#please send us asks about them we are DYING TO TELL YOU MORE

[inkskinned]

there are days that it is hard, and unfair, and some horrible part of me wishes i could have been born in a different world. i love being queer, i hate how others react to it. when i first came out at 15, my mom whispered: please don't say that. your life would be so much harder.

it is harder.

it is also a tuesday, walking my dog. we are both skiving off of work, and yes both of us have dyed hair and pronouns. mine is patchy - it was my first time trying bleach; i didn't have enough. theirs is a resilient toadstool green. a little girl comes up to us and asks um, excuse me? is your hair real? 'cause jason says you're a fairy.

it is sunday brunch, all of us talking over each other, overfull on love. she is trying out a new name today, and we made her a cake with today's name scrawled in shaky purple letters. she laughs so much she cries and then gets frosting in her hair. someone young at a different table keeps giving us these large, wide eyes: the same look we have all been on the other side of. the kind that says, breathless: wait, is that possible?

it is a half-fight in a supermarket because he loves "dance moms" and says abby's tiktok is funny and meanwhile i think the children in that show should be allowed to sue abby lee miller for child abuse. i tell him that it led to the casual acceptance of child harassment for mainly adult views; and then i am standing, suddenly, in someone else's thrown soda. there's a white lady standing there, furious, saying something about hell-on-earth. i had forgotten i was wearing stuff with pride colors. and then it is this: he had just been casually arguing with me - and within an instant, he squares his shoulders and goes after her like i am his sister

on saturday i sat in a circle while beca played with my hair and we were all over 30 and we laughed about how much happier we are being this old, how much more we appreciate our community. 25 minutes from now, we will be on stage to dance in baggy beige clothing, but for now we look on with envy to the dancers in loud-and-bright buttondowns. where are they getting these shirts! i cry, distraught. everyone laughs. one of our friends has a mushroom witch hat. this would have been cringey in high school, probably. instead we are all delighted with each other; happy just to be here and alive and moving

it's that last week my new friends cried with joy for me when they heard i'm getting top surgery. every so often i have the honor of being the first person someone feels comfortable enough to tell. i'm trying to make long fluttery butterfly wings to wear to pride; but i don't know anything about fabric or dye, so my friends have been sending me their personal advice.

i think in a different poem i would talk about how sometimes you walk into a room and put the mask back on. but i'm sleepy and my whole brain is fuzzy so i think in this one, it's a monday, and my dog and i took a nap on a couch, and i had missed texts from friends. i used to wake up lonely. i think this poem is about walking into a room and seeing someone and just knowing, the way you just-know-sometimes, and then giving them that little smile, and seeing them light up with joy and relief. it is how we always seem to be able to find each other in a crowded room. how we always seem to make friends with each other before even we know-it-to-be-true. it is saying: we're very different people; but i belong to you.

it is harder, yes. but it comes with a built-in family.

[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

[beah388love]

So Cheesy…

Full Masterlist Lando Masterlist

Pairing: Lando Norris x Fem!f1 driver

Summary: Lando uses the cheesiest pick up line on you…

Warnings: swearing,bad language!!! (Please tell me if I missed any!!!)

Lando was streaming with ginge and filly, playing a shooting game whilst you was in yours and landos bedroom watching tv, Lando asked if you wanted to stay in the room with him or stream with him but you didn’t feel up for it and he understood so instead you chilled on your shared bed.

You was confused when you saw your phone light up and even more confused when you saw it was Lando? Why’s he messaging you when he’s literally in the room next to you.

“I miss you” you read from your screen and you rolled your eyes with a smile you couldn’t hold back.

“It’s only been ten minutes.” You typed back

“Still too long.” He messaged back making you smile

“Well I miss you too my adorable boyfriend” you typed with a cheeky grin and hit send.

Lando smiled when he saw your message, “Oi mate! Where are you? He’s shooting me!” Ginge said through lando’s headset catching his attention.

“Oh- sorry! Follow me and we can kill them” lando said back as he grabbed his controller again.

But he still had his phone on his desk so he can see your texts.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Ginge asked laughing and Lando bit his lip trying to hide his smile but failed miserably.

“Who are you texting?” Ginge asked when he saw Lando on his phone smiling, “whoever they are they’re very distracting since you died five minutes ago” ginge joked making filly laugh.

“It’s y/n” Lando smiled as he put his phone down onto his desk again, “you should do that thing where you message her a cheesy pick up line” ginge said

“Oh yeah you should- y/n will be so confused” filly laughed and Lando grinned thinking about it.

“Alright…what pick up line though?” Lando asked as he began searching for some on the internet.

“How about this one? Are you a broom because you’ve swept me off my feet” lando said through his microphone trying to hold in his laughter but failed when he heads ginge and filly dying of laughter.

“Nah! I’ve found one you’ve gotta use!” Ginge said and repeated the pick up line to him to message.

And they all couldn’t help but nearly piss themselves laughing as he typed it to you,

“She’s going to be so confused and probably disgusted-“ filly laughed

“where is she? Usually she’s in the corner of your screen” filly asked and ginge piped up “yeah I’ve missed her today” ginge huffed making Lando chuckle

“She’s literally in our bedroom next to me, so I’m trying to make sure she can’t hear us” Lando laughed quietly.

“I don’t know how you got her mate- she’s literally the funniest girl I’ve ever met I’m not gonna lie not to mention the fact she races with you” ginge said and filly agreed “nah literally tho man- like when I first met her she was well quiet and shy but after like two weeks she became one of my best friends”

Lando smiled at their love for you, but jumped a little when his phone lit up,

-

You stared at your phone when you saw Lando texted you,

“Babe do you have a map?” You was so confused

Why does he want a map?

Why would you have a map?

“No why do you need a map?” You texted back waiting for his reply

“Because I keep getting lost in your eyes” Lando replied and you rolled your eyes at his cheesy pick up line.

-

Lando waited for your reply but it never came “she left me on read you guys” Lando shook his head laughing making ginge and filly scream and die of laughter

“She literally left me on read guys I can see the two ticks” lando said his eyes wrinkling from laughing

“That is literally perfect” filly cried through his mic.

A couple minutes later you poked your head through Lando’s door.

“Baby?” You said making him jump and take his headset off

“What was that about?” You said quietly since you didn’t want people to hear you, since you didn’t know if his cheesy pick up line was a prank or genuine.

“Babe- It was a prank” Lando laughed making you roll your eyes “it was all ginge and filly’s idea! I had nothing to do with that awful pick-up line” Lando chuckled as he put his hands up,

You stood next to him and looked at his camera and saw ginge and filly who were crying of laughter “you guys are dicks.” You said through landos microphone and they both pissed themselves even more

“Sorry! But it was too funny not to!” Ginge said and you rolled your eyes shaking your head with a smile.

You stood up and Lando rested his hand on your waist pulling you close to him only the armchair blocking you “you can stay if you want baby” he said softly “you sure?” You asked and he nodded “of course, they were talking about how much they miss you anyway and I don’t even want to mention the chat! They haven’t stopped talking about you” lando said as he showed you some of the comments.

UserA: Where’s y/nnnnn! We miss her and her jokes!

UserB: OMG- CAN WE TALK ABT THE HAND PLACEMENT?!

UserC: Omg- where did she get that matching pj set cause it’s SO CUTE

UserD: SHES BACK ONG MY FAV COUPLE EVER <3

You smiled at the comments and Lando tapped his thigh gesturing for you to sit on his lap which you did, you straddled him and nuzzled your face into his neck. This was 1000% your favourite place in the entire world.

In his arms, you could only smell him, feel him and your favourite thing was falling asleep to him talking and you giggled when you heard ginge taking the piss out of Lando or filly.

“You guys make me feel so single I’m not even gonna lie” filly joked as he looked at you two, you snuggled on lando’s lap, he arm wrapped around you making small circles on your back under your his hoodie.

“Oi! Y/n- can u hear me?” Ginge said loudly making Lando jump a bit from the noise going directly into his ear but for you it was perfect “yes I can” you laughed at lando holding his headphones away from his ear.

“If you’re ever bored or Lando is being annoying just know I’m free for you always. Always. Hit me up” ginge joked making you giggle and Lando rolled his eyes.

“I’ll keep that noted” you laughed when he winked at you through the screen making Lando shake his head laughing

“Oi! Get your own girlfriend!” Lando argued into his mic making ginge laugh loudly.

You couldn’t hide your grin at their stupidity,

You actually found his stupid,cheesy and cringe pick up line quite cute though…you’d never let him know that though or he wouldn’t stop sending them.

[ddejavvu]

hello!! i hope you’re doing well ❤️ i just read your hotch fic where he sneaks his wife and jack into the hotel room and i was wondering if you’d write something similar where jack is with jess or something and someone from the team catches hotch and reader going into his room except they can’t tell it’s reader and think hotch is cheating and they love the reader and can’t stand the idea of letting them get cheated on so maybe they confront him or call reader while reader is with hotch to tell her or something funny, whatever you find fitting. thank you if you get to this ❤️

i actually fucking adored this idea thank you <333

--

Emily's always taken Hotch for an honorable man. He's chivalrous, opening doors for the ladies on the team and walking them to their cars to be sure that they're safe in parking lots. It's instilled in his very being to be kind to women, so when she sees him trying to cover up a head of blue-dyed hair as he fumbles with the lock on his hotel room, she's perplexed.

That's not you. You don't have blue hair. But Hotch's arm is around her waist, and she's leaning into his side. His hand is more than generous over her skin, even slipping into the hemline of her shorts, and Emily's blood boils.

Aaron's got a grin on his face that she can just barely see without being seen herself, and he sounds all-too-happy to be leading another woman into his hotel room after hours when he chuckles at her advances. She rushes for the bed and Emily has to duck back into her room so as not to be seen when the woman rights herself on the bed, and there's something sickly brewing in her gut as she shuts her door again. She no longer has an appetite to raid the vending machine like she'd planned, so she heads back to her twin bed, hand digging into her pajama pants to retrieve her phone.

Spencer' who's occupying the second bed in the room, looks up inquisitively from his book, "I thought you were going to the vending machine, what happened?"

"Hotch just let some girl into his room. I mean- like, he brought her in, he had his hands all over her and she ran to the bed."

Reid's brows rise towards his scruffy hairline, pink lips downturned, "It wasn't Y/N?"

"She had blue hair," Prentiss shakes her head, "I'm gonna tell her."

"I want to help," Spencer rises from his bed, quickly crossing the room to her own, "I don't want to make her sad, but we can't keep it from her."

Emily nods, but Spencer keeps talking, "I... I can't believe Hotch would do something like that."

"Neither can I." Emily admits, clicking on your text thread. It's heavily decorated with hearts both in the messages and your contact name, and she hopes yours doesn't break when you find out what your husband's been doing behind your back.

Y/N, she types, I don't know how to tell you this, and I wish someone else would, because I don't want to be the one to break your sweet heart. But I just saw Aaron bring some blue-haired girl into his room, and if I'm being honest with you, I think they're having sex. I'm SO sorry honey, I wish I could do something, but I couldn't live with myself if I didn't tell you. Please call me and tell me what's going on with you, I don't want you to be alone all night, and PLEASE don't slip away if you and Aaron don't work things out. For the record I'm rooting for you to dump his sorry ass, but I know you'll need time to work things out. All I ask is that you don't shut us out, honey, please don't let him change the way you feel about us.

P.S Reid is here too and we're both here if you want to talk. We can face-time and we'll be there for you as best we can, baby.

And also you can sleep at my place.

Or Spence's. He says he can sleep on the couch if you want his bed.

I'm so sorry, Y/N, we love you.

Emily can't have pressed send on the last text ten seconds ago before there's a series of urgent knocks on the door. Her guard is up immediately, and she almost considers ignoring it because she's sure it's Hotch coming to tell her off for exposing him. She figures you must have called him, upset, and he's here to ask her to lie for him.

The knocks don't stop, though, and Reid's the one that marches for the door, face set in a glare that's unusually menacing for him. He's deduced the same series of events, but when he swings the door open with as much sass as he can muster, his posture stiffens with shock.

Aaron is on the other side of the door, but you're standing in front of him, hair bright blue, face sheepish.

"Hi Em," You smile at her, then at Reid, "Spence. I was going to join you all for breakfast tomorrow and unveil it, but- um, I think now's a good time to tell you that I dyed my hair blue."

"Oh." Emily hums, mouth hung slightly open, "So it's- it was you."

"it was me," You nod, "But thank you for telling me. I'm glad I can count on you. Both of you," Your eyes flit to Spencer, who's equally astonished as he inspects your new hair dye.

"Oh, that means-" Emily's face wrinkles suddenly, looking at your waist that Aaron's got a hold of as he stands behind you, "Gross, you two were gonna- in the hotel!"

Spencer groans, rushing away from the door and retreating back to his bed where his novel lies.

"It's after hours!" You insist, "It's not like we were doing it in the precinct on government time. We're adults, Emily."

"We're adults too, y'know. With work in the morning. We can't be kept up all hours of the night by your racket! Just go get it over with," She grimaces, "And- hey! Try to get into your room this time before reaching your hand down her pants, perv!"

[venomhoundfanworks]

30 More Fluff Prompts

So my friend gave me the brilliant/horrible idea to make some fluff prompts based off actual dumb shit I've done/had happen to me. So here they are I guess. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

These ones weren't pre-written with just myself in mind, so they actually use the proper 'person A/B' format for prompts. First fluff prompt list can be found >>here<<

If you use one of these, please tag me so I can seeee~˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

(18+), MDNI, NSFW and actual cavity inducing content below the cut ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Person A calls person B for their lunch break everyday. And I mean every single day. Person A says B's call and voice is what even allows them to get through the day.

