#or they turned out to be like abusive and generally horrible

[justanisabelakinnie]

OMG I HAVE LITERALLY BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE!!! YAY!!! 😍

Anyway, listen guys. I love Mean Girls. It means(pun not intended) a lot to me. I was literally born the year it came out, so I like to joke that it is the same age as me. I also love the memes and quotes that came from the film, and even own a Mean Girls shirt that I wear on Wednesdays and every October 3rd. It is LITERALLY one of my top five movies of all time! Seriously, you guys don’t understand how much I fucking LOVE this movie. It is, like, SO FETCH!!!(sorry I just had to lol) However, as much as I love it, and as much as I appreciate its genuine attempts to expose and deconstruct the internalized misogyny that permeates high school and the way that girls are pitted against each other, I still have to admit…it does not like women. Or at least, it doesn’t like women who aren’t white, cishet, gender conforming, slim, and conventionally attractive, and sometimes, I’m not even sure it likes them either. And let me explain why.

To start, there’s the movie’s horrid portrayal of women of color. All the main characters are skinny, cishet, attractive white women. And what few women of color exists are only negative, racist, stereotypical caricatures. There are the unfriendly Black hotties, who are all lightskin and whom Cady greets by saying “Jambo”, there’s the “I’m from Michigan” girl whom Ms. Norbury assumes is from Africa for no apparent reason, and worst of all, there are the “Cool Asian” girls who sleep with the white gym coach and fight over him, which contributes to the sexualization of Asian women for the pleasure of white men. It’s quite ironic that this movie is supposed to be all about how girls shouldn’t fight over a guy, which it rightfully shows as wrong and takes seriously with the two lead white girls(Regina and Cady), but then it boils down the two Asian girls as catty, slutty bitches who fight over a white guy and plays this for laughs. One of them is even wrongly quoted as saying the n-word in the subtitles, and the movie is full of racist jokes like this in general. And when Gretchen joins the group at the end of the movie, she speaks fake Vietnamese, which is of course, played for laughs as well. There’s also a later scene in the movie where Kevin gently turns Cady down by saying “I only date women of color” and this is played for laughs, as if the idea that a man(even a man of color) would choose a woman of color as more desirable than a white woman is ridiculous and worthy of mockery. Yes, Gretchen is also portrayed as being manipulated by a skeezy guy, Karen is a “slut” who kisses her cousin, and Regina has sex with Shane Oman, but none of them are reduced to these traits the way Trang Pak and the other Cool Asian girls are, and even if they were, white girls are still widely seen as more pure and attractive and worthy of protection than girls of color, so it would still be worse for the Cool Asians. While I’m glad that the story shows that Coach Carr was a predator by having Principal Duvall say “step away from the underage girls” it’s still played for laughs, and the movie doesn’t give Coach Carr any comeuppance(and no, him fleeing school property isn’t comeuppance, I want to see him get arrested and imprisoned), which I will address further later. If Coach Carr was preying on white girls, I bet the movie would have taken it much more seriously, but because girls of color are innately sexual, they are open to being sexually abused and exploited, according to this movie. Also, Janis is Lebanese despite her actress being a white woman. In the world of Mean Girls, white girls are beautiful, the feminine ideal, and prized, while girls of color are just vapid sluts, wannabe icons, and pushed off to the background. And this is a “fact” that is never once contested, and as a Black girl, that irritates me.

Next there is the horrible lesbophobia. The entire movie relies on the fact that Regina excluded and ostracized Janis for being a lesbian, and now Janis wants revenge, so she uses Cady to ruin Regina’s life and get that revenge. This is not a problem, as it realistically shows how homophobia was a thing in the past and how lesbians and other gay people get excluded and isolated for their sexuality…or at least it would be if Janis was actually a lesbian. But at the end of the movie there’s a random scene where Janis is making out with Kevin, for literally no reason other than shock value. Because of this, the movie gives the impression that bullying a girl for being a lesbian is bad because she might actually turn out to be straight, implying that being a lesbian is the worst thing a girl could ever be. Which is so fucking disappointing because this movie which is supposedly all about female solidarity and how girls shouldn’t cat fight could have sent a message that you shouldn’t treat lesbians like predators or weirdos or outcasts just because they like girls, and that girls should accept other girls regardless of their sexuality. But instead of telling the audience that you shouldn’t bully girls for being gay because it’s wrong to treat being a lesbian as a bad thing, it instead sends the message that you shouldn’t bully girls for being gay because being gay actually IS a bad thing, and you shouldn’t call a girl gay when she isn’t. The scene where Janis kisses Kevin does not even affect the plot. It only exists to assure the audience that “phew, it turns out she’s straight after all!” and ensure that she’s still sympathetic because she’s not actually a nasty lesbian…but what if she was one? Would that really be so bad? Would that justify the Plastics bullying and ostracizing her? Would that make her deserve to become an outcast? Apparently so.

This is a perfect example of queerbaiting. If you’re gonna have a female character who is gender-non-conforming, is ostracized for being a lesbian, hangs out with an effeminate openly gay guy along with a bunch of “art freaks” and no one else, reacts with disgust after kissing that gay guy(who is likewise disgusted for obvious reasons), and is literally NAMED after a lesbian singer, then you’d better do the common sense thing and actually make her a lesbian. The movie constantly shows being a lesbian as the worst thing you could be and the worst insult that you could ever call someone, especially in the big climax scene where Cady snaps and tells Janis that it’s not her fault that Janis is in love with her, which is supposed to show that Cady has really crossed the line, but would have been much more effective if Janis was actually a lesbian, rather than it just being a rumor.

And if you’re one of those people who’s just gonna go “but the whole point is that they only thought she was a lesbian because she’s masculine, wouldn’t that be an unfair stereotype???” Hello, feminine lesbian here. Masculine lesbians still exist, and they are frequently underrepresented in media because people think it is somehow more “progressive” to have a masc female character “subvert stereotypes” by making up for her masculinity and still being romantically available to men. And secondly, there is more to Janis’ lesbian coding than just her not being hyperfeminine, as I said above. They literally named her after a real-life lesbian for God’s sake and her best friend is a gay man(because of course the two queer outcasts at school would find each other). It’s just queerbaiting at this point to make her so heavily lesbian-coded but not an actual lesbian. It’s like the movie was mocking those who might think she’s a lesbian by aggressively forcing her to be straight. It’s irritating and it’s painful. And if you still think that I am making this up and that the movie does not treat being a lesbian as a bad thing, there is a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it scene during the Halloween party where Cady sees two random girls making out…and looks at them in disgust. This is never touched on again or called out by the narrative, so the intention is clear that the movie just wants us to think “two girls kissing? Ew, gross! Good thing Janis isn’t one, right?”

But while the movie does characterize masculine women poorly, it also does something similar to feminine women. The movie falls into the typical trap of associating femininity with vapidity, shallowness, materialism, vanity, and meanness. Regina’s redemption is associated with her playing hyper-aggressive sports which is often seen as more traditionally masculine(which I don’t personally agree with but the movie does portray it as such), while Karen and Gretchen stay an idiot and a shallow sycophant respectively, Cady becomes more and more feminine the meaner she becomes, and at the end of the movie she is shown dressing like her old self, but more fashionably. Now, I don’t think that the movie completely shows femininity in a bad light, considering that the Plastics, even after they break up, are still feminine, but I do think that it associates femininity more with being less sympathetic and smart. Especially since near the end of the movie, Janis angrily calls out Cady for being a mean girl, which would be fine if not for the fact that the movie completely glosses over the fact that Janis was also a mean girl as well, and portrays her as totally in the right. When Cady rightfully points out that Janis was also involved in this, Janis ignores it and blames solely Cady, and the movie encourages us to agree with her.

Near the end, during the dance, Cady apologizes to Janis, who snidely asks her if she’s still an asshole, which is teeth-grinding when you remember that Janis was ALSO an asshole, while the movie blames solely Cady for being a mean girl, and never Janis. The entire point of the movie is that all of the girls are mean girls, and here the narrative only blames the Plastics for being mean because they are popular and girlier, while pretending that everything Janis did was entirely justified and acceptable because she is more tomboyish and an outcast. And this isn’t me defending the Plastics, or saying that Janis deserved to be an outcast. But the movie should have held them ALL accountable, and not heralded Janis as a badass hero and an underdog throughout, when the point should have been that NONE of the girls were in the right, not even Janis.

So with that out of the way, even with all its flaws representation-wise, the movie still does a good job of showing toxic teenage girl culture and how girls shouldn’t be pit against each other, right? Except…no. It doesn’t. The movie fails to deliver its main message that teenage girls shouldn’t be in competition with each other, because it fails to properly examine WHY girls are pressured to compete with and undermine each other, and does nothing to critique the patriarchal society we live in that tells women to hate each other, fight over men, slut-shame each other, etc. none of the male characters are shown facing any comeuppance for how they treat the girls and women in the story, Jason isn’t shown learning to be a better person and respect Gretchen, Coach Carr, as said above, gets away scot-free with grooming and quite possibly raping two underage girls, Regina’s dad is barely in her life(though he does show sadness and disapproval at her actions), and the other male characters aren’t shown as being sexist or held responsible for any misogyny or leading the girls to have any internalized misogyny at all. This movie doesn’t show any of the social forces, or the types of sexist messages from men, that would lead girls to do things like backstab each other for boys, compete for male attention, dumb themselves down to not intimidate men, or develop eating disorders. Instead, the movie simply blames the women themselves and acts as if girls act this way just because, or because they feel like it, which sends the accidental message that girls act this way because they’re naturally catty and bitchy and competitive towards each other. Instead of saying “girls feel pressured to fight each other because guys compare them or tell them that they are less than” or something like it, the movie merely asserts that “girls need to stop catfighting and acting petty and cruel and sneaky all the damn time”. It acts like girls are just that bitchy and insecure and constantly crave male validation because that’s simply how girls are, not because society engineers and pressures them to be that way.

One thing I really can’t stand is that popular quote from Ms. Norbury that goes “you guys have got to stop calling each other sluts and whores! It just makes it okay for guys to call you sluts and whores!” And how everybody in the fandom praises and celebrates that line and acts like it’s totally revolutionary and empowering. When all it does is imply that men being sexist to women is women’s own fault and something that they brought upon themselves through their actions. It’s victim-blamey “men respect women who respect themselves” type bullshit. It pins the blame of internalized misogyny onto women themselves and acts like we’re the ones who chose to pit women against each other, when in reality it is MEN who pit women against each other, leading to some women internalizing that.

In addition, the scene where Cady is told by Ms. Norbury “you don’t have to dumb yourself down to get guys to like you” would have been more meaningful if the movie actually showed why Cady does think that, like having a guy tell Cady that smart women are unattractive or that she’s intimidating men by being too good at math and no guy will dare date her because of it, leading to her thinking it’s true because she’s naïve and doesn’t know any better. The same is true for the Plastics looking in a mirror and hating themselves, Regina being obsessed with staying skinny, and Regina’s mom having breast implants(which the movie also makes fun of, by the way 😒). But the movie doesn’t show any of that. The closest it comes to that is showing Regina’s little sister Kylie dancing to an inappropriate music video on TV, but she’s so unimportant that it means nothing in the grand scheme of things(and also…it’s played for laughs once more. Sigh). Once again, the blame is placed entirely on the women themselves for acting this way. It’s not like society’s messages breed internalized misogyny in women, no, it’s just natural, that’s just how women are. Women, amirite? Bitches be crazy. #JustGirlyThings. It’s gross.

Once again, Mean Girls is a fun movie. It’s fabulous, it’s fierce, it’s iconic, it has amazing costume and set design and dialogue and an incredible banger soundtrack. And it has great female characters, too! In the main cast, at least. And I love each and every single one of them to death! But is it a feminist film? No way, honey. Nuh-uh. Not in the slightest. I know that this review sounds like I am hating on Mean Girls, but I genuinely do enjoy it. And I genuinely do also think that it really did try to send a feminist message about female friendships and solidarity. It was, after all, inspired by a parental self-help book called Queen Bees and Wannabes, which is all about female social hierarchies in high school. But unfortunately, it fumbled the bag, not just because it failed at its core message, but because of how it writes all types of women negatively, as I stated above. You can adore something and acknowledge its flaws. You can love a work and admit that it’s not perfect. You can enjoy a story without it being the most progressive and revolutionary think piece ever and you’re not less open-minded for loving it. But you still gotta be honest with yourself. And so do I.

I suppose that, for me, Mean Girls would be placed in the “it thinks it likes women, it WANTS to like women, but it doesn’t” category. Because that’s where it belongs. It tries so hard to be a feminist film, but it’s overshadowed by white feminism, lesbophobia, racialized misogyny, and a whole host of other things that prevent it from being the feminist groundbreaker that it tries to be. It’s not as bad as the Barbie movie, but irs still pretty bad. So despite my deep and sincere love for this movie, I can’t in good faith vote yes. Mean Girls thinks it likes women, it wants to like women, but it does not. It especially doesn’t like women like me, probably because it doesn’t consider women like me to be worthy of being liked, or as anything other than a caricature or a negative example of what to avoid. And that’s just a fact that I have to accept. 😞

Does Mean Girls (the movie) like women?

Mean Girld (Film, 2004)

Explain your reasoning in the tags!

[ghostickle]

I want good friends and a proper social circle but 1 no clue how to do that never had that before and 2 god it takes so much time and energy to get to that point with people and to find cool people I just want to already Have that yk

[freebooter4ever]

dear mom, one day ill be living in a big old city and all youll ever be is mean :)

[slimyenemy]

yeah annoying people is a power trip because i like power disregard all previous lore :D

[kindnessoverperfection]

Please, if you can, take a moment to read and share this because I feel like I'm screaming underwater.

NPD (Narcissistic Personality Disorder) stigma is rampant right now, and seems to be getting progressively worse. Everyone is using it as a buzzword in the worst ways possible, spreading misinformation and hatred against a real disorder.

I could go on a long time about how this happened, why it's factually incorrect (and what the disorder actually IS), why it's harmful, and the changes I'd like to see. But to keep this concise, I'll simply link to a few posts under the cut for further reading.

The point of this post is a plea. Please help stop the spread of stigma. Even in mental health communities, even around others with personality disorders, in neurodivergent "safe" spaces, other communities I thought people would be supportive in (e.g. trans support groups, progressive spaces in general), it keeps coming up. So I'm willing to bet that a lot of people on this site need to see this.

Because it's so hard to exist in this world.

My disorder already makes me feel as if I'm worthless and unlovable, like there's something inherently wrong and damaged about me. And it's so much harder to fight that and heal when my daily life consists of:

Laughing and spending time with my friends, doing my utmost best to connect and stay present and focused on them, trying to let my guards down and be real and believe I'm lovable- when suddenly they throw out the word "narcissist" to describe horrible people or someone they hate, or the conversation turns to how evil "people with narcissistic personality disorder" are. (Seriously, you don't know which of your friends might have NPD and feels like shit when you say those things & now knows that you'd hate them if you knew.)

Trying to look up "mental health positivity for people with npd", "mental health positivity cluster bs", only to find a) none of that, and b) more of the same old vile shit that makes me feel terrible about myself.

Having a hard time (which is constant at this point) and trying to look up resources for myself, only to again, find the same stigma. And no resources.

Not having any clue how to help myself, because even the mental health field is spitting so much vitriol at people with DISORDERS (who they're supposed to be helping!) that there's no solid research or therapy programs for people like me.

Losing close friends when they find out, despite us having had a good relationship before, and them KNOWING me and knowing that I'm not like the trending image of pwNPD. Because now they only see me through the lens of stigma and misinformation.

Hearing the same stigma come up literally wherever I go. Clubs. Meetings. Any online space. At the bus stop. At the mall. At a restaurant. At work. Buzzword of the year that everyone loooves loudly throwing around with their friends or over the phone. Feels awesome for me, makes my day so much better/s

I could go on for a long time, but I'm scared no one will read/rb this if it gets too much longer.

So please. Stop using the word "narcissist" as a synonym for "abusive".

Stop bringing up people you hate who you believe to have NPD because of a stigmatizing article full of misinformation whenever someone with actual NPD opens their mouth. (Imagine if people did that with any other disorder! "Hey, I'm autistic." "Oh... my old roommate screamed at me whenever I made noise around him, and didn't understand my needs, which seems like sensory overload and difficulty with social cues. He was definitely autistic. But as long as you're self-aware and always restraining your innate desire to be an abusive asshole, you're okay I guess, maybe." ...See how offensive and ignorant that is?)

Stop preventing healthcare for people with a disorder just because it's trendy to use us as a scapegoat.

If you got this far, thank you for reading, and please share this if you can. Further reading is under the cut.

NPD Criteria, re-written by someone who actually has NPD

Stigma in the DSM

Common perception of the DSM criteria vs how someone may actually experience them (Keep in mind that this is the way I personally experience these symptoms, and that presentation can vary a lot between individuals)

"Idk, the stigma is right though, because I've known a lot of people with NPD who are jerks, so I'm going to continue to support the blockage of treatment for this condition."

(All of these were written by me, because I didn't want to link to other folks' posts without permission, but if you want to add your own links in reblogs or replies please feel free <3)

[stevie-petey]

episode one: the hellfire club

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

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

Rating: general, some swearing

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

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

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

–

March 21st, 1986.

Dear Y/N,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mike is visiting!

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

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

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

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

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

Love, El.

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

For bug.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yikes, Dusty.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eddie Munson.”

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

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

–

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

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

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

“Family Video isn’t a lousy job–”

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

“Okay, yeah. It’s pretty lousy.”

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

You suck in a breath. “Steve…”

Richard Harrington is a cruel, awful man. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which means it has to be about someone. 

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

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

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

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

“I really don’t care–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“True love’s side.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Boobies! It’s not a big deal–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

– 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not the best combination, honestly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s good with a bat.”

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

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

The moment is sweet, it makes you smile. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jason Carver was more than happy to ascend the throne. 

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

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

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

You’re the best of them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hate Jason Carver.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Goddamn Eddie Munson. 

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

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

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

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

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

Seems like a pretty easy decision to you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dustin sighs, “thanks, Y/N–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is?”

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

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

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

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

– 

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

You’ll miss him when you graduate. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

“No!” You scream at him. 

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

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

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

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

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

Abandonment makes you cruel. Your father taught you that.

– 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lucas is playing.

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

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

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

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

“Sinclair did it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sin to win, Sinclair!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

– 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now Steve wants to do the same for you.

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

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

“You… you can’t.” 

Steve frowns. “I can’t what?”

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

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

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

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

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

But he can’t see that right now.

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

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

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

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

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

“Steve–”

“You were just going to leave me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think you should go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ if youd like to buy me a coffee ☕︎

⌑ thank you for reading ! feel free to like, comment, reblog, or send in an ask so we can chat <3

[demonslayerunhinged]

*cw: this theory deals with child sexual abuse and has mentions of suicidal ideation and eating disorders.

*If you or anyone you know is going through this, you can find resources here, here and here as well as a list of international hotlines.

Obanai is probably the second most hated character in the fandom, and just like Sanemi, he’s one of the most misunderstood. I think the hate he gets from the fandom is unwarranted; he’s accused of being a dick, a horrible person, a simp and a character who only exists to be Mitsuri’s love interest. All of which is unfair, sure he’s prickly and unapproachable, but he’s not as bad as the fandom makes him out to be.

So, in my quest to draft a defense for our favorite snek boy, I reread his backstory and in doing so, I realized something sad

Unhinged theory

Obanai is a sexual abuse survivor

Let me explain:

Obanai’s backstory and aspects of his character mirrors that of someone who’s been through sexual trauma. The evidence I'm going to present is a combination of my own knowledge about these matters and information I got from forums and websites for male survivors of sexual abuse. So let's examine them...um spoilers

The snake demon

I believe that the snake demon is a metaphor for a sexual predator. Her inclusion in the family could also be a metaphor for how these predators insert themselves into family units-or most of the time are family members themselves-and abuse the children for years and even generations. Obanai's relatives sacrificing their babies to her could signify the real life actions of families who are unaware or, turn a blind eye to, or sometimes actively participate in the abuse of their children.

