#i had to figure out how to word it right lol ive been writing this for a half an hour

[stevie-petey]

episode one: the hellfire club

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

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

Rating: general, some swearing

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

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

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

–

March 21st, 1986.

Dear Y/N,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mike is visiting!

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

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

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

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

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

Love, El.

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

For bug.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yikes, Dusty.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eddie Munson.”

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

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

–

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

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

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

“Family Video isn’t a lousy job–”

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

“Okay, yeah. It’s pretty lousy.”

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

You suck in a breath. “Steve…”

Richard Harrington is a cruel, awful man. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which means it has to be about someone. 

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

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

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

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

“I really don’t care–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“True love’s side.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Boobies! It’s not a big deal–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

– 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not the best combination, honestly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s good with a bat.”

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

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

The moment is sweet, it makes you smile. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jason Carver was more than happy to ascend the throne. 

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

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

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

You’re the best of them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hate Jason Carver.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Goddamn Eddie Munson. 

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

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

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

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

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

Seems like a pretty easy decision to you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dustin sighs, “thanks, Y/N–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is?”

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

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

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

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

– 

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

You’ll miss him when you graduate. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

“No!” You scream at him. 

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

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

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

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

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

Abandonment makes you cruel. Your father taught you that.

– 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lucas is playing.

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

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

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

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

“Sinclair did it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sin to win, Sinclair!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

– 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now Steve wants to do the same for you.

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

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

“You… you can’t.” 

Steve frowns. “I can’t what?”

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

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

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

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

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

But he can’t see that right now.

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

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

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

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

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

“Steve–”

“You were just going to leave me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think you should go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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[goaskangel]

bookie!

journalist!reader x business-man!hakari

cw...NSFW, slight manipulation, mention of intox, use of "mister" "sir" "doll", dumification, degradation, all the usual smut stuff LOL

word count...4.8k

a/n...this is my first fic ive posted publicly EEEK lowk nervy but i've read like 2 good hakari fics on this mf website and i js figured i might as well do it myself. my writing here IS NOT MY BEST, i plan to indulge into how i usually write. smut is a little harder for me to write so be patient AND NICE PLZ. mdni!please understand what kind of media you are consuming and be smart about it.

just the way hakari presented himself, it felt as if even if you didn’t suspect anything from him, it was obvious he was a secretive and cocky man. from how he dressed with his constant change between pimpy-fur coats and vulgar tanks with his ever-changing colored hair between purples, blacks, and blondes, it was no surprise he must’ve lied his way to the top. 

and even with this assumption, you couldn’t deny the offer of living with him and your company's team. not necessarily living with him but staying in a private luxury hotel, and sure, maybe your job here wasn’t very important as a journalist but your boss insisted on you attending. 

what kind of moron would pass on the opportunity of possibly breaking through one of japan’s wealthiest and slyest business men anyway?

something about interviews but mostly projects, maybe even a documentary went in your ear and out the other when your boss spoke to you about the expectations on this “trip.”

after being stuck on a reserved bus, you finally manage to push through and make it to a not very deserted place. matter of fact it was right in front of a busy street in the busiest city. you stretched your legs, cracked a few fingers, and headed to the entrance of the tall—what seemed to be marbled—hotel. if you could even call it that. seemed like a resort more than anything. you were told your bags full of equipment for work and clothes for the three day project would be handled by security. the front of the building were two big guards protecting any outsiders. pretty confidential for just a few days. it stays on brand with hakari’s whole attitude, a whole ass hotel in the city only allowing a few people with specific identification. 

inside it looked like everybody from every corporate office in town had been messily dragged in.  heavy steel tables were set randomly with even heavier bags and briefcases on top, open with papers and documents spilling out. 

the man himself was sitting at one of the sturdy desks, his head down.

before you noticed that he decided to go purple, left his black blazer on the shoulders of the chair he sat on, you watched as his hand shook carefully on a paper given to him by the lady standing nearby. 

his hot pink eyes dart back and forth across the page. you assume he was looking for another place to sign because he handed it right back to her after examining. hakari returns back to a binded notebook, the pen still in his fingers. he scribbles words down vigorously. part of you wonders what he’s got going on. another part wonders where your room will be. 

you observe the rest of the lobby. you glance at your boss finally coming through security, the dumb, happy guy starts a conversation with almost everyone as he came. he calls hakari over as if they’ve known each other since the dawn of time, and he follows. they greet one another and you go blank on the rest until your name is called. quickly, you turn to face the men again and walk towards them.

"if the interview goes well—which i'm sure it will—perhaps the documentary could follow up.” your boss explains, still turnt to hakari.

“mhm oh yeah man i’m sure of it, yep.” he agrees, mooning. his white button up hugging him perfectly. 

scrunched up sleeves, pen marks on his forearms. a few buttons undone from the neck. 

“this young lady right here is the foundation of the writing department.”

“oh yeah. so i’ve read.” 

he reaches a hand out, “took you a while to say hi.” 

“you seemed busy, signing shit n’ whatnot.” you smile politely and firmly shake his hand. he cheeses a toothy grin, blue and silver gems shine back at you. 

“pardon her words, man. you know how writers are—can write page upon pages yet their mind goes blank when they have a chance to speak—hah.” your boss shines his own nervous smile. 

“ya, know what they say about business men, can talk for hours and hours, spill what seems to be almost everything, and still have secrets.” he darts his eyes to yours before closing and laughing richly with the older man. 

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you spend the rest of the night cozying up into your hotel room and lazily journaling down ideas, even scraping up an idea against hakari. you stretch your arms after tossing your notebook shut, you glance over at the alarm on the desk,

11:24 P.M. 

it would be a good time to grab a snack, now that everyone should be asleep. at least you hope so as you walk out in casual clothes. 

you toss the room’s card from hand to hand and pass quiet rooms until turning left to the snack bar. you were told earlier that food would be available for the company whenever, so you figured it must be open now too, with all the staff asleep or at their posts. 

there was an incredible aroma of columbian brew with a dash of vanilla dancing with something hot, something fresh out of the oven. you’re greeted with his strong back. shaped tightly, almost too tight, was a simple white tank. on caramel skin, his wide shoulders flexed as he took a small spoon into his mug, tossing sugar packets and singles of liquid creamers into a trash bin. but it doesn’t really phase you. what were the chances of somebody being here? let alone hakari. it’s ironic and mostly awkward. 

you could’ve left but the pastry before you was calling your name. how awkward could it really be?

you walk towards the counter he was just at, he who was walking back to a two-chaired table. 

“it’s almost midnight.” he speaks and you freeze as if you’ve been caught. obviously, you haven’t, so you quickly grabbed a floral napkin and the pastry. 

“writers stay up late, i know that. but they’re usually alone.”

“well how was i supposed to know somebody else was gonna be up? it is almost midnight.”

“you’re the one writing stories about me and talking shit, i’d assume you’d know everything about me.” he grins as he pulls a chair out, sitting in it and slowly stirring his coffee. steam swirls up from the cup. “take a seat.” 

you walk to him and pull the other chair out, sitting quietly. you break apart the food in your hands and eat it piece by piece, examining the table subtly. 

he’d been sitting there for a while; papers closed a binder with a few pens spilt around. an empty chip bag, a few crumbs near the bottom of the coffee cup, his hands warming up around it. 

his hands were nice.

you swallow casually and look back at him. “you read my stuff? which one of your little employees do you have search for works written about you, huh?” 

“i find ‘em myself, ‘nd you're lucky i don’t report them. can’t have nasty stuff circulating around me, whether if it’s true or not.” 

“—or should i call them workers instead?” you ignore him. 

“your writing is admirable.” 

something about that made you lose track of what you were saying. 

you lay back in your chair and mumble an okay. 

you watch as he takes a sip of his sugared coffee, the steam cupping his face gently and flowing up. 

“so when do you sleep?” 

“i’ll go in a couple,” he says, cracking his knuckles. “schedule’s got all fucked ever since i got here. my manager—and don’t tell her i said this—doesn’t understand the concept of time, or maybe she’s fucking with me. how can i get three hours of paperwork done, meetings between each pile, ‘nd make phone calls back to back, but can’t stay up late?” 

“damn, you’ve even got your sleep schedule sorted?” 

“gotta sneak out here like some goddamn teenager. it’s no big deal, she’s knocked out at 10. jus’ gotta keep kissing her ass and thank her for taking such good care of me. she won’t suspect a thing.” 

you giggle at the irony, “might as well be your girlfriend.” 

“god, more like my mom.” you can see the outline of his tongue grazing his teeth as he grins. probably feeling the gems on his smile, you cross your legs at the view. 

funny and handsome. 

speaking of closing your thighs—you remember you have to get back to your room. 

“we’ve got just three days,” you say as you stand from your chair, “i’m sure we’ll have to work our asses off tomorrow.” hakari looks up at you.

“hmm nobody tell you wha’s happening either?” 

you shake your head and carefully bite the inside of your lip. 

“m’kay. have a good rest of your night, then.” he nods back down and sips his coffee. his tone indicated he practically knew you weren’t sleeping immediately. to enjoy the rest of your night. 

“yeah, i’ll make sure of it. goodnight.” 

as happy as you were to receive a half-vacation, half-business trip at a hotel – the benefits of not having to wake up early just to drive almost an hour to work everyday, the entire company just being outside, your hands would not suffice. you thought to yourself earlier, how great it’d be to stay in a nice, cool room and wind down from a long day. keeping dirty fantasies in your head and just when you thought the tight, small circles on your heat could master an orgasm. but the thought of him kept interrupting. 

a hand crawling up your neck and the other circling underneath your panties. closing your eyes as you concentrated on silver-haired men kissing your breasts, guys who stunk of cigarettes and coffee making out with your clit, god anybody willing to run their hands on your body. you jolt at the sudden twitch of your cunt, your back arching slightly. you groan. the man you’ve been practically stalking and have to work with is now appearing in your head while you masturbate. you switch the bedside lamp off and take off-white sheets over yourself. 

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on the second day, you pass new people while walking down narrow hallways. each person looking more tired than the one before. you notice just how many people could fill up the lobby and snack bar. as enticing the syrup from breakfast smelled, you keep your distance from everybody else. carefully, you lick the inner of your lips and taste the lipgloss you applied earlier. 

now popping your lips, backing up slowly, still examining the room until you feel what seems to be a pillar or wall behind you. 

“hey… you got a light?” behind you. tall, peeping over you – was that a fur coat? hakari watches everybody else almost as intently as you were. 

you stutter before reaching into your coat’s pocket, “yeah.” he takes it and quickly lights the now-appeared-cigarette of his mouth. 

