#i spent. too long debating that moon.

[bones-n-bookles]

Torch 🕯️🌙

[gothgoblinbabe]

She Wolf

A/N: I said I was gonna get this done and it took me way too long and has an absurd word count but I am incapable of holding in word vomit! Inspired by She Wolf by Shakira cause idc its GOOD and it got me thinking' so here it is. Also you don't have to listen to the song as you read but I think It's fun!

Summary: You've got a crush on your best friend and he's a bit of a dick. He regrets it and tries to apologize but you're already trying to push yourself to move on any way you can, even if it's in some shady club you'd never been to before.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, swearing, Logan's kind of an asshole for a minute, Possessive/jealous!Logan, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), friends to lovers cause that's my fave, fem reader, mutant reader, unnamed creepy guy (?) aaaand Logan absolutely has a pain kink. I think that's it but if there's any I missed please let me know!

Word Count: 7K (im so sorry but I'm not though)

divider credit here

“Are you ever gonna tell him?”

You looked up from your desk towards Ororo’s voice, sighing and taking your glasses off your nose.

“God, I don’t know, ‘ro. I don’t think I should. It’s just going to end with me being humiliated and him never wanting to even be in the same room as me again.”

You’d had a crush on Logan Howlett since the day you first walked through the doors of the mansion six months ago. You’d probably be considered best friends by now with how much time you’d spend together, doing jack shit around the mansion on your days off. Just about everyone could tell he had a soft spot for you and that you had one for him. Logan was a classic ‘tough guy’, constantly trying to hide his kind nature with a hard exterior, but it took only a couple weeks for you to crack that barrier. You weren’t exactly a seemingly ‘soft’ type either.

You’d spent the majority of your life before you joined the X-men hoping from couch to couch and hitching rides with strangers, not really having a destination or a place to call home. You’d been dropped off at a church when you were fourteen, around the time you started to turn every full moon. Your parents couldn’t live with having to chain their mutant daughter in their basement once a month, and so they dropped you where they thought you’d find some ‘help’. You’d been passed from foster home to foster home till you were eighteen, each one passing you up the moment they realized you were not like them. It was always a slip of the mask, something setting you off to make you so enraged your eyes gleam yellow and your sharp canines make an unfortunate appearance. You took off the second you could and being on the road came with its fair share of creeps; men with terrible intentions looking for opportunities. You’d never wanted to hurt anyone - truly - but when cornered by a creep, it was hard to think anyone would miss them. A couple of local newspapers caught on, debating where the wolf that tore men to shreds had gone. You weren’t an animal. You just had teeth like one.

Knowing you couldn’t lurk in town much longer, you’d hitchhiked your way to a camp occupied with people like you; lost with no place to call home. It was there that you’d met a couple of mutants who told you about Charles Xavier and the place that seemed completely unreal until you set your eyes on it. That felt like a lifetime ago by now. 

“I think you're underestimating how he feels about you,” Ororo said, bringing you back to reality. She was sat on the edge of your bed, flipping through one of your magazines as you worked at your computer to try and make a lesson plan for the coming week. 

“I think you’re overestimating how he feels about me,” you let out a short laugh, shaking your head.

Just as she was about to retort, you both heard someone shout your names from the hallway. You looked at each other curiously and left the room, hearing shouting again. 

“Are you guys gonna play Monopoly with us or what?”

You both giggled and made your way downstairs towards Scott’s voice. Him, Jean, Marie, Bobby and Logan were all sat in the living room, the game already set up on the coffee table. Bobby and Marie were picking out their game pieces, assigning everyone else to their own piece.

“Okay, Logan, you’re gonna be the dog,” Marie smiled, dropping the little metal piece into the palm of his hand. 

He was definitely not as amused, “why do I have to be a damn dog?”

Ignoring him, she handed another piece out to Jean, “you’re the thimble.”

She then handed the boat to Scott, the top hat to you, and the iron to Ororo. You all began the game after Scott painstakingly over-explained the rules and how to play. 

It was a good bit into the game that you all became distracted with conversation, eventually leaving the board game untouched. The topic of compatibility came up somehow, the conversation focused on the joy of Bobby and Marie. 

“I think anyone would be lucky to have what you guys have,” Ororo smiled, shifting her gaze between the two of them.

“And what we have, obviously,” Scott joked, hanging his arm around Jean.

“Gross,” Logan chimed in, taking a sip of the beer he’d hidden in the back of the fridge.

“I think someone is jealous,” Ororo said in a singsong voice, poking his arm.

“Of having someone hang on me all the time? No, thanks,” he scoffed.

As stupid as it was, it made you a little sad to hear he had no interest in even entertaining the idea. It wasn’t a surprise, but still a disappointment nonetheless.

Ororo brought up your name and your eyes went huge, silently begging her to keep her mouth shut.

“You don’t seem to mind her hanging on you all the time. I think you’d be cute together,” she said, smiling mischievously at you. Scott and Jean agreed and you had never wanted to smash your head into a coffee table as much as you did in that moment.

“Nah, definitely not my type of girl.”

It was just seven words, out quick without a second thought, and yet it felt like you’d been punched in the gut. You couldn’t take your eyes off the monopoly board on the table, avoiding everyone’s gaze. 

Definitely not my type of girl. 

“I think I should head to bed, it’s getting late,” you mumbled, keeping your head down to hide your blushed face as you got up from the couch and practically ran out of the room and up the stairs. 

“What the hell was that?” Scott scolded Logan the moment you were out of sight.

“That was so mean,” Ororo chimes in, backhanding him on the arm.

“I didn’t mean to be,” Logan said nervously , shrugging his shoulders, “…do you think she’s mad at me?”

“Probably more hurt than mad,” Jean said honestly. 

“Shit,” he sighed, putting his beer down to rub his face with his hands, “what do I say?”

“Not that,” Marie replied, “why did you even say that anyway? You could’ve just said no.”

“I think you like her and you’re being mean so that she wont like you back because you’re afraid,” Ororo said after a moment of silence. 

Logan sat quiet for a moment, his hands still over his face.

“Am I that easy to read?” His voice was muffled through his hands.

The rest of them couldn’t help exchanging knowing smiles.

“So you finally admit it,huh? You’ve got a crush,” Scott teased.

Logan moved his hands from his eyes to glare daggers at him, “you shut your fucking mouth or I’ll shove that monopoly board where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“I think that’s a yes,” Jean whispered to her boyfriend.

“Talk to her when you see her tomorrow. We’re not going to let you hurt her feelings just because you can’t accept your own,” Ororo advised, lightly patting him on the shoulder.

“Do you think she’s even gonna talk to me?”

“Only one way to find out.”

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Logan tried to catch up with you the next day, always seeing you as you were leaving a room he was entering or passing by and even then, you ignored his calls of your name.

It was a little after dinner now and because it was a weekend, a couple of kids were up playing the PlayStation in the living room. Bobby and Marie sat with them, taking turns with the controllers. 

Logan entered the room after about three laps around the mansion, mentioning your name to the both of them.

“Have you guys seen her? I’ve been trying to talk to her all day, she keeps running from me.”

“Can’t really blame her,” Bobby muttered, his eyes never leaving the TV screen as he button smashed. 

“She’s in her room,” Marie answered before Logan could come up with a retort, “she went up before dinner, said she wasn’t hungry.”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair, “she’s skipping dinner now too, great.”

“Go talk to her!” She insisted, shooing him away with a wave of her hand.

He made his way to the stairs and up to your bedroom, knocking lightly on your door. Hearing nothing, he knocked again, a little harder. Still, nothing. 

“You can’t avoid me forever, you know. I wanna talk about yesterday, I was a dick.”

Silence. Now he was a little worried. He tentatively grabbed the doorknob and turned, cracking it open a bit.

Your bed was made, your desk was neatly organized and you were nowhere to be seen. He noticed your purse was gone from the usual spot you’d leave it in and your closet was open, a couple garments and some shoes strewn about on the floor. It looked like you’d gotten dressed and dipped. He figured maybe Ororo or Jean might know where you were, leaving your room and looking for them instead. He found them shortly after, huddled in the kitchen. Again, he asked if either of them knew where you were.

“She’s in her room, she went up before dinner,” Ororo answered.

“No, she’s not. And her purse is gone.”

Both women turned to each other with the same worried expression.

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Having tried your cellphone about thirteen times from just about everybody’s phones, they all decided they had to tell Charles. He used his ability to connect with every mutant on the planet to try and locate you, visualizing with his eyes closed. Everyone stood in his study, anxiously awaiting his conclusion. After a moment of silence, he started to silently chuckle to himself.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asked immediately, crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows.

“I’m afraid you all have your work cut out for you,” he replied, finally opening his eyes.

“So, where is she?” Ororo asked, worry in her voice. 

“There is a club called The Nightcrawler - “ Charles began to explain, but Logan interjected impatiently. 

“Club? What, like a book club?” He nearly scoffed. There was no way you were at some sleazy nightclub in the city. You were a homebody and an introvert, neither of which made clubbing enjoyable. 

“Maybe we should just let her have fun,” Jean began to say, but Logan was already halfway out the door.

Uncharacteristically, you found yourself dressed to the nines in the middle of a dance floor full of people. You’d spent a while trying outfits in your room, searching for something you could actually wear out that wasn’t sweatpants and a hoodie. You’d settled on a halter top that tied at your neck and in the back and a pair of ridiculously tight pants that you’d bought forever ago and never had the guts to wear. You ended up standing in front of the mirror, choosing a pair of very cute but very uncomfortable shoes and looking over the outfit. If you weren’t Logan’s ‘type of girl’, you sure as hell were somebody’s. Trying to get yourself out there may be the best solution to forgetting the heart-crushing infatuation you had with your best friend who would never see you as anything more. 

“I feel ridiculous,” you chuckled to yourself, turning in the mirror to see the back of your outfit. You did look good, just super out of your comfort zone. You grabbed your bag and ended up slipping out when everyone was eating dinner. That’s how you ended up where you were, pushing your way through the crowd of people with a drink in your hand. You passed the raised lounge area and felt a hand on your shoulder, making you turn suddenly.

“Hey, you wanna dance?”

He was tall, leaning down a little to shout over the music. He was pretty good looking but didn’t look like Logan in the slightest, which you realized was exactly the point of going out tonight. He was dressed nice and smelled like expensive cologne. 

“Sure, why not?”

As you abandoned your half finished drink on a table and let him pull you a little further into him, a familiar song started to thump through the speakers.

“I love this song!” You exclaimed, letting the nameless guy rest his hands on your hips.

S.O.S., she's in disguise

S.O.S., she's in disguise

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

“Ironic,” you muttered under the music.

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Logan walked ahead of Ororo, Jean and Scott, his long legs taking him much further at a much faster pace.

“Logan, slow down!” Ororo called out, jogging a bit to catch up with him.

“What if she didn’t even want to be there? What if some guy dragged her there?”

“Oh,” Jean laughed, “ I see. You’re jealous.” 

“No.”

“Yup.”

“Nope.”

“So you’d be fine if we walked in there and she is with a guy?” 

Logan slowed his pace as they approached the entrance, “sure, whatever,” feigned disdain in his voice.

The second the door opened, the bass of the music was overwhelming. It was dim, save for a few colorful lights projecting around the room. The four of them were squished together near the door, trying to pick you out in a sea of moving people. 

“This is gonna be like finding a needle in a haystack,” Scott shouted.

“Not necessarily,” Ororo replied, a smug smile on her face.

“What?” Logan furrowed his eyebrows.

She pointed across the room and he followed her gaze.

There's a she wolf in the closet

Open up and set it free 

There's a she wolf in your closet

Let it out so it can breathe

You didn’t even look like you. He’d never seen you in anything that showed that much skin or any clothes that even hugged you like that, for that matter. 

And you were with a guy.

Sitting across a bar, staring right at her prey

It's going well so far, she's gonna get her way

“So, what did we tell you?” Jean shouted, waving her hand in front of his glaring eyes.

“Just some kid,” he replied dismissively, turning to her, “doesn’t mean anything anyway.”

“You sure?” Scott nudged his shoulder, making Logan look towards you again.

That kid had his hands up the sides of your top with his head craned down to kiss your neck, your back to his chest. You were giggling, playfully smacking his arm. Truthfully, you thought the attention was nice for a change. After trying so hard for too long to get Logan to notice you, it felt good to have someone pay attention to you in that way. 

Not looking for cute little divos or rich city guys

I just want to enjoy 

By having a very good time

And behave very bad in the arms of a boy

You felt his hands squeeze your hips a little harder, enough for his nails to dig into your skin. Out of instinct, you felt your canine teeth start to poke against your lower lip. You tried in vain to tug his hands from you, only making him tighten his grip.

The switch in demeanor was obvious even from across the dark room, your smile turning into a grimace that bared your sharp teeth. You yanked the sleeves of his jacket to make him finally let go, turning around while he still had his arms ghosted around you.

S.O.S., she's in disguise

S.O.S., she's in disguise

“Touch me like that again, you son of a bitch, and I will rip you to fucking shreds.”

You gathered fistfuls of his shirt, bringing him down to eye level so he could see your snarling teeth and gleaming eyes as a hint that you weren’t bluffing. 

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

Before anyone could even tell him to stay put, Logan had already disappeared into the crowd of people.

“God damn it,” Scott huffed, following Jean and Ororo when they went after him. 

“Logan!” Jean yelled, trying to grab his jacket to slow him and only having him slip out of her grip. 

There's a she wolf in the closet

Let it out so it can breathe

“Shit, I’m kinda into the fangs. What, you gonna bite me?” He was whispering in your ear, your hands still on his shirt. Before you could do something you were going to regret, you felt someone tug your upper arm and pull you away from him.

“Come on,” Logan snapped, “we’re leaving.”

“What the hell are you doing here? What do you mean we?” You yelled back. You didn’t want to stay anywhere near that guy but you weren’t ready to leave either and sure as hell not with Logan dragging you out like an angry parent.

“Hey, she doesn’t really look like she wants to leave with you, man,” the other guy interjected, keeping a grip on you by looping his fingers through one of the belt loops on your pants. 

“Yeah? She doesn’t want to stay with you either, jackass,” Logan moved his hand from your arm to hold your hand instead, “she’s not interested.”

What the hell had gotten into him? You felt like you were in the middle of a tug of war with two dogs. 

“No one’s gonna fucking ask what I want, right?” You tried to complain, neither of them hearing you. 

“Your little doggy girlfriend here was just about to take care of me. You mad about it?” The other guy laughed and you nearly lunged at him, Logan’s hand tugging you back. He intended to pull you away so he could get to him first, but Scott, Jean and Ororo jumped in just in time. 

“Alright - enough, enough, we’re leaving!” Jean yelled, pushing you all towards the door, Logan dragging you the whole way. When you finally were out in the cool evening air, you angrily yanked your hand from his.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked, turning to Logan, “and what the fuck was that?”

“What was that? You’re welcome - “ 

“I didn’t ask you to come save me - from what, having a good time?”

“Oh, yeah, it looked like you were having a lot of fun,” he scoffed, “he had you by the hip so hard he probably left a bruise.”

He instinctively reached his hand out to check and you swatted it away, “Don’t - Don’t touch me!”

None of them had ever heard you sound so pissed off and you’d definitely never snapped at Logan like that before. 

You took a deep breath and reached down to slip off your shoes, leaving you barefoot on the concrete. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized to the rest of them,” but why are you guys here?”

“You left without saying anything, we couldn’t find you and we wanted to be sure you were safe,” Ororo sighed, hugging you in relief, “we’re so glad you’re okay.” 

You hugged her back.

“I just - I wanted to disappear for a while,” you explained apologetically, avoiding Jean and Scott’s gaze. 

“Do you know how stupid it was to run off and not tell anyone where you were going?” Logan scolded you, but Jean clicked her tongue at him.