The sacrifice in exchange for wealth speaks of how families in real life ignore the abuse of their children to maintain the wealth and status they obtain from being related to and associated with the abuser.

Even her decision to wait, ordering the cutting of his mouth so he would look like her, could be interpreted as her 'grooming' him in a sense.

Even her design has a certain sexual, predatory aspect to it that's different from the other demons.

His relatives

Obanai describes his family members as being 'disgustingly' affectionate and bringing him lots of 'greasy' food that made him sick. Food in media is often used to depict love, affection, connection and sex, and Demon Slayer is no different.

There are plenty of instances where food and the giving of food has been used to denote friendship (Tanjiro giving Zenitsu, Inosuke and Genya meals in an attempt to bond with them), connection (Giyuu wanting to give Sanemi ohagi), love (Tanjiro's love of cooking and the satisfaction he shows when his meals are enjoyed by others) and pleasure (Mitsuri's large appetite). I'll make a post about this later.

With this context, we can interpret their bringing of rich foods, their overbearing attention and affections as them objectifying and even being sexually inappropriate with him.

The sexual abuse

Non-physical.

The first instance of abuse is non-physical, but that doesn't make it any less important. Being constantly visited by the snake demon in his room at night, Obanai described his feelings of terror, being paralyzed and watched. His body would break out in a sweat, and he would be unable to fall asleep.

His descriptions of the experience and his body's reaction to it reminded me of some survivors' stories I read, where they talked about how in the initial stages of the abuse or when the abuser was first introduced into their lives, their abuser would give them unwanted attention, would stare at them in a way that felt creepy, gross and wrong.

Some had their abusers come in to their rooms, maybe under the guise of 'checking in on them'. They described feeling terrified, freezing up with the hopes that the attacker would leave. Some would take measures such as sleeping with the door locked or with a heavy object against it, sleeping with a sibling or parent, sleeping in a hiding spot that the attacker knows nothing about or not sleeping at all.

Physical.

The specific age that the snake demon plans to 'eat' Obanai is never stated, but from what we've seen so far and in the sexual context, we can assume that she's waiting until he hits puberty. Some studies state that the average age of victims of female sex offenders usually falls around 14 years, but there are cases where the female predator waited until their victim reached sexual maturity before they carried out their abuse, like in the case of Mary Kay Letourneau. Here's a video that breaks down an interview she did before her death.

Obanai was 12 when he was dragged out of his cell to be subjected to what I believe is the first physical abuse. He had his mouth slit from ear to ear, with the blood collected and fed to her. The snake demon decided to have him live a little longer, which again, fits into my theory of her wanting to wait until he reached puberty.

Bodily violation, violence and blood are common allegories for sexual assault used in media and in Obanai's backstory we see it being used when his relatives drag him from his cell, literally pin him down, cut his mouth and feed his blood to the snake demon. The act of feeding on his blood could also be a metaphor for the snake demon sexually abusing him.

His escape and the resulting fallout

Obanai managed to escape, and although he was tracked down by the snake demon, he was saved by Shinjuro Kengoku before she could kill him. His cousin's response was to blame him for all that happened, asked why he ran away, and said that he should have 'allowed' the demon to eat him.

This could represent how some victims are rejected, ostracized and criticized for speaking out against their attacker, exposing the abuse to the public and getting help. Their families would say 'you should have just let it happen', 'you destroyed the family', 'why did you run away, tell people?' and place the blame on the victim.

Obanai's reaction

There are three aspects of his characterization that are similar to the common reactions noticed in adult survivors of sexual assault, especially male survivors.

His appearance.

His behavior.

His beliefs.

His appearance

Obanai has a small frame that he hides with his baggy uniform and haori. I can tell it's baggy compared to that of the other slayers because of the width of his pants vs the width of his lower legs. Desexualization or hypo-sexualization is a common response among some survivors of sexual trauma, this usually involves wearing clothes and taking measures to make themselves look 'unattractive'.

'But this side feels more comfortable for me, like the baggy clothes I wear, which hide my body, and the long sleeves which reach past my wrists. I promised myself no man would ever touch me again, and whether it was a moment of triumph, or a moment of defeat, I still don't know.'

'I'm thin, shy. I seem easy to dominate. I've grown a beard. That's helped a little. I dress in baggy clothes, covering as much of my skin as possible. That makes me feel safe.'

This not only helps regain a sense of control and power over their body but also serves as a protective measure against sexual advances so they don't get abused again.

In Obanai, given his history of receiving unwanted, suffocating and 'disgusting' attention from his female relatives, it would make sense that he would want to dress in a way that makes him unapproachable and hides his body from the opposite sex. We can see his attempts to desexualize himself in the picture below:

His behavior

'Iguro has difficulty with girls. Due to his experiences growing up, he was unable to conquer his fear and animosity. Plus, the firls who joined the Demon Slayer Corps often put on brave faces because of their sad backgrounds, so he felt sorry for them, making him uncomfortable in a different way.' - Taisho Whispers, official English translation.

'Iguro-san isn't good with women. Due to his upbringing he has a fear and disgust towards women. (I couldn't overcome it easily. The women who joined the Demon Slayer Corps have painful stories of determination. I felt sorry for them and I didn't get along with them in a way that was different from the way I got along with my family)' - Taisho Whispers, direct-sort-of-shitty translation via Google Translate.

Male survivors who were victims of childhood abuse by female perpetrators often talk about how the abuse greatly affected their relationships with women or lack thereof. Some going so far as to say that they became afraid of women, being around them and how sometimes being touched by women would trigger panic attacks and remind them of the trauma.

Here are some quotes posted in a thread on the Male Survivor forum. Full thread here.

'Once that happened, my genophobia became more intense. I couldn't ware short trousers in summer, could never go swimming, got paranoid if I touched a woman's arm or even brushed against one, would always stand at a distance from female friends, and would literally leave the room if anything explicit was discussed.'

'I have started to have strange, deep discomforting feelings as I remember some of the assaults and I have gotten to a place where touch from a woman makes my hair stand up, makes me nauseous, and gives me chills and feelings of dread.'

Obanai has similar responses when he finds himself in proximity to women. We're only told about it in the main manga, but it's shown in the Gakuen. I know the Gakuen takes place in an alternate universe, but aside from the events, the behaviors of the characters are based on their actual personalities in the main manga, so we can safely say the reactions he displays in the Gakuen is canon to his character.

His beliefs

Adult survivors of sexual abuse often struggle with feelings of guilt, rage, and shame. In the manga, Obanai talks about being held back by the decaying hands of his family members, which could represent the long-lasting effects of sexual abuse and how some survivors carry these burdens all through adulthood or throughout their lives.

There's also the thoughts about himself that echo the heartbreaking thoughts shared by some male survivors.

Guilt:

"As the member of a filthy family, I too was corrupt. My sins were deep, so I could not live a normal life"

Rage:

"With no other outlet, I turned all my rage on demons in a grudge of intense hatred. By risking my life for others, I felt as if I could in some way become a slightly better person."

Shame:

"Unless I die and come back in a different body in which this filthy blood does not flow, I have no right to be with you."

Suicidal ideation(mild):

"By risking my life for others, I felt as if I could in some way become a slightly better person."

"I want to die defeating Muzan." (He's the only character that I know of that outright says this.)

He also kind-of expresses his feelings of being weak during the fight with Muzan:

"I've accomplished less in this battle than anyone! I wish I could deliver a more effective attack."

While this quote isn't exactly definite, a feeling of being weak, or being 'less of a man' is also a common experience shared by male sexual assault survivors.

The scar and It's symbolism

The scar is a physical manifestation of the lifelong effect that sexual abuse has on its victims and the stigma it carries. For Obanai, it's not just a painful reminder of the trauma he suffered at the hands of his family, but also a reminder to him that he's like his attacker, the snake demon. The bandages he wraps around his mouth symbolizes not just his attempts to hide his trauma, but also his inability to talk about it due to shame and fear, which is unfortunately an all too common experience of male survivors.

Another struggle survivors often experience is with intimacy, romantic relationships and sex. For Obanai, I believe that this struggle is represented by his eating disorder. The link between food and sex is a well established belief in many cultures, people with large appetites can be seen as having equally high sex drives while people with small appetites have little or no sex drive.

As he grows older, his little appetite is basically him curbing his growing sexual desire, which he sees as ugly, like the scar on his mouth. But the thing is Obanai wants love, he wants to love and be loved, to be intimate with another person, but he feels he doesn't deserve it, after all he's filthy, shameful and probably a predator just like the snake demon. So he starves himself, suffering in silence with the belief that he was disgusting, that no one would ever love him, that he was destined to and deserved to be alone.

Then he met Mitsuri.

In Conclusion, Obanai is way more complex than the KnY fandom gives him credit for. This is a man that went through immense suffering, and it's really sad to see people hate on him because he isn't 'nice'.

Well, that's just how life is. Trauma doesn't exactly make nice people. We can't all be like Giyuu or Tanjiro(bestest boy ❤), a lot of us are like Obanai, Sanemi, and even Shinobu, a lot of us are angry, and why shouldn't we be?

...

*Phew, ok so this one has been in the drafts for a while because I was scared to post such a dark subject matter and also I needed to be really sure I wasn't just talking out of my ass but after rereading his backstory and analyzing aspects of his character, I'm more confident about this.

[babyjakes]

you all over me.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinkmas 2023

prompt | double penetration

pairing | soft!dark!daddies!steve rogers and ari levinson x little!reader

warnings | dark ddlg dynamic (soft!dark!daddies of captive!little!reader.) dub/non-con. size kink. reader is held down and fucked. stretching. loss of anal virginity. unprotected double penetration (vaginal and anal.) mentions of anal training/stretching/fingering. clit rubbing. crying kink. praise and encouragement. mocking/humiliation. forced orgasm (with implied previous forced orgasms.) overstimulation. they come in her. little bit of aftercare.

word count | 1,386

an | this is written in the same au as clear blue water, with captive!reader and her soft!dark!daddies.

Tears poured down your damp cheeks as your face was tucked into the warm crook of Steve's neck. Arms reaching up weakly, you almost wanted to cling to the safety of his broad form as he lay beneath you, heavy breaths harmonizing with your own.

But that wouldn't do for your daddies- not for either of them. "Come on, babydoll. Where's that pretty face," the blonde crooned as his hips thrust upward over and over, rocking your own. His hands were on your waist, Ari's just above them as both the men worked to keep you upright and in place, their massive lengths pounding into you with steady rhythm.

They had been fucking you like this for what felt like hours, but the sensations of fullness and overstimulation you were experiencing were still just as overwhelming and horrible as when they had first pushed into you. Steve had gone first, both of the men knowing you would tolerate his part better. They were a bit concerned when you were in tears from the vaginal penetration alone, but as usual, they wouldn't be discouraged. As difficult as it was, and as pitiful as you were to watch as you were held down and split open, Ari was eventually able to work himself into you as well.

As they kept their four strong hands on you, working you up and down over their throbbing cocks like nothing more than a fleshlight with a pulse, you honestly couldn't tell which forceful insertion felt worse. It was all blurring together, the world nothing more than a streaky haze through your steady tears. The men shared a sympathetic glance with each other before Steve refocused his attention back on you. "Poor girl," he murmured lowly, bringing a hand up to brush away your tears with his thumb. "Know it's so hard, little one. So hard to take both your daddies' cocks at the same time, isn't it?"

"So full, aren't you, baby?" Ari nodded in agreement, his oversized member stretching your poor little bottom to its absolute limit. Despite the generous amount of lube they'd used and the time they'd spent patiently coaxing your tiny hole open with their greedy fingers, nothing could ease the horrible burning feeling that bloomed through your lower half as you were taken in the ass for the very first time.

"Look so pretty like this, all stretched out stuffed full of us," Steve groaned, his cock twitching so hard within your aching walls that you could feel it, your poor tummy spasming in response. To the man lying comfortably on his back, there had never been a sight quite as beautiful as this: watching from the front as your tiny holes were so helplessly violated, large hands holding you in place and giving you no choice but to sit there and take it, your perky tits bobbing perfectly as your figure was worked at a steady, punishing pace.

And though he couldn't see your chest as well, or the pretty little faces you were making as your body was used and abused so sinfully, Ari's view from behind you wasn't anything to turn his nose up at, either. He loved the way your back arched up as their dicks kept you angled forward towards Steve, your adorable ass bouncing in rhythm as his cock tore into your throbbing, achy hole. He could easily keep you going with just his hands alone; with both him and Steve being so much larger and stronger than you, it wasn't difficult for either one of them to overpower you and allow the other to make better use of a second pair of hands.

Which is just what Steve did as his partner held you up and in place, giving him the signal of a nod. "Go ahead, Stevie. Let's give some attention to that pretty little clit of hers," Ari suggested. Steve spit on his thumb, bringing the other hand down to pull back its protective hood as he smeared the clear wetness all over your poor little bundle of nerves. Your body jerked harshly at the stimulation, but you couldn't do anything to stop them or squirm away; you were completely helpless, having no choice but to let the blonde rub your exposed little nub in quick, harsh circles.

"Please, p-please... n-no!" you choked through your tears as your whole body began to shake with sobs.

"C'mon doll, doesn't that feel good? Know you like it when we pull back the hood and rub you right there, right on your cute little button," Steve frowned and faked worry at your cries, though he and Ari both knew perfectly well the way their actions and words were tormenting you.

"That's right," Ari mused from behind you as he kept your trembling body moving across their stiff lengths, "our pretty girl loves having her sweet little clit rubbed. Makes her come so hard, doesn't it Stevie? Poor baby can't help it when her daddies play with her clit, but it sure is cute to watch her try and fight it."

"So cute," Steve hummed in agreement, watching intently as your breaths began staggering, your little feet kicking weakly as your knees shook and struggled on either side of him. "Oh? Looks like she's getting close here," the blonde sang as he continued his skillful work over your slick, sticky nub. "Can feel her little pussy fluttering- what do you think, babydoll? You gonna be a good girl and come for your daddies?"

Watching as your buildup continued, Ari and Steve shared a knowing nod, both increasing the speed of their respective roles as their cocks pumped more vigorously inside you. This is the moment they had been waiting for; of course they were hoping to come as you did. A few orgasms had been forced from your trembling form earlier as you were held down by one and stretched out on the other's fingers, but this was meant to be the grand finale, the climax you would all share, whether you were willing or not.

"Can feel her squeezing us- she's getting close," Ari grunted as their dicks clapped lewdly into your dripping holes. "That's it, sweetheart. Come on, almost there..."

Your resistance was a losing game. As much as you fought and defied them each time, a sense of helplessness was never absent from within you; you knew you'd be forced to come. And with both of them thrusting into you at an almost immeasurable speed, and Steve's torturous hands working your clit the way he knew best, there was nothing for you to do but let them have their way with you. Eyes squeezing shut as your tummy tightened, your little toes curled as your orgasm was ripped from your faltering grasp. You came long and hard, Steve and Ari's triumphant words of praise merely echoes as heat and shocks of ecstasy overcame your exhausted body.

Warmth burst in your core as you were pumped full of both the men's come, Ari's fingers digging in almost painfully around your waist as their cocks swelled and sputtered within you. When you were finally coming down from your impressively long high, you let out a soft, broken cry as Steve finally eased your body down to rest limply against his front. "Shhh," you could hear him humming soothingly, someone's hand rubbing your back as you sniffled and sobbed into your captor's chest. "Easy pulling out of her," he was murmuring to Ari as the world seemed to slow around you.

"You're okay, baby. You were so good for us," the brunette was praising you softly from behind as he shifted a bit inside you, trying to measure how careful he needed to be as he and his partner now shifted their focus towards damage control.

"Don't cry, little one. Daddy's here, Daddy's got you," Steve kissed the top of your head as he cooed at you, his broad arms cradling you lovingly as you clung to him. You were desperate for any comfort and tenderness you could get at this point, even if it was straight from the hands of your abusers. This is usually how you wound up at the end of the day, a weeping mess in your daddies' arms, and they wouldn't have it any other way.

[ilyrafe]

after seeing so much one direction content these past couple of days, it got me thinking. one direction really was the last boyband to ever happen. no one will ever come close to what they did in only six years. it’s a once in a generation kind of thing to happen. they didn’t even win the x factor and ended up being the show’s biggest act, 14 years later.

yes, they were manufactured, but at the same time, they were the least manufactured band to ever exist in recent times. they didn’t dance, they weren’t actually meant to be a band, they got everything they had because of charisma and talent. these boys were so talented and charismatic. they didn’t really dress the same, they were working class teenagers with a dream and they did it. and it was beautiful.

after seeing their statements, it’s finally downing on me that one direction is really over and i will never see all five of them together again. 11 year old me is absolutely devastated, and so is 24, almost 25 year old me.

the fangirl in me never went anywhere, it turns out. i still have my 1d concert tickets (the only one i went to and zayn was still in the band!), my albums and dvds, books, theater tickets and every once in a while i would take them out of the box and reminisce of the good old days, never thinking i would mourn one of them so soon. i genuinely thought i would be way older when they would go.

i can’t help but feel so sad that liam’s last years were so erratic and horrible. he was hurting deeply and he deeply hurt other people, and there is no excuse for what he did. i mourn what he once was, what he could have been and how it all ended up being. i take maya’s allegations seriously and i encourage you to do the same. what she is going through right now is impossible to imagine.

for those saying they’re glad “an abuser died”, think about what you’re saying. his death helps no one. his victims will never get justice, he will not take accountability for his actions. no one will ever get closure.

for those saying they feel bad for hating or mocking him, you really should. he was called an opportunist for showing up at the boys’ concerts and yet, when harry would do it, everyone loved it.

liam wasn’t perfect, he fucked up a lot, but like anyone, he had the right to, at the very least, apologize. 31 is too young, and no one deserves to go like this.

all i think about is his little son, who will grow up without his dad. no kid should ever lose their parent, especially at such an young age. the fact that he never once exposed his son to the media (like many celebrities do) to protect his privacy tells me that he loved his boy and knew all too well the damage this exposure would cause.

i saw that some 1d songs are trending again, and as much as i would love to take the day to listen to them, it is too soon. i haven’t been able to watch friends since matthew perry died, haven’t been able to watch brooklyn 99 since andre bragher died and will not be able to listen to 1d for a while.

it’s too soon.

call me dramatic, i don’t really care. the most magical part of my adolescence has ended tragically and i am really at a loss.

for those who are conflicted as i am, take your time. it is okay to be sad he’s gone and, at the same time, feel disappointed or even angry. it is okay to mourn and, at the same time, support maya.

edit: i would also like to express my support to his parents, sisters, cheryl, kate and friends.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

aaron hotchner x jacks nanny/babysitter

she’s got a crazy ex that stalked and threatened her so she moved far away to live a simple, under the radar life and started working for hotch. he knows her situation and does his best to look out for her, maybe she’s like a live in nanny ? neither of them is bold enough to make a move first until her ex finds her and hotch and the team race to save her. ends with love confessions and all the sappy stuff

could be a one shot or a short lil series i’m sure whatever you write will be amazing !

༉‧₊˚. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨-𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 || 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

— pairing: aaron hotchner x plus size babysitter!reader

— summary: your new life as a live-in nanny was wonderful, and with your dark past behind you, there was nothing that could ruin this. but as they say, what goes around comes around.

— warnings: heavily detailed violence BEWARE, surprisingly light angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, physical hurt/comfort, mutual pining, abusive ex's :[, guns, and a horribly written action/fight scene (forgive me).

— wc: 1965

⋆ a/n: okay this is a heavy fic so beware once more, but aside from that this takes a fully turn! i don't really have anything else to say besides enjoy!

masterlist | AO3

“Backpack? Check. Lunchbox? Check. Shoes are tied? Check.” 

You placed your hands on your hips triumphantly, a proud smile on your face as you examined the little boy. 

Being a live-in nanny came with being organizational and making sure that Jack was ready for school everyday without fail. It wasn’t like Aaron was super strict on you; he understands when you have your days where things are a bit out of place, but honestly it was a personal preference, and totally not because you have a big fat crush on the FBI agent.