“a smoke for breakfast? that can’t be healthy.” you cross your arms as he flips the lighter in the air. 

“it wouldn’t have been, hun, we had breakfast this morning already. don't you remember?” he exhales smoke that passes your jaw, making you shudder. 

“here, sounds like you need it.” he says the last part through his teeth, pinching the end of the cig and lowering it to your mouth. you glare to your side and lean in to wrap your lips around it, inhaling. you pull away and spew smoke out much more discreetly. he takes another, blowing it out, licking his lips, “tastes like bubblegum.” 

after set-ups and mic-checks in steel stools and numerous questions, you’re sitting in front of a laid-back hakari. his legs man-spread and his hands fixing his hair every other second. a very specific rage comes back to you. the same anger that you felt staying up to post blogs about complicated, but evident-filled, theories and what you truly think is the truth about the man sitting in front of you. the feeling is nostalgic. your nerves are overfilled with different emotions – since when could a man controlling so many industries, controlling so many people and still handle an underground fight club while acting like a semi-normal person? but normal people don’t wear fur-fucking-coats on the regular, let alone keep illegal ranges where people fight like bears just to be bet on like horses. 

two cups of steaming coffee are placed in the high-wooden table between you and hakari. 

“this part of the interview will be audio-presented. the second part will be videotaped.” the host of the section stands above the recorder, the rest of the crew standing around or still finishing breakfast. “etiquette for the tape is pretty simple – ‘ms and mr’ is usually set and the rest is self-explanitory.” 

you nod kindly and look at the man, meeting his eyes, ones that perhaps never left you. 

easy, almost-boring questions are asked but it hadn’t prepared you for what was going to come. the questions slowly make less and less connection and stay focused on hakari. “ethicality is mentioned within businesses and is no exception to your work, ms l/n.” before being asked the repetitive question, the topic being how many times can we make hakari look like a god in one tape, you interrupt the host. 

“morals are nowhere to be found in such work. there’s – again – no sense.” now slouched, hakari responds, “tell me, when searching for a job that pays well, were you interested in the pay or how many hours you had to work? ‘s there something you w’na say about being able to survive or how comfortable you are?” 

“sometimes it just boggles me to think about how one person needs more than one business. is it for fun, mister?”

“is what for fun, girl?” 

“is being a con-man to violent people and making them believe knocking each other’s teeth out will help for fun?” 

the host stutters and gets shushed, “well, you’re very right. that wouldn’t be ethical at all.” he smiles very faintly. too faintly for you to lash out and not make it seem like you’re crazy. 

“untruthful about being a bookie and fight-promoter. does gachinko ring a bell?”

“any more questions? how about all my employees' salaries? wanna know my salary? how’s about ‘you busy after this?’” 

the recorder falls off the foldable table after being shaken, “for the love of god.” your boss yells and stops. scrunching his fat nose and pinching the bridge. “that was the fourth time. i just… you know what, we’ll continue tomorrow morning. kinji you’ve got a meeting we’ve, i’ve, been trying to hold off but it seems like everybody’s in the mood for a break.” he walks to the exit of the lobby, followed by some of his crew. hakari gets up, exhaling and cracking his fingers and wrists. 

“almost as good as your writing. but writers always gotta fuck up while speaking.” he picks up the recorder from the ground and tosses it to the full cups of coffee. 

“are they going to post it?” 

he shakes his head. 

“then what?” 

“might do it all again tomorrow. a little more strict, too. it’s not like it was a bad tape either. just like you know, i can’t let shit spread around about me. i would never allow it.”  

you scoff and watch him walk off, cursing under your breath.

it’s the evening when he comes back, bringing a few drunk men through the guards. you nod your head back and forth between your open laptop and the men that find their wobbly way to the lounge's couches. you tune out their slurred talk and how hakari’s joking gets belly-laughs from them. he cackles with them, clapping his hands bluntly. he sighs, tears in his eyes, as he walks past the random suitcases and desks spread-about. 

you type away at your slightly dull keys, clumsily taking your gel-pen and drabbling a note down. 

“workin’ hard, i see.” you feel a heavy hand land on your left shoulder and glance over to the other side of the desk, hakari’s ringed-fingers tapping away at the steel. 

“what’re you writing down…” he mumbles and leans over obnoxiously. you lean back in your chair, looking at him looking at your notes. 

“god, are you drunk? didn’t you just have a meeting?” 

“drunk? nah, i don’t get drunk.” 

“i can smell the whiskey from your breath.” 

“ah-ha, you knew i drank whiskey, huh. looks like even an overworked girl like you knows how to have fun, too.” he looks at you with literal joy in his pupils. face tampered with blush while smiling like a hyena. “anyway,” he stands back up, the grip on your shoulder falling to your bare-arm. “even your handwriting is nice.” 

“uh-huh…” you press your thighs together, feeling the cold metal of his jewelry on your skin. his hand so big compared to your arm. part of you hopes his long gaze is down your blouse. 

it is.

“ya look good.” he speaks through the rasp in his throat but all you hear is a mutter, he gives your arm a squeeze before patting it and walking toward the corridor of rooms. 

you let out a shaky sigh and feel yourself burn up, staring at your yellow-notepad. hakari strides to his room, the last room of the hallway, stretching his arms. he takes a gold card out and shoves it into the slot. 

he lets out a serene moan when his back hits the bed. tossing his keys, phone, and whatever junk out of his pockets onto the nightstand. his large coat following. he groans and kicks off his shoes. something still bothering him. he reaches his hands down to his belt and unravels it, throwing it down. unbuttoning and zipping to comfort the ache below his stomach.

god, how hard could a guy get from one conversation? his slit brows raise as he grins, taking his weeping cock and holding the base.

thinking about all the things you’d say, 

you’re so vulgar. not enough action recently, huh? what stress’ll do to ya…

“yeah, baby, stress.” he takes his other hand and taps the underside of his cock in his palm. closing his eyes and imagining your sweet self between his legs, those same tits in his view. your pink tongue lolling out for him. “finally shut that smart-ass mouth up… use her for something fuckin’ useful.” he groans, stroking himself. 

what makes him throb is how dumb you’d gotten when his hands were on you. how fucking sweet and quiet you went when his fingers stroked your arm, weren’t you exposing him just a couple of hours ago? what a desperate girl. he swears out as he jerks spurts of come onto his clothed shirt. “yeah, hmph god, yeah, that’s good..” he pants like a dog, eyes going heavy. 

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

another day passes and you haven’t come. guilt swats your hand away everytime you try, anyway. you start to get sick of the syrup and eggs roaming the air. you sit at the same spot from last evening and observe the room.

half of your company is eating breakfast or still passed out on the couch. the others, probably asleep or dealing with tech. your boss walks towards you and places a cup of coffee down in front of you. 

“we oughta work on you, huh? hah!” he stirs wood in his own cup. 

“you’re not hungover? i’m surprised you’re up this early.” 

“gotta stay professional, ya know…i only had one shot. maybe a couple. this coffee’s really good, drink some.”

“right because drinks on the second day of a work-trip is highly professional.”

“hey, come on.” he frowns and drinks a sip of his obviously too hot roast. “where is everybody? hell, where’s kinji?” he drifts off to a new group of people near the snackbar. 

the lobby fills again with the occasional technical difficulty, yet no hakari to be found. you wish you could throw it off and be so disconnected that you didn’t even realize the star wasn’t here like some of your colleagues, but you kept your eyes on that same corridor. the loud bitch from the room on the tallest floor went through your ear and out the other. you didn’t even realize the fly that was constantly buzzing had been trying to get your attention. 

“do you know where kinji is?” she was beautiful but still his assistant, loud and fussy like a bad mom. if she didn’t know where he was, how were you supposed to know? you put on a concerned look with a little smile, “might be in his room.” you get up and begin walking to the hallway, how the hell did they not check his fucking room? you swear your eyes roll so far to the back of your head, that if you didn’t have ears to hear the bitch’s loud heels clacking, you could’ve seen her behind you. you turn to the last door on the right and knock, remembering how many men had to carry luggage upon luggage inside. 

“hello? mister, we’re waiting on you.” you knock faster than time. “hakari?” the door swings open and your hand is met with another. before you can say anything, he shushes you and looks around, pulling you into his room and says, “give me a’minute. take a seat.” he leaves. by seat he probably refers to his bed, the entire room cluttered by stuff. you sit on the edge of his bed and sigh, taking a moment to collect what just happened.  

he was shirtless. the bathroom door being open and light on explains why, he’d taken a shower. the mirror was still foggy and the towel hung on the door’s hanger. there was a faint smell of vanilla and something floral. you would’ve been pissed to be in a messy room like this but you figured it was better than being out with everybody else. 

the door opens again and a calm hakari walks in, closing the door and locking it. 

his hair is damp but you only notice how he’s clothed in a towel. one that hangs low at his hips. 

“everybody’s waiting, and you’re not even dressed yet.” 

“s’fine, y/n. i bought us some time. these people, they’ll listen to whatever i say.” he says with a smile, and you look back at him with confusion.

“but the interview…?” your mouth drops gently when his hand comes to hold your face. 

he sighs and looks up and away. your legs are shut and you swallow the sudden pool of saliva in your mouth as your eyes are fixated on his sharp, shaved jawline and how his adam’s apple flexes as he speaks. “this job’s real tough, i know it is, ‘nd you want a break. doesn’t everyone?” he looks back down at you, his eyes filled with what seems to be.. lust? you furrow your eyebrows and nod slowly. he carefully puts some hair behind your ear and leans down to whisper against your skin, “w’na be a good girl and take some of that stress away from the both of us?” he kisses a part of your jaw, “my good girl?” 

oh god. 

did you write half of your career on this greedy man just for him to be licking your ear? leading a hand to your button-up and slowly undoing the pearly clasps? 

his hand now on your bare leg, going up and up your mid-pencil skirt. you feel yourself get dizzy from the thought of him feeling your lacy panties, holding a hand on his strong shoulder, his skin slightly wet. did you wear them on purpose? you can’t think. he stands back up, his hand slithering and rubbing the back of your neck. breathing heavily, you start to undo the rest of your shirt’s buttons. “yeah, there ya go.” he encourages you until your laced bra is exposed. 

he hooks a finger on the side of your panties and tugs them off, you reach under your skirt and tug the other side. he takes both sides and peels away, “mhhm, always liked a matching set.” your skin burns at embarrassment, not from what he said but how wet the middle of your core was and how drenched the crotch of your panties were. 