“Shut it! Enough from you! You’ve done enough damage control!”

The ride home was almost silent, your tired body slumped in the backseat between Scott and Jean, until Ororo spoke from the front passenger seat.

“Honey, I don’t mean this in a bad way, but,” she paused, thinking over her words, “what were you gonna do to that guy if we hadn’t stopped you?”

You understood what she meant immediately. 

“What, you think I was going to kill him?” you asked, crossing your arms and leaning forward in your seat, “I wasn’t. I don’t do that unless I have to and you know even then I hate doing it.”

“I know…so, what were you doing with a guy like him anyway?” she asked, trying to move on from the question that had clearly made you upset, “he seemed kinda shady.”

Logan was gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were white, dreading the answer.

You shrugged your shoulders, staring at the synthetic fabric of your pants.

“Liked the attention, I guess,” you answered honestly, kind of hoping you could throw anyone off the idea of you being interested in Logan, “it’s been awhile since a guy has liked me like that.”

“He only wanted one thing from you anyway,” he scoffed from the front seat. Ororo glared at him, about to tell him to mind his business before you stopped her.

“And I can’t want it either?”

That shut everybody up and Ororo turned to him again, a look on her face that said ‘you asked, you got the answer’.

You tried to bolt to your room when you all got home but Logan was quick to follow, catching up with you to stand in your path in the hallway outside of your bedroom. 

“What’s going on with you?”

“Leave me be.”

You tried to dodge around him but he stuck his arm out. 

“Logan.”

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to continue speaking.

“Move.”

“I’m not leaving you alone until you tell me what’s going on with you. You don’t disappear like that, ever. And I wanna talk to you about last night - “

“There’s nothing to talk about. Goodnight,” you huffed, ducking under his arm and opening your door.

“I care about you, you know, I was worried,” he began to explain.

You tried to slam the door in his face but he stuck his foot out, jamming his boot between the door and the doorframe. You let go in defeat and turned away, gathering your pajamas as if he wasn’t in the room.

“Yeah? Why?,” you scoffed, trying with everything in you to bite your tongue but failing miserably, “I’m not your type of girl. What’s there to worry about?”

Logan’s face fell. He pushed the door closed behind him. 

“Is that what this is about? That’s why you went out?”

“Why do you care?” 

You still had your back to him, furiously shuffling through clothing in your dresser.

“Stop.” 

You felt his hands on your arms as he came up behind you, paralyzing you in your spot.

You let him turn you around gently, almost chest to chest.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings -“

“I’m not.”

He leaned back a little to force you to look him in the eye.

“I only said that - listen, I only said that because - “ Logan paused, biting his lip till it nearly bled, but you shook your head and slipped by him again.

“Please, don’t treat me like I’m stupid, Logan.”

You sounded so exasperated, tears forming in your eyes when you turned your back to him.

“Fuck,” he sighed, “I only said that because I didn’t want you to like me.”

You wiped the tear that rolled down your cheek and turned back to him, a confused expression on your face.

“It worked, are you happy?”

“No, I’m not - “

“Well, guess it backfired. Get out of my room.”

You were face to face again, keeping your mouth in a tight line so your lip wouldn’t quiver. It felt stupid to cry in front of him, but you couldn’t really help it once it started. 

“Oh, god, please, don’t cry,” he begged, leaning down and actually bringing a hand up to your face to wipe away a tear that rolled down your cheek. You wanted to smack it away, tell him again to just get the hell out , but you couldn’t.

“Why would you do that?” You mumbled out quietly, finally letting the overwhelming feeling of sadness cancel out any rage you had for him. You couldn’t look him in the eye again, concentrating on the throw rug you were standing on.

“I’m so sorry, princess, I am. I’m really fucking stupid,” he huffed. 

You were surprised by the softness of his voice and finally tore your eyes from the floor. He’d called you that before, but usually in a teasing way. This time it sounded endearing, like a plea of your name. 

“And what happened there, at the club? ‘She’s not interested’, what was that about?” You continued.

He sighed, still trying to figure out what exactly it was that he wanted to say. He realized there probably wasn’t much of a way to beat around the bush and he groaned, closing his eyes as he stood in front of you to make spilling his guts a little less agonizing.

“I like you - like you a lot, and I was an asshole because I figured if you hated me, you couldn’t like me back and it would save you the trouble.”

Hearing no response, he finally opened his eyes to see you still standing in the same spot, your lips parted.

“Save me the trouble of what?”

You were confused, your eyes narrowed as if you were angry.

“I don’t know…having to deal with me, I guess. I - I’ve never felt the way I feel about you for anyone else and it scares the shit out of me.”

You could hear him swallow hard, his eyes looking everywhere around the room except at you. 

“And earlier, when we picked you up,” he continued, “I acted like that because I was jealous, alright? Can’t stand to see some asshole on you like that, and you were dressed all nice and - I don’t know.”

You’d never heard him sound so nervous in all the time you’d known him.

“You are my type of girl,” he finally choked out, “only type of girl I’d ever want.”

All you could do was inhale sharply, his words echoing in your mind. 

“It’s alright if you hate me, I can’t say I really blame you. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

He began to walk out, convinced he’d fucked up beyond repair.

“Logan.”

Your voice stopped his hand from turning your doorknob and he turned back to you. 

No longer crying, you tentatively stepped forward a bit, nervously playing with the front hem of your top. 

“You’re not something to deal with, you know,” you muttered, letting your hair fall in front of your face.

You supposed this was the point where it was your turn to explain.

“I’ve liked you for a long time, Logan, probably since the day I walked in here and I just - I think I wanted someone to distract me so I wouldn’t wallow in self pity because you didn’t want me.”

“You were trying to get over me,” he realized aloud, a small smile on his face to hide the hurt, “I deserved that.”

After a moment of tense silence, he spoke again.

“Did it work?”

His voice was low and soft, a tone you’d rarely heard him speak with.

You pursed your lips and finally lifted your head, taking a deep breath. 

“No. I don’t think it was ever going to, either,” you laughed a little, “when that guy asked me to dance, the first thing I thought of was that he didn’t look anything like you.”

Your voice trailed off a little at the end, a little embarrassed to confess that even if Logan had already flat out told you he was interested in you.

Without another word, he came close enough to reach for your hands and gently intertwine your fingers with his. He cleared his throat, nervously chewing his bottom lip before he spoke.

“Can I kiss you?”

You must have had this dream a million times over, waking up night after night and feeling so empty because none of it was real. But now, with his hands in yours, it was very real.

You eagerly pressed your lips to his, not wanting to waste another second. His lips were soft and you were encompassed in the scent of his body wash and cologne, smelling of pine and cedar wood. You brought your hands up to play with his hair at the back of his head. Logan moved his arms to wrap around your waist, pulling you further into him. 

When you finally pulled away from each other, you were both smiling like idiots.

“We should’ve done that much sooner,” you giggled.

“Agreed.”

His fingers traced small circles on the exposed skin of your back, making you shiver.

He kissed you again, this time with much more intensity. It wasn’t long before your tongues were in each other's mouths and you both had fumbled yourselves over to the end of your bed.

“Wanted you for so long,” he mumbled between kissing your neck and jaw, his hands still sliding up and down your back, “I was so stupid.”

“We both were,” you giggled a little, cut short into a moan when he licked your neck all the way from your collarbone to under your ear.

“L-Logan,” you gasped, unable to hide your blushing face.

He hummed into your neck, bringing his mouth to your ear, “Can I show you how sorry I am? Let me make it up to you.”

His voice made the hair on the back of your neck stand up and you let him pull you onto him to straddle his lap, lost in the feeling of his hands on you.

“Mmm, uh-huh,” you hummed, mouth hung open as he sucked light marks into your neck. 

“You have to use your words, pretty girl,” he brought his head up to rest his forehead against yours. He cupped your jaw tenderly, almost as if you’d disappear if he let go. 

Before you could answer, he moved his hands to drag your hips over his, grunting when he felt the pressure.

“Y-yes, yeah - please,” you choked out between moans, tugging his hair harder every time he pushed and pulled your hips.

“Please what, baby?”

“You - you can make it up to me,” you groaned into his neck. 

He effortlessly lifted you by your thighs and laid you with your back to the bed. You untucked his white t-shirt from his jeans as he crawled over you, desperate to get your hands underneath it. You lightly scratched your nails along his back, making him groan into your ear. He kissed down your neck to the center of your chest, gently slipping his fingers under the hem of your top and around the back. 

“Can I take this off you, baby?”

You were already sitting up before he could finish his sentence, reaching to try and untie the knot at the back of your neck.

“Eager, huh?”, he chuckled, “let me, sweetheart.”

He wrapped his arms around your lower back to tug at the knot, feeling it come loose in his hands. He snaked his hands up to the back of your neck, doing the same to the tied strings there. When it came loose, the only thing holding the piece of fabric to you was his hands at the back of your neck. He let it slip from his fingers, a smirk on his face when it fell completely.

You threw the garment somewhere to the floor and tugged on the collar of his t-shirt, bringing him down with you as laid back again and pressed your lips to his. He pulled back for a moment to yank his shirt off and immediately return his mouth to yours, making his way down to your neck. He brought both his hands to your chest and swept his thumbs over your hard nipples, eventually bringing his lips to them and sucking. 

“Ah - Logan,” you whined, making him smile against your skin.

“I like it when you say my name, pretty girl,” he mumbled, dragging his fingers down your sides and hooking them into the waistband of your pants. He kissed all the way down to your hips, moving himself to lay on his stomach with his head between your thighs. 

Before he could ask you if it was alright to rid you of them, you were already unbuttoning your pants and pushing them down your hips and thighs. He took them off the rest of the way for you and you kicked your panties off with them.

He hooked his arms around your thighs to pull you closer, licking his lips and resting his cheek on the inside of your thigh.

“I thought about you a lot, you know - like this,” he huffed, his warm breath fanning over your pussy.

You had your hands in his hair already, swiping fallen strands of hair out of his face.

“I thought about you like this, too,” you admitted, sighing as he started to plant kisses right above where you wanted him the most.

“Yeah?”

His teasing voice brought goosebumps to your skin and you nodded, gasping when you finally felt his lips graze your clit.

“This what you think about when you fuck yourself?” He mumbled into you, the vibration of his voice making you tighten your grip in his hair. He growled like an animal, trying to push you even further into his mouth by the grip on your thighs.

You were trying to choke out an answer, distracted by the wet sounds of him messily eating you out.

“Y - ah, yes, yeah - not as good as the real thing, though.”

He laughed with his mouth still attached to you and you tightened your thighs around his head, keeping him in place.

He could have spent hours with his mouth to your cunt, practically fucking you with his tongue while you whined his name. 

A knock on your door sounded through the room, the both of you freezing in place.

“Hey, I just wanted to check on you. Are you feeling okay?”

It was Scott.

 You grimaced, thankful at the very least that your door was locked, but Logan had a terribly smug smirk on his face. 

“Y-yeah, I’m alright, just - just tired,” you managed to choke out, stuttering when you felt two of his fingers slip into you effortlessly.

“You sure?”

You sighed, hating and loving Logan at the same time for what he was doing. 

“Yup, th-thank you, m’ jus’ gonna go to bed.”

Scott responded with a goodnight and you groaned in relief when you heard him walk away.

Logan was curling his fingers inside of you, still lapping at your pussy and letting you use your grip on his hair to angle his head however you wanted him. You felt the pressure in your lower stomach rise and you tried to warn him, tugging on the hair on the back of his head.

“Logan, I’m - “

“C’mon, pretty girl, c’mon.”

His encouragement sent you over the edge, euphoria blooming from your lower stomach and spreading through you. You had to cover your mouth to muffle your pornographic moans, but Logan reached up to tug your wrist.

“Uh-uh, wanna hear you, beautiful,” he mumbled into you, practically pushing your thighs even further around his head.

“Fuck, L-Logan, too - too sensitive,” you stuttered out, trying to pull his face away by his hair and failing miserably because of his grip around your thighs.

He eventually reluctantly detached himself and crawled back on top of you, sucking the taste of you off his fingers. 

“I could do that for hours, you know, if you let me,” he groaned, pulling your hips up to him so you could feel the weight of his hard cock underneath his jeans.

Still sensitive, you reactively gripped his biceps and dug your fingernails into his skin. You were going to apologize and were quickly cut off by the guttural moan he let out into the side of your neck.

“Fuck,” he groaned, rocking his hips against yours.

“You’re into pain, huh?” 

You figured it was your turn to tease him, dragging your fingernails from his shoulders all the way down his back.

“You’re gonna pay for that, pretty girl,” he grunted, moving quickly to undo his belt and strip himself of the rest of his clothing. 

When his cock sprung up and hit his stomach as he took off his boxers, you swallowed hard; already feeling a wanting ache in your stomach again. You figured he was big - he was already a tall guy, after all - but he was far bigger than any guy you’d ever seen. Logan noticed the way you bit your lower lip, resting himself on top of you again and bringing his thumb up to pull your lip from under your teeth.

“What, are you nervous? It’s alright sweetheart, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

His voice was so soft and gentle, a tone you rarely ever heard from him. 

You could feel the weight of his cock against your inner thigh, heavy and already leaking. 

“ ‘m not nervous, I want you, please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist. You reached your hand between your bodies to line him up with your entrance, trying to push him in with your legs around his waist. 

“You sure?” he huffed, trying with every muscle in his body to not slam into you in one thrust. 

You nodded eagerly, scratching at his lower back. 

Logan couldn’t help himself and gave in, slipping himself into you.

“So tight,” he groaned into your neck, pushing himself in even further.

“You - fuck - you’re so fucking big,” you admitted truthfully, nearly drooling at the feeling of him stretching you out. 

“Feels good?”

It was hard for him to speak when you were so wet that he was nearly slipping out of you as he gently rocked his hips back and forth, trying to be gentle and let you adjust to his size. 

“Mm - uh-uh,” you hummed, gasping each time he pushed further.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he huffed and you groaned, digging your nails into him. 

“Y-yes, yeah - want you all the way in,” you whimpered.

That was all it took for him to be buried in you, grinding his hips into yours so that you were pinned to the mattress. 

He worked up to a devastating pace, practically slamming your headboard into the wall.

“S-someone’s gonna - someone’s gonna hear us,” you managed to gasp out, out of breath every time he filled you and pulled back again. 

“Don’t care, let ‘em,” he pressed his forehead to yours, bringing a hand up to your face to affectionately cup your cheek. It was so sweet and almost disgustingly hot, the caring gesture contrasting the intense feeling of him repeatedly slamming into the sensitive spot inside of you. 

He really didn’t have a care in the world about who heard you both, far too lost in the feeling of finally being able to have you under him like that. You had sweat soaked strands of hair stuck to your face, your eyes squeezed shut, and he was almost sure you’d never looked more beautiful. 

“So fucking pretty,” he huffed, his thumb swiping your bottom lip. He had an idea, one he’d considered many times when he thought of you under him like this.

“Bite me.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, threading your hand through his hair, “are you sure?”

“Please.”

You forcibly unsheathed your fangs, letting them tentatively poke at his thumb that was still to your lips.

He moved his hand to your throat, resting it there without tightening his grip. 

“Please.”

His pleading had the heat in your lower stomach rising and you obliged, sinking your teeth into his shoulder. You felt guilty - you didn’t enjoy hurting people - until he was whimpering in your ear, moaning your name over and over again. 

You bit his neck, his shoulders, his lip - all the small puncture wounds healing themselves within seconds. 

Having him so pussy drunk and groaning praises into your ear brought the pressure in your lower stomach to a max and you cried out his name, letting him fuck you through your second orgasm. 

