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bytemee · 2 months ago

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SUPER RICH KIDS — yu jimin.

"super rich kids with nothin' but loose ends."

synopsis. stuck on a miserable family vacation with the same rich elites you’ve spent your whole life trying to escape, you somehow become karina’s new favorite distraction—whether as her escape or just her latest source of entertainment. either way, trouble seems to follow wherever she goes, and you’re starting to wonder if getting caught up in it is a mistake… or exactly what you need.

pairing. rich!girlkarina x rich!girl!reader

warning(s). language, dysfunctional family (they're rich vro), drinking, impulsive/reckless behavior, kissing (OH EM GEE.), and let me know if there's more.

words. 3.4k

authors note. i got a lot of reqs to work on, but chat...im actually gonna go ghost for a bit...wanted to feed u before i left. NOT FOR LONG JUST A BIT.

masterlist. navigation.

the night had started with forced smiles and expensive wine.

a business dinner, your father called it—an important meeting with the yu family about a potential merger, partnership, or investment—something that only mattered to men who measured their worth in profit margins. you were there for appearances, another polished accessory at the table, sitting pretty in an outfit that cost too much and shoes that made your feet ache.

karina yu, seated across from you, was similarly dressed up and looked just as uncomfortable. she was a year younger than you and, like you, was being trained to follow in her father's footsteps. the yu heir, your father liked to say.

"so polite." your mother would smile. "a proper young lady."

and she was. always so obedient, so docile. her eyes lingered on you a little too long every time you refilled your glass, every time you made a face at the bitter taste of wine, every time you raised your arm to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand—the way a boy would.

somewhere between dessert and your father's third whiskey, he made a comment. something about the way you dressed, the way you ate, the way you spoke. the words came out slurred, and your mother didn't say anything, but karina's eyes met yours in a flash of pity. you weren’t even sure what you said back. maybe you laughed. maybe you just took another sip. either way, by the time the dinner ended, you were in the midst of an argument, your father's face flushed with anger, your mother's lips drawn tight with disapproval.

"fuck you!" you'd spat, legs moving of their own accord. "you're such a fucking bastard!"

and then you saw it.

your father’s porsche, gleaming under the valet lights, parked at the front like a monument to his self-importance.

before you could think twice, you were slipping off your shoes and hurling one at the windshield. the crack of impact was louder than you expected, and you watched in a daze as a spiderweb of fissures spread across the glass.

“have you lost your mind?”

you went around the car, popping open the trunk before grabbing one of his sleek golf clubs and bringing it down over the hood; the first hit dented the hood. the second left a long, jagged scratch across the side. the third—

"stop! are you crazy?" your mother yelled.

you barely spared her a glance, breathless as you adjusted your sunglasses, heart pounding in your ears as you brought the club down again and again, watching as the car crumpled under the force of each blow. and when you finally ran out of breath, you looked up and saw the doorman staring. your mother, too, her face pale and expressionless. even your father, still standing by the front door, hadn't moved.

even the yu parents watched with thinly veiled horror.

and then there was karina.

standing just a few feet away, hands clasped in front of her, head tilted ever so slightly as the faintest ghost of a smirk curled at the corner of her lips.

three years later, you weren’t supposed to still think about that night.

but the problem with rich people was that they never let anything die. your father’s car had been replaced by the end of the week, the dinner party swept under the rug, your behavior excused as a rough patch in polite conversation. still, the whispers followed you through every gala, every charity event, every hushed conversation between wives who sipped champagne and smiled like they weren’t enjoying the gossip.

and unfortunately, karina's family, along with others, joined you on this godforsaken vacation, this trip of torture and misery. this was a chance for your parents to play recruiter, and they weren't the only ones.

you try to avoid her. really, you do.

you sit at opposite ends of the dinner table, sip champagne like it might actually make this tolerable, and politely nod at conversations about stock portfolios and summer homes in monaco. but the whole time, her gaze is like a brand. you can feel her eyes on you, burning a hole right through the back of your skull.

"she's still staring," you murmur at some point, leaning into your best friend's ear.

"who is?" he whispers back, turning his head ever so slightly to glance around the room.

you sigh and look back down at your plate, idly playing with the food on your plate. you're not hungry. you haven't been hungry for the last three days. it's a wonder you've managed to keep any of it down. "karina," you say. "she keeps—"

"karina?"

"yes," you hiss. "karina yu. has been staring at me nonstop for the past twenty minutes."

he pauses and looks at you, his eyes widening in understanding.

"oh, right," he says, and then his gaze shifts to your left, and he raises a hand in greeting. "hey," he says, and when you glance up, you see her waving back.

you groan inwardly, and she must hear because the next moment, her gaze is on you again. you meet her stare and watch as she raises her wineglass in a small toast. "she's pretty," your best friend says.

you roll your eyes and look away. "i guess," you say.

she’s trouble, is what you really mean.

but you don’t say it, because then you’d have to explain. you’d have to explain the way she had stood there that night, watching you rip your father’s car apart like it was performance art, the way her lips had curled in approval.

you shift in your seat and pretend like the weight of her gaze doesn’t make your skin prickle. your best friend, ever oblivious, keeps sipping his champagne.

and then—she slides into the seat next to you.

she smells like jasmine, and her hair brushes against your cheek as she leans over to whisper in your ear. "you’re not even pretending to have fun," she says. when you turn your head, karina is right there, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she smiles at you.

you swallow thickly.

“i didn’t know i was supposed to be entertaining anyone,” you say.

she tilts her head. “that’s the thing about you. you always end up putting on a show anyway.”

your grip tightens around your fork. “what do you want?”

her lips press together like she’s holding back a laugh. “a little company.”

“i’m busy.”

“with what?”

you blink at her.

and karina smiles sweetly, cocking her head to one side. her hair spills over her shoulder in a glossy wave, and she tilts her chin up, just a little, her eyes dancing with challenge. she looks good like this—all sharp angles and smooth lines, her clothes tailored to perfection, accentuating every curve. you hate that you notice.

she licks her lips, and your stomach flips.

and just like that, you stupidly take the bait.

“fine,” you say, setting your napkin down with a sharp flick. “where are we going?”

karina grins, like she’s just won something.

the next thing you know, you’re in the driver's seat of some random convertible, the engine purring underneath you. it's not hers; it's yours, and it's not either of your parents’ because you both stole it from the hotel parking lot.

“you’re going to get us killed,” karina says, but she’s laughing, wind whipping through her hair as you speed down an empty road. you shoot her a grin, one hand on the wheel, the other adjusting the radio until it lands on some old r&b song you barely remember.

“wouldn’t be the worst way to go,” you muse. “at least the headlines would be fun.”

she gasps, clutching her chest in mock horror. “tragic demise of two rich idiots—local community breathes sigh of relief.”

you bark out a laugh, the sound cutting through the wind, and you feel a sharp pang of relief when karina grins back, wide enough to show teeth. you almost miss the turn for the beach, and she yelps as you swerve onto a side street, tires squealing against the pavement. it's late, well past midnight, and the roads are deserted. you can't hear anything over the roar of the engine.

it's electrifying.

"this is the stupidest thing i've ever done," she says breathlessly, and you throw back your head and laugh.

"isn't it?" you say. "and we're only getting started."

karina grins, white teeth flashing in the dark, and then you're driving down the coastline, music blaring, windows rolled all the way down. the ocean air fills your lungs, and you feel lighter than you have in weeks, months—years, maybe.

the beach is empty when you finally pull up, the sand stretching out under the moonlight, waves crashing in the distance. you kill the engine, and the two of you sit there in silence for a moment, listening to the sound of the wind, the water, and your own breathing.

karina shifts beside you, tilting her head as she looks out toward the water. “it’s pretty,” she says, her voice soft.

you follow her gaze, watching as the waves roll in, cresting against the shore, leaving foamy trails in their wake. you nod absently.

"yeah."

you clear your throat and reach for the door handle. “come on.”

she follows without question, slipping off her heels as soon as her feet hit the sand. you do the same, relishing the way the cool grains shift beneath your toes. it feels good after being cooped up all day, stuck in stuffy rooms full of people you couldn’t care less about.

karina inhales sharply.

you turn to look at her, and she laughs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she walks past you toward the ocean. the breeze catches her dress, making it ripple around her hips, and you follow without thinking, drawn to her like a moth to flame.

karina takes a deep breath, then exhales long and slow. “god,” she mutters, rubbing a hand over her face. “i needed this.”

you smirk. “the break from pretending to be the perfect daughter?”

she huffs out a laugh, but there’s something wry in her smile. “something like that.”

there's an awkward pause where neither of you speaks. karina stares out at the ocean, and you stare at her, watching as her eyes grow distant and thoughtful.

“what are you thinking about?” you ask.

she hesitates, then glances at you. “that night.”

you don’t have to ask which one.

“ah,” you say, stretching your arms overhead. “and here i thought we were avoiding the past.”

“i think about it sometimes,” she admits. “the way you just did it. no second-guessing, no hesitation. you just let it all out.”

you scoff, kicking at the sand. “and look where it got me. my dad replaced the car, my mom pretended it never happened, and i’m still stuck in the same stupid cycle.” you shake your head and run a hand through your hair. "all i did was make things worse."

karina turns to look at you, her eyes sharp as she studies you.

"but you felt better afterward, didn't you?" she asks softly.

you glance away, chewing on your bottom lip as you consider the question. you did feel better. for a while, anyway. but the feeling faded quickly enough. your parents were pissed, and they made sure to remind you how disappointed they were and how embarrassing it was to have their daughter act like that.

"i guess," you finally say.

karina hums thoughtfully, then takes a step closer to you. "would you ever do something like that again?"

you raise an eyebrow. "why? planning on watching again?"

she doesn't flinch. "maybe."

you snort and shake your head, “you liked it, didn’t you?”

and she smiles.

“i like when people stop pretending.”

and there it is—the real reason she keeps following you around, why she keeps pushing you, why she keeps testing you. it's not because she likes you; it's because she's curious. she wants to see how far you'll go, how much it'll take before you crack. you wonder if she's always been like this, if her family's wealth and influence have made her so bored and jaded that she'll do anything for entertainment.

you don't know what possesses you to take a step forward.

but karina doesn’t move away, doesn't even blink; her gaze flicks upward, meeting your eyes. you're taller than her by a few inches, and she has to tilt her chin up slightly to maintain eye contact, and for a moment, you wonder if she's going to kiss you. but instead, she reaches out and touches your cheek. her fingers are warm against your skin, and you swallow thickly as she brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

her thumb lingers near your jaw. "i'm hungry."

you blink, caught off guard by the sudden change of topic. "what?"

karina grins and lets her hand fall back to her side. "i said i'm hungry," she repeats, then nods toward the beach. "we should get some food."

you open your mouth to respond, but she's already walking away, headed toward the car, her dress billowing out behind her.

you take a deep breath.

then another.

and another.

and then you follow, because what else are you supposed to do?

an hour later, you were sprawled across the king-sized bed of a five-star hotel that you booked just for tonight with your dad's black card, karina curled up beside you in an oversized robe, giggling into her hand as you held the room’s phone to your ear.

you weren’t sure exactly what time it was, but you didn't care, forcing your voice to be deeper, which was totally not believable and made you sound like a fucking idiot.

"sir," the poor receptionist stammered, "the kitchen is closed—"

"do you know who i am?" you interrupted, deepening your voice even more as you mimicked your father’s business tone. "i could have this entire establishment shut down by morning. now, i want a steak, medium rare, and a bottle of your best wine on the table within the hour."

the line went quiet for a moment, and you could hear typing in the background. karina muffled her laughter against your shoulder before composing herself just enough to put on her best impression of your mother. "and do not forget the crème brûlée," she added, her voice sickly sweet. "my husband simply must have his dessert."

there was another long pause on the other end.

"…right away, sir," the receptionist finally said, defeated.

the moment you hung up, karina lost it, burying her face in the sheets as she laughed. you couldn’t help but grin, watching the way she absolutely delighted in your childish antics, how she encouraged them with her own impulsive ideas. it felt like a dream, something so outside the realm of reality that it was almost absurd. and yet, there you were, playing make-believe like children, stealing bottles of alcohol and ordering room service at 2 am.

"this is crazy," karina said between giggles, looking up at you with shining eyes. "absolutely insane."

you raised an eyebrow. "crazy enough to be fun?"

she blinked at you for a second before smiling. "yes."

you grinned. "good."

the room service arrives anyway (turns out, rich people always get what they want), and karina laughs when the waiter leaves, eyeing the table full of food. she looks like a kid on christmas morning, and you can't help but smile as she takes in all the options. the two of you sit side by side at the table, digging into the assortment of food.

it's probably the most delicious meal you've ever eaten.

karina laughs, taking a sip from her glass of wine as she watches you devour the steak. you try to ignore the way your stomach twists when she smiles at you, but it's hard not to notice the warmth spreading through your chest every time she looks your way. it makes your cheeks flush, and you're suddenly grateful that the lights are dim enough to hide it.

"i can't remember the last time i ate this much," you mumble around a mouthful of food.

"me neither," she admits. "i think i might explode."

"same," you say.

she leans back in her chair, swirling the wine in her glass before bringing it up to her lips. "what are we going to do tomorrow?" she asks.

you shrug. "dunno."

karina sets her glass down and watches you for a moment; the way she studies you makes your breath catch, and you quickly look away, suddenly too aware of how close you're sitting. her knee brushes against yours under the table, a light touch that makes your heart beat faster than it should.

"you've got some sauce—" she gestures vaguely toward your face.

you reach up to wipe it away, but she tuts, shaking her head. "no, here."

before you can react, she leans in, her thumb brushing against the corner of your lips, wiping away the sauce with a soft sweep. your skin burns where she touches you, and your gaze flickers up to meet hers. she smiles slightly, and your breath catches when her thumb lingers on your lip before she pulls away.

"there," she murmurs, licking the sauce off her finger, and oh god—your pulse spikes, and your whole body flushes.

you clear your throat and try to ignore the way the room suddenly feels warmer than before. it's too hot, and your clothes feel tight around your chest. you can't breathe. karina's gaze burns into you, and you swallow hard, trying not to squirm under her scrutiny.

"are you okay?" she asks.

"fine," you manage, reaching for the bottle of wine. your hands shake slightly as you pour yourself a glass, and when you glance back at karina, her eyes are still on you, studying you like you're a 400-page textbook.

you take a large sip.

"so," she says slowly, resting her chin in her palm, "have you ever had a girlfriend?"

you choke on the wine.

karina watches as you splutter and cough, her expression amused as you struggle to catch your breath. when you finally manage to compose yourself, she raises an eyebrow expectantly.

"well?"

"what?"

she smiles, "or a boyfriend? whichever one floats your boat."

"uh…" you trail off, trying to think.

"i haven't either," she says helpfully.

your face burns, and you take another sip of wine, hoping the alcohol will ease the sudden tension in your shoulders. "i haven't really thought about it," you admit.

"really?" she tilts her head curiously. "not even once?"

you shrug, picking at a loose thread on the hem of your shirt.

"okay," she says, and then she slides off her chair and moves around the table, standing next to you. you turn, startled, and she's right there, leaning against the armrest of your seat, her eyes dark as she stares at you.

"kiss me," she says.

your heart skips a beat.

"what?"

"you heard me," she says, smiling a little as she runs a finger along the edge of the table. "kiss me."

"i can't."

"why not?"

"because—" you start and then stop, not sure how to explain why this is a terrible idea. because your family will kill me? because my parents will disown me?

karina's smile widens.

"if you won't, i will."

you blink. "what?"

"i said," she says slowly, "if you won't, then i will."

she steps closer, her gaze locked onto yours. your breath hitches, and you lean back instinctively, but her hand finds your thigh, squeezing gently. she smells like jasmine, and her skin feels warm where it brushes against yours.

"kiss me," she murmurs, eyes dancing with challenge.

you swallow hard.