Person A starts calling person B during their lunch break everyday. Person A's coworkers, who they USED to hang out with during lunch, are all super interested in this new supposed paramour. They start gossiping, theorizing, as well as hustling person A trying to get information about person B like its high school. 🌸Bonus points if this is a bunch of old/middle aged/super jacked men doing this

Person A and B have been online friends/dating/"just flirting"™ for months now. They finally decide to meet up in person. When they do, they both are super awkward and tense at first before quickly loosening up and having a blast by the end of the night like they are old pals.

Person A has person B and C accompanying them. B and C have been trying to get A's attention and quickly start competing against each other. B and C get so caught up in trying to one up each other that they completely don't notice person D just calmly walk up to A, ask them out, and whisk A away while they are arguing.

Person A says that they want to accompany person B to all their doctor's appointments and actually insists on it. When B asks them why, person A says its because they are their partner so they want to be there to support them, especially in case something goes wrong.

Person A tells person B that they have something super important to tell them and to let them know when they can talk about it. Person B, all panicked, asks what it is. Person A, with a completely straight face, just says "I love you". 🌸Bonus dialogue: 🌸*after a long pause* Person B: Wa-was that it?? 🌸Person A, now snickering: What do you mean? Is my LOVE not important to you?

Person A is an artist that knows how to write in a language person B does not. Person A frequently doodles faux tattoos on B, but B doesn't know that the symbols A draws on them are actually messages of love.

Person A and B are sitting next to eachother, fingers intertwined, and lovingly staring into eachothers eyes. They both go in for a kiss. Person B scooches closer and puts their leg in A's lap... only to get jabbed by A's raging hard-on. Person A pulls away from the kiss with an annoyed sigh and says, "I'm sorry, this happens everytime I look at you."

Person A goes up to person B's hotel room with the intention of having sex. However, when person A jumps onto B's lap and starts sweetly kissing them, B absolutely melts from the affection and asks if they can just kiss and cuddle instead.

Person A wakes up next to person B and starts to gently kiss them awake. Person B eventually goes, "I wish I could wake up every morning like this..."

Person A and B are in a long distance relationship. Person A frequently says the words "can I see you?" to B. Which means they want a candid photo of B, right then, in the moment. It doesn't matter what stupid stuff B is doing, or how garbage they feel, A always gushes over how beautiful B is when they send a picture.

Person A is on the phone with person B. A child person A is with (they can be babysitting or it can be their own child, whatever) suddenly shouts, "Are you on the phone with your wife?". Person B starts dying of laughter while person A is just completely shocked like, "M-my wife??" 🌸Bonus dialogue: 🌸Person A: We are not married we are just dating. 🌸Child: But you love them right? 🌸Person A: Yeah? 🌸Child: And you would do anything for them right? 🌸Person A: Yeah...? 🌸Child: THAT MEANS YA MARRIED.

Person A constantly tells everyone how amazing their partner, person B is. Its to the point that person A has now started carrying around pictures of B just so they can brag about them.

Person A told their parent(s) about how deeply they are in love with person B. So now said parent(s) are desperately trying to meet/get to know person B much to A's dismay. B has no idea what is going on.

Person A suddenly texts/calls person B and starts trying desperately to make plans at some point later in the day for them to meet up. Person B keeps shooting down all of A's ideas saying they will be busy during that time or other reasons why the idea won't work. Until person A finally breaks down and says, "look. I just... really want to see you."

Person A is totally lost. Person B finds them and knows immediately they are lost because they are just that pathetic/confused looking. When person A asks person B for directions, B is like 'Ill just show you where to go so you don't get lost again'. B grabs A's hand and leads them to their destination holding hands so they don't lose them.

Person A and B haven't seen eachother in awhile. When they finally see eachother again, they both go in for a big hug. Person A sighs and mumbles "god I missed your hugs". There is then an awkward pause before Person A nervously asks, "...did I say that outloud?"

Person A is hanging out in a mall with some friends when suddenly person B walks up and gives person A a big hug from behind. Person A is confused at first, but is then shocked when they turn around and see person B, someone who they haven't seen in years.

Person A is walking past some stores when suddenly they hear their name shouted from behind them. They turn around to see person B, their best friend from years ago. Person B is wearing the uniform of one of the shops A passed, so B was clearly working and ran out when they saw A. They both run at eachother into an embrace like its a tv show.

Person A and B start a movie/tv show marathon together. At the start, they are practically on opposite sides of the couch. But they keep slowly getting closer and closer as the marathon goes on. Until by the end, they are firmly snuggled into each other.

Dialogue Prompts

"I'm sorry if I was rude when we first met. You were just so pretty I couldn't look at you in the eyes."

Person A: I love you. Person B: *gasps* I love you!! I've been wanting to say that but I didn't want to scare you…

"Honestly? I would be happy if I just got to come home from work everyday to you and a kiss."

"Coming home to you everyday would make everything worth it."

"I never really believed in the whole soulmate thing until I met you. There... isn't really another way to explain how perfect everything came together."

Person A: So, um... Would you be okay if we cuddle? Person B: *immediately scooches over* Yesplease.

Person A: Do you really have to go? Person B: Sweetie. We have been cuddling for 4 hours.

"Look. I don't mind sharing a bed. But I do demand cuddles as payment."

Person A, panicking and running their sentences together: I-I totally understand if your uncomfortable with me sleeping in the bed. I can just sleep on the floor, it's fine-OR I can sleep on the couch- Person B: *slow frog blink* …I'm fine with you sleeping in the bed, dumb-dumb.

Person A: Your couch is like... mega uncomfortable. Can I just like- share the bed with you? Person B: Seriously??!

[anothermansjeans]

Hey i hope you get your mojo back! As my personal indulagance which hopefully also help you may i please requeat 6 and 8 from the first random dialoge list with spencer read and an NONbau reader, exstra love if its an neighrbour reader!

Love and kisses ❤️❤️❤️

thank youuuuuu!!!! i also want to apologize-- you didn't specify gn or fem! reader and i was just about done when i realized i did fem!reader, so lmk and i will happily rewrite if needed 🫶

i also don't know how i feel about this but i tried lmao

also only a little proofread...

prompts:

"Please tell me this is the part where my life doesn’t have to completely fall apart."

"This is the one time I’m wishing they’re calling about my car’s extended warranty."

cw: mention of family member dying, the word vomit being used

wc: 920

++

Spencer was very concerned. His neighbor– his very attractive, down to Earth, and kind neighbor– was frantic, eyes sunken, and just wasn't as… present as she usually is. Spencer was concerned.

His concern also may have been a bit biased because of the small crush he harbored for her… but he didn't want to think about that too hard.

He hadn't been around much recently, getting called into the BAU more often than not, but when time did allow him to linger around his building, he would see the distress on her from a mile away. The other day, right before a case, he was locking up his apartment when she was just getting home. It was quiet this time of day, but that was cut short when her phone started to ring.

“This is the one time I’m wishing they're calling about my car’s extended warranty.”

Her disgruntled mumble was pretty soft, and if Spencer wasn't right across the hall from her he wouldn't have heard it. He wanted to see if she was okay, but she answered her phone and he was being asked for his ETA at the BAU.

When that case was finally over, and he was walking back to his place, he suddenly stopped and turned towards her door. There was a package in his apartment that was placed with his mail in the mailroom, and only really looked at it last week; right before he left for a case. He would've given it to her then if he wasn't already late at the time, and he didn't feel comfortable leaving it in front of her door so this was truly the next best thing.

His plan was the following: knock on your door, tell you he has your package in his apartment, grab said package, and then leave with dignity. There was no way he could screw this up.

His knock was soft, but the way she swung open the door was a sharp contrast to that. “Please tell me this is the part where my life doesn't have to completely fall apart oh– you're not the delivery guy.”

Your dejected look caused a small ache in his chest. “No, but the delivery people tend to not come to our doors, they're supposed to stay in the mail room– you already knew that.” He was getting flustered. This was not a part of the plan. “Are you okay?” He couldn't help himself. After seeing the way you were last week, and how that hasn't changed one bit since he was gone… he really wanted to make sure all was well.

She barely waited a moment before answering. “No,” the crack in her voice was evident. “My great aunt passed and she was a horrible person, but the funeral directors were asking me which address to send the urn to and my sister stepped in making sure I didn't put mine down because I’m ‘most likely to lose aunt Pearl’s ashes’ and the rest of my family overheard and started running with the joke. With me being me I wanted to prove them wrong so I did give them my address and I still don't have the urn but they're saying it was delivered and oh my, God, I’m dumping all of this on you.” Her eyes were welled up with tears, and with how wide her eyes became he was surprised the tears hadn't started to fall. “I’m just going to… let you go on with your day. I’m so sorry, Spencer, maybe we can talk to–” she started to close the door, blocking her face that held a worrisome look.

“I have it!” It’s as if he suddenly remembered why he went over there in the first place “I’m uh, I'm assuming I have it…?”

“You do?” Her door was now wide open again, and a spark of hope was shown in her eyes.

“Yeah, that's why I came over here. I just got back from work and wanted to let you know before I grabbed it. They put it with my stuff and I didn't check it until a couple of days ago and then I had a case and–”

“Spencer?” She cut off his worried rambling.

“Yes?”

“Could you grab it please?”

“Oh! Yeah!” He was like a baby giraffe walking for the first time. His legs were not keeping up with his body as he quickly walked over to his place, unlocked his door, and made way for the box over in the corner by his bookcase. “Again, I’m sorry. I’ve been at work more than not recently and I should've brought it over as soon as I knew it was yours but–”

“Oh, I could kiss you right now!” She grabbed the box so fast it could be considered snatching, but Spencer didn't mind.

“Maybe after I take you on a date?” What the hell was that? She was excited, he was flustered, and for him, word vomit was real. “I’m sorry, I have no idea why I–”

“Spencer…” She stopped his worried ramble once again, and Spencer assumed he died and went to Heaven because there was no way the next words out of her mouth were real. “Ask me tomorrow, when I’m not all flustered. I’ll definitely say yes.”

Yeah, he definitely died and went to Heaven, because the next day, he saw her walking back from the grocery store, walked up to her, stuttered through asking her out for real, and she said yes. Just as promised.

[9mysterybook6]

hey guys

This is the first gacha rant About a person in tumblr

the most important thing I must mention: please do not harass Or bullying whoever is mentioned in this post

I'm just making this announcement for everyone's safety and not to make a drama.

@rhyliethelovelycaterfly

She did something very bad with prometheus2007 and her friends

Rhylie did emotional damage to prometheus2007

Rhylie behavior makes me feel sick and disgusted.

((It all started: August 26th,

prome stumble upon her friends post asking Rhylie to leave her alone. she opened the comments and saw Rhyliewas able to comment there. prome put two comments down, One generally, telling Pami that the best thing to do might be to block Rhylie [she did not know rhylie other than the fact that she was Pami's friend] and a reply to Pami that said it might be best to leave her alone/give her some space. she logged off, thought nothing of it.

When prome would log on an hour later, she didnt expect to be pulled head first into their drama.

Not only did prome get dms from both of them, Rhylie would spam like and reblog her posts [prome dont mind that just thought it was weird] and send prome mutiple asks asking her why prome would tell Pami to block her.

So prome was texting them both back and forth.))

(What prome got from both sides was Rhylie was very controlling and guilt trippy. Pami didnt know what to do with it. She wasnt even going to cut Rhylie off it was just a friendship break at first.)

As you read (Rhylie was very controlling and guilt trippy.) Rhylie was using guilt against them and trying to appear innocent And blame them.

Secondly, prome just suggest to blocked Rhylie In order to take time away from each other AND NOT blocked Rhylie for Forever.

I mean if you have a disagreement with a friend it is better to give them their space and time. But Rhylie did not give her friend their space, but rather continued to cling to them.

((But the more prome and her talked about it the more Pami saw that she needed to get the hell away from Rhylie. and so after a few days pami blocked her.

prome blocked her too. About a week later prome unblocked her and had another conversation because Rhylie would keep making posts about prome and Pami.

Pami wanted prome to ask her to stop and prome said okay.))

when prome spoke to Rhylie This was their conversation.

Rhylie insisted she was dying if Pami NOT unblocked her

this is regarding Rhylie using an external link to view pami's posts even though pami has her blocked and wants her gone

Rhylie actions was wrong and toxic

This is because if your friends blocked you.

You shouldn't say you're dying so you friends unblocked you.

Rhylie does this thing where she asks people to convince others to unblock her heres an example

Rhylie not hide her lies and guilt tripping very well, one of her many red flags is she refuses to leave people be.

Rhylie Like gum stuck in your hair refuses to let go no matter what kind of shampoo you use.

Not only that Rhylie also did apologize faked& falsely. (that's an older one)

Rhylie deletes them or unpins them often BUT like she never stopped

Instead of admitting her mistakes Rhylie makes excuses and lies About her actions

As you can see, Rhylie always plays the victim card.

its been 2 and a half months and Rhylie still lies about prome and makes hate posts.

Rhylie projects things.

It seems that Rhylie is also like a parrot, repeating bad words directed at her to others.

prome called her manipulative, she calls her that.

prome call her reliant , she calls her that.

But there is a word that prome DID NOT SAY but another person or other people

Someone idk who called Rhylie a groomer, shes calling prome a groomer and a creep.