You had been very skeptical about your babysitting position at first because of your ex who was absolutely bat shit crazy. It was a situation you had barely escaped from, and it had taken almost everything in you to get where you were now, so you were a little afraid of men in general. But Aaron was kind, and welcoming, and fatherly, someone that you felt safe with.

And then, you fell in love.

It had scared the shit out of you of course, but now it was a feeling that you welcomed with open arms, even if you couldn’t act on it. 

Your phone began to ring as you searched for the car keys, the contact name read ‘Aaron <3’.

“Morning!” You greeted with a smile as you picked up. “Good morning. How are you guys?” The older man asked. “We're doing just fine, as always,” You successfully found the keys. “How are things?” You knew better than to ask how he was, because if you had the kind of job that he did, there was no way you could answer positively. 

“We pretty much have everything we need, so we’ll probably be able to wrap this case up early.” 

“Oh Aaron, that's great!” You cheer happily and make your way back to where Jack was waiting for you. “You ready to go, little man?” Jack looks up at you from his toys. “Is that daddy on the phone?”

“Yeah buddy, you wanna say hi?” 

“Yes!” Jack’s answer was full of excitement, and you can’t help but smile. “As much as I enjoy talking to you, it looks like I’m handing you over.” You swear you could hear Aaron chuckle.

Yeah, this was a life that you could get used to.

Having the house to yourself was weird.

With Jack away at his aunt’s for the weekend, it was strangely quiet due to the emptiness of the child’s presence. You suppose you’re grateful for the break even though taking care of Jack really isn’t as tiring as one might think. 

Despite Aaron rarely being home, he’s managed to raise the boy well when he could, and it’s honestly very admirable. It’s one of the many things that made you fall in love with him. You gaze down into the wine glass at the thought, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Ugh, why does love make you such a loser?

Your bashful train of thought was stopped by a suspicious thump coming from the back of the house. Your smile dropped and a feeling of anxiety and worry twisted in your gut as you grabbed your phone that was lying on the kitchen counter.

You’re quick to dial Aaron’s number and your fingernail finds itself in your mouth as you chew on it anxiously. It’s an old habit, one that you had picked up back in your old relationship.

“Hello?” Rasped Aaron. 

You knew he had just recently flown in from wherever he was because you could hear the foot traffic of everyone grabbing their luggage from the plane’s storage.

“Hey,” Your greeting was nervous and it was something that Aaron easily picked up on. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?” He asks with a furrowed brow. “Yeah, just um - I’m just hearing some weird things so I just wanted to know when you think you might be getting home.” I miss you.

“Honey what type of weird things?” Before you were able to answer, there was a loud crashing sound. You instantly dropped to the floor to hide behind the counter; you cradled the phone to your ear, “Okay uh - change of claim,” You attempted to joke. “Someone is most definitely in the house.”

Aaron tries not to panic at the way his insides turn cold, “You remember what to do, right?” He asks with a hardened voice. You gulp, stretching slightly to peer over the marble. You stare out into the darkness and a frightened shiver shoots up your spine. 

“Get to your room and enter the safe.” You reiterated what he had told you almost a year ago when you had first moved in. You’ve never shot a gun before but tonight might be the night where you learn how too.

“That’s right, and do you remember the code?” 

As you went to answer him, you were snatched up by your hair and a scream rang out and into the phone. Even though you weren’t on speaker the others that were currently standing outside with Aaron could hear it.

Aaron desperately calls out your name, and with your silence he takes off without any explanation, but his team knows to follow close behind.

“So, this is what you’ve been doing since you tried to leave me?!”

You cried out as another blow was delivered to your gut but a heavy boot. Your lungs burned and there were tears streaming down your face. He had pulled you so hard over the counter that it made your scalp burn, a blistering headache beginning to form at the base of your skull.

“Fuck you!” You spat as you attempted to prop yourself up on your elbows. 

There was a fine line between anger and fear, and this was one of those moments where they blend together. If you ended up dying tonight, at least you didn’t go down in vain.

This time he punched you in the face before snatching you up by your arms. There was a metallic taste in your mouth, a bruise already developing near your eye. “Why’d you leave me, huh?! We had a good thing going and you just… you just ruined it!”

“I didn’t ruin shit asshole!” You screamed and pushed at him but it was no use. “We were gonna get married but you… but you wanted to play house with an old man, really?!”

“You’ve been watching me.” You said in disbelief. It made your stomach twist in nausea and horror at the thought of him watching Jack, what he could’ve done to him. You had actively put the man you loved kid in danger and it devastated you.

“I had no choice!”

“You’re fucking crazy!”

“Put your hands where I can see them.” Aaron’s voice rang out throughout the house.

Before you knew it you were spun around with a gun to your head, his arm locked against your neck, faintly strangling you.

“Aaron!” You called out in relief, but it turned into a grunt as you tugged further into your ex’s chest.

Aaron’s gun was raised steadily, his eyes focused on your attacker, but he doesn’t hesitate to cast you a reassuring look. When he sees your bloody and bruised face his jaw tightens, the vein in his neck popping and visible through his skin.

“Boyfriend to the rescue, huh?” Your ex sneers into your cheek. You shudder. 

“Put the gun down.” Aaron continues to coax, and out the corner of your eye you can see Morgan approaching through the darkness. 

“Why do you want to save this slut? Don’t tell me you’ve already -” A shot rings out into the fair followed by a scream of pain.

Your ex collapses to the ground, cradling the gunshot wound in his knee as blood spills through his fingers. Aaron was the one that pulled the trigger and Morgan is already in the kitchen by the time he’s tugging you away and into his arms.

“Oh God.” You finally cried. “You came, you came…” His arms are wound tightly around you, purposefully tucking your face into his chest. “I’m here, I’m here.” He shushes and rocks you side to side in order to try and lull you.

Aaron – softly – orders you to sit down while he cleans up the blood when the rest of the team has already left.

You can’t help but watch him from where you’re sitting on the couch with his sleeves of his white button up rolled up and his hands gloved. “I’m sorry.” You decide to say, because you really were. “I’m sorry for everything.” There was so much more you wanted to say, but you felt your throat tighten with unshed tears.

“No, don’t apologize.” He says softly, abandoning the rag that he was using to scrub up said blood. “No Aaron you don’t understand. I put you and Jack in danger because of my bullshit and I thought that I had put it all behind me and I don’t -” 

“Stop.” It’s a bit firmer this time. “I knew exactly what I was getting myself into when I offered you to live with me and my son. Nothing that has occurred tonight has swayed my trust or opinion about you, you know that, right?”

“Right.” His hand holds your cheek and strokes the soft skin of it. “Good.”

Your eyes flicker down to his lips before peering back into his eyes, “If I asked you to kiss me, would you?”

“I’m not sure.”

“I promise this isn’t like a trauma bond thing. I’ve liked you for as long as I’ve worked for you and I didn’t want to tell you because I have nowhere else to go if you say no. Plus,” You sigh, “I just don’t want to make things difficult or uncomfortable for you.”

“You could never do that, feelings reciprocated or not.” He reassures.

“Well are they?”

He grins at your question, “I’d be an idiot not to feel the same way.” You laugh and he leans forward to join your lips together.

A warm feeling spreads in your gut and you knew that this is what love was supposed to feel like.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna @moonysreid

[ladyymiisa]

MONEY, MONEY, MONEY!

summary: your loving boyfriend who spoils you rotten!

tags: hawks x fem!reader, barista!reader, fem pronouns used for reader, fluff

author’s note: hi sexies!!! i literally can’t stop thinking about hawks spoiling his gf god i want him so bad

it’s no secret that hawks is rich. being a hero has not only given him popularity but also a paycheque that would make anyone’s eyes pop out if they saw the numbers on it. like, this man’s credit card is black. that’s how rich he is. and you’d think he’d try to display it, right? maybe by driving a really expensive car, like a ferrari or something, or by only wearing designer clothes.

haha, wrong.

for as wealthy as he is, hawks rarely spoils himself. perhaps he feels selfish to have all of this, despite how hard he’s worked for it. he tells himself that it’s because he’s too busy to actually relish in everything that he owns, that he has more important matters to focus on, but a part of him knows that they’re just excuses to make up for how hung up he is on the past.

the past of his criminal, alcoholic father and emotionally distant mother, the past of his abuse and how neglected he was. because of it, he can’t bring himself to actually enjoy the things others would kill for.

at least until he meets you.

he meets you and suddenly he finds a new purpose for his money, other than keeping it in his bank account to collect dust.

to spoil you, of course!

to me, hawks is more of a giver rather than a receiver and i will die on this hill. he loves to pamper you, shower you in the most expensive gifts known to man and take you on the fanciest dates. from designer shoes to jewellery that would cost you three years worth of rent, this man makes it his life mission to ensure that you only get the best of the best.

and at first, it all seems like too much. you’re just an ordinary civilian working as a barista, nothing special. you don’t consider yourself someone worthy of being hawks’ object of affection, but hawks, sorry, keigo makes sure to put a stop to those silly thoughts immediately. besides the expensive gifts, he also shows you daily just how much you mean to him, which is more precious than any pair of diamond earrings he could ever gift you.

for as busy as he is, keigo never leaves you hanging, no matter how busy he is.

showing up on your balcony late at night with a bouquet of your favourite flowers in hand if he isn’t able to visit you during your day shift, or washing the dishes for you if you’re too tired are some of the ways in which he shows his love.

and you grow greedy because of it. everything be damned, you slowly turn into a spoiled princess and it’s all his fault.

do you feel guilty about it? maybe just a little. but only because you no longer shy away from asking keigo to buy you stuff.

oh, look! a perfume you’ve been eyeing for a while just became available online? all you have to do is bat your eyelashes prettily at him and next thing you know you have a small package waiting by your doorstep the following day.

your favourite makeup brand dropped a new collection? surely he won’t mind if you get every product available.

hm? you’re still working at that coffee shop? well, not anymore! keigo can’t possibly have his pretty baby working herself to death when he’s right there to ensure that you’re living as comfortably as possible. after all, there’s no need for you to work! your rent is taken care of by him and his credit card is basically yours, so don’t worry your pretty head about such silly things! he’s got you covered.

but in the end, it’s not those gifts that make you fall asleep with a smile on your face at night. it’s his love that has your heart fluttering inside your chest whenever he gives you that boyish grin of his, it’s his love that leaves your cheeks feeling sore after he says such a horrible joke that you can’t help but laugh at. and keigo makes sure to shower you in his love every single day. he is a pretty generous man after all.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Billy Still Doesn't Know

virgin!eddie x experienced!reader

summary: you and Eddie make up after that disasterous night and very quickly become friends with benefits. But problems arise when you starts to have feelings for the metal head. Billy quickly gets winds of your arrangement and decides to call the both of you out at Nancy's party.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) oral (m receiving) sub!eddie, dom!reader, exhibitionism, anal, public sex, Billy just generally being a dick and abusive, but that's not new, use of nicknames (baby, good boy, honeybee) hurt/comfort, mild violence, mention of an abortion, mention of reader's rough home life (verbal abuse)

100% inspired by the song “Scotty Doesn’t Know” by Lustra!

part one

You stare at the ceiling as you try to fall asleep, the events of the night running through your head on a continuous loop. Guilt is causing a pit in your stomach to form, bile rising in your throat as the look on Eddie’s face stays in your mind, making you feel even worse. It wasn’t his fault. He was trying to do what he had thought you had liked and you freaked out. You panicked.

No one had ever bothered to care about things like that when it came to you so when someone finally did, it felt weird. Foreign. Eddie wasn't the problem, that much you were sure of. It was all you. Letting Billy into your life had created so many problems for you, especially mentally so it made hanging out with anyone normal difficult.

You hadn't actually wanted to leave, but it was a trauma response, something you always did with Billy so it was just second nature when anything went wrong. And unlike Billy, Eddie just let you go. Why, though? Why didn't he chase after you? Why didn't he demand you to stay like Billy would have?

Because Eddie wasn't Billy. Not in the slightest. He let you go because he felt like he was the right thing to do and didn't want to cross your boundaries. You thought a part of you knew that but you still wished he had asked you to stay.

You wanted him to get on his knees, holding your hands in his as he pleaded, begging for you to stay the night. And he would have invited you into his room where the two of you would have cuddled in his bed for the rest of the night.

Now you were starting to feel like a bitch for how things had ended. Because what had Eddie done except be an absolute gentleman? And now you had hurt him so badly that he hadn't even called you before bed like he always did. 

Your seat in the pre-calculus class that you share with Eddie is empty when he walks into first period. He’s internally panicking, but he plays it off as he sits in his assigned seat behind yours, pulling out the things he needs for the class, feeling his heart sink as he realizes that the events of the night before were so bad that he had made you not want to come to school. 

And he feels horrible, that feeling in his gut gnawing, eating at him, the clenching feeling getting even tighter, almost as if a boa constrictor had been wrapping around his midsection. He swears he’s going to throw up, putting his hand over his mouth to try to hold it back, but then you walk into the room, looking a little worse for wear with your head down as you hurry to your seat before Ms. O'donnell started the class. 

Eddie wasn’t paying attention to her, though, and neither were you. And you were clearly out of it because you hadn’t even noticed that he was staring at you, leaning over ever so slightly to the right so he could see your face. 

“I’m sorry Mr. Munson,” he hears Ms. O’Donnell’s voice, and immediately turns in her direction, completely oblivious to the fact that he’s about to fall out of his chair. “Is my lesson boring you? Because clearly you seem to be very interested in Miss l/n.” 

“No ma’am,” he shakes his head vigorously and doesn’t miss the way you slide down in your chair, pulling the hood of your hoodie up over your head in embarrassment. “Please, continue.”

Miss O’Donnell continues the lesson and neither you nor Eddie are paying her any attention. You both are in your own little worlds, still thinking about the night before. And if you’re being honest, you kind of hate how he’s acting like his usual self this morning. 

You were half expecting him to apologize even though you know you don’t deserve it. What does he have to apologize for anyway? Being a total sweetheart? If anyone should be apologizing, it’s you. And there’s no way you’re going to do that because vulnerability terrifies you. 

And you absolutely hate confrontation, hating having to put your feelings out there when you have a problem. You can still see your father yelling at you when you politely asked him to turn the TV volume down so you could sleep. You know that’s the reason why you are the way that you are. And hanging around Billy only made it worse, the similarities between the two men not lost on you.

And you know Eddie well enough to know that all he wants to do is put it all in the past. That’s what he’s done with the few spats that you’ve had and know that this isn’t any different. But he’s waiting for you to make the first move like he always does, because that’s just who he is. Eddie respects your boundaries and never wants to push, so that’s why this is getting to you. 

Well, that and you’re so used to Billy being the one to blame that you want to pass it off to Eddie to make yourself feel better. Because if you don’t accept the blame then it’s not your fault and then you don’t have to carry your guilt around because let’s be honest, you have more than enough of that already. 

But what you don’t know is that Eddie fully believes that he’s to blame, that he had pushed you too far. That you have every right to be mad at him for what he’s done. He just wants to apologize and for the two of you to be friends again, but he’s afraid that this isn’t something he can make up for with a song. 

So he spends the entirety of first period trying to wrack his brain for some way to make it up to you even though he doesn’t think any of it will be good enough. And just when he thinks he has something, the bell rings and you rush out of class, moving too fast for him to even catch up.

He gets out the door and you’re already halfway down the hallway, hurrying to your next class that’s on the other side of the school. He won’t have time to catch up with you and go to his own class, so he decides he’ll just talk to you at lunch. 

But you don’t sit with him. In fact, you’re not even in the cafeteria. He knows because he’s checking every five minutes, his eyes darting between all the doors and the lunch line, just to make sure he hasn’t missed you. He knows how crazy he looks, but everyone already thinks he is so that doesn’t bother him. All he cares about is finding you and telling you how sorry he is about last night. 

You’re not in the cafeteria because you’re in the newsroom with Robin and Nancy. You owe it to yourself to have a little girl time and forget about all the boy drama that’s been surrounding you for quite some time. You’ve only recently gotten close to them and appreciated that they let you into their group no question. 

They had been nothing but nice to you despite your reputation as a “mean girl” as that hadn’t been who you really were. It was just a facade that you had put on to push people out, and clearly it hadn’t worked as well as you had hoped.

They’d been for you when you complained about Billy and now they were trying to help you out with your situation with Eddie. They know how important he is to you and the both of you have become such important parts of the friend group and they hate to see either of you so upset, especially when it comes to being upset in regards to each other. 

You didn’t give them all the details of what happened because you felt like it was giving too much information, but you definitely alluded to what had happened and how you had left and how horrible you felt about hurting Eddie and that you were afraid that he was mad at you. 

“You know that Eddie is way too easy going to be mad at you,” Nancy told you as she rested her hand on top of yours. “And neither of you did anything wrong anyway. It’s all just a big misunderstanding. I’m sure if you talk to him about it and explain where you’re coming from, this whole mess will be fixed.”

You can always count on Nancy to give you good advice. You know she’s right, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to listen. You’re just going to thank her and then continue to avoid Eddie like the plague for the rest of the school year until the both of you graduate. It’s what’s for the best, you think, deciding that it just wasn’t meant to be. 

“I don’t know why you bother, Nanc,” Robin rolls her eyes. “We all know she’s not going to listen to you and continue to ignore Eddie, running back to Billy as if last night never happened.” 

You’ve always hated how well Robin can read you. Because she’s exactly right. Well, except for going back to Billy. You’ve been done with him for a while and now you’re finally going to rip off the band aid after school. 

“No,” you deny. “I’m going to break things off with him after school.”

“What about Eddie?” God, you’re tired of talking about him. You were only doing so because they had brought him up. You just wanted to forget about him even though it was impossible for you to do so. The metal head had taken up your thoughts every single second of every day since you had started hanging out. So much so that you had even started imagining his face when Billy was fucking you, always so close to moaning his name. And now you’ve pushed him away.

“What about Eddie, Nancy? He doesn’t want to talk to me.” You’re shrinking into yourself and you know that you sound like a broken record, but you can’t help it. 

“Alright,” Robin sighs, scooting her chair close to yours, looking you dead in the eyes, her own forming into a glare. “Since no one’s going to be honest with you, I will.”

“Go ahead,” you tell her, trying to show that you can handle it, but deep down, you’re terrified that she’s going to say something way out of pocket. That you’re going to have to excuse yourself to go to the bathroom and cry afterwards. 

“You left last night because people always leave you so you wanted a head start. You know Eddie won’t do that and that’s why you’re scared. Because he’s seen all your flaws and still wants to hang out with you. You’re not used to that.”

She’s right and your eyes widen as she speaks, realizing how well she had hit the nail on the head. You scoot out of your seat and storm out of the room, slamming the door behind you just as the bell rings, signaling the end of class. 

Anger courses through you as you stomp to your locker at the end of the day. You’re supposed to catch a ride home with Nancy and Robin since Eddie’s usually your ride, but you decide to just take the bus since you don’t have your other options. 

Well, you could if you stopped being so stubborn and actually talked about your feelings, but you can’t so you won’t. You want to be alone anyway, to drown your sorrows in a gallon of ice cream while you finally let yourself cry about everything. 

You get to your locker as the doors at the end of the school burst open. You turn to see who it is and immediately bury your face into your locker, the door hiding your face as you do so. Go, could this day get any worse?

You hear Billy before you see him, his boots stomping down the hallway, getting closer and closer to you and you want nothing more than for the floor to swallow you whole. You know why he’s there and you really want to put off speaking to him. You’ve had far too much drama for the day and just want to go home. 

“Baby,” he says with a smile and the nickname makes your skin crawl. You continue to grab your things from your locker and stuff them into your backpack as if he’s not there. And that pisses Billy off. He hates when you act like he doesn’t matter, especially when he’s been so generous as to give you his cock almost every night. You looking at him is the least he deserves. 

“You didn’t call me after last night.” He moves around the door to stand behind you, his cock rubbing against your ass. That would normally work on you, but not today, not anymore. You’re done with him and need to finally tell him the truth. You can’t keep going back to him. He’s not good for you, but you’ve gotten addicted to the way he makes you feel. And once the high wears off, you’re left feeling gross and used and you don’t want to feel like that anymore.