"okay," you say, your voice hoarse.

her smile widens, and she leans forward, her lips brushing against yours. it's soft at first, tentative, and then her hand slides up your thigh, and your brain short-circuits. she's gentle but persistent, coaxing you open, her tongue tracing the seam of your lips until you gasp. you let her in, tasting wine and strawberries and something sweeter.

your mind goes blank.

when you pull apart, her eyes are hooded, pupils blown wide. her lips are swollen and pink, and she licks them slowly, savoring the taste. she smiles at you, a lazy, satisfied grin.

"well?" she asks.

your heart pounds wildly in your chest.

"good," you croak.

karina laughs.

you wake up with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed, breathing heavily. there's no one next to you, just an empty space where a person should be. the sheets are still warm.

karina left a note.

and a phone number.

call me when you want to have fun again. - karina <3

#bytemee works #aespa karina #karina x reader #aespa x reader #jimin x reader #yu jimin x reader #yu jimin #kpop x reader #karina x fem reader #aespa #karina x you #karina x y/n #wlw #yoo jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin x y/n #yoo jimin aespa #karina #karina fluff

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dwaekkicidal · 7 months ago

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𝖪𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝖻𝖾𝗋: '𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖱𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗑' ༄࿔ H.H.

⤷ Massages | Hand Kink | Breath Play

♱ word count: 2.7k

♱ warnings: fem!reader, “happy ending” massage, hand kink, fingering, choking, multiple orgasms (just 2), unprotected p in v, creampie

♱ notes: honestly really tame compared to the others... i was trying so hard not to make him into mean dom lol ALSO im posting this really late in the day compared to the others so i apologize lol

not proofread thoroughly (sorry hehe)

Kinktober Schedule

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

Your head is throbbing and your eyes are drying up the longer you sit at your desk. Not a single concept from the last 2 units you read had made sense in your head, and you could barely remember the last sentence you just read.

Thanks to the constant stress you had been under from school, you had a horrible headache and couldn’t stop your leg from bouncing. You needed a break. And luckily for you, a new spa had opened up in your area that was having a “Grand Opening Sale.”

Which is what inevitably led you to your current state; lying face down on top of the comfortable padded table and staring down into the dark brown wood of the floor. Your masseur, a beautiful man named ‘Hyunjin’ had his back to you while his equally beautiful hands jumped around between warming up the oil and putting on music.

The snap of a bottle cap opening was heard and he soon drizzled warmed oil all over your back. You sighed happily at the warmth alone, but even more so when his long fingers began to smear the slippery substance all over your skin that he could get to.

And just like that, he worked his way around your achy body. His beautiful hands worked out each and every knot. The initial awkwardness had completely disappeared and was replaced with exhaustion as he worked his way around your torso muscles like some sort of muscle angel sent from above.

His hand worked wonders on your tense body and the warmed oil helped with breaking down your tension. So much so that you found yourself getting too relaxed. Too comfortable and too attracted to the man above you who was currently easing your body into what you swore was some sort of heaven.

Between the very attractive man behind you easing away the last few months' worth of stress and the constant reminder of his godly hands all over your body, your whole being starts to ache with need. So much so that your legs shake from the way you have to stop them from pressing together.

Your mind wanders on its own and the sound of his breathing is enough to set you off. He gets to a particularly rough spot on your back and you bite your lip hard in order to hide the sexual moan that was about to leave your mouth.

A huff leaves his lips and you’re unsure of what context it's under, though you’re quick to learn that he’s very aware of your body’s reactions to him. He finds it amusing and eggs you on further, moving his hands up to your shoulders and squeezing the flesh there extra tenderly and rubbing circles into the nape of your neck.

You start to wonder if his fingers are also this talented with- “Can you flip over for me?”

“Huh?” His husky voice hits you right in your pussy and it takes a moment to process what he says. He tilts his head playfully when you look back at him and repeats himself again, eyes staring into your soul as he does so. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and nodded slowly, waiting for him to turn around to flip your body.

Once you give him the ok, he turns back around to you and meets your eyes, smiling sweetly as he moves to stand over you. He wastes no time and sets his hands on your legs, working his way up slowly but surely as he continues his job and his goal.

And that goal would be exactly what led his hands to your thighs, squeezing the flesh there even after he had worked his way through all the knots. He smiles to himself when your eyes squeeze shut and your legs shake with that movement, so he does it again. This time much higher up on your thigh.

Your legs finally squeeze shut, trapping his hands between your legs and you gasp. He laughs to himself when you spit out an apology and shakes his head, rubbing your thigh with his thumb as he keeps his hands where they are, even after you release them.

“Is this ok?” He stares into your eyes and waits patiently for a response, not daring to make any more moves while he waits. You think for a moment as you stare back into his eyes and eventually nod, spreading your legs just the slightest bit more and waiting for him to make his next move.

He throws you a sexy smirk and proceeds with his movements, now growing bold enough to slip them over the small towel that covers your lower half. One of his long fingers traces around your hole, dipping in just the tiniest amount, and pulls back out to trace your clit with your wetness.

“So wet already.” He chuckles and leans forward, planting his free hand by your face as he leans in to kiss your cheek. As he does, he inserts his finger inside of you. It moves around expertly, curving just slightly into your walls looking for your G-spot, and thrusting at a speed that was too slow and just enough at the same time.

“Please, more…” You whine and squirm, looking up at him under your lashes with puppy eyes in hopes that it would convince him. But he doesn’t need much convincing when you look so pretty below him. So he listens immediately and inserts a second finger.

They work in tandem to build you up, finally finding your G-spot and curling into it repeatedly while now moving at a faster pace, one that’s less torturous but still doesn’t feel like enough. You spread your legs further apart and lean up to rest on your elbows, your forehead almost knocking his in the process.

He laughs under his breath at your eagerness and continues his ministrations as he holds eye contact with you, eyes dark and a sexy smile on his face. Your desperateness is adorable to him and he can’t help but give in, adding a third finger while keeping up his pace.

“What got you so riled up, Angel?” He tilts his head at you and leans forward more, pushing his forehead against yours. You moan desperately and grind your hips forward, sucking his fingers in even deeper. “Answer me and I’ll give you everything you want.” You look up at him from under your eyelashes and clench at the lust-dripping look he gives you.

“I just think your hands and your fingers are really pretty…” One of his eyebrows perks up in curiosity before a giant grin spreads across his face.

“Yeah?” His voice drops a few octaves and his biceps flex as he shoves his fingers into the knuckles. “These fingers?” He punctuates his sentence with a tight curl of his fingers against your G-spot and your eyes roll into the back of your head. He watches with a smile as you throw your head back and your jaw slacks. He leans forward and takes advantage of the new space, leaving wet, sloppy kisses all over your neck.

He’s careful not to leave marks as he does so, even pulling away sometimes to coo in your ear and tell you to keep your eyes on his hand or else he’ll stop. And you obey, eyes glued to his wrist and watching the way his veins pop out each time he curls his fingers. It makes you clench more around him and you can feel your orgasm building up even faster now.

“You wanna cum, Angel?” His deep voice makes your jaw drop and your leg attempt to twitch closed. His smile never falters but he tsks when you don’t answer the question. He bottoms out his fingers all the way and stops all movements, eyes glued to yours as he repeats his question.

“Y-Yes! I wanna cum, please-” His fingers pick up their pace immediately and he fixes his posture, freeing up his left hand in favor of reaching between your legs. His thumb messily plays with your clit as he fingerfucks you and you keen.

It doesn’t take long for you to unravel, your gummy walls sucking him in further and your clit throbbing as you finish with a loud moan of his name. He chuckles and removes his thumb, moving his hand up to your mouth and shoving his thumb into your cheek.

“Shhhh… We don’t want anybody getting suspicious, do we?” You don’t bother replying. Instead, you throw your head back and grind your hips forward as he continues to ride out your orgasm. Once your legs start to close around his torso, he eases his fingers out of you, reveling in the way they shimmer from your release.

His touch leaves you completely as his hand rests on his upper thigh, the other one moving up to his face where he sucks his pointer finger clean. You watch through fluttering eyelids as he closes his eyes and moans around his finger, even going as far as to make an obscene smacking noise as he releases it.

Your eyes meet again and he smiles before licking his lips and tilting his head at you. “Be good and open your mouth for me.” You comply in an instant and his lip twitches, he has to bite his lip to hide his smirk.

He holds eye contact with you as he reaches forward. Once his hand is close enough, his eyes move down to watch his middle and ring finger tracing the outline of your lips. The sight of him paints your lips with your own release, giving you makeshift lip gloss if you will, makes him bite his lip.

Butterflies grow in your stomach at the sight and you take it a step further; leaning in, grabbing his wrist, and wrapping your lips around those same fingers. His smile falters and his eyes look to yours only to be met with an intense stare back. One that drives him absolutely mad and makes his dick twitch in his khakis.

He moans when his fingertips hit your throat and he feels his control leaving his body. A quiet curse leaves his mouth as he pulls his hand away from you, using the now “clean” hand to wrap around your throat as the other pops open the button on his pants.

“You’re so fucking hot- I need to be inside of you right now or else I’ll die.” You let out a giggle that eventually gets interrupted by a moan as he tightens his grip on you. Then again when he spins you and pulls you to the edge of the table before tapping his cock against your folds.

“Prettiest Angel I’ve ever seen… Gonna make you mine, baby. You want that?” You open your mouth to respond and he pushes his tip in at the same time, hand squeezing just the slightest amount more as he pushes inch by inch in.

He’s long and it feels like he’s in your guts when he finally bottoms out, his balls resting flat against your ass. The hand around your throat finally loosens its hold and you gasp for air, head throbbing as you catch your breath.

“H-Hyunjin…”

“Angel- You okay?” You nod and he simply hums in response leaning forward and unintentionally spreading your legs further so he can push his lips against yours. Almost instinctively you open your mouth for him and you can’t hold back a moan when his tongue pushes in.

He takes his time kissing you, allowing you some time to adjust to his size as he slowly grinds his hips against yours. His hands caress your arms soothingly before one rests on your neck, not quite squeezing but just resting there. The other traces your body, moving from your arm down your waist before finally stopping at your hips where he squeezes the flesh appreciatively.

He squeezes one more time before planting his hand on the table next to your ass and reluctantly pulls away from your lips. Your own hands rest on his shoulders and your nails dig into his soft skin as he starts moving his hips.

“Give it to me, please” He moans and rolls his head back, hips stuttering as he processes what you’re requesting. He sighs deeply and sharply thrusts into you before shaking his head.

“Mm-mm… I’ll fuck your brains out next time. Just relax, Angel. I’m gonna fuck you nice and slow.” You whine loudly and pout up at him but nod your head when the hand on your neck cups your cheek.

His lips push against yours again as he caresses your cheek, and when he pulls away a smile paints his features. He can’t deny you when you look up at him so desperately, so he allows some leeway. His hips start moving, not as slowly as he wanted but just enough to make you shiver deliciously.

He fucks into you with sharp, yet thorough thrusts all while having the cutest smile on his face. And contrary to his facial expression, he’s mixing your guts around each time his hips meet yours, and his hand returns to your neck where it rips the air out of your lungs.

Quiet, breathy gasps leave your mouth as he fucks you silly, not even needing to pound you roughly to make you see stars. It makes you dizzy as you briefly think about this “next time” he speaks about. If this isn’t him fucking you dumb then you can’t wait to see what he has in store for you.

But none of that matters now. Not when he uses the hold on your neck to push you down onto the table. He has to release you to do so and traces his hand up your torso right after. The towel on your chest is long gone, half hanging off the table as it squeaks from his movements, and gives him free reign to rub your nipples softly.

Then his hand moves back up to your neck, this time only ghosting over it before you hear a choked command to “Open.” You do open your lips, but it’s only to ask what he means. However, you don’t get that far.

The same fingers you sucked clean minutes ago thrust suddenly into your mouth, pressing down against your tongue and making you gag. He laughs and apologizes, pulling them out just enough to not cause you to gag again.

He licks his lips as you suck the digits, swirling your tongue around them in a way he can only imagine you would do to his cock. The imagery of that alone is enough to push him closer to the edge, so he drags you to your own with him.

“Cum for me again- ok, Angel?” The fingers in your mouth pull out and rush to your clit where he rubs back and forth furiously. “Cum for me and we can get out of here.” He forces a smile through your tight cunt’s incessant sucking of him and quickens his thrusts.

Although sloppy and not as calculated as before, he manages to push you to cum alongside him, both his hips and his hands faltering as you milk him dry. He cums with a pretty moan, face scrunching up in pleasure and his still-clothed body shaking through it.

You’re not faring any better, your own face scrunched up and your body twitching from the overstimulation that starts to wrack through your body. You’re lucky he pulls away when he did because your body starts to tremble as he uses you to ride his orgasm out.

“You okay?” He’s still catching his breath but he pulls out and leans forward, his softening cock resting against your thigh as he places kisses all over your collarbone.

“Mhm…” You're not sure if you are even on the same planet as you were an hour ago, but he seems to be taking care of it as he helps you come down. His hands caressing your sides all over and his lips only leaving your skin to move to a new spot.

“Let’s get you out of here, yeah? My shift was supposed to end once this… ‘massage’ was over, so let me treat you.” He giggles at your mindless nod and cups your cheek, rubbing it with his thumb as he waits for you to come down.

Taglists: (red=can't be tagged)

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @bubblerizz

@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess

@dreamingaboutjisung @everythingboutkpop @velvetmoonlght @4l17h4

#sian’s writing #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader smut #hyunjin smut #hyunjin imagines #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyujin imagines #sian’s 2024 kinktober <3

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d3vilcvntz · 11 months ago

Text

silly little crush ♡

top male reader x bottom male character

he has a crush on you for months but feels like he have no chance with you because of your difference in personality. you were the outgoing and loud type of person who have lots of friends. he's basically the opposite of you, shy and can barely makes any friends. he admired you since the first time you approached him. you were just asking the directions to the building as you're new in this department, but something about that small interaction drives him crazy and he doesn't know why. he keeps ignoring these feelings as it's just a silly little crush and he'll probably move on from it later.

he was 2 years older than you, making him your senior so you did talk to him quite a lot after that because he have more knowledge than you. asking him how to do this and that, he's not complaining though. it's actually part of his day that he really looks forward to, even though he doesn't want to admit it.

you did tried to invite him to hang out sometimes but each times, he would just declined and said that he's busy. he's not actually, he just hate interacting with people, other than you of course. he would be down to hang out if it's just two of you though, but it will be weird for him to ask so he just wait for you to do it first. he just doesn't want to be seen as desperate

and the wait is worth it because you did ended up inviting him to hang out at your place. innocently asking him to teach you how to organise some files because you didn't know how to, which is not the main reason why you invited him over obviously. you actually knew about his feelings but keep it casual to see if he'll do anything about it. you taken a liking to him too since the day you got the job. he looks so cool doing his works that it made you wonder how he'll looks like in bed, getting ruined by you

you got bored waiting so why not make the first move ? he arrived at your place and both of you started talking about works as he helped you organised the files like you asked. you offered him to drink with you and get to know each other, i mean, you guys are coworkers after all but barely knows anything about one another. both of you were slowly getting drunks while sharing some personal stories

honestly, it's your first time seeing him this talkative. he's usually quiet in the office. he's so cute like this <3 the way he laughed everytime you make a joke, even though it's a lame one "i actually don't have that much friends so I don't really enjoy going to work everyday.. well that's until i met you" he said, taking another sip on his drink. you were shocked at the sudden topic but just smiled at him, waiting for him to continue "you know..it's funny that i actually like you even though we barely know each other" he spoke again

you paused for a moment "is this a confession?" you teased him, looking at him directly "...what?...wait..wait! i didn't mean that way ! i mean.." he basically panicked, stuttering on his words, face flushed "im sorry..im sorry... i must have creep you out.. i just-" before he can even finish his sentence, you gave him a kiss on the lips, a quick one

he was shocked and quickly backed away, there's a lot he wanted to say and ask but he didn't know why he feels like all of it just got stuck in his throat "i like you too" you told him, getting closer to him. that just answered all of his questions. "the feelings are mutuals then?" you asked him, giving a little smile. he feels like he's about to burst

both of you were in your bed now, you pushed him down, making him lay on it "can i?" you asked, fingers fiddling with his buttons which he responded with a simple yes. you unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his body to you. he's so pretty ♡

his hands grabbed on your shirt, basically asking you to take it off too. you slide your hand in his pants, teasing his cock. he moans so sweetly in your ear <3 you want to hear more of it, no, you need to hear more of it. slowly pulling off his pants and underwear, pouring lube all over your fingers and sliding one of it inside him

you're trying your best to take it slow and make it enjoyable for both of you. you added more fingers as time went by, getting him all stretched out and ready for you

you were trying to grab the condom by your bedside before he stopped you, eyes avoiding yours "we don't need that..it's okay if it's you" he whispered softly. shit, don't think you can't even control yourself anymore if he's this cute !

pushing your cock into him, watching how his hole swallowed you up. thrusting into him with a slow pace to get him used to it. his hands gripping the sheets, soft moans filling up the room. you began to pick up the pace and thrust deeper into him, chasing your own orgasm as well as his

you both came soon after, holding onto each other. you laid beside him with your cock still inside him as you whispered nothing but sweets into his ear, calming him down from his high

you slowly pulled out your cock, earning cute whimpers from him "no...it's gonna leak out" he said so sweetly, shoving his fingers inside his hole to keep your cum inside

it takes everything in you to not just do another round but you wanted to be gentle as this is his first time after all <3 you stood up from the bed to prepare the bath for both of you, trying to distract yourself. you have to clean it all up after all, don't want to sleep all sweaty and sticky

sitting in the bathtub together, cuddling with him between your legs as he leaned onto your chest "this is like a dream to me" he suddenly said, looking up at you with a soft smile. ah, this might be the best day in your life <3

a/n: this is so normal compared to my other works lmfao

#sub character #top reader #top male reader #d3vilcvntz's works

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ninikrumbs · 6 months ago

Text

risk

basketballplayer satoru gojo x reader. fluffy fluff. feat. a bit of geto, shoko and utahime.