“a lil’ kissin’ got you this soaked, huh? you want this? ain’t you just sweet, doll.” he throws it to the corner of the bed and hums when you nod. “s’quiet when you’re needy.” hakari pushes two fingers at your lips just when you thought you could finally say something. “open.” he demands gently and grins when you comply. they find their way to the middle of your mouth and you can’t help but suck softly. “mhm that’s good, suck ‘em good. cost about’a milli’ each, heh.” he takes them out and pushes you slowly onto your back, spreading your legs, holding one up with a burly arm. 

“fuck.” is the only thing you manage to let out when he bunches your skirt up to your waist.

“be quiet f’me now.” he spits a glob onto his two fingers and presses them to your clit. you gasp at the content. 

“so wet.” he mumbles.

circling tight, slippery rounds on your aching bud. the guilty friction you’ve been craving finally went through. a sudden warmth and pleasure take over your pelvis. heat rises to your upper body, your hands slightly shaking and your ears burning, god, what were you doing? you watch and feel his dirty mastered hand bring you shame. your entire career faltered just for your fulfillment, the guilt so heavy, it makes you moan out. 

“huuh, mister – shit, i need it.” you speak whispers breathlessly. 

“yeah? you need it, baby?” he brings his focus to your pathetic expression, pushing and curling two fingers into your cunt. you moan out and watch, feel, as his fingers pump in and out of you. his hands are skilled as they break you open little by little. “sweet girl with a needy cunt, must’ve hit the fuckin’ jackpot.” your clit throbbing as you watch him grope himself and ease his own ache through the white towel. 

“c’mon, please sir.” you tap the side of his waist with your heeled foot. 

“patience, girl.” he pulls his fingers out and pats your vulva a few times before pulling your body close to his. his hand finally, finally pulling down the towel. the thing that kept distracting you from nights of sleep now dripping pre just above your heat. he gives himself a couple of strokes, long and heavy as your body begged, driving yourself closer ‘til your ass was almost off the bed. 

“shh shh.” he rubs his wet tip against your folds as you start begging quietly, your slits sloppily kissing. he groans when your cunt flutters, pushing himself into the first tight muscle.

you writhe at the sudden burn, making you mewl ever-so quietly. 

“be a good girl f’me.” he presses a hand on your lower stomach in comfort before moving his hips forward with no intent of stopping until he’s bottomed out. you moan long whines and grind your body down to try and get more, the stretch already burning. “fuck, goddamn it.” the warmth you bring him is unmatched, all he can think about is how hot you feel.

“fuck me – wan’ more.” you clench down and get a moan out of him. his hands hold down onto your plush thighs as he rocks back and forth into you, your folds swallowing him whole everytime. your throat burns at the way you choke out whimpers, drool seeping from the sides of your plump lips. “what’s your company g’na think of you now, hmm? director of the – fuckin’ writing department– their smart girl’s gotta fuck it all up cause she couldn’t resist some cock.” his hips start to fasten and he keeps a tight grip on your legs, your pretty, fucked out, face stays red. “‘s okay, pretty. you ain’t gotta say nothing, jus’ take it like the dumb girl you are and i’ll forget about all the mean little things you said, mhm?” 

“uh-huh.” your head’s spinning from the grinding he’s now doing, the underside of his cock rubbing back and forth and back and forth on the rough spot inside of you. your thighs tremble as you feel yourself getting close. you get louder and hiccup about how good it is.

“ya – yesyesyes please awh fuck,” your hands groping at the back of your neck and the hard nipples of your breast as you arch your back off of the white sheets, “coming – oh god kin’ i’m gonna come, come. thank you thank you…!” the hard waves of heat and fuzziness take up what seems to be your entire body as you cream all over the base of his cock, hakari still pumping himself inside, riding your release out. “god, fuck, baby. stay still.” eagerly, he takes his hard-on out and jerks himself above your mound before coming straight, hot lines of cum onto your stomach. 

he pants, “you wanna talk to me about my morals?”

“jesus fuck. shut the fuck up.” 

[yoru-no-seiiki]

https://www.tumblr.com/yoru-no-seiiki/751614308271718400/hii-so-like-ive-been-starving-for-yandere-eren

def something w/ canon eren! but other than that you can could go as wild as u want! :p

god where do i start?? i’ll mostly write for early seasons eren since i refuse to watch the whole thing until i’m done with season one on my quotev book as a motivator but i’ll add some tidbits that i got from other fanfics. go check it (my book) out btw!! it’s called Walk With Me!! (currently on the next chapter which is around 10k words atm huhu)

as always he’s aged up to 18 during enlistment and massive spoilers for those that don’t know the lore/story yet.

MDNI. DDDNE!!

yandere! eren is a force of absolute willpower. he is obsessive, he is protective, and very much goddamn possessive. he needs you, he needs you to need him too if not moreso. he grew up in a very traditional household and expected to be the provider in the family. the least you could do is have him in your thoughts at all times.

if you want max yandere! potential with him, it’s best to have known him even before armin. be close family friends. maybe your parents worked with his dad since marley and were similarly banished (but not turned into mindless titans).

as children he’d always been protective of you. he’d always stick to you like glue. and because of future him’s influence over grisha and essentially your parents, you were arranged to even sleep in the same bed.

but this sort of backfired in the long run cause you saw him as this annoying brother figure that just wouldn’t stop bothering you.

and one day you just blurt out, tired of the suffocation you felt with your friend, with your parents that vehemently kept pushing you two together, of everything in your life that you couldn’t control.

“i wonder what it’s like beyond the walls.”

i feel like armin would still be the true trigger of eren’s obsession with the outside and freedom (after all, he doesn’t give a shit about yours so why and how would you influence him in that area?), but you probably pushed him in terms of the survey corps.

you were dumb at the time. i mean as a kid, who isn’t? so you announced to literally everyone you knew that you planned to join the military and eventually explore the outside world.

you didn’t really understand the concept of death and all but whatever that was, you still thought it would be better than eren’s basically isolating you from anything that moves.

you dont truly understand death until eren kills those intruders in mikasa’s house right in front of you.

you were supposed to help him, but only stood there frozen in fear.

thankfully mikasa awakened just in time, with eren shouting at her to save you.

speaking of mikasa, her true allegiance/ackerman blood thingy is still with eren in this fic but i headcannon that since his first command was to for her to fight for you she also has the same knee jerk reaction for whenever she perceives you’re being harmed.

in anycase, that day ™️ happens and you all start training.

it had already been obvious since you were teens but eren started looking at you from a different angle. the sexual kind.

your lack of contact with other people due to his influence had made you a bit of a pushover, as such he’d often coerce you into sex or other related acts.

i mean, you had to pity him! he never had the opportunity to explore and act on his urges. mans stayed a virgin til he enlisted and he’s pent up. you try to argue that it’s cause he was so hung up on revenge that he’s bitchless but that only leads to him questioning you if you’ve been seeing other people behind his back.

i mean you two were basically together, why would he see other people? don’t tell him that you’ve been … cheating on him? how could you!

so yeah he does the same thing to mikasa (the manipulation not the sex lol) and forces her to guard the two of you during your ‘trysts’ (which is just him, the inexperienced boy rutting into you and getting off while you stood/laid there uncomfortable silence)in addition to basically shutting down whatever feelings she might have brewing for him (poor mikasa dude)

but surprisingly eren is the most lax to you during this time period. despite the literal r*pe, he basically allowed you to roam around and do whatever for a change. frankly, it was mostly cause he had to catch up in terms of training, but also cause his FREEDOM ideal is the strongest during this phase.

anddd depending on your behavior you might get pimped out. only to those that he can trust though. god even jean got a taste of you because he lost a bet. he promptly beats up the man afterwards though.

if you’re more focused on training and acquiesce to his demands (hormones) however you’ll be enjoying the only three years of your life where eren’s presence wasn’t looming like dread of your death by a titan’s hands.

now i can’t vouch for how accurate i can portray later seasons eren but basically he’s the worst in yan levels at that point.

once he can fully utilize his powers there is literally no escape for you, not even his death, unless you have some sort of power that hides your ass. he’d already prepared for everything from your captivity to how your life will be like after his inevitable demise.

like i said before, he’d be the type to give you an illusion of freedom. he hates the idea of being caged and vice versa. so specifically speaking after his death and the end of the series, you’ll go from being stuck in a remote area to being free but with hundreds of armed guards watching your every move. hell maybe even the whole “town/village/city” you live in will all just be paid actors he had staged. he will never let you move on from him. whether you like it or not, you’re his in life, in death, as he is dying, and beyond that.

[popawritter12]

Hey hey heyyy im back with another request (im the same anon who requested that yandere morgana piece u wrote, absoutely loved it btw ate it up) and i was wondering if you could write some yandere! Hwei x reader? (fanfic or headcanons is up to you!) maybe the reader is an artist as well and they bond over that? Idk man up to you, also love ur takes on characters ur legit one of the best LoL writers ive seen!!

Btw if you dont mind can i be the 🍊 anon? Ive seen other blogs have their emoji anons and i wanna be one so bad fhdbfh

Hope youre having a nice day!!

Author's Notes: Of course 🍊 anon! I would love to <3

I also got tired of making so many headcanons (believe it or not, I have more saved in my drafts), I'm going to write a one-shot. I hope you like it <3. I also appreciate that you like my work. It's especially nice to know that there's someone who enjoys what I do besides me. By the way, I think Hwei is not in the Yandere “tier list” of LoL, so from how I write him and how I see him, I assume that he is a “Normal” type, because his personality reminds me a little of Ayano from Yandere simulator jjjjjjjjjj

Ｏ(≧∇≦)ＯＯ(≧∇≦)ＯＯ(≧∇≦)ＯＯ(≧∇≦)Ｏ

Yandere! Hwei x Fem! reader

Yandere character: Hwei From the videogame/anime/manga/movie/series: League Of Legends Case: Mention of stalking, allegation of theft, robbery and kidnapping. Part: 1 of 1 Warning: Excessive text LOL

Ｏ(≧∇≦)ＯＯ(≧∇≦)ＯＯ(≧∇≦)ＯＯ(≧∇≦)Ｏ

Obedience.

You had heard that word for so long that it was already embedded in your memory. But not in the way most expected.

You hated that word, and for that same reason you almost never hung out with the teachers or students of the temple you went to.

But we are getting ahead of ourselves, we better go to the beginning.

You had been born into a family that had never been close to other nations apart from Ionia, your mother was a strict woman, sometimes bordering on abusive, who always hated temples. Especially religions… Let's say she never had good experiences with it.