“I don’t want to talk to you, Billy,” you respond and his hand slams against the locker, causing it to close, the rate at which it slams closed causing a breeze to move across your face. You pull your hand away in the knick of time and before you can get away, Billy grabs onto your face, squeezing your cheeks in his hand. 

“You look at me when I’m talking to you, bitch,” he commands and you wince at the pain that he’s causing. You really wish that more people were around to witness what was happening, but the halls are empty since it’s the end of the day.

“Billy,” you say firmly, trying to get out of his grasp, but he just squeezes harder, that fire from yesterday filling his eyes again. “Let go.”

“No,” he spits. “You’re going to listen.” He steps closer so his face is only inches from yours and you’re more annoyed with him than anything. He doesn’t scare you anymore and you’re going to stand up to him for once and for all.

“No,” you finally push him off you.-

Eddie hurries down the hallway to the room where he hosts Hellfire, knowing that he’s last, but he’s relieved when no one’s waiting outside the door. Miss O’Donnell had found him after the bell had rung and reminded him that he was to report to her class after school the next day for tutoring. He’s so close to getting a passing grade, all he needs is to pass the test on Friday and he’s golden. 

He’s smiling to himself about the whole thing when he turns to see that you’re talking to Billy. The knife twists and now he’s sick to his stomach as he watches the whole thing. It looks like you’re arguing. And he’s invested as soon as he sees you throw a key onto the floor and it lands right at Billy’s feet. Billy picks it up and if looks could kill, you’d be dead. 

He can’t hear your conversation, but he just knows it’s ugly by the body language. He wants to help, take a punch for you to show you how much he cares for you, but he won’t. He doesn’t have the chance to because Dustin, Mike, and Lucas are standing behind him, waiting to be let inside. 

 “What is this?” Billy asks He knows what it is, but he wants you to say it. He wants to hear the words come from your mouth, because as soon as you say them, he’s not going to hook up with you anymore. The door will be closed and he’s gonna move another girl up to the list to take your coveted spot as his number three. 

“You know what it is,” you say as you cross your arms over your chest. His blood is boiling now as he realizes what it means. This is so embarrassing to him. He’s always the one who cuts ties, not the other way around. He thought that you loved. That’s why he kept you around. You were just someone to boost his ego and do whatever he asked because you worshiped the ground he walked on. 

He’s never loved you, he’s never loved anyone and he’s always made sure to remind you of that when you’ve done something nice for him, like doing the dishes when you knew it was his night to do so and he had forgotten, so focused on taking you to bed. 

He owes you nothing and supposes that you owe him nothing in return, because deep down, this whole thing is strictly transactional. He knows that you can go fuck any guy he wants, but he’s nothing but a jealous man to his core so he’ll make sure he’s the only one who’s gotten inside you then turn right around and fuck some other girl within the same hour of having fucked you. 

Billy pockets the key then steps forward again, his eyes narrowing into slits as he looks you up and down one last time. He doesn’t like the look on your face. He would have thought you’d be crying, begging him to take you back, but you just look unbothered, almost relieved.

“This is your last chance, bitch,” he says, pointing his finger in your face and you just stare at him with a nod. He then pushes past you, storming towards the door in a fit of rage, the door slamming behind him as he flees the school, heading to his car to figure who he’s going to replace you.

You’re crying now and Eddie’s watching, completely distracted by what’s going on, everything he was thinking about entirely abandoned in his brain to make space for you just like always. You stand there as sobs rake through you and he wants nothing more than to take you into his arms while he strokes your hair and tells you that everything is going to be okay. 

“Eddie?” Dustin waves his hand in front of Eddie’s face, but he’s still dazed. He’s so focused on you that nothing else matters. Not even Hellfire, and the boys know just how important that is to him. 

To the boys’ surprise, he just utters the words “Hellfire’s canceled today,” and before they can even process what he’s said, he’s taking off down the hallway to catch up with you as you’re heading to the doors. But he’s able to stop you before you get there, skidding to a stop in front of you. 

Your sniffling stops as you look up at him, wiping away your tears as you take him in, his wide brown eyes and his mouth that’s slightly agape as he wracks his brain for something to say. He was so focused on preventing you from leaving that he wasn’t thinking about what he had to say. 

You both stare at each other, waiting to see who makes the first move, both of you nervous as shit to be the first one to speak, so you say nothing, the halls eerily quiet without all the chatter of students or lockers and doors closing. It’s just the two of you and the rising tension sitting there between you, begging to be acknowledged. 

You wouldn’t even know what to say. Your tongue is tied and the only thing you want to say you just can’t get yourself to. And to your surprise, Eddie is just as quiet. Just great, you’ve somehow managed to render the boy who never shuts the fuck up speechless.

He can tell that you’re thinking as he can practically see the gears turning. You’re always so in your head and he hates that for you. That you always overthink everything to the point where it all takes over your thoughts. He knows you’ve been thinking about what happened last night since it happened and he wants to get you out of your head. To make you understand that it’s not your fault. You had every right to act the way you did. He couldn’t be mad at you if he tried and he knows you know that so he has no idea why you’ve been avoiding like the goddamn plague. 

The words are on the tip of his tongue and you can see it. His mouth opens to speak, but for some reason, you don’t want to hear it. You don’t want to talk about it, you just want to tell him that the whole thing is in the past and you can move on like it didn’t happen. 

But when Eddie bites the bullet to speak, you just shake your head and hurry past him, but he catches your wrist before you can leave, pulling you to him as his hand rests on the small of your back. His hand reaches up to push some hair away from your face and then it cups your cheek, forcing you to look into his warm bambi eyes.

“Stay,” he whispers and all you can do is nod as your lips part. He licks his own and an “I’m sorry” tumbles from his lips. They’re said with purpose, emphasis on each word to show you how much he means them. 

“No,” you shake your head. “I’m sorry Eddie. I fucked up and I-”

“Shh, honeybee,” he murmurs as his lips press to your forehead. “Just let me hold you, okay?”

All you can do is bury your face into his neck, tears streaming down your cheek once again. His hands move up and down your back in a comforting manner as he whispers nothing but soothing words in your ear, wanting to make sure that you know that happened last night is all in the past. He just wants to be there for you right now. 

You pull back to look at him and his features are nothing but soft, a small smile kicking up at the corner of his mouth as he wipes away your tears before pulling you in for another hug, squeezing you tight, deciding that he’d hold you in his arms for the rest of his life it was possible so you’d never get hurt again. 

“He’s such a fucking dick,” he mutters, his hands still rubbing lazy circles along your back. “God, I should have punched him when I had the chance.”

“Why would you do that?” You ask, your voice small. No one has ever done anything like that for you so you’re wondering why it’s Eddie who wants to be the one to defend your honor.

“Because I care about you,” he replies as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his thumb moving back and forth along it gently. 

“You do?”

“Of course I do, honey.” He’s laughing now, but not at you. It’s in disbelief because he can’t truly can’t believe that you don’t know that he’d take a bullet for you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him and just the mere thought of possibly losing you last night made him sick to his stomach. He needs you to know how he feels right now so that you’ll stay. That you’ll know that he values what the two of you have, his friendship with you meaning more to him than you’d ever know. 

The nickname warms your heart and you’re so overwhelmed with feelings that you don’t fully realize what you’re doing until your lips are on his. Eddie gasps into your mouth but eventually melts into, his lips capturing yours and he’s somehow become a natural overnight, kissing you like he had been doing it all his life. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble over and over against his lips and he just shushes you, his lips slotting between yours again, his arms tightening around your waist to pull you even closer as yours wrap around his neck. He’s smiling against your lips because he really can’t believe he’s kissing you, let alone in the empty school hallway because most of the girls would laugh or even want to throw up at the mere thought of kissing him. But you’re not most girls, he supposes. 

The kiss progressively gets more heated as his tongue flicks into your mouth as your fingers find their way into his hair and then suddenly, you’re in the boys bathroom, backing yourselves into a stall. As soon as you lock the door, Eddie presses you against it and you love the way he’s taking charge, this newfound confidence he has. But you don’t want him to feel like he has to do this just to make up for last night.

You push him away and quickly speak to quiet all of the fears you can see swirling around in his head just by the look on his face. Your hands are on his face so he has no choice but to look at you and for a second, you swear he’s going to cry. 

“Let’s slow down, baby. Nice and slow, okay?” You ask and he nods. “Nope, none of that,” you shake your head. I’m not mad at you. I never was. It was all just some miscommunication.”

“Miscommunication?” He supposes that is the right word for the situation

“You think I’m mad at you and I think you’re mad at me, but that’s not the case. Let’s get something clear right now, alright?” You ask and he nods again. “I had a great time last night. Genuinely, and I’m not saying this just to make you feel better, alright? You’re the best I’ve ever had.”

His eyes widen at your confession as he wasn’t expecting it in the slightest. No fucking way. You have to be pulling his leg. But you wouldn’t lie to him, right? Especially not about that kind of thing. Holy shit, he’s really better than Billy? That man has slept with pretty much every woman in Hawkins and somehow Eddie has been the best you’ve ever had? If he was anything like Billy, he’d be rubbing it in his face. 

“Wow,” Eddie nods, that dopey grin making its way upon his face and you want more than to pinch his cheeks because of how adorable he looks. 

“It’s feeding your ego, isn’t it, baby?” You ask and his cheeks flush. In response, he just kisses you again, his tongue sliding into your mouth again as his hands slide up your shirt. You test the waters by wrapping your lips around it and giving it a rough suck and you feel your panties getting soaked as a whine escapes the back of his throat. God, what you would give to suck him off. 

You can feel his cock getting hard against your crotch and quickly pull away, bringing your bottom lip between your lips as your gaze slowly moves down to where his dick is tenting in his pants. 

“I can take care of that if you’d like,” you smile, putting on a flirtatious tone and Eddie nods enthusiastically.

“God, please,” he whines. You unzip his pants and pull them along with his underwear down to his ankles before getting on your knees. You look him in the eyes to make sure he’s okay and he nods enthusiastically. 

You then take him into your mouth and swirl your tongue around the head, hollowing your cheeks as you give him a rough suck. Eddie’s hands press against the side of the stall as he lets out a loud moan. 

Your hand wraps around the base as your other one grabs onto this thigh, holding him in place. His head leans back as his eyes shut tight, feeling pleasure that not even how penchant can give him. 

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he hisses as you take more of him into your mouth, letting your tongue moved up and down the shaft as you try to as much of him as you can. 

He��s already close, you can feel it. 

“Jesus Christ,” he whines as his knees start to buckle. You’re holding onto both of his legs now as you try to keep him steady. He hasn’t got that far to go as he needs his release. 

He’s practically screaming as he reaches his orgasm, cum leaking into your mouth as someone bursts through the bathroom door. You can hear chatter coming from outside the stall, but you continue as Eddie freezes, putting his hand over his mouth to muffle yet another moan. 

It’s Jason and his buddies, you can tell by their voices as you’ve hung out with them more times than you can count because they all seem to want to get into Billy’s weird little club. 

“Well, look what we’ve got here, boys,” Jason laughs. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a blowie in action.” And in response to that, the rest of them start a commotion, banging on the door and jiggling the lock back and forth as they taunt you. 

“C’mon out,” Andy laughs as he rattles the door and as the rest of them are taunting, Jason stands on the toilet in the stall next to yours to get a look at who’s behaving badly and he lets out a gasp as he takes in Eddie’s flushed cheeks. 

You turn to Jason and glare and he lets out a laugh as the jokes just seem to write themselves. Eddie “the freak” Munson and Billy’s girl? Oh, it all was just too good. 

You swallow and stand to your knees, still making eye contact with Jason as you get off your knees, pushing yourself against Eddie as he gets himself dressed, his cheeks fully bright red. 

“Why don’t you take a picture, Carver?” You ask as you exit the stall and Eddie follows behind you once he’s dressed. “It’ll last longer.” 

He just glares and goes to get off the toilet, but his foot slips and lands in the bowl, a string of curse words falling from his lips. You, Eddie, and the others hurry to see what’s happened and you can’t help but laugh at the sight before you. 

“Well, isn’t karma just a bitch?” You shake your head. “I bet the rest of the team would love to hear about how you and your buddies are into voyeurism,” you wink as Jason pulls his foot out of the toilet, his shoe squelching as he hurries to grab some paper towels. 

You follow and stand right next to him, not afraid to get in his face. Eddie is right up against you, using your as a shield and you don’t mind one bit. You love to protect him and love that he feels safe with you. 

“And you’ll think of this when you want to tell Billy. And besides,” you shrug before moving over to the mirror, pulling a tube of lipstick from your backpack before applying the color to your lips then blot it out with your finger. “We wouldn’t want Chrissy to know about the Polaroids in your locker, would we?” 

You can see that he’s violently angry and he raises his hand, but your grab hold of his wrist before it can touch you. You whip around, your lips twisting into a smirk as you bend his arm backwards. 

“You can’t do shit and you want to know why? Because I have shit on not only you, but all of your boys here and the rest of the basketball team. So I would think about your actions very carefully. Because you walk around here like you’ve got the biggest dick but honestly, I think that’s just wishful thinking as I’ve unfortunately seen it and let’s just say it leaves a lot to be desired.” 

You hold up your pinky and the rest of the boys all make a commotion at your size reference. They’re all cackling and you just smile as Jason seethes with anger, his cheeks burning red. 

With that, you let his arm go and Jason and the rest of the guys file out of the bathroom, making sure to push past Eddie as they do so, calling him a freak as well as other names before they’re all out in the hallway, leaving the two of you alone. 

You look at him and think he’s gonna shrink in on himself, but he’s just smiling at you like an idiot as he steps closer to you, his hands moving to rest on your hips. 

“Eddie, I’m so-“ you go to apologize but his lips are on yours before you can. 

“That’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he mumbles against yours lips. “God, I love when you take charge like that. It makes me-“ he pauses, suddenly feeling embarrassed. 

“Makes you what?” You ask and in response, he pulls you close and presses his bulge against your crotch, showing you exactly what he means. “Oh-“ you gasp and look into his eyes that are getting darker by the second. 

“Why don’t we go back to your place and finish what we started last night, hm?” 

“God, please,” he whines and you take him by the hand, leading him out to the parking lot where his van sits. 

Eddie honestly can’t believe his luck as he hurries to open the passenger door for you. Shit, the prettiest girl in Hawkins wants to go back to his place and fuck him? He wants to know what he’s done in his past life in order to have deserved that. 

You get into the van before he closes the door and you can’t help but notice the tension and how different it is. The van is filled with nothing but sexual tension when Eddie gets inside and you want nothing more than for him to take you right there, but you know he won’t, not in public. 

You throw your backpack in the floorboard while Eddie’s ends up somewhere in the back before he starts the engine, pulling out of his space, speeding out of the parking lot and down the road. 

He really wants to speed like always, but he’s got precious cargo, so he’s going to slow down just to be sure you’re safe. He reaches over and turns the dials of the radio up as a metal song you somewhat recognize comes on. 

You must admit that it feels very weird to go back to being good friends as if last night hadn’t happened at all, but you’re grateful for it, hoping that now it can all be in the past so you can focus on the present. That seems to be what Eddie wants to do anyway. And you’re more than happy to oblige. 

You still can’t believe that out of all of the women in Hawkins that you’re the one he wants to be his first. But then again, maybe you can. He’s told you on more than one occasion that he trusts you more than anyone and that he considers you to be his best friend. 

To you, sex is sex, a meaningless transaction between two people that’s nothing but for the sole purpose of using each other for their bodies. But to Eddie, you know it’s much more than that. He wants his first time to mean something. You wanted the same thing for yourself, but all you got was a quick fuck in the backseat of Billy’s car and it was over before you could even process what was happening. 

It was something you felt like you had to do in order to make Billy like you, so he’d keep you around. And he was always so selfish in bed, taking and taking from you, not even caring if you were enjoying yourself. It eventually got to the point where you started faking it and he was none the wiser since he was so caught up in his own pleasure. 

Just from last night, though, you know what sex with Eddie will be different. He actually seems to care about what you like and had even been beating himself up because of how he had done too much too fast. You wanted to enjoy yourself, but ultimately, you wanted to make sure that this was a perfect first time for him. 

The van pulls up the familiar trailer and Eddie grabs his backpack before hurrying to your side and helping you out of your seat. Hand in hand, you head into the trailer where Wayne is sitting at the table, eating what looks like an early dinner before he has to go to work. 

Wayne has easily become a father figure to you since your parents aren’t really around and he treats you like you’re part of the family. Even though he doesn’t have a lot to give you since he’s always tight on money, he still reminds you that what’s his is yours. Because in his mind, this is your safe place, the spot you go to when you need to get away from your house. And he’s always there with a mug of his famous hot chocolate and a warm hug. If it’s especially bad, he’ll have Eddie run down to Family Video to rent your favorite movie so it’s ready when you show up. 

He beams when you walk through the door before grabbing his jacket to head out the door. As he’s putting it on, you approach him, waiting until he’s done to pull him into a tight hug. His arms immediately wrap around you and he gives you a tight squeeze as you bury your face into his chest. It’s moments like these where you feel the most safe. Because being in Wayne’s arms takes away the nightmares. And you suppose like uncle like nephew because the same always happens with Eddie too. 

“Well, you two kids have fun,” he says once you pull away, moving to ruffle Eddie’s hair. “I left some money for pizza on the counter. And don’t stay up too late, you hear me? You two still have school tomorrow.” That’s right. It’s only Monday. 

With that, Wayne flees the trailer, leaving you and Eddie alone once again. Eddie heads into the kitchen to pick up the phone to call the pizza place and you stand next to him as he speaks, ordering the usual that you always share.

You look up at him as he wraps the cord around his hand, something he always does to stimulate his brain. And you love all of his cute little quirks like that. If it’s not the phone cord, he’s fiddling with his fingers, sometimes yours when you let him hold your hand when he’s particularly overwhelmed. 

He’s not the guy everyone says he is, that much is true. People just don’t like that’s so unapologetically himself. He’s nothing but sweet and kind and you hate that everyone just jumps to conclusions because he plays a game with his friends.

 You wish they could all see what you do, but you know they won’t. They’re all so stuck in their ways that they won’t even stop for a second to consider that maybe they’re in the wrong. But it doesn’t matter anyway because you kind of want him all to yourself.

Eddie hangs up the phone then looks at you, his mind wandering to all the things you could show him. And he wants you to. He wants so badly to finish off where you started off last night. After all, wasn’t that why you were there in the first place?

And before he can think too much about it, his lips are on yours as his hands grab onto whatever he can get to first and that happens to be your cheeks. It starts off soft and sweet but then he gets more rough with it, his hands sliding into your hair as they press into your scalp. He’s kissing you like he’s been doing it his whole life and you can’t help but get lost in him, the feeling of his lips on yours absolutely addicting. 

You grab hold of his hands and he’s concerned about how much he likes feeling yours in his. They’re always soft and warm compared to his cool, rough ones. You’re giving him a look and he knows you have something important to say because you’ve got that look. The one that always means that you have something important to say. 

But he doesn’t mind. In fact he likes it. He likes seeing this side of you, the side that’s not afraid to take charge, stealing exactly what it is that you want from him. You’re needy and hungry and goddamn are your lips addicting. 

“You’re so pretty,” you murmur as your hands slide up his shirt. “And you’re such a good boy. Gonna be a good one for me tonight?” You ask as Eddie’s hands white knuckle the edge of the counter since he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. 

“Mhm,” he nods, too caught up in the way your tongue slides into his mouth. He remembers what you had done last night and wraps his tongue around it, giving it a rough suck that elicits a whine to fall from your lips. 

He likes the way it sounds and you can tell because you can feel him harden slightly against you. You think he’s going to ask to take it to the next step, but he doesn’t, his lips finding yours again as your hands stay against his bare back, not roaming around like he wants them to. 

And now you’re pulling him close to you, wrapping your arms around his neck as you’re backing out of the kitchen and towards his bedroom, closing the door behind you. Your hands are moving higher and higher as Eddie pulls away, lifting his arms so you can remove his shirt and you do, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside before you pull him to you again, taking his hands in yours and looking him in the eyes. 