The roar of the crowd resonates throughout the entirety of the huge gymnasium. People wearing different colors of the team they're rooting for, already screaming and hyping each other up like they all drank a can of red bull beforehand.

Amidst the noise, the squeaking of shoes could also be heard from your place at the top of the bleachers. You can see the players warming up on each side. The sight of a familiar white head of hair made your heart skip though he was too focused to notice you were even here.

You take a deep breath in as your nervous gaze swipes through the area. You bit your lip, hands fidgeting, not knowing what to do. Deciding to come here was a last minute decision, a whim, a risk. So you failed to inform anyone of your attendance, including the man who's last name was currently printed on the back of the jersey you were wearing .

Its not like you haven't been here before. You've come to countless practices, just not an official match. And in the thick of the crowd, you can't locate your friends that were surely here. You could feel pairs of eyes burning a hole on your back, probably wondering why you were wearing the jersey of the basketball teams star player.

Maybe, you should have thought this through. You didn't need to come here, you could have caught the next game where you could have actually told Satoru and your friends you were coming. Then you could have avoided this awkward situation.

But all of those thoughts gets push back when your mind races to Satoru's dejected eyes.

"Its okay, sweets. You don't have to go tomorrow." Satoru assured you as he brushes a stray hair away from your face.

You sat on the kitchen counter, with Satoru between your thighs, his big hands squeezing your hips comfortingly. "But you want me to go."

"I do wanna see my gorgeous girl cheering me on from the sidelines," You rolled your eyes at that, making him chuckle. "But, I don't want you to feel pressured. If your not comfortable making out relationship public yet then its fine."

And you know he means it. He has been nothing short of perfect throughout this budding relationship of yours. Sure, he can be a bit childish, but you liked that about him. In fact, it is still a mystery to you how you landed him in the first place. Though your insecurities had no time to properly take root with how Satoru showers you constant praises and compliments. Its like he wants your head to get as big as his, which you think is near impossible.

"Are you sure, Toru?"

He nods before pressing a kiss to your forehead, "Im sure, baby. There are still plenty of games this season. Missing this one doesn't matter."

Yet you couldn't help but notice the downhearted look in his eyes that he tried to hide by slapping on a dorky grin, but even that looked a little forced.

At that moment, the apartment doorbell rang. "Ooh, must be the pizza!" Satoru immediately started walking to the door, leaving you to your thoughts.

Its not like you didn't want to go. God knows you want nothing more than to scream your heart out as you sat on the bleachers with Shoko and Utahime. Its just the thought of everyone finding out that you were dating the star player of one of the most renowned universities in the country is a tad intimidating. Not to mention the scary fans, that look like they would have shrines built for Gojo and immediately despising anything that would come in between them and their idol.

Having a history with bullying in high school, you weren't good with hate, with the backtalking, the whispering and countless of judgemental eyes on you. Plus, sometimes your overthinking mind wins when Satoru isn't around, what if you broke up? Then everyone would know that you got dumped and that would be a million times embarrassing. Is this new relationship really worth the risk?

You sighed, damn you really needed to get a grip and grow a spine one of these days. Satoru walked back to the kitchen all giddy with two pizza boxes in hand. He grinned as he opened them one by one on the table. "Here's my pizza with cheese and crumbled oreo cookies on top."

His pizza choices made your nose scrunch everytime. "And here's your triple cheese pizza, and I got some lactaid in advance so your tum-tum won't get all weird."

You pursed your lips, your inner spiraling made you a bit emotional, as you hastily try to blink back the tears that were starting to form. Stupid Toru, It was your heart that got all weird and warm. He said that like it wasn't a big deal, like he didn't know that were gonna be deeply moved that he remembered. It really was the little things that got to you. He turns around to get the pizza cutter in one of the drawers.

Hastily, you jump down the counter and hugged him from behind. You embraced his waist tightly, nuzzling your head on his clothe back.

"Woah, whats this for? " He said, startled. "Not that Im complaining. Jump me all you want." He chuckled, clasping his big hands over your smaller ones.

"Nothing," You murmured, breathing in his scent. "I don't think you know how much I appreciate you, Toru."

Yes, you were a bit scared. But if there was anyone you would dive head first for, it was this man right here. Satoru was worth the risk.

"Well, there are someways you can sho-"

"Satoru Gojo!"

Yeah, you'd sleep on it.

So here you are. You showed up for him and somehow also for you. You were proud to be his girlfriend, jealous fans be damn. You weren't about to disappoint one of the best things that ever happened to you just because of a bunch of unwelcomed stares and whispers.

Thankfully not a minute to soon, a familiar voice calls out your name and you turn to see Shoko's surprise face that converted into a wide grin. "You actually came!"

You let out a breath of relief, finally a friendly face. "Shoko, you have no idea how glad I am to see you."

"You should've told me you were coming!" She excitedly pulls you by the arm, leading you down the stairs to the front of the bleachers, bumping into a few people that curiously stares at your oversized jersey, "That idiot is gonna be jumping hoops once he sees you."

Finally, the both of you made it to the seats right in front of where the team was warming up. Utahime jumps and gives you a hug. Obviously pleased with your arrival. "Hell yeah! Now we're a three girl cheer squad!"

Before you could take a seat Shoko pulls you by the arm once more, making you face the court. She puts a hand to her mounth as she yells, "Yo! Gojo! Look who's here!"

Suguru who hears the commotion first, nudges Satoru by the arm with a satisfied smirk on his face. Satoru turns his head, confused. His eyes lands on Shoko then on her hand that was obnoxiously pointing right on the top of your head.

The moment his eyes lands on you, he took a double take, as if he wasn't sure if his eyes were deceiving him. Clarity seems to find him as half a second later he beams at you, a wide grin breaking on his face, his bright blue eyes sparkling delight and happiness. He immediately ran towards you, screaming. "You came! You freaking came!"

You squeal as you were swept off your feet in seconds and into Gojo`s warm embrace, spinning you around in glee. You couldn't help but giggle at his unrestrained reaction, "Toru, put me down. Im getting dizzy!"

Unwillingly, he place you back on the ground, but he still held you flushed against him by the waist. "You're here, you're actually here. I just can't believe you're here."

You put your hands on his chest, rubbing soothingly as you look up at him shyly. "I couldn't miss my boyfriend's first game of the season now, could I?"

His cerulean eyes soften, gazing at you so tenderly, lips smiling gingerly, "You didn't have to do this, pretty."

"I know, but I wanted to."

Honestly, you didn't expect that you coming here would mean so much to him but the pure joy in his eyes were undeniable. How did you ever think of passing this up?

He rubs soft circles on your waist, eyes glancing at your outfit as he noticed you wearing a jersey. "Wait, are you wearing my.."

You laugh at his surprise. Pulling away, you give him a little twirl, showing off the huge Gojo printed on the back. "Of course I am. Whose else would I wear?"

"No, Its just-"

"Should I have worn Nanami's? but that wouldn't be appropria-"

You were cut short as he pulls you back to him possessively, tucking his face into your neck, making you laugh "No! You're mine!"

You could practically hear the crowd talk and whisper at Gojo's displays of affection, but honestly you didn't care right now. The only thing you cared about was the man that clung on to you like someone was about to steal you away from him.

Laughing softly, you manage to hug him back. "Im kidding, Satoru."

"Not funny." He pouts.

A tap to Satoru's back snaps the both of you out of the your little bubble. Its was Suguru, "The game's bout to start, man."

Satoru reluctantly untangles himself from you. "Yeah, yeah. Ill be right there."

"Hurry up, you can flirt with your girlfriend later."

He waves Geto off nonchalantly before he faces you again. He was gonna get scolded by his coach at this point. You push him away playfully to the direction of the court, "Go! I'll be right here."

Warm knuckles brushes your cheeks as he nods. "Cheer real loud for me, okay?" Your cheeks heat up as you give him a determined nod, "You got it!"

Geto practically drags him away from you. Halfway through the court though, he runs back to where you were standing.

"Toru?" You tilt your head.

He grins cheekily as he says, "I forgot something." Warms hands cup your face as he leans down and presses his lips to yours, your hands flew to his wrists as you kiss him back. Lips molding against his. It was short yet intense. It made your toes curl and your head spin.

"Gojo! " Utahime`s screeching voice flits through the air. "Save the kissing after the game when you win and actually deserve it!"

Gojo chuckles as he breaks away, a light blush dusting his cheeks. Your mind was still in a daze when he winks at you. "Nah, I already know Im winning."

Yep, he's definitely the risk that you would take over and over again.

Youre the risk, Im gonna take it. Obessed with this song lately.

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lewisvinga · 1 year ago

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this little life | carlos sainz x fem! reader

summary; when childhood lovers y/n and charles break up, it sends the whole internet into chaos. what sends them into an even bigger chaotic mess was the reasoning behind their breakup and who she turned to for comfort afterwards.

fc; cindy kimberly

warnings; cursing, cheating, slut shaming

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minkyungseokie @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri

note; requested ! there’s a couple of typos on the tweets LMAO n i felt too lazy to fix ‘em🤕

masterlist !

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

liked by carlossainz55, yourbestfriend, and others !

yourusername: moving onto bigger & better things.

yourbestfriend: AWOOGA

yourbestfriend: gorgeous gorgeous girls dgaf abt men

yourusername: gorgeous gorgeous girls would rather shop and drink lattes with their besties than deal w men

username: omg so it is true

username: YOU GO GLEN COCO

username: ‘better things’ CHARLES WAS PERFECT FOR U

username: any1 notice that carlos liked lol

username: he’s been following her for a few years now lol

username: just saying, why are u liking ur friends ex’s post a bit weird me thinks

username: well u thinks weird

username: ugh the makeup😻😻

username: im on mothers side of this divorce 🥸

username: whyd u break up w charlesssss

francisca.gomes: 😻😻 liked by yourusername !

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; 🥹] [caption 2; men who know your worth and treat you like you’re worth the whole world and more >>]

yourbestfriend replied to your story

yourbestfriend WHOOOOOOOOO

yourbestfriend that’s a hairy ass arm i know that’s not french boy

yourusername LMAO it’s not him don’t worry😁

yourbestfriend then WHO

yourusername maybe his not so little friend

yourbestfriend oh you bitch

yourbestfriend happiness looks good on u tho☹️ tell your new man that i won’t hesitate to throw hands at him

yourusername LMAO i’ll let him know😁

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

liked by carlossainz55, yourbestfriend, and others !

yourusername: i think i like this little life 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨❤️‍🩹

tagged; carlossainz55

carlossainz55: 😍😍😍

yourusername: te quiero ❤️ [i love you]

yourusername: te quierooooo❤️‍🩹

username: uhm excuse me?????

username: oh !

username: well that’s….

username: this is such slutty behavior tbh, going from driver to driver months after breaking up w her CHILDHOOD BOYFRIEND🤢

username: literally a homie hopper

username: it’s such whorish behavior 💀

username: y’all talking abt y/n when this makes carlos SUCH a bad teammate, no wonder lewis is taking his seat

username: idc what y’all say they’re a FINEEEE couple

username: LITERALLY😩😩😩

yourbestfriend: hairy man gets a little pass from me……

yourusername: LMAOOOO

carlossainz55: u don’t gotta worry abt me trust🫡

username: this is SUCH nasty behavior from both of them

username: poor charles ☹️☹️

username: i always had a bad feeling abt her, guess its bc she’s a slut

username: breaking up with ur ex after dating since 15, then a few months get w his teammate?? that’s such gold digger behaviorrrrr

username: carlos is SUCH a shitty teammate, can’t even keep his dick in his pants and goes for his teammates ex, NASTY🤮🤮😷

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

liked by carlossainz55, lilymhe, and others !

yourusername: think i like this little life more ever since the truth came out and i can live peacefully con mi amor. ❤️‍🩹

tagged; carlossainz55

carlossainz55: siempre contigo, mi vida [always with you, my life], through the good and the bad ❤️

yourusername: carlitoooos🥹🥹

username: she said FUCK the haters liked by yourusername !

username: how’d charles fuck up and fumble THEEE y/n

yourusername: bc his season ‘wasn’t going how he wanted it to be’ lolllll 🤓🤓🤓🤓

username: he doesn’t deserve u queen

lilymhe: cute but when are u and y/b/f coming to the paddock i miss my gfs 🕊️

yourusername: SOON MY LOVE

carlossainz55: why’re you trying to steal MY girlfriend

yourbestfriend: she was ours first MOVE BACK

yourbestfriend: gorgeous gorgeous girls find men who treat them right after dating liars and cheaters

yourusername: 😇

username: they could never make me hate u 💯

username: now can the haters stfu and focus on HOW FINE THEY ARE AS A COUPLEEEE

username: the first picture i’m so????

username: them<3

username: good for her that she finally found someone who treats her good🥹 yall were so co corned abt charles’ feelings w/o caring abt hers😕 liked by yourusername !

username: ppl alwayssss jump to conclusions w/o knowing the truth, but at least now we know💆‍♀️

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 scenario #formula one scenarios #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #carlos sainz smau #carlos sainz social media au #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader

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angels-read-fanfiction-too · 4 months ago

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okay yes i've been gone for like two months but WHATEVER! JERRY STOKES FANFICTION RN!

Established relationship sickfic!

Warnings: Vomit and swearing

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

"Can i come in, please?"

Jerry had told you on Friday that he was going to a friends house for the weekend to perform an impressive 32 hour sci-fi marathon! You weren't going to stop him despite your hope to hang out on Saturday, it sounded fun! Bonding, staying up, fun chats, junk food!

It was not fun.