She grabbed "SS proof" that prome said prome was manipulative and that prome called her a dumb cunt which that is not prome.

We don't need a genius to know that her evidence is fake.

another person who I will not name for privacy reasons tried to hep prome with this, making posts about it. But four weeks after this started, prome got really mentally tired. Rhylie threanted to someone else that they were gonna call the police, and prome couldnt do it anymore and closed her old account.

As you can see Rhylie Threaten HER victims to control them

How does anyone know thats going to happen?

Sometimes we don't see red flags About someone until it's too late.

Rhylie is still making posts about prome lying about prome to this day

I refuse to stay silent on this subject.

makes prome feel like she have to always be super duper nice to everyone on tumblr or else theyre gonna believe rhyle and think she a groomer

And let me remind you, I know prome and SHE The most wonderful and creative person you will meet here.

prome get so scared that people are gonna take what rhylie says as the truth.

its not the truth, it never was and it never will be.

prome really really wanted to help rhylie too, not just pami. prome wish no harm on rhylie and she hope rhylie can find the help she needs to grow and mature.

but I dont think theres any helping her rn bevause she cannot help herself.

its a shame.

rhylie just a 21 year old person on tumblr who wont leave people the hell alone.

prome asked her to stop several people have and rhylie wont.

"rhylie continued to haras and Sending inappropriate pictures to prometheus2007" clarify this means hate art BECAUSE THAT COULD BE TAKEN ANOTHER WAY

I spoke with Rhylie to Leave prometheus2007 alone In one post Talking about them

But of course the coward deleted my comments and her comments

And after talking She was mentioning my name on her blog.

And this was my reaction and comment.

ME(My biggest mistake was talking to you leave me alone)

And that was Rhylie answered

Rhylie(Okay I'll leave you alone IF you blocked prometheus2007)

And another comment

And when I told her This is unnecessary drama. Why do you insist on this?

Rhylie answered (Because I hope Drama becomes reality)

Rhylie hopes the drama will be a big event and make people hate the people mentioned in the drama.

Frankly, I feel disgusted and angry at her actions.

If Rhylie is innocent as she claim

Rhylie had to stop the drama and forget about it.

But no Rhylie still posts about it.

Here is one of her previous posts. But she erased it

Rhylie literally want to makes everyone hate prometheus2007 and others Even though they are the victims here.

Even though she is 20 years old, she acts childishly and immaturely.

And the worst part Rhylie lies about her dying.

Rhylie put pressure on someone, She makes them feel like her life is going to die because of them.

Rhylie acts innocent and makes others feel guilty for something that is not their fault but hers.

Although I refused to talk to Rhylie, she still mentioned my name in her blog.

Rhylie even sent me an invitation to Angelic KittyGod community And although I refused Rhylie kept sending the invitation community

I told her to leave me alone but she still mentions me in her blog.

I made this post NOT for drama or TO hate on Rhylie

I want to warn everyone about Rhylie.

But this warning to her followers and friends Be careful with her.

If you feel uncomfortable with Rhylie behavior towards you or Rhylie does something that makes you uncomfortable

blocked Rhylie immediately For your safety

Because in my opinion Rhylie is an untrustworthy person.

Even if her work is good art doesn't mean she's a good person.

And be careful when you talk to her.

First red flags

-Rhylie will keep stalking you Even if you blocked her

She will try to make you feel guilty and that you did something wrong While the truth is you do nothing.

Rhylie will spread lies about you and her.

-And if you ask Rhylie to stop this, she does not listen and continues to spread lies And mentioned your name in her blog Even though you told Rhylie to stop putting their name on her blog.

my final message to all of you

It is better for you to forget about her

Rhylie is not worth your time or mention.

Do not talk to Rhylie or go to her page, Rhylie does not deserve this effort or your attention

And my message to Rhylie If you are reading this It is in your best interest and everyone's interest that you admit the truth and your mistakes.

But I know you, you will do the opposite You will reply to this post of mine and you will say that I am also a liar

go ahead Rhylie:

Make your gacha character crying or angry Whatever your reaction, you are the loser in this case.

You just prove my words about you

AND you don't dare on prometheus2007 OR pami OR Someone else

The only person to blame is yourself.

Frankly, I won't be surprised if you threat me or haras me Because no matter what you say, you will remain guilty.

I don't want people to hear your lies again.

You are the one who did this and you have to take responsibility for your actions.

Enough means enough

Don't trust or believe Rhylie.

Don't bother with her, Forget about her

We are rational people.

We all agree that the drama is not essential.

Just have to be careful of this Rhylie.

[oldiesstationlover11607]

CHEERARD!!!!!!!!1!!

Cheerleader - Gerard Way x Reader

Warnings: Making out, sexual references (Frank lmao), Gerard feeling insecure.

Word Count: 1141

A/N: Honestly love that I have an anon keeping me writing for MCR bc I literally love them so much. While TOP is my main favourite thing at the moment, MCR and Gerard feel like old friends that I love to revisit whenever I can 😘

The hum of the crowd grew louder outside the dressing room, sending a low, thrilling buzz through the walls. I leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, watching as Gee adjusted his green and white cheerleader costume in the mirror, fidgeting with every little detail. He looked incredible—though I could tell by the pinched look in his eyes and the way he chewed his lip that he didn’t feel that way.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, glancing at me through the mirror. His voice held an edge of nervousness that was rare for him. Gerard was usually so fearless, so unapologetic. But tonight, something about this outfit had him on edge.

“Positive,” I said, pushing off the door frame and walking up behind him. “You look...”

I trailed off on purpose, letting my eyes wander up and down his body, drinking in every inch of him in the little pleated skirt, the cropped shirt. His eyes met mine in the mirror, cheeks flushing a faint pink. He looked shy but tried to cover it with a smirk.

“Ridiculous?” he guessed, tugging at the hem of the skirt. “I mean, look at me. They’re all gonna laugh, you know that, right?”

“Oh, please,” I scoffed, moving closer until I could feel the warmth radiating off him. “First of all, you’re not ridiculous, you’re amazing. And second, they’re not going to laugh. They’re going to lose their minds in the best way possible. We all love you and think you’re beautiful inside and out so I suggest you agree with the majority.”

He laughed, but it was soft, uncertain. “Maybe. But what if I look… weird? Or, I don’t know… not like myself?”

I put my hands on his shoulders, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “Not like yourself? Honey, you’re the guy who wore fake blood on stage, bleached your hair for one album and then the next dyed bright red. And don’t even get me started on that one set when you ran into the microphone stand and gave yourself a black eye and then continued to sing the whole gig. You know how to push boundaries—and this? This outfit? It’s just one more thing to show them you’re amazing.”

He tilted his head, considering my words, and a little smirk began to play at the corners of his mouth. “You really think I can pull this off?” He looked at himself in the mirror and I could tell the outfit was truly starting to grow on him. I knew he’d love it. 

I stepped closer until there was barely an inch between us. “Gee you’re already pulling it off.” My voice was low, soft. “And you look… you look really good.”

His eyes sparkled with a flicker of confidence, but it wasn’t fully there yet. I knew him too well—knew he needed more than words to believe it. Slowly, I brought my hand to his cheek, brushing a strand of hair from his face. His breathing slowed, and I felt him lean into my touch.

“Show me,” he whispered, barely audible. It was an invitation, a challenge.

So I did.

I let my fingers trail down his cheek, over his jawline, then traced the neckline of his dress. I could feel his pulse quicken as I moved my hand down to his waist, resting there for a moment before pulling him toward me. His eyes fluttered closed as I leaned in, pressing my lips softly against his. He tasted faintly of chapstick, with that hint of coffee he’d had earlier.

The moment he kissed me back, all that uncertainty, all the nerves, seemed to melt away. His hands found my waist, pulling me even closer until there was no space left between us. It was gentle at first, both of us savoring the moment, the feel of each other. But soon, the tension between us grew, and his hands wandered to my back, pulling me flush against him as he deepened the kiss.

“God, you’re good at that,” he murmured against my lips, his voice breathless.

I chuckled, threading my fingers through his hair, tugging lightly. “I’m just trying to get you out of your head, you know?”

“It’s working,” he whispered, pulling me back for another kiss, this one longer, deeper. His hands slipped under the edge of my shirt, his fingers tracing patterns along my back, sending little shivers up my spine. I could feel my heart pounding, my entire body responding to his touch, to the intensity of his kiss.

Our lips parted, but we stayed close, foreheads touching, our breathing heavy in the quiet of the room. I couldn’t help but smile, biting my lip as I looked at him.

“You really think I look good in this?” he asked, but this time, there was a playful glint in his eye.

I grinned, taking a step back so I could look him over from head to toe. “Good? You look incredible. Like, actually jaw-droppingly hot.”

He laughed, a sound so pure and free that it made my heart soar. “Guess I owe you for this confidence boost,” he said, pulling me close again. 

I leaned up on my toes, pressing a lingering kiss to his jawline. “Just keep being you, please. I love you babe.”

Our lips met again, and this time, we didn’t hold back. His hands found my waist again, lifting me up slightly as he backed me up against the dressing room wall, the intensity between us igniting like fire. His lips trailed down to my neck, leaving a trail of warm, lingering kisses that made me shiver.

The knock on the door startled us both, and we pulled apart, breathless, just as we heard Frank’s voice on the other side.

“Hey, lovebirds! Show starts in five! Unless you guys want to be the opening act?”

Gerard rolled his eyes, still grinning, and called out, “We’re coming!”

“Yeah, I bet you are,” Frank muttered through the door, making us both laugh.

Gerard turned to me, his smile softer now, with just a hint of that earlier shyness creeping back. “Guess we better go out there.”

I brushed a thumb over his cheek, giving him one last kiss. “Go knock ‘em dead, cheerleader. They’re not ready for this.”

He smirked, catching my hand as I started to pull away. “Thanks… for everything,” he said, his voice so soft it was almost lost in the noise outside.

“Anytime. Now go out there and show them exactly who you are.”

With one last, lingering look, he released my hand and turned toward the door, glancing back at me with a glint in his eye before stepping out. And as I watched him walk out to meet the roaring crowd, I knew he was finally ready to take the stage, in all his wild, unstoppable glory.

//

REQUESTS OPEN :)

[hheaven-sentt]

blood and bone (II)

summary: you want to open him up like the bodies you're used to, and he wants to keep himself at an arm's length | leon kennedy x gn!reader

word count: 5k

warnings: gore, violence, language, panic attacks, child death, a bit of cringe, angst if you squint, death and dying, yearning and pining, probably incorrect medical happenings (again, everyone say thank you google)

notes: i thought i was done after this one but there's more i promise. i have written closer to 15k now, so be ready | ao3

blood and bone ml

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s almost two weeks before you see Leon again. He left your apartment sometime before you woke up that night, probably escaping before it could get awkward. You pretend that you haven’t thought about it almost every second since, and he pretends it never happened. Both of you seem content with that.

“Hey, when you get a chance, can you see if Leon’s found anything about the mystery virus?” Rebecca asks one morning, spinning in her chair to look at you. You narrow your eyes in confusion.

“Why can’t you do it?” you ask. She smiles at you like she knows something you don’t.

“Don’t pretend like I haven’t noticed you’ve been avoiding each other,” she says, grinning. “One second he’s like your personal guard dog, and the next, you’re pretending he doesn’t exist,”

“He has his own job to attend to,” you say by way of explanation. Rebecca narrows her eyes at you. “He’s not my guard dog,”

“Just see if he’ll send us whatever he’s found,” she says. “He’ll be on site tomorrow,”

“Why?”

“Probably using it as an excuse to make sure you’re still breathing,” she teases. You hate the way your face heats up at the comment. 

“I’m sure he has better things to do than check on me,” you say, but you’re not as confident in that anymore. Whatever he was doing that night, work related or otherwise, was pushed aside to make sure you were okay. The entire interaction gnaws at your stomach.

Easier that way, he had said. What did that even mean? How could it be easier to pretend to dislike someone? You always found it easier to be on people’s good side, not make them assume you hate them. The thought makes you frown.

Sure enough, you catch Leon in the hallway chatting to someone the next day. He looks good, comfortable. Whether you intend to or not, you fix your hair a bit before approaching.

“Got a second?” you ask, interrupting the conversation. The woman looks at you with a narrowed glare, but you keep your focus on Leon. He glances between you and the woman before nodding.

He follows you to your office, where he shuts the door behind him. You can’t tell why that makes you nervous. It isn’t often that you’re alone with Leon, and the last time you were, you felt far too giddy about it.

“Rebecca wanted me to ask if you’ve found anything on our mystery virus,” you say, wringing your hands together. “I’m sure you would’ve sent it to us already if you had,”

He shrugs. “A few leads here and there. I’ve sent most of it your way,”

You frown, your eyebrows bunching together. “Then why would she..?”

Oh. Curse Rebecca and her cunning nature. Your frown deepens. Leon seems to put the pieces together too, given the way he’s looking at you.

“Sorry to waste your time, then,” you say, looking at your shoes. “I’m sure your conversation with that woman was far more riveting,”

The words come out clipped even though you didn’t mean for them to. Your tone confuses you, like your brain is operating on its own accord.

“We were just chatting,” Leon says, taking a step forward. Your heart leaps into your throat. “Am I not allowed to do that?”

He’s smiling when you look up at him. It’s lopsided and teasing, and it makes your heart rate tick up.

“You’re allowed to do whatever you please,” you say, tone betraying you once again. So what if he pretends like you don’t exist, but then talks and laughs with a woman you’ve never seen before like they’re old friends? It has nothing to do with you.

