#that was just what came up in my bookmarks

[yukioos]

LIKE A TATTOO

SUMMARY: hwang in-ho x wife reader // you came to the island with your husband to help him out with the new games. as you took a moment for yourself, reading a book in your shared bed, a fist knocked on your door. the guard escorted you to the observation room, where in-ho was. the two of you drink bourbon and make out, not paying much attention to the games.

AUTHORS NOTE: hi! this is my first squid game oneshot, i hope u like it! i’m still working on arcane ones so dw im not abandoning the requests. i’ll most likely start taking requests for squid game characters as well. might make a part 2 if people like this. this is 1.7k words

WARNINGS: not proofread, blood, guns, murder (players sabotaging n pushing each other in red light green light), making out, drinking

the frontman sat on a plush, luxurious seat in his private, sound-proof room. a player who won the game three years ago had come back to compete, supposedly to avenge all the people he lost. outside the window, the players were engaging in their first game; red light, green light, the first game.

he hadn’t had much time for himself as he was constantly busy overlooking the games and creating new ones. it was as if his work was perpetual, as if he was meant to be the frontman for the rest of his life. he later considered settling down with you, the love of his life. but he couldn’t leave the games behind, it was part of his life, of course. he was extremely against giving the role of the frontman to anyone, as there was no one he would expect to run the games properly and orderly.

you knew about his feelings about the games, and how he wanted to quit but he was terrified of being caught. of you being caught. it wasn’t that you personally killed any of the players, no, but you knew who was running it, knew him like the back of your hand. that made you an accomplice, and he was scared for your life, he didn’t want you to become too wrapped up in his troubles.

that, of course, was quickly dismissed as soon as you became his spouse. when he told you about his job, and how he needed to leave for a business trip, you asked if you could come with him. he hesitated, and it took him days to decide if it was safe enough for you to spend around two years there, with him. he needed to create new games to entertain the VIPs, so he could use some help from his creative wife, and you had been begging to see what his job was like ever since you married.

so you assisted him in creating designs for the games and a new addition in between games, the possibility to leave the games and split the money. however, this would be the first game you would watch. you were nervous, not sure what to expect, but your husband had secretly hoped you’d be impressed by the first game, and hopefully the next ones as well.

the emptiness on the couch saddened him. he wondered why he felt so uncomfortable alone, in the room where he had idly watched the games he ran. it was too quiet. but he missed your touch, the sound of your breathing, your pulse, and your heartbeat.

he tapped his finger against the armrest before slightly grinning. he clicked and held down a button on a stand, marked with a small, white square. he commanded, “bring my wife to the observation room.” he then grinned once he gained a reply, knowing someone had gotten the message.

you, on the other hand, were reading a book in your bedroom, bored out of your mind, as you didn’t know where your husband was. suddenly, a fist knocked hard on your door, three times. must’ve been a guard, as in-ho normally just walks into the room, as you both shared it.

you tilted your head slightly to the right, staring at the door before you placed a bookmark in between two pages. you wondered what it could be about. nothing important was happening today, right?

once you placed your hand on the cold doorknob and twisted it, you saw a tall worker in a pink jumpsuit standing in front of you. the square guard stated, “the frontman asked me to escort you to the observation room.” and stood still, eerily waiting for you to respond.

you mumbled, “um, okay,” then hesitated, as you stepped into your heels, “do you know why he asked me to go there?” he began walking, and you followed after him, heels clicking with every step you took.

the guard shook his head and walked a short distance, until he arrived in front of a bland, pink door. you shook in anticipation, giddy to see your husband again. the guard knocked his fist on the door, then after a couple of seconds, opened it and held the door open for you.

you bowed your head as a thank you and shot him a gentle smile. he bowed back and closed the door, causing you to turn around. you quickly noticed the room was padded, most likely a soundproof room. two doors were lining the sides of the walls, leading to a larger space, where your husband was watching a doll place her hand on something. he sat on the left side of the double seat, next to a coffee stand. a bright chandelier hung above him, lighting up the room.