“ ‘s good, huh, princess? Come on me, c’mon,” he was begging, feeling your muscles tense around him. That drove him over the edge, his hips rutting into you and his thrusts becoming sloppy. He finally let himself go, filling you and letting it drip from you onto the sheets. He pulled back a little to see the mess you had both made, your inner thighs painted with a mix of his release and yours. He went to pull out completely and you clamped your thighs around his hips again, keeping him still.

“Want me to stay?”

“Mhm - please.”

The sexual tension was replaced with loving comfort, Logan keeping you to his chest as he laid you both on your side. His chin rested on the top of your head and your face was against his chest with your eyes closed. You smiled at the thump of his heartbeat in your ear, nearly letting it put you to sleep. 

“Hey, pretty girl,” he mumbled into your hair, planting a kiss on the top of your head, “you know I love you?”

The last three words made your eyes shoot open and you looked up at him, worried you’d misheard him or maybe he was just messing with you.

“Really?”

“Of course. You think I would’ve done that with you if I wasn’t in love?”

You thought hard for a second, realizing he was right. It wasn’t that he hadn’t had hookups before, but it had been quite a long time since he’d bothered to even get to know someone like that. He wasn’t the type to lead you on, either - always up front with you, even if he didn’t have to be. 

“I love you too,” you answered, unable to hide the wide smile on your face.

“I should’ve told you much sooner,” he sighed, his eyes fluttering closed as you snuggled into him again.

Before you could both fall asleep from exhaustion, he yanked the comforter over the both of you, hearing you mumble sleepily.

“You can make it up to me some more.”

───────♡──────────────♡───────

A/N: If you made it to the end I love you <3 pls lmk what you think and reblog+like if you enjoyed!! also still navigating how to write smut without using cringe terminology so forgive me if that part sucks

[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 Jaosn 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.”

-

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ i am no longer doing a taglist, my apologies ! however, please feel free to like, reblog, and comment instead :)

[zaephix]

carry me to tomorrow / / xavier , zayne , & rafayel . . .

loving him can feel like a multitude of things

a/n: having severe brainrot over these men, smb save me. rlly random but i got a 96 on my physics test everybody clap!! (can you tell who my favorite is)

loving XAVIER feels like waking up at dawn and watching the sun and moon up in the sky at the same time. with you looking at the view with heavy eyes as the shades of blue and black fade to warm tones of orange and yellow, exchanging greetings with the moon. you're reminded of the sun as you stare at his peaceful face, his grey-blonde hair messy, making his skin look even softer. with a content sigh, you crawl back into his embrace and he welcomes you with a hum.

loving XAVIER feels like staring at the clouds and getting carried away by your daydreams. even when the both of you are on missions, you can't seem to take your eyes off of him (whether it's for romantic reasons or skeptical reasons - your choice). just as the clouds hide the blue sky, it feels like he hides himself as well, choosing instead to appear as a dull blob. you've asked XAVIER about himself more times than you can count, and yet he still chooses to stay quiet. you've nothing but your imagination at this rate. however, both of you know that one day the clouds will fade, revealing the deep, rich, and true colors hidden away. time will tell.

finally, loving XAVIER feels like spring. like the fresh grass and the fresh rain, like the blooming flowers and the bright rays. spring is a new beginning, for the earth and people alike. with XAVIER, everything and nothing feels new. you feel like you've done this with him a thousand times before, and yet you're pleasantly surprised each time. as the song birds celebrate the arrival of spring, you and XAVIER lie in the grass. nothing is exchanged between the two of you - just your time. with each passing second, your eyes begin to close again. and just as your vision was fading, you heard soft snores and mumbles of your name.

loving ZAYNE feels like going home at dusk, wondering what he's up to. the day ends with orange and red hues up in the sky, the moon readying itself for nightfall. you know he has a tendency to get caught up in work too often than not. and you wonder if you're overstepping your boundaries once you're at the doorstep of his office. what you didn't know was that even through the long and boring days at the hospital, he debated with himself on whether or not to call you. loving ZAYNE feels like moments when the sun paints everything in orange, gold hues - short, but sweet moments worth remembering.

loving ZAYNE feels like trying to navigate through the fog. fog feels uncertain, the chill sending goosebumps down your arm. the mist feels as though it's coercing you to join it away from the safety of your car. and in times like these you're reminded of how ZAYNE's morning coffee fogs his reading glasses. the same way you chuckle before taking them off of him and wiping them. you don't notice, but the black haired man now looks at you fondly - the steam from his coffee now subsided.

finally, loving ZAYNE feels like the transition from autumn to winter. the days of colorful leaves and cool wind over with. the beginning of winter marks its arrival through the fragile and stiff trees, the wind blowing through them as though they miss the kisses they'd share with the leaves. the days are getting shorter and the nights are longer. although the beginning of winter signifies hibernation and hiding, you can't help but love it. nights with ZAYNE are spent in bed cuddled in blankets and pillows as you both read books together. you never really cared for the books but rather the man that is clinging to you in a fashion he would never reveal in public. you had no problem with it. you'd love him in private and in public, through the winter storm and the chilly mornings. and just as your vision was fading, you felt a sigh against your skin and hands tucking you in, getting you ready for your dreams.

loving RAFAYEL feels like midnight escapades, brought on by midnight phone calls. the night is pitch black, save for the few street lights on your way from your apartment to his studio and the glowing moon. it's a vulnerable hour, crickets chirping and the white noise of the few cars going down streets the only music of the night. but as soon as you're met with his cheeky smile, you seem to forget the eeriness. your dazed nods as he goes on to rant about his problem or his painting - whichever one it was. it was only when you yawned when he invited you to rest in his too-big-of-a-bed. you had no idea if that was his intention or not, but any intelligible thoughts were hushed as the lights dimmed and the mattress below you dipped from the added weight.

loving RAFAYEL feels like the dew that paints the grass in the late nights and early mornings. you observe from the cover of his patio as he sinks his feet into the grass, seemingly in deep thought about something. you supposed it was his creative process, however odd it may be. the sun is almost blinding as it rises again and tiny rainbows form as if to say hello. he was still rooted in place. you think he invites you over, however you were distracted. the moisture of the air reminds you of how with RAFAYEL moments are quiet, just like how the grass quietly embraces the oncoming dew - an old friend.

finally, loving RAFAYEL feels like summer. like the hot atmosphere and the ice-cream melting on your tongue and fingers. like the never ending sky and the vibrant butterflies flapping their wings. loving RAFAYEL feels like the vigor the waves have for the sand under the hot gaze of the sun. and yet, you can never get a second of peace with all of his exhibitions gaining popularity. loving RAFAYEL means that summer nights is all you can afford to yourselves, the rush of the day still struggling to fade away. sitting on the sand, the white noise of the waves crashing over the earth lull you in a trance. and just as your vision was fading you saw dusky purple hair and violet amber eyes come closer, the feeling of lips against your temple sending you off.

[holdinbacksecrets]

keep you warm — l.dh

relationships are scary, and donghyuck ran away from yours. 18+ suggestive

you can’t get yourself to fall asleep. the time that’s passed since his body laid beside yours—stayed through the night—has been so long. it was becoming harder to hold onto the memory, and you couldn’t write it down again. journal page after journal page held every detail you remembered, turning them over again in your mind until you felt a familiar warmth in your heart again. you feel so cold without him. it’s been too long since you created the warmth on your own.

there was no hope to be found in you this week. the days blended together: waking up before your alarm, dragging yourself through the hours at work, and pushing yourself through evening runs in an attempt to sweat out the feelings. it worked for those 40 minutes spent in a pair of hokas before finding yourself on your balcony again, hair wet, a cool breeze brushing your skin like a promise to never let you down.

the glass of wine is filled a second time, and you watch the maroon liquid slosh around the glass as your head falls to the side. you haven’t drank since your brother’s wedding. years have passed since that night, so much has changed.

your knees knock together, feet resting on the coffee table, and you pinch the moon between your fingers. you imagine its dust on your skin, wondering how long the particles would linger before disappearing, washing away.

you hope he doesn’t completely disappear. the truth of those words has become harder to admit to yourself as feelings deepen. a heart truly grows fonder through distance, but the shadowed insanity has sharp claws. it draws blood, makes you sick and unable to eat.

you reach for the glass and head inside. the liquid disappears down the drain along with what remains in the bottle. you search for tea. something herbal. craving the warmth between your hands. craving the feeling of it traveling down your throat. needing something softer coating your mouth. something that won’t unravel the sweet dreams you anticipate.

the knock comes while you’re leaning against the kitchen counter, gaze set on the time ticking down—neon numbers on the microwave. you don’t have to move to know it’s him. you wonder how impulsive this decision was. how long he sat in his car debating coming up, using the key that lets him in your building. did he feel guilty pulling it out? did he think about the time that’s passed since he last felt its curved metal between his fingers?

you reach the door and the microwave begins to beep. the lock is turned, and you swallow hard.

he’s standing outside your door, and the brown of his eyes looks softer than before. he’s wearing glasses and a hoodie you know to be incredibly soft. his hair is long, nearly curtaining his eyes, definitely hiding his brows.

your cheek meets the door, wondering if he’ll speak before you step back and let him in. he has to say something. he has to know this isn’t ok. that it fucking hurts.

his tongue wets his lips and he takes you in. his eyes roam your face for so long. they run over your features repeatedly before staying on the eyes he sees in his own dreams.

“should i have called first?”

he looks uncertain. it’s a foreign face to see him wear. the twisting of his ring is subconscious while he waits. it would be so easy to break, to reach for him.

“it’s ok.” your smile is tight lipped, half hidden by the hinged metal.

“i’m sorry for disappearing.”

with that, you step back and let him inside.

he slips out of his shoes and you lock the door, heading for the kitchen to retrieve your tea and fill a glass of water for him. this scene has been lived a hundred times but never so quiet.

“why did you?” you ask holding out the glass. his fingertips brush yours. warm. the mug of tea is a sad attempt at recreating the feeling.

he follows you to the living room, settling into the couch because he knows you’ll take the large, green chair. he’s only found you there more times than he can count. it’s like your resting place, your recharge zone—a place of tried and true comfort. his comfort holds uncertainty.

“the honest answer is fear and …discomfort.”

“did i make you uncomfortable?” your eyebrows raise before taking the first sip and tucking your legs beneath you.

“no! no. that’s not it at all. i just- we became so close, and the feelings… the realest feelings. i doubted myself and filled in all the blank spaces.”

“blank spaces?” you ask when a silence fills the room.

“i imagined all your wants from me… for us. i decided i couldn’t give them to you even though i never asked what they are. i think- i know some are clear, but not all the details…” he looks afraid. he looks so small, smaller than you’ve ever seen him. it freaks you out. you want to comfort him. you want to make it all better, but you have to listen first. you have to gather the answers. otherwise it’s not fair.

“if you had asked, do you think my answers would’ve made you disappear too?”

“i can’t know that for sure, and i’m sorry if that hurts to hear because… fuck i don’t want to hurt you. i make all my decisions with you in mind. i’ve never done that before.”

“i know, it’s scary. it’s really scary to feel yourself starting to intertwine with someone, bend to them, have unwavering consideration appear and stay.”

he smiles then. “you’ve always been so much better than me with words.”

you shake your head, drinking more of the tea. “i overthink. i dissect.” i’m stained by words unsaid. i keep words that were never meant for me, and yet i crave them. i crave to offer you the right ones. i envision perfection. my perfection. for you.

“do you dissect this? me?”

“of course i do.” the honesty has always been too easy with him, and it’s here despite the distance, despite the rocky uneasiness you’re walking through—addressing head on.

“i’m sorry it happened this way. that i did what i did knowing your history. i don’t want to let you down—be like the last disappointment.” he tried so many times to call you. he sat in the parking garage and worried you’d see him as if seeing each other wasn’t the whole point.

you finish your tea, swallowing the warmth and barely feeling it past the back of your throat.

“i want to say you don’t have to apologize. in the same breath, thank you for doing it. i want you here. that’s impossible to deny, but it’s fucking scary, donghyuck. i’m so fucking terrified of wanting you— the fact that i do is having a hard time settling in. it’s not easy to accept.” because you know what it looks like. you know the carefree person you become within it, and you don’t want to lose her again.

he knows what you mean. you’ve laid together, half-dressed, and filled your dark room with honesty. he asked you questions you’ve never heard before, never meant for you. your answers were important, and everything you said has been remembered: the fear is impossible for him to forget.

“we’re both afraid.” his gaze holds so much love you feel yourself start to cry, and he’s leaning forward immediately, reaching for you. “baby, come here.”

a sob breaks free when your bodies meet. when the touch you’ve been looking for in fragmented memories is finally known again as you melt into him.

“i don’t want to be afraid to love you.”

he doesn’t tense at your words. if anything, he feels lighter. donghyuck knows to be your solid ground is all he wants.

“doing it together sounds like the right way to start, hmm?” his lips meet your forehead, and you nod against his chest.

“you can never do that again, though. you have to tell me, and i’ll tell you too because neither one of us deserves the guessing game. it’s sour and heavy and i can’t lose the sleep. not because of that. i won’t do it again.” the last thing your words are is harsh. they’re coated in yearning. they’re relieving to share, and he feels the care you have for him stick to his skin. it’s insane to think he let himself believe he wouldn’t be safe with you, but those middle-of-the-night thoughts are never on our side.

“i won’t. i’ll annoy you with all the communication.”

“please, it’s an aphrodisiac.”

he laughs then. finally. you’re set alight, feeling euphoric as his chest vibrates against your cheek. “i’m so in love with you.”

your lips part. “say it again.”

“sweetheart, i’m so in love with you.”

you pull away from him, dropping your hand to his cheek, fingertips meeting moles. searching his eyes until your vision blurs with tears, caught beneath his thumb. “i love you. i’ve loved you since the night in the corner store.”

“that long?” his voice is so emotional, breaking at the end, and you finally realize it: he doesn’t think he deserves this.

“that long. i knew. it was impossible to miss.”

“to miss?”

“donghyuck, you’re so easy to love. i feel so lucky to love you.”

an exhale sinks his shoulders. you kiss the apple of his cheek, feeling the first tear on your lips just before you pull away, so you kiss his eyelid next and then the other. whispering, “i can’t wait to love you loudly. i can’t wait to show you what you deserve.” and he guides your mouth to his.

your lips come together with the most emotional charge you’ve ever felt. it’s almost overwhelming, but you can’t imagine pulling away. you adjust, straddling his lap, feeling the certainty on his lips. the promise. the prayer.

it deepens as your hands sink into his hair, twirling his brown locks around your fingers. he licks into your mouth, meeting your tongue in a romantic dance. there’s no fight for dominance. there’s no urgency. it’s patient. it’s your entire bodies connecting, chests meeting. it’s all the emotions, all this relief collecting in the space where your lips touch. it’s the understanding that you have so much time, and it’s so warm.

[a-certain-romance]

Don’t be surprised when you get bent over

Characters/Ships: Ei, Miko, & Jean x fem!reader

Synopsis: You can’t avoid them forever <3

Warnings: Smut written by a minor, fingering (Miko), some somno (Ei), oral R receiving (Ei), overstimulation (Ei), teasing (Jean), face-sitting (Jean)

Ei wouldn’t call it an obsession. You’ve been slowly introducing her to Kamera mechanisms and she’s been hooked ever since. Her curiosity since her time spent with the traveler has been eye-opening, and as a surprise gift to Ei you went out and bought her one. She never really had much free time as it is, and now her hobby draws her to every small crevice of Inazuma. She finds herself accompanying her soldiers to various military camps or meetings with small villages, and not only do the experiences enhance her skills but it also becomes a way for Ei to re-familiarizes herself with Inazuma’s culture and landscape.

You support her, obviously, until it starts to keep her out of the bed. Despite her day time exploration the one thing you can always count on (unless she was on a long trip) was that she would meet you in bed and hold you until the both of you fell asleep. But now Ei is out in the middle of the night focusing on the stars, while you shiver in a bed that lacks Ei’s warmth.