“If I do something you don’t like or you just want to stop, let me know. And on the opposite of that, if I do something you do like, don’t be afraid to make noise. In fact, the louder the better.”

“I understand,” he nods, threading your fingers together. “Thank you for making me feel good. That means a lot to me. And I’ll do whatever you want. This is just as much about you as it is about me.”

Your cheeks heat at his words, feeling your heart warm. You had only ever slept with one person and he never did what you wanted. So while Eddie’s words make you feel special, you can’t help but think about how foreign they sounded. 

“You’re so sweet,” you smile, fighting back your tears as you pull him in for another kiss, this one more needy, more hungry than your others. He licks into your mouth and lets it roam around, wanting to taste every single inch of it, wanting to familiarize himself with it. 

“Undress me,” you mumble against his lips and he pauses, pulling away from you as his eyes widen. The words have come out so naturally as if it was something you had asked him to do all the time. He saw you naked last night, but this is different. He hadn’t really been thinking about it, thinking more about how he was inside you and what he was supposed to do. He was really going to appreciate you now.

He feels nervous but excited as he raises his hands to the hem of your shirt, pulling up on it and you lift your arms so he can pull it over your head, revealing a black bra that he can’t stop staring at. He then pulls himself out of his trance and moves on to your jeans. You can see his hands shaking and you want nothing more than to pull him into a hug. 

“Oh, you poor thing,” you say, bringing your hands up to rest on top of his. “C’mere,” you hold your arms out and he’s quick to pull you against him, his head resting on your chest while his arms wrap around your waist. 

“There’s no need to be nervous, baby,” you tell him as you bring your hand up to stroke his hair the way you know he likes. “It’s just me.” 

But that’s the thing, Eddie thinks. It’s just you. You’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen and you can sleep with any guy you want, so why him? Why’s he so special? He’s got a lot of insecurity surrounded by not being wanted, so you wanting him…in this way, is making him feel out of place. 

“Yeah, exactly,” he replies, pulling back to look at you. “It's you. You’re beautiful and could have any guy you want. So why me, y/n?” He’s pouting as he lowers his head and you want to kiss him stupid, to take him right there on his bed to show him just how much this means to you and that he’s not just someone you want to cross off a list. 

You know he’s asking a genuine question, but you can’t help but laugh. You thought it was obvious. He’s your best friend and all you want to do is make him feel good. You want to tell him about how often you’ve thought about him in that way. That you’ve thought about him almost every time you’ve slept with Billy, just wishing that Eddie had taken his place

“You wanna know why I chose you?” You ask, wrapping your arms around his neck and he just nods. “Because you’re sweet,” you press a kiss to his cheek. “And kind.” His other cheek. “And adorable.” This one is pressed to his nose and he feels his cheeks flush with all of the compliments. “And not to mention stupidly hot.” The last kiss is for his lips and he quickly melts into you, his hands moving up to your bra as that was all the convincing he needed. He somehow unhooks it with ease then steps away so it can fall between the two of you. 

When he takes your naked torso, he lets out a gasp at how absolutely breathtaking you look. He lets his eyes rake over you, stopping at your tits, really taking the time to check you out since he hadn’t last night. You’re definitely the most beautiful naked woman he’s seen, not that he’s seen  as any in real life besides yours, but he’s still sure that he’s right. 

“You can touch me, Eddie,” you assure him. “It’s okay. I know you want to.” And he does, so badly. So he slowly reaches up and brings his hands up to them, letting you fix them so they’re making the correct gesture. 

His thumbs press against your nipples and you instruct him on what to do, moaning loudly as his thumbs move in circular motions, leaning into him as you do so. He’s getting harder against you, feeling himself progressively tenting in his jeans as more moans fall from your lips as he continues to work. 

The whole thing feels foreign to him, but you just feel so good in his mouth that he wants to continue. He hasn’t been doing it for long, but he thinks he could easily do it for hours. Especially when you’re making such pretty sounds. And they sound even better in real life than they have in his dreams. You’re so loud and he’s absolutely eating it up.

“That’s it,” you moan. “Just like that-fuck.” Eddie doesn’t know what he’s doing, but the next thing he knows, his mouth is on your nipple, his tongue swirling around it he gives it a rough suck. “So you’ve got foreplay down for sure,” you tell him through labored breaths. 

His movements continue, sucking on your nipple as his tongue flicks against it, but then he decides to test the waters by bringing it between his teeth and that seems to unleash something in you. You moan so loudly and he just knows you’re coming by the way you arch your back, your nails scratching down his as your head falls backwards, his name coming out of your mouth in the most hot way he’s ever heard. 

He’s feeling cocky now as he’s successfully gotten you off. And he was able to do it with just his mouth so he thinks that has to mean something. He wonders if Billy’s ever done that, making you come so loudly even though he shouldn’t be comparing himself to him. Things with you and Billy are clearly over, so he doesn’t need to be thinking about him anymore. He’s no longer a threat anymore.

“Fuck, need you inside me,” you whine as you’re coming down from your orgasm. “Take off my pants. God, he’s bricked now and he finds himself needing to be inside you just as much as you do. So you’re both taking each other’s pants off, struggling to do so, so you take your own pants off until you’re both in your underwear. 

And the next thing you know, you’re both fully naked and Eddie is lying flat on the bed, all ready for you as you move to straddle him, but you pause before you can get into position. He sees a concerned look on your face and he’s quick to sit up, grabbing hold of your hips as he sits up, a look of concern flashing across his face as he prepares to do whatever you need, whatever he can to make that furrow of your eyebrows to go away. 

“What’s wrong, honeybee?” He asks as his fingers move up and down your back gently. 

“We used my last condom last night, and obviously I didn’t think this was going to happen, so-” You cut yourself off as you chew on your bottom lips. Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen you this nervous and it’s internally panicking. You’re usually so laid back about everything so he can’t understand why something like not having a condom is causing you to stress.

“We don’t have to use one,” he says and clearly that was the wrong answer by the way you look at him. You haven’t even done anything yet and he’s already fucked up again. But he’s willing to fix it. To do anything to see that pretty smile again.

“But what about-”

“Hey,” he cuts you off, his voice so soft and reassuring that you take a deep breath, trying so hard to match his energy. “It’s okay. I have one.” He leans over to his bedside table and pulls one out of the drawer and he sees you visibly relax as he presents it to you.

You open it and roll it onto him before topping him, the moan that falls from his lip sounding like music to your ears and you begin to ride him slow as his hips buck against yours at the same pace. Together, you move as one as you lean over him as your hands find his. You watch him come undone underneath you, grateful that it’s going much better than it did the night before. 

“Fuck, honeybee,” he whines. “This is so much better than I was imagining.” He’s cringing as soon as the words leave his mouth, but all you can do is smile. 

“Oh, so you’ve been imagining it?” You tease, but really, you’re nothing but flattered. That he’s been thinking about it in the way that you have. “Well that makes two of us.” 

“All the time,” he tells you. “When I go to bed, in the shower, even in-” he’s cut off by an orgasm rolling through him and you watch in amazement, fascinated as you watch him come absolutely undone beneath you. 

He’s a little embarrassed by how quickly he’s come, but you seem to be into it, encouraging him, talking him through it. And god does, this beat the nights where he has nothing but his lotion, sock and hand to keep him company. Now that he’s had the real thing, masturbation is never going to compare in his eyes. 

“Yeah, just like that, baby. Such a good boy for me, hm?” You coo and he swears he’s going to all over again just by hearing that nickname. He eats it up every time. 

Just when you’re going to make him come again, there’s a knock on the door, making the two of you pause. You had completely forgotten about the pizza as other things had taken over your mind. You let out a laugh then climb off Eddie before helping him sit up. 

“I’ll get it,” you tell him as you throw on his boxers and t-shirt before standing in front of him. “Just make sure to save room for dessert,” you tell him before pressing a kiss to his lips and then you disappear into the hallway while Eddie hurries to dispose of the condom and clean himself up before he finds another pair of boxers and t-shirt. 

Once he’s dressed, he sits on the bed feeling nothing but giddy as he’s actually had sex with his dream girl. He collapses onto his bed with a contented sigh as he waits for you to come back. A grin is plastered on his face as he stares up at the ceiling and he can still feel himself inside of you. He’s riding a high that drugs have never been able to give him and that orgasm was easily the best one he’s ever had. 

You come back into the room looking like nothing but a dream and he’s looking at you like you’ve hung the moon as you set the pizza box on the bed along with two plates and bottles of water. 

You hand Eddie a plate and he doesn’t think he’s ever been happier in his life. You’ve shared more meals together than you can count throughout your friendship but this one feels different. It feels more intimate, almost like you’re a couple but you’re clearly not. At least, that’s what Eddie keeps reminding himself. 

You sit right next to him and Eddie can feel your warmth emanating off your body. And seeing you in his clothes is doing something to him. Why is he more nervous to sit next to you than he was to sleep with you? Maybe it’s because it’s brought you closer, makes him realize just how in love with you he is even though he knows his feelings aren’t reciprocated. And that’s perfectly fine with Eddie. He doesn’t care what you are to him as long as you’re in his life. 

The two of you polish off the pizza then go for multiple rounds between Eddie’s sheets before you fall asleep in each other’s arms. Eddie’s convinced that’s the best sleep he’s ever gotten and he knows that’s just because you’re there. There’s something about you that always seems to calm the screams that always circle his mind when he’s alone or with anyone who’s not you. 

And you sleep well too, deciding that you’ll be able to do so as long as you’re in his arms, and you intend to be for as long as he’ll have you. It’s not like your parents will notice or care anyway. They’re either out for the night or arguing so loud that you can’t focus on anything else. Eddie’s trailer is the one place where you feel like you can actually get some peace and quiet. 

Ever since that night in Eddie’s trailer, the two of you have been fucking on any surface you can find. You’ve done it on his couch, the back of his van, the boys’ bathroom at school, the janitor’s closet, and even on the hellfire table when you had met up with him after the session. It’s all just a cycle and neither of you can seem to get enough, as one of you is always initiating it and it’s always obvious where it’s going. 

And even though it’s only been almost a week, Eddie’s become a natural. He somehow always knows what you want and when you want it, giving it to you with no question. He knows where to touch and what to say, god is he good at the dirty talk. He may be shy in public, but as soon as it's just the two of you, he’s got a filthy mouth. 

But even when you’re not sleeping together, you’re still attached at the hip wherever you go. If you’re at his trailer, you’re cuddled up on the couch and at school, you’re either walking hand in hand or have your arms wrapped around each other. And when you can’t see each other for whatever reason, you’re on the phone, yapping into the early hours of the morning when you’re definitely supposed to be asleep. 

This is the happiest either of you have been and even though you don’t exactly know what you and Eddie are, you’re just happy to have him around because of how happy he makes you. You know that the elephant in the room should be addressed, but you’re terrified to have that conversation. You’ve already had it with Billy and look where that got you. 

Eddie knows there’s something you’re not saying. He can see it in your mannerisms and even right on your face, but he doesn’t want to pry. He doesn’t want to get into your business because that’s yours. He doesn’t like to pry. But he wants to know what you’re thinking. He wants you to just come out and say it even though he can’t get himself to ask. So you both just dance around the subject since your bodies do all of the talking anyway. 

-

You find yourselves in the back of Eddie’s van once again in the parking lot of the grocery store. You know how public it is, but that makes it even more exciting. You’re on all fours as he fucks you from behind, his cock pounding into you as one of his hands is massaging your tit. You’re facing the back so anyone could see pretty much all of you as they pass by, but it’s not like you’re looking anyway. 

Your eyes are shut tight as continuous moans fall from your lips as Eddie’s encouraging you with the most filthy words. He’s slowly fitting all of himself inside you inch by inch and even though you feel like you’re going to be torn apart, you hardly mind. In fact, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“So good, Eddie, oh my god,” you whine. 

“Yeah, you like that, honeybee?” He asks as his fingers dig into your hips. You like how he still uses your sweet nickname that always juxtaposes his dirty words. You don’t know where it came from, but it always seems to make your cold heart thaw just a little bit every time you hear it. 

“More,” you moan. “Harder.” He hesitantly does as you ask and pounds into you even harder, a louder moan falling from your lips as he does so. 

Billy pulls into the parking lot, muttering to himself about how he always has to do everything. Of course Susan just had to be out of pumpkin for a recipe and of course she sent him to the store because Neil can never get off his lazy ass and do anything for his wife. 

He’s still muttering to himself about his shitty life when he sees a van rocking back and forth a few feet away. And because he’s a perv, he just has to see who’s getting it on in the grocery store parking lot. He recognizes the van, but he can’t figure out where from. 

He approaches the back and peers in, feeling himself getting hard as he’s just thinking about seeing what he thinks he will. Whoever this chick is, she’s hot, and the way she comes makes him feel tight in his jeans. He’s seconds away from climbing in the van himself and taking over while he makes the bastard watch.

The girl looks familiar to him, though. He’s definitely seen her but he can’t quite pinpoint where. Maybe he’s fucked her? That seems likely considering he’s fucked pretty much all of the girls in Hawkins…and their moms. But then it all clicks in his brain as he sees you moan and now he’s angry, especially when he gets a glimpse of who’s behind you.

You and Munson?

He thinks he’s going to be sick as his hands slam against the van, causing both of you to jump. But he’s gone when you two look up, continuing what your doing. You’re reaching your orgasm and your moans are loud as your body starts to go limp. 

You don’t mean to say it, the words just come out because of how overwhelmed with pleasure you are. It’s just three words, but they hold so much meaning, hold so much power. 

“I love you,” you cry, and as soon as the words leave your mouth, you both pause, the sudden realization of what you’ve said washing over the two of you. Eddie’s quick to pull out and he grabs your shoulders and twists you around, pinning you to the floor of the van so he can see your face. 

You think he’s going to make a run for it, but he just stays there, staring down at you with his pretty brown eyes. And then a smile kicks up at the corners of his mouth and now he’s full on grinning. You cover your face in embarrassment, wanting to take it all back, but he grabs hold of your hands and pins them to the floorboard so you can’t hide. 

Eddie lowers himself down onto you and he pushes some of your sweaty hair away from your forehead, his grin faltering, but the smile is still very much there. 

“I love you too, honeybee,” he replies as his lips find your cheek, then your other one, peppering your face in kisses as multiple “I love you’s” come from his mouth, the giggles coming from yours sounding like music to his ears. “I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you. But if we’re getting specific, it was that night we watched Carrie and you snuggled into my chest.”

“You’ve loved me that long?” You ask and he pecks your lips. 

“I have,” he nods, his cheeks going pink as he lays his head on your chest while you run your fingers through his hair. 

“I think I’ve loved you for a while, but I realized it when I left that night, thinking that you were mad at me and I realized how devastated I was to possibly not have you in my life.” 

You feel your heart hammering in your chest as you confess to him, the feeling of vulnerability making you feel sick. But that all disappears when he leans up to look at you, resting his chin on your chest as he smiles up at you. 

Eddie knows how scary you find sharing your feelings so he’s honored that you’re being honest with him. That you value him so much that you feel like you can tell him what you’d never want to tell anyone else. And that just shows just how much you value him as a person. 

“Wow,” he replies with a smile. 

“And I was thinking…that if you’re up for it…we could go to Nancy’s party tomorrow night. As a couple.” 

Eddie’s smile grows even wider as he pins you to the floor one more time, peppering your face in kisses again, your laugh even louder this time. 

“I’d love to,” he says as his lips find yours, his fingers intertwining with yours as he smiles into the kiss. And the two of you stay like that for a while, until your lips are kiss-bitten and he lays his head on your chest again, thinking to himself that he’s finally done something right in his. 

“The blue one,” Eddie says as you hold up two dresses for him to choose. He’s lying on your bed as you get ready for the party, staring at you with so much love, completely enthralled by your routine. 

“That’s the one I wanted you to pick,” you reply as you pull it off the hanger and throw it over your head. Eddie is quick to stand behind you and he zips up your dress, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he does so. 

“You look beautiful,” he says. “But you know where it would look even better?” He asks, his lips right by the shell of your ear. “On the floor,” he whispers and his hot breath sends a chill up your spine. “We could stay in,” he presses another kiss to your shoulder, moving up to your neck. 

“Eddie,” you laugh and turn around so you’re facing him, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands rested on your waist. “We have to go,” you tell him. “I promised Nancy.”

“Alright,” he sighs. “But you owe me after.” 

“Of course I do,” you nod and press a kiss to his lips before you grab your shoes and let him lead you out to his van.

Everyone’s already at Nancy’s when the two of you show up and Eddie squeezes your hand as you pull him through the crowd, pressing his body against your back as he’s suddenly nervous again. He had hyped himself up the whole way there, but now he’s feeling like his shy self and is trying so hard to resist the urge to lock himself in the bathroom the whole night. 

You’re the only reason why he’s even there. He can’t say no to your pretty face even though parties are the bane of his existence. Well, he doesn’t know that for sure since he’s never actually been to one that wasn’t hosted by someone in Hellfire. But they’re not really his thing. He hates the loud music and all of the chatter gets into his head and drives him crazy. 

But he’s there for you. Because he loves you so much that he’ll do whatever you ask. And he saw how happy you were when you were getting ready and there was no way he was going to disappoint you.

So he lets you pull him into the living room where the host of the evening is conversing with Robin. You pull Eddie over to them with a smile and theirs match yours once they spot you. 

“There she is,” Nancy says as she pulls you into a hug and Robin follows. “And it looks like I owe Robin five dollars.”

“Why do you owe her money?” You ask and she and Robin giggle. 

“She bet me that you’d bring Eddie. But I only owe her if the two of you are together.”

“We are,” you confirm and you and Eddie are wearing matching grins. As shy as he is, he wants the world to know that he’s your boyfriend so he doesn’t mind in the slightest that you’re telling your friends. In fact, he prefers it. It means that you feel so secure in your relationship that you want to tell people about it. 

“Good, because I owe Steve,” Robin replies and Nancy’s quick to elbow her in the stomach. 

“What she means is that we’re happy for you guys. It’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it, Rob?”

That makes you wonder how obvious the two of you have been and how neither of you saw it. But you can see where they’re coming from as you’ve always been very close to Eddie, both emotionally and physical.

“It sure has,” you hear a voice behind you and feel your skin crawl as you know exactly who it is. You don’t want to turn around, but force yourself, making sure that your mind isn’t playing tricks on you. You have to confirm that you’re not in some sort of fucked up nightmare. 

You gasp when you see Billy standing a few feet away, slowly making his way closer as one arm holds onto a girl’s waist and his other hand is holding a cigarette that he’s putting to his lips. He takes a drag and blows it into the air. You grab hold of Eddie’s hand and squeeze it as Billy approaches, blinking a few times and even going as far as pinching yourself to be positive that he was actually there.

“So you two, huh?” He asks, referring to the both of you with his cigarette. “So it looks like you got my sloppy seconds. That’s fine. She’s damaged goods anyway.”

By the way he’s speaking, you can tell he’s drunk, so much so that you can smell it on him even with him standing so far away. You can see how angry Eddie is already getting out of the corner of your eye. 

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?” He asks as he removes his arm from the girl, slightly pushing her aside as he puts his cigarette out on the mantle above the fireplace. ��Better be careful, Munson. She might try to baby trap you.” 

That’s a low fucking blow and Billy knows it. He knows how to hit you right where it hurts and he can see it’s worked as horror flashes across your face. Good, that will show you for leaving him. 

You remember it all so vividly, the flashbacks coming back to you in full force. It hits you all so hard that you have to hold onto Eddie as you try to shake it out of your head, but you can’t. 

“I have a surprise for you,” you tell Billy as you hold up the test for him to see. You think he’s going to jump for joy, but you guess you should have known better as he steps closer to you, anger evident on his face. 

“What the fuck is that?” He asks as he points to the test. 

“It’s a test,” you reply, your smile faltering, your voice getting smaller. 

“Yeah,” he spits. “A positive one and there’s no fucking way I’m having a baby.”

“Well, you don’t have to. I can raise it on my own.” Before you can turn away from him, he grabs onto your wrist and squeezes it until you’re wincing. 