And your father, oh your beloved father… He was a saint in every sense of the word. He was kind, a joker… And a smile was always on his face. He had never yelled, in fact even when he was angry, he would just sit in the corner, ignoring everything around him until his mind cooled down.

And, being an only child, your life around them was quite chaotic. While your mother always tried to stay out of her entire family situation—a rather complex issue even for you—your father was the “husband of the house,” so to speak. He was in charge of teaching you both cooking and home care in general, including carpentry and, mainly, the art of home decoration.

He always dreamed of being a great artist, but in his family it was never frowned upon for a man to make the decision to undertake such a complex world of art, because, you know… that's a “women's thing.” But anyway, a lot of things have happened since the last time you talked to your uncles and cousins so… They aren't very important in your life right now.

But do you know that it is important? Where did you study.

Your father insisted a lot on your talent with sculptures and the human form; You really liked making ceramic vases manually, so much so that from the age of 8 you made your first sculpture; It was the strange shape of a dog with small eyes and a giant nose. At the time you barely knew how to paint sculptures, and your father barely knew about sculptures, and the shape of it so… Let's say it looked more like an "alebrije" than a dog with a big nose.

But that was a long time ago, and now the only proof of that memory is the figure on your father's furniture; kept as a beautiful memory.

As time went by your sculptures became more complex; from simple vases for flowers to sculptures with human figures of such a level that, at this point, we could compare them with the statues of Michelangelo.

And your father wanted that talent to be exploited to the fullest. So, after years of arguing with your mother, they both agreed that you should go to the great temple where you would learn about the art.

But there was a small problem, one that was going to haunt you a lot.

You weren't used to how strict that school was.

The first and second day at that school were quite chaotic for you. It wasn't just because it wasn't as you expected, but because everything was very limited.

If you wanted to make art, you had to do it how they wanted, when they asked you to, and how they expected it. However, not only was that not your style, but it seemed like the teachers (especially the principal) always had one eye on you. And only for a few weeks did you endure that strict issue of obedience.

But there was one boy who was particularly kind to you, and he was a young man of always unkempt appearance. His dark circles always stood out on his face, along with his hair that was rarely organized in a linear manner. From the first time he saw you, he felt charmed by the way you expressed yourself; You were good at painting and using magic, but when he saw the ceramic sculptures you made…damn, you really drove him crazy.

But you obviously didn't notice, you were too focused on trying to get along with your surroundings in general that you didn't notice his desperate attempts to get along with you.

However, in the pleasant conversations you had with him, you always saw him as the stereotype of the exemplary boy; someone who dedicated his entire life to his art, to the temple and was admired by everyone for his great talent. You thought he was assured of a great future thanks to his eccentric abilities.

And you, unlike most, learned very well from your mother that you could not let yourself be trampled; especially by anyone you barely knew. So the blood that ran through your veins and the passion for your own art that you kept for so long was slowly being tied to be limited, but with barely strong ropes. It hurt a lot to know that you were in a place that didn't belong to you, it was as if you were a squirrel in the Freljord, or a mouse in a perfume store.

And in the end, when you mentioned all these things to your mother, she didn't take it very well.

—Did you really go through all this while you were in that temple? —She asked, a cigarette between her fingers as she arranged her needles on the table.

You just nodded your head, not looking at your mother at all. The woman, at this, clicked her tongue.

—I knew that those bitches are only good for the basics, they didn't evolve at all —The woman brought the cigarette to her lips, taking a gentle drag —so, do you know something, my child? Send them to hell.

You were used to her bad vocabulary, so much so that at this, you just nodded your head again.

—I know perfectly well that you are not like me, that you want to venture out and learn about “the ways of art” and that I know —The woman moved her free hand in the air, while with the other she only lightly squeezed the cigarette. —, but if you're going to go alone so that that bunch of nuts can do you less, I'm going to get you out even by kicking you in the ass.

Your mother was tough as a chain in the teeth, and you knew that she couldn't last long without making trouble in the temple if there was someone bothering her only daughter. She cared very little if it was a student, a teacher or even the founder of the temple himself —Even though she knows that she died a long time ago— she would go and give her her dose of shit if she messed with the pride of her as a mother.

She advised you to kick their ass if they messed with you, but your father later talked to you about it, advising that you couldn't take all your feelings and thoughts to such an extreme, but that you should think coldly, and not give importance to people that were not to your specific liking, regardless of their social status. You were no less for coming from a family that came from the middle of nowhere.

During your temple walk, you always walked alone, which gave you plenty of time to think about your actions; You had been passive most of the time, however, more than once you let out those classic off-color comments when they already crossed your limit. Words like “Fuck you if you don't like it” or “You're barely able to use colors and you're going to tell me what I have to do?” escaped you in very rare cases.

You entered the less traveled part of the temple, hoping not to encounter those looks that made you uncomfortable. The song of nature resonated in your ears harmoniously, while the sound of the materials inside your bag resonated from time to time.

In the midst of your ramblings, you remembered your lost sculptures, and your forgotten materials; You were not a forgetful pardon, and it seemed strange to you not to find your favorite materials —That were metal, so they were worth a lot of money —, and even though you asked and asked, you couldn't find it anymore, so it depressed you a lot to think that you had lost something that had cost yout parents so much effort, and the mere memory of it caused you to feel that pang in your heart.

Even if your parents said it was nothing that couldn't be fixed, it hurt to know that you had lost one of the most expensive things your parents had cost you to get you.

But it was curious to think what a surprise you would get.

However, you get to hear some noises; without being the whining of baby birds waiting for food or rodents walking in search of food, but rather it resembled the voice of two people talking. You recognized both of their voices, but you thought it wasn't too important to stay there, in fact, you were already planning to go somewhere else when you heard it.

—So that girl, (Name), right?

—Yes, I didn't think you realized that issue.

The second boy's shy voice reminded you of that young man you rarely spoke to, which took you by surprise. Hwei wasn't the type of person to talk bad about someone behind their back, or at least that was the idea you had based on your interactions.

—You don't have to worry, after all it's normal for you to feel attracted to someone —Jhin mentioned, almost in a mocking manner—. So why don't you tell me about her?

You had already noticed the intention behind that interaction, however, after what happened, you thought that maybe you could calm your heart with some sweet words that you weren't meant to hear at that moment.

—Well, she is… incredible —He begins, you hear how the young man sits on a log due to the sound of the hollow wood —, she is beautiful, kind, tender… and her way of expressing her art is so… unique.

You gently leaned your back against the wood, trying not to make any sound. Something in your chest moved abruptly, as if your heart was fluttering like a butterfly in glass.

—I adore her sculptures, I feel that they are the most beautiful thing I have seen —He continues talking, slowly his emotion rose more and more —. I looked sometimes at her work in class or in the room away from her, and they are… beautiful.

—So much so that you had the need to steal them, right?

It was a single sentence, one which echoed in your head for several seconds.

—What are you talking about? —Hwei asks, arranging his hair a little, trying to place several strands behind his ear —. I would never do that.

You didn't hear how Hwei's tone of voice changed, becoming staccato, as his hands clung to his backpack, which he had in his lap.

At this, the other student laughed, almost like a subtle laugh, while his eyes wandered to where your shadow was looming. A mischievous smile forms on his face.

—So, I imagine that the sculptures that are in your room were made by you, right? —He questions, looking subtly into Hwei's eyes—. Or you bought them from her.

Your thoughts slowly formed a thread of the events that had happened. A lump formed in your throat, almost painfully so.

—Or her favorite utensils, she asked me if I had seen them last week, since she had left them near you the last time she saw them —He continued, almost introspectively—, but when I asked you, you only mentioned that you didn't see them that day either.

You shook your head, from the depths of your soul you prayed that it wasn't true, that you didn't have the school prodigy after you in such an extreme way.

—Well, I admit that I have some of her sculptures in my room, but they are the ones that she forgot in class or anywhere! —The pale boy snapped—. And I don't know what you think I did with her utensils, I don't know how to sculpt.

Jhin laughs again, barely audibly now, as if he knew that now he would have to act more vividly.

—And why were they in the box in your room? —Jhin asks him —, it even had remains of dry ceramics. Could it be that they were already used?

Hwei gritted his teeth, while his gaze met Jhin's again.

—That side of you… It's so peculiar. —He smiles —, I thought no one would see it, but you risk being seen in exchange for getting some things from (Name).

Hwei knew that darkness within his soul had awakened since the first day he saw you. And that darkness spread throughout his soul, mind and body, to the point that it seemed to consume all of his heart and mind.

—Your paintings were always warm colors —Jhin changed the subject, the smile disappearing from his face —, they were never about anything specific, but since you met that girl, something changed —He bowed gently in front of Hwei —. If it was about her, you focused on her in a way that made her seem pure, you used colors that highlighted her body or her emotion on her face. But she never looked at anyone —He subtly changed his focus —, she looked at the painter, or she didn't look at anyone, tell me, do you just want her to not look at anyone but you? Do you want her to the point that you don't want her to look at anyone but you?

He remained silent, in such a way that you could feel the weight of the words lingering in the air, causing an almost inexhaustible tension there. It was such that you could no longer hear the song of nature that you longed for so much.

—I won't criticize you, Hwei, you know that I understand better than anyone the dark feeling inside you —Jhin tried to sound empathetic —. And, if you want, I can help you make (Name) yours. I can make her fall in love with you and make that she can never leave you.

The obsessed young man understood how wrong it was to have those thoughts terrifying his mind, but he couldn't stop it, it was a feeling that had already taken root in his heart, and he couldn't tear it out no matter how much he wanted to.

—I can't… —Hwei whispered, his voice breaking —…, I don't want to harm her; She is so nice to me, I don't want to put her through all my feelings.

You heard him sob.

—You're not going to hurt her —Jhin comforts him, a hand running over his cheek —. I know you love her very much, and you notice how others hurt her. But, tell me, don't you think about those people really hurt her? —He subtly wipes away the tear that slipped down her face—. You should take care of those people, you know? So she could express her art as she loves it. Maybe she could even make thousands of statues without anyone to pressure her, and you could “borrow” them for yourself.

You had heard enough, you couldn't stay there for another minute.

However, before you could move, Jhin leaned close to Hwei's ear, his lips close to her loose strands of hair.

—Or you could take it right now, you know? This opportunity is perfect. —Jhin's mischievous smile spreads across his face.

Hwei opened his eyes to her peak, at the same time he heard a rope move abruptly.

And you felt your foot being pulled up, forcing you to hit your face against the ground, causing you to moan in pain.