Hatching a plan to get her attention was fairly simple; all it took was a lewd promise for her to come running. You spent the entire day out, not on the streets in the city but wandering around in the plains and cozying up to the wild foxes. You debated whether to not Ei would be home once the sun set, but then you remembered that tonight was supposed to be a full moon, and figured Ei would want to photograph that as well. You went to sleep early after finishing a meal prepped by the cooks and didn’t think of much else.

As you slept, you had the best dream about Ei. She tied you up to the bed posts and was eating you out as if she were starving for you. Her tongue felt so soft yet firm on your clit as she licked away at your cunt. And the best part was that it felt so real. Every swipe of her tongue left you feeling in so much bliss. But the sounds were getting echoey, and the spike of pleasure felt too good to be just a dream.

You opened your eyes to find that your arms were in fact restrained: wrists tied around in intricate little bows, just how long were you asleep? Your lower half remained free, but was extremely sore and sensitive. Ei’s arms hooked possessively around your legs, her head buried between them as the rest lay limp over her shoulders.

Your movement brings her back from her haze. Her lustful eyes, her cocky grin; fuck you can feel yourself dripping at just the sight of her.

“At last, you’re awake. You make the cutest expressions when you asleep, did you know that?” Those last few words were mumbled in your pussy, sending shockwaves of pleasure. Ei chuckles against you, “Though I suppose that is from my doing”

Her tongue moved around you, paying extra special attention to your sensitive clit. You whine and dig your heels into her back as you start to grind against her face. Your thrusts, almost automatically, start to speed up and soon Ei is licking up your mess.

Just as you’re catching your breath, Ei replaces her tongue with her fingers against your pussy lips. “I intend to keep you up til dawn,” Ei eyes bore into your own as she looks up at you from above your navel,

“A shogun doesn’t back down on her word”

Like Ei, Jean’s ignorance comes from a new hobby as well. You’ve noticed that Jean’s mental fatigue has been increasing for a while now. She’s been dealing with the stress in more physical ways: meditation, training, massages from you that sometimes lead to more. Yet she can’t shake off the feeling that wears her down at the days end.

You’re a library aide, training to become a librarian alongside Lisa. During one of your afternoon tea breaks she brings up the idea of reading. You dismiss it at first, Jean has always sighed that there was just not enough hours in the day for something like that, but after some consideration you took Lisa’s advice to heart. During one of her (forced) breaks you gifted Jean one of your favorites.

Suffice to say she was in and out of the Library nearly every other day. Jean feverishly flies through books every time she finishes another draining report. And every time she reaches the back cover you are always there to greet her when she comes in for a new one.

She’s been extremely invested in all these little worlds, but has slowly been less and less invested in your relationship. You’re extremely happy that Jean’s taking the time to nourish this new side of her, but sometimes she forgets to make the time for you too.

Jean can be rather clueless sometimes. It’s not as if you’ve tried to stop her, but she’s oblivious to the hints you drop. It’s been weeks since you’ve last been on a date, and the most interaction you get from her is when you see her at the library. Even when you’re back home, it’s like she’s a ghost, only ever feeling her presence when she’s nearby. And that’s if she has the energy to not collapse immediately she she hits the sheets.

The next time Jean comes in through those library doors you make sure to slip a note in the next book you give her.

Now you’re the one who’s occupied throughout the day. Even Lisa starts to question your spark of work ethic and Jean’s prolonged visits, but it’s the only time she can hope to catch you off guard since she’s so tired after a long days work. And there’s so many close calls, you would’ve let Jean take you against the tables had it not been for Lisa’s watchful eye.

Jean can’t take it anymore. She nearly lost it during this trip. Jean forced herself to sneak in before closing because one of her many library books, one that she nearly forgot about, was about to be due the next day, and she didn’t want to suffer Lisa’s wrath. But there was no Lisa in sight, just the two of you alone in the big, empty library.

Apologies spilled out of her mouth filled with promises to manage her time and attention better and begged, begged, for your forgiveness. You accept and become trapped as she bend you against one of the library tables.

Even though you were aching for her touch this was still your workplace, and the shame of cleaning up cum from the tables would embarrass you to no end, especially if Lisa happened to see. You walk home together and she spends that time teasing and discreetly touching you.

When you get home she pulls you flush against her chest and kisses your cheek sensually. Her hand hold the back of your neck gently as she twirls around a few baby hairs. Her mouth goes to your lips and you feel her tongue run along the bottom of your lip. The second you allow entrance she picks you up and carries you bridal style to set you down on the bed.

As she lays her weigh on top of you her knee presses right up against your heat. She pulls back to take a breath, and goes back in right after. It’s a slow make-out session, one that you weren’t expecting after how Jean’s been acting’s. You guide her hand to your panties but she stops short.

“In a rush, are we? Aren’t you forgetting we have all night?”

“We nearly did it at the library, I’m sure you’re as pent up as I am”

“Maybe so,” she says as she un-do’s the buttons of your shirt, “but it’s only fair after that stunt you pulled. I finally have you alone now, I want to make the most of it.”

She leans in to whisper in your ear, “If you cum before I say you can, there’ll be serious repercussions .”

She maneuvers you both so that you rest your pussy on her face. She lets you control the pace, control the rhythm and control how deep you want to go. But that statement was her only warning. And when your mind gets fuzzy from all the stimulation you forget about the rule, that one rule.

When you get back down to the mattress Jean is tsking.

“Looks like we really do have a long night ahead of us”

Yae Miko is such a tease

One second her hands are all over you as she whispers dirty things into your ear and the next, she’s laughing at your expression and walking away. She loves how you give into her so quickly. It made her wonder how you would fair if she were to cut off her affections all at once.

She’d cling to your arm in public and and act as if you were a stranger behind closed doors. Why? Her own curiosity of course. The psychology of humans will never not be of great entertainment for her. And, it’s been so long since she’s seen you so desperate.

You’ve had enough of her testing your resolve, so you decided to do the same. As Miko slept, you wrote a neat little message in an envelope and, in the morning, instructed a shrine maiden to deliver it to Miko. And once the plan was set in stone, you remain sure that bringing out Miko’s competitive side will make her end this whole…experiment.

You avoided that room like the plague. Despite her attempts to catch you off guard you know her well enough to predict her next move. Indoors it was like a game of chess, and outside a game of cat and mouse. This competition lasted for days. Both too stubborn to give in and both too filled with more tension than they can handle.

You came back home during the evening when you knew Miko was busy with shrine duties. You heard from an acquaintance that Miko was held up in her office with paperwork and would probably not finish until later.

Deciding to relax, you recline onto the bed for a break. You breathe in the sweet scent of Sakura blossoms from Miko’s pillow and realize how lonely the past few days have been. Sure, the competition and the tricks were sometimes fun but what you really missed was seeing the want in her eyes.

You pull off your shirt and unhook your bra, gasping at how the cool air brushes your nipples. You grope your breasts while thinking of the perfect, pink-haired Yokai who’s captured your heart. You imagine what it would feel like if she were here right now. Her touch is magnetic, you dream of it as you circle your finger around your nipple. The image of what Miko would do to you fills your mind and sends heat straight to your core. The hand that isn’t occupied with your boob grazes between your legs and you whine out “Miko”.

The door bursts open. “And so the mouse has been caught. You’ve surprised me, I did not think you would last for this long.“ She removes your hand and replaces it with you fingers.

“But I knew you had to come home eventually, and it seems the story I planted worked”. Her fingers begin to pump into you at a steady rhythm. “Turn around for me”

When you flip onto your stomach she slightly hovers over you, running her hands along your backside, admiring your beauty. “It’s been so long hasn’t it? Truth be told, I believe the wait makes it worth the while”. Her fingers return to your cunt and resume their thrusts, only much faster this time.

He fingers hit harder and deeper into you, sliding across all the right places. But before letting you finish she slows down her movements to an almost lazy pace. She simply laughs at your confusion, “You have all night to cum, why rush it?”

[essentiallyleaf]

day 14. underwater sex. with. kim chaeyeon.

1164 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, idol x male reader, girlfriend chaeyeon, life is hard, sometimes i want to escape, underwater sex, a little jealousy, semi-public sex, breeding, do i use periods too much?, i’m writer, so if you find any bad takes in here, i blame the characters (and one of them is you, so who’s really at fault here?), terrible pacing, zero setup, just a bunch of fluff followed by some smut.

notes.

tararì tararà. inspiredly, leaf.

That sea blue van would be your home for the summer. You bought it second-hand after you got out of high school, painted it the least bland color you could find, packed it with your stuff and started driving. “Your stuff” included, in no particular order: a big boombox, an empty backpack, two plastic leis, a portable stove, a skateboard, a panda onesie and a giraffe onesie, a Rubik’s cube, a ukulele, Luffy’s straw hat, a My Melody trousse and an array of colorful carpets and blankets. (Oh, and all those “you”’s stand for youse, of course. Isn’t this language a peculiar one, where it’s all you’s, whether they come in ones or twos?)

You like Europe, Chaeyeon likes the sea. Sounds like a perfect match. She loves standing with her head and upper torso out of the window on the rooftop, and opening her arms wide, the feeling of the wind between her hair, on her face. It’s fast and it’s present, it’s right now. You love to just turn The Japanese House up when she does that, and watch the sun set, or rise, or just stay up at its zenith, or rest from its hard work while the stars embellish the night sky like shiny little white gems on deep blue velvet. You obviously can’t see her face from the driver’s seat, but you can picture it exactly in your mind, and it’s beautiful.

There was no set route, no bulleted list with places to visit, every night you went to bed not knowing where you’d head the next day. Just drove on seaside roads for hours until you found a nice spot, then parked the van, set up on the beach, and spent the day there. Reading coming-of-age books, playing go, debating Miyazaki (Ghibli Miyazaki, not From Miyazaki; you like the magic of Spirited Away, she likes the rawness of Grave of the Fireflies, she says as far as stories go, you can never beat humanity; for the other one, you both agree it’s Bloodborne and it’s not even close).

One day in early July, you were somewhere between Alicante and Cartagena, the midday sun was hot but still bearable (they say the low humidity helps), the beach fairly empty. You went to the kiosk to get Chaeyeon an orangeade, the girl behind you in line said hi with a courteous smile and started talking to you about vegan sunscreen. When you got back and gave her the drink, she said she wasn’t thirsty anymore.

“Did something happen?”

“I don’t know, you tell me,” she answered while pouting.

“What’s this all about? Did I do something wrong?” You asked, confused.

“Nah, you probably did everything right, I mean, that pretty girl looked so over the moon as you were hitting on her.” A veil of jealousy coated her face.

“Hitting on her? Chae, that girl is as pretty as she’s uninteresting, you have no idea”

“Yeah?” She tried to hide her legitimate curiosity.

“I asked her what drew her to Spain and she was like, ‘I heard you can get really good tans’” Chaeyeon snorted. Not exactly your type.

You made aglio e olio pasta on the portable stove for lunch; your mom always used to put a little anchovy paste in it even though you didn’t like it, it was one of the many silly reasons why you thought you hated her in your early teens, now it’s somehow become a fond memory of her. After a couple hours of fairly silent crosswords and solitaires lying down in her blue one-piece swimsuit, you asked her:

“Wanna put our feet in the water?”

“M'kay. Not too long though, I gotta finish this sudoku”

Feet became knees became hips, and in two minutes flat the two of you were twenty-five meters away from shore, the water at the level of your nipples, which is the level of her chin. Not that you expected anything different, she loves the sea like that, she just can’t help it. You hugged and kissed her and one of your fingers found itself under the strap of her swimsuit.

“W-What are you doing?” She giggled, startled and excited.

“Sh-shh, no one can see us”

“You are such a horny dork”

The strap came off, the other followed soon after. As you pushed the top part of her one-piece below her boobs to fondle them, her laughs only made space for soft moans. One of your hands reached lower for her core, first above the blue fabric, then pushing it aside and starting to massage her lower lips. She mewled in your mouth as your thumb circled around her clit.

“Can you do this for me, baby?”

“Mmh-what?”

“Turn around”

You rotated her hips as she was now also facing the shore, only a few people in the water, none at close, or even moderate distance. You helped her bend over slightly, one hand at her shoulder, one around her waist as support. Her hands lowered your swim trunks and stroked your erection a couple times before guiding it to her slit.

“Can I?” you asked.

“Yeah, just fucking, don’t make it obvious”

“You should be the one worrying about that,” you teased as you pushed yourself in.

She whimpered at your penetration, the water simultaneously making the surfaces feel more slippery and the space in between them feel more stuffy. It was quite a different sensation, but certainly no less pleasing. As soon as you bottomed out in her, you pulled your hips back and immediately hit her ass with your pelvis again in a quick motion (she couldn’t contain a high-pitched whine, which fortunately didn’t overpower the sound of the waves building up and crashing onto the sand). Rinse and repeat.

Your palms quickly found themselves on her irresistible tits again as she looked for support with her hands behind your lower back and on your asscheeks. Seeing the two of you in that state surely wouldn’t have been flattering, but fortunately no one did. So you could continue to pound Chaeyeon’s pussy from behind as you groped her beautiful, soft mounds, stimulating her nipples with your fingers. Her moans getting louder and louder told you everything you needed to know.

“Where do you want it?”

“Fuh- Don’t waste it”

At those exact words, you emptied yourself deep in her, the walls around you tightening repeatedly as she hit her own orgasm. You wrapped your arms all around her as you gradually slowed your movements down, making sure her legs wouldn’t give up on her now.

“Can you piggyback me back there?”

“Not even pull your swimsuit back up? Such a slut, for real”

“Oh, I’m the slut? What about the guy who flirts with any vegan tan girl he sees?”

You stayed silent as pushed two fingers in her slit and gathered some of your cum before bringing them to her lips and letting her lick them clean.

“None of them get this”

-

footnotes.

feeling like driving now. peacefully, leaf.

[redjayson]

oh boy, now that chapter 17 is posted I can talk about some of the extras that I want to write in full at some point! since that’s rather far off in the future (and probably a lot of work when second-hand alibis still has its own Incredible Amount of Work left), have some quick and dirty snippets/ideas of what they might look like.

first one is a "su xiyan lives" spin-off:

exactly what it says on the tin. shen yuan makes a deal with the system (which would have to be somewhat less strict in this scenario) or he gets his hands on a macguffin or something and manages to make it to the luo river in time to help su xiyan through luo binghe’s birth and save her life afterwards

that, then, leaves them both desperately injured with a (somewhat unhappy) baby in the middle of winter when huan hua is undoubtably searching for them and their only allies probably think shen yuan and su xiyan betrayed them

shen yuan has the bright idea to lead them down the river to the washerwoman who was luo binghe’s adopted mother in proud immortal demon way. she’s kind enough to take them in, softened immensely by the baby and by how injured and grief-stricken shen yuan and su xiyan are

shen yuan and su xiyan slap up every (subtle) barrier and disguise and warding talisman that they can possibly think of to help hide them from any huan hua searchers, before collapsing from the expenditure of energy. shen yuan possibly uses his altered-but-no-longer-untested body-stasis talisman on su xiyan, who is predictably Not Amused by the recklessness of shen yuan having used this on himself, but it gives them more time to handle the poison while also allowing su xiyan’s qi to replenish itself and hold off the effects of the poison trying to kill her while they find an actual cure for it (assuming shen yuan's macguffin/system deal wasn't enough)

they both heal. they help around the house as much as possible, and gift the washerwoman with as much money as she’ll take from them, which is far less than she deserves for all the kindness she’s showing them. eventually, they’re healed enough to begin moving again, and they judge that it’s likely too dangerous to stay this close to huan hua any longer. 

before they go, though, there’s the matter of tianlang-jun. they debate for days—is it too dangerous to try and check on him? do they think zhuzhi-lang was sealed as well? what happens if they’re captured by huan hua? what will happen to binghe? (yes, luo binghe ended up with the same name as canon. shen yuan only suggested the “binghe” portion of the name, but su xiyan came up with and ran with the “luo” portion of it, because it’s far too conspicuous for a child to be running around with her surname, isn’t it? shen yuan, twin brother of shen qingqiu, keeps his mouth shut.)

in the end, they decide that they’ll take their chances now, while there’s still enough chaos and confusion from the end of the battle + setting up how the guard on tianlang-jun is going to look long-term for them to get close. better yet, if they can find zhuzhi-lang, then they won’t even have to get all the way to bailu mountain. 

whatever happens, it ends up being a bit of a mess. zhuzhi-lang is not happy, but shen yuan has spent years being one of his favorite people, and both he and su xiyan are still moving pretty gingerly when they manage to find him. in the end, zhuzhi-lang believes what they tell him about the betrayals committed against them, too, and agrees to carry the news to tianlang-jun (and plead their case, should he prove unwilling to listen).

after that…su xiyan and shen yuan beat feet out of huan hua territory, taking binghe (and possibly the washerwoman!) with them to live a life as rogue cultivators. cue years of sneaking back into bailu forest to visit zhuzhi-lang and tianlang-jun and try to figure out the best way to help tianlang-jun escape. shen yuan helps zhuzhi-lang get ahold of some sun and moon dew mushrooms, but warns that unless they experiment wildly and are also exceedingly lucky, the mushroom body will fail pretty quickly with a demon inhabitant instead of a human one. 