Jerry now stood at your door at 10pm on a Sunday in a vomit stained t-shirt 5 times too big for him, sickly pale skin littered with bruises, blood and cuts, a defeated look on his gaud face and a hazy look in his eyes that made you worried he would pass out on your doorstep. You almost didn't let him in with how much he reeked of sweat, blood and vomit but you needed to. "Jesus christ, Jerry! Come in, please, i'll get you some water and just sit down!" You quickly ushered him in, giving him your hand which was met with him clinging onto your arm. You didn't mind! Honestly! Okay, maybe a little with his breath of cheezits and stomach acid, but you were happy he felt okay to depend on you like that. He sat down on the staircase, the first thing he could find to rest on, and you rushed off to the kitchen to grab some water. As you did so, Jerry wondered to himself why he even did this... He thought it would be great but now he's humiliated himself in front of his partner. He kinda hated himself right now.

"Here you go, Jer. Drink up and you'll feel better. I'm so sorry i wasn't there, what happened?" Handing him the water, you began to ramble in an almost motherly concern for him that tended to come out frequently due to how often he got himself hurt. A blush covered Jerry's cheeks and ears as he felt how deeply you cared for him. He quickly drank up and let out a belch that made you nervous he'd vomit on your mothers new carpet. "Josh was being a fucking idiot and he made us drink coffee-" His stomach loudly grumbled which just made you more nervous. "Okay it's time to go to my room!" You pulled up his sluggish body from under his armpits like a misbehaving cat and helped him upstairs "I'm really sorry... We didn't mean it to end up like this and my mom and dad would be so mad if i came home like this." Jerry spoke with a horse voice as he clung onto you. You sighed in pity and gave him a kiss on his hair, somehow picking up both blood and Dorito crumbs? No more kisses until he has a shower, it's not worth it. You truly put up a lot with this boy but at least the kiss seemed to help him, putting a gentle smile on his face. He sat down on your bed and immediately gets comfortable in it, even taking one of your stuffed animals into your arms as he closed his eyes. He only muttered, "Im gonna sleep here..." Before immediately conking out. He certainly needed it, he could barely get up the stairs without closing his eyes, yet this was a pretty difficult situation. You hadn't told your mother that he's come over, there's school tomorrow, his parents are probably wondering where he is, but as you see him asleep after such an obviously difficult day, you suddenly don't mind. Pulling the duvet over him, you tried your best not to wake him and left a kiss on his cheek. Maybe this last kiss was worth it.

#jerry stokes #jerry stokes x reader #jerry stokes x you #the eltingville club #welcome to eltingville #eltingville club x reader #eltingville club jerry #Jerome titus stokes #jerome stokes #sickfics solo #kinda gross so sorry

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stevie-petey · 10 months ago

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episode nine: the good

Soon it’s just you and Steve. You work around one another, anticipating each other’s next move, never getting in the way. Soft music plays from the record player that sits in the den. Steve puts on one of his father’s old records, gentle rock and delicate jazz. You hum to yourself, he hums with you, and it’s a peaceful morning. Until Richard and May Harrington walk in. Neither of you notice them at first. Steve is too busy spinning you around, playfully dipping you as the music comes to a grand crescendo. You’re laughing breathlessly, but soon your laughter turns into a yelp when Steve sees his parents standing in the doorway and drops you.

Summary: the party battles the horrors of high school and leave you stranded, tw: applying for college is harder than fighting literal demons (you would know, youve done it), jonathan joins your nightmare blunt rotation, max worries you, and steve solidifies his position of Best Boyfriend in the World as you slowly fall apart (though is anyone really surprised ??).

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: cursing, allusions to previous character death

Words: 11.2k idk how or why i needed to say so much

Before you swing in: we're here !!! FINALLY at the end of season 3 <3333 im so so so excited to present to you the groundwork for what i have planned for season 4 ;) it will be ... a lot. the season is huge, its difficult and scary, and i did my best to try and capture its dread and ominous sense of doom in this chapter. please enjoy and bear with me as i prepare for season 4. unsure when i will be done planning her, but i PROMISE itll be worth it !!

“Are you sure Ms. Bote is nice?”

“Yes.”

“And that Mr. Cune won’t question the hat?”

“Yes, Dustin.”

“And you’re absolutely sure we have lunch together?”

“Yes.” You tighten the straps on your mary janes and give your brother an exasperated look. All morning he’s been freaking out about his first day of high school. You understand his fear, it’s scary starting at a new school, but you’ve answered all his questions a million times by now and Steve is supposed to be here any second. “We need to go, buddy.”

Dustin shoves a pancake into his mouth, wiping his face with the back of his hand in a disgusting manner. “Wait, but what about my backpack–”

“I have it, Dusty!” Your mother walks into the kitchen and hands it to him. She kisses his mess of curls and strokes your cheek. “Are my darlings ready for their first day of school?”

“No.” You and Dustin say at the same time, which your mother frowns at.

Dustin adjusts his backpack and gives you an odd look. “Why are you nervous? It’s not like you’re being blindly thrown into a den of hormonal creatures out for blood. You’re old now, they’ll leave you alone!”

“Trust me, the college admissions process is a worse monster than school bullies.” You grab your own backpack and start heading towards the front door. “I have to start planning what to write, I–I need more clubs, and projects, and–”

The anxiety overwhelms you. It always starts like this: talk about college, you fall down a hole of uncertainty and dread and fear. It’s been like this ever since Jonathan moved away. The minute the Byers moved, you threw yourself into preparing for college. Rationally, you know it’s your poor way of coping with all the sudden change in your life. You don’t need a psychological research journal to tell you that. In a futile attempt to control your future, you’ve become obsessed with college.

New York University, specifically.

Jonathan has always dreamed of attending, and when you met him, it became your dream, too.

“Okay, dear. Settle down, now.” Your mother places a hand on your shoulder and laughs nervously. She has about five seconds before you collapse into a mess of college admissions rambling and despair. “Let’s go outside and find that wonderful Stevie!”

Your body is shoved out the front door alongside Dustin’s. Steve’s car is parked, he stands outside it, arms crossed and a grin on his face. Your body relaxes when you see him, the buzz of anxiety dims. He’s wearing his Family Video vest, the green makes his tanned skin glow.

“She’s doing it again.” Dustin tells him, tossing his backpack into the backseat.

Steve winces. He knows exactly what your brother is referring to. He’s been at the other end of far too many anxious phone calls at three in the morning. “College?”

“Yeah, she almost had a meltdown in the kitchen.”

“I can hear you both, you know.” Though you try to seem fine, keep up the annoyance, you stand next to Steve and rest your head on his shoulder anyways. He wraps an arm around you and kisses your forehead.

Steve rubs your arm and makes a sympathetic noise. Your mother, seeing how he holds you, squeals. “Oh, stay just like that, hold on!”

“Mom, what–” But your mother ignores you and runs back inside the house. You look at Dustin, terrified. “She’s not…”

He shakes his head at you. He leans against the car next to you and crosses his arms, mimicking Steve’s earlier stance. “She’s mom. Of course she is.”

“What are you guys talking about–” A flash of light momentarily blinds Steve, and he flinches. “Woah, alright.”

“Smile, kids!” Another camera flash, and your mother coos as you, Steve, and Dustin awkwardly shuffle into frame. It’s not that the three of you dislike being near the other, it’s the fact that it’s seven in the morning and neither you nor Dustin are ready for the day ahead. Steve smiles, though. “That’s it! Everyone say, ‘happy first day of school’!”

A mess of incoherent mumbling follows your mothers command, but she doesn’t let it bother her. She takes a million pictures, preens when she sees Steve smile even wider, and she has to hold back tears. Her babies are all grown up. Dustin is a freshman now, and you’re a senior.

“Alright, Mrs. Henderson,” Steve has to quickly blink, trying to regain his eyesight. He adores the woman, he knows he’s become her favorite, but he really needs to get you to school before his shift at Family Video starts. “I have no doubt you’ve already taken the best picture ever.”

“Aw, just one more–”

“Mom.” Dustin clears his throat, urging her to stop, and she sighs.

Your mother kisses Dustin’s head, then yours, and wishes you a good first day before getting into her own car to drive to work. “Bye, kids!”

You all wave at her, and Steve opens the car door for you. Once you’re seated, he goes to the driver’s side and tells Dustin to get in the back. The engine starts, soft music plays from Steve’s radio, and soon the three of you are driving towards Hawkins high.

“No Robin?” You ask Steve after a few minutes of silence. He’s grown rather close to the girl, working together all summer, so you had expected her to drive with you guys to school. When you and him officially got together, Robin made the two of you promise that you wouldn’t abandon her. It was an irrational fear, you love Robin dearly, but you made sure to spend time with her and Steve equally anyways.

“She has band practice this morning,” Steve responds. “So it’s just me and the Hendersons today.”

Dustin shoves his head in between the two of you. His seatbelt strains against his chest, but he doesn’t care. He’s on a mission to get as much information as he possibly can. He refuses to go into high school blind and pathetic. “Steve, you were once popular.”

“Why the past tense? I mean, I’d consider myself still pretty well liked–”

“I need you to tell me what you did that led to your demise so I can avoid doing the same.”

You snort and Steve sighs. The kid really keeps him humble. He stops at a light, looks at Dustin through the rearview mirror, and shakes his head. “What makes you think it was anything I did?”

“Kid’s got a point,” you say from the passenger seat. Steve gives you an offended look and you raise your hands in surrender. “Hey, all I’m saying is that I also don’t really know what happened. You’ve got a track record of pissing off the wrong people. One minute you were King Steve, the next you were shunned.”

Steve groans. “You people have no faith in me.” He can feel you and Dustin staring at him, unbelieving. He hates when the two of you team up against him; it makes it harder for him to lie. Truthfully, he doesn’t want to tell you what happened. Not because he’s embarrassed, or ashamed, even.

He knows it will only upset you. Reopen wounds.

But you and Dustin keep staring at Steve and there’s still at least ten minutes left of the drive. Weighing his options, Steve figures it’s best if he just tells the truth. Like ripping off a bandaid, knowing the pain will be there regardless of how long you stall. “Okay, fine.” He scratches his nose, clears his throat. “It was, uh. Because of Billy.”

The temperature in the car drops. It’s suddenly ice cold.

Dustin slowly leans back against his seat. Steve faces ahead, eyes on the road, but he watches you from his periphery. No one has mentioned Billy since his death, at least not in front of you or Max.

Especially Max.

They wait for you to react. To tense up, ball your hands into fists and wipe away tears. They expect the guilt you’ve barely kept hidden to resurface, but you don’t do any of that. Instead, you surprise them. “Can’t believe you let a mullet defeat you.”

Steve isn’t sure if he’s allowed to laugh at first, worried it’s some bizarre test of yours. But he sees the smile on your face, albeit forced and terse, but he knows you’re trying. So he plays along, relieved that you’re doing what you can. “I don’t know, I thought the mullet looked pretty good.”

“Get a mullet and see how fast I leave you.”

Dustin nods in agreement, Steve shakes his head with a laugh, and the temperature in the car returns. There’s still a slight chill in the air, there will always be a slight chill, but you pull your jacket tighter around you and ignore it.

When you get to the school, Dustin stares at the hounds of teens all walking through the parking lot. He gulps, tightens his hands around his backpack, and you try to ease his apprehension.

“Hey, look at me.” He does, and you extend your arm, offering a handshake. Dustin eyes you wearily, but reluctantly he shakes your hand. You nod at him, hand firm around his. “It’s just you and me. And Lucas. Max, too. Unfortunately, possibly Mike. Copy?”

“Copy.” Dustin releases your hand and salutes you. He pushes his hat down, takes a deep breath, and unbuckles his seatbelt. “Let’s go.”

“Good luck, little Henderson.” Steve salutes him as well before turning to you. He presses his lips to yours, hums, a soft smile on his face. “And good luck, angel.”

Ignoring Dustin’s dramatic gagging in the back, you squeeze Steve’s hand and smile back at him. “Thanks, honey. Have a good day at work.”

Dustin nearly falls out of the car with how fast he scrambles out of it. He’s about to ban all forms of physical affection between you and Steve. It’s disgusting. No one wants to see any of that. You follow after your brother and exit the car.

You only make it a few feet before Steve rolls down the car window and shouts, “I love you!”

A few students in the parking lot turn, and their faces contort into shock when they see none other than Steve Harrington. He waves at them, cocky as always, and you’re both mortified and so in love. He may have lost his crown, but he will always be the king. While Dustin ducks his head down in embarrassment, you wink at Steve. “I love you, too!”

“You’re going to be the reason I end up getting thrown into a dumpster on my first day.”

“Aw, is Dusty-bun jealous?”

“Go die.”

–

The entire day it feels like you’re missing something.

When you get to homeroom, there isn’t a seat saved for you at the front. When the physics teacher drops his chalk five times within the first five minutes, there isn’t anyone to tease you for your poorly contained snicker. In the library, you’re forced to sit in a corner because there’s no one to share the plush sofa with.

There’s no one who whispers answers to you during calculus. No one who hooks their foot around your desk’s leg. No one who doodles in your notebook just to get you to laugh.

Jonathan’s absence is palpable.

You knew it would feel weird, starting senior year without him, but you didn’t think it’d feel so lonely, either. Empty. Unfinished.

By the time lunch comes, you’re slowly losing your mind. You need someone to talk to. Robin and Nancy don’t share any classes with you, Jonathan had been your only real friend at Hawkins, and now you’re paying the price.

You’re the first one at the lunch table, which you figure is a good thing. Earlier in the week you and the party had all agreed to sit together at lunch, you’d been excited to finally share the same school building as them. However, you hadn’t wanted to hover over them. You wanted them to branch out, meet new people, so lunch was your agreed upon time with them.

The lunch room fills with students and you wait anxiously for the rest of the party. You’re excited to see them, ask how their days are going, maybe even gossip about the freshmen, but when they arrive it’s almost as if a tornado rips right through you.

“There you are!” Dustin finds you first and slides into the seat next to you, nearly causing you to face plant into the ground. “Look, we gotta talk.”

You frown. “Okay, is everything–”

“We can’t stay and eat.” Mike cuts to the chase, not even bothering to sit down. Lucas stands behind him, quiet and nervous.

“What, why?”

“Eddie Munson wants to meet us.” Dustin says the boy’s name as if you should know him. But you don’t, and now you’re really confused. What does he have to do with any of this?

“Eddie…?”

Mike rolls his eyes at you. “Eddie Munson, Hellfire club, DnD?” When he sees that nothing he’s saying makes any sense to you, he huffs. “Seriously, do you not know anything?”

You throw a chip at him, hurt. “I was in choir, not some stupid DnD club.”

“Hellfire club isn’t stupid–”

“Anyways!” Dustin cuts the fight short. There isn’t time for you and Mike to argue right now. “Eddie is the dungeon master, and he’s recruiting us to join his party! We–we gotta go and meet him, Y/N. He doesn’t just let plebe freshmen like us join.”

“He’s legendary.” Mike says, and sadly you know he means it. It’s not often someone has the boy’s full admiration. Mike is hard to impress, and this Eddie guy seems to have him wrapped around his finger already.

Dustin stares up at you, eyes pleading to understand, and you know you can’t ruin this for him. Only hours ago he had been terrified of his first day, and now he’s almost vibrating with excitement over the possibility of joining some club. There will be people there like him, others interested in what he loves, and you can’t let your own loneliness ruin that.

“Well,” you clear your throat, try to appear excited for the boys. “Go see Eddie, then.”

“You sure?” Dustin doesn’t want to just leave, he knows you were looking forward to lunch today. He’ll stay if you need him to, he’s sure Mike can talk his way in with Eddie.

You smile at him, force your voice to be light. They’re growing up. You all are. “I’m sure, it’s your first day. You’re supposed to be joining a bunch of clubs, it’s a good way to make friends. I’m proud of you. Seriously.”

