he found himself placing a hand to the curve of your jaw.  Oh.  He hasn’t done that with the other girls.  His breath lightly hitched at the contact, realizing he’d never actually been this close to you.  Which made no sense, given you’d fallen asleep in the same bed for how many years now?  But this was different.  This type of intimacy wasn’t the same.

You subtly leaned into his touch, eyes never leaving his.  His thumb stroked your cheek, the corner of his lip tugging upwards.  Your noses touched, the sharp tip of his against the little perky end of yours.  His breath was warm against your skin, feeling like a blanket wrapping itself around your face.  You both kept leaning in, slowly.  Ever so slowly.

Finally, his bottom lip grazed yours.  And those butterflies in your stomach were doing a full blown ballet now.  Steve felt his heart skip a beat.  Maybe several beats.  

Damn, he thought.  Since when did kissing feel like this?

It was the way your lips moved against his, so graceful and supple.  The way your fair skin felt like satin beneath his finger tips.  Steve felt a rush of euphoria overcome him, reveling in the feeling of your mouth against his.  Becky didn’t kiss like that.  Elsie didn’t, or any of the other girls.  People always said that kissing is an art.  Steve did have a reputation for being a good kisser, even at just fifteen years old.  He just didn’t really think much of it until he was enchanted by your kiss.  

Part of him thought that there was no way you hadn’t kissed somebody before.  Not with how incredible you felt brushing your lips with his.  Then again — maybe it was because you had never been kissed before that it was so magical.  That innocent bliss of being ‘untouched,’ not yet tainted by anyone or anything.

Meanwhile, you reveled in the rhapsody of Steve’s kiss.  It was everything you ever could have dreamed it would be, and more.  His lips were soft, cloud-like to the touch.  He was gentle in the ways you thought he might be rough, and tame in the ways you thought might be wild.  He didn’t rush anything, taking his time with even the most microscopic of movements.  The light yet firm grasp of his hand on your jaw was slightly edging down towards your neck, and it was all you could do not to hum with lovesick satisfaction.

Yeah, no, everyone thought.  He definitely hadn’t been this tender when kissing the other girls here.

It made those other girls watch you with envy, guys cocking an eyebrow and making immature, snide remarks under their breath.  It was so obvious, the magnetic pull between the two of you.  Anyone could see it.  Even the two of you did, but neither of you would ever admit that.  At least not anytime soon.

And as the kiss ended all too soon — well, too soon for you guys, not necessarily the others — Steve’s pillow soft lips parted from yours as he ever so slightly pulled back to look at you.  Your angelic face was still just an inch or so away from his, your eyelashes fluttering open to reveal your grey irises, exposing a new tint of lovesick blue.  They sparkled, dancing as you looked into his brown eyes that now looked more like the color honey.  You bit your lip, a timid smile finding your freshly kissed pout.  

God, Steve thought.  He would've kissed you again, right then and there.

But as Tommy H. hooted and hollered, snapping your two out of your gaze, reality sunk in again.  This was a party, and it was just a game.  It wasn’t a real kiss.  It was prompted by a bottle and reckless youth.  Nothing more.

Right?

“Well alrighty then, lovebirds,” some guy chided with a dark laugh.

You blushed, casting your eyes downwards.  You composed yourself, watching Steve do the same.  Yep, it was just a dream.

“Yeah, since when did this become a love making session?” Tommy H. jested.

Steve shot Tommy a scowl, before watching you scooch back to where you’d been sitting.  You gave him a shy smile, twiddling your thumbs in your lap.  Steve quickly scooted back to his place too, across from you in the circle.  He smiled back at you softly, before Tommy gave him a macho shove.  Steve shoved him back, but with half the strength.  He was still snapping out of it.  Soon, he cleared his throat, forcing his mental fantasies to the back of his brain again.

“Alright, next up,” Steve said, straightening his hair.  Fuck, did anyone else see how nervous he felt?  Apparently not, because everyone seemed to resume the game like nothing had ever happened.

Christopher clicked his tongue and slapped his hands on his knees.  “Welp,” he said, leaning forward.  “Guess it’s me.”

He gave the bottle a good spin.  

Lo and behold, it landed on you.

“Oh shit!” Tommy H. exclaimed, rolling over into a ridiculously unnecessary fit of laughter.  

Carol made obnoxiously loud remarks, too, along with lots of people in the circle.

Yeah.  Oh shit, indeed.

“Aww, little princess is getting all the kisses tonight,” she cooed condescendingly, her high pitched voice so fake and sugary sweet.

You felt your cheeks flush again, allowing yourself to tinker a laugh.  You turned to face Christopher, finding him rubbing his neck with a bashful smile on his face.  He looked at you with slightly timid eyes, chuckling nervously.  He was nervous?  Why would he be nervous, you wondered?