“Are you…jealous?” he asks. The word comes out of his mouth like he’s mocking you, but you’re not sure he is. You scowl.

“No,” you say, though you’re unsure of how true that is. “Just apologizing for stealing you away for nothing,”

He’s full on grinning now. It makes your cheeks heat up and your insides churn. You hate whatever sickness he’s given you. Maybe you’ll call in sick tomorrow, just to be sure you don’t have a mystery virus of your own.

“I wouldn’t say it was nothing,” he says. “No harm in speaking to each other,”

You think there’s a lot of harm in speaking to him. Something’s changed about you when you’re around him. You’re unable to form coherent thoughts, unable to speak, and unable to act like he doesn’t affect you. You despise it, and despise him for making you this way. Maybe you caught a bug, a cold or something. That would explain away your symptoms.

“No, there’s not,” you say. “I have some work to do, but you’re welcome to wait around for Rebecca. I’m sure she’d have better questions for you,”

He nods, and takes a seat on top of a desk. He folds his legs under him. Your fingers twitch with the urge to reach out to him, but you refrain, and return to your work.

Leon makes it much harder to focus. He’s not even doing anything objectively annoying, unless you count his existence as annoying. Though you might; it’s definitely starting to feel that way. You can’t get through half a report without cutting a glance at him. Every now and then, he picks up a knick knack that’s made its home on your desk, inspects it thoroughly, and then returns it to its place. He does this several times, like he’s trying to dissect your brain without speaking to you. At one point, he picks up a picture of your family.

“Am I allowed to ask, or is that off limits?” he says, looking up at you for the first time since he sat down. You blink at him.

“I haven’t seen them in a few years,” you say. “They live in Oregon,”

He hums, inspecting the picture further. “You have a sister,”

“She’s two years younger than me,” you say, turning your chair to face him. “She’s got this big house and a husband, two kids and one on the way last I heard,”

“And where do they think you are?” he asks. Your breath hitches in your throat.

“They think I’m in Nicaragua right now, doing research on medicinal plants,” you say. There’s a distinct pain in your chest that radiates outwards towards your limbs. “I don’t have cell service there, so I haven’t spoken to them in almost a year,”

Leon frowns, setting the picture back down on your desk. “I’m sorry. That must be hard,”

You nod. “It is,” you say. “But it’s something we all have to do. It’s important to keep them at an arm’s length,”

“I know,” he says. “That doesn’t make it easier,”

“No, it doesn’t,”

The silence returns, but it’s strangely more comfortable. An itch blooms across your skin as you watch Leon. There’s something different about him, has been since you returned home. Sometimes, you find yourself thinking about the way his arms felt around you, and you almost wish he would do it again. For some reason, you think he would if you asked. It’s a working theory, one that has yet to be tested, but you’re nothing if not dedicated to science.

“I lost my parents when I was young,” he says, voice quiet even if you’re the only two in the room. “It’s not something I think about anymore, but I know how hard that could be,”

You feel like your heart freezes in your chest. Leon just told you something about himself, something that has no bearing on his wellbeing or the situation at hand. He’s being open, honest. You want to fling your arms around him and kiss him senseless.

“I’m sorry,” you say instead, your last bit of decorum holding you with two hands. “That must have been hard for you,”

He shrugs. “It was. But you learn to live with it,”

You nod. He’s watching you carefully, an emotion present on his face that you can’t discern. There’s a tension in the air, one that makes you nervous. You really want to reach out to him. You wonder about the way his skin might feel against yours. He’s all calloused palms, rough edges, and stunningly beautiful features. You didn’t even know people could be made this beautiful.

Rebecca cuts through the tension with her entrance. “Good, you’re both here,”

You blink away the interaction, hoping that it didn’t look as intense as it felt. “You need both of us?”

“Not really,” she says. “But it certainly makes my life easier,”

Rebecca bustles through the room, spreading a few pictures out on the desk in front of you. They’re all of ugly, mangled bodies. You wish she would’ve warned you before forcing you to look at them. All the bodies look more or less the same, and you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference if it weren’t for a few defining features on each of them. They look eerily similar to the one you dissected a few weeks ago. Missing fingers, toes, noses, jaws. Skin simply falling off their bones and collecting into a sinewy pool beneath them. It makes your stomach churn.

“These are all bodies collected at different sites,” Rebecca says. “See how they’re all in more or less the same condition? We think this might be our mystery virus,”

You nod, inspecting the pictures a bit closer. Leon looms over you to see, too, invading your space. You’re almost never this close to him, and when you are, he definitely doesn’t smell this good. You wrinkle your nose.

“Do we happen to have samples?” you ask, keeping your focus on the images. “I’d really like to cross examine them,”

“Way ahead of you,” Rebecca says. “They’re in the lab right now,”

You hum.

“When and where are these from?” Leon asks, turning the picture in front of you more towards him.

Rebecca moves in between you. “This one is from a few days ago, found only a few miles out from where you guys were. This one is from about a week before that, and it was found about a day’s walk out,”

You furrow your brows as you take in her information. Those two are definitely from the same site, and one could’ve wandered off.

“And this one?” you ask, pointing to the decidedly grosser one of the three.

“That’s just the thing,” Rebecca says. “This one was found here,”

“Here?” you ask, spinning to face her. “Like, here here?”

She shakes her head. “It was found out in New York. Still too close for comfort, though,”

You nod, taking a closer look at the picture.

“What are you thinking?” Leon asks in a hushed voice. You hate the way it crawls across your skin.

“I’m thinking that we need to take a trip to New York,” you say, locking your gaze with him. He grins at you like you’re sharing a secret. You feel your heart hammer in your ears.

“I’ll give Hunnigan a call,” he says, keeping his eyes on you. You finally return his grin.

With that, he’s up and out of the room quickly, bustling past Rebecca, who turns her gaze to follow him out of the room.

“What was that?” she asks, pinning you with a look. You shrug.

“Just excited about a lead,” you say, though you know there’s more to it. You try your best not to let it show on your face.

You return to your reports as best you can. Your brain is still swimming with the prospect of traveling to New York. Before, you’d been out in the middle of Iowa, but now you’re much closer. Although you feel like you’re onto something finally, the thought of it being on this side of the Mississippi frightens you. You try to shake the nerves. Rebecca keeps a watchful eye on you as you hammer through as many reports as you can. You’re certain she can feel your giddiness rolling off you in waves.

Leon wants to go with you. For the first time since you met him, he doesn’t seem completely disgusted with the idea of working with you. It makes you smile.

“I know you don’t have a lovesick grin on your face right now,” Rebecca says, bringing you back to the real world. You wipe the smile from your face.

“I don’t have a lovesick anything,” you say, cheeks growing warm. “The only sick I am is sick of you,”

Rebecca laughs, full and wide, and you know she’s just teasing. It makes you feel like a child. You remember how you felt in grade school when you’d liked one of the boys in your class. He was funny and smart, and he never made you feel outcasted by your interests. Obviously nothing came of it; you’ve always been timid and reserved. But you remember those feelings fondly. They’re akin to what you feel now.

The thought is sobering.

“Oh my God,” you say aloud, mostly to yourself. Rebecca eyes you as you turn to face her. “I have a fucking crush on Leon Kennedy,”

Rebecca sets her mouth into a line, attempting in earnest to withhold a laugh. “I could’ve told you that,”

You put your face in your hands to save yourself the shame of bearing your burning cheeks. You can even feel the spark of heat in the tips of your ears. Suddenly, you feel pathetic, weak.

“This is so embarrassing,” you mumble. You’re not even sure Rebecca can hear you through the muffling of your hands. “I might just have to quit. Run away and start a new life. Fake my death,”

This time, Rebecca does laugh. She stands and puts her hands on your shoulders, and says, “There’s no need to do all that,”

“What other option is there?”

“Everyone has a little workplace crush,” she says, giving your shoulders a squeeze. “It happens to the best of us,”

You fold your arms on your desk and plop your head into the middle of them. You can’t bear to look Rebecca in the eye right now. “I hate this,”

With a pat, she says, “You’ll grow to love it,”

You’re back in the building two days later, bag slung over your shoulders as you wait on the helipad for Leon. You’re bouncing on your heels and shifting your weight between your feet as you anxiously await his arrival. You haven’t seen him since your little revelation, and the thought of spending who knows how much time alone with him is making you nervous. You smooth a hand over your hair.

You’re an adult, act like one, you think, gnawing on your lower lip. This is your worst nightmare. Whatever hell awaits you in New York is nothing compared to the churning of your stomach now.

Leon bursts through the door to the roof, jogging to meet you at the helicopter. “Sorry, I was running a bit behind,”

“You’re lucky we didn’t leave without you,” you quip, the corners of your mouth turning upward slightly.

“Good luck with that,” he says.

It’s only a few minutes until you’re up in the air. You’re hyper aware of the way your shoulder brushes his every few seconds with each jostle of the vehicle. You’re also aware of your breathing. Is it too fast? Too slow? Are you inhaling often enough? You feel like you’re pretending to be a person and this is your first day on the job. You wish you could go back to the cold indifference of before.

It’s almost two hours later when you finally touch down. In that time, you could’ve watched a movie and maybe started another one. Instead, you spent the time holding your breath and giving clipped responses whenever Leon asked if you were okay. The nerves are definitely getting to you. You feel your eye twitch.

You’re at another makeshift pop-up site. There’s a few tents scattered around, a lone porta-potty that makes you cringe, and a group of people awaiting your arrival.

“Listen,” Leon says, hand circling your elbow to keep you rooted in place. “I know you’re used to doing the grunt work, but you’re our star player right now. They’re going to want to talk to you,”

You frown. “Can’t you do it for me?”

Leon grins at you. “I don’t have that brain of yours,”

With a sigh, you nod. He releases your arm, and you sling your bag over your shoulder. The group contains four men and one woman, all of which look equally as intimidating. You feel out of place. These people are former cops, ex-military, and trained to shoot with their eyes closed. You just happened to know how to stitch people closed and read too much about medicine in your free time. The playing field was anything but level, and you were the one going uphill.

You approach them carefully, paying attention to how they react to you. They don’t move much, save for their eyes watching the way you shift on the balls of your feet as you come to stand in front of them.

“Glad you could make it,” the woman says. “We’ve been falling over ourselves trying to figure this out. We hope you can help us,”

You nod. “I intend to,”

There’s not much conversation after that. They lead you to a small tent that’s been set up. Your own workstation. You’ve never had one like this before. Usually, you pick a spot that’s been unclaimed until your arrival, and you only ever use it for injuries. Now, though, you were going to do real work. It almost excited you.

“I’m sure it’s probably different from what you’re used to,” the woman says, having followed you into the tent. You turn to consider her.

“Not really, honestly,” you say, shrugging. “It is nice to have my own space, though,”

She smiles. “We’ve been told you’re not usually ahead on cases, so I hope you know what you’re doing,”

You tilt your chin up a bit higher when you say, “I’m more than capable of handling it. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have accepted my help,”

The woman nods, then leaves you to your devices. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. She’s right, you’re not used to being a frontrunner on cases, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t figure it out. You shake the interaction from your bones as you begin setting up.

When Leon finds you later, he seems tired. You feel grateful that he did, in fact, do most of the talking, but you’re sure he’s exhausted from it. He settles down into a chair that’s been left askew in your set up process.

“I’d like to try to find one,” you say, not knowing how else to broach the subject. When you turn to look at him, Leon’s eyes are so wide that you’re worried they’ll fall out of his skull.

“No way,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s too dangerous,”

“I need to see how they operate,” you say. “We’ll never learn anything by studying their remains,”

He frowns. “You’ve learned a lot so far,”

“Not enough,” you huff, wringing your hands together. “I need to know what they do, what they eat, how long they live. I’ll never get that from a corpse,”

Leon grumbles, mulling the idea over in his brain. “There’s a thousand ways for this to go wrong,”

You smile. “You won’t let it,”

Leon comes to collect you the next morning. You’re clad in a pair of boots, an old pair of jeans, and a loose fitting t-shirt. You hope it’s good enough for whatever awaits you. Leon looks less than pleased to be bringing you along. He hasn’t given up his sour mood from the night before. You try to ignore it and the way it makes you feel.

You walk for most of the journey. You’re tailing behind Leon as he scouts the area, watching for anything that moves with ill intent. You’re not sure why. There’s nothing more than rabbits and deer where you are. It isn’t until you happen upon the ruins of what was once a small city that you begin to feel anxious. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea, but there’s definitely no going back now.

Buildings crumble around you. You can smell the smoke of fires that you can’t see, and the rotten stench of bodies isn’t making it any better. What was once asphalt is now gravel beneath your feet. It crunches under your weight with each step. It’s dystopian. There’s not a single sign of life, not even the chirp of a bird, for miles. Something lurches in your stomach.

You follow Leon towards the city’s center. There isn’t much happening, but there’s an air of apprehension. You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, so to speak. You gnaw on your bottom lip.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see movement. Leon sees it too, reaching around to push you further behind him. It’s a person, with jerky and inconsistent movements, hobbling along the broken road. Your breath catches in your throat. Leon ushers you behind a piece of broken concrete, giving you the perfect view of your subject.

It’s covered in blood. You’re not sure of its origin, but you don’t think you want to find out. It’s in a similar condition to the bodies you’ve seen: missing fingers and nose, a jaw that’s clinging to cheek, and skin seems to just roll off the muscle with each staggering step. 

“I need to get closer,” you whisper. Leon looks like you’ve just told him you’re going to shoot yourself.