Dustin isn’t entirely convinced, but Mike has already grabbed his arm to go and find Eddie. He turns to Lucas, beckons him to follow. “C’mon, dude.”

“I’ll-uh. Follow in a sec.” Mike gives him an odd look, but Lucas is already sitting down next to you. Seeing this, Mike gives up and leaves with Dustin. As soon as they’re gone, Lucas lowers his voice and leans in close to you. “Hey, do you, uh. Know Jason Carver?”

The scent of chocolate ice cream infiltrates your nose, the sound of it colliding into the teen’s pants rings in your ears. The memory of it is tangible, and you have to hold back a laugh. Yeah, you know Jason Carver. “I mean, we aren’t friends, but we know each other. Why?”

“Do you…” Lucas looks around, making sure Mike and Dustin really are gone, before he continues. “Do you think he’d let me join the basketball team?”

You’re surprised. Sure, Lucas has always shown an interest in the sport. He plays with Steve sometimes, they trade cards, but you didn’t think he’d be interested in the school’s team. “Oh.” Then, you realize why he’s stayed behind. “You don’t want to join Hellfire, do you?”

“I know I’m just a freshman, and–and Mike would probably call me dumb for wanting to even try out, but. I don’t know. I think… I think I could be really good on the team. Might make high school easier.”

“Then you should go for it,” you reassure Lucas. He’s always been so careful to not upset others. He’s loyal, down to his very core, you understand the fear that doing something for yourself brings. “Jason isn’t so bad. A bit much, but kind. He’s a team player, and I think they'd be lucky to have someone like you.”

Lucas smiles shyly at you. “Really?”

“Really. Now, go and find the guy. Ask him when try-outs are, and I’ll talk to Steve about practicing more with you. How’s that sound?”

“You’re the best!” Lucas gives you a quick hug, already getting out of his seat, and runs right into Max. They collide, he manages to save her from falling, and he laughs sheepishly. “Sorry, you okay?”

Max nods, silent, and immediately you and Lucas know that today is one of her bad days. Her eyes are sunken in, it doesn’t look like she got any sleep last night. She sits down next to you, and you nod at Lucas, signaling to him that it’s okay if he leaves. You’ll take care of her.

Lucas hesitates, unsure, but reluctantly leaves when you nod at him once more, urging. If it was anyone else, he would stay, but it’s you. Besides Lucas, you’re the only other person Max talks to. You’ll stay with her, Lucas deserves to go and branch out like Mike and Dustin are.

“So, did you know about Lucas wanting to join the basketball team?” You turn to Max once the boy has left. She shrugs, picks at the food in front of her. It’s the most response you’ll get from her, and you sigh. “You don’t want to be here either, do you?”

She looks up at you, alarmed that you caught on so fast, and you just shake your head at her. You dig into your backpack, take out some cookies you baked the night before. They were supposed to be for all the kids today, but they’ve all left and Max needs them more right now. “Here, take these. Go to the left stairwell, next to the choir room. No one goes there during lunch, it’s quiet.”

“Thank you,” Max exhales with relief, taking the baked goods from you. Tears lump in her throat, she doesn’t know how you always manage to do this. To see through her, always say the right thing.

“Of course, my dear.” You risk touching her face, she’s cold, but she closes her eyes and breathes in at the comfort. “I expect to see you at Bookstrordinary after school today, though.”

Somehow Max laughs, and the action hurts her to do so. It’s becoming harder and harder to bear the sound of her own happiness. But she nods at you, understanding that it’s an order she can’t disobey, and leaves.

Then it’s just you at the lunch table. Alone.

Nancy is at yearbook, she’s told you all about her grand plan of reforming the club into something more than just homecoming polls and gossip panels. Robin is at yet another band practice, preparing for the annual back to school pep rally later this week. Steve is at Family Video, bored out of his mind, both of you wishing he were here instead.

And Jonathan is across the country, at an entirely different school, aching to be near you again.

The thought of him in California only intensifies the loneliness that you feel. The feeling overwhelms you, and before it can swallow you whole, you dig through your backpack once more. Your fingers shake as you rustle through the notebooks and textbooks, and they clutch desperately at your walkman when you finally find it. The mixtape Jonathan made for you before he left sits within it.

You quickly place the headphones over your head, muffling the sounds of the cafeteria around you. Your fingers find the play button with practiced ease, and soon the beginning notes of the Beatles play through the wire and into your headphones.

The song soothes you, it quiets what you don’t want to hear; it makes you smile. The mixtape is all you’ve been listening to ever since Jonathan left. Though it can never replace his presence, it’s enough for now.

You stare at the empty seats around you. John Lennon’s voice floats through your ears.

Welcome to senior year.

–

Miraculously, it’s Nancy you lean on the most as the autumn leaves turn orange and the summer’s heat dies down. She finds you later during your first week, grabbing lunch from your locker, and she stops you.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to spend another lunch alone.” Nancy has never been one to greet someone. She always gets straight to the point, a quality that you normally admire.

However, you feel embarrassment rise within you, slightly off put by the cruel words. Sure, you’re not necessarily thrilled that you’ve spent your first few days of senior year alone, but you didn’t need Nancy reminding you of that. “Hello to you too, Nance.”

“Shit, I didn’t mean to offend you.” She holds her notebook close to her chest and looks down in shame. It’s weird, there’s a distance between you that has only seemed to widen despite how hard the two of you try to bridge it. For a while things were good, great, even. She was genuinely your friend, but sometimes insecurities can hurt the ones people love the most.

“Not really sure how I was meant to take that.” You close your locker and try to excuse yourself. You’re exhausted, you hardly slept the night before. “Look, I should go. I stayed up all night working on stupid college applications and I just… I’m tired.”

Nancy’s posture straightens, eager to grab onto any opportunity to amend things with you. “I can read over whatever you have.” When you raise your eyebrows at her, she quickly backtracks, worried she’s overstepped. “I–I mean, that is, if you want. Not that you need the help! It’s just–”

She forces herself to stop. She’s rushing her words, messing it all up. Her shoulders drop, Nancy takes a deep breath and looks you in the eye. She never apologized for her words earlier this summer. The way she sneered venom at you, but she’s carried the guilt of it ever since. “I’m… trying. I promise I am.”

Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers have never handled vulnerability well. It’s what made you stand out against them, set you apart, and you can’t help but find this quality in them endearing. You know that Nancy is trying to go back to how things were, before one phone call between the two of you revealed the unspoken resentment she held.

You never blamed her for any of it. But you know she blames herself, and Jonathan’s absence doesn’t help; both of you miss him, neither of you can afford to lose anyone else.

So you try as well.

“I’ll let you read over what I have only if you let me read what you’ve written as well.” You nudge her shoulder with yours, getting her to finally smile. “I’m curious to see what that brain of yours has thought of already.”

Nancy laughs, relieved. “Definitely nothing as creative as whatever you’ve written.”

“We’ll see about that, Wheeler.”

Soon you find yourself in the yearbook room. Nancy introduces you to some kid named Fred, who moons over her the entire time you’re there, though she doesn’t seem to notice. She’s too busy reading through your ideas, and you find yourself admiring her side profile. The way her eyelashes kiss her brows, the soft cherry on her lips.

Nancy is beautiful. You understand how Jonathan and Fred and Steve and countless other guys in Hawkins have lost their minds over her.

You read through portions of Nancy’s writing, and the two of you sit quietly side by side editing the essays. She marks some things down, crosses out some lines, and you do the same. It’s lovely, being by her side again. You hadn’t realized just how much you missed her following the events of this summer.

“So, New York University, huh?” Nancy eventually breaks the silence.

You nod, humming as you skim over a line that you particularly like. Circling it, you respond. “Yeah, it’s been my dream school ever since I was young.”

Though you’re applying to other schools as well. A few state schools, some in Virginia, close to your father. But New York is truly where you hope you’ll be next fall.

“Jonathan mentioned that you like psychology, right?”

“Yup,” you cross out an extra word. “Particularly child psychology. Figured that after everything we’ve been through, especially the kids, it’d be useful if at least one of us has any idea what’s going on inside our minds.”

Nancy chuckles. “Fair.”

It falls quiet again, but you don’t want the peace to end. “I heard from Jonathan that you’re looking into Emerson.”

“He tells you everything, doesn’t he?” Though this time Nancy’s question is asked with fondness, slight exasperation and humor mixed in.

“Mhm, we’re a package deal. You tell one of us something, then the other is bound to know eventually.” You look up at Nancy and lightly touch her arm. “Though he still keeps some things from me when it comes to you, don’t worry.”

She laughs again, and finally you allow the silence to settle upon you. It’s a comfortable one. There isn’t a tension underlying it. For the first time in a long time, you’re able to simply sit next to Nancy and feel that she wants you there with her.

After that day, you and Nancy spend almost every lunch period helping each other with your applications.

Steve helps you, too. In his own ways.

While he can’t help you write the essays, he lets you call him at two in the morning to rattle off application ideas so you won’t forget them. He doesn’t complain when you wake him up and he has an early shift the next day. Instead, he listens. Steve offers you his own tired input and indulges in whatever you need to feel that you’ll succeed; he’s the most doting, patient boyfriend you could ever ask for.

And, secretly, Steve adores it. Especially when you call him some nights just to have him come over and hold you.

Those are his favorite nights. Tonight is one of them.

“Why does college exist?” Your cheek is pressed against Steve’s chest as you lay in your bed together. The steady rise and fall of his breathing is melodic.

He plays with a strand of your hair, you feel him shrug. “‘Dunno, but you’re almost done.”

“Yeah, just have one more application to send before I get to spend four agonizing months waiting to find out if I even get in. How fun.” Sarcasm drips from your lips. You’ve spent the last two months obsessing over it all, which words to write in your essays, which clubs to join, which teachers to beg for recommendation letters.

And now you have one application left. Then you’ll be forced to wait, without any control of the inevitable outcome.

You’ve never been someone comfortable with letting go of control.

“Everything will be fine, angel. NYU would be stupid not to let you in.” Steve reassures you with a kiss to your temple, then to your cheek, the tip of your nose, the dip of your brows. As he kisses you, he envisions doing this a year from now, in a small, rundown apartment with sirens wailing outside and a fire escape that creaks in the wind. The song of New York City.

Eventually Steve’s lips will find yours, and the conversation will be long forgotten. It’s how most of your nights end now, lost in the kisses as his breath mixes with yours. Hands will wander. Sighs will leave parted mouths. Quiet, soft, aware of the precariously thin walls.

You haven't slept with Steve, at least not yet. Though you’ve been together a few months now, it still feels too soon. He’s your first boyfriend, your first kiss, your first real love, and Steve doesn’t want to rush you. If all you ever do together is lazily kiss and breathe each other in, then Steve will happily part your lips with his and draw soft sighs out from you.

In the morning you’ll awake with Steve’s lips on your neck, his eyes shining up at you, and in the morning sunlight, before you’ve fully woken up, the air between you is sacred.

–

“I sent in my final application,” you’re whispering, not wanting to wake up your mom who has fallen asleep on the couch. It’s nearly midnight in Indiana, but in California it’s only nine and Jonathan has just finished his school work for the night. “NYU, it’s done.”

On the other end you hear shuffling as Jonathan leans against his kitchen wall. Will sits at the table with El, he sketches the early stages of a painting and she studies grammar. Jonathan watches them, his mom is in bed, and he forgets for a moment that he’s on the phone with you.

“Bee?” You say the childhood name so softly, so tenderly with concern, and it brings Jonathan back to himself.

“I’m here, sorry.” He clears his throat, his head is still slightly muffled. Jonathan met a guy in woodshop this week, his name is Argyle, and somehow during lunch he found himself in the back of the guy’s van with a blunt hanging loosely from his lips. The smoke dulled the ache of missing Nancy, of missing you. Jonathan can’t tell you this, though. You’d kill him, and he hates disappointing you. “What were you saying?”

You frown slightly, he sounds different. There’s something in his voice, it’s raspy and he sounds distant. The sound is lonely, he sounds lonely. Jonathan isn’t really here, despite the fact that he’s talking to you. The last few phone calls have been like this. You don’t know what to do.

When Jonathan left, the two of you promised to call each other every Friday, a compromise. A way to create distance, yet tether you to each other. Jonathan calls you every Friday, Nancy gets him every day the rest of the week, and it works. This is how it’s always been ever since early September.

At first you guys would talk about how your weeks had gone. Jonathan would complain about the California heat and you would tell him about how Mike and Lucas had crashed your date with Steve one night. Laughter would float over the telephone lines. Teasing, whispered “I miss you’s” and spoken goodbyes with the promise of talking again next week.

But last week when you called, the teasing was gone. The laughter was minimal. You had complained about an exam that day and Jonathan had given one word responses that had worried you. It had been odd, but you thought that maybe he’d been tired that day. Everyone has a bad day, you know this.

Yet it’s Friday again and Jonathan couldn’t feel farther away from you.

“I mailed my NYU application in, bee. You send in yours yet?” Voice light, cheery. You do what you can to try and keep him afloat. You try to grasp at the good that’s left between you. Remind Jonathan that you’re right here, still with him, without scaring him away. “You remember our plan, right? Me and you in New York, together.”

Since you were kids the plan has always been to go to college together. Back then, neither of you could fathom a reason to ever be apart. You were invincible, the same way all kids think they are before the world tells them otherwise.

But you and Jonathan aren’t invincible, you never were.

You can hear the way your question suffocates him. The breath that he holds, stilted and torn, suffocates you as well.

Nausea punches Jonathan, the smoke from earlier suddenly fogs his throat. He doesn’t know what to do. Nancy wants him to go to Emerson with her, he promised you NYU when he was twelve, and California has his mother and Will.

“Yeah, yeah. I–I mean, I sent mine in. Last week.”

Jonathan is lying. You’ve known him for almost six years; he always stumbles over his words when he lies.

Part of you wants to ask him why he’s doing this, lying to you and pulling away. Another part of you, the larger, more naive part, doesn’t want to believe it. You clear your throat, swallow down the hurt, and choose naivety. “Oh,” your tone is too pinched, too put together. You clear your throat again. “That’s–that’s great! I, um. Surprised you didn’t read the essays to me. Have me edit them, like we’ve always done.”

Jonathan leans his head against the wall and squeezes his eyes shut. He’s never been able to lie to you, he knows you’re desperately trying to overcompensate, as you always do. He hates it. He hates himself. “Yeah, well. Got excited, I guess.”

You hum, words failing you, and the line goes silent.

Dread replaces the laughter that night.

–

Before you know it, it’s Halloween and the party has infiltrated Steve’s house.

The holiday falls on a Saturday, and the party deems itself too old to trick or treat. When they find out that Steve’s parents won’t be home that weekend, they demand to spend the night at his house and watch horror movies.

Steve fights back, complains that he doesn’t want them taking over his living room, but his complaints fall on deaf ears. That, and Dustin ropes Robin into their plans.

“Oh, God. Don’t open the door!” Dustin shrieks, throwing popcorn at Steve’s TV as he covers his eyes with a blanket. He cowers against Lucas, who shoves him off, and Mike snickers. Max sits on the couch, outside of their fort, and watches the boys. None of them try to get her to sit with them. They know they’re lucky that she even showed in the first place.

“I can’t look.” Robin’s voice carries over, you can almost picture her cringing as she holds a pillow to her chest. Mike chose a particularly gory movie, and the kid’s mind frightens her.

A loud crash sounds, then a woman screams. You figure the protagonist did open the door and has now died, though you can’t be sure. You’re in the kitchen with Steve, taking out the final batch of oatmeal raisin cookies from the oven. The smell wafts through the home, bringing warmth to a house that Steve has always found cold, and he places his hands on your hips.

“You spoil the kids too much,” he presses his nose against your cheek and kisses you. “They invade my home and you bake them delicious goods.”

You set the tray of cookies down onto the counter. “As if the cookies aren’t for you, too.”