did he invite you so you could watch the first game together?

he felt your stare on him and smirked to himself. he asked, without turning around, “are you going to come up and sit down, honey? wouldn’t want your legs to hurt from standing for so long.” he smiled once he heard you shudder from feeling nervous. he always knew what you felt like, even if you didn’t know yourself.

you slowly traveled to the spot next to him, looking at him up and down, eyeing his all-black outfit. you sat next to him, thighs touching as you noticed his black mask to conceal his identity. two glasses sat next to one another on the coffee table, a subtle reminder that he was always thinking about you. a bottle of bourbon was placed on the table next to the glasses, which your husband began to pour into the small glasses. he handed you yours first and stared at you for a moment.

you crumbled under his intimidating gaze, rarely having the ability to know what he was feeling. you wiped your lip with your index, asking, “do— do i have something on my face?” your eyebrows furrowed in worry, not wanting to look bad in front of such a handsome man.

he mumbled, “no,” and continued to eye you up and down, as if he wanted to memorize every part of your body. glancing at your lips for a moment too long, he placed his hand on your thigh, caressing the skin uncovered by stockings. he couldn’t help but stare at your plump lips, wanting his on yours for eternity.

in-ho wouldn’t stop staring at your lips, but of course, you noticed. you tried to hold your grin back, heart pumping as his staring made you nervous. maybe catching him off guard would make him stop staring.

so you gently placed your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him into the kiss, eliciting a groan out of the man. even as you heard people talking from the game, he moved his hand down to your ass and placed both of his hands there, picking you up and placing you on his lap, not breaking away from the kiss.

you giggled into the kiss and cradled his face, rubbing your thumb on his cheek. the kiss was slow and passionate, as if both of you were trying to savor how the other felt in your hands, falling apart just for one another.

even as you heard an unfamiliar robot-like girl speaking, and the sounds of many footsteps running, you continued to move your lips against his. he ran his hand along your back, wishing he could feel you more through your soft fur coat. but you slowed your movements down, wanting to watch the game he had worked so hard on.

you slowly pulled away from him, causing him to needily chase your lips, wanting more. he gripped your thigh with want, you let out a small whimper, almost inaudible. as you rubbed his chest, he stared at your soft eyes, looking up at him as if he hung the stars and created the universe. he had never felt more loved than he had with you.

as soon as you sat back down on the couch, in-ho swiftly brought your legs up to his lap, gently taking your black heels off, wanting you to feel comfortable. he smiled at you after he gently placed them on the ground near the coffee table. his touch tickled your thighs, gently rubbing up and down as he watched the games from the window.

you suddenly heard a gunshot, making your eyes go wide as you tucked your knees more into yourself than him. he noticed the small movement and rubbed your calves, attempting to soothe you and your nerves. multiple guns fired, and people laid on the ground, blood pooling around their bodies, trying to run away from the doll.

in-ho clicked a remote, playing the song ‘fly me to the moon,’ which went with a model, containing toy singers that moved on beat. as the doll exclaimed, ‘green light!’ then ‘red light!’ no one dared to move a muscle. a player began to shout out commands, and the whole group quickly formed into lines at the next green light.

as the doll yelled, ‘red light!’ the leader of each line would halt first, and the last person in the line would stop last, however, the doll couldn’t detect their movements. it was a smart idea, you had to give them credit. your husband seemed displeased, however, as his hands halted, keeping his hands steady on your thighs. he sighed in frustration, but now it was time to soothe him. you grabbed his hand and held it, rubbing your thumb on the back of his hand. he glanced at you and his eyes spoke for him, he wanted to say thank you, but was too frustrated to speak.

gunshots began to fire, due to players pushing one another, sabotaging each other, as humans were greedy and always wanted more. their own life was important to them, but they didn’t seem to care about taking the life of another, as it wasn’t theirs.

but in-ho unexpectedly turned to you and stated, “i’m participating in the games this time.”

your heart dropped.