“Yeah, that’s not fucking happening. I don’t need people finding out that I fathered a child and I  most certainly don’t need that little fucker trying to find me when it gets older.” He lets go of your hand then takes the tests and throws it in the trash before turning back to you. “We’re getting rid of it and you’re not going to tell anyone, got it?” 

“Y/n…what’s he talking about?” Eddie asks as he steadies you and you’re not ready to tell him the truth.

“Tell him, y/n,” Billy commands. “Tell him about how you were so hellbent on having a baby that you tricked me into it.”

“I didn’t trick you,” you correct, shaking off the nervousness in your voice. “It’s not my fault you never wear a condom and didn’t pull out in time.”

You’ve got an audience now and you want the floor to swallow you whole while Billy is eating up the attention. That’s the whole reason why he’s there. He just wants to put on a show, to make you regret what you’ve done. Because if Billy can’t be happy, no one can.

You feel like you’re going to throw up and have to step closer to Eddie to make yourself feel more comfortable. You want to leave but know you can’t, because then Billy will win and you can’t have that. You want to be the champion this time.

“Well it doesn’t matter anymore,” Billy chuckles as he grabs a cup from some girl’s hand then downs it before throwing it to the side. He then takes a few strides until he’s standing in front of you. “Because the little thing doesn’t exist anymore, does it?” He asks and you’re so pulled into the flashback that you don’t hear everyone gasp as he makes the revelation. 

All of a sudden, you’re thrown back in the waiting room where you had to sit alone, unbeknownst to you that Billy was fucking some other girl right after dropping you off. He was making you get rid of the baby that you wanted and he didn’t even have the decency to sit with you. 

When you come out of your trance just in time to see Eddie throw a punch Billy’s way and Billy retaliates but Eddie is quick to move out of the way, causing Billy’s fist to collide with your face. Everyone gasps as you cover your nose with your hands and the girls pull you back as Eddie gets in a few more punches, causing Billy to fall to the floor before Eddie takes you up stairs to the bathroom to help clean you up. 

You’re sobbing as Eddie pulls you up the stairs and once you’re there, he pulls you into the bathroom, making you sit on the toilet as he rifles through the cabinet above the sink to find what he needs to help you. 

He can’t fucking believe it. He knew Billy was a dick, but he didn’t know that he went around making his hookups get abortions, especially not you. He wants to ask exactly what happened, but he knows it’s not his place. So he just gathers what he needs then moves to kneel in front of you. 

He cleans up your wound and you feel guilt rising inside you as you think about the fact that he knows your biggest secret and you weren’t even the one to tell him. It makes you feel so sick that Billy had shown up with the intention of embarrassing you, but you guess you shouldn’t be surprised. And he got what he wanted anyway, even if he got a bloody and possibly broken nose in return.

“It happened last year…around this time,” you tell him as he hands you a piece of toilet paper which you put against your nose, wincing at the pain. “I told him that I was pregnant and he…I…” You try to find the words, but Eddie presses his hands against your cheeks to stop you. 

“Hey, hey, let’s not focus on that right now, okay?” He asks. “We’re gonna fix up your nose and then we’re gonna go home and watch a movie and once you’ve slept on it and have a clear head, then you can tell me.” 

“Okay,” you nod, knowing that you can’t fight him on it. And you don’t want to anyway. You agree and think it's too much for one night. 

“Now let’s get you cleaned up, okay, honeybee?” You nod and let him clean you up, noticing how often he’s called you that nickname and now you want to know where it came from, the meaning behind it. 

“Why do you call me ‘honeybee’?” You ask, looking up at him and he laughs in response. 

“Because you’re sweet like honey, but you sting like a bee,” he winks. “Now hold on, this might sting,” he says as he brings a cotton pad covered in alcohol up to the wound. 

You watch him as he works and can’t believe that after all the shit you’ve gone through that you finally found someone who loves you for who you are. That he doesn’t think low of you because of where you come from or your home life or the way you react to things because of your trauma.

Eddie sees the version of you that you show to only him and as you’ve gotten closer to him, you’ve felt the walls that you’ve spent years building fall away. You feel more like yourself around him and less like the shell that you had been when you hung out with Billy. And when you look into the future, you can see the two of you together, rocking your newborn on the front porch of the house you share together. And then you’d take her over to Wayne’s so he could watch her while the two of you go out for a much needed date night. And maybe, if you play your cards right, that’s exactly what will happen.

[signanothername]

does your killer believe in therapy?

Hmmmmm

I’d say he knows therapy is a great way to help with mental/emotional health, he does believe it can help, but he won’t go himself

I don’t think he’d feel comfortable letting things out in front of a stranger, especially when he believes that this stranger probably wouldn’t even fathom or understand the extent of what he went through, not when Killer himself struggles to understand it, to understand himself

I can still see Killer trying to go if Color gently pushed him or gave him a nudge to try it, but Killer would refuse to go unless Color comes with him, whether simply waiting for him outside the room or even go with him inside the room during his therapy session, he especially wouldn’t go right after he’s saved, maybe after a while he would, but definitely not immediately after

Cause in reality, Killer would be scared to actually sit and process the amount of conditioning, abuse and horrible things he went through, the horrible things he did to others, he’s also extremely dissociated from himself and I can see him not wanting to take a deeper look into himself, a bit scared to look at himself and find that there’s truly nothing left of him that’s truly worth saving in his eyes

To understand oneself is a scary journey, especially when you fear that you won’t find what you’re hoping to find

Not only that, but Killer generally is extremely secretive and is very suspicious and not easily trusting of others, so therapy might take a while to actually crack his wall enough to let things out, especially with the fact Killer generally doesn’t like to have people question him about himself or what he considers personal, and if the therapist pressures Killer to answer or makes him feel forced to talk, it will only serve to make him close in on himself (even turn him violent if pushed too much)

Killer would definitely be a very uncooperative patient at first, and he certainly would dissociate so bad he’s just locked in stage 2 at the first few sessions, and I think the only reason it might not go so badly is cause Color is there (maybe an emotional support kitty too :D), otherwise, I don’t think it’ll go well

I still would love to see Killer actually go to therapy tho, he deserves to process the shit he went through, he deserves to heal <333

[awkness]

Written in the Stars

Platonic Yandere Older Brother & Younger Selkie Genderneutral Reader

Your home life is tense at the best of times, with your mother fickle and moody and your father more concerned with her than his children. It would be complete misery without your brother, Cillian, who looked after you the way your parents should have, a bright light in your gloomy days.

But as family secrets come to the surface and your life starts to unravel, you're forced to wonder if your brother is any better than the parents that raised him.

Content Warnings: confinement, forced marriage (not between reader), unhealthy relationships, abandonment issues, mentions of mental illness, child abuse, child endangerment, isolation, death, and general yandere shenanigans. Let me know if I missed anything

Word Count: 10.5k

Authors Note: I played it pretty fast and loose with this one so I have no idea when exactly this takes place, but it's somewhere before the industrial revolution in Ireland. So if you're wondering why there's no modern technology, that's why lol also this turned out way longer then it was supposed to, I have no idea why, it was supposed to be a quick 2k story and then it just got away from me. Whoops. Also the mother and fathers story is loosely based on traditional fairytale of fish wives and selkies. I remember reading a couple and thinking "wouldn't it be messed up if they had children?" And. Well. You can tell me how messed up it turned out lol

You're sick. You were born sick, and you always will be. It's all you remember.

Your first memory was of little four year old you wandering out of the house. Father was fishing, Cillian was tending to the animals and Mother was resting because of sickness as per usual, so there was no one to stop you. No concerned caregiver to bustle you back into the house and scold you for your carelessness as you pouted for being denied your will.

You simply walked out the front door.

You had no understanding of what you were doing. Just a unceasing tug propelling you out and way from the house until the air smelled of salt, and you could hear the faint crashing of waves steadily growing louder.

Then there was the sea.

Your memories get fuzzy then, as your mind grew clouded by pure, blinding need. But you do remember the feel of grass slowly turning to sand under your bare feet. The way the rolling of the waves enveloped your mind completely, your eyes unable to move away.

Then your feet hit the cold of the water, and you snap awake, looking around, finally aware of where you are, and how far away from home it was. Confused and on the verge of panic, you try to call out for your brother only for your eyes to be pulled back into the blue, and all thoughts are gone, and you feel a deep, primordial comfort, the same comfort you imagine children feel when being embraced by their mother.

You step forward.

First, it's up to your feet, then your knees, then your waist. The salt water saps away at your body heat the deeper you go, but you don't mind it, you don't mind anything at all. After all, you're right where you're meant to be.

The salt water is almost up to your chest when you're swept off your feet and taken away from the water. You begin to thrash and cry, a horrible, searing pain in your chest at being separated from the sea, like a part of your being was torn from your body. Your cries are so loud, you don't even realize that it's Cillian who took you away until he turns you toward him and starts yelling at you.

The specifics of it are lost on you, but it's not hard to guess, given the circumstances. What you do remember is his young, acne covered face contorted in unfamiliar anger that you've never seen before or since.

It might have frightened you more if it wasn't for the immense pain and loss you were feeling.

But yelling wasn't enough for him. He starts shaking you by the shoulders and demands why you were there in the first place. You were still crying, nothing but running snot and big, hot tears, but you managed to wail an answer, even if it wasn't the one he wanted.

Put me back, put me back. I'm supposed to be there. It hurts. Put me back.

The shaking stops, and so does the yelling. There's nothing but your loud, desperate sobs as you beg to walk back into the sea.

Without warning, he picked you up and began to make the trip home.

You started to thrash again, increasing loud "NO NO NO"s running out of your mouth as your soft, weak body tries to slip out, but his grip is iron. He only squeezes you tighter until you eventually tire.

You spend the rest of the trip shivering in his arms, finally able to feel the cold again.

When you arrive home, he ushers you into your room and tells you to change out of your sea-soaked clothes as he heads towards another part of the house.

You obey, more out of habit then anything else, your mind still numb. When you finish, you sit and wait until he comes and grabs you, taking you into your parent's room.

Mother was sitting up in bed.

Cillian placed you beside her, and for a strange, uncanny moment, you stare into her unblinking, dark eyes. It's all you can do.

This moment last so long, you think she has fallen into one of her stupors. But she blinks, and the spell is broken. With her same blank face, she pats the bed. You tentatively comply, taking your place next to her.

"Cillian has said you've been to the ocean. Is this true?"

Her voice is soft, sweet, slow, and so foreign on your ears.

You nod, refusing to look into her eyes again.

"Tell me, what was it like?"

Your little mouth twist into a grimace. Something deep in you tells your mind to keep silent.

Your brother steps in.

"They were going to drown, Ma! They said-"

"Hush, Cillian."

She didn't spare him a glance, eyes trained on you.

Her hand snakes over your face, her cold flesh cupping your face as she turns your head to face her. Her eyes burrow into yours, and you can't help but feel small and weak. You have no more will to resist.

"Why did you go down there?"

"It was calling me."

"What was?"

"The sea, it was singing to me. I needed to go to it. I couldn't help myself"

For the first time in your life, you saw your mother smile.

It was a disturbed smile. The kind that didn't reach her eyes, that looked more like bared teeth then a sincere display of joy.

"I knew it. Your father tried to hide it, but I knew the moment you were born. You're just like me."

She let you go, and without another word, laid down, with her back turned to her children.

The entire thing disturbed and confused you, and you immediately looked to Cillian for explanation and reassurance.

Instead, you saw him frozen, a look of terror on his face as he stared at Mother's form.

But then he caught your eye, schooled his features into something more neutral, and carried you out of the room, out of the house, and into the sheep pen, where you wordlessly helped him take care of the animals until your Father came home.

Father was much more laissez-faire about the whole ordeal. Cillian explained everything to him, nerves alight after Mothers declaration, and to your Fathers credit, he listened patiently, never once interrupting the younger boys nervous speech. When Cillian was done, Father turned to you, and in a disturbingly casual manner, explained to you that your mother had passed on her sickness to you.

When you asked when it would go away, he laughed until Cillian yelled at him to stop.

That was when you got the news that though it wasn't as potent as your mother's illness, it was still permanent. You would live and die with this affliction.

You stood there dumbly as your father idly ruffled your head and told you that there were worse things to have. You think he was about to tell you to get ready for bed before Cillian exploded on him.

It was obvious you had no place in the conversation anymore, and you tried to make your way to your room before Cillian snatched you and took you to his room, his face red with tears.

You slept in his bed that night.

The following day, you were no longer allowed to stay in the house and play like you usually did. Instead, Cillian made you follow him wherever he went, not letting you stray from his line of sight. When your father came home that following day, he brought with him a bell at Cillians' request, which you were made to wear at all times, even as you slept.

Slowly, more symptoms began to manifest. At times, your mind would fog over, unable to focus on anything for periods of time. The sound of waves would ring through your ear, though you were nowhere near the shore. And occasionally, dreams of the sea would haunt you. Beautiful, painful dreams that would leave you crying in your wake, which in turn woke up poor Cillian. But ever the loving brother, he would go to your side and sooth you until you fell asleep again. In the case of especially distressing dreams, he would sleep with you, and no nightmares would dare plague you when Cillian was with you.

And, on very rare instances, you would feel it again. That same tug that changed your world, that demanded you return to the ocean where you belong. Your mind would switch off, and your feet would move of their own accord towards the shore. But you would misstep, or trip, or some other mishap would occur, and the bell would ring. The spell would break just long enough for you to run back towards Cillian and tell him what was happening before you slipped away again. He'd take you in his arms and mutter soothing words, keeping you close until the episode passed.

But those were few, and grew fewer as you grew older. Most days, the worst of your symptoms were brain fog, which was not pleasant but much better than walking towards a cold death in the sea.

No, most days were rather enjoyable. You would wake up to Cillian making breakfast and wait to eat until he finished serving your mother, who only ate in her room. Then you would follow him around as he did his errands for the day, sometimes helping, sometimes busying yourself with your own task. If he got done early, he would read to you or help you with your writing. He used to try and help with your arithmetic, but it became obvious that he wasn't good enough with numbers to teach you. Then, if your mind was clear, you would help with dinner and sneak bites whenever Cillian wasn't looking. Dinner would then be ready, and Father would usually be home by then, give you both polite greetings, and then he would take two plates and make his way to his room to spend the rest of the evening with Mother, as you and your brother spent the evening with each other until bed.

True, there were times when it felt like you were being smothered by Cillian and his constant worry and argue that you didn't need the constant monitoring. Sometimes, these arguments would get the both of you irritated beyond reason with each other, having you both oscillating between petty bickering and the silent treatment.

But those were few and far in between. Most of that time was marked by the games you would play with him when you should have been working, by the silly songs he taught you when you got bored of watching him work, of the gentle coaxing he would give when your mind wandered from you. Those moments when he would take you into the field in the middle of the night and teach you about the constellations, or help you make flower crowns, which he would gladly wear until they withered and fell apart. Those days he'd grow morose about one of the many worries he had, and you would comfort him the only way a child like him could be comforted: hugging him until he felt better. Or those dark moments when you were reduced to tears by your despair at your illness, afraid that one day it would grow worse, and you would end up like your mother. He would hold you tight while crying himself and reassure you that it would never happen. And if it did, he would be there to care for you and keep you safe until the end if his days.

But this wasn't meant to last. As the years went by, Cillian was slowly coming into his adulthood and needed to find a way to make a living for himself. Father had talked to him about teaching him how to be a fisherman, but he wholeheartedly rejected the idea. Instead, he went to town and asked for an apprenticeship with the local carpenter.

The first few weeks, he brought you with him, claiming it still wasn't safe for you to stay at home without him.

Though you loathed the thought of being treated like an unruly toddler and not a child old enough to keep house by themself, the thought intrigued you. You couldn't remember the last time you got to see the village, and the mere thought caused butterflies in your stomach. New places, faces, sights, and smells... perhaps you would enjoy this.

Unfortunately, reality had different plans for you.

It became obvious that you and your brother were not welcome in the village. There was never any violent confrontation or hurtful words thrown your way, but instead a lack of interaction. The other children avoided your presence, and the villagers avoided you and your brothers gaze, only speaking to you when polite conduct forced them to. You could swear you heard them gossiping about you, talking about "cursed blood" and something to do with the sea, yet every time you came up to them, they would act like nothing was said.

The carpenter himself was much kinder, but his time was spent teaching your brother his craft, and you were left to your own devices, more lonely than ever.

After the first few days of begging, Cillian finally relented, and you stayed home with Mother.

The following weeks were painfully uneventful, with you taking over Cillians chores and adjusting to the new workload. Your brain fog made it difficult, causing complications, frustrations, and occasional minor injuries, which Cillian would fret over when he got home. Not that he needed those to worry, as every day he came home, he would rush through the house, his face frantic with worry. He only relaxed when he found you, and you reassured him that nothing had happened, and you were okay.

By the fourth week, you couldn't tell him that anymore, because Mother had begun taking trips outside of the house.

It was the middle of the day, and you were doing some cleaning around the house when the door to your parents' room creaked open, and Mother came out. You called out to her, but she ignored you, steadily making her way out the front door and towards the shore.

You trailed after her a safe distance away, unsure of what else to do. You were always slightly wary of her, as her presence was always a disquieting one in your home. But a vague sense of familial duty kept you from letting her wander unaccompanied.

When the shore finally came into your view, she was already on it, knelt down in the sand, in the company of an adult brown seal.

Upon this image, you felt it again. That pull towards the sea, weaker than before, but just as familiar. You tried to stop, but your feet began to move against your will. Terrified, you used the last of your free will to clench your fist, digging your nails into your palms until they punctured your skin. Only then, the spell broke, and you were able to run back home, uncaring of what would happen on the shore.

An hour or so later, she came back, a faint smile on her face as she lazily wandered back to her room.

Not long after, your brother came home, and you told him everything.

His face sunk further and further as you spoke, and when you finished, he looked like a man twice his age. He took your hand gently into his, and all but begged you not to follow her again.

"To lose Mother would be sad, to lose you would be unspeakable. I couldn't forgive myself if something happened to you."

He then made you promise to not tell Father anything that happened, and you readily agreed.

But then Mother went to visit the beach the next day. And then the next. And the day after, and the one after that, until it became common place. The visits also grew longer, to the point where you and Cillian were worried she wouldn't be home when Father returned from fishing.

That day didn't take long to come.

She had left. You had worked. Cillian came home. You both cooked dinner. Then Father came home, grabbed dinner for both him and Mother, and headed towards his room.

Then the plates shattered on the floor.

He rushed out with the eyes of a madman and interrogated the both of you on where Mother was. Cillian answered for the both of you, saying she had felt in good spirits and had gone on a walk. Your father lost it on him, struck him across the face, and let out a string of curses before marching out the front door, leaving Cillian on the floor and you crying in his wake.

You did your best to help nurse Cillians swelling face as he did his best to console your silent weeping.

Little time had passed before you heard Fathers stomping and yelling once again, with the stern voice of your Mother mixed in. You both quickly took shelter in Cillians room before they made it through the door.

The arguing continued as they went inside and into their rooms, the walls doing little to muffle their voices. It lasted for ten minutes, twenty, thirty, and then an hour, with no signs of stopping. You held onto your brother as you both tried to wait out the storm happening in your house until Cillian decided that enough was enough.

He gently nudged your shoulder, then looked towards his bedroom window, and then back down towards you.

"You want to leave?"

You practically jumped at the opportunity.

He climbed through the window before helping you down, taking your hand and leading you towards the field where the sheep grazed. It was summer, so the night was comfortably warm, a full moon lighting your way. Your bare feet carefully tread the grass, making sure not to step on any burs or briars hidden in the greenery.

He stopped at a small flower patch that the both of used to love lazing around in before he had to take his apprenticeship. Cowslips, wild garlic, and wood sorrels dotted the area. He laid down and looked towards the sky, and you followed his lead, laying down next to him.

"Do you remember any of the constellations I've taught you?"

"Of course!" You say, a little indignant. How could you forget those nights of stargazing?

You search the sky, easily finding a few.

"Lets see, there's Aquarius...Capricorn... and I think that one's Gemini?"