“That isn’t important. We’re focusing on my hostage house, Y/N.”

“‘Hostage house’, quite the alliteration there.”

Steve now kisses your neck, distracting you as you plate the cookies. “I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

“Don’t make me come in there!” Dustin screams, and Robin echoes him with her own disgusted yelling.

You laugh at their theatrics while Steve rolls his eyes. He really hates that his house has become the party’s source of entertainment. He just wants to compliment his beautiful girlfriend in peace. Who would punish a guy for that?

In his moping Steve almost misses you walking back into the living room. He follows, stumbles over his feet, never wanting to be more than a few inches away from you. You’re magnetic, always pulling him in.

Mike is the first to grab a handful of cookies. Lucas and Dustin follow quickly after. They shove the food into their mouths and you scoff at their lack of manners. They’re such boys, growing taller every day, and they’re just as disgusting as they were when they were kids.

“Want one, Max?” You hold the plate up to her, noticing that she hasn’t moved from her seat. She shakes her head at you, eyes never leaving the screen. Lucas and you share a look, the same concerned expression on your faces.

The moment is broken by Robin, who grabs a cookie and practically melts. “Holy shit, Y/N. You bake these regularly?”

“Usually once a week,” you shrug at her. “Though I once baked six batches during finals week.”

“God, that was a good week.” Dustin hums, lost in the blissful memory.

Robin grabs your arm, eyes wide with enthusiasm. “I will give you my firstborn child in exchange for my own batch of cookies.”

Steve pokes her shoulder. “You already promised your firstborn to me after I agreed to cover your weekend shift.”

“I can have twins.”

You laugh at her. “That’s a terrifying thought.”

Robin sticks her tongue out at you, causing you to laugh even more, and Mike puts the next movie on. Everyone settles back down, you lay with Steve in the lovechair with Robin in front of you. Max has the couch to herself, the boys are sprawled on the floor in a mess of pillows and blankets, and for the first time in months you feel a certain warmth having your family together.

Sometime during the night the clock strikes twelve.

It’s November 1st, 1985.

Steve’s nineteenth birthday.

Robin snores softly on the ground, arm underneath her head as a makeshift pillow. Mike, Dustin, and Lucas are all curled up against one another, their faces young again. Max sleeps softly on the couch, her hand dangles over the edge, grazing Lucas’ outstretched arm and open palm.

Steve lays beneath you, he isn’t quite asleep yet. You’ve come to learn the rhythm of his breaths as he sleeps. The way they slow, the pattern steady. You lift your head up, wanting to admire him, and find that he’s already looking at you.

“Hi, angel.” He whispers, smiling sweetly.

You smile back, you always smile back at him. “Hi, honey.” Doing your best to remain quiet, you crawl up the length of Steve and nuzzle your way into his neck. You kiss the dip just above his collarbone, causing him to shiver. “Happy birthday.”

Arms encase you, pull you deeper into the body you lay on. Steve’s body heat warms your face, warms your bones, and you wish you could stay like this forever. In Steve’s arms, the scent of him overwhelming your mind, his touch calming you.

“Thank you,” he kisses the top of your head. He lingers, his lips soft. The two of you stay like this, his head against yours, your chin tucked into the alcove of his neck. Your breathing syncs with his, his fingers trail up and down your spine. Your fingers splay over his chest, warming his ribs.

In the morning, Max wakes everyone up.

“My mom will be worried,” she kicks Mike, nudges Lucas’ shoulder. “Wake up, idiots.”

Steve groans, squinting his eyes against the morning light. He tries to roll over and block it out and nearly shoves you off the seat in the process. “Steve!” He manages to catch you in his sleepy state, but his movements are slow.

“Sorry!”

You clutch your chest, heart pounding. “You’ve done that way too many times now. I’m starting to think you want to throw me onto the ground.”

“Lucas once promised he could catch me if I jumped into his arms.” Max says, then she points to a scar on her knee. “Turned out he couldn’t.”

“Hey!” Lucas sits up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “I really thought I could do it.”

Mike stretches. “Your fault for trusting him, Max.”

Lucas shoves him and the two start to wrestle on the floor. They’re a tangle of lanky limbs, knocking into Dustin who still hasn’t woken up yet. They roll on top of the boy, and he wakes up to Lucas’ knee in his face. “What the hell?”

Dustin joins the fighting now, and Robin throws a pillow at them. “Guys! It’s too early for this!”

They don’t listen.

It takes a lot of pleading, negotiating, and bribes in order to break the fight up. It takes even longer to wrangle the kids out of Steve’s home, much to his dismay. They leave a mess of strewn popcorn all over the carpet and pillows missing feathers. You stay behind, offering to help clean the mess, and Robin rushes out an apology and happy birthday to Steve as she runs out the door to get to work.

Until Richard and May Harrington walk in.

Neither of you notice them at first. Steve is too busy spinning you around, playfully dipping you as the music comes to a grand crescendo. You’re laughing breathlessly, but soon your laughter turns into a yelp when Steve sees his parents standing in the doorway and drops you.

“Dad!” Steve immediately bends down to pick you up, endlessly apologetic. He ducks his head, eyes on you, though his body doesn’t turn from his father. “I’m sorry, angel. You alright?”

You reassure your boyfriend that you’re fine, more worried about the fact that you’re dressed in clothes from yesterday with horrendous bedhead meeting his parents for the first time. Richard eyes you in Steve’s arms. He has a look of disinterest on his face. “Son.”

“What, uh.” Steve clears his throat, curls a protective arm around your waist. He didn’t mean for this to happen. His parents were supposed to be gone until Tuesday. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here.”

“Right.”

Father and son stand in front of one another. Neither speaks. Steve feels like a little boy again, scrutinized underneath his father’s intense gaze. Never good enough. Never worthy of anything other than berating and lectures.

You wring your hands nervously, unsure what to do. The air is thick. Steve looks so much like his father, it’s almost uncanny. They have the same build, the same moles that dot along their handsome faces. Only his father is dressed in a suit, the lines in his face are hard, weathered. He’s who you picture Steve would’ve been, in a different universe where you were never his friend.

May Harrington gave her son all of her delicate features. The soft turn of his nose. The plush, pink lips. His doe eyes, his smile. The only feature that separates her from her son is her honey blonde hair. She’s beautiful, elegant and poised, and when she steps towards you, you can smell lavender perfume. “You must be Y/N. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Hi, Mrs. Harrington.” You’re quick to meet her where she stands. You’re nervous, you have to discreetly wipe your hand on your pants before shaking hers. “It’s so wonderful to finally meet you. Your banana bread is lovely.”

The woman smiles, it’s so much like Steve’s that you want to cry. “Thank you, dear.”

“Of course, and I apologize for meeting like this. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Richard makes a mean, gruff sound. He shakes his head, steps next to his wife. He doesn’t like you, you can feel it by the way he blocks his wife’s view of you. “Oh, no. I’m sure you didn’t.”

“Dad–” Steve steps forward as well, blocking his father’s view of you. He’s angry, his shoulder blades close together. He doesn’t like how the man is treating you; you’re too good for such cruelty.

“What did I tell you about bringing your hookups to the house, son?” Richard sneers, turning his nose up at you. That’s all he sees you as. Just another one of Steve’s flings, one of the girls from his past.

“Y/N is not just some hookup,” Steve clenches his jaw, tries to steady his breathing. He doesn’t want to fight with his dad in front of you. Not when he was having such a good morning, spending his birthday with your hands wrapped around his neck and your giggles singing in his ears. “She’s my girlfriend, and I love her.”

Richard chuckles, he doesn’t believe his son. “Okay, you love her. I’m sure your mother and I will walk in on you with some new girl next week.”

“Dear,” May places a hand on her husband’s shoulder. She sees the way you shrink into yourself at the man’s words. The insecurity that he brings. She sees how her son’s eyes ignite with fury, she watches as he does whatever he can to put the flame out for her sake and yours. “It’s Steve’s birthday today.”

“Is that why you insisted on coming home today?” Richard turns to her, she has his full attention now. His eyebrows are drawn together, annoyance paints his body. “You told me you had a board meeting tonight.”

“Why don’t we talk about this upstairs?�� May suggests, relieved that she’s turned her husband’s anger onto herself rather than her son. Richard sighs, but he doesn’t argue as he marches up the stairs without so much as a second glance towards you. When he’s gone, May smiles at you sympathetically. “I apologize for my husband’s behavior. We had a long flight, I’m sure he’s simply jetlagged.”

“Yeah, that’s why he’s such an asshole.” Steve scoffs, tired of his mother’s excuses for her husband. He can be cruel to Steve, he doesn’t care. He’s been cruel to him his entire life. But if his father so much as breathes near you again, Steve will hurt him.

Your hand reaches for Steve’s, sensing what he’s thinking. You return May’s smile, you’re not at all angry with her. “It’s okay, really. I was an unexpected guest, and I should go.”

Steve pulls you into his chest. “What, no–”

“You may leave, if you’d like.” His mother gently interrupts him. “Though I must admit, I really do wish to know you better. If you’d allow me to, that is.”

“I’d love that more than anything.”

“Then I will plan a dinner for the next time my husband and I are in town.” May tells you, admiring your honesty. She can see why Steve has become so infatuated with you. There’s nothing hidden within you; you wear your heart on your sleeve, your sincerity a welcomed rarity. She turns to her son, rests her palm delicately against his face. “Happy birthday, my beautiful boy.”

Steve leans into her touch, weak for his mother as any son is. You turn away, it doesn’t feel right to watch this moment between them.

In the car Steve profusely apologizes for his father’s behavior. Over and over again, he laments how sorry he is and that you’re more than just some fling to him. “You’re everything to me, angel. I love you so, so much.”

“I know, honey.” You grab his hand that rests against the stick shift. His father’s words had hurt, but you knew that they weren’t true. Steve is yours, he has been for longer than either of you realize. Nothing will ever undo the love he has for you, the foundation of trust it was built upon. “You’re everything to me, too.”

When Steve pulls into your driveway, you tell him to park and come inside. His birthday gift is in your room. You had planned to give it to him later tonight, but his parents’ unexpected arrival had soured things. “I know you have to go home, but…”

“I’ll never say no to you.” Steve’s already unbuckling his seatbelt to follow you inside. He greets your mother with a kiss to her cheek, ruffles Dustin’s hair as he sits at the dining table doing homework. His movements are easy, leisurely. You notice now how at home he is in yours, far from the boy who cowered before his father only twenty minutes ago. The realization is bittersweet. He deserves to feel at home in his own house, not just yours.

Inside your room Steve sits on your bed and holds his hand out, eager. “Okay, wow me, Henderson.”

“You really know how to talk to a woman.” You tease him, rustling through your drawer to find the gift you’ve hidden. Steve is nosy, he’s been trying to find his gift for at least two weeks now. When you’ve found it, you clutch the gift in your hand and hold it behind your back. “Alright, you know the drill by now. Close your eyes.”

Steve complies with a smirk, biting back suggestive comments. He loves this tradition with you, making the other close their eyes before their gift. Something light is placed in Steve’s hand. It’s circular, sturdy. He thinks he can smell leather.

“Okay, open.”

In his hand is a bracelet. It’s a simple strip of leather, nothing embellishes it besides a button to secure it. Though it’s plain, Steve can tell that it’s expensive. The leather is supple, its color is dark and polished. The silver button that clasps the two ends together is heavy.

He loves it, he does, but he can’t help feeling like that there must be something more to it.

As if reading his mind, you gently prompt Steve to turn it over in his hands. “Look what’s on the inside, honey.”

He does, and his heart stops.

The leather has been stamped. The word constants is spelled out across the length of the band. It’s a hidden message, only for Steve to know, and while he’s sure you have your own explanation for why you chose the word constants, he loves it already. “Oh.”

You sit next to him and laugh softly. “You’re my constant, Steve. Everything in my life has changed, or will change, but you… You’ve always been there, I know you’ll always be there. With me. My love, my lucky charm, my constant.”

Tears well in Steve’s eyes. He doesn’t bother wiping them away, too busy admiring the bracelet in his hand. He can’t believe you’re real, that you’ve thought of this for him. That you see a future with him… It’s everything he could’ve asked for. A security he’s always longed to have. His entire life he’s been told he’s too much, too overwhelming, and yet you want him to stay anyways.

“And you’re my constant?” He asks you, fingers grazing over the letters again.

You nudge his shoulder with yours. “Well, I’d like to think that I am.”

He laughs, wet and full of love, and he can’t take it anymore. Steve throws his arms over you and you collapse into your bed, laughing together as he presses his lips wherever they can reach.

“You are,” he says in between kisses. Your laughter lights him. “You’re my constant, too.”

–

The autumn leaves fall and the trees are barren as winter arrives.

You spend winter break trying to maintain your promise to Joyce. After finishing the hell that was applying to college, you have so much unexpected free time that at first you don't know what to do. But then her words echo in your mind, the promise to live the life that you deserve, so you start doing things for yourself.

Slowly you read through all the books in your room that you hadn't had time for before. You start running again in the mornings, the winter air crisp in your lungs. You and Dustin do homework together at the kitchen table, making sure neither of you get left behind. You try new recipes to bake, delivering the treats to the ones you love. It’s nice, rediscovering the pleasures you once had long before the Upside Down came into your life.

Christmas comes and you do your annual rounds, delivering everyone’s favorite treats on Christmas Eve. It’s during your run to the Sinclair home that Lucas asks you to come inside to talk.

“What’s up?” You ask him, unwrapping your scarf and warming your hands in your sleeves. Lucas gestures to his kitchen table, silently asking you to sit. When you do, he takes a deep breath and joins you.

Something’s bothering him. You can see it in the way he carries a weight on his shoulders. How they droop as he sits, exhausted. You reach across the table and grab his hand, offering whatever comfort you can give him. “Whatever it is, you can talk to me.”

“It’s…” Lucas purses his lips, his breath shakes. “It’s Max. I’m–I’m worried about her.”

He tells you everything. He tells you how distant she’s been, more than she’s ever been before. He tells you how she’s missed dates he’s planned for her, how she refuses to talk to him anymore. She hasn’t been to any of the party’s hangouts, Mike and Dustin haven’t seen her ever since winter break started.

Max has had bad days, weeks, even months since losing Billy. But she’s never had the bad days without at least one good day following. To break the monotonous cycle of self-loathing and grief and guilt. She would always come back, even if for a moment, alive and bright and reminiscent of the girl had been.

“I can feel her slipping away,” Lucas looks down at the table. He’s afraid that if he looks at you then he’ll start crying. He doesn’t want you to worry, he knows how much you already deal with and do for them, but he’s terrified. “I know… I know that you helped Will, after he was flayed. Do you think you could maybe talk to Max? Just… Remind her that we’re here for her? I can’t–I can’t lose her.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” you squeeze his hand in yours, trying to stem the stream of tears he fought so hard to force down. Lucas loves Max with everything within him. Anyone can see that. You’d do anything to bring the girl back to him, to bring her back to all of you. “I’ll talk to her.”

I’ll keep an eye on her. Watch her when you can’t.

Lucas hears it. He exhales, nods his head.

You leave. Max was the next one on your list of deliveries anyways.

It’s nearing dusk by the time you get to the trailer park. You haven’t seen Max’s new home, she’s only recently moved. She had been too embarrassed to tell anyone that her mother lost their old house. The only reason you even know she moved in the first place is because Lucas and Dustin stalked her walking home.

A dog barks as you bike past. Snow has started to fall, tomorrow will be a white Christmas.

“Oh, hello, Y/N.” Susan Hargrove’s skin is pale, her eyes sunken in when she answers the door. Her voice is thin, her frame is strained. The death has been hard on her, too. Billy’s father leaving only made everything worse.

“Hi, Mrs. Hargrove.”

The woman winces. “Please, Mayfield will be fine.”