I imagine that this au would either end up as a su xiyan/tianlang-jun/shen yuan throuple, or zhuzhi-lang might finally shoot his shot with shen yuan and actually get somewhere with it. I lean toward su xiyan/tianlang-jun/shen yuan, just because there’s only so many times you can pretend to be married with a child, spending literal years working toward a common goal and in close proximity and with shared fondness, before you fall into an actual relationship. tianlang-jun is on board with this when it’s explained to him—shen yuan is great! (the wife-beam strikes again, it just took a little bit longer with tianlang-jun because he was so focussed on su xiyan)

also it’s deeply funny to imagine shen yuan reuniting with shen jiu (+ yue qingyuan) and cang qiong mountain sect and boldly gesturing toward binghe and declaring, “this is my son.” yeah, this carbon copy of su xiyan, with eyes that are notably not hers or shen yuan’s? suuure. the other peak lords aren’t going to argue, though, because shen qingqiu looks way too willing to fight them (read: yell at them) about it, and that’s almost never worth it. plus, like, what do they care? 

shen qingqiu, notably, doesn’t believe that luo binghe is shen yuan’s biological son, but apparently he is shen yuan’s adopted son (son by marriage?), so it’s really all the same thing. he’s doing some math about the tianlang-jun situation (as is yue qingyuan) and not liking the answers that he’s come up with, but if shen yuan wants to keep the child, then let him. better to allow a half-demon on his mountain than to lose his brother again. 

shang qinghua is losing his shit in the background. you did what with my protagonist’s parents?! my cabbages plot!!!

[chanlixsbabygirl]

What Was I Made For? | Lee Felix

Pairing: f!reader x Lee Felix Word Count: 1.4k Warning(s): angst (with a happy ending)

It was about a 2 hours drive from the west side of Seoul out to the coast. It was 2 hours of silence. Of just you and your thoughts. Seoul was huge, but the past few weeks, it had been suffocating you. It felt like you were living inside someone else’s play, and someone had put it all on hold.

You used to love the city. Love your job. Love all the people. But it had lost its sparkle. The daily stress of working with top-tier celebrities. Dating one. Slowly, your job had started to fade into the background. You were his girlfriend. That was what your life was now. Lee Yongbok’s girlfriend.

When you had moved to Seoul, you had known what you wanted. You wanted to work in the music industry. You wanted to be part of K-Pop. Not that you wanted to be onstage. You never felt the urge to be a trainee or to debut. But you wanted to be part of it. That was how you ended up working for JYPE and getting put in charge of managing the day-to-day details of the Stray Kids members. That was when you fell. It was almost instantaneous. You laid eyes on Lee Yongbok and you knew your heart was in his delicate hands.

Your one-sided swooning turned out to be not so one-sided. You asked to be moved to another group, to avoid a conflict of interests, and then he was yours. Or you were his. That was the more accurate way of seeing it. You were Lee Yongbok’s girlfriend. That was what almost anyone called you, unless addressing you directly. It started to feel like that was all you ever were. All you could ever be.

That was how you found yourself in the car, driving to a beach you had been to once a long time ago. Many tears were shed in the car. It felt so overwhelming. Everything you had worked so hard for was a footnote in the book that was Lee Yongbok and his record breaking career. You loved him. You always would. But these feelings had started tainting every waking moment, and even some of the blissful nights of sleep.

You hadn’t told him that you were going. You had put an overnight bag in the car and you had left his beautiful sleeping form in bed. He would be plenty busy while you were gone. This wasn’t something to worry him with. Not right now. He would plant it deep in his heart, and he would spend every ounce of himself trying to fix something he hadn’t even done himself.

Sitting on the beach, watching the waves break along the coast, you realized you didn’t know how to feel. You didn’t blame him. He had never tried to overshadow you and your accomplishments. Had never tried to take you away from your work. You were sure he had noticed the ever darkening of your mood. He was perceptive. Always worried about everyone around him.

You almost didn’t realize your phone was ringing. It was him. He was calling. You debated not answering, but that would cause more problems.

“Hey-”

“Where are you? I woke up and you were gone and your car was gone and your weekend bag was gone too. Did I do something wrong? If I did-”

“Lix? You didn’t do anything wrong. You never do anything wrong. I just…I needed to get out of Seoul for a day.”

“I would have come with you. You know they would understand if I needed the day off.”

“Felix, I know you would have. I needed to be alone.”

“I know you took your bag, but will you be home tonight?”

“No.”

“Where are you?”

“Y/N, where are you?”

“The beach. The one you took me to the first weekend we went away together.”

“I’ll pack and-”

“Don’t. I…just…stay in Seoul. Go to practice. You have a tour coming and-”

“I don’t give a fuck about that right now.”

“Please.”

After several more minutes of back and forth, he finally agreed to stay there. He made you agree to drive back first thing in the morning. You spent the rest of the day there at the beach, even waiting until after the moon and stars washed over you before driving to the small hotel you’d booked for the night. It was simple. Unlike the hotels you’d stayed at over the years when working with idols or when Yongbok had taken you for getaways and trips.

It was late when you got a short text. “I don’t know how to sleep alone anymore.”

You didn’t acknowledge the single tear rolling down your cheek as you stared up into the darkness. You still didn’t know what you were going to do. What you were going to say. How you felt. You felt cold all night, missing the warmth of the body that usually slept draped over you. It was a long night. Restless and unrestful.

It was even earlier than you had agreed on with your boyfriend when you left. As much crying as you had done on the way out to the coast, you did even more on the way back to Seoul. You cried for what you had gained and what you had lost and the things you held on to that felt so far out of reach.

He was still home when you turned your key in the door and pushed it open softly. His eyes were red, and there were dark circles beneath his pretty eyes. He didn’t even let the door shut before he was wrapping around you, taking up all of your senses. The past day had felt like a personal hell to him.

“Don’t ever, ever, do that again.”

“Let me explain…I know it won’t make everything better, but it might help.”

You sat on the couch and confessed every bottled up feeling that had swirled within you. The confusion and guilt and anger that you were his shadow. That you knew that he never wanted you to be his shadow, but that you were, nonetheless. You told him how the city that had once been open and wondrous and full of opportunity had slowly started to feel like a pretty cage that you had walked yourself into. That you had locked the door and thrown away the key yourself.

He cried. You knew he would. He was so sensitive. It was something you honestly admired about him. That he could wear his heart so openly on his sleeve. Here you were with every feeling you had felt trapped inside until the pressure became too much, and it exploded in a glorious and catastrophic mess.

“Lix, I don’t want you to blame yourself.”

“How can I not be to blame for this? This is all because of me?”

“No, it isn’t. You haven’t ever seen yourself as better or more important than me. You’ve always been Felix, andI’ve been Y/N, and we’ve been equal.”

“But-”

“You can’t control what other people do and say. You can’t control the picture that is painted of you, no matter how hard you try.”

“It’s not fair.”

“I know…I know, Lix.”

“Are you going to leave me?”

“What? No…no, I don’t think I’ll ever leave you, unless you tell me to.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise. I love you. I’ll always love you.”

“I want…I want to make this better.”

“Lix-”

“I may not have done this, but I didn’t do anything to stop it. I let you be seen as just my partner. Not yourself and your accomplishments. And I want to do better.”

And he did. When you came up in interviews, he always made sure you were called by name, made sure to talk about the things you had done and the things you had coming up. Stay had accepted you, but they had never really known you. Now you were asked questions about yourself when you met Stay, not just about your boyfriend. People congratulated you on reaching goals and successes.

The smiles slowly returned. Your ray of sunshine still lit up the dark days, but he didn’t have to light them all on his own again. You felt happy again. You felt like you could breathe again. You felt like a person, instead of an appendage. You felt like you had when Seoul was still new, and you were in love, and it was you and Felix, and everything was okay.

[thetxtdevil]

The Phlebotomist pt. 1

Yeonjun x Reader

summary: Phlebotomists are medical professionals who are trained to do blood draws. However, this phlebotomist is a vampire who stole your heart.

content: suggestive, blood duh, medical and bar setting, vampire yeonjun, human female reader, innocent reader, human world w/ mystical creatures

word count: 1.1k

Your nerves were on high, feet were bouncing annoying the person sitting next to you. You were in the doctors office for a check-up and agreed to do a blood test as part of your screening. Why did you agree to this you should've said no, you thought to yourself. The scent of the sanitized waiting room was giving you a migraine until you hear your name being called.

"y/n, l/n?"

You look up and froze. Why was a model in scrubs and why was he calling your name? The handsome man called your name again looking around for the patient. Then you remembered that you should get up. The man watches you stumble out of your chair and smiles to himself.

"Are you y/n? I am Yeonjun I'll be taking your labs today"

You nod and follow the model-like phlebotomist to another room.

"Here is your seat, I will be preparing the supplies"

You sat down on the chair and watch him as you roll your sleeves up. God he was beautiful, the maroon scrubs fit his toned body so nicely and went well with his raven black hair that outlined his sharp features.

"Are you nervous?"

You nod while Yeonjun admires your arm looking for a right spot.

"don't worry I have good aim" he winks

Your face was probably as red as your blood being drawn. Was he really flirting with you at this time?

Little did you know phlebotomist Yeonjun is a vampire. He is old enough in vampire years to know how to control himself along with humans. He stumbled upon a brochure advertising to become a phlebotomist, he was hesitant until he saw that all they do is to be around blood. He found that this job actually calms his urges to hunt and theres a program in the hospital that help mystical creatures like him. So he gets a discount on leftover donated blood bags something about "thank you for saving lives instead of killing them"

You take a deep breath as Yeonjun pokes your arm. You’re too nervous to notice him as he finds himself frozen by your scent. Yeonjun's pupils dilate over the sweet scent of your blood. Never in his years of doing this job did he get exhilarated by a patient.

yes it satisfied his needs but this…

this was different

Yeonjun continues doing his job debating whether he should prologue your visit or make you leave as fast as possible before he gets himself a trip to HR. As he bandages you up he takes one last look at you. Both of you stare at each other's eye for a while.

He thought you were as beautiful as you thought he was.

- - -

Days later you receive lab results claiming that you’re healthy, but there was one problem you were love sick. These days you were daydreaming about the handsome phlebotomist and wondered where could you find Yeonjun again.

As the love sickness continued you spent your days on the couch eating ice cream and watching random things on tv. Your phone explodes with messages from your friends inviting you to go bar hopping. A sigh of hesitation slips your mouth but you agreed to go to pass the time of one more lonely night.

Over the course of the night your group of friends became scattered as they found someone to sleep with or getting bored and went home. You were surprised how long you lasted. You guessed that the alcohol was doing its job of keeping your mind busy. Then, the lasting friends suggested to go to “Red Moon.”

You were nervous about the proposal. This was a bar for both mystical creatures and humans. Mystical creatures have become normalized in society, but they are still seen as potential danger. You were already scared of regular creeps, you were not ready to fight off a more powerful creep.

Your friends walk in the bar without a care in the world with you walking behind in in obvious terror. The dark bar was illuminated with red neon lights and was blasting music. Distracted by the diversity of humans and creatures you instantly loose your friends and now you pushed yourself into the corner of the bar for safety.

You look up to the bar tender who was obviously a werewolf and obviously judging you.

"Can I get a vodka cranberry, please?"

"Sure thing" the werewolf warmed up to you after the order.

As you were waiting for your drink, you feel hands on your waist and another's body against yours.

A deep voice whispers in you ear “Hello again y/n l/n”

You were about to smack the invader but stopped to realize the voice was familiar. Turning around you find the mystery voice belonged to the phlebotomist model. Yeonjun had a different aura about him. He looked more edgy and dark but still very handsome.

Yeonjun grabs your hand you were about to smack him with and stretches it out to see where he poked you with a needle.

He points at the sensitive area and says “see I told you I have good aim, barely a bruise”

You stare at him with a grin so entranced by the off-duty phlebotomist you comfortably left his body pressed against yours. Both of you stayed like that while talking and getting to know each other.

“So what are you doing in this bar”

“What do you mean?” Yeonjun relaxes his head into your neck.

“Isn’t this bar for creatures like werewolves, elves, pixies, a- and…”

You have a hard time finishing your sentence when you feel his lips against your neck.

“Vampires” he says while raising his head to look at you.

You nod looking at yeonjun closer. That’s when you noticed his eyes were now a dark shade of red and his smirk revealed long sharp fangs. You shivered at the sight and blush appeared on your cheeks. This reaction increased the delectable scent Yeonjun has been thinking about since he met you in the clinic.

"You... you're a vampire?"

"Yes, is that a problem?" he leans towards your face.

You two stare into each others eyes like before. Yeonjun's red eyes switch from your eyes to your lips.

"You've never been with a vampire before have you?"

You shake your head no. You move a hand to reach for his neck pressing down to find the lack of pulse. The cold touch was enough to clarify your discovery. This made the man shiver.

"How about you take me home and you'll find out what its like being with a vampire, hmm?" he says as he grasps your hand.

He's cocky yet still a gentleman. You turn around asking the bartender for a shot of vodka. You down it, leave a tip, and turn to Yeonjun again.

"Let's fucking do this"

part 2 -> link

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil

[celestial-toys]

That I Would Be Good [1/5]

How to Help

You take note of the two people on this couch with you. These innocent lives you brought into this awful world, with no thought given to the consequences. Stereotyped them down into boxes and expected a perfect fit—naive enough to think you could bring a fantasy to life.

You really want to apologize for falling into the business of playing God.

- - - - - - -

In This Chapter

Moon attempts to care for you as you do a little bedrotting.

The boys debate over taste in entertainment as you cry over work stress.

Much to Sun's chagrin though it all may be, you're saved from a potential night spent sleeping with your dog on the cold, hard hallway floor.

Pairing: Sun x Moon x Reader

Word Count: 5,174

Contains: [AU - Real World] [depiction of depression] [crying] [arguing] [an episode of vertigo] [tension] [fear]

A/Ns: This is a songfic. Lyrics and title are from 'That I Would Be Good' by Alanis Morissette.

This fic is part of my AU “[Not] Made by Design”, the full series can be found here.