Oddly, you felt very at ease about the situation.  It was just Christopher.  He was always kind to you, and a good friend since you started high school.  If you’d had to kiss anybody else in the circle, you would prefer it be him than some guy you hardly knew.  And you certainly hoped it wouldn’t land on Tommy. 

You shrugged your shoulders, giving him a little grin.  He grinned back, brightly.  The corners of his eyes crinkled, and it was adorable really.  

Given that he was seated right next to you, no awkward crawling towards each other had to take place.  You just pivoted to face him, comfortably.  This kiss didn’t make you nervous.  You’d just gotten your first one out of the way, with the one guy you had been in love with your whole life.  So a second one with someone who was just a friend?  It seemed pretty easy.

Christopher had his eyes intently on you, which dropped down to look at your lips then back up to your eyes.  He leaned back on one hand, which he placed slightly behind you firmly into the carpet.  It gently brushed against your hip, his tone arm ghosting over the fabric of your dress.  He leaned in closer, slow and calculated, so that he was slightly looking up at you.  You still weren’t nervous, though, even as you looked into his dark blue eyes.  You just smiled, waiting.  His loods became hooded as he tilted his head just right, so that yours could tilt the opposite way whenever your lips made contact.  Sure enough, his lips found yours, and it was the most grounding kiss.  It was sweet, a little firmer than Steve’s.  He was soft, just a little more assertive.  Suddenly you felt his other hand cup the back of your neck, his touch tender and caring but secure.  It surprised you, but you didn’t pull away.  In fact, you instinctively placed a hand on his knee. 

If you hadn’t been busy locking lips with Christopher, you would have seen the melancholy expression on Steve’s face.  But you didn’t.  

Steve hopelessly watched you kiss the handsome sophomore, overcome with a sense of dread.  He hadn’t taken this into account when playing the game.  You know, that he’d actually have to watch you kiss another guy.  Maybe that wasn’t really the problem, though.  No, the problem was the way that Christopher kissed you.  Was still kissing you.  Steve could have sworn that he saw the blonde athlete move his lips against yours a second time, and envy creeped up his spine.  Christopher definitely hadn’t kissed Linda or Molly like that earlier in the game, when the bottle had landed on him during their turn.  Nah, this was just with you.  Why the hell was he kissing you like that?

…why the hell was he still kissing you like that?

Steve squirmed.  He felt as though he might laugh, or shout, or blurt something without being able to control himself, and he probably would have had it not been for you finally breaking contact with Christopher.  Oh thank Christ, Steve thought, as he let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding this whole time.

You simply gave Christopher a warm smile, but your eyes looked slightly dazed and confused.  Because you were.  It had caught you a little off guard, the way that he’d just kissed you.  It definitely lasted a little longer than needed.  Not that you minded it.  You didn’t really know what to think of it, actually.  One thing was for sure, his gaze on you was not one he’d given any of the other girls that night.  You knew that much.  You might’ve been uncharacteristically oblivious to Steve’s feelings for you, but you weren’t blind to someone else’s.  Before now, though, you never really thought that Christopher felt anything for you aside from friendship.  But now, it seemed that he did.  It seemed he very much did.

Huh, you thought.  Interesting.

You still hadn’t looked over to see Steve’s disheartened expression in the midst of all the immature teenagers in a circle, making a series of noises and comments following the kiss.  He hoped that no one was watching him.  Then again, would he even care if they did?  That didn’t matter, not when he cared way more about the fact that some other guy was looking at you like that.  It didn’t sit right.  It really didn’t sit right.  

But what was he gonna do about it?  Say, “Hey Christopher, it’s my birthday, so maybe back off my girl?”  No, because you weren’t technically his.  You were your own.

…but your heart was his.

…and his heart was yours.

Steve doesn’t really remember much after that.  He knew they hadn’t been playing for much longer, and that eventually everyone wanted to shotgun some more beers.  He knew that Linda and Becky had been saying something to him in the lavish living room, as they twirled their hair and batted their lashes.  He knew that Tommy H. had been daring everyone to jump in the pool, dragging Carol in with him.  Teens screeched and hollered, splashing and laughing while the Eagles blasted in the background from the Harrington’s flashy stereo inside the house.

Steve does remember when “Sweet Emotion” by Aerosmith had started to play.  He was leaning against his kitchen island, making small talk with some of the guys.  You were out by the pool, red solo cup in hand, and you had started to sway to yourself.  The skirt of your dress flicked at the corners, your toned legs sashaying you from side to side.  You turned a little, so that he could see your profile.  You were grinning ear to ear, in your own little world.  He loved when you did that.  You were so damn adorable when you did that.  You lifted a hand into the air – the one not holding your cup of booze – closing your eyes, and singing the words.