—Shit. —You whispered, feeling your head spin, a small wound on your head began to make small drops of blood come out.

—That is…? —Hwei whispers, his heart sinking in his chest —(Name)..?

Ｏ(≧∇≦)ＯＯ(≧∇≦)ＯＯ(≧∇≦)ＯＯ(≧∇≦)Ｏ

Today I came wanting to write. I loved how this one-shot turned out, and I hope those who read it do too haha.

I hope to receive more orders if any of you wish, until then, I will be dedicated to my hobbies and my studies.

[badscientist]

author ask tag

tagged by @the-inkwell-variable – thank you! ill take a quick break from editing part 6 to fill this out. this will be filled out with dead meat in mind, for that matter.

What is the main lesson of your story? Why did you choose it?

Tricky to explain. Theres no ‘lesson’ I guess, so much as...know you can never truly go back. Time marches on and you gotta keep moving. You cant undo what youve done, no matter how much you ruminate or try to recapture that spark. You can only grow around it. Yeah. Thats what im going with LOL. Im sure readers have already taken their own lesson or message from it anyway, or will when this thing wraps up, and I think thats cool in its own right. I don’t wanna tell people what they should be taking away from this - I want them to figure that out through the lens with which they view the world.

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding?

Its our world, but adjacent. Dead meat takes place in a North America where the us kind of only exists in name only. I have a Vision for the world in which this all takes place, but it doesn’t immediately impact the events of dead meat to where ive sat down and figured it all out.

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, or help the reader grow as a person?

First half Betsy was just trying to get home. Then she finds out home isn’t exactly safe either. I don’t wanna spoil it for those who arent caught up, though. Dead meat started as like a monster romance story and evolved into this whole other thing entirely (for the better). Mostly im telling a story I think is kinda cool.

How many chapters is your story going to have?

At the time im answering this, dead meat currently has 5 ‘parts’ out, and part 6 is on the verge of release – I don’t write in a chapter format necessarily, because I hate having my thoughts interrupted. Id rather keep a series of congruous events going Together. Anyway its going to have 7 parts, with a bonus 8th part acting as a ‘field guide’ for a species thats prominent in the story.

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

I exclusively write original work at this time – fanfic isn’t of much interest to me unless im really taken with explorations of a particular media, or if im invested in the person writing it, ie, youre a friend of mine and I wanna support your work. I have no intents of formally publishing my work because I resent the idea of an editor or publisher telling me what I can and cant do with my shit, so you can find dead meat on my website.

When did you start writing?

Ive been writing off and on since I was a kid, really. I read and roleplayed a lot in my teens and early twenties and that built up the foundation...i had a really long lull and thought my writing days were even over like right around summer of 2023. I was wrong. Obviously.

Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr? What other writers do you follow?

Just write it, and write what you want. Your audience will find you, especially if youre loud and obnoxious about your work. Also I follow far too many writers to begin to list them all here (and I don’t want this random ass post appearing in their notifs en masse), but I appreciate them all.

[batsplat]

omgg i started following you because i loved your motogp posts and i did not expect to get emotionally attacked about my tennis fave like this. you've lit expressed everything ive felt abt tennis lately like daniil's return game has developed so well these last few years if only his shoulders were still functional he wld be soo unstoppable (i remember like last 2 year-ish when his serve suddenly went to shit and i was like wtf is going on?? but then it turned out his shoulders don' work anymore😭😭😭) ngl i did not expect him to make it to the ao finals this yr at all but then he did and i started getting hope again and then well uk what happened next... (i actually went to bed when he was up 2 sets because i alrdy had premonitions for what was abt to happen and i didnt need that experience twice 😭) anyways i finally quit watching the men's tour reguarly middle of this yr-ish because mostly because my biggest opp started winning big tournanments/slams consistently and i cld not take it anymore (part of why i got into motogp ig, i needed a new thing to fill in the hole)

also ur thing being having to be the chosen one in men's tennis is soo true but i wld argue it cld even be broadened down to being in the chosen generation... every 90s born player doomed to be seen as the weak links of the sport, both forever destined to be surpassed by those who came before and those who came after...

anyways mostly i also just wanted to thank you for writing all your super information motogp posts!! not only is ur writing style super informative/consistent, all the topics u've written abt feel super unique like i doubt i wld ever randomly stumble elsewhere. i'm not that good w/ words so idk how to fully express my appreciation, but your posts are the main reason i started delving into more past motogp races and interviews instead of just sticking to current ones which has 1000% made my experience of becoming a motogp fan more enjoyable!

🥺🥺 such a nice ask from a fellow sufferer... I actually tried to sleep in for the ao final and managed for like. maybe a set. it's so funny to have a whole fanbase quite literally begging their player not to go up two sets to love, zero hindsight needed I was HORRIFIED by that second set going his way... especially since I noticed the balance of play in the actual games had changed and meddy wasn't winning any return points anymore, just relying on an earlier break to seal that set iirc. and then I started going for increasingly desperate tactics to distract myself when the inevitable happened in the next three sets (including rewatching marc marquez: all in, it was rough man, like I get what you're saying about getting into motogp to escape because generally I too have fled to this sport whenever tennis has most been pissing me off)

and obviously that final was very trauma flashbacks to my definitive sports trauma, a match I'm STILL not over and at this rate have accepted I'll be miserable about until the day I die. but this time I couldn't even BLAME him because it was an insane effort to even get to the final, he'd done such a fantastic job given his tennis really wasn't there at the start of the tournament, he just kept figuring out ways to win... the hurkacz match where he basically ran out of fuel in the fourth, that crazy semifinal where he just refused to know when he was beaten, and then taking two sets off sinner in that final!! the resilience and the grit but also the tactical acumen, like my god when he blindsided hurkacz by radically altering his return position RIGHT AFTER doing that post-match back-and-forth with courier where he explained in detail why he favoured his regular return position. the cleverness and the bravery he showed in clutch points in that semi, something that zverev is completely incapable of (monte carlo 2023 still lives rent free lol), like the psychology of that match slapped. how he took it so sinner, completely caught him off guard by mixing up his game, and it was WORKING. really managed to change the dynamic of that match up... he lost that match first and foremost in his legs. just so cruel after everything. we had the guy who easily disposed of an admittedly rubbish djokovic in the semis on the ropes. and it still. was. not. fucking. enough. one of the best slam final runs in recent memory and it still wasn't enough!! he's already far outperformed what he SHOULD have been capable of in his career and somehow he keeps developing a game style which should have plateaued ages ago and I have so much respect for the work him and gilles have done post-2022... and he really should have more to show for it

anyway yeah I remember the serve decline in 2022, back when I was really in the weeds with analysing meddy's game. and that was also the year it felt like his legs completely deserted him. his deciding set record that year was horrific after ao, very rarely even got it that far win or lose and when he did so almost always lost (karatsev was cramping, let's not talk about the other third set win)

scorelines from the tour finals genuine miracle i did not throw myself into the sea

only one four set match post-ao and he also lost that, incidentally. and obviously that was partly because his brain was fucked, BUT I also wondered whether it was the aftereffects of the hernia operation that year affecting both the physicality and the serve. and I can't remember if he confirmed that anywhere but the theory's certainly cottoned on to help explain the serve decline, even if his endurance obviously has massively improved again. and then add in the shoulder... it's so brutal because it used to be such a key pillar to his game, like the whole magic was tied together by being able to whizz through his own service games while making his opponent's return games hellish

and like,, the thing I really admire about him is that there was a period in 2022 where it did feel like he'd been 'figured out', like there was increasingly a game plan that could be used against him. serve and volley, etc etc. but to some extent, he's managed to resist just being written off when facing elite competition BECAUSE he keeps coming up with ways to throw his opponents off-balance. what he's been doing this year, for all that it hasn't gotten him great results, has been so much fun to watch - really reminded me of his summer/autumn 2019 stretch where he'd played so much he should've constantly been at risk of keeling over of exhaustion but adapted to it by just becoming a completely different player. wawrinka uso 2019 match still goes crazyyyy, one of his most underrated performances. serve and volley in the uso 2019 final I wanna run to u. it's such a wonderfully unique game that's frankensteining all these unique parts together that all sort of shouldn't work but all sort of do, harnessed and constantly reinvented by (let's face it) the smartest top player currently in the game. and it really does piss me off that he hasn't been rewarded more. he's been the best of the rest since 2019, he's absolutely maximised his game for someone who doesn't have that stratospheric big three-level of talent and I WANT it to actually matter. but men's tennis will always see talent triumphing over guile I fear, and meddy has consistently been a victim of poor timing

and yeah, the generational aspect is true, where the entire ''''''''nextgen''''''''' cohort has essentially been doomed - partly because they just weren't good enough, but partly because they arrived at just the right time window to still be thoroughly traumatised by the big three without getting any kind of a break before the next super talents showed up. until 2022 I really did naively believe we were getting a chaos era of SOME kind until that decrepit spanish ghoul showed up in australia to trample all over my soul and give me depression, and then immediately another bloody spaniard started going at it. how can you not be a little bit bitter that alcaraz got to swan to his first slam title without having to face a single member of the big three? idk man like sometimes it really is the magic of sports that the anointed few don't just have talent on their side, they are also fantastically lucky. you see it with how the big three all secured their first slams... things just seem to work out somehow. infuriating and existentially horrifying

anyway. lol. as you can see I do always have a tennis rant in me. will always be a major part of my life, obviously something I have a far far better understanding of than any other sport, still keep up with the women's game fairly closely... where icl it helps that the players I'm most invested in have dropped off SO badly this year, partly due to injury, that I can merrily ignore their existence. plus, and this bit is crucial, I don't loathe the players who actually win things. so I'm in a happy place where I just enjoy the sport and (if anything) want Certain top players to do better than they currently are... but also don't lose any sleep over the results. like, have I been massively frustrated with iga this year? yes, but it's also not made me stare at a wall for five hours. also, it's just been a way better product than this predictable basher servebot shit from the men. women's wimbledon semi day THE best tennis day of the year, prove me wrong. they've had actual classic matches, which the men have been noticeably short on. just sort of been an odd season for the men, with djokovic shrivelling and alcaraz patchy outside of two slams and sinner doing his whole 'I'm not a cardboard cut out I'm a REAL boy' routine on his way to fifty hard court titles and everyone else irrelevant. as I've already said... it's fine. whatever. hope the sport enjoys fifty thousand alcaraz/sinner slam wins as the earth keeps turning around the sun and eventually we all turn to dust. it's fine

and seriously, thank you for everything in the ask... always happy to hear I've made someone's fan experience like. better. and that I add something a little bit different to the mix lol, also literally no compliment I like to read more than anything to do with my actual writing. because this ask was so lovely, here's my personal favourite moment as a tennis fan this year:

still think that australian open title should be restored to us

[dylansanders]

Ok, I have I ton of questions I gotta know the answer to, so I guess you can view this as an interview!