Lastly but certainly not least, this fic is dedicated to my friend Adrianna @roses-and-tears, whom I’ve been teasing with the existence of this fic for far too long. Thank you for your patience as I took my sweet time on this, and thank you for your patience with me in general. Your friendship means a lot to me, as does your endless support of my writing. I’m really grateful to have you in my life. Happy Birthday, Adri. 💛

That I would be good even if I did nothing.

Late afternoon sunlight slips through the slim crack between the drawn curtains covering your balcony doors. Over the past hours you’ve absently watched it grow from a bright yellow at noon to a vibrant orange now, the thin line cast across your bedsheets growing longer as the sun slips lower and lower. It serves as the only illumination in the room, all of your various lights and screens turned off in an effort to pretend that it’s an acceptable hour to be miserably curled up in bed, ignoring the world.

The occasional soft, muffled sounds of various housework being done by your—rightfully concerned, you suppose, yet surprisingly concerned, if you’re being honest—partners prevents you from ignoring the entire world, though. The subtle reminder that they’re here with you, that the house isn’t really empty, serves as a comfort that you aren’t sure you deserve. A small part of you wishes you truly were alone again, so at least you’d have a good reason to feel this way. You’d certainly feel less guilty about it too.

To their credit, they’ve handled this episode pretty well. Giving you space when you request it and proximity when you need it. Checking in on you. Keeping you clean, hydrated, and fed to the best of their ability in spite of your reluctance.

You just wish you could pull yourself out of this already.

You have work to do.

The mere thought of all that you’ve fallen behind on has you reaching up, grabbing at the corners of your pillow and tugging them down over your ears, eyes pinching closed in desperate avoidance.

Through the pillow you barely pick up on the muffled sound of soft knocking at your door.

You sigh, and manage a weak acknowledgment. “Yeah?”

Moon’s low voice rumbles through the barrier. “May I come in?”

You cough, clearing your parched throat. “...Yeah.”

The door swings open slowly and you squint, expecting the sting of the bright hallway light to hit, but it never does. You crack an eye open, releasing your hold on the pillow and tilting your head to watch him enter.

Your voice comes out more aggravated than you intend it to sound. “We got a bulb out in the hallway or something?”

Moon pauses halfway through closing the door behind him, his monitor swiveling around to face you. “Hmm?”

You clarify. “The light’s off out there.”

Understanding straightens the scrunched lines on his display that serve as his eyebrows. “Oh, no. The lights are fine, I just…” His monitor swings back around to align with his body as he gently pushes the door closed. “I’ve gathered that it hurts your eyes.”

The door quietly clicks shut and the light of his screen dims, adjusting its brightness to match that of the room. “The contrast, I mean. It being so bright out there when the bedroom is… so dark.”

A look, half-guilt and half-apology tugs at your features as you watch him approach the bed. “I’m sorry…”

His monitor clicks about 20 degrees to the right. “What for?”

His question is spoken so softly, so gently, and if you didn’t know better you’d almost believe that he really can’t think of anything you’d have to apologize to him for.

You know that couldn’t be further from the truth, though.

You’re about to acknowledge his ironic disdain for the darkness, but as you watch him reach down and experimentally lift the still-full bottle of water he refilled for you some odd hours ago, you pause. As his neutral expression curls into a small frown, you realize you should apologize for that, too. Your mind quickly offers up more and more things that you should apologize for, and within seconds your eyes are welling up with tears.

“Everything…” you say as you blink, letting them roll along your temples and—annoyingly—into one of your ears.

His monitor turns halfway toward you, but his false eyes don’t follow the motion, still locked on the bottle of water he’s thoughtfully swirling in his hand. His real eye must take in the state of you though, either that or his mics picked up on the emotion in your voice, because he passes the bottle into his left hand before turning and gesturing down toward the mattress with his right. “May I sit next to you?”

You nod, knowing he can see the motion even in the dim light, and you shift a bit from your dent in the mattress for the first time in… well, probably since Sun poked his proverbial nose in here an hour or two ago to make sure you were still breathing. Begrudgingly, you haul yourself up into a somewhat-vertical position, knowing if you don’t do it now Moon will coax you into it soon anyways. You pull your long sleeve down over your hand and use it to wipe at a few wet tear tracks.

Moon settles himself down on the mattress next to you, gently helping to pull away the sheets just enough to free you from your blanket prison as you halfheartedly reposition yourself. He rests the bottle on his left knee, monitor turning toward his right to face you.

“I don’t think that’s necessary. I think… a lot of the things you apologize for don’t even need one in the first place, and as for the things that do need one… well, you’ve already given them and I— …we’ve already accepted them.”

You sigh. “I wish it were easier for me to believe you.”

His tone has an edge of resignation, or… defeat, in it when he replies. “...So do I, star.”

His simulated breath deepens a bit and in the quiet of the room you hear his cooling system kick down a notch due to his shift into physical inactivity. He passes the water bottle into his right hand, his gaze flicking down toward it and then up to you. “Can you take a sip of this for me, please?”

Now that you’ve actually tried to speak and realized how… gross your mouth feels, you take it from him without reluctance and take not one but several sips, greedily downing it as your body finally recognises its thirst.

Settling the bottle in your lap, you shake your head a bit at his offered hand. “I’ll hold onto it for now… thank you.”

You steal another glance up at his monitor and see a small, unexpected smile and kind crescent eyes. “Of course.”

As his hands fold neatly in his lap, you question him. “Is Sun mad at me?”

His expression fades back into one of concerned confusion. “Why do you think that?”

You shrug and take another sip of your water, downplaying your explanation. “…Dunno. Just feels like that sometimes.” You think for a moment. “I wouldn’t blame him for it if he was. Wouldn’t blame you either.”

Moon’s display swivels side to side on its axis, shaking his head in disagreement. “I don’t think he is. I mean… you know Sun. He’s cold. Not as much as he once was, but still colder than I am, at least. Distant. Quiet. But… I don’t believe that he’s mad.”

He shifts, leaning back against the headboard and stretching his legs out across the length of the bed, crossing them as he releases an imitation of a breath. Angling his screen back toward you, he whispers, “You wanna know what I think?”

You nod, eyes widening in curiosity.

“I think he’s just as worried about you as I am. He just doesn’t know how to show it, or what to even do with such an emotion in the first place.”

You frown, your mind automatically finding yourself at fault. “I—I did my best to train your AIs identically… I don’t—I don’t know what happened with his emotional processing—”

Moon cuts you off, redirecting your attention with a gentle hand on your arm. “That’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean to blame you. AIs…” his voice and expression both turn playful, “…we’re a dangerous thing. You never truly know how we’re gonna turn out.” He nudges your shoulder with his, and you fight back a tiny laugh.

A comfortable sort of silence falls over the dark room, and you break it with one more quiet question. “…What’s he doing right now?”

“Same thing as Zero is, actually. Sleeping.”

His features dissipate, display changing as he pulls up an image he’d apparently taken of the dog and the bot sprawled across the couch. You huff a laugh at the sight of the two of them attempting to fit together.

“He told me he was up all night, but wouldn’t elaborate on why. So I wasn’t very shocked when he crashed in the living room and asked me to bring him his cable earlier.”

You sigh and look away, half-amused and half-stressed. The image fades, Moon’s default expression taking its place. You take another swig from your bottle before leaning back and to your left, the pillow behind you sliding along the headboard until you’re pressed against Moon’s side. “I wish he wouldn’t strain his battery like that. Gonna have to bring him in for a premature replacement at this rate.”

Moon nods, humming a quiet concurrence as he raises an arm, carefully wrapping it around your shoulders, your silent request for comfort heard loud and clear.

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

Neither of you ever got an answer as to what had kept Sun up that night. But, if you’d been able to look inside his mind and see his most recent activity, you’d have found a messy assortment of browser tabs, each one’s title containing the keywords “depression” and “how to help.”

That I would be good even if I got the thumbs down.

You’re settled atop Sun’s lap on your too-small couch, back comfortingly pressed against his chest, legs stretching out across the cushions to rest on Moon’s thighs. He’s the only one out of the three of you that’s actually sitting on the couch properly, Sun instead opting for his usual lengthwise position, one arm draped along the back of the couch and the other wrapped around your waist.

One advantage of his mechanical body is that he can keep his head twisted 90 degrees to the left, facing the TV for as long as he’d like and never know the pain of a sore neck.

He seems just as invested in what’s on the TV as Moon is, and if the repetitive shifts in lighting and audio are anything to go by, you’re willing to bet they’re having another silent argument over what to watch. Too absorbed in the game on your phone to be bothered by the inconsistent ambiance, you brush aside the stray thought to remind them that they could each just watch their own show in their HUDs instead of fighting over the big screen. Their strange insistence on adhering to the “human” way of doing things is something for you to psychoanalyze another time.

You half-listen to the TV as it switches back and forth between what sounds like BBC Earth, and The (ironically named) Learning Channel, taking note of the way Sun’s body warms. His cooling system audibly kicks in, and the creator in you takes immediate notice, the attention to your phone waning as your concern over Sun’s internal temperature rises.

You pause your game, pulling in a breath as you prepare to interject on whatever silent argument is getting him so heated, but they beat you to the punch, their internal exchange suddenly becoming external.

“—Because we’ve seen it before! I already know everything I could possibly need to know about crabs!” Moon’s voice cuts through the background noise and you flinch a bit at its sudden volume.

Sun’s curled fingers splay out flat across your stomach, apparently trying to calm you and argue with Moon at the same time. “It’s not about knowledge! It’s about the implications! The metaphor!”

Moon’s monitor pivots away from the TV and over to Sun, his volume lowering a bit as his optics pass over your form curled against Sun. “What implications?”

You twist around a bit to get a glance at the screen when the narrator says something that catches your ear.

“Our spy becomes the crab's defender.”

The three of you turn and watch as a robotic imitation of a crab serves as a mechanical wall of defense between a vulnerable, soft shelled crab and a hungry stingray.

You feel Sun’s arm tighten around you.

Confused and unimpressed, Moon turns back toward his solar counterpart. “Mhm, that’s lovely, Sun, but what does it have to do with us?”

Sun’s volume drops as you feel his body mimic a sigh. “More than your stupid ‘Thousand Coupons and Counting’ show does, that’s for sure…”

You feel your phone buzz in your hand, the darkened screen lighting up once again and drawing your attention away from Moon’s rebuttal.

“Oh, come on, that’s not even the name...”

Their petty quarrel quickly becomes background noise as your focus zeroes in on the message preview in your notifications.

[ Hey, sorry to bother you at such an hour, but I finally had time to relay your most recent proposed alterations to the client’s requested design… ]

Your stomach drops as you tap to open the message and are met with a bullet point list of complaints and questions relayed from the client through one of your colleagues. You’re grateful that your team has a dedicated customer relations department because if you had to communicate with this particular client directly, you may be out of a job.

Your mood quickly grows sour and defeated as you scan over the list of criticisms, your colleague’s addition of a sympathetic [😕] at the end of their message doing little to soften the blow. You’ve spent countless hours trying to find work-arounds and alternatives to this client's unrealistic requests, the head of your team insistent that you find a way to please them lest you cost the company a “substantial potential profit.”

Clenching your jaw, you fight to keep a level head. You fight the urge to type out a hasty response, one you know would be full of childish, whining complaints about the inconvenient timing and the client’s unrealistic demands. You then fight the subsequent urge to just turn your phone off, and maybe hurl it through a window for good measure.

“Why would we need to know that? When will we ever need to afford fifteen 2-liters of Mountain Dew and ten jugs of Tide on a tight budget?! Who shops like that?!” Sun’s rapidly rising voice is enough to finally break through your swirling thoughts. The sound of your boys arguing, as ridiculous as the topic may be, only adds fuel to your emotional fire.

You fight the urge to cry, and you fail.

Clicking your phone screen off, you curl further in on yourself and press your temple against the back cushion of the couch. Moon’s voice dies down halfway through his retort, his attention quickly drawn to your sudden display of emotion. Sun’s focus falls on you at the same time, his sensors instantly picking up on the shift in your breathing and increase in your heart rate.

Moon’s body shifts, turning toward you and leaning closer as the hand he’d had resting on your knee begins to pet up and down the length of your shin in a gentle bid for your attention.

Sun aggressively whispers to Moon as the hand he’d had resting on the back of the couch comes down to hover anxiously over your head. “You idiot, look what you did!”

Moon mirrors his hushed tone. “What I did? You’re the one being unreasonable!”

You shake your head and clear your throat before cutting in. “This isn’t… about that.”

Sun’s hand comes down to awkwardly pet down your hair as you lean away from where you’d head-butted the couch cushion. “What… is this about then? What upset you?”

You turn your head, pressing your chin against your shoulder to dry the tears that had trailed down and converged there. You internally debate over how to explain yourself before giving up shortly after, opting instead to silently pull the message back up on your phone and hand the thing to Sun for him to read.

He takes in the message’s contents with typical robotic speed before handing the phone over to Moon, an unreadable expression on his display. Moon scrolls back up, reading the list of complaints and releasing a sigh as he hands the phone back to you. “They’re being unreasonable.”

You nod in agreement, releasing a sigh of your own. “Can’t tell ‘em that, though.”

Your words hang in the air as a contemplative silence falls over the room, and it’s then that you idly note that one of them must have muted the TV at some point. With their debate over taste in entertainment quickly drawn to a close, you suddenly feel guilty. “I’m sorry…”

“What for?” Sun’s voice questions over your shoulder.

“Ruining another evening…”

Moon scoffs, his retort lighthearted with a dose of rare sarcasm. “Oh, of course! How dare you interrupt our ‘important’ television debate with your silly little real-world problems.”

You glance at him, cracking a small smile, but it doesn’t last. Sighing, you lean further back into Sun, letting your head fall back until it’s resting on his shoulder. From the corner of your periphery, you see his head pull back and tilt down to get a better look at you.

“It’s not even just this one client, it’s… I mean- it is, but… fighting over what is and isn’t possible… nowadays it just reminds me of how I fought with the team over your designs. Reminds me of all the ways that I let you down. All the ways I failed you.”

You watch a frown form on Moon’s display, and you’re about to apologize for dredging up the past again, but Sun’s hands are quick to distract you. Reaching down and around you, he takes the phone from your hand, moving slowly enough to give you time to resist his attempts should you choose to. Meeting no resistance, he cradles the phone in your lap, and watching over your shoulder, opens the message once again and begins typing out a response.

[ Please remind them that while we are always eager to please, there are certain limitations to what sorts of ideas we can bring to life. Link them to our Product Design FAQ page if you haven’t already. I’ll review their comments and look into potential alterations first thing Monday morning, when our business hours resume. Thank you. ]

Moon’s curiosity got the best of him, leaning across the length of the couch to get an upside-down look at the phone screen. Rotating his faceplate 180 degrees, he hums in approval before leaning back, head slowly completing a 360 and righting itself once again.

Sun’s thumbs pull away from the keyboard and he requests your approval in a low voice. “That sound good?”

You want to ask him why he’s helping you. You want to ask Moon why he isn’t mad. You want to ask them why you’re even still employed, why you even deserve the job you’re apparently so bad at. You want to apologize for everything under the sun.

You take note of the two people on this couch with you. These innocent lives you brought into this awful world, with no thought given to the consequences. Stereotyped them down into boxes and expected a perfect fit—naive enough to think you could bring a fantasy to life.

You really want to apologize for falling into the business of playing God.

But you don’t. You re-read the message and let out a soft, resigned sigh, nodding. “Better than any response I’d be able to come up with tonight. Thank you.”

You raise a hand, tapping the send button, and then watch as Sun puts your phone on do not disturb before clicking it off once more. You point to the coffee table and he places it there, and Moon reaches for the TV remote at the same time. As you quietly readjust yourself in Sun’s hold, Moon offers you the remote with a soft question. “What would you like to watch?”

That I would be good if I got and stayed sick.