Sweet emotion…

Sweet emotion…

You talk about things that nobody cares

Wearing out things that nobody wears

You turn so that you’re now facing the open sliding glass door, opening your eyes as you fix your gaze on Steve.  Your eyes are a little hazy, but still glow.  You point your finger at Steve, serenading him in your buzzed stupor.  Your grin deepens as you sing the next words along with Steven Tyler.

You’re calling my name, but I gotta make clear

I can’t say, baby, where I’ll be in a year

Steve can feel himself smiling like an idiot, shaking his head as he lets out a throaty chuckle that’s drowned out by the music.  He bites his lip absentmindedly, watching you just exist.  You throw your head back, smiling at the sky, hips still swaying.  

Stacy makes her way over to you from the other side of the pool, definitely more drunk than you were.  She sings loudly, catching your attention.  You look down from the black night sky to look at her, and you laugh when you see her wanting to join you.  She grabs your hand, twirling you around and singing everything off key.

Some sweat hog mama with a face like a gent

Said my get up and go, must've got up and went

Well I got good news, she's a real good liar

'Cause the backstage boogie sets your pants on fire

As the guitar solo rips through the stereo speakers, your dancing intensifies.  Everyone in the pool seem to be getting rowdier, also singing Aerosmith at the top of their lungs.

Stacy’s footing betrays her and she stumbles, laughing drunkenly.  You catch her, making sure that she’s okay and stifling a laugh.  But once you see that she’s clearly fine, you laugh too.  Liz makes her way out of the pool to check on her, squatting down and clutching her hands and still singing while Stacy just keeps laughing.

Steve takes the opportunity to approach you as you stand alone again, sneaking up quickly to grab you and spin you around.  You squeal, feeling his chest pressed to your back as your legs dangle off the ground.  You hold onto his toned arms tightly, giggling uncontrollably.  When he sets you back down, you turn so that you’re looking directly at him.  

Sweet emotion…

Sweet emotion…

Your stomach does flip-flops, seeing his signature Steve Harrington smiled directed only at you.  His brown eyes hold a certain mischief in them, and you can’t help but feel a rush of love for this boy you’d known since you were just barely in kindergarten.  He lifts your hand to twirl you, and suddenly you’re six years old again, dancing in your treehouse with Steve.  The real world ceases to exist, and it’s just the two of you in your own fantasy world.  No matter what ups and downs, highs and lows, good days and bad days, heartache and joy, that reality throws both of your way – the one constant you both have had is each other.  Somehow, that’s never changed. 

You both sing to each other, hand in hand and hips in time with the music.

I pulled into town in a police car

Your daddy said I took it just a little too far

You're telling her things but your girlfriend lied

You can't catch me 'cause the rabbit done died

Yes it did

Now everyone around you is losing their mind, screaming the words and partying like animals as the song continues to blare.  It’s an 80’s rock-n-roll kind of vibe, full of teen angst, booze and sexual tension.  Guys shotgun more beer by the pool, couples make out in the deep end.  Girls hold each other with limp limbs and sloppy smiles, slurring the words and proclaiming their girl power love for each other.  They won’t remember it tomorrow, but for tonight it’s the glorious eternal truth.

As for you – Nicole St. James, the freshman mystery girl and princess in the making – you’ve only got eyes and moves for your best friend in the world.  Steve Harrington, Hawkins High’s soon-to-be very own King Steve.  Two best friends and lovers in denial, hopelessly devoted to one another, just without the title.  You both dance around the truth together on his posh pool deck.  The confident shake of his hips and thrusts of yours fool you blind from seeing that you are just as equally afraid as he is to make the wrong move.

Stand in the front just a shakin' your ass

I'll take you backstage, you can drink from my glass

I'll talk about something you can sure understand

'Cause a month on the road and I'll be eating from your hand

Steve knows that something’s gotta give.  He knows that it can’t go on like this forever.  But for him, this is safe.  This is forever.  What you two have guarantees that you’ll both make it.  That you’ll never go away.  You won’t abandon him, or lose interest in him.  If he keeps his distance, even tangled up in your arms when dancing in his backyard or falling asleep next to you, then he’ll always keep you close.  All the money in the world, but he could never afford to lose that.  Not ever.

And you don’t say anything to make him change his mind.  To make him ask you to be his.  To make a move beyond a kiss shared in a public game of spin-the-bottle.  To tell you that he doesn’t just love you – but that he is in love with you.  You don’t confess it either, no matter how fiercely you want to do exactly that.  Because as selfish as it was, you were content too.  You never minded being on your own, but a world without Steve stopped being fathomable in 1972 on that brisk afternoon in your treehouse.  The second he had knocked on your pastel yellow door, in his little sage green sweater, jeans and converse, your solitude had made room for a second person.  He was your other half, so it really wasn’t even surrendering solitude.  It was simply completing it.  Steve completed it.  Completed you.