“Absolutely not,” he says. “You’re lucky we’re as close as we are,”

“I need to see it,” you say. Whatever pleading look is in your eye somehow works. You see some of the tension ease off of him. “Just..cover me, or whatever,”

With a curt nod, he shuffles back a step. You begin your crawl towards the creature. If it notices your movement, it doesn’t react. It continues its stumbling trek to whatever destination. You rise a bit as you approach, and this time, it turns towards you. You almost gasp, but manage to keep it within your lungs. It doesn’t have any eyes, just gaping, bloody holes where eyes should be. It’s wearing the pieces of a tattered dress. You hold your breath as it turns what should be its nose towards the sky like a dog. There’s a scent in the air that it catches. It moves with more ferocity in the direction of whatever it smells.

You turn back to Leon, who beckons you with his hand. You move to follow the creature. You wish you didn’t once you see what it’s after. The mangled corpse of a child stares up at you, unblinking. Her arms are twisted above her head, half eaten. She’s missing so much of herself. Your eyes turn watery as you turn and vomit on the concrete below you.

In your sputtering, you don’t notice the creature has now turned its sights on you. It approaches much quicker than you’ve seen it move, and you scurry backwards until your back connects with a piece of fallen debris. Your heart hammers in your chest as you try to collect your breathing. You hope it can’t hear your racing pulse or the quickness of your breath. Blood roars in your ears as it draws nearer, emitting a sound so inhuman that it makes you want to vomit again.

Two loud pops, and it collapses on top of your legs. In a panic, you kick it away, curling in on yourself once it’s been removed. You claw at your hair, breathing so quickly now that you’re sure you’ll pass out.

Leon’s in front of you seconds later, scanning you for injuries. You can’t breathe. You can’t do anything but stare at the creature and remember the corpse of that girl.

“Stop,” Leon says, pulling your hair free of your rigid fingers. “Stop. You’ll hurt yourself,”

You can’t even speak. You need something to grab. You grip onto Leon’s forearms with all your might. You’re definitely going to black out.

“You’re not going to black out,” he says, voice too calm for what you’re feeling and thinking. “That would be a real pain in my ass,”

Your breathing finally begins to slow, a pain in your chest radiating out towards your limbs. You look Leon in the eyes for the first time, and you feel instantly calmer. He’s here, he kept you safe, he’s helping you now.

“That’s right,” he says, voice low enough to be secretive. “I’m here. I’m here,”

You nod, mouth feeling dry. You’re babbling, thoughts coming out in words that you don’t even recognize. Your racing thoughts begin to slow. You blink hard a few times, trying to refocus. You can’t stop thinking about that creature.

“Eyes,” you say, voice hoarse like you’ve been screaming. Maybe you have.

“Eyes?”

“It didn’t have any eyes,” you say. Leon’s brow furrows in confusion. “Leon, it didn’t have any eyes,”

“Okay?” he says.

“Soft tissue,” you mumble, thinking. “The infection goes for soft tissues first,”

At this, Leon breaks out into a grin. “Good thing this trip wasn’t for nothing,”

“Bring it back with us,” you say, beginning to stand. Leon helps you to your feet. You don’t take your eyes off the collapsed body near you. “It was going to eat. It needs fuel. Not for the body, though. For the virus,”

Leon drags the body behind him. You’re not too concerned. It’s already so tattered and torn that any additional damage won’t matter much. It’s just too fresh to lose.

You arrive back at your site and lead Leon into your tent. He sets the body up on a table as you pull on a pair of gloves. You’re covered in dirt, so you’re not sure why you bother, but the thought of rooting around in the body with no additional layer makes you sick to your stomach. You get to work quickly, searching the body.

“I can’t believe I didn’t look for this earlier,” you mumble. Leon watches you carefully, like you’ll break at any moment.

“Look for what?” he asks. His voice is delicate and sweet. If it weren’t for the anxiety clenching your heart and the circumstances, you would kiss him.

“The stomach,” you say, cracking a few ribs. The sound is gentle, and the bones give way with little force.

You find the stomach after peeling back a few layers of muscle that have been reduced to almost nothing. It’s so thin and flimsy that you’re not even sure you could touch it without it disintegrating in your fingers. The innermost layers have been completely eaten away. The sight makes you giddy. A laugh bubbles up in your throat and a smile cracks across your dry lips.

The virus goes for soft tissues first. It eats them away. This explains the missing fingers and toes. It explains the jaws clinging onto life. Connective tissues are being corroded, which is causing the skin to slough off the bodies in pools.

“Oh my God,” you laugh, grinning so wide that your cheeks hurt. “Oh my God!”

Leon looks at you like you’re crazy, which you can’t blame him for. You’re clutching a half decomposed stomach in your hand and laughing like someone just told you the funniest joke. You’re certain you look crazy.

“I sure hope you figured something out,” Leon says, a teasing tone etched into the words. You laugh again.

“I think I did,” you say. “Let me close this up, and then I’ll fill you in,”

You make quick work of the clean up. You shuffle into a new pair of clothes after wiping the dirt from your skin as best you can. You find Leon, clean and comfortable, sitting in a chair in your tent. Your skin sizzles under his gaze, and you try to remember the events of the day. They’re tinged pink by his presence.

“Gonna tell me what’s going on in that brain of yours?” he asks, smiling slightly at you. “Or do I have to guess?”

You roll your eyes, sitting across from him. “I was getting there,”

You pull a few files out of a box from under the work table. You dig through them for a minute before handing them to Leon.

“What are these?” he asks, looking at you through his lashes. You grin, feeling giddy from your knowledge and his stare.

“Our virus,” you say, breathless.

Leon furrows his brows and begins flipping through the files. When he’s finished reading, he looks up at you, grinning like you’ve told him the greatest news in the world. He stands, rereading the file and pacing. You stand, too, mostly because you can’t sit anymore.

“You’re a genius,” he says, softly, sweetly. Your heart hammers in your chest.

“I knew I’d seen something like this before,” you say, voice a bit far off. “It’s been modified somehow, but that’s our virus,”

Leon discards the file on top of a cabinet. There’s a tension in the room now, one that makes you feel a bit smaller. You’re drunk on his praise. You want him to think you’re smart and funny and kind. And you want him to tell you so.

He approaches you quietly, soft steps entering your orbit. Your breath catches in your throat.

“Thank you,” you say. “For earlier,”

“Don’t thank me,” he returns, studying you. “But don’t ever do that to me again,”

Your cheeks heat up. You wonder, for a moment, if he’s going to kiss you. You want him to. You really want him to. You think you want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything. Gently, far more gentle than you’ve ever beheld, he takes one of your hands in his. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, sending a shiver down your spine. You fight the urge to look away from him.

“Please don’t ever do that to me again,” he says. His voice is so soft, like he’s sharing a secret with you. Maybe he is.

“I’ll try not to,” you say, equally as quiet.

For a moment, there is nothing else around you. No stark white tent, no decaying corpses, no danger. Just him. He smells like cedar and smoke. His skin is so smooth up close, so perfectly crafted. His delicate features are so beautiful; soft lips, dimpled chin, round cheekbones.

He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but hesitates. Instead, he gives  your hand a squeeze and takes a step away from you. You feel a stutter in your heartbeat.

Easier that way.

Easier at an arm’s length.

You’re not sure you want easy anymore.

[hina-has-no-life]

Dark Era: Dazai and Akutagawa

The Scene in Dark Era where Dazai shoots Akutagawa was abusive and messed up, but sadly justified on Dazai's end.

Now this may sound harsh but let's take a step back from the emotions the scene causes and look at it purely logical and analytical. (No I am not excusing the abuse Akutagawa went through. Dazai had no right to abuse him but this scene is more than abuse.)

What happens in this scene?

Per Dazai's orders as an Executive within the Port Mafia agents from Mimic were captured to be taken to Kouyou for interrogation, as is her department. Akutagawa then kills the hostages in retaliation for the casualties the Mafia suffered at the hands of Mimic. Dazai proceeds to punch and shoot Akutagawa.

In essence this is what happened: Akutagawa disregarded direct orders of his executive in front of multiple people and said executive. Plain and simple, this is insubordination.

We know, due to Stormbringer, that insubordination of the Boss and his executives (who essentially work as extensions of the Boss within the BSD Mafia) is a death sentence. It's at the same level as betrayal.

So, while messed up and abusive, Dazai's reaction can be classified as a mercy. Had it been another executive or Mori, Akutagawa would be dead. And no, you can not use that Chuuya cares for Akutagawa as an argument against Akutagawa dying here were it Chuuya. Chuuya's loyality is to the Mafia and Mori in a situation like this. We saw this at the end of the Guild Arc when Chuuya asked Mori what punishment Akutagawa should face for disregarding Mafia orders and going on to the Moby Dick. Since the moment in Dark Era is a similar case, it is safe to assume Chuuya would have asked Mori for the punishment and then delivered it.

Now here comes the much more interesting part about this scene I sadly do not see talked about. (If you find posts talking about it please send them my way!)

This scene shows us, in a very subtle way, how the dynamic between Akutagawa and Dazai works.

But how? Let's count it: - Akutagawa is very self assured in his insubordination. - Dazai gives him a chance to speak up about his reasoning, to defend himself and ask for forgiveness for his blatant insubordination. - Akutagawa in turn arrogantly doubles down on his decision. - Dazai punishes him.

While Dazai framed the moment at the end as a teaching moment with his comment about Akutagawas use of Rashomon, it is mostly a punishment. Yes there are 2 moments that can be seen as a teaching moment but what Dazai does is in fact nothing more than a punishment in his eyes.

(Giving Akutagawa the chance to think about his rash action was the first teaching moment btw)

Now the way the scene is handeled with it's framing tells us something interesting about the relationship between Dazai and Akutagawa.

Dazai actively favours Akutagawa with his treatment.

But how? It's a good question because the answer is very much hidden.

Both characters treat the situation as something usual. This in turn tells us that Akutagawa often commits insubordination against Dazai. And only Dazai, since Dazai takes him under his wing as his direct and only student. (This is made clear in the short where he actually recruits a younger Akutagawa) This means that Dazai does favour his student above other subordinates rather openly. We know he would not let this slide with other people under his command. The scene at the beginning of the Dark Era LN with Hirotsu shows this.

Akutagawa's reaction to being shot also tells us that this is the first time Dazai points a weapon at him. While not expecting, but accepting, the punch he did not expect to face a harsher punishment than this.

He is visibly surprised. But not just him.

In the Anime adaption (which is the best LN adaption in BSD) we see that even the other subordinates around them only become surprised when Dazai draws the gun and shoots Akutagawa.

Did Dazai think Akutagawa would survive being shot at? 100% yes. He even says as much after the fact.

(This is actually what makes teaching moment number 2, since he remarks that Akutagawa "finally" managed to protect himself with Rashomon. This tells us that they were actively training this and Akutagawa was failing at it for some time already.)

In short: - Akutagawa feels very much secure in his position at Dazai's side, despite the regular abuse. - Dazai favours Akutagawa openly enough within the PM that other subordinates are surprised when Akutagawa faces an openly harsh punishment. - Akutagawa, in committing insubordination, regulary disrespects Dazai as his superior and Dazai let's it slide. This is something that mirrors the relationship between Dazai and Mori, as Dazai does disrespect Mori in private and Mori let's this slide. (The biggest difference in this relationship mirror is that Dazai never disrespects Mori in front of other people.)

In my eyes (and I hope we learn more soon) this also shows that Dazai's abuse of Akutagawa has multiple reasons. - Dazai sees himself in Akutagawa. Dazai also hates himself and blames himself for shortcomings so he projects this onto Akutagawa, who he then abuses because of it. - A warped sense of care. In his own, very fucked up, way Dazai does care for Akutagawa. Is he good at showing it? Absolutely not. He wants Akutagawa to be stronger than Dazai himself is, he wants him to be better. So he favors him but also abuses him. - He favors Akutagawa so Akutagawa needs to get strong extremely fast to avoid a conflict within the ranks of the Mafia. - Dazai tries to get Akutagawa as strong as possible as fast as possible since Akutagawa effectively went from joining to third highest rank in 10 seconds and needs to prove himself in front of everyone else, not just Dazai's eyes. In this he ends up abusing Dazai because he himself is a child with a very limited understanding of teaching. What he does know, through Mori as his teacher, is that cruelty and abuse are effective teaching methods that work faster than proving patience and taking things slow.

(am I saying that Mori physically abused Dazai? No. But he, as shown in Beast and Fifteen, honestly answers to the questions his students ask him. It is entirely possible that he simply told Dazai different teaching methods and Dazai decided on the fastest one instead of the best and most effective.)

and thank you @sorcerersandskillusers for sending me the LN parts I mentioned above!! I didn't have the energy to look them up when I initially posted this and he did me the favor of getting them for me!

To summarize: The scene is a punishment for direct insubordination and shows us, the viewer, a deeper look into the relationship between Akutagawa and Dazai.

[silent-stories]

𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒

Pairing: Eddie x F!Reader

Summary: You visit Eddie at the hospital after the demobats incident.

Warnings: just fluff

You peeked into the dark hospital room with a smile on your face, trying to hide the horrible sensation you'd been feeling relentlessly for the previous few hours, waiting for a doctor or nurse to come out to tell you if Eddie was going to be okay. If he was still alive.

You were really scared that he could have died, that you would lose him and you never thought you could feel this way about someone you've known for so little time.