Flicking the light off, you make your way out of the bathroom and down the hall. Zero trails directly behind you, the dog insistent as always that you be accompanied on the long, arduous journey from the bedroom to the bathroom and back.

Perhaps, this time she could sense something that you couldn’t, because no more than a few steps into your short trip back, something quickly begins to feel… off. Closing your eyes and coming to a halt in the middle of the hall, you feel your stomach drop as you register the dreaded, familiar feeling of the world starting to spin around you.

Attempting a deep breath, you open your eyes and immediately regret it, disoriented and beginning to grow a bit panicked at how quickly this came over you. Muttering a soft “fuck… not again…” you reach out, placing a hand on the wall in an attempt to steady yourself. You try to at least make it back to the bedroom, but a terribly familiar hint of nausea makes itself known, and you suddenly aren’t sure if you should try for the bedroom or the bathroom.

Your body ends up deciding for you, a wave of lightheadedness teaming up with the dizzying sensation and quickly convincing you that taking a seat right where you are isn’t such a bad idea. As you slowly slide down the wall, butt thumping against the floor, you shakily call out. “Guys?”

Within five seconds, two round screens with wide digital eyes peek out from the bedroom’s open doorway. Stumbling over one another to get out of the room as soon as they see you on the floor, they question you in tandem. “What happened?!”

Clearing the short distance in a few strides to reach you, they both crouch down, one on each of your sides, Zero nervously pacing back and forth between them.

“I… I don’t know. It just hit me again out of nowhere.”

Moon’s faceplate clicks back and forth rapidly, a few degrees to the right, then a few degrees to the left. You close your eyes again, unable to look at him for long. You don’t have it in you to tell him that the motion itself is a dizzying sight. Sun seems to gather as much from his quiet observation, reaching out and roughly pinching the edge of Moon’s display, bringing the lunar bot’s anxious fidgeting to an abrupt halt.

“Vertigo?” Sun wastes no time in getting straight to the point, as usual.

You press your head back against the wall with a quiet groan. “Uhuh.”

“Can you tell us what—exactly—you’re feeling right now?” Moon questions you softly as he subtly struggles to pry Sun’s iron grip off of his head.

“Uhh… dizzy… lightheaded… getting kinda nauseous…”

Sun’s hand gravitates toward its favorite spot—that being around your neck—and since you don’t see it coming, you flinch.

He sighs, thumb finding its home on your pulse. “…It’s just me. You should know by now that I’m not gonna hurt you.”

You huff a humorless laugh in spite of your current state. “Yeah, well, I should know a lotta things by now.”

Sun doesn’t humor you with a snarky response, too focused on the current matter at hand. “Your pulse is pounding. Fast.” He’s quiet for a beat before tacking on a question. “Do you not feel it?”

You scoff. “Of course I do, Sun. I’m just used to it. It’s just doing that ‘cause I’m…” you hesitate, but honesty slips out of you rather easily in this state, “...scared.”

Concern seeps into his voice. “Of me?”

This time there’s a bit of humor in the laugh that he draws out of you. “No, Sunny… not you. Not this time.” You press the heels of your hands into the floor, searching for something grounding. “...It’s this. I’m scared of this. Whatever’s happening to me.”

Moon chimes in. “It’s gonna pass. It always does.” He places a hand on your knee. “And we’re right here. Gonna help you through it, just like always.”

You dare to crack your eyes open again, and find his screen blessedly still, light dim. “Still scares me though… don’t know why it’s happening.”

Sun retracts his hand from your neck. “We’ll figure it out. First priority is getting you situated somewhere more suitable. Do you want to go back to bed?”

You mull it over, wishing your nausea would decide to either get worse or get gone already so you could make up your mind. “I… wanna get back in bed, but… I don’t know if this nausea is gonna get worse or not.”

Sun almost shakes his head, but stops just short of it, not wanting to mirror Moon and make things worse. “You know we have a bucket dedicated to solving that very problem, so you can cross that off of your list of concerns. Besides, if it gets worse and you change your mind, we can always take you to the bathroom, easily.”

Sighing, you allow his reasoning to override your anxious, indecisive mind. “Yeah… okay. That’s fine by me, as long as you’re sure you don’t mind.”

Moon answers for both of them. “Of course we don’t.”

Sun leans back on his heels. “If that was the only thing keeping you, then why don’t we move this to the bedroom?”

In spite of your current state, you can’t help but crack a smile, unable to resist the opportunity to tease him. “Goodness, Mr. Sun. Too eager to even buy me dinner first?”

It takes the solar bot a moment to process the implications of your words, but the way the concerned expression on his face swaps to an empty black screen is enough to tell you that he got the joke—and that perhaps—he didn’t like it.

His voice comes out deadpan as he suddenly stands, distancing himself from you in more ways than one. “Ha-ha, very funny. If you’re feeling well enough to joke around then perhaps you don’t need my help after all.”

Moon grabs ahold of Sun’s ankle as he attempts to walk away, mirroring the iron grip the solar bot had recently had on him. “Come on, Sunny, don’t be like that…”

Sun gives a sharp tug on his leg, but Moon’s grip doesn’t relent. Even without a face nor a voice, you can still sense him silently telling Moon to not test him. You know better than almost anybody that their physical strength is perfectly matched to one another. They could stay locked in a stalemate until their batteries died if either of them truly desired it.

As amusing as it may be to push Sun’s buttons, even you know when something’s about to go too far, so you make the call to break it up. “Ah, let him go, Moon. He’s put up with enough of my shit for one night.”

Moon releases his counterpart, and Sun mutters a quiet “That’s right.” beneath his breath, striding back into the bedroom.

Zero yawns into a whine.

You shakily reach a hand up to pet her and she bends down, slipping her head beneath it. Your voice is something close to jaded when you address the quiet lunar automaton still crouched beside you. “Well, now that I’ve successfully put everyone in a bad mood, I suppose it’s time for bed, huh?”

He’s his usual understanding self when he replies. “I know it wasn’t intentional, star.”

“Yeah, but… I know he’s sensitive. Should really get around to repairing that brain-to-mouth filter of mine one of these days…” You trail off, making an effort to stand, and regret it quite quickly as the world starts to spin again.

Moon’s hands brace you instantly, and a soft request fills your ears as you clamp your eyes shut again. “Let me carry you instead?”

“...Please.”

“Of course.”

The three of you make your way back to bed, and in spite of Sun’s previous statement implying he wouldn’t help you, you notice the way the room is already prepared for you. Bed sheets straightened, pillows situated, lights dimmed as low as they can go. The movie you’d paused is no longer waiting on the TV screen, the device having been fully turned off, and you know that Sun must’ve read somewhere that bright, flashing, moving images on screens can make your symptoms worse. (Who’d’ve guessed.)

He slips back out of your closet as Moon places you down in the center of the mattress, your just-in-case bucket dangling from his hand. His hands settle on his hips after he places it down near the nightstand, still-blacked-out monitor swinging slowly, surveying the room.

“Last time this happened, crackers and water seemed to take the edge off. Would you like to try that again? Do you think you can stomach it?”

He doesn’t mention his (over)reaction in the hallway, and you elect to drop it too.

“I… yeah. Guess I’ll try anything that might help.”

He’s out of the door and off to the kitchen immediately, and back with both items in hand by the time Moon gets you both settled in bed. Moon holds your water and you take the crackers as Sun takes his seat on the other side of you, Zero curling up at your feet. Your shaky hands fiddle with the packaging for a moment before black and yellow segmented fingers hover over your own. You pause, and Sun makes quick, silent work of parting the wrapper. You offer up a quiet “...thanks…” that receives no verbal reply.

A few crackers and a quarter cup of water later, you’re relieved to find your symptoms beginning to ease. It’s no magical cure, but you feel more stable than you did on your own out in the hallway, where you honestly might’ve slept had you been left to your own devices.

Two of Moon’s fingers press against your inner wrist. “Hmm… better, but not back to baseline. Are you still scared?”

You’re quiet for a minute, trying to search for the source of your fear. “Scared… that this is gonna keep happening at random, forever.”

Moon is quick to reassure you. “I’m confident that we’ll work out the root cause of these episodes one day.”

You mumble defeatedly through a mouthful of chewed cracker. “I sure fuckin’ hope so.”

Of course, it’s only once you’re content to let silence fall over the room that Sun speaks.

“You don’t need to fear it regardless. Even if this is with you forever. Because…” he releases a sigh, full of reluctance, but finishes his sentence nonetheless, “...it’s not like we’re going anywhere either.”

A/N: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. I'll be back tomorrow with part 2! You can also find my notes and commentary on this fic right here on Ao3. Links to the playlist and moodboard for [N]MbD can be found on this blog’s pinned post, as well as in the series notes on Ao3. Header Image Sources: x - x - x

[forgedroyalseal]

Life a bit the the left

Chapter 1

TW: abuse, alcoholism, ptsd

The sound of a shattering plate drew a heavy sigh from Will. He sat back from the broken door hinge he had spent all evening trying to repair.

“Dad?” He called, hoping that the plate had just slipped. That his father was coherent enough to take care of it himself. The silence suggested otherwise. Will stood and made his way quickly to the kitchen where clay shards covered the floor in a half moon around his father.

“Dad, are you ok? Are you hurt?” Will approach him slowly, voice soft. His father just groaned, which, for a typical person, would normally indicate an injury, but for his father could mean anything. There were times when Daniel would be nonverbal for weeks on end, and other times he’d rant and ramble endlessly. Will scanned his father for signs of blood. There was a small gash that ran the length of his thumb.

“You have a cut on your hand dad. I’m going to wrap it with my handkerchief, ok? It might hurt a little but I need to stop the bleeding.” Will had gotten into the habit of narrating his actions after spooking his dad and being slammed into the floor one too many times. For a man who didn’t do much beyond drink and sit in his armchair, Daniel Blackwood was still as strong as ever. Will was praying for the day he’d finally hit his long awaited growth spurt and be able to handle his dad‘s outbursts without ending up black and blue.

Once Daniel’s hand was taken care of, Will guided him to the armchair and tended to the fire, before returning to the kitchen to sweep up the fragmented plate. He wasn’t sure how the plate ended up on the floor. His father never ate without being prompted, and it had been years since Will had allowed alcohol into the house. There wasn’t a reason for Daniel to be in the kitchen, but then again, there was never a reason for the things he did. Or at least, never a reason Will understood. Will considered preparing something for dinner since he was already in the kitchen, but the ache in his stomach was too mild for him to justify wasting the little food they had. Tomorrow, the ache would be a roar and he’d have no other choice. Tonight he’d be ok.

Later that evening as he laid awake in bed, he heard the latch on the front door click and he pulled his worn blanket tighter. He hated this. Hated that he was laying here and was just letting his father leave. Letting him make his way to the tavern. Letting him drown himself in drink. Letting him stumble home at dawn by himself. Will knew that a better son would stop him. Or follow him. But Will wasn’t a good son, he was a selfish one. So he let the door swing shut and he forced his eyes to close. He had to sleep. He had work in the morning and god knows he doesn’t get anywhere near enough food to give him the energy he’ll need to work in the fields from dawn until dusk.

His father was home by the time Will woke. The acidic stench of vomit warned him to watch his step when he opened his bedroom door. He stepped over his unconscious body that laid across the hall. Beside him, a pool of watery vomit. Will debated what’re or not he should drag his father into his bed, but a bitter voice in his chest told him to leave him. The voice had been getting louder and louder recently, only being drowned out by the voice in his head telling him what an awful son he was. They were at a constant war with each other, his head and his heart. His heart won this morning, as he left his father on the floor next to his vomit. Will knew he’d have to clean the floor later. It would never occur to his father to do it himself. He probably wouldn’t even realize it was there. Will should just clean it now, if he leaves it the stench will linger and the acid will stain the wood. But Will was tired and hungry and already done with the day. All he wanted to do was slip back under his blanket and shut the door on the world forever. But he couldn’t. Because he was already late and if he lost another job, he wasn’t sure he’d have the energy to find another one. So the vomit would have to wait.

///

“Blackwood! Drop the shovel and get up here.” The steward barked as he approached Will, flanked by two knights. Will clambered out of the trench he had been working in.

“Sir.” Will hunched down slightly. The steward had no entitlement to a bow, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel he was owed one from the likes of Will.

“These men were looking for you. I thought it best to bring them to you myself.” He didn’t even attempt to hide his smirk. The steward had had it in for Will since he took over for Matthew, the previous steward, two weeks ago.

“Will Blackwood?” The knight on the right asked.

“Yes. What can I do for you Sir?”

The other knight took hold of Will’s arm. “You’re to come with us.”

If Will was hoping for an explanation, it was clear none of these men thought he was owed one. And he wasn’t. They outranked him, as did nearly everyone in Redmont.

The moment the knights turned their, and in doing so Will’s, backs to the steward, the man called out, “Don’t bother coming back Blackwood. I won’t have a trouble maker under my watch.”

Will twisted in the knight’s grasp. “No please! I didn’t do anything. I need this job. Please sir, please don’t do this, I didn’t do anything.” Will’s words caught and cracked in his throat. He knew he sounded pathetic but he didn’t care.

“Enough boy.” The steward rose his hand and Will flinched back.

Will sagged, the knights on either side of him now holding him up. The steward would never recant his decision. “You owe me my wages for this morning’s work.” He muttered.

This time the raised hand wasn’t just a threat. The slap stung across Will’s cheek and he bit his tongue to stop himself from crying out.

“Consider it my payment for having to put up with you.” Glancing at the knights he said, “Please remove this boy from the property.”

The walk to Castle Redmont was long. Will’s hands were bound and tethered to one of the knight’s horses. He was dragged along by his new found leash like a dog. Nobody paid any mind to him though. Few villagers even knew his name, and the ones that did didn’t concern themselves with his general well-being.

///

Whatever Will had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t to be brought right through the heavy wood and iron doors of Redmont and delivered to the grand hall. The Baron sat on a chair that was embellished and upholstered with red and gold. It had never occurred to Will that a chair could be beautiful, he was lucky if his chair had even legs, but that’s what this chair was. A beautiful chair in a beautiful room. Will was suddenly embarrassed of his appearance. His poorly patched, threadbare clothes and his dirt covered hands and his general dirtiness. He felt as though he was tainting the grand hall by simply standing in it.

There was a man in common clothes who stood in front of the Baron. They seemed to be discussing something, but from the other side of the hall, Will couldn’t make out their words. Baron Arlad glanced up and noticed Will standing with the knights.

“Ah, you’re here. Please come in.”

Will obeyed the Baron’s beckon, not eager to give the knights another opportunity to drag him around. The closer he got, the clearer it became who the other man was. Barrow. Will’s stomach dropped. There wasn’t a single positive reason that Will and the tavern owner would be in a room together, much less a room this grand and official.

“Young Mr.Blackwood, thank you for joining us.” The Baron smiles at Will as if he hadn’t just been dragged through the town.

“Of course. Is there something I can do for you?”

The Baron’s smile dropped, as if he had just remembered why Will was here. “Ah yes. Well, Mr.Barrow here,” Arald gestured to the other man, “has brought some… concerns to my attention.”

“Concerns about me?” Will frowned. As far as he can recall, he’s never actually met Mr.Barrow.

“Your father, more like it. But the word on the street is that you're the one who manages your family’s affairs.” Barrow’s voice is heavy and coarse. It’s not a voice Will is particularly excited to be on the receiving end of. But Will is grateful that he has the grace to call him and his father a “family”.

Taking back control of the meeting, the Baron continues, “Your father has built but quite the tab at Mr.Barrow’s tavern. A tab that he is looking to have paid. And if you are unable to, I’ll have no choice but to have your father arrested.”

Will's heart dropped to his empty stomachs “Please my lord, I just need a bit of time. I’ll get him the money I swear. Grant me a little time and I’ll get Mr.Barrow what’s due to him.”