[sinnabarmoth]

Her Kitty and His Bunny

(A/N: My first Xavier prompt! Meant to have this out last month but I got really wrapped up in the Dragon Sylus fic. Oops.)

Pairing: Kitty|Xavier x Bunny|Reader (fem)

Prompt: Sweet fluff of kitty Xavier meeting and falling for the Bunny girl Reader working at the bookstore.

Length: 3k

It was a normal day of work at the bookshop which meant things were pretty slow. You wandered along through the shelves trying to find a book for a pick up order. You had to go near the back of the shop and you were surprised by what else you found there.

You had heard him before you saw him, the fluffy ears on top of your head catching the tiniest sounds all the time. And you could hear someone muttering softly. You turned the corner to see who was back here because you could have sworn the store was empty.

Laying against the wall, a book opened and resting on his chest was a man you vaguely remembered walking in earlier. Blonde, handsome face, cozy peach cardigan, pair of fuzzy cat ears and an equally fluffy tail that was curled around him and resting on his lap. He had fallen asleep directly in front of a warm ray of light and you couldn’t deny it looked heavenly. You could have done with a nap yourself.

How long had this guy been back here? Should you wake him? He wasn’t bothering anyone. But what if he had nodded off accidentally and needed to be somewhere? Or what if this was a medical problem?

“Sir. Sir, wake up.” you said.

“Hm?” he turned his head away from you towards the sunlight.

“What a pain.” you muttered and squatted next to him. You shook his shoulder. “Sir, you need to wake up now.”

He shifted again but his eyes opened this time to look at you. You could almost swear he was about to go back to sleep but you kept poking him. “Sir, are you alright? You’ve been asleep back here for quite some time.”

He sat up straight, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with a yawn. What a sleepy kitty this guy was. It was rather cute seeing how soft and bleary he was right after a nap. “Sorry,” he said quietly, “I didn’t even realize I had fallen asleep back here.”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” you stood back up. “You know it isn’t exactly a smart idea to fall asleep whenever, right?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that. I only meant to sit and read a chapter to see if I liked this book but then the sun came in and I just dozed off.” he stood up, stretching his arms high above his head. A bit of his shirt rode up and you caught a peek of his toned stomach. What kind of physique was he hiding under that cardigan?

“Must not have been a good book if it helped put you to sleep.”

“It was good actually. So good that I read through five chapters in one go before I fell asleep.” he flipped through the book. “I think I’ll get it.”

“Good to hear.” you looked past his head and saw the book you had originally come back here looking for. “There you are!” you stretched past him to grab the book on the high shelf. It was just out of range, your fingertips grazing the spine.

The man turned to see what you were reaching for and easily plucked the book from the shelf. “I was wondering why you were suddenly reaching towards me. But you weren’t. Is this the book you wanted?”

“It is. Thanks.” you checked your watch. “Oh they’re gonna be here any minute to pick this up. I gotta get this packaged.” you turned and scuttled back to the front desk. You grabbed the paper you wrapped books in and went through the folding process, tucking in a bookmark and sealing it with a custom sticker.

The man that you woke up was standing near the desk watching you work in silence. When you were done you set the book aside with the rest of the pick up orders and turned to him. “Ready to check out?”

“Yes.” he set the book on the counter. “Do you do that for every book you sell?”

“No, just the ones that are getting picked up or delivered.” you shrugged. “Why, were you hoping I’d wrap this one? You giving it as a present or something?”

“No. I was merely curious.” he thumbed through the stack of bookmarks by the register as you scanned the item. “You must have been working here a long time if you can package them that quickly.”

“Been a couple months so I’ve had the time, yeah.” you cocked your head at him, “Is this your first time in here? I’m pretty good with faces and I don’t remember yours.”

“No. Last I remembered it was still a noodle shop.”