2. Which of your fics is your pride and joy?

18. How many WIPs do you have, and how many do you expect to finish?

20. Share your favorite kiss scene from any any of your three pilot fics :))

23. What's a story you'd love to write but haven't even started yet?

24. Which scenes/themes were the inspiration for memories of who I was before and raspberry amphetamines?

27. Are any of your stories inspired by personal experience? 👀 (raspberry amphetamines /lh)

28. What's the angstiest idea you've ever come up with?

And 32 and 33. A character you enjoy making suffer and a character you want to protect (somehow I get the feeling I know the answer and it's the same one for both.)

2. Which of your fics is your pride and joy?

-is it a cop out to say all of them? 😭 raspberry amphetamines is my only FINISHED story so far so it’s a little difficult to label one as my pride and joy when two are still in progress but memories i think has gotta be my favorite. it was my first tøp fic so it’s always gonna have a special place in my heart. plus, clancy/torchbearer holds such a grip on me, i love writing them so much. clancys character is so universal and you really can portray the trauma his character has in so many ways, im really pleased with where it’s headed and proud of what ive put out so far. i’m hoping people are liking it :)

18. How many WIPs do you have, and how many do you expect to finish?

-memories and it’s colder are still WIPs, and i actually only have one other right now that isn’t published. it doesn’t have a name yet but the pinterest board for it is named after a blue october song! basically tyler is a serial killer and has josh in his basement, but his routine starts to go wrong when he realizes josh is developing stockholm syndrome and there’s kind of a folie à deux situation. i have about 6k words written so far but i expect it to run around maybe 20/30k so it’s got a bit to go. i’m very focused on my two current ones though!

20. Share your favorite kiss scene from any any of your three pilot fics :))

-this would have been much easier before the last chapter of memories! bc they JUST kissed at the end of it (spoilers if anyone cares sorry 😂) but i think it’s gotta probably be the kiss in raspberry amphetamines where josh uses his tongue to mama-bird tyler a tab of molly lmao

23. What's a story you'd love to write but haven't even started yet?

-i think a ghost hunting au would be really cool, maybe around halloween i’ll get into the spirit (haha) for it! i also might play around with a mob boss/hired criminal au bc ive done that for ghostbusters a few years ago and actually LOVED it.

24. Which scenes/themes were the inspiration for memories of who I was before and raspberry amphetamines?

-memories was kind of a weird one for me to start with. i knew in my head where i wanted it to get to but i had a hard time starting it. i had the visual of a mute, terrified clancy having to figure out how to live again after dema and a torchbearer who was just trying to figure him out. the pair of torch and clancy is so complex to me that i just needed to start writing it down to get the words out so that’s what i did!

-raspberry amphetamines actually came to me super easily. i love anything with oral fixations and was really into spit that week (is that gross? sorry lol) so tyler’s whole thing with the glowstick was easy peasy. i was also just in kind of a down spot mentally and was thinking about dr!gs a lot so it was a weird spiral of being super horny and super into like, the visuals of a fucked up rave. in my head, it started with them dancing and swallowing pills together and unraveled from that.

27. Are any of your stories inspired by personal experience? 👀 (raspberry amphetamines /lh)

-unfortunately i’ve never been a rave kid bc i have crippling social anxiety so that part is not a life experience ive had 😂 but i do dabble with dr!gs and have had,,, public relations,,, so that part is fair game lol

28. What's the angstiest idea you've ever come up with?

-oh god uh??? it’s colder, although it is an inspired by fic, has a lot of my own twist on it. basically the first chapter is tyler’s inner thoughts after he’s kicked out from his house and walks essentially knowingly to his death, and a lot of that inner monologue stuff is probably the angstiest i’ve been. in written record at least lol.

And 32 and 33. A character you enjoy making suffer and a character you want to protect (somehow I get the feeling I know the answer and it's the same one for both.)

-boy if you ain’t heard about this motherfucker tyler joseph? this poor boy is VERSATILE. cover him with bandaids and blankets but also beat him to a pulp and leave him for dead. i might need to see a therapist. (in other words it’s tyler/clancy from my memories fic lol)

[transnightfury]

👁️, 💭, and ⚡ for both shadow and riptide :3

☔ for shadow

🐸 for riptide

bonus: ⚔️ and ❗for harley!

YAAYYY!!!ALSO HARLEYMENTION YES

this is gonna be a long post bc i yap so ill put it under a cut. get ready for me not directly answereing questions at all everybodys favourite

👁️(how do people perceive your oc?) tbh .. i dont know? i have had someone think that riptide was gonna be some chill surfer dude and shadow be a stereotypical aloof emo boy LOL which i can totally see that. riptide is like 2 steps away from being a chill surfer dude...idk if that fits him as a hobby tho. in some alternate universe this is how they ended up being ACTUALLY. SHADOW WAS SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE THAT !!!!!!!!!!!! but now shes the total opposite except shes still an emo boy

💭(How is their mental health? Do they struggle with guilt or shame?) im copy pasting these now bc im too lazy to write them out LMAO . hmmm. generally deepseaship r in that stage now wehre theyre Getting better. they r in a place where they feel safe and can be themselves and have good people around them they can trust so they dont struggle as much as they used to... shadow definitely out of the two of them i imagine would feel alot of guilt? she has a bad habit of being angry/lashes out easily and overprotective and maybe a bit impulsive and its lead to a few hiccups in their relationship.....shes very emotional so the guilt over those things she does and says get to her alot ..... ive been tryong to figure out how to rewrite their entire backstories recently so i can make those problems they have more obvious but ive been stuck cos its really hard to redo everything when they are So Deepseaship to me 🤷‍♂️

⚡(Does this oc have any unusual or “irrational” fears?) riptide is TERRIFIED OF BUGS. maybe its not unsual but i think its really funny. he tries to avoid killign them as much as possible and he makes shadow cup and paper them. and he hates thunderstorms. which i know. thats really funny bc its me. and he used to be one of my fursonas. for shadow?? im like sure she has at least one but i cannot think of any rn.

☔(How does this oc feel about rain?) SHE LOVES IT!!! and she loves thunderstorms lol so it balances it out between him and riptide. very important to mention that riptide is obsessed with rain but he hates the sound of thunder. i mean its water. from the sky. sorry i started talking about riptide this is about shadow....LOL.....shadow is the type to just stay inside and enjoy the weather like a normal person and then riptide is insane like me and goes out shirtless in the rain

🐸(What’s this oc’s sense of humor like?) fart and penis and poop

⚔️(How does this oc handle conflict?) unfortunately. i. have no idea? harley is still a pretty underdeveloped character in alot of places... her backstory is really only the building blocks right now and i havent really dug into how its effected her/how she handles anything like that in general .....IM SORRY.....

❗(What are the highest priorities to this oc (at a point in their life of your choosing)?) again . a question id need to flesh her out more abit over. i would just say something related to her and lucy or cross current but i dunno.. id like to answer with something more personal to her. she isnt selfish at all realy but she. hm. how do i put this. its on the tip of my tongue. she would 1000% do anything for her friedns and shes extremely caring about them but she would focus on herself before anything else (unless theres more important things to look out for). i totally know theres an easier probably one word description for that but thats how im explaining it rn LOL. i guess shes just confident about herself? is that what im trying to say ?? not quite the question but i hope that answers it enough FJNKSDF whatever her highest priority is, it would be personal towards herself, rather than me just saying "the other people in her life" obviously she wants to care for them and shes probably one of my most caring/overprotective ocs i can think of skjshdmddj

[umbracirrus]

hi there! fellow skyrim fan here, i'm making my own skyrim oc story soon and ive always really liked how you characterize the npc's was just curious if you had any particular notes on how you might theoretically write farkas? the companions are tragically underdeveloped personality wise after the questline and it doesn't leave alot to work with. ty!

Ahhhh, thank you-!!! ^-^

Now, hm... If I were to write Farkas, I feel he's really friendly and kind! In-game he gets all friendly with you really quickly I find, he doesn't judge you for if you don't/are unable kill the giant unless you accidentally hit him with an arrow when trying to help because that's another story and ends with you being chased by him, Aela, and Ria all aggroed which may or may not have been something I've done on occasion, he's just straight away saying 'you look strong :)'

But I also feel that he's got a strong sense of morality. Like if he could help someone, he would - it's honourable to help out!! And he knows what he thinks is bad, and sticks with it. With the exception of his thoughts about being a werewolf because it seems to be very much of a middle ground to him - I think he says that he likes what he can do as a werewolf, but also takes into account the thoughts of the likes of Kodlak and Vilkas who aren't as keen on being one.

And following on from that last point, he's quite thoughtful too. Another time he does it is when he turns into a werewolf for the first time in front of you. He says that he hopes he didn't scare you-!! can you tell I've got his UESP page open to figure things out? lol

He's also smarter than people give him credit for, it is just that he prefers action - though there are times where he uses his smarts for good. Again, that first transformation - he weighs up between keeping the Circle's secret (not that the Silver Hand likely helped there) and keeping the two of you alive, and chooses the latter because it was possible that he could have been overwhelmed through sheer numbers without your help, and turning into a werewolf could have been the difference between life and death. Or at least I feel that could be his reasoning in those few seconds which he had to think of what to do.

In addition to that, there was when there was the conversation after Kodlak's death that happens in the Underforge. Farkas is silent almost the entire time, simply taking in the conversation which is happening between Aela and Vilkas. The only time which he speaks in that entire conversation is when there was mention of Kodlak being avenged - he knows that it isn't right, so responds with 'Kodlak didn't care for vengeance', which kind of ties in with his thoughtfulness too, honouring Kodlak's beliefs even after death.

Of course, he definitely has his moments where you can somewhat understand the nickname of 'Ice-Brain'.

And of course he's strong :) Again with the whole preferring action over words, and it's his response when asked about the civil war which conveys it the best I feel - "Too confusing for me. Empire, Nords, Talos. Who cares? Just tell me who needs bludgeoning." And he is so real for that.

Also after a conversation with @hircines-hunter before, we both bet he also gives the best hugs in Jorrvaskr. He's a big, friendly, cuddly guy :) Those arms are big for a reason-!!!