You immediately correct yourself, apologetic and ashamed, when Max’s voice calls from within the home. “Just let Y/N in, mom.”

Susan sighs, and you wish you could do more. Instead, all you can offer her is the container of coconut bites you’ve made for them. Max told you they remind her and her mother of California, and you always make sure to have some ready every week for them. Offer some semblance of joy in the gray of their lives.

Max sits at the kitchen table. Her head is down as she works on something. She has her walkman next to her. Susan leaves the two of you alone, excusing herself to go lay down after a long shift.

You sit next to the girl and take a deep breath. This won’t be easy. Max is prideful, stubbornly independent, and has never accepted sympathy from anyone. You’ve always admired her fiery personality, but the fire has dimmed and the smoke is beginning to choke her. Talking to her will be like pulling teeth out.

“Brought you your favorites.” You shake the container in your hands. It serves as a peace offering, almost a bribe to start the conversation.

“Thanks.” Max doesn’t look up.

You swallow, tuck your hair behind your ears. “Of course. I was doing my usual delivery rounds. I, uh. Stopped at the Sinclair’s.”

The pencil in Max’s hand freezes. Her knuckles tighten, though the shift is subtle. She’s always been too smart for her own good. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Erica likes my brownies. Mrs. Sinclair, too.”

“And Lucas?” She knows why you’re here.

“I made him chocolate chip cookies. You know how much he loves them.” Max doesn’t respond. Of course she knows how much Lucas enjoys chocolate chip cookies. She knows everything about him, but she doesn’t say anything and goes back to writing. Faintly you hear music coming from the walkman. You point at the device. “New song?”

“Kate Bush.”

“Oh.” This is going worse than you imagined. “Look, Max–”

She doesn’t waste any time. “I know Lucas sent you. I don’t care.”

“He’s just worried about you, we all are–”

“I’m fine.” The tip of the pencil snaps. “Shit.”

“Max.” You’re pleading with her to listen. Her skin is fluorescent now, paler than you’ve ever seen. The bags underneath her eyes are swollen, dark and ghostly. She’s lost weight. You can’t remember the last time you saw her eat. “Please.”

“What do you want me to do?” Though there’s anger in her voice, Max’s eyes plead with you, too. Her mask slips for just a moment, but you see it. Underneath her indifferent exterior, she’s just as terrified as everyone else is. She can feel herself fading, the guilt of Billy’s death slowly eats her alive. She doesn’t know what to do, though. How do you continue to live after death has infiltrated your home?

The chair beneath you scraps against the hardwood floor. You stand up, walk over to Max and kneel in front of her. You keep your movements slow, worried you’ll scare her away if you get too close too suddenly. “I think you should talk to someone, honey.”

Max turns away. She can’t. If she told anyone what goes on inside her head, they would never forgive her. You would never forgive her, and it would break her.

Your hand falls to Max’s knee. The warmth from your palm combats the ice in her veins. You’re looking at her as if she’s worth something. As if she didn’t wish for her brother’s death. As if she hadn’t sent a grieving father into a spiral, a desperate mother into a trailer park. But Max allows your touch, so you try to get through to her again.

“You know, I was actually talking to Ms. Kelly a few weeks ago. The school’s guidance counselor.” She had met with you to discuss your grades and college options. When she had seen how you picked your nails until they bled, she suggested seeing her every few weeks. Alleviate some of your never ending stress. You had denied, uncomfortable with the idea. But maybe she could help Max. “She seemed nice enough. I’m sure she would be open to talking with you.”

“I don’t want to see some shrink.”

“Hey, I want to work with kids your age someday. Don’t call future me a shrink.” You poke Max’s leg playfully, and the corners of her mouth twitch. She doesn’t want you to see that it’s working. “C’mon. Have at least one meeting with her. When winter break ends, all I ask is that you try. For me and Lucas. We’re your favorites, after all.”

“If I agree, will it get you to shut up?”

You’re fine with this. It isn’t ideal, you aren’t sure Max will even actually try to open up to Ms. Kelly, but it’s a start. For too long now you’ve stayed silent, allowing Max to grieve on her own. Grief is hard, it takes and it takes and it takes. Yet it’s been almost six months and you’re not sure how much left grief can take from Max. “I think I can be okay with that.”

You’ll take whatever you can get. You’re worried. You got too caught up in your own life, you had gotten lost in your own haze of grief and anxiety. Missing Jonathan, grappling with change and growing up as you applied to college. You weren’t there for Max like you should’ve been.

But you’ll fix this. You always fix things. It’s what you do. It’s what you have to do. It’s how you love; you take care of those around you.

And who are you if you can’t?

–

Jonathan calls you high for the first time in late January.

Though he doesn’t tell you that he’s high, you know. His words are slurred, slowed, incomprehensible. It’s late in California, even later in Indiana, and the stark feeling of guilt slices into your ribcage the same way the Demodog’s claw did. The feeling cuts deep into your skin, nicks your bone.

“Jonathan?” You hope your voice brings him back to you. You try to cut through the smoke that fills his mind, that leaves him stumbling over his words. “Bee, can you hear me?”

“‘M here.” Jonathan sniffs, smacks his lips, yawns. “Where’re you? Can’t find you, bug.”

You close your eyes. He’s looking for you, and you aren’t with him. “I’m in Hawkins.”

“Thas’ far.”

“Yeah,” you choke out a laugh. It constricts in your vocal chords, but you can’t let Jonathan know how much it hurts to hear him so disoriented. “I’m sorry.”

“S’okay. California sucks.” He hiccups, you’re surprised he’s managed to call you tonight. Even in his drugged up state, he still somehow remembered to call. “Don’t think Nance will like it.”

He’s referring to the spring break trip. Nancy told you about it earlier today, how she and Mike will spend the week in California to see Jonathan and El. She had been a bit hesitant to tell you, afraid you’d be upset for not being invited, but you reassured her that it was okay.

You’ve had a road trip planned with Jonathan ever since you were fifteen. The moment the two of you graduate, you’ll drive all across the country for one final adventure before college.

Nancy can have spring. Summer will be yours.

“She’ll love California because you’re there.” She talked about the trip nonstop today. Her glow had come back, momentarily, her eyes alight. She truly loves Jonathan, she misses him even more than you do.

“Only disappoint her.”

“What do you mean?” You’re not sure where this is coming from. You know Jonathan is high, that his thoughts may not be coherent, but he sounds distressed about Nancy. You thought things had been good between them. They were planning a future together.

“Is’ hard, with her.” Jonathan manages to get out, but his speech is becoming harder and harder to understand.

You frown. “What’s hard, bee?”

The line disconnects. Jonathan doesn’t bring the conversation up again, the next time you call. You don’t ask him what he meant. You don’t think you want to know. There had been something deeper behind his words.

Will calls you a few days later in tears. The kids are meaner in California than they are in Hawkins. They tease El, make her life hell, and he’s upset that he can’t do anything to stop it. He cries to you, his tears soak your face through the landline, and the guilt creeps back in.

It will never truly leave.

You do your best to console him, offer him advice, but that’s all you can do. All you have are your words. Will and El are hours away, hundreds of miles separate them from you. It's nauseating, feeling so useless. For as long as you’ve known Will, you’ve always been able to protect him. To help him, dry his eyes.

You’ve always been there for your boys, for Jonathan and Will. For El. But you can’t get to them, they’re too far away, and it kills you. You’re sixteen again, trapped in Jonathan’s car and frantically trying to keep yourself together as everything around you falls apart.

Steve becomes your lifeline.

He always answers when you call. Every time Jonathan, high and lonely, hangs up your conversations, you call Steve. He answers, he hears the exhaustion in your voice, and he always sneaks in through your window later that night. He knows it’s the only way you’re able to sleep these days.

He sings to you when you wake up from a nightmare. They’ve become about Max, losing her. She’s only met with Ms. Kelly a few times, but you can tell that she already wants to stop. That you’re pushing her too far, pushing her away from you and everyone else.

Steve takes you for drives when you get blisters from pacing your room, anxiously waiting for your college decision letters to come in. Soon your entire life will be decided for you by one single piece of paper.

Two weeks before spring break, Jonathan calls you. He’s sober.

You can’t remember the last time you’ve spoken to him sober. The thought alone depresses you, makes you yearn for childhood again.

“I think Nancy wants me to come to Hawkins,” he tells you. “Would you… would you like that?”

More than anything.

You press the phone against your ear and imagine that it’s Jonathan’s hand instead. Your skin hasn’t forgotten how his felt against it. “Of course I want you to come to Hawkins, bee.” But it can’t be that easy, you know nothing ever comes easily. “Can you afford it, though? I–I mean, God. I miss you, you know that, but I know it’s been hard for your family these last few years.”

Jonathan’s head falls back against the wall behind him. You always understand. He hates it, sometimes. “It’s worth looking into if it means I get to see you and Nance.”

There’s an air of authority in Jonathan’s voice, as if he truly believes what he’s saying, and it surprises you. He’s taking initiative after months of floating away. Hope sparks within you, the cold hand of dread lessens its grip around your neck.

“Well, I can’t argue with that logic.” You say. Jonathan laughs, you’ve missed the sound. It’s been so long since you last heard it.

Conversation drifts after that. You tell him about the latest Spider-Man arc you’re reading, he inserts his own opinions, and it’s lovely. You haven’t had Jonathan like this in months, all to yourself, his smile aligned with yours. Sober, steady.

The phone call with Jonathan reminds you of all the good that is still yet to come.

College decision letters arrive next week. Your best friend might be visiting for spring break. Your boyfriend has planned a picnic for your anniversary tomorrow. You have your first meeting with Ms. Kelly the following day. It was your idea, figuring it was only fair that you see her since Max has agreed to keep going.

And Joyce made you promise that you’d live your own life. You’re trying to get better, you really are.

It just takes time.

⌑ 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

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #nya #m's writing #im so scared for season 4 bro #also less steve centered chapter i apologize class

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rhyrhy · 3 months ago

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“'Cause we're way too involved, just to cut and not call”

Situationship! Abby Drabble

࣪𖤐.ᐟ Warnings: none, just two idiots pining, fluff, 2k words. IFY This was 110% Inspired by this — more Abby here — same AU

The sound of Abby’s door clicking shut behind you was second nature by now. You’d met her after being transferred to the WLF base. thrown into a new routine, a new home, with new faces. Eyes feeling- no, knowing you are sizing you up. And hers, Abby, had been one of them. What started as a proper passing familiarity. working the same routes, seeing her in the gym, nodding at each other across crowded mess hall tables. had turned into nights spent in her room, pretending it was casual.

But the feelings had started to bleed through…

First, it was the small things. Redoing her braid after you’d messed it up by tugging on it all night. Jokingly calling her patrol dog, your “baby” when she curled up beside you, earning a sound of amusement from Abby. Then she’d started catching your wrist before you could slip away, her fingers firm but careful. The dim glow of a lantern casting shadows across her face as she’d murmur, “It’s late. You can head back in the morning, yeah?” Now, after weeks of being apart. separate assignments. However the pit in Abby’s stomach from your absence was impossible to ignore. Too obvious to be anything other than what it was. Or what was building.

Abby was sprawled her bed, one arm tucked behind her head, a small smile on her lips as you stepped inside.

“Hey, stranger. Starting to think you forgot about me.”

You sat beside her, the mattress dipping under your weight as her arm stretched along the back, her fingertips brushing your shoulder, resting on the fabric of your shirt. This was supposed to be easy. No strings attached. But as she laughed, her gaze lingering on yours, something soft and knowing in her expression, she realized you both were in trouble.

in deeper than either of you would admit.

“Forget about you? Please, never.” You joked, bumping her shoulder with yours. Truth was, you couldn’t even dream of forgetting about her.

Abby humed, tilting her head to the side. Her braid following her small movement. “You say that now, but you haven’t even bothered to check in for almost three weeks.” There was tease lilt to her tone, but a small part of her was beginning to wonder if maybe you’d decided she wasn’t worth the trouble after all. Trying to push that past relationship troubles take over.

“Really?” You furrowed your eyebrows, thinking back to how long it had actually been. It clicked She was…counting? Regardless she was right. yes, it had been awhile. “Oh… shit, I’m sorry, Abs. Got busy, I guess?” You rubbed your arm, glancing over at her. It was a weak statement but it’s all you could mutter out.

Abby rolled her eyes, nudging you with her knee. “Busy, huh? Couldn’t even leave a note or something?” She gave you a pointed look, pouting dramatically. “Im offended.” But as she took in your sheepish expression, her gaze softened. Her bottom lip out.

“Hey! Don’t do that. You’re a horrible communicator too, and you know it,” you chuckled, reaching out to tilt her face toward you with a finger under her chin. Scanning over the new scar on the side of her cheek.

Abby scoffed, still faking offense. “Oh, so now it’s my fault, huh?”

She smirked as your fingers gently lifted her chin, her eyes meeting yours. A familiar spark flickered between you, something that felt like it was always standing behind you. Looming.

You nodded jokingly, scanning her face again. “Mhm. I’m soo not taking accountability here.”

Abby rolled her eyes again, but there was a mischievous glint in them. She pouted again, though this time it was clearly more playful than serious. “Oh really? I see how it is.” She leaned into your touch, her voice much quieter than before. Fingers twitching to reach over and hold you more.

You chuckled, brushing a few loose strands of hair behind her ear before cupping her face. “Oh Yeah? You do?”

Abby’s teasing melted away the moment your hands settled on her skin. Your touch was too gentle, too easy, and it sent a shiver down her spine. She knew she should keep things light, keep up the playful air, but the way you were looking at her? Like she meant something? It was fucking terrifying. You always looked at her like that, always.

“Earth to Andersonnnn,” you teased, your thumb caressing over her cheek. Eyes on hers, like you were trying to read her thoughts.

Abby blinked, cheeks tinged with a rush of heat. She let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “Sorry, got lost in thought for a second.” Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, savoring the feel of your touch. It felt too natural. Too safe.

“I see that,” you hummed, shifting along the couch until you settled onto her lap, resting on her thighs. “Whatcha thinking about, hm?”

Abby’s hands instinctively found your hips, her grip firm but careful. The warmth of you against her sent a flood of emotions rushing through her. Ones she’d been trying to ignore for weeks, months. Ever since you first kissed her if she being completely honest with herself. Your arms around her neck, the soft sigh you let out. it wouldn’t leave her, ever.

She exhaled, her fingers absentmindedly skimming the hem of your shirt. “Nothing. Just… stuff.”

“Stuff,” you repeated, unconvinced. You sighed, resting your face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the familiar scent of pine. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop by sooner. But I… I thought about you.” Your voice was quieter now. “I promise.”

Abby’s breath caught as you nuzzled closer, her fingers tracing lazy circles along your back. She closed her eyes, relishing in your warmth, in the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against her. Worried hers was loud enough for you to hear.

“I thought about you too,” she admitted, barely above a hush. More than she should have. More than she wanted to. But admitting that meant something, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to face what that was. It screamed at her, little did she know it was mutual annoyance. That nagging to just face what was happening, like taking the sun away from a blooming flower. Forcing the petals to stay shut. She swallowed hard, gripping your waist just a little tighter.

“No, Abs… like, really missed you.” You sighed, pressing a small kiss to her shoulder before leaning back to meet her eyes. “Like more… than I should.”

Abby’s heart thumped at your words. She averted her gaze, trying to shove down the overwhelming feeling creeping up her throat. But when she felt your lips against her skin, her resolve broke. She looked at you then. really looked at you. That look you’d always given her whether you knew you were doing it or not. Your face, so open, so…unguarded. A expression she hadn’t yet memorized.

“More than you should?” she echoed, voice barely above a whisper.

You sighed, tilting your head back to stare at the ceiling. A thousand words wanted to spill but the only one you let fall was..

“Yeah.”

A long silence stretched between you, those heavy with unspoken words.