“Really? Hasn’t been a noodle shop in like thirty years.” you appraised him closer. He didn’t look like he was that much older than you. How old was he if he remembered it from before it got turned into a bookstore? “If you don’t find it rude of me, how old are you? I could have sworn you were only in your twenties.”

“Oh, I am.” he said. “I remember it being a noodle shop because I had family that came here when it was and they talked about how good the food was. I found an old take-out menu so I decided to come down and check it out, only to find out it had become a bookstore in the meantime.”

You laughed. “Sorry to disappoint you. There is a really good noodle place a block down if you’re still hungry.” you placed a hand over your stomach. “What I would give for some chashu ramen with extra naruto. Maybe even some edamame. That sounds heavenly.”

“You could always order some.”

“No, I can’t. The place doesn’t do delivery and I have to stay and watch the store. The owner also gets mad if I eat at the front desk so even if I could get food I can’t eat it. They claim it is unprofessional looking. Not like there’s a huge amount of people coming in here everyday. Most of the time it’s pretty empty.” your stomach grumbled again.

“That sounds unfair. Do you not get to eat at all?”

“I have granola bars that I sneak bites of.” you shrugged. “So it’s not like I’m starving.”

“That doesn’t sound sustainable.”

“It is what it is.” you turned the card machine towards him. “Whenever you’re ready.”

The man paid you for the book and you handed him the bag. “I’ll check out that noodle shop you recommended. Thank you.”

“Have a nice afternoon. Enjoy those noodles for me.” you waved as he left.

Your smile dropped once he was out of sight. You had forgotten to ask his name. Maybe he’d come in again some time and you could ask then. You doubted it though. Outside of your regulars that had been coming here for years the only people that came by were lost tourists and students looking for cheap used textbooks.

Pick up orders came and left. You had blown through the last of your stash of granola bars and stared at the clock. You still had three hours before the end of your shift. You weren’t gonna make it. Stupid rabbit metabolism!

Your leg bounced in boredom as you stared at the clock, willing the hands to move faster. Your head slumped onto the counter. You were so freaking hungry!

Your ears perked as you heard the door bell chime. You picked your head up to greet whoever walked in and saw the handsome sleepy man from before. He had a plastic bag in his one hand and he held it out to you. “Special delivery.”

“What is this?” you took the bag. Inside were two takeout bowls of hot ramen. “Did you buy this for me?”

“You were hungry and you said the place doesn’t do delivery. So I thought I’d start my own delivery service, although I suppose it is a specialty service since it only has one customer.”

“This is amazing. Thank you so much. I can pay you back. How much was it?”

“You don’t have to pay me anything, except,” he took out both bowls and slid one over to you. “Don’t make me eat alone.”

“But the owner--”

“The camera behind the front desk isn’t hooked up to anything. Either it’s broken or it was put up there just to intimidate shoppers out of stealing. The owners won’t know you were eating at the front desk unless they come in.” he said.

You really looked at the camera you spent days hiding your granola bars from and your mouth dropped open. It really wasn’t attached to anything! They had let you believe you were being monitored that entire time! You could have been eating full meals this entire time and they wouldn’t have known! It’s not like they ever come down to the store. They own it but you basically run it.

“So?” he held out a pair of chopsticks to you.

“Thank you so much.” you took the chopsticks. “What’s your name by the way? I never asked.”

“Xavier.”

“Nice to meet you, Xavier. And thanks again for the food.” You opened the lid on your ramen and saw he had gotten exactly what you had said you were craving, chashu with extra naruto.

You are your ramen together and bit by bit got to know more about Xavier. He had been living abroad for a while and recently moved back to Linkon. He worked as a Hunter which was exciting. You had to remember not to mention how much Hunter inspired media you absorbed. There was an entire bookshelf back at your apartment that was full of Hunter romance novels and movies. If he knew about that he’d probably think you were weird. You couldn’t help it. There was something just inherently exciting and romantic about Hunters that drew you in.