So. Uhhh. Sorry this is long and rambling but it's probably what I'd consider if I were to write Farkas? And heavy use of his UESP page/Skyrim script when trying to figure out how he'd talk lol.

[thequibblah]

so excited for flowers and thorns!! absolutely loved how your prose adapted to the universe and really put you in that old-timey, asoiaf feeling. james and lily are GREAT i can’t wait to see where their unwilling attraction takes them lmao.

also, side note, if you don’t like html formatting, why don’t you use rich text (and then just fix the annoying italics space it does when you reread)? i find it easier, but maybe you have a preference!

THANK YOU! i have been rereading dunkegg/relistening to the main series to get the vibe right haha. going to have to squeeze in a “naked as their nameday” mention somewhere… i especially love the big cast of it all because we all know i adore a random secondary character, and (spoiler alert) ive squeezed many into this one because there’s going to be time jumps between chapters!

re: rich text, that’s my preference actually but i write in scrivener and it doesn’t copy formatting when i paste directly from it into rich text on ao3. not a me problem, scriv users have worked out many a workaround. i used one last night that compiled my doc into a .rtf file, which was fine except that it parsed line breaks as br rather than p so it was one ugly text block, which I belieeeeve is because i don’t use two hard returns to get to the next para in scriv, i just use a first line indent. which is way more info than you asked for lol but what i was coding ln was really just replacing all the br’s with p (and i just noticed that I missed one 😭)

anyway, this is mostly because it’s been like 6 months since i last posted anything and i’ve since remembered i had my own workaround (export to word doc then paste in google doc THEN copy to ao3 rich text lmfao) so i might switch back to that. or do some digging to figure out how to get my scrivener compile format to include my para breaks since that’s way less work for me and surely there’s a way.

[freshrained]

BOY WITHOUT A CAR / A.I

Requested; no, but requests are open!

Pair; Ashton x reader

Note; first longer writing that im posting to Tumblr, and its sort of an au, based in 2013/2014. this has been sitting in my drafts for almost two years and it just needs to be posted lol, please be kind & i would love any type of feedback. more to come

Prompt; somewhat based off of boy without a car by the vamps

Word count; 1k

———

He sat there under the tree just glancing at her while trying to remember the rhythms he had to know for band practice later.

It was his typical spot, usually to just watch her with her friends. Everyday he'd come to the same tree in the courtyard of school. Most of the time it was a way for him to get away from his friends that were pissing him off, but he just wanted to see her, other than at 3AM.

He knew her, but she didn’t talk to him while they were at school, or public in general. He understood though, she was popular and he wasn’t. He was just in a lame band and he didn’t quite have himself figured out.

His fingers had stopped moving and he realized that he was staring at her, when she glared back he knew he had to leave. He just wanted to talk to her, tell her how he felt, but he knew she wouldn’t feel the same way about him.

hey pretty face, I need to tell you something xx

He sent it as soon as he was out of her sight. He couldn’t get over her, and the fact that he knew she didn’t even care about the ‘friends’ she was with, even if she never really got close with them.

Ashton knew she didn’t get close to anyone, but he was an exception, and he still didn’t understand the girl.

“Bro you’re late. Again,” Calum muttered, confused to who he had been texting, and he used to never be late to a band practice.

“I know, just kinda got caught up at school,” Ashton didn’t even think twice about his answer and avoided eye contact with the dark haired boy.

“Ash, come on that’s been your excuse for the last week, what the hell is going on?” Calum quirked a brow, not putting up with his bullshit.

“Calum, I’m serious, school has been kicking my ass and I’ve been trying to learn new songs, promise it won’t happen again,” he looked up at Calum, defeated because he didn’t want Calum to be disappointed in him.

“Just fucking play the songs,” Calum spat, hoping Ashton would spill at some point what he was actually doing.

“Stop being such a fucking asshole, Calum,” Luke glared at him, being the only person to know what Ashton was dealing with, he knew Ashton was being lead on, he knew Ashton was gonna get hurt at some point. He tried to tell Ashton and he wouldn’t listen.

“Guys its fine, he’s right, I’ve been late recently, I’ll step it up,” Ashton mumbled while sitting on the drum stool, hoping they would just drop the subject.

“How do we expect him to be on time when he doesn’t have a car and rides a bike?” Michael spoke up, trying to help Ashton out, even though he didn’t really know what was happening.

———

Once band practice was over, Ashton didn’t even know what to do. He still had 4 hours until he could go and meet her, so he decided to keep texting her and he knew it was a bad idea.

You know, ive never met a girl like you

Im glad i did though

Because you always have me wanting more

She never responded to him, but it was normal. He’d text her, she wouldn’t respond and they would still end up meeting at 3AM anyways. It was always at the park, and even though she didn’t wanna be seen with him, she went with it, and has kept with it.

3:01AM

“Ash you’re late,” she faintly smiled, hoping he would sit next to her.

“I know, just kind of confused because you still show up, and still meet me here. And I know you don’t get close to anyone. I’m just wondering how we got this far I guess,” he rambled taking the seat next to her. Ashton was so caught up in looking at her, he didn’t even realize she was speaking to him.

“I don’t know, you’re just easy to talk to I guess, you understand me, trust me I’m surprised we still meet every night too,” she hoped she didn’t lead him on because it was all fun in the beginning until she caught feelings for the boy she couldn’t be seen with.

“Don’t quite understand how this happened though, like I’m just a boy without a car, you have a car, you have guys lined up with cars that want to date you.  I ride my bike everywhere, and that’s no way to get around. like girls like you don’t talk to guys like me. and it’s so easy to talk to you, like I literally pour my heart and soul out to you and you don’t ever judge me, I just wish you felt the same way about me,” the last part he whispered, hoping she didn’t catch it.

“Fuck Ashton, if you had any idea about the way I felt about you, you wouldn’t be left high and dry all of the time,” she looked up at him, thankful something was finally being done about it.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He was confused, especially because she felt the same way towards him, even if she ignored him at school and wouldn’t ever respond to his messages.

“If it hasn’t been obvious this whole time, I like you, and I love talking to you, I know I might not be good at showing that, but if you wouldn’t be a dumb boy for 2 seconds you would know I like you back and would of interacted with you more,” she was messing with the hole in her jeans, becoming more nervous by the second because she really did like him and wished she hadn’t treated him the way that she did.

“y’know, you’re like rain, I love to drown myself in it,” Ashton smiled, glad his feelings finally got across to her.

“Glad to say that I feel the same way,”  she smiled, thankful for all of the times they met up to talk at 3AM.

[petertingle-yipyip]

okay bestie I have an actual question for you about writing, because I always just have so many ideas but don't know where to start/never complete them. so like how do you start do you plot everything out and then start writing or are you writing and figure it out during? and like how do you keep motivated writing every chapter? omg and what do you do when something you had in mind doesn't work out with the plot? help pls

hi bestie!! i talk a lot so imma put a break for others to scroll past lol

so, ideas. inspiration. motivation. plot. it comes and goes. movies, music, random quotes, plot ideas/requests come from like anywhere for me. what i tend to do is name the project, write a basic summary and what character it’s for, and see what happens. i don’t force myself to finish any one project (hence the abandoned SOUR miniseries and recently revisited sin miedo). that’s in part why WCS and MAG have been such long running sagas here, bc i don’t force myself to write anymore.

when i did, i produced content that i didn’t love. i was posting stories that i wasn’t confident in and that i read and am embarrassed to have put that out.

typically, it starts with a bit of dialogue that comes to me in the shower or when i’m daydreaming at work. from there, i kinda work backwards. how’d they get to that conversation? what are the implications? what’s the setting? what do they know? all that world building fills itself in and sometimes i pick stuff for the fun of it.

when something doesn’t work, i change something. for example, mag s1 has some stuff that doesn’t match the canon timeline bc one, i didn’t plan on extending the series so far so i was nitpicking what i wanted and two i didn’t have the episodes in front of me bc i wasn’t planning a whole canon journey. i took out some relationships (matt x claire for example) bc it didn’t serve my plot.

i’ve also rewritten plots bc i just didn’t like them. i have a project where the reader is matt’s gf and is meeting foggy/karen but matt has the idea for a game where they just flirt with each other till his friends figure it out. initially i had it to where foggy starts flirting with her and introduces her and she plays along till matt gets too jealous but i didn’t like the way it was turning out. so i scrapped it and started over.

a big part of writing, in my opinion, is drafts and edits. ultimately, whatever your writing, it’s your universe. it’s your project. if something isn’t working, you are well within your rights to change it. it’s not canon until you post it so rewrite it as many times as you have to. no one said you have to immediately post what you write. it’s a little different with mag since i’ve established her entire dd canon and hinted her punisher canon so i have to fill the gaps of what ive already made so i have to keep referencing what ive posted to make sure she’s consistent but that’s it own thing.

lastly, let’s talk motivation. girly pop, it’s gonna come and go. i take so many breaks in posting or writing just bc im at a part that i don’t wanna write but i have to for plot purposes. sometimes i hate the exposition of a piece but i just wanna do the actual important scenes. so i lag and avoid it until im like ‘yknow what, let’s just do it’ and this is where the edits and drafts come in. usually, it’s just a ‘let’s throw some words on the page and come back to it’ situation. sometimes i rewrite all of it, sometimes i don’t, other times it’s just a few edits here or there.

the base of writing as i understand it is trusting yourself and your ideas. some stuff is gonna take off, like woman, others will fall flat like dirty thoughts (i think that’s what i called it, a marc spector piece). it’s also your blog so as long as it feels genuine to you and your abilities, go for it :)

[chaoxfix]

✨ and 🌈!