"Hey" You said walking into the room towards his bed. He was wearing one of those awful sort of dressing gowns that hospitals usually supplied, part of his face was covered in scratches and he had a tired expression drawn on his face. Even if you couldn't see it, you were sure that his torso and chest were covered in bloody bandages. "How are you feeling?"

Stupid question, maybe, but "I'm so glad you're alive I could cry right now" seemed too profound.

He looked smaller than usual, without his leather jacket and jeans with chains, more vulnerable without the clothes to helped him keep up the tough guy facade. Some people would say he looked less scary that way but Eddie never looked scary to you.

"Good enough for someone who almost died" he replied when his big brown eyes landed on you, an almost surprised expression painted on his face "You stayed."

"Of course I stayed" You said "we all stayed but then it got really late and the kids had to go home and they needed someone to drive them, so now Steve is also a chauffeur as well as a babysitter."

"Late? What time is it now?" He asked and you caught on to the fact that he had no idea how long it had been since he lost consciousness.

"It's almost four."

"In the morning?" he asked incredulously. You nodded.

"Jesus Christ Y/N, go home, please, I-"

"I haven't waited all these hours for you to send me home, Munson." You cut him off in a tone a little too harsh. You absolutely didn't want him to think he was a burden, you stayed because you wanted to be there for him. You had the impression that not many people were there for him, usually.

"Can I sit?" You asked then, softening a bit and pointing to the space next to him on the bed, he just nodded before silence fell between you.

You're sure at some point you let out a sigh of relief, after all that had happened you were grateful to know that Eddie was going to be okay and that everything was going to be fixed, somehow. Now that Hopper was back you were sure that if you and your friends explained the whole situation to him he would help you and be able to prove that Eddie was innocent.

"Can I ask you something?" he said after a few moments.

This time it was you who nodded.

"Why are you still here? I mean, you stayed even after everyone left, you're still covered in blood, you must be really tired and dying to sleep. So why did you stay?" He asked looking down, playing with the rings on his fingers.

You sighed. "We're friends. I care about you. I didn't want you to be alone when you woke up. After everything that's happened to you lately, you don't deserve to be alone. You didn’t even before."

He just looked at you like you were something weird or saying the craziest thing he's ever heard.

"We are friends." he muttered, repeating your words as if you had said nonsense.

"Of course we are." You tried to read his expression but you couldn't figure out where he was trying to say.

Didn't he want you to be friends or wasn't he used to people treating him like one? Had anyone even told him they were his friends? Did anyone ever tell him he wasn't a freak and didn't deserve even half of the bad things that had happened in his life? you find yourself thinking.

"Yeah, sure. I'm sorry. It's just that it's weird you know? A few days ago I never thought that a girl like you could even talk to someone like me and then everything happened and now you're here at tell me we're friends. It's weird, but it's- it's cool. Really. I'm glad you are here, Y/N." He finished the sentence with a chuckle.

You weren't exactly one of those considered "popular" at school, but certainly no one ever stopped you in the hallway to yell insults or you never found the words "freak" and "murderer" engraved on your locker.

Did Eddie really think you wouldn't be on his side just because he was considered one of the "outcasts"?

"No, you're right." You replied "I wouldn't talk to someone like you because there's no one else like you, Eddie. That's why I like you. The way people in Hawkins talk about you isn't fair. You are not mean or scary. You are not bad. Bad at school yes, but a bad person? No way. And you also almost died to save our asses."

He laughed and looked down. "It was metal though."

You couldn't help but smile and shake your head at his comment. "It was. But never try to do something like that ever again."

"Thanks Y/N." He added then.

"For what?"

"For everything. For being my friend. For staying."

You just nodded and reached out to grab his hand, his rings were a little cold against your skin, but you didn't really mind because as soon as you did that, a smile appeared on his lips.

Silence fell between you again -and probably also in all the rest of the hospital given the time- but it wasn't an awkward silence, it was calm, pleasant and somehow intimate.

The last thing you remember before sleep overtook you is Eddie's hand lazly playing with your fingers and yours drawing imaginary circles on the back of his.

"You think... that they're like together-together?" Mike asked Dustin the next day. Both were in front of the hospital bed, watching you and Eddie sleep next to each other. Eddie's arm was around you to hold you close to him, like he was afraid that if he didn't you'd disappear.

"Nah, they're just friends." Dustin answered with a note of doubt in his voice. He was a little mad at you for not calling to tell him Eddie was fine, but maybe now he understood why you didn’t. You and Eddie were like him and Suzie, just more disgusting.

"Mh, I'm not sure. Friends don't act like that, man."

[chaoticbardlady99]

Could you please do some comforting fic? Like, Tav is crying because of stress (or maybe a painful memory) and Astarion has to console her being an absolute emotional support vampire?

Dying Star (Astarion x GN! Reader)

Your wish is my command!

Synopsis: While exploring the Shadowlands, you run into Arabella and she asks you to find her parents. Unfortunately, you don’t have good news to deliver and Astarion tries to navigate your feelings with tips from Karlach.

Character Class- Cleric of Lliira

 (I’m really obsessed with this concept because I’m a Social Worker and I refer to myself as the “positivity police” so this is a character type I have grown fond of)

TW: Grief, Trauma, Parental loss, PTSD, Panic Attacks, mentions of violence and gore.

*I really like the nickname Little Love (I know it’s for Ascended only but…..) so I will be using it as a pet name that Astarion uses for the reader.

Companion song: Dying Star by Ashnikko (feat. Ethel Cain)

     It was supposed to be easy. You had an extra skip to your step as you headed in the direction Arabella told you her parents went. 

 Finally, you had thought, I can do something good for someone. I can reunite a family. No morally gray bullshit to navigate.

 You were grinning the whole way there despite your argument with Astarion before sending him with Arabella.

 “We don’t have time to go parent hunting.”

“There is always time to go parent hunting.”

  He had expressed his disdain about finding Arabella’s parents. He told you it’s a waste of time- they were probably dead anyway. Arabella had whimpered and teared up. That was enough for you to lose your patience and you ripped into him for saying "something so awful and in front of a CHILD, nonetheless!"

You sent him back with Arabella and Wyll, telling him that if he had no desire to search and rescue, he didn’t have to. He had looked hurt and insisted he go, that he needed to be there, but you were fed up and a little girl was crying.

Dejected, Astarion had gone back to camp. The guilt sat heavily at the bottom of your stomach, but you had a personal mission to complete and nothing was going to stop you.

  You were orphaned as a young child. The nightmares had gone away (for the most part), but you still remember your father dragging you away from your mother’s cold body as Loth Drows ambushed Silverymoon. They had had a whole army and their druids had control over giant creatures from the Underdark. You remember losing your father in the haze, an arrow to your back, running and slipping into a river. Then nothing. Until a nearby Cleric of Lliira (Leer-uh) had saved you, taking you to Selgaunt (SELL-GAUNT) on the coast of the Sea of Stars. Lliira had healed your heart and saved you- you hoped to pay that debt forward and help Arabella have a better outcome than you did. 

  No one in your party knew your past and you hadn’t brought it up to Astarion. It feels so long ago and it was a topic you preferred to bring up in a more hospitable place than the Shadowlands and after you help Astarion kill Cazador. You wanted to prioritize his joy and help him finally be free, so why would you burden him with your past while he is suffering far more from his?

 It didn’t take you and your party long to locate Arabella’s parents. You found them in the House of Healing- dead.  Along with your hope and joy. 

  You had erupted in a tearful rage and you stabbed the Sister who killed them over and over. 

  You didn’t care what the Joybringer would do if she saw how senselessly you mutilated the sisters and Malus. You had made them suffer as you saw fit. Mutilating them, using more painful methods of killing (stabbing in painful, but not lethal spots), and your crying came out as painful, angry screams. 

   Gale, Karlach, and Shadowheart eyed you with concern as you walked back to the camp. Usually you were singing or whistling a tune, cracking jokes to relieve the tension. 

Instead, you were focusing on how you would break the news to Arabella that her parents are dead and she is all alone. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

   Astarion paces around his tent, trying to distract himself from the pit of fear in his stomach. You had never snapped at him that way- usually you just roll your eyes at him and give him a chaste kiss with a soft, “I understand if you don’t want to go, but I would appreciate it if you would come along.” 

He wasn’t sure why Arabella and her parents had been a sensitive subject or why you had insisted on looking for them when they were likely already dead. No one survives the Shadow Cursed Lands without a light source and mediocre tactical skills.

That didn’t stop him from rooting for you though- he hopes he is wrong and that you come back victorious. He wants you to be happy. Astarion enjoys seeing you succeed because that’s when you flash that brilliant grin that he has (silently) adored since the moment he met you. The reason he protested in the first place is because he knows how destroyed you would be if Arabella’s parents are dead. He doesn’t want you to hurt- for your heart to lose it’s optimism. 

 He hears you, Karlach, Shadowheart, and Gale come into camp. He steps out of the tent- hoping that you were able to achieve the outcome you wanted, that you would come parading into camp victorious.

He sees you talking to Arabella in a quiet whisper and he watches as your face contorts to hold back your own feelings as Arabella screams at you. He watches you take it- as she punches you in the stomach over and over. You just let her before she runs off. Withers says something to you quietly before you walk into your tent, closing yourself off from everyone.

 Astarion feels stuck in the entryway of his tent. He doesn’t know what to do.

 “Hey fangs,” Karlach says, offering a sad smile as she walks up to him, “you should probably know- they went over the rails after seeing Arabella’s parents.”

A look of confusion spreads across his face. What does that even mean? You were barely capable of hurting a fly!

 “Like they became upset?”

  Karlach nods with weary eyes,“They became upset and… well very, very, very violent.”

    The tadpole behind his eyes begins to squirm as he allows Karlach to show him the scene.

He didn’t think you were capable of that much destruction.  He saw angry tears slide down your face as you destroyed everything in your path. His gentle, joyful Cleric had broken in the House of Healing.

How ironic, he thinks bitterly.

He feels his own tears begin to prick his eyes as he watches you suffer through the battle- screaming and crying. He should have been there for you. He should have gone and let you be mad at him for disobeying. He hangs his head and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“She really needs you Fangs,” Karlach says to him, interrupting his train of thought.

Of course Karlach would say that as if it was the easiest thing in the world- like he hadn't been tortured and unloved for the past two centuries.

“I don’t know how to be what she needs right now,” he says in a soft voice.

It was true. He had only just expressed his feelings for you and he barely felt confident doing that to begin with. He spent two centuries seducing and manipulating whoever he could to survive. How could he be what you need right now? When he is just as much of a monster as the individuals that killed Arabella’s parents?

  Karlach contemplates this, searching Astarion’s face as if the answer to all his problems would be there. 

  “You don’t need to do anything other than being there- tell them you are sorry. Tell them you were rooting for them because I saw it in your head. Tell them that they aren't alone,” Karlach pauses before saying, “And remind them that they are a good person- that Lliira wouldn’t abandon her in her suffering.”

Despite his fear and reluctance, he thanks Karlach for the advice and walks towards your tent. 

   ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

    Your body is shaking violently as your chest tightens and painful, silent sobs come out of your mouth. You are trying (and failing) to use your hand as a sound barrier.

It’s not about you, it’s about Arabella, you remind yourself, stop being so selfish. 

Except the images are back, you are small again, helpless again, alone, and afraid. Despite your effort, Arabella has been given the same fate and in the same breath, you turned away from your Goddess. You lost yourself in the fight, you were aware of this while it was happening. You just didn’t have it in you to care anymore. 

You hear footsteps approach your tent- you do the best to rub away the tears and snot.

 It’s not about you. 

You hear Astarion’s voice on the other side of the tent flap. 

 “Little love,” he says softly, “can I please come in?”

You laugh, your voice hoarse, “Come to tell me ‘I told you so?’ To gloat and laugh? If that is your intention, then no. You will need to wait one to five business days before you can do that.”

   You don’t hear him laugh at your humorous response as he usually does. He enters the tent and you feel him sit down behind you, his legs on either side of yours. He’s tense as he puts his arms around you from behind, pulling you in between his legs. He slowly relaxes against your body, putting his face in the crook of your neck. 

 “I’m sorry Little Love. I wanted to be wrong. I just knew how much it would… hurt you if the outcome wasn’t… well.”

 You sniff, choking back a sob as he begins drawing shapes on the back of your shaking hands. 

“It’s okay my love. You can let it out. I’m here for you. You aren’t alone.”

 Despite how clumsy and awkward it was said, that sentence alone broke whatever composure you still had. You cry and scream into your hand as Astarion holds onto you as if you are about to fly away and he is your anchor. Your breath is shallow and it’s hard to breathe as you suffocate on your grief and panic. You feel him ask for access to your mind, wanting to know how to help. So, you show him and you let all your grief pour into your cries. You feel his own tear mix with yours as he cries into your neck as he endures how you feel with you- as he watches your whole life fall apart because of one ambush over and over again.  

  He continues to trace patterns on your hands, asking you to focus on him and what he is doing, reminding you to breathe as you do for him when he is distressed.

  You begin to calm as you focus on his voice, focus on his delicate fingers tracing your skin, and for once, you don’t feel so alone. You scoot forward, gently removing his arms , and turn around to face him, your tearful eyes meeting his.

He grabs your face gently and kisses your forehead as silent tears roll down both of your faces. You look down at your hands before speaking.

“I thought… I thought I could help Arabella be reunited with her family,” you say in a gravely whisper, “I had hoped she wouldn’t be alone like I was, but now…”

  You suck in a harsh breath and look at your hands, “Gods, I am naive and stupid.”