You point in the direction of the cluster of stars, and he brings his head closer to see where your fingers led.

"Yes, that's the one. You know, some people believe the stars control your fate. Something about being born in a certain time of year connects you to certain constellations, and they determine everything about your life, even when you die."

Your brows scrunched together in confusion. You knew you were pretty sheltered, only having your brother, your father, and various books for news of the outside world, but this seemed rather confusing.

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, I don't know too much about it myself. Some spinster stopped me in the street a few days back and asked me if I wanted my fortune read to me. I didn't know what she meant, so she explained to me how everything about our birth, when and where you were born, determines what will happen to you. She offered to tell me about mine if I paid her."

"And what did she say?"

"Nothing, her fees were too expensive, so I left."

"Boring."

He let out a chuckle. "Maybe."

The conversations then lapsed into silence, your eyes lazily gliding among the stars until he spoke again. His voice was hardly above a whisper.

"I wouldn't have asked for it, even if I had the money. Something about the whole thing didn't sit right with me. I mean, if your whole life is written out the moment you're born, what's the purpose of it all? All your struggles, all your accomplishments, completely meaningless. And those that are destined for a horrible life, what's the point in living, if it will only end in disaster?"

You turn over to look at him, his face almost imperceptible in the faint moon light as he stares up at the sky. His hands restlessly fidget with his sleeves as he starts talking again.

"No, I can't believe that. It's too cruel. Our feelings, our thoughts, our actions, they matter. We're more than our birth."

He turns to look at you, his eyes soft and a faint, an almost apologetic smile on his lips.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is, I know a better life seems impossible now, but it'll all be okay in the end. I promise."

You nod back with a smile. It's always been easy to believe the things your brother says, even if you know otherwise.

You both turn back up towards the sky, watching the stars until Cillian got up and told you it was time to head home.

The next morning, things only got worse.

It all started with you waking up in Cillians' bed, confused and disoriented, before remembering that you had refused to creep back to your own room, too afraid to run into your own parents.

Next, you noticed the sun was higher in the sky than it was usually when you woke up. Blearily, you realized you slept in late.

So you decided to wake your brother, still sleeping on the floor, and inform him of the situation. After a few minutes of calling his name, you finally decided to shake him awake. He grumpily protested the whole ordeal and was about to go back to bed until you informed him of the time.

He then threw off his thin blanket, sprang up off the floor, and opened to door with you following behind.

Until he stopped.

You peered from behind your brother and saw your father sitting at the table.

Shouldn't he be away by now?

He gave a smile to the both of you.

"Good morning, children. Why don't you take a seat? I've already prepared breakfast."

For a moment, Cillian didn't move, and neither did you. Briefly, you contemplated turning around and taking refuge in his room again, but then he started to cautiously make his way forward, and you reluctantly followed.

You and Cillian took the only two seats left, both located close to Father. You distantly wondered where Mothers chair had gone.

Your brother started to place food on his plate, and you grabbed a slice of buttered bread, immediately taking a bite out of it. The sooner you could leave the table, the better.

Father grabbed nothing. He simply watched the both of you, the same smile from before still plastered on his face.

It was only now that you could make out the dark circles under his eyes and his unkempt hair. You could also see he was still wearing the same work clothes from yesterday. You don't think he slept a wink.

After a tense, quiet moment of watching the both of you eat, he turned towards your brother and began to speak.

"Cillian, my boy, are you still going into town today?"

He avoided his gaze as he replied.

"Yes, sir. I can't afford to skip any lessons."

"But you're already late. Surely, you couldn't do any more harm by skipping today?"

"I can't, sir. It would be disrespectful to miss an entire day without reason."

"I expected as much. I suppose it can't be helped."

Father gave a thoughtful hum before turning towards you.

"Well, I guess that leaves you, then."

You froze as your heart rate picked up. You briefly caught Cillians eyes, and saw your own panic reflected back.

Father continued on, like he hadn't noticed.

"I need to ask a favor of you. Your mother has been getting worse, as the both of you seem to know already."

He pointedly shot your brother a look before returning his gaze to you.

"And she needs her rest. Unfortunately, she does not want to rest. That's why I've taken it upon myself to make sure she does."

He gestured over towards the door of the room Mother lay, and you saw the missing chair propped up securely against the knob.

"All you need to do is make sure she stays inside. Don't let her out for anything. Not for food, or water, or even the bathroom. No matter what she says or does, you do not open that door."

He then reached out and placed a large, cold, and loose hand on your shoulder. It took everything in you not to shake it off.

"Am I understood?"

You nodded rapidly. "Yes, Father."

His smile grew wider and he gave your shoulder a pat before retracting his arm.

"Good. Because if she isn't in there when I come back, I will be very disappointed."

With that, he slapped his legs before pushing himself off the chair.

"Well, I'd best be off now. Take care, I'll be back as soon as I can."

He grabbed his coat, put on his shoes, and headed out the door.

After the sound of his footsteps subsided, you quietly got up and headed towards your parents' door.

Your hand had only come to touch the chair before Cillian grabbed you and pulled you away.

You wrestled out of his grip and turned to face him before his hands landed on your shoulders as he gave you a slight shake, his hands warm and unmovable.

"What do you think you're doing?" He hissed.

"What do you think you're doing?" You countered.

"Keeping you from making a mistake. Did you not listen to Father at all?"

"I did, and that's exactly why I'm doing it. You know this can't be right, Cillian, he can't keep her locked up."

"Of course this is awful, that isn't the point." He spat out.

You recoiled as far back as his hold would allow.

That seemed to make him pause he decided to close his eyes and take a deep breath, his features softening a touch. His voice was less harsh, but just as urgent as he spoke again.

"I know you don't want to be a part of this. I don't, either. But we don't have a choice here. With Father becoming more... unpredictable, it's better to play along with whatever he wants. Just until I can save enough money to get us out of here, okay?"

"But what about Mother?"

"I don't care about Mother, I care about you. Your safety goes above everything else."

You turn away, your eyes growing wet.

"I don't like it."

"You don't have to like it, you just have to listen."

You wipe your eyes. He lets out a sigh and loosens his grip.

"Why don't you stay out of the house for today? Focus on tending to the sheep and chickens, or tend to the garden, or whatever you want. It'll be easier on you if you don't have to hear her, okay?"

You didn't move.

"(Y/N), please, look at me." He said quietly.

Against your better judgment, you did.

His face was fallen, his eyes starting to water like yours were. An unwilling feeling of guilt formed in your heart.

"Promise me you won't let Mother out." He pleaded.

You nodded, even though the thought of going along this made you sick.

He gave you a genuine smile.

"Thank you."

Cillian left soon after, and you tittered about in the house, trying to keep yourself busy. You thought about going outside the house and focusing on taking care of the animals like he suggested, but your guilt wouldn't allow you to leave Mother.

You had quickly come to regret that decision as not even an hour after Cillians departure, Mother tried to open the door.

Simple attempts at opening the door had rapidly grown more frantic until she was pounding on the wood. The sound encompassed the whole house, and you could only stand and stare like a trapped animal, torn between your duty to your mother and your duty to your brother.

And then she stopped.

And the whole house was quiet.

For some reason, you found the silence profoundly more disturbing than her hysterical attempts to break the door, and you half longed to hear them again.

As you debated calling out to her, the silence was broken by the sound of glass shattering.

The only glass in the room was her window.

You rushed out of the front door and ran around the side of the house to where the window was, only to see her exiting through where the glass used to be. He dress was torn, and her arms and legs were covered in minor cuts that dotted her in red.

"Mother!" You shout. "Are you okay-"

She turned towards you, came to an abrupt halt, and stared.

Her dark, dead eyes bore into you, leaving a weight on your chest you had never felt before. She knows, you thought. You didn't know what she knew or if there was anything to know, but it was the only thought in your head as she looked at you. She knows. And it made you wither before her.

She turned away and headed towards the tool shed. You followed her at a distance.

She emerged from the shed with a shovel and walked towards a small group of trees, of which she stopped in front of the old, brittle husk of what used to be a mighty oak.

And she started to dig.

It was obvious she was struggling. She had done little manual labor in her life, mostly content with wasting away in her room most days, so she had little muscle. She huffed and puffed, and even as far away as you were, you could see her arms shake with every shovel full of dirt. A foot into the ground, and you could see her hands start to bleed, the delicate skin tearing against the rough wood of the shovel.

But her face had stayed just as determined as it had been when she started, and her pace never slowed. As you watched, you could swear that not even hell could stop her.

You stood there and watched her toil knee-deep in the dirt, wondering what could drive such a woman to go to these lengths when you heard the sound of metal hitting metal.

With frantic movements, she began to shovel faster, then abandoned the tool altogether and desperately clawed at the dirt with her fingers.

Then she began to pull.

One tug. Then another. And another.

And then one final tug, and it was free. She staggered back, a metal box as big as her chest held firmly in her hands.

She wasted no time throwing it to the ground and undoing the latches that held it closed.

She took out something and stared at it for a moment before carelessly tossing it to the side. Out of her grasp, you could see it was a fur of some sort. Though you couldn't tell what animal it belonged to, you could see that it was rather plain looking, definitely not worth burying like it was some valuable treasure.

Yet why did it seem to tug at your heart, trying to draw you closer?

Your attention was torn from the fur as the sound of crying filled the air.

It came from Mother, now hunched over a larger, more beautiful fur, her face buried deep as he let out more heart-wrenching sobs. It was the most emotion you've ever seen from her.

You felt like a voyeur. This moment wasn't for you, yet you couldn't leave, transfixed by such both the fur and Mother.

It took moments for the crying to subside, at which point she slowly got to her legs, and she draped the fur over her shoulders like an oversized shawl.

It was like this you could see it better. It was white, and the fur sparkled in the sun like a jewel. It was also obvious that this was the fur of an adult seal.

Her head turned towards you, and you held her gaze, only for a moment, before she turned away and walked towards the direction of the sea.

As she made her past the horizon and beyond your line of sight, she didn't once turn back to look at you.

And you were glad she didn't.

You didn't know how long you spent watching her leave. Even after she disappeared from your sight, you still watched the last spot you saw her. You knew she wouldn't come back, and you hoped she wouldn't either, but that didn't stop the expectancy from growing inside you. There was more coming, and you just didn't know what it was or where it would come from.

Eventually, your mind snapped back to the present, and you became aware of your surroundings again. The sun had climbed quite a ways across the sky, telling you it was afternoon now.

With little else to do, you made your way to the discarded fur.

The closer you got, the more your heart trembled in your chest, and your skin itched in anticipation. It was so similar to the way the sea called to you, but more intense, and completely irresistible.

When you finally knelt down and grasped it, the world melted away along with the fog around your brain, and your mind gained a sense of clarity and sharpness you had never experienced before. And a beautiful, overwhelming feeling of completeness washed over you, like this fur was a long lost part of you, and you were finally, blissfully whole again.

This is what Mother felt when she touched her fur, wasn't it? It must be, because you started to to cry just like she did, face buried in your fur- no, a small voice in your mind said, your lost skin, as you tried to take it all in.

What relief, what clarity, what pain it is to be complete again. Who knew such an immense joy could bring so much hurt?

You only stopped crying when you heard a yell in the distance.

"(Y/N)! WHERE'S YOUR MOTHER?"

It was Fathers voice.

You whip your head to see the figure of your father coming towards you, only to stop as your body twisted towards his, revealing your second skin bundled in your arms.

His shocked expression quickly twisted to something dark, ugly, and angry.

He started walking towards you again, his movements similar to the confident prowl of a wolf coming across a stray lamb, far away from the safety of the herd.

And you felt your heart kick up, exactly like a lamb's would.

Without further thought, you draped your skin across your shoulders like Mother had, scrambled towards your feet, and sprinted away.

Father's heavy footsteps followed.

Past the sheep fields, beyond your property, from well trodden footpaths to completely untamed land, you dashed across the land with your father steady in pursuit, unable to escape his sight.

You didn't realize you were headed towards the ocean until you saw the sand of the beach and the deep blue of the sea.

Logically, you knew that the beach was a dead end. There was nothing there to help you down there, and you couldn't swim. But something inside you urged you forward, saying you would be free, if only you could reach the water, and after everything that happened today, you were inclined to trust it.

As your feet hit the sand, Father began to shout, all threats and insults.

When your skin met the sea, the sharpness in his voice disappeared, replaced with a desperation so unbecoming of a man once to confident.

When you were up to your waist in the salt water, and the rolling waves threatened threatened to knock you off your feet and sweep you out to sea, your father started to plead. To beg you to come out of the water and help him find Mother. He had momentarily lost his temper, he didn't mean to frighten you so. He's not mad any more, he's sorry, and only wishes you could come out and tell him where Mother went. To help him figure out a way to find her and to bring her home. If only you would get out of the water.

You didn't bother to look back.

You dove into the rolling waves, and something fantastical overcame your body.

Your clothes fell away from your body, and your seal skin filled with a strange energy, latching onto your human skin and merging until they were one. Your arms shrunk into flippers with dull claws, and your legs and feet merged into a sleek, powerful tail. Blubber formed around your body and neck, and nestled you in warmth. Your hair receded, and your head shrunk, with your nose and mouth forming the short snout of a seal.

Soon, you were darting through the water, further and further away from the cries of your father, and deeper into the blue.

You swam so far and for so long that when you finally came to the surface to breathe, you could no longer see the shore, with no recollection of which direction you came from. All round you was nothing but a yawning stretch of unbroken blue.

The sun had finally set, transforming the water into the same inky darkness of the sky, and you had still not found your way back to land.

You had tried to head back in the direction you thought you had come from, only to find nothing. So you tried another direction, then another, and another, only to wind up more lost than before.

Frustrated, you had given up for a time and decided to explore what lay under the sea, both in childish curiosity of what the world was like under the water and in foolish hope that you would find your mother, and she could guide you back.

Instead, you found dozens upon dozens of colorful fish and bizarre plants that you could scarcely dream of. You would follow these alien creatures as they scuttled and swam about with a sense of whimsy and awe, captivated by their strangeness. It was the most fun you had in a very long time. If only land could have creatures like this, it would be a much more beautiful place.

But soon, you had lost yourself in your exploration, just like you had lost yourself in the sea. When you finally stopped and resurfaced, the sky and sea had darkened, to the point you could hardly tell which was which.

It was only then you felt the effects of being at sea for so long. Though your blubber did much to keep you warm, the sea was always cold, and a chill had crept deep into your skin. Your stomach gnawed in hunger, and a great weariness started to overtake you. How much longer could you keep swimming?

You grew panicked, head whipping around in despair as you tried to find something, anything to lead you home.

In confusion and fear, you turned your head towards the sky, and it was there you found your answer.

The north star.

It was the first thing your brother had taught you when he took you stargazing. He would still quiz you on it every once in a while, just to make sure you remembered how to find it.

You can still hear his voice like it was yesterday.

"As long as you can find the north star, you can always find your way home."

A renewed feeling of energy washed over you, filling your weary body with resolve, and you pushed yourself towards home.

On and on, you fought against the choppy waves trying to push against your own struggling body and pull you further into the ocean, with nothing but thoughts of home to push you forward.

But after an unknown amount of time, you came across not the shore, but there, upon the horizon, the silhouette of a man upon a fishing boat, harpoon raised, as sharks circled him... no, those weren't sharks.

They were seals.

And that man you your father.

You abandoned your current course to swim closer, trying to understand what was happening.

As you crept up on the ship, you finally heard Fathers shouting over the rough waves.

"DAMN ANIMALS!" His voice was venom.

"WHERE IS SHE? I KNOW YOU HAVE HER! WHERE IS MY WIFE?!"

The seals began to nudge the boat, throwing him momentarily off balance. However, he quickly gained his composure.

"MY LOVE, COME BACK TO ME!"

There was no response.

"I'LL DRAG YOU BACK, ONE WAY OR THE OTHER, AND I'LL KILL WHATEVER BEAST GETS IN MY WAY!"

He regained his footing and raised his harpoon as if to attack, his face alight with manic anger.

But beyond his sight, you saw a beautiful white seal barrel towards the side of his boat, with no sign of stopping. In a flash, her body collided with the wood, and the ship was overturned, throwing Father into the dark sea before he could scream.

It was only a moment before he resurfaced, harpoon gone, struggling to keep his head above water.

"DON'T, PLEASE-"

A seal broke off from the circling pack, bit down on his leg, and dragged him down, disappearing beneath the surface. You tensed, afraid that the seal hadn't let him go, but he broke through the waves in a manner of seconds, choking on salt water.

He struggled against the current, coughing his lung out as he tried to make his way towards his capsized ship.

Then another seal did the same, taking him underwater but holding him down just a little longer. When Father resurfaced, he began to exclaim in fear, begging for mercy, and then for Mother, before he was dragged back down again into the inky abyss.

And then it happened again.

And again.

You caught sight of the same white seal who had brought this fate upon him. She had positioned herself slightly away from the rest of the herd, content to watch from afar. Perhaps she thought her part over, or perhaps she was merely waiting for her turn again.

Slowly, she turned her head towards you, as if she knew you were here all along.

She didn't say a word as she looked at you, but you knew what she was trying to tell you.

You don't belong here.

And perhaps she was right.

You turned away from the brutality happening in front of you, and found the north star again. With your bearings, you continued your journey home.

When the shore finally came out of the horizon, you could have jumped for joy. You pushed your tired fins to the max, wanting nothing more than to finally return to land.

As you came closer, you could make out the dark figure of another person, frantically walking along the shore line, calling out to the sea.

"(Y/N)! (Y/N)! IS THAT YOU?!"

It was Cillian.

You felt such a sense of relief upon seeing him, you could cry.

You tried to call out to him, but it only came out in the strange barks of a seal.

He ran towards the water, only stopping as it reached his waist, your abandoned clothes clutched it his hands as he continued to shout your name like a madman.

You pushed and pushed, willing your aching body to go faster and faster until you were upon him. His arms were held wide, and you leaped into them as he caught you with ease.

Then that strange, magical sensation happened again.

Your skin warped and twisted, growing and then separating itself into two, your seal skin wrapping around you like a robe. Your tail and fins turned back into arms and legs, with the rest of your body following suit. All the while, Cillian still held you, red rimmed eyes in awe over what he saw.

And just like that, you were human again.

He took your face in his hands, one cupping your cheek as the other stroked your hair ever so gently. His hands were cold from being out for so long, and they shook slightly, whether from adrenaline or exhaustion, you couldn't tell. Yet you found yourself leaning into them anyway.

His face was red, and his eyes were wet and puffy. His chin wobbled as much as his voice, unable to contain his emotion.

"I thought you were gone. I came home, and you weren't there, and I couldn't find anyone. I looked everywhere, and when I found your clothes, oh God, I thought I would never see you again. I thought I would be alone."

His voice broke down into wordless sobs, his hands letting your face go only to wrap you into a crushing embrace. You found yourself beginning to cry with him.

"I'm here now." You told him, your own voice faltering from your tears. "It's okay, I'm here."

His sobbing only picked up, sounding like those rare occasions when he cried as a child.

"Oh, my baby. Thank God, thank God."

You stood there, held fast in his arms, as the ocean waves pushed against the both of you, sapping the warmth out of your body, but you couldn't bother to care. You thought you could stay like that forever, safe and sound in his hold.

But his hold began to loosen, and he looked down at you, face haggard and tired.

"Let's go home."

You nodded and took his hand as he led you out of the sea and towards land. But you felt like your body was made of lead, and you kept stumbling, almost falling back into the water. That's when Cillian decided to pick you up, arms under your knees and back in a princess style hold. You didn't protest, exhaustion leaving you too weak to reasonably object. Instead, you lay your head on his shoulder, arms securely holding your second skin around your body, as he took you out of the water.

As you exited the beach, the cold had finally caught up with you, and you began to shiver violently.

Cillian looked down at you, face pinched in concern, before focusing back on the path ahead, picking up his pace.

"I know, I know. We'll be home soon. We'll get you dressed in dry clothes, and I'll get a fire going, and you'll be warm before you know it. Just hang on."

You nodded, pressing yourself further against him, trying to share his body heat.