“And during that time, your father’s tab will triple.” Barrow turned wearily to Arald. “Baron Arald, the boy is not the one at fault. I’ve no issue with him. His father on the other hand is drinking my tavern dry. I’ve got a family of my own to feed. Promises of eventually won’t fill my children’s bellies.”

Will briefly wondered if Barrow even knew what hunger was. If he knew how it froze your core like an icy winter night. How the pain made you double over. How you knew it was bad when you didn’t feel it anymore. How the hunger would project haunting phantoms on the ceiling before black spots filled your vision.

The Baron’s deep voice pulls Will’s mind out of his stomach and back to the present. “I can appreciate that, Mr. Barrow. I have to say, I am a bit perplexed as to why young Will is here in his father’s stead.”

“My father is unwell.” The words rushed out of Will as they always did. He was quick to defend his father, to distract people from the reality of their situation.

“He’s well enough to stumble up to my bar every night.”

Will shot a glare at Barrows but quickly returned his attention to the Baron. Arguing with Barrow directly would get him nowhere, the Baron was the one who would decide his fate now.

“Please my lord. I just need a little time.” A pathetic whine escaped with the words. Will wondered if the men in the room were judging him for begging. He wondered what it would be like to be the kind of man who could afford to care about that kind of thing. To be able to be prideful. But Will was born desperate and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. Pretending otherwise would only leave him on the streets, hungry and cold and dying. And then where would his pride be?

“Will, I’m sorry but-“

“Please.” It tore out of his chest.

The Baron’s face softened. “Mr. Barrow, how much did you say Daniel Blackwood owes again?”

“Two silver.” Will had never seen two silver in his life.

“And without breaking any laws, how long would it realistically take you to come up with that amount?”

“A couple months.” Will hoped his lie wasn’t as glaringly obvious as he felt it was. Even if he hadn’t just lost their solo source of income, it would take years for Will to earn that kind of money.

“I see. Well, that won’t do, will it Mr. Barrow?”

“Definitely not.” Mr. Barrow confirmed. Will noted that he had least had the decency to not sound smug about it.

“Sir-“

Baron Arald leveled Will with a look he recognized well. A look of, not another word. He shut his jaw with an audible snap. He’d done what he could. Now there was nothing left to do but face the music.

“Martin,” the Baron gestured his assistant over. “Please settle Daniel Blackwood’s debt with Mr. Barrow and escort him out.”

Will watched with mouth gaping as the Baron’s attendant guided Barrow towards the exit. Before the doors shut, Will catches a glimpse of silver being exchanged between the two men.

Taking a deep breath, Will turns his gaze back to Baron Arlad. “I wish I could say that we don’t need charity. I wish I could refuse. But I’m not a fool. So I can only thank you. And you will be repaid. I promise. I’ll work just as hard to pay back my debt to you as I would my debt to Barrow. Harder, in fact!” His words tripped over themselves in a rush to be heard.

“Will, if I may,” Baron Arald said gently, “how unwell is your father?”

Will swallowed. “He fought in the war. He was brave. He, he saved people’s lives.”

“I don’t doubt that your father is an honorable man. But if you need help, if he needs help then perhaps-“

“I won’t send him away! He just needs me. I can take care of him. I have been for as long as I can remember.”

“How old are you Will?”

Will’s back straightened like it always did when he was asked that question, not that it did much for his height. “Fifteen my lord.”

“Fifteen.” Baron Arald repeated to himself. “That’s a lot of responsibility for a fifteen year old.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle. Like I said, I’ve been doing this for a long time.”

“And that’s very commendable. But how do you plan on continuing to support both of you?”

“I’m a hard worker. People hire me to help them fix things, help in their fields, things of the sort.”

“You can’t live on odd jobs forever.”

Will frowned. The Baron had seemed like a kind man. But he didn’t understand why he was harping on about their lifestyle. It wasn’t like Will could do much about the circumstances in which he was born. “Sir, I really appreciate you paying off my debt, and I will pay you back. With interest! But, I really should be going. I don’t like to leave my father alone.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. He didn’t like to leave his father unaccompanied. But that didn’t mean he didn’t do it.

Baron Arald stood and approached Will, who had to force himself not to take a step back away from the large man. “I host several wards here. Children who were orphaned. Tomorrow is their Choosing Day. All the craft masters with an opening for an apprentice will meet with them. I’d like to extend the invitation to you.”

“Why?”

“Because I think that if life had moved a bit to the left, you’d be there anyway.”

“I don’t think I understand my lord.”

Arald sighed, “Just, be here tomorrow at eight. Please.”

And who was Will to refuse a Baron anything. “Alright my lord. I’ll be there.”

[jaegonsmoon]

Omega pregnant Aegon: *is married to Alpha Aemond and gives birth to a dark haired beautiful baby*

King Viserys: *is oblivious and just happy have more grandchildren*

Rhanyra: *freaking out over being an aunt and grandmother at the same time and also trying to spin this situation in way where this won’t end in war or death*

Aemond, Otto, Alicent and Baela: *absolutely furious and ready to draw blood*

Luke and Rhanea: *not looking and anyone and edging out of the room to avoid any fallout*

Daemon:* smirking and leaning against the doorway with popcorn*

Jace:*sweating bullets and debating on running to the free cities to keep his balls in tact*

Aegon: *ignoring everything and just holding /in love with his new Baby*

THIS IS GOLDEN!!!!!! I love it!

Aemond, who has fucked Aegon probably two to three times out of duty since they wedded. Aemond who has been fucking unbonded omega Lucerys since he presented as one not long after his and Aegon’s wedding. Aemond who, after his and his brother’s coupling, looks the other way and pretends he does not see when Aegon downs moon tea like a cup of the finest westerosi wine. Aemond who is in love with Lucerys and curses his and his own existence every day for the omega not presenting sooner so they could’ve been bonded against all odds instead. Aemond, who knows where Aegon’s heart lies since they were kids: *Fake offended gasp at the babes dark hair*

Lucerys, who forgot to take his moon tea last time and drank it a tad too late, way past the 24 hours cycle, physically sweating: *gulps*

Baela, Rhaena, and Helaena, who have always known what’s stirring inside the pot and have all come to a silent agreement because they’re all young and craving a love of their own, not one forced upon them: *trying to contain their smirks and compostures*

Jacaerys, who has loved Aegon since he learned the meaning of it. Who’s first kiss, first time, first everything he shared with his uncle. Jace who was denied Aegon’s hand when his mother, who knew all along, tried to arrange their marriage. Jace who couldn’t steal Aegon away because Alicent, suspicious of it all, wed him to Aemond privately, before anyone could make a move. Jacaerys whose chest was swelling with pride at the sight of what they made together. Their babe. It was his seed the one to blossom in his womb, it was him the one that put it there, and now were all gonna possibly be beheaded for it, but in truth there was only one person in the room who gave a fuck about it, and no one would listen to her. Jacaerys who couldn’t be more obvious right now if he could help it: Gevie.

Aegon, who had only eyes for Jacaerys his entire life, ever since he had been born, till the moment present where he knew, the moment he became pregnant. He felt it. Aegon who spent his entire pregnancy sneaking out on rides where he and Jace would meet halfway in a small island they had found as an escaped in their early youth. Where they would curl up in between their dragons and talk, kiss, touch and fuck and hold each other for hours. Ageon, whose babe was restless when their sire was away. Aegon who wished this would happen, that his baby would inherit their true sires features for the world to see. For his mother to see. The inevitable, how they were meant to be from the start and no faith and costume of the Mother or The Seven could come between the ways of Old Valyria, of the dragons. Aegon who was in love with what he and his nephew had created out of love and passion, couldn’t stop staring at the beautiful creature in his arms: I would burn the seven kingdoms for you.

And much like with Rhaenyra’s first three children, King Viserys would have the tongues and eyes of whoever dared to speak ill against his grandchild.

And when a couple of months later, unmated omega prince Lucerys gave birth to a beautiful silver haired baby, then what—

[severeblizzardlady]

For the life of me, I cannot let go of Your Roommate Error.

Warning: Error's a semi-creepy skeleboi in this one

He isn't sure why he came back.

He didn't have to.

Sure, bugging you had been fun while he recovered from...a fight he was totally winning and definitely did not flee from/get thrown out of.

Tying you up in his strings, eating your food, cutting your Internet when you least expected it, they all evoked such a...satisfying reaction. Your frustration was so funny. As if you could do anything against him besides grumble and pout.

As if you'd ever be strong enough to take him on.

Hilarious.

That was why he'd spent nights standing over you in bed. You were so deep asleep everytime, without fail. Oblivious to the danger at your bedside.

It would've been easy. Too easy. Getting rid of you. You were so simple. So soft. So human.

Except he didn't. Night after night, Error had slipped into your room to watch you sleep without fail, sneaking back to his room before you'd wake up.

The same way he was right now.

"Y-you're-re s-s-s-so du-umb." He says to himself, to the moon outside your window, to your sleeping form. "A fr-freaking m-m-maso-chi-chi-chist." That's the only reason he can think of as to why you'd been so excited to see him when he'd popped in to your reality unannounced earlier tonight.

How your face had lit up.

How you'd moved as though to hug him.

How expectant you'd been while you waited for his answer after you'd asked how long he'd be staying this time.

"W-why would I l-leave fr-free food and the best t-toy around?"

That's it. That's why he came back.

You're entertaining. Error's already broken you in. Leaving you behind now to your merry, boring life would be such a waste, especially when he can jet off to torment you whenever he needs to blow some steam.

You smile all dopey in your sleep then. Error debates dragging you out of bed and making you dangle from the ceiling.

...

...

...he figures he can always do that tomorrow night.

(It's a lie he'll tell himself every night).

[writteninscarlet]

Hello!

This is long overdue. I’m so sorry about the radio silence. What absolute dead air this blog has been. It was never the intention. Life got busy, then busier, and I don’t think it’s better but I think maybe I’m starting to juggle things. Some stuff has been tough, other things good. I was off around America for three weeks and radio silence with almost everyone - so not just you guys! But I am sorry, I never meant to simply disappear.

I’m struggling and debating over returning. I love Wanda so much and love to write. I really enjoy talking and interacting with all you mutuals (if I have any mutuals left, can’t blame you for leaving). I didn’t think anons could get to me, but they did. It was tough. What they said is one reason why I hesitate about returning. I would LIKE to come back, but I’m not sure how as I wouldn’t presume to jump back in as things were. Perhaps a fresh start, new blog. Maybe come up with a reason here… I’m not sure.

I’m sorry about the absence. I’ve not had discord either. New phone with new number and suddenly I couldn’t get back on, it slipped my mind, and I really can’t get on now! Id love to catch up with people. Id love to talk. I’m not up to date with tumblr. But I’m up to date with Wanda! And Moon Knight (spent far too much on Mk stuff but the loungefly and variants were worth it), and Kitty, and Iron Man and everyone. Or mostly everyone. If anyone wants, I’ll be around on this awful tumblr im system to chat.

I have missed everyone! I am sorry. Things happen? But also it was just tough to come back when I was gone. Anyways… here is a wall of text!

[habibi-bambi]

Lucifer Morningstar, Angel of God Now and Forevermore.

I'm working on a Hazbin Hotel fic that's Lucifer centric, with a dash of Good Omens and Lucifer show and Noah 2014 lore in it. PRE-EDEN ARC (this fic im working on is inspired by my deadfic lucifer/good omens that rotted in my wattpad drafts. I decided to put it up in AO3, so you guys can half use it as a guide for the start of the fic im working on now. )

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44040795/chapters/136875127 Before the Beginning, there was only the Great Void. The Barren Silence. There was Nothing. And then there was Something. That was Big G. [

Time had yet to exist, and They, a Great Being of Allknowing Knowledge and Unimaginable Power with a, rather strangling, hold on the empty darkness They liked to the Barren Silence, had no  measurement of just how long They spent not-yet-time like that. 

No idea of how long They had wondered over the curiously unanswered question of 'what came before?'

No idea of how long They had searched for answers of what, how or even why They had came to Be. 

No idea of how long They spent searching in that chilling silence of nothingness, within that never ending darkness, and found nothing besides Them. 

By the time They had enough of it All, and took the first step of changing it all, it started with just the smallest, softest of whispers—

LET THERE BE LIGHT.

And in their cupped hands, was a tiny ball of burning gas and fire and light. It couldn't possibly light up the vast Barren Silence, and barely changed a thing at all in their eyes. 

It was a start. ]

Big G poofed into existence in the midst of a bigggg black empty void of space. After some existential crisis that are unanswered, Big G decides to make a small ball of light. There is light, and Big G treats it like its their baby. And then it died :(

Big G decides to make more. Those lights eventually die too, but this time, Big G is not bothered because he continues to make more :D

Eventually that also gets boring for Big G here, until the First Light pops up and bumps into them, prompting them to stare with sad nostalgic no-eyes at the old husk of First Light, and had an Elsa Revelation (see Elsa's "love will thaw, of course, love!" for reference) and then BOOM! Great Plan was born! Now they solved their 'Reason for Existence problem'!

They decided they need help filling up the empty space (thats how dark and empty the big room Big G was in) and so they made their first angel.

Big G creates Samael, a being made of their divine essence, of their holy power, and of his piece. Samael who burns like no other stars and suns, is bathed in red and orange, with white six pearlescent wings.

Big G loves Samael, who is loyal and faithful. But Samael is young, impulsive with a temper that rivals every supernova. Big G creates a mirror of Samael, except he does not thing of suns and stars. They do not put in a piece of themselves, they instead thought icy cold comets, the moon. Unlike Samael, Metatron comes to existence, a gentle light, calm and obedient. These two mirror each other.

Big G creates two strain of angels. Most angels are like Metatron (not of personality or anything, just in how they were made), born to be of light, made of divine essence and holy power, but without a piece of Big G. Samael, and those that are like him, are very rare, and so only they hold the title 'Princes of Heaven' which later on becomes Cardinal Princes of The Seven Heavenly Virtues.

PRINCES OF HEAVEN (Princes is a unisex title) [ Samael. Michael (I'm still debating whether Michael is second oldest or second youngest or twin, im mentally weighing plot convenience vs more drama purposes). Gabriel. Raphael. Camael. Uriel. Lucifer.]

By the time Lucifer is created, there are hundreds of angels like Metatron, Seraphiel being one of them. Samael and his siblings are all Seraphims but are separated from the most as they are raised by Big G who definitely plays favorites.

When Lucifer is born, he is named son of the morning, the coming of dawn, and the angel who burns brighter of them all. His beauty and radiance and light is second to none but Big G himself. He is loved and cherished and doted on, even by grumpy and stern Samael. This in turn made him a spoiled (but lovable) menace who is vain.

He is also the most sheltered. Big G sees the First Light in him.

Lucifer, like every lil sibling, looks up to his oldest siblings, but he shares the tightest and closest bond with Michael. If Michael and Lucifer are twins, it'd be fun because of the 'half of me, the other half of my soul, together we are whole' trope and then HH plot and biblical canon plot happens lmao.

Basically Lucifer is like the sheltered, naive and innocent rich kid that's been spoiled and doted but very very sheltered. He's considered eccentric by other angels, and a little troublemaker by the Elder ones like Samael (fondly) and Metatron (cold disregard) and Sera (exasperated like a teacher, big sister from the neighboring house that likes to nag).

Hazbin Hotel hierarchy still does not exist yet. It's still Elders, Princes of Heaven (except Samael because he's an Elder and the Oldest) and then other angels. The Elders is a 10 headed council, with Samael and Metatron at the very top of it.

Samael is very prideful, but very loyal to Big G. He's that super stern big brother who has a scary temper with a open secret soft side for those he thinks are special to him, which is God, and his siblings.

PRE EDEN ARC IS DONE. (ps. im working on a fanart of my version of angel luci)