 “No- you do not get to talk about my favorite person that way,” Astarion says sharply.

 You look up in surprise at the intensity of his words. He matches your eyes with a look of adoration, guilt, and a ferocity you have never seen before.

 “Little Love, you are not naive and you are not stupid,” He pauses, to kiss one of your hands and intertwines your fingers together, “you are so good without trying because that is who you are. You experienced hardship and you didn’t let it destroy you. You didn’t become a monster.”

 He looks at your face to gauge your reaction. You sit quietly, letting him continue to speak if he chooses so he does.

 “You… you are amazing and a bright light in the darkness. You are my moon, my compass, and you have shown me parts of myself I didn’t know existed,” he clears his throat before continuing.

 “ I hate to see you hurt, but I promise I will be here to help you through your suffering,” He stares into your eyes intensely, “for as long as you will have me.” 

  You pause, taking in everything he has just said to you. You felt like a star dying, exploding in the cosmos. You feel evil and wrong for the violence you inflicted on the Sisters and Malus in your need for revenge. Your actions were not of Lliira's will.

 “I don’t know if that’s who I am anymore, Star. I engaged in senseless violence… I don’t think Lliira will forgive me- and if she does, it won’t be easy to obtain her forgiveness,” you say glumly. 

 He grabs your other hand in his and offers a soft smile. 

“Then we will work together to get you back into favor with your Goddess and I will remind you everyday who you are until you believe in yourself again,” he says before leaving a chaste kiss on your lips.

You smile despite yourself, your chest glowing with warmth as you stare into his eyes. You know Astarion detests the Gods, but the fact that he was willing to help you made your eyes tear up again. You are horribly desperately in love with him and as much as you want to tell him that, you practice restraint. There is a time and place- that time is not now, not when the relationship just began.

 “And what if I need it everyday for the rest of your Immortal life?” You say half-joking and half-afraid of his answer.

 A wide, genuine grin spreads across Astarion’s face as your words register in his mind. 

They want me to stay. They want me to be by their side-even when this is all done.

    Astarion pulls you into his lap, your legs straddling his hips as he pulls you into him and presses a soft kiss against your neck before laying his head on your shoulder. 

“Then I will stay by your side. Forever.”

[post-apocalyptic-fantasy-au]

Tango started sneezing about twenty minutes after leaving the lab. By the time they reached the city's outskirts, six hours later, he was a sniffling mess, eyes burning and nose running, throat tight. Every part of his skin not covered in scales was covered in rashes. On top of that, his legs felt like jelly, there was a sharp pain tearing his sides open, every step hurt his feet and his lungs felt like they were on fire.

"Maybe we should stop for a bit," Torchy suggested, concerned. The little dragon was flying around Tango's head since his touch irritated Tango's skin even more.

"We should... get somewhere less... open... first." Tango was gasping, every breath a struggle.

But he refused to stop. It was just allergies and a lack of exercise, it would all calm down once his body got used to being outside the lab's sterile walls. The best thing to do was to keep pushing, keep, walking, force his body to adapt. He would survive allergies, he would survive being unfit. He wasn't sure he would survive what wandered around out here, beyond the city limits, where laws barely applied and civilisation ended.

Sometimes, when the scientists in the lab worked late, they'd come into Tango's room at night and he'd light a little fire in the middle and they'd sit around telling scary stories. He was told it was a human tradition older than time. Far too often, those stories included werewolves who refused to abide by the palace's laws, vampires who were so consumed by their bloodlust they'd lost all their humanity, human-born sirens who had forsaken community in favour of luring travellers away from their paths.

Cub had once sworn up and down that a garden faerie had tried to gouge out his eyes, killing every plant in a ten-foot radius in the process, and to this day he still didn't know how he'd escaped intact.

Doc had then scoffed and claimed it was all hearsay, but the tale had stuck with Tango. He was rather fond of his eyes, and preferred not to risk losing them.

"I can keep going," he said to Torchy. "I can... I'll be fine."

They had barely walked another hour before Tango was forced to stop by his feet - which were dragging on the floor - hooking on a rock, sending him plummetting with a yelp.

"Tango!" Torchy gasped, swooping down to join him on the ground.

"I'm- I'm fine," Tango assured him, running a hand across Torchy's scales. "I'm fine."

Tango allowed himself twenty seconds of rest - he counted each one - before pushing himself back to his feet.

"Just a little further," he told himself.

He could see a small copse of trees in the distance. If he could just make it that far, he'd be fine. It was close. Just a little further.

When, after a few seconds, it became clear his feet weren't moving any time soon, he sighed and sank into a crouch, absently itching his arm.

"I'm fine," he whispered, staring at the trees, like repeating it will make it true.

He shook his head, shaking that thought out of it. He was fine. This was just a normal bodily reaction, and it would pass. It wasn't like he was dying or anything. He was fine. He just needed a few more seconds to rest. Then he'd be able to command his legs to move again, and he could keep going.

He was fine.

That was when he heard the voice: "Hello! What do we have here?"

Tango leapt to his feet, twisting around and staggering back and falling onto his butt as he yelled, "Hagagah!"

Hovering in front of him was a garden faerie with pink hair and eyes, and a dress made out of a brown leaf that seemed to be clinging to life by the fingertips - leaftips? The creature was a little more than three inches tall, his hair short and messy.

"What're you doing all the way out here?" he asked, flying a little closer to Tango's face.

Tango squeaked. "Please don't steal my eyes!"

"Steal your eyes?" the faerie chuckled. "Why would I do that?"

"I don't know!"

The creature laughed again. "I'm Zedaph. What are you?" He spoke the question slowly, drawing out each word.

"Don't you mean who?" Tango couldn't help but ask.

"Nope!" Zedaph flew a few laps around Tango, faster than he could follow. "I've never seen anything like you before!"

"I'm Tango."

"RIght. Aaand, what's a Tango?"

"Well, me, obviously!"

"Right! Of course, why didn't I think of that?" He was laughing again.

Zedaph's voice was strange, quiet and high-pitched and buzzy, and he spoke English like his mouth wasn't meant to ever have any of these sounds in it. And yet, every single sound came out clear and amost easy. Sure, he spoke slowly, drawing out most of his words, but he never faltered and stuttered, only paused and hesitated now and then.

"And this is-" Tango paused to sneeze. "-Torchy."

Torchy landed on Tango's head, peering at Zedaph through the flames. Zedaph grinnged at the little dragon.

"Very nice to meet ya, Torchy!"

"Of course it is," Torchy muttered, getting comfortable on his perch.

Zedaph's grin faded and his tiny features twisted into a frown as he looked at Tango.

"Hey, you don't look too good," he noted.

"I'm fine," Tango insisted again. Then immediately was wracked by a sneezing and coughing fit, barely managing to find time in between to breathe. When he emerged, his throat hurt more than ever, his eyes itched like they were full of powder and his chest burned. He leaned over his knees, which were pressed against his chest, and panted for breath.

"Yes, I can see that." Even when he was concerned, his voice seemed to carry a laugh, like he couldn't help but find a joke in every detail. "Hey, I think I know something that could help!"

And, before Tango could say a word, the little faerie flew off.

"Well, that was... weird," Tango said to Torchy, who merely grumbled. He'd been thrown off Tango's head during the coughing fit, and was instead curling up on the rock that had sent Tango crashing to the ground minutes ago. Tango poked him. "Don't get too - ACHOO - comfortable. We need to get moving again. Just cause this faerie didn't steal our eyes, doesn't mean the next one won't."

"He's fetching something!" Torchy protested, like he was settling down for any reason that wasn't bedtime. "We should wait for him!"

"He's probably fetching a swarm to pick us apart piece by piece. We can't just hang around here." He glanced up at the trees. They just had to make it to there.

"Just a little further," Tango pleaded.

"Give me ten minutes," Torchy insisted. Seconds later, he was fast asleep.

"Oh you-" Tango reached out to grab the dragon by his tail to shake him awake, but was interrupted by Zedaph's voice.

"Here we are!"

Tango looked up to see the faerie flying over, his wings struggling to lift both his own body weight, and the small glass vial he was clinging to.

The vial was a good inch taller than Zedaph, and filled with a dark purple liquid. Tango didn't know where he'd gotten it, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"What's this?" he asked instead, holding out a hand to let Zedaph drop the vial and land, giving his poor wings a rest.

"Medicine!" Zedaph looked proud of himself. "It should fix you right up!"

Tango frowned, looking at the liquid sceptically. "You want me to... drink it."

"No, I want you to pour it on your toes. Yes, I want you to drink it!"

Tango sighed, lifting the vial with his other hand so that Zedaph could stay where he was. He sniffed the medicine. It smelled... bad. Fake. Human.

He sighed. What did he have to lose, at this point? After only a second's hesitation, he downed the whole thing in one gulp, trying to get it out of his mouth as quickly as possible. Zedaph flew off his hand as his entire body jerked involuntarily at the taste of the stuff.

It tasted, somehow, even worse than it smelled. Like every piece of artificial food he'd been given over the centuries rolled into one disgusting mixture. Tango shuddered and hurried to pull a flask of water from his bag to wash away the taste, first rinsing his mouth and spitting out the water, than swallowing to clear his throat, as well.

"It's not that bad!" Zedaph protested in that strange, laughing voice of his.

"It definitely is that bad." Tango coughed. He didn't feel remotely different, better or otherwise. If anything, the swallowing had made his sore throat worse. "And it didn't even work!"

"Well, give it time!"

Tango huffed and started trying to get up again, but Zedaph flew right into his face.

"No, no, stay down until it kicks in!"

"I need to keep moving."

"We can keep moving in about twenty minutes. You might fall again if you get up now."

"I'll be fine."

"Tango."

Tango sighed. Closed his eyes. Took a deep breath that was sliced to pieces by another coughing fit. Wiped his runny nose. And leaned back onto his elbows.

Zedaph stayed with him, chatting away about something Tango paid no mind to. He was too busy trying to breath without coughing his guts up to listen to a word that was said.

Until finally, slowly, the pain lessened. His throat opened up entirely, all pain vanishing, and his nose dried up and stopped running. When he breathed, it was without the constant scratching he'd been dealing with all day, and he didn't even nearly cough.

Tango let out a jubilant, incredulous laugh. It had worked! It had really worked!

"That sounds promising." Zedaph flew back up to his face. "Feeling better?"

"Loads. How did you do that?"

"Secrets of the trade, my friend."

When Tango stood up, the only shakiness came from the exhaustion of walking for a full day. When he crouched down to wake Torchy, he didn't nearly collapse at all. Somehow, in twenty minutes, Zedaph had fixed him completely.

The faerie accompanied them when they started moving again, Torchy flapping along sleepily beside Tango's head.

The excitement was short-lived, however, because halfway to the trees, without any change in the weather, Tango was suddenly freezing. With shivering hands, he grabbed the coat that was still draped over the bag and pulled it on. Both Torchy and Zedaph watched him, confused.

Torchy settled on Tango's head, leaning forward so his face was upside down in Tango's vision. "Tango?"

Dragon's weren't built to be cold, and Tango was no exception. He could feel himself weakening by the second.

Zedaph went to land on Tango's hand, but quickly shot back up into the air.

"Holy moly! You're boiling!"

"N- no?" Tango frowned. "I'm freezing! Hence the coat, genius!"

He just had to make it to the trees. He could collapse there, when he wasn't so in the open. Just a little further.

"Maybe you should sit down," Zedaph suggested.

Tango shook his head, then stumbled, losing his balance. The whole world had tipped, leaning wildly to the right for a second.

"Maybe you should listen," Torchy told him, his claws clinging into Tango's scalp to stay on. He was still upside down.

"Just a little further," Tango muttered, his words slurring together. "Juss a lil-"

A figure appeared at the treeline, all the wrong shapes and sizes, built all wrong. It seemed to watch them, though it was impossible to tell properly from so far.

Zedaph spotted the figure at the same time as Tango, announced, "I'll go get help!" then zipped off at top speed towards the figure.

Tango took one step after him, then another, then went careening wildly forwards, just barely catching himself before he splatted. Torchy shrieked as he was flung off Tango's head, flinging out his wings to stay in the air.

Just a little further.

The next step had him falling to his knees. The world was still dancing circles around him, and now its corners were fading away to blackness.

He struggled to get back to his feet, but the best he could do was one foot before falling to the side as the world gave another sickening jolt. He stomach turned, and he leaned over and emptied its meagre contents onto the ground.

He was vaguely aware of someone calling his name, then two someones, as his vision faded completley to black.

The last thing he heard was a feminine voice gasping, "I'm sorey I took so long!"

Then everything stopped.

[lilisette]

Masks Under the Chandelier | Caleb/Reader

About: A fic idea wherein you and Caleb meet months later in a gala. To you, this person is a stranger you just met. But to this person, you were more than that...

Pairing: Caleb/Reader

Notes: Might actually write this tbh... Caleb is my favorite ngl hahaha...

Warnings: Spoilers for Chapter 4! Please do not read if you haven't read it yet!

Imagine there is a gala or some high class event where you have to attend, perhaps as part of the event's security detail. With all the Metafluxes and Wanderers going about, it's important that the organizers call a few hunters to protect them from harm. But them going in uniform will no doubt alert the guests so you have to go undercover and dress up in a formal party outfit, a gown or whatever you wish to wear.

And by chance, because of all the important people there, the organization that kidnapped Caleb (since he is not dead idc what the game says) is invited to attend too. So they send Caleb, undercover of course, to attend.

Caleb donned a new persona, dyed his hair, wear contacts and all to ensure no one would recognize him. He attends and lo and behold, he bumps into you while wandering the event hall.