The journey dragged, the cool night temperatures making your symptoms worse. With each breeze, your shivering would pick up, and he would hold you tighter, as if he could solve the problem by only keeping you closer.

By the time you made it home, your fingers, toes, and nose were numb.

He tried to set you down carefully in front of your room, but his shaking, tired arms had you plopped on the ground more roughly then he intended, leading to him profusely apologizing and checking if you were okay.

You looked up to him and saw the way his fatigue wore on him, from the droopiness of his eyes to the sag of his shoulders and the way his wet clothes hung off of him. You wish he wouldn't apologize so much.

"Change into something warm, and I'll get the fire going, alright?"

You nodded and then went in your room to change, clumsily slipping on your normal nightwear. Still shivering, you then grabbed the blanket off your bed and bundled yourself with it before taking your wet seal skin and walking out of your room.

When you went back to the living room, Cillian was in dry clothes kneeling next to the fireplace, having finished loading the logs into the chimney. With a few strikes of the fire steel, a small fire began to grow on the wood, bringing a welcome heat with it.

You carefully hung up your second skin near the fireplace so it could dry and then sat down next to your brother, watching as he tended to the small flame, making certain it wouldn't go out. After a few minutes of carefully feeding it small, dry branches, it had taken to the bigger logs and grown to a healthy size. With a noise of contentment, he pulled the metal screen over the fireplace opening and leaned back, a drained expression falling on his face as he took a moment to soak in the heat.

Then he turned to you with a small smile.

"Feeling better?"

You nodded, your shivering having gone down some.

"But I'm still cold."

He opened his arms and waved you over. You didn't hesitate to go to them, taking your blanket and wrapping it over his body as well as yours as he wrapped his arms around you. Your head leaned against his shoulder, and his chin rested on your head.

And for a while, no one spoke. You sat snug in his hold, the warmth of the fire, the reassuring weight of his arms, and the steady rise and fall of Cillians chest, you were easily lulled into a state of half consciousness, bringing you a sense of peace.

But then your brothers voice, rough and low, spoke.

"Why did you leave?"

It took you a moment to process the question, mind fuzzy and slow from your exhaustion.

"Father was chasing me. I didn't know where else to go."

"You didn't have to stay gone for so long. You knew I would be home soon."

"I got lost."

With those words, his chest hitched, like he couldn't breathe. You hastily tried to reassure him.

"But when night fell, I used the north star to guide me home, just like you taught me. It all turned out okay in the end."

He shifted, his hold growing tighter.

"Don't you realise how lucky you were? If the sky had been overcast and you couldn't see the stars, what would you have done? How long would you have lasted at sea without its guidance? What if you had swam into a shark, or God forbid, a fisherman..."

His arms grew suffocating, to the point of pain.

"Cillian, please." You whimpered.

His grip immediately loosened, and he looked down on you, apologies spilling from his mouth once more.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, it just- it scares me. You scare me. And I hate how frightened you make me. You can't go back there, (Y/N)."

What could you say? You felt guilty about making him so upset, but you couldn't promise to not return to the ocean, either. Yes, your first trip in the water was terrifying, but it was also freeing and beautiful. You wouldn't feel complete without being able to go there again.

You chose to stay silent.

He pressed you gently back into his chest and began softly rocking you, one hand around you and the other carding through your hair.

Eventually, you drifted off, the soft crackle of the fire and the gentle sway of Cillian's hold following you into your dreams.

The next thing you know, you're swaddled in your bed, sunshine streaming through your windows.

It takes you a while to get up, the ordeals from yesterday still weighing heavy on your body. But eventually, hunger pangs form in your stomach, and you force yourself to leave the safety of the blankets to get food.

With your blanket wrapped around your body like a cloak, you slowly shuffle out of your room and towards the kitchen. You dully make note of how high the sun is, meaning you had slept well into the afternoon. You hope Cillian let the animals out before he left.

Once in the kitchen, you cut a slice of bread and stand there, chewing on it slowly, eyes half lidded as not one thought crosses your mind.

Then it hits you, a delayed wave of dread washing over you.

Your skin.

You had left it near the fireplace, right? You were fairly certain of it being wet, and you had wanted it to dry. Therefore, near the fireplace was the most logical place.

Uncertainly, you take the few steps it takes to get to the living room, and can find no sign of it.

But you remember putting it here. At least, you think you remember.

It occurs to you that, upon separation from your skin, that mental acuity you had gained from it was now lost once again, and your brain fog has rolled back in with a vengeance.

You look around the fireplace, turning over baskets and boxes and whatever gets in your way, before expanding your search to the living room, then the kitchen, then your room. You even dared to look through your parents' room and Cillians room for no other excuse than your rising panic at not being able to find that vital, beloved part of yourself.

All higher reason left you as you left your house to trace back your journey from the beach on the wild belief that you could have dropped your skin, despite knowing that it had stayed wrapped around your body the entire time.

The further into your walk, the more the pit in your stomach grew, climbing its way into your throat until you threatened to choke on it, tears leaking from your eyes all the while.

It was only upon not being able to find the skin anywhere on the beach that you collapsed down on the sand, your wailing a companion to the roaring of the waves.

It was there Cillian found poor you, face a red, blotchy mess of snot and tears. He knelt beside you, out of breath from running to find you. He tried his best to calm you down despite looking panicked himself, but you had worked yourself into an unmanageable state.

After a desperate few minutes, you had slowed down just enough to wail out, "I can't find my skin."

His mouth formed a grim line, face becoming unreadable. Without another word, he picked you up and carried you home once more.

You didn't bother fighting it, only continuing to cry until it tapered off to pathetic little whimpers, and then total silence.

You barely registered that you were home, that Cillian had placed you upon the floor, near the dwindling fire where you collapsed. You stared into the small flame, not being able to comprehend anything. The world had become too much, weighing heavy on your mind and body to the point that you didn't have a will to care about much anymore. Except, of course, for one thing.

After an unknown time, Cillian sat down next to you, apple in hand. He made a gesture as if offering you the food, but there was only one response on your lips.

"Do you know where my skin is?"

He turned away from you and faced the fire again, taking a bite of the fruit, and you stared at him as he chewed. Chewed, chewed, chewed, and then swallowed it all down.

He nodded.

"Yes, I know where it is."

You felt your eyes light up, a surge of hope coursing through your body.

"Where is it?!"

He didn't turn to look at you. His face didn't even so much as twitch.

"Cillian, please, where is it? Where's my skin?"

"It's somewhere safe."

"That's isn't an answer." A heat began to form in your voice. "Where is it?"

"What are you going to do with it, when you get it again?"

The question took you off guard, making you sputter for a moment.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you going to try and leave again?"

Your patience gave way to your anger.

"I didn't leave you, I was trying to run away from our crazy Father, who would have done God knows what to me if he caught me. And I didn't want to be stuck out at sea for hours on end! And I came home, didn't I? I want to be here, why isn't that enough for you?!"

His finally turned towards you, face twisted and sharp.

"You came back this time." He spat. "But what about the next? What's to keep you from deciding to stay in the sea if I can't be there to stop you? Just look at you! A day hasn't even passed, and you're already running back towards that accursed beach."

Heat rose in your cheeks, and your voice rose.

"And so you steal from me? You take a part of myself and hide it from me? How dare you! How dare you do what Father did!"

The veins in his head began to pop up at your words.

"I'm nothing like him, Father was a monster!"

"Then prove it! Give me back my skin!"

He stared at you, eyes wild, huffing like he had just run across the property. You held his gaze, just as angry and stubborn, unwillingly to back down.

He jolted up, then stalked across the floor and exited the house with a slam of the door.

You could only look after him in silence.

After Cillian left, you had slunk off to your bed, not knowing what else to do except to lie down and wait.

Eventually, you fell into a fitful sleep, not even able to find reprieve in your dreams, where you saw your mother taking your skin and running as you desperately tried to catch up to her. But no matter how fast you ran, or how hard you pushed yourself, you fell further and further behind until she was nothing more than a speck in the distance.

A hand came to rest on your head, and you jolted awake with a start, heart racing and eyes wide and unseeing, until a voice called out to you.

"It's okay, (Y/N), it's okay, it's only me, Cillian. Calm down, you're safe."

In a few short seconds, your eyes focused on the figure sitting on the edge of your bed in front of you, and it was indeed your brother, face composed in a reassuring smile.

You took in your surroundings, noticing it had gone completely dark, with only a candle placed on your nightstand to offer any light. There was no sign of your skin.

"I didn't mean to scare you, I just wanted to wake you up. It looked like you were having a nightmare."

You slumped back in your bed, and frown easily forming on your face.

"I was." Is your meager reply.

"I'm sorry about that. Do you want to talk about it?"

You look away from him, frown deepening.

He sighed. "You're still mad at me, aren't you?"

Silence.

"The first time you wandered off, trying to return to the beach, Father had taken me aside, and told me a story of a young, lonely fisherman who had come upon a beautiful, naked lady dancing on the beach. The fisherman had become enchanted with this strange woman, believing to have fallen in love at first sight. After having watched her for some time, he came to spot a stark white seal skin near the lady. It was then he figured out that the woman was not a human, but a selkie, a mythical creature with the ability to change their form from seal to human. He knew he had to have her and crept closer and closer, until he was able to snatch the skin away. She pleaded for it's return, offering anything to have it back. He had said he would, but only on the condition she became his wife. She relented, not having another choice. Of course, Father had then revealed that this was the story of how he met Mother."

You sat there, staring at him in shock.

"You knew that Mother and I were selkies, and you said nothing?"

"No, that's not it. I didn't believe a word of what he said, I thought it was the delusions of a sad man trying to find a reason for why his wife was so ill. I didn't start thinking of the story until Mother went visiting the beach, and even then, I wasn't sure until I saw you transform in front of my very eyes."

He sighed once more.

"But that wasn't all. Father had said that though I was human, you were a selkie, and that he had taken your skin as soon as you were born and hidden it away with Mothers. He believed that if you never had the chance to transform, the illness from Mother would lessen, and eventually, you would turn human. I thought he was mad, but now that I am able to think... he was right, wasn't he?"

You felt your heart drop to your stomach.

"Your illness wasn't as severe as Mothers. You were able to live normally for the most part. Sure, you couldn't always focus, and your mind would wander, but it was getting better, wasn't it? In a few more years, you might have turned human. Unfortunately, Mother stopped that from happening, but it can be done again."

He placed a hand on your shoulder, cold and iron tight, with a sickening smile stretched on his face.

"You'll be rid of this disease, and you can be human, like you were meant to. And I'll be here to take care of you until it happens."

You couldn't speak, couldn't move, could scarcely breathe. You could have cried, but all the tears and anger had left you earlier that day, leaving you to mutely stare at your brother, your only family, the only one you trusted, who you thought would protect you from the horrors of the world you lived in, in a complete and all consuming horror you have never felt in your life.

A moment passed, and you managed to find your words once again.

"Cillian." Your voice is quiet. A gentle breeze could drown it out.

"Cillian," you try again, "please. Where is my skin?"

His face falls and shoulders sag in disappointment.

"I know it will take you a long time to adjust, but I promise, this is for the best."

You shake your head, but he only brings you in for a hug, holding you gently as if you would shatter at a moments notice. You have no energy to fight back.

"Please. Give me back my skin."

He only shushes you, rubbing circles into your back as you continue to plead for the only thing that could make you feel whole again. You stay there until your voice goes silent, your body slack, and your eyes shut. Until you fall asleep in the arms of your brother, under the roof of your father, and under the stars that sit unmoving and unforgiving in the darkness of the night sky.

[genderqueerdykes]

hey anon saying "my abuser was a trans man so trans men hate trans women" I just want you to know I'm a transmasc person who was literally abused horrifically on the basis of sharing a similar pronoun and gender identity to my then-girlfriend's ex. she used the abuse of an entirely unrelated person as an excuse to insinuate I never respected her and would regularly scream at me and even invalidated my trauma over a relative dying using her own trauma.

she also, unsurprisingly, was a rampant transandrophobe, calling me horrible and transmisogynistic because I challenged her as a trans woman over saying blatantly transphobic things about trans men and transmascs (myself included).

because it was never about truth, it was about being on top and being the most inconvenienced and being in control of the conversation of suffering (this went beyond us fighting over my gender).

think why you feel that way, that you need sole dictation over the conversation and can't let anyone else breathe their words about experiences that may challenge how you feel, anon

if I were to do what she did, and say I was uncomfortable with trans women because they can be abusive, I would rightfully be ripped limb from limb for the transmisogynistic notion that trans women are remotely a monolith or are abusive based solely on my experience

but I guess trans men aren't owed that same equivalence. they are forced to live a double standard there. because you don't respect us enough for it. why is that.

"because it was never about truth, it was about being on top and being the most inconvenienced and being in control of the conversation of suffering,"

"if I were to do what she did, and say I was uncomfortable with trans women because they can be abusive, I would rightfully be ripped limb from limb for the transmisogynistic notion that trans women are remotely a monolith or are abusive based solely on my experience"

i had to highlight these bits in particulare because good god you worded this so perfectly. i am so sorry you have had this experience but you knocked the ball so far out of the park that i am genuinely in awe of how well you conveyed this, and how absolutely fucked peoples' double standards are when it comes to abuse and how people think that trans men and mascs have it "so much easier in life". you're dead on the money. NONE of this has to do with talking about oppression and looking out for one another.

this behavior is about control.

it's about controlling the narrative. some people literally get so insecure when the conversation turns away from them for even a moment, they think it means that everyone is their enemy. yes, trans women have an absolutely awful time in cisheternormative society. so do trans men.

i have been emotionally and sexually abused and harassed by 3 separate trans women. one of which struck me with an object, another who stole something out of my purse while i was asleep and continuously kept trying to get in my pants after she found out i had a vagina despite me repeatedly turning her down, and another who mocked me for my psychotic episodes and repeatedly swore up and down that i didn't have DID and just in general gaslit and emotionally abused the fuck out of me. the woman who hit me also constantly kept insinuating that penises are what make a man a man, and would not stop making me feel bad for not having a biopenis.

once everyone found out i had a vag, suddenly, i was a cishet woman in their house and i was public enemy #1. i had to deal with my cis gay male roommate shrieking about how he's gay, boobs and vaginas are disgusting, he's a MAN attracted to MEN. meanwhile, my ex girlfriend (the one who hit me) made me feel like shit for being a man without a penis almost every single day. she would guilt trip me about how she missed being with partners with biopenises and would spend all day telling me that she loved me, but then would turn around and scream and yell at me and tell me that i'm an evil asshole.

the transandrophobia i have had to deal with at the hands of other trans women has been absolutely fucking staggering. we need to stop fostering a culture where this is okay because it's genuinely getting people hurt. like you said, if a transmasc were to say "i hate trans women, they're all mean and shitty and abusive," they would literally be torn limb from fucking limb. and rightfully so, because it's a dogshit thing to say. but we HAVE to start telling people who do this to trans men to fuck OFF and stop it.

i am very sorry you went through that. i hope things improve for you, and that you're able to spend time in company that treats you with respect. nobody should have to deal with literal profiling just because of their gender.

is that what we're doing now? profiling people based off of their gender? how is that progressive? how is that liberating? how is that trans rights? it ain't.

[queer-n-here]

hii! I have a request if it's not much ! (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠)

i wanted to request a clingy and jealous reader where Poe is oblivious to it, but later in bed, Poe finds out about it too late when they go on for more than one round, where Poe's whole boy end up being marked.

That's all there is to this request! Thank you :)

Hey, sorry it's been a while since you sent this. I hope it's worth the wait!

Contents: Fucking Poe dumb because you got jealous.

Warnings: Smut, top male reader, biting, marking, overstimulation, after sex talk, established relationship (it's almost always established relationship with my fics), jealousy, soft reader near the end.

Poe was at his breaking point.

I mean, you'd been fucking him for hours now, and even when he sobbed into your shoulder and begged you to let him have a break, the only thing you did was kiss his forehead and start thrusting in him all over again.

How had you, who were generally so gentle and nice to him, suddenly turned into a ferocious beast?

Now, lying on his back in the soiled sheets and panting, Poe couldn't help but clutch at your arms.

"[Name]," He sniffled, more tears adding to the streaks running down his face. "Please, just... Just let me have a b-break- nggh!"

You thrusted into him again, your tip hitting his swollen prostrate and making him arch his back off the bed. Poe wrapped his arms around your neck pathetically, burying his wet face into the crook of your neck.

Your thrusts sped up slowly till you gained a rhythm, your hips slapping against his and creating lewd sounds that echoed around the room, barely muffled by his moans.

The bed creaked in protest under you as you continued pounding into Poe, his exhausted body trembling and bucking into yours as you continued your assault of his hole. His eyes were brimming with more tears at the overstimulation, and his cheeks were red. Sweaty hair was sticking to his forehead and neck in a way that made you want to pull at it.

You lowered your head and kissed Poe's neck for the nth time that night, creating more bruises in the sea of purple against his pale skin. They looked so pretty on him, you couldn't help but think.

His skin beneath your teeth, his tight walls around your cock; it had been like this for hours now, and yet you couldn't get enough of him. He was too beautiful, too pretty for you to just let him be.

"[Name]!" Poe sobbed. "Ah! Hnngh, Mmph!"

You kissed his lips with a gentleness that was in contrast with your lower half, which was bludgeoning into Poe's ass. He reciprocated, letting you nibble at his lips and swallow down his moans and cries. Pulling away, you placed a kiss on either of his eyes, your hips never stopping.

You marvelled at his beauty as you fucked him, eyes glued to his beautiful flushed face as Poe squirmed and panted underneath you. His walls were fluttering around your cock in a way that made your cock twitch and throb with want even as it was in him.

His skin was growing redder now, and the way he dropped his hands from your shoulders to clutch at the sheets beneath him instead told you that he was close. You sped up, abusing his sweet spot, making his toes curl and eyes widen as the sounds that spilled from his mouth turned up in volume.

"C-close!" Poe panted. "Nghh, [Name]!"

You knew already, and yet at his words you reached down to tug at Poe's cock. He whined, trying to pull away from the overstimulation, but failing horribly when his hips bucked into you at the same time.

He came, ropes of cum shooting out of his dick as his walls clenched almost unbearably tight around you, almost as if trying to milk your cock. You granted him his wish, letting your seed spill into him as your thrusts slowed down to a stop.

You looked down at Poe. His arms had dropped to his sides limply, and he was struggling to breathe, eyes blurred and brain all fucked-out. You pulled out of him, and laid down beside him.

Poe turned immediately to bury himself into you, sweat and tears rolling down his body and mixing with his cum in a messy puddle. You wrapped your arms around him, letting him come down from his high and catch his breath.

When he did, it took him a while to look up at you.

"What was that?" He said when he did.

You looked down at him, feeling slightly guilty. "What was what?"

"You were so mean," Poe complained. "You're never so rough. Did something happen?"

You looked down. "Uhh... Not really. I'm sorry if that was too much."

"If you don't tell me what happened," He pouted. "I'm not gonna let you touch me again. Ever!"

And with that he rolled around, wincing as pain shot up his back when he tried to sit up.

You sighed resignedly, sitting up and pulling Poe back to yourself. "Alright, I'm sorry. I just... Got a little jealous today, I guess. You know, when we went out on a date but some stranger you met there ended up getting more of your attention than me."

Poe turned around, his expression defensive. "He wasn't a stranger, he was an old friend of mine, I told you!"

"I know, I know," You looked down again. "I'm sorry."

"You've already said that, like, three times." He pouted, but didn't seem actually angry with you.

You leaned closer and pecked his lips. "Then, what should I do to make you forgive me?"

He thought about it. "Hmm... Help me wash up!"

You bit back a smile. "But I already do that every time after we have sex."

Poe frowned, thinking. "Well, then... Cook for me!"

This time you couldn't help the smile from showing onto your face. "I do that as well, every time."

Poe's frown deepened. "Fine, whatever. I'll think of it later. I'll forgive you for now, I guess."

He let you pull him closer and wrap your arms around his waist. You planted a kiss in the crook of his shoulder, among the hickeys you'd given him.