✨What's a fic you've posted you wish you could breathe life into again and have people talking about it? (or simply a fic you wish got more credit)

oop! just answered this in the other one! <3 though i'll also through my one sonic & / mighty fic in the ring haha. i have a 5+1 fic for them that has been 75% written for forever but so few people really like sonighty that i really drag my feet about finishing it lol

🌈is there a fic that you worked *really fucking hard on* that no one would ever know? maybe a scene/theme you struggled with?

ohhhh... hmmm...

i had to rewrite sections of the big & tails fic SO many times. there were segments that were completely scrapped and redone. and the ending was actually only tacked one right about when i was ready to post -- i realized that it felt unfinished, found a theme i'd been bringing up a lot but never gave resolution (the metal house has a wooden part to it, after all) and so i added that super last minute.

the fics i struggle the most with are the ones i havent posted yet haha. youd be shocked at the amount of fics that have a lot of *words* that i just can't figure out how to craft into a *story.* simple, 3K conversations can still be stories, after all -- and i have a lot of those. but sometimes there are themes begging to be explored that i just cant quite pull together without a lot more work. there's one ive written a lot of for amy + tails in a groundhog day type loop, but wow does that one need so many more scenes that i dont want to write haha.

thanks so much for asking! <3

[hollywoodsargeant]

i am STILL not caught up on boyish (I'm reading right now!! i'm trying!!) but a thought ive had abt boyish that i really wanted to share--especially in the political climate of lgbt censorship for children, i feel like the narrative of boyish shows EXACTLY why kids seeing lgbt representation is so important. ofc i know you're writing it that way bc a) it adds more plot and b) it /is/ fucking florida. but i keep reading and thinking oh my god if they just KNEW from the jump that this was a fucking option if there were gay ppl in their lives or in the media they consumed this all could've been so less messy and easier for the both of them.

anyway really fucking enjoying it you've been writing faster than i can read but i'm very excited to catch up xoxo

thank you!! <3 i am writing so quickly bc my current life status is i have no fucking life. so. what to do if not write thousands of words of loscar question mark

ANYWAYS. yeah </3 part of why i'm writing it like that too is like. to an extent i am writing boyish from experience. like no i was never a teenage boy unknowingly in love with my neighbor who i've known since 4 years old but i did grow up (at least a little bit, i'm still pretty young all things considered lol) so some of their thoughts and stuff definitely come from thoughts i had when i was younger. namely everything about logan and dalton and the whole "talking in the middle of the night in your shared bedroom has no rules" like i have so much to say about how specific i think sibling relationships are so that's. definitely projecting

so it's in that vein for. well. Everything. i did figure things out differently to how i'm writing them figuring it out but when i say boyish is at least a part of my heart and soul i do mean that <3

[rigelmejo]

Some updates 9/4/2024:

I am through 2723 sentences in glossika japanese, which is still A1 (in the app). In reality I think the A1-B2 categories glossika is using must not match the actual kind of level's vocab or grammar. I predict A2 will go to arond the 5000 sentences mark, and the last 1000-2000 sentences in the glossika japanese collection will be randomly categorized B level. Supposedly glossika japanese teaches 5000 unique words, I hope that's true by the end. So far the A1 sentences Ive gone through (2700s lol) have a lot of words just used multiple ways or in multiple conjugations, and if iku counts as like 10+ words just for each conjugation... that could mean significantly less unique words are actually taught. If glossika japanese doesnt at least teach over 3000 unique words (and all verbs etc counted as 1 word each even if various forms are in sentences), then its gonna be beyond a disappointment. Its fairly doable to find free japanese learning resources that teach around 2000-3000 words. The reason Im slogging through glossika is because it gives the promise of potentially MORE WORDS TO LEARN than the free stuff i could find. Like... japaneseaudiolessons.com, a free site with great lessons, teaches at least 2000 words (i calculated it once ;-; if needed ill go figure it out again) if the grammar notes are included. So if glossika turns out barely more than that, ill be pretty fucking beyond annoyed.

In other news, japanese progress? Ahahahhaa

Well really. I've mostly just been focusing on writing stuff lately, so I haven't studied much. But I've noticed some things in passing I find kind of fun?

I can now translate (roughly) 70% of the lyrics of the Yakuza games karaoke songs in passing as a friend plays them. I can also translate (roughly) about 50% of what people are saying in-game. I assume this means if I tried to play Ishin in japanese again, this time I might feel less drained than the first time I tried. (The first time I tried, I understood enough to play the game and roughly guess what was going on, but it took a ton of focus and I felt burned out quick).

Chinese progress? Im in a weird holding pattern where I just dont have time in my schedule to dedicate enough to it to make good progress for a while. I definitely refreshed my memory over the summer, and I can listen to audiobooks now! Which is a huge personal goal I had. But the comprehension of audiobook plots goes between "can follow almost all details" to "roughly can guess where the scene is and actions taken and understood some key dialogue details". Even if I relisten to the same chapter of an audiobook just on different weeks. My comprehension of audio details varies WILDLY right now. Im not sure if its because my vocab recognition is just rusty until used, then rusty again quickly after a break (aka i recall meaning slower than the audio plays). Or if its because listening is just hard. Since i am comprehending something when i listen, ive just chosen to keep listening to audiobooks. I do think a good round of REVIEWING vocabulary (like relistening to chinese spoonfed anki audio files) would help. Or just listening to an audiobook for HOURS a day would probably help. But again, im focusing on writing lately so i just havent carved out dedicated time for chinese listening that id like to be doing eventually.

Reading chinese goes a bit differently. I am rusty with reading too, but it comes back within a few dozen minutes. My recognition of hanzi is sort of like "rusty when not recalled" but once im reading for a few minutes it goes back to an easy to flip to part of my brain and stuff i already know. When trying to read japanese in any context, my brain still jumps right to hanzi chinese pronunciations before i can recall any japanese words. When i see a chinese webpage or subtitles im lost for a little while, then things click and its about as easy as it was last time i was reading a lot. I seem to remember how to read chinese fairly well, and rustiness wears off and goes back to Quick Reading comprehension (which quick for me is still like 150 characters per minute but u get the idea) fairly quickly. Its even a little better than my french reading skill... which does degrade a little over time, and i compensate with cognates usually until ive read for a few hours and the french reading skill returns. Whereas my chinese reading skill seems to come back within an hour usually of trying to read.

[jakowskis]

Loved ‘an ugly picture, you & me’ so so much. Srsly I read it like 10 times and still won’t get tired of it. It’s such a great piece of writing. Now my question: Do you already if ur gonna post more Torchwood fanfic?? (no pressure obv, writing is so so hard and I admire everyone who actually manages to finish their stories).

oh my goodness thank you so much 🥺 that means the world to me im so glad you liked it so much

man ok so. heres the thing. djkfds aaa idek how to talk abt this it makes me feel stupid fdshkfj. basically i have dx'd ocd and it affects my writing process a Lot. im exceptionally critical n perfectionistic when it comes to my writing, and when my ocd's at its worse, i can reread things literally hundreds of times. this makes my editing process a fucking nightmare. an ugly picture was... a Journey, i wrote the bulk of it in like a month or two bc i was Inspired, and that period of inspiration just flowing was super nice - but then i spent literally half a year obsessing over editing and figuring out a few sections i couldnt get to work and it was. rlly rlly unhealthy and messy. like that was a stereotypical Mentally Ill Artist™ moment for me 😭 i was unmedicated during that process and honestly im still impressed with myself for managing to finish and post it anyway.

and after posting it... this might not make sense unless u have ocd but that fic is, like, tainted in my head, and im not allowed to touch it as a result. which is RLLY fucking annoying and sad bc i wrote it for Me and it was a labor of love yanno, and i am proud of it, like during writing i was like 'man this is one of the best things ive written, im genuinely proud of this' and ive gotten some absolutely wonderful reception - but i cant exactly place why, idk if it was the torment of the editing process or a fear of experiencing that specific brand of anxiety again (if i reread it and run into errors it might kill me 😭)... either way at this point in time im legitimately unable to revisit that fic. and its been like this since i posted it, so... for nearly five months ;-; and im kind of having a similar experience with torchwood as a whole tbh. like my whole fandom experience + relationship with this fixation has been bastardized to all hell bc of ocd issues. it all feels very... dirty right now.

which fucking sucks, cuz torchwood's one of my fav fixations ive ever had, it became so important to me so fast and it's probably hit special interest territory at this point - but it sucks what a thin line it is between obsessing over a hyperfixation, and compulsively engaging with something. it sucks when the serotonin u get from smth also gets laced with pervasive anxiety. my recent main issue with ocd has been avoidance - i went from obsessively going thru torchwood clips to being unable to watch it at all bc the very thought of doing so makes me so anxious.

(so, tldr? my mental illness garbage is interfering w my interests and my ability to engage with fandom, to my chagrin, and that's why i haven't posted anything else.)

that being said: between april 2023 and now i have written 180k words of torchwood fanfic. im endlessly fascinated and inspired by these characters, particularly by owen who has lowkey proven to be my muse lol. (he sits in my mind palace on top of a, like, literal fancy ass corinthian pedestal and his one job is to sit still n look pretty and sad but instead he snarks down at me every time i walk passed and in return i squirt a water gun at him and occasionally throw tomatoes at him. it's a very mutually loving relationship.) and 180k words in, and literally hundreds of hours spent thinking about and talking about tw/owen, and im still fascinated by it/him, there are still soooo many things i wanna explore through writing with these characters that i adore so much. 57k of the 180k words is part of what will eventually be a sequel series to an ugly picture (which is meant to be a stand-alone, for the record, but towards the end of the writing process i went "Hm. Actually I Have More Ideas", and it became a whole 'verse heh). problem is i dont rmr the fic enough to continue the first sequel and currently i cant revisit it and take notes 🤡 so that project's on hold. as for the other stuff, it's a good mix of misc one-shots and full-on projects, and several things are pretty much done and could, if i were anyone else, easily be polished and posted.

but, as ive made clear, unfortunately writing (well, revising + editing) is an absolute nightmare for me. now, im recently back on medication after nearly two years of rawdogging it, and ive been having issues with that fff (namely constant pervasive exhaustion) - but im working to figure out a happy medium, so im HOPING, hell, praying, that once i level out ill be able to open my docs and sit down and finish things without it being a goddamn ordeal. editing's not rlly fun for anyone, but it fucking sucks when your absolute favorite hobby + mode of expression gets terrorized by a wiggity wack disorder.

first order of business, once im able, is a 15k owen/andy fic that's literally 90% done. i wanted to post it in june, for pride month, and then my brain decided to convince me i wasnt being coherent in the slightest and i was like, nah, i cannot make myself soldier through the editing project this time, i dont want this to get ruined the same way. but hopefully soon i can drop that and it will be epic and such 😎

so in summation uh (sorry im a known babbler fdshk but this is what happens when u send an ask to someone who wrote a 30k fic where literally nothing happens KJFSD. also sorry for literally trauma dumping unprompted 😭 i did the white woman in the kmart thing) ive written a ton of torchwood fic and i 100% intend to write a ton more but mental illness garbage is trying to sabotage shit so basically im taking a break from trying to post any of it until my brain lets me enjoy my damn interest in relative peace 👍but i definitely have a lot more fic on the way. just might take a while for it to see the light of day. hopefully not that long

anyway thank you again so so so much for liking the fic enough to read it multiple times that means so much to meee. i hope to have more for u soon :))