While Caleb has a new persona, his voice is still unchanged and when Caleb, in shock, whispers your nickname, cause- wow you looks amazing-, you turn toward him in shock and-

"Pipsqueak?" "Caleb?" "I-" Caleb almost responded to your call, but quickly remembered that he isn't Caleb now... He could never be anymore. "Sorry miss...?" The hope that was evident in your eyes dimmed, and his heart broken all over again when your eyes softened, a sad smile gracing your face. "I'm sorry, I thought... I thought you were someone I knew for a moment." You said, the distance between you and him so close, yet so far. There was an invisible wall between you and him now, and he hated it.

You and him talk for a bit, about why you both were there. Caleb keeps getting distracted by you because he has never seen you like this before, dolled up and oh so beautiful under the crystal chandeliers. There were many times where he almost slipped up and mention something that only the both of you know, but he caught himself. And god does he hate it. He's your best friend from childhood dammit (yes zayne exists but he likes to think you prefer him over zayne), why can't he...

Why can't he be close to you anymore?

It's ironic, Caleb thought, that you were telling him, a stranger, things that he as Caleb never knew. He asked you about who you have mistaken him for, and the answer shook him to his core.

"My childhood friend. He is... well, was, my best friend." You say wistfully, staring off into the crowd and imagining what would it be like if he was still here with you. He was about to make another comment, but stopped when you opened you mouth to continue. "And perhaps... If he was still around... We would've been something much more than that." The guilt and sadness that pierced through him then was so overwhelming it almost made him kneel. And yet, like a glutton for punishment, he asked. "You think you two would've been lovers?" "Not without us being honest with each other for once. But eventually... Yes."

You two talk for a bit more until you both feel a spike in the air, your watch that was disguised as a bracelet alerting you to wanderers in the area. You tell him to not alert everywhere because it will incite panic, and made your exit.

Unbeknownst to you, he trails after you, just like the time before the whole explosion happened. He watches you take down the wanderers with ease but then he sees a wanderer spawning just behind you, and without second thought, he uses his own evol to fling the wanderer away.

But before you could turn to see who it was who saved you, he hides behind cover. And before you could approach the spot, the wanderer stands up again, giving him ample time to slip away.

He watches you return to your post afterwards, and when you spot him again, he asks you whether you're okay and-

"Yes I am, thank you for your concern. Though..." You trailed off, your mind still stuck on the mystery of who saved you back there. "Is there something wrong?" "No! No. I just... No, it's nothing, probably just my imagination." You said, looking away and into the crowd of guests who were unaware of the Wanderer sighting, missing the look of guilt that was plastered all over his face.

Caleb, even under a different persona, was constantly worried about you. He waited for you to report to captain Jenna and escorted you home after the whole event. Before opening the door to your apartment however, you turned towards him.

"You don't have to do this, you know." "I insist." He expected you to open the door and leave, and you two will never see each other again, but instead, you looked towards him and smiled. "I thought about what you said. I think... I think you're right. I should start moving on." You said, and before he could ask why you were telling him this, you handed him your phone. "If it's alright, can we exchange numbers?"

Caleb knew he shouldn't do this. The organization specifically said that he was not to contact you at all costs. But well, Caleb reasoned with himself, they didn't say he cannot contact you while under a new persona. So he gave you his number as well.

The moment you entered your apartment and him in the elevator, he leaned against the wall and sighed.

What the fuck did he just get himself into?

[luxeavenger]

Shark

Kinktober prompt: Overstimulation

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Backstage pass!Natasha x reader

Warnings: Overstimulation, vaginal fingering, oral sex, top Natasha

Words: 1055

If you like it, please give it a reblog! I've been away for awhile, and I think a lot of people forgot about me.

Kinktober Masterlist | Backstage Pass Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-fi

The redhead’s muscular shoulders block the light when she hovers over you. Her wide, lipstick-smeared grin is intimidating the way a shark's grin is intimidating.

And apprehension curls through your gut, just as it would if it were a shark grinning back at you right now.

You whimper as her fingers ease out of your pussy, just to be pushed into your mouth. You tongue the taste of you off her digits. They’re pruny, because they’ve been inside of your dripping cunt for the better part of the evening.

“Be a good girl, and clean ‘em for me, sugar,” she commands in her rough, sultry voice.

Each time she praises you, chills scatter over your too-hot flesh. It makes you eager to please her, and you know you’d do anything she asked of you just to receive more of it.

Natasha’s naked skin is so pale it nearly glows everywhere it peeks from behind the tattoos cluttering her naked body. She’s singularly the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen, and you felt unbelievably lucky when she picked you up after your bartending shift ended.

Now? You’re pretty sure if it were possible to die from being overwhelmed by orgasms, this is the woman they’d send to do the job.

Her chin is shiny with your juices when she looks down at you. Hoping for a break, time for your body to relax for a bit, you ask, “May I please eat your pussy now, ma’am?” Her fingers are still in your mouth, so the words come out garbled.

She pulls them out and you repeat your question.

She grins again, and you’re foolish enough to think she’s going to let you do what you asked.

Instead, she takes the fingers still slick with your spit and pushes them back inside of you. The squelch when she pushes into your cunt is obscene, and you blush, heat rushing over your body like slow-spreading flames.

With a low chuckle she says, “Oh, sugar. I’m not nearly done with you yet.” Her fingers rub against your g-spot, and you mewl. “When you’ve come so much—once you’re so sensitive you can’t even stand the touch of fresh fucking air on your needy little clit—that’s when I’ll let you eat my pussy.”

Then, just to tease you, she curls her middle and ring finger into her cunt—the cunt you’re dying for a taste of—with a moan, and you whine pitifully.

She leans over to whisper in your ear, “Seeing you squirm and cry for me has got me so fucking wet, sugar. I can’t wait to sit on this pretty little face.” She wraps the hand she was just using to toy with herself around your jaw to gently shake your head back and forth. Her fingers are sticky with her slick, and it leaves a streak of her arousal across your cheek.

“Ma’am, please. I can’t anymore. It hurts.” You know you’re whining, but you have no idea how to stop. She’s made you come more times than you can count. And, well, you know she’s not going to stop, so you might as well beg anyway.

“Now, now, sugar,” Natasha purrs, “we both know you fucking can, and I promise you that you absolutely fucking will come again, if I have to use my fucking fist to yank an orgasm out of you.”

“Ma’am–” you try to make another appeal to her. You try to come up with something coherent. Some words to tell her you’re too sore, too tired, too something, but instead, “–oh, fuck.”

Making you feel like you don’t even know your own body anymore, your traitorous pussy gushes slick over Natasha’s fingers, and your muscles strain as your back bows. The gorgeous woman purrs silky praise at you, that sends butterflies swarming through your stomach.

“Look at you sugar,” she beams at you, her angel bites glitter in the light when she licks her lips like a cat. “So beautiful when you come for me. I knew you could do it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you sigh deliriously, drunk off her attention.

She slowly descends your body, nibbling her way down, her perfect mouth leaving a trail of bruises in her wake. Her green eyes stay trained on your face when she slurps at your clit. Your hips rise off of the mattress, and she throws a deceptively strong arm over you to keep you in place. Your body already feels like one raw nerve ending, and she keeps plucking at that tight, strained feeling inside of you like it’s a guitar string she intends to play until it breaks.

Her persistent fingers on your g-spot pull a messy, squirting orgasm out of you, soaking Natasha’s chin and hand again. She laps at you like she’s starving, and you’re her only source of sustenance.

Your thighs are visibly trembling, and Nat smooths a hand down your flank. She coos, “Such a good girl for me. So fucking good. You came so fucking hard for me. It was fucking beautiful.”

Her tattooed fingertips make swirling patterns over your sides until your thighs are done shaking. She runs a knuckle up your slit, smiling lazily when your hips jerk reflexively at the lightest graze of your clit.

“Mmm, baby girl,” she hums, “look at you. So sensitive. I think you’re there. I think you’re right fucking there, sugar.”

She blows gently at your mound to cool your heated skin, then spreads you open with her thumbs. Then a quick puff of air hits your clit, and a bolt of electricity zings up your body. Your entire body jerks, and you mewl pitifully, “Please, no more, ma’am. No more. I can’t. I can’t. I really, really can’t. Don’t make me.”

She abandons the space between your thighs, and straddles your body. Silver tear tracks on your cheeks are wiped away by her thumbs, and you hiccup a sob at the gentle gesture.

Her voice is rough, and syrupy sweet when she soothes, “Shh. That part’s all done for now, sweet girl. You were so good for me.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” you sigh dreamily.

The too-sharp grin is back now. “You’re not nearly done, sugar. So don’t thank me yet,” she wryly remarks, grabbing a handful of your hair as she lowers herself over your face.

Everyone who reblogs gets my undying, and eternal love. No, really. xoxo

[stalkedbytrains]

“Cheryl? Where is the file for the next appointment? I can’t find it anywhere.”

“It’s the folder with the green tab,” Cheryl called from her desk at the front of the tiny office.

There was the sound of many papers shuffling around and finally an “aha!”

“The Rainbow Snake?” Came the voice from the office. Cheryl’s boss often read out loud when they were studying a client. Just a weird quirk of theirs. “Australian Aboriginal Deity. Oh I do remember them. We were at a party together… 2,000 years ago give or take. I don’t think they’ll remember me, ah well thems the breaks. Let’s see… hmm… I can see that this is going to be a problem Cheryl. Damn colonialists. I wish we could make the British gods fade away. Fucking King Arthur deserves to be relegated to the dust bin. I can tell that we’re going to need some deep cuts on this one. Start making a list of Australians we can contact, I have a feeling.”

Cheryl did as she was told. Her boss was almost always right about these things. She knew what the gods wanted before they even got here.

Several minutes later there was a knock at the office door. Cheryl got up to open it and invited in the dark skinned person and the beautiful snake they wore like jewelry but that might have only been because the snake itself was a living work of art. Like living breathing stained glass.

As Cheryl escorted the Rainbow Snake in, her boss came out and bowed deeply to their guest.

The chipper woman had tied back her full brown hair and smiled widely at the Snake and their human escort.

“A pleasure to meet you again,” the boss said, “it’s been many centuries but I am glad to see you once more. Please come in to my office. Would you care for any refreshments?”

After settling and getting water for the Rainbow Snake, Cheryl sat back down outside the office and listened to the pitch. She never got tired of listening to it.

“How can I help you?” Her boss asked.

“We heard that you can help us gods. Stop us from fading. We need faith. We need followers. The people are dying, the language is dying,” said a dual voice. The voice from the snake, and the voice from the human.

“We can do that. Sort of. I am sorry to say that it’s not a direct thing. I don’t just snap my fingers and make you some new believers. Human beings a wonderful little creatures. They crave us. They need us even if they don’t believe in us anymore. They want our stories and our myths. And that is what I provide. Stories.”

“How does that help us?”

“Do you know how down bad the Norse were? The Christian’s basically destroyed their religion, all we know of it is this bastard version of what was left after the Jesus freaks invaded. But then the comics happened. The Mighty Thor! And don’t get me started on Neil Gaiman and his Sandman and American Gods stories. I send that man a fruit basket every year. I love him. Have you seen how well the Norse pantheon is doing? Loki has seventeen penthouses, and more belief than he knows what to do with.”

“Bah. Western religion. White religion.”

“You are right. I am sorry that was a poor example. Perhaps I should have started with Māui and how well he’s doing with that Disney film Moana. I set that up.”

“You did all of that?”

“Well. Not directly. You know how us gods work. I gave some inspiration here and there. Got a writer to have an idea. Got a director and a bunch of executives to see the bigger picture and how it could be a hit. They did the rest themselves. Like I said, whether or not they know it, humans want us.”

“You can make me a hit movie?”

“Or a TV show or a video game. Those are hard though. Movies are kind of easy now a days, TV is having a resurgence now but you run the risk of cancelation and things like that, video games can be hit or miss honestly. Only the Greeks and Norse really pulled that one off and hoo let me tell you they paid for that one. Great games but still. I don’t want to look at those God of War games ever again. Books are easy. Worked really well for the Greeks and some of the Egyptians. Rick Riordan does great stuff. It all depends on what you want.”

“I can have anything?”

“Sure. Internet stories are easy. Quick and cheap but you are really gambling with the payoff. Could be either a total wash or go viral. Not something I can really recommend but if you need something now it can be done. Movies or tv can be great but there are also risks. It might be two or three years before you see anything.”

“Do I get to choose who does the work?”

“A little. I can influence certain people but sometimes the best person for the job is some down on his luck writer in a hovel in LA. Sometimes it’s Neil. But Neil is expensive.”

“I want a movie, I want it to be written by one of my people.”

“I can do that. But the problem is that reach might be very tiny. There are plenty of Aboriginal writers, I’m sure some can even be extremely talented, but something big and grand and bringing in all the faith and worship and stories you may way may be limited. If you want the Disney treatment you have to give up a whole lot of control.”

“No. I want it to be of the people.”

“Very well. Now, I can influence and give inspiration all over. I can even get this in the right people’s hands. But it is always a crap shoot. All I need to do is channel some of your power into the right person when I find it. Then creativity takes over, they do their work, I nudge some agents and companies their way and if we’re lucky you see some return on investment in a couple of years.”

“What do you get out of this process?”

“My dear, I’m the Muse. I feed off the creativity. These artists come to me most of the time. I just set them up with gods who need a little faith. And six points on the back end. I have a lot of alimony to pay.”