The warm of her fingers traced slow invisible patterns along your waist, her thoughts a whirlwind of emotions she didn’t know how to name. Or if she should. She took a deep breath, exhaling shakily before finally admitting, “I… I’ve missed you too. More than I should.”

You glanced back down at her, a small sigh of relief escaping your lips. “Not just me then?” you murmured, resting your forehead against hers, feeling the warmth of her breath against your skin.“Good… I feel better about that.”

Abby closed her eyes, savoring the weight of you against her, the way your fingers danced along her arm like this was something much more. “No, not just you,” she murmured, her voice softer now. She opened her eyes, searching your face for something. reassurance, maybe. A sign that this wasn’t just in her head.

You chuckled, running a hand along her arm. “I mean, you are so cute. How could I not think about your stupid face?”

Abby let out a short laugh, swatting at your arm. The tension eased just slightly. “Oh, you’re one to talk, Miss ’Too Busy to Check In,’” she teased.

“Oh, shut up! Now I’ll find you every day just to spite you. How’s that?” You grinned, tilting her face up once more, Faces much closer than before.

Abby huffed, pretending to be put off, but her heart was hammering against her ribs. “You better. I’ll be waiting for it. Every single time. No pressure, though.” She smiled, raising an eyebrow at you as your hands cupped her face. “Oh? And what else? Gonna bring me flowers too?”

You scoffed, arching a brow back at her. “Oh? What kind of flowers would Miss Anderson want?”

She pretended to think about it, tapping her chin before grinning. “Lilies. The white ones.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Lilies? That’s real romantic, Abby.” you hummed. “But I like the idea. It’s a deal then. ilies for your time.”

Abby chuckled, playfully swatting your arm. “Oh, so now it’s a trade? Fine, You’ve got yourself a deal.” Her fingers idly traced the back of your neck as she softened, her gaze stamped on yours.

“Good. You don’t have a choice anyway.” You leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. “Now, can I kiss you, or are we just gonna flirt until the sun comes up?”

Abby pretended to think about it, her fingers still playing with the hem of your shirt. “Hmm… such a hard choice.” She whispered back, but the hunger in her eyes betrayed her.

“I think I’ll go with option one. C’mere.”

Dividers

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aphroditesmoon · 1 year ago

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'cause I love this curse on our house

clarisse la rue x fem!demigod!reader

summary: !THIS WAS A REQUEST THAT I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED! the requester wanted a fic about clarisse and reader breaking up after an argument, and after months apart from eachother, reader appears at the ares cabin at 3am because she couldn't sleep without clarisse.

warnings: sparring violence, angst, hurt/comfort, arguing, fluff at the end.

a/n: im sooo sorry I accidentally deleted ur request😭🙏 but I hope this is to your liking, and thank you for your kind words🩷🎀

wc: 3.1k

"I never learned to lose a fight, I never learned to grow upright. this is who we are."

-back to you, flowerface

----

Clarisse wondered to herself, on whether or not you'd come running to her if she were to stake this spear through her chest.

Surely, you would? Sensible, independant and stubborn you.

She knew it'd take more than some flowers and half assed apology to get you to speak to her again, and with that knowledge in her head, she isn't sure what that would mean for your relationship.

Clarisse La Rue would rather die than be caught begging for your forgiveness. She would also consider maiming herself as a last resort for any problem she's ever had.

But it has been 3 months, and everyone knows about the 3 months rule.

3 months into dating, 3 months after a breakup. And yet so far, neither of you have tried to "happy new years" your way into eachother's life again.

It is a painful observation for the girl to make. And it's more painful for her to admit that she is at least 40% in the wrong.

That is the thing about the two of you, you become abrasive everytime you're upset, and Clarisse becomes confrontational everytime she is upset. On a normal day, those traits are opposite.

The truth was, Clarisse knew deep down how flawed she is as a person, and as a lover. She is a fighter at heart.

And though she'll admit, she's one of the best out there, being the daughter of a literal war god, but sometimes it feels like that's all she's good for. Does she want to love? Yes. Does she know how to? Not really.

She loves the early hours with you before everybody wakes up, trying to convince you to stay longer in her bed before you sneak out to avoid being noticed.

She loves the intimacy of your hands instinctively intertwining in a cabin party where the music is too loud and people are brushing against you in almost every corner as they try to dance or make their way out, and no one is paying attention to how her thumb caresses your knuckles.

She loves your lips, and how they feel around her neck as you bury your head in the crook of it from behind.

And at one point in the past, she loved how easy it was to be with you. Not the deep connection or understanding, but the way you wouldn't hold it against her if she were to pretend she didn't hear say hi as you walked past her. And how you didn't mind sneaking into her bed after midnight and the darkness becomes the only witness of your loving glances and tight embraces.

But Clarisse was quick to realize later on. that she might want more than that with you. It all felt impossible. Her reputation, her need to always look the toughest and never having a visible weakspot that might be used against her in the future.

And exposing you as her Achilles' heel, would mean that everything she's worked so hard for would break down into pieces the moment the news is out.

Her father already views her as a mistake. Something that could never be his. And for that she's had to work twice as hard as any of her siblings, and still be the least worthy in his eyes.

Were you worth risking all of that? She doesn't know. She doesn't think she ever will, now that it's all over.

And what about you?

What part did you play in cutting down the fragile line of rope the two of you had stood on?

Well, you were strong, opiniated, and rational. So fucking rational that it pissed her off. While she was losing her mind watching you laughing and giggling in the corner by a tree with some random dude that looked like he was birthed by a rat hybrid during the end of year party being held in camp. You were completely fine with not being with her.

Of course she knew that whatever going on between you two was a secret, but why were you so fine with it? Are you not affected by her the way she is with you?

"I'm playing the game by your rules, this is what you wanted." You had snapped at her after she dragged you away from your boring date into a secluded part into the forest. "This isn't a game." She had blurted out in frustration.

"Isn't it? Whenever you want me, I'm there. Whenever you don't, it's like I've never existed." And you were right. This was what she wanted. Despite herself and her feelings, this was how she treated you.

"We know we're together, why does anyone else needs to know that?" Clarisse asked instead of telling you what she really wanted to.

"Are you ashamed of me, Clarisse?" She could not answer your question. I'm ashamed of myself. She thought.

Can't you see? You are the only person who's been patient enough to wait for me, to stay with me. But then I'm looking for you in every crowd just to see that you don't even notice my absence.

Oh fuck it, in the end of the day, it would've never worked. Her thoughts countered againts one another.

Clarisse La Rue was born angry, all she ever knew to be, is angry. Her shortcomings is her inability to be gentle with those she loves the most, her need to break and rip every sensitive soul that has ever pitied her enough to try and pull out that ancient rage holed up in her chest.

"You were nothing without me. I found you, I gave you something to care about, something to anchor yourself to. Cause gods, you act like you don't give a shit, but you care so much that you make yourself believe that you don't care about being tossed aside, like it doesn't hurt you when I don't look twice on your way in front of other people."

The way she looked at you as she spat each and every word onto your face, was worse than the things she had actually said.

You scoffed at her, even with tears in your eyes, you glared at her and laughed out bitterly, refusing to sob or break under her stare.

"You know what your problem is, Clarisse?" You asked, even with the cracks in your voice, her spine shivered. "Indulge me." She forced out.

"You are so miserable, that you can't stand to see anyone else that isn't. You just need me to be pissed and devestated so you could feel better about yourself. Cause Gods forbid if you don't view your self worth on how less everyone else is." Clarisse says nothing, she knew you weren't finished.

"But I don't need to fuck over anyone else's life to know that I'm good. I'm perfectly fucking fine. I was fine before you, and I'll- I'll be fine after you." And there it was. That was where it all came crashing down.

Clarisse bad one second to say fuck all, to cut down all the bullshit. To admit that for once in her life, she was tired of fighting, and she had no clue what she's doing.

But as she opened her mouth to say it all, something in the shadow of her ego had restrained her tongue from speaking at all.

And so you watched her close her lips tight, and grieved then apology she never gave, the girl she couldn’t be for you. And then you left.

Everyone steered clear from Clarisse's way, unsure of what was getting on her nerves, and not caring enough to want to know.

And that night became the last time the two of you have ever spoke to eachother.

"Clarisse." Her brother's voice snaps her out of her thoughts. He was in position with his spear.

"Aim for my chest, remember to move your feet like taught you." She instruced him, fixing her own stance. "Go."

The boy moves quickly, and just like she envisioned in her head for ten thousand times in the just a few minutes ago, her feet drags.and her hand slows down for a second- because all it took is a second for the spear to slash her chest, and slams her down on her back.

---

Growing up, you had always earned the title of the "easy" one. Compared to your step-siblings, you had caused the least problem, required the least attention, asked the least questions.

You always knew what to do. You took care of your siblings when your parent couldn't, you knew how to take care of them the way your parent would. You knew when to get things done before you were told to, you knew where the pills were whenever you weren't feeling where. And you knew which secrets were better kept to yourself.

That one doesn't need watching over, they'd say about you. Even as you're being sent over to camp quick enough before the monsters acended, you were still not worth being worried over.

Someone who takes care of others so well, sure knows how to take care of themselves, right? Right.

Of course you're self sufficient, of course even know, you know where to find medication before your sickness gets worse. Or course even now, you know just the right things to tell people so you'd be left alone.

That was the bright side of raising yourself and growing up in an environment that made you feel so alone, you get used to the silence as the company gets smaller and smaller.

But no one ever said that loneliness felt good, even as a person who's found comfort in it. Because the truth of it, is that it's the sinking feeling in your stomach that you get addicted to. It is the repetitive cycle of breaking down that feels like home, because that's the only constant thing that have prevailed in your life.

What Clarisse had given you, with her presence, her rare tenderness and welcoming touches, was something new that had altered your entire defense system. Hope. She had given you hope.

And as you stood in the house that fell all over you, surviving the damage just like you always do. You realised just how stupid you were to even think that this time it would be different.

The news of Clarisse's injury spread like wildfire. And after repressing your emotions for the longest time, you felt your chest tightening from a familiar feeling.

Clarisse have taken blows before, but never this bad, never this serious. You know that she'd heal in time, but it doesn't stop you from worrying.

How could she be so stupid and careless? Being slammed down by a younger sibling nonetheless. Even if she has no regard for her physical safety, she must have one for her pride.

She's never so easily distracted or foolish, this injury and including her little spear incident has been looked upon by others as a moment of weakness for her. They are starting to wonder if Clarisse was ever that competent in the first place, or if she has just been making it look like she is.

You tossed and turned on your bed. The sheets don't feel right against your skin. It must be the heat, you tell yourself. It must be the heat because it cannot be the deprivation of Clarisse's cold skin from yours.

Demigods do not medicate the same way mortals do, and yet without anyone knowing, you've been swallowing down melatonin almost every night to be able to fall asleep.

It's not easy to get, the last hidden stock of it from the medical room finished 3 nights ago. And if no one had noticed your sleeping problems before, they do now because of your visible under eye bags.

Your hands have been shaking, a side effect of mortal drugs. It has also been making you more jumpy, anxious.

The worst of it all is how all those symptoms only worsens your sleeping problems now. As if seasonal depression itself isn't bad enough, now you're capable of staying up all night revisiting old haunting memories.

It's easy to distract yourself in the day with all the training and learning to do.

But no one survives the cruel coldness that the night presents itself with. When your only friend is the empty ceiling staring back down at you, and the only kind of blanket you want are the ones that feels like her arms.

It was ironic, you still wanted her the way a kicked dog would still roll over if asked to.

You had left her with your head held up high. But only the gods know how low to the ground you'd kneel down to for her to look at you again the way she used to.

If she had wanted you more lenient, then she could've just asked. If she had needed you to need her more then you would've begged for her if she would've just told you.

Pushing aside the soft material of your blanket off of you, your feet barely makes a sound as you tiptoed to the door to exit your cabin.

You told yourself you don't really know where you're going. But you moved in the same way you had 3 months ago, the road is memorized, the pace is as similar, and the yearning is twice as strong.

The moom followed you from above, lightimg the way as you walked on the ground from the pavements to patches of grass.

When you found yourself in front of the Ares cabin, you truly asked yourself if you have even an ounce of shame or sense left in your head. The answer was none, all that lived inside of you was dread, ever growing. The last straw before the breaking.

The last chance that looks a little too late to be taking for.

And yet as you pull open the door ever so slightly the way you used to, you feel it being held static before a creaking noise could be made. And like memories you've seen flashing in your mind multiple times before, your eyes meet Clarisse's.

"What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing up?"

You spoke at the same time as her. Both of you looked as surprised as the other.

As you took in eachother's appearance, Clarisse looks at you expectedly, considering that you are the one who isn't at your cabin. "I...wanted to see you."

Her expression changes slightly, as if she wasn't expecting that answer.

"Weird hour to visit." She noted. "Weird hour to be up by the door after you're slashed on the chest by a spear."

The two of you stared at eachother in silence before you notice Clarisse's chest heaving as she breathed out a low sigh. "Do you want to come in?" She whispered out to you. You nod your head once and waited for her to move aside so you could be let in.

Naturally, your hand found hers. She clasped her fingers over yours without a question as the two of you walked towards her bed.

Sitting dowm side by side, you eye the outline of her face closely in the dark, some sort of relief is released in your chest. "How bad is the damage?" You asked slowly. You almost reached up to brush a strand of hair away from her face, but caught yourself.

"Could've been worse." Was her response.

"Does it hurt right now?" You inquired again. You hear her inhale sharply and wondered if breathing was hard for her. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry." You weren't sure what else to tell her. To know that she was in pain had hurt you as well, but a larger part of you did not really care for her injury. Only now do you realise how much being away from her have affected you.

Now, in much closer proximity, your breathing fans her skin, the back of her hand touching yours, and her eyes unmoving from yours, do you realise just how much you needed Clarisse La Rue.

"It doesn't hurt as much as having to watch you leave." She spoke those words in a hushed whisper, meant only for your ears. If only dhe has been a little louder. You would've been able to hear the halt in the back of her throat. "No?" You whispered back to her. "No."

"I wouldn't have left, if you would've just asked me to stay."

"I know. I know you would." She mutters it affectionately, the cold shoulder already gone. "I know you would...you've always been good to me."

You swallowed the lump in your throat and held your tears in. "Then why didn't you?"

Clarisse shrugged. "I'm never good to you."

You frowned at her reply, feeling a jolt of anger striking through you. "But you could be. Why won't you be good to me, Clarisse?" Water gathered in your eyes, your primise yo refrain from crying broken.

"I would give you anything. I would give you my life. Could you just be good to me, Clarisse?" You told yourself that you wouldn't ask this question again, no matter how much of a dog you feel like, you won't force her to give you a bone.

And so with a tear running down your cheek, you looked up at her pleadingly and thought, please, see me, want me, love me. Need me the way I need you.

Her forehead softly rests againts yours, and you hear her then, mumbling."I could be good. I could be good to you."

Her thumb finds the wet streak on your face and wipes it off. "I want to be good to you."

"Then do that. It's that easy." She shakes her head lightly, making your frown deepens. "I've had to be this person that everyone expects me to be, because of my father, and my siblings. Sometimes giving in, feels like it could be death itself. Sweet dreams before you wake up in hell. That's what it feels like trying to be the person you want me to be. Punishment worthy."

"But it isn't death, Clarisse. Not just because someone else thinks it should be.

- Not just because your father thinks so."

"I know." She answers with a more reassuring tone.

"I haven't been able to sleep without you." You tell her out of obligation. "I can tell." She joked, the both of you chuckled lightly.

Clarisse then crawled over her bed to lie down and tugged you by your sleeve to find your place in her embrace again.

Laying your head above the area her chest was struck on, her beating heart becomes your lullaby. You fell asleep soon after, with your legs tangled together under the covers. Whatever was to happen tomorrow, it wouldn't matter. Because the worst was over.

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #pjo series #pjo tv show #dior goodjohn #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson

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