_________________

To be continued…

VOLUME II next month 🖤

TAG LIST: @loveshotzz @creelhousesteve @t-lostinworlds @freezaz123 @zbeez-outlet @cutiecusp @unhealthyobservationsloves @sunioli

[kengan-daddies]

Hello I have read some of your works and would like to ask you, if you could write more about Rei Mikazuchi❤️❤️❤️. I think you are the only one that I have seen write about him🥲 Could you please write a SFW story, but please make it a happy ending.🥰

I know right!? Rei gets no love in the community, my boi is cute, hot, and sexy!! What more could we want in a character, aside from characterization.

Also, I'm so sorry, I feel like this has a hint of angst, but the ending wasn't Angst, and the story isn't exactly happy and fluffy, I feel like I failed but writing SFW for Rei is lowkey kind of hard, but I'll just keep trying with him until it finally happens!! When I do it, I'll tag you in it!! Because you deserve it!!

Love is what You Make It Rei Mikazuchi

Anime : Kengan Ashura Character : Rei Mikazuchi Warning : Mention of violence, sensitive topics, discussion of ideology, slight angst? SFW

Love is what You Make It Rei Mikazuchi

Love is what You Make It Rei Mikazuchi

Living is already hard, having to pay bills, and making sure you have enough for groceries, hygienic products, household products, and even a little treat for yourself, but like they always say " life is what you make it" , just like home. Living in your own place can be rough at times, having nosy neighbors that could be rude on top of it, a stingy landlord, DHA on your ass for the smallest of reports, bugs, piping, cracks, not enough space, or too much space, but home is what you make it.

If that's the case, then couldn't that go for love too? You choose who you love, but you can't choose 'what' you love. For example, you fall in love with a lair, but you'll never know that they're a liar until you're in too deep. That goes for thieves, killers, rapists, racists, sexists, homophobes, pedophiles, stalkers, and abusers, it applies to all of them. You can't just back out and say 'Let's break up, I never want to see you again.' after spending 5 years with a person, even 1 year is more than enough time to develop a bond that's almost inseparable.

Humans are social animals, we thrive in social activities, even those who say they don't still do. Watching TV is a form of social interaction, you're learning characters, developing feelings for the ones you like most or despise, and researching their real age and where they come from. Even just reading this now, is a form of social interaction. Another human wrote this, and you're deep into the stories that have been written on this blog, you may have even followed and are extremely pleased that there is another writer who writes for this fandom. Social interactions are everywhere you look. In a book, on TV, in your phone, or even in a picture.

It's hard to pull back, especially when you had learned that Rei was an assassin. You were angry, you felt betrayed, you felt underestimated in your loyalty. It was like he didn't trust you enough, but you were in too deep to tell him to 'never see me again.' You've met Rei for Rei. You've seen him laugh, you've seen him cry, sleep, eat, vulnerable, strong, and funny. You've seen him at his highest and at his lowest, so why didn't he trust you enough to let you know?... Fear, he was afraid that you'd reject him, call him a monster and a killer, which you wouldn't be wrong, but can a monster love like he does? Can a monster cry like he does? You'd think not.

You love Rei for Rei, and he loved you for you, you made a deal with him, that he can continue his job unless it's just evil people that he killed, but he couldn't agree to that, simply because evil people just don't exist in his eyes. "Everyone has a different point of view on life, you'd either die and let a starving child eat your last meal, you'd eat the meal and leave the child to starve, or you'd eat the child and save the food for later, there's no in-between. However. there is a fourth option, sharing the food, but one of you will still end up in the other's stomach in the end. Either way, you look at it, it's either evil or good. Or take this, you're about to be murdered, will you let the killer kill you? Or will you kill the killer? Either way, someone is dead, and there will still be a mother weeping over their dead child." That was Rei's point of view.

So, you decided that he'd stop killing instead, you wanted to argue with his logic, but no matter how you looked at it, it was the truth. He was so blunt about it, just like how blunt he is for his love for you. He wants you to be blunt, so you will, and you want him to stay. Knowing that he has spilled blood on his hands, knowing that he's destroyed families, you still wanted him... Suddenly his logic on life was staring you in the face. Cuddling up with Rei, holding him tight at night when he'd have nightmares, having breakfast with him, lunch, dinner, laughter, and dates... It was a part of Rei, it was a part of you.

It was what you guys did, it was all you guys could do because it was a strange romance, but whoever said that there was a guidebook to romance? It was what you make it, and honestly, you guys were doing a damn good job at it too.