You told him about your life living in Linkon and how you liked to spend your days when you weren’t working. It wasn’t anything nearly as exciting as what he did but it made you happy.

After that Xavier just kept popping in while you were working. He always made sure to stop by with some kind of food. Sometimes they were sweet breads from the bakery, hot ramen on rainy days, smoothies from the food truck down the street. Just something to help tide you over until you got off work. And you talked and talked and talked until finally you told him to just give you his number so you could text. Because no matter what there was always more you wanted to say to each other and not enough time while you were working to talk about it all.

He didn’t stop by the store as often after he got your number but you still talked every day thanks to it. He said you calling him was often what woke him up from his naps. How the man could fall asleep anywhere and everywhere was a mystery to you. Last time you had called him he had dozed off on the train and woke up to realize his destination had been three stops ago so he had to get off and get a cab back to where he needed to be anyway.

“Xavier, I swear, it isn’t normal for someone to fall asleep as much as you do. And don’t just say it is a cat thing. Cats like to lie down but I know other cat people and they do not nap as much as you do.” you were going up and down the aisles of the bookstore restocking some items. Xavier was following behind you with the box.

It was late and the shop had already closed but you needed to get these books out for their official release tomorrow morning. It was the highly anticipated sequel to a Hunter romance novel. You had already pre-ordered your copy and were going to sneak one from the stack while Xavier wasn’t looking to take home and read.

“I work a lot. I have to sleep when I can.”

“That’s the excuse you gave last time. I don’t think that your job has you on call so much that you have to take a military sleep approach to it.” you had run out of space on the shelf you were stocking and reached to start putting them on the next shelf up. But once again it was just out of reach.

“I’ll get this.” Xavier stretched past you, putting the books on the higher shelf. You hadn’t moved yet so he was practically pressed against you as he reached to put the books in place.

“Uh Xavier,” you said, “Can I uh…can I move first?”

“Hm?” he looked down without stepping back. You knew he was tall before but with him looking down at you from so close only made you realize how much shorter you really were.

“Your ears are pinned back.” he said, “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“A little…” you broke your gaze, heat rolling up your neck.

“Sorry.” he stepped back. “Didn’t really think about it.”

“It’s okay.” you took a couple steps away to regain your wits. You felt a little flick on your tail and you jumped a foot in the air.

Xavier was standing where you had been, had outstretched. “Did you touch my tail?”

“Sorry again. It was up for the first time and I had never seen it do that before. It looked so soft on the underside I just found myself reaching out to feel it.” he said. “I didn’t think it’d be a big deal. You touch my tail all the time.”

“Well, yours is longer. If you touch my tail you’re basically touching my butt!”

He cracked an embarrassed smile. “As I recall, that didn’t seem to bother you either when you touched mine.”

“I told you it was an accident! How long are you gonna hold that over me?”

“I don’t plan on holding it over you. I just like to remind you every once in a while.”

“That’s the same thing!” He chuckled again. “What is it now? Why are you laughing!”

“I never noticed before but when you’re angry your nose twitches.”

“Ugh!” you covered your nose. “No it doesn’t!”

“Yes it does. You say I’m so much like a cat but you have so many rabbit tendencies too. Right down to loving carrots.”

“I just happen to like carrots and a lot of media portrays rabbits loving carrots. That is correlation, not causation.”

“And the fact that you jumped really far when I startled you?”

“You startled me. Exactly. Who wouldn’t jump?”

“You cleared a good couple feet in a single bound, bunny.”

“You don’t get to call me bunny like you’re trying to be cute. Not unless you’re cool with me calling you kitty.”

“I’m fine with that.”

“What?”

“You can call me kitty Xavier if you want. I don’t mind. So I can keep calling you bunny, right?”

“No! That wasn’t--”

“You just said if you get to call me kitty I get to call you bunny. Or should I call you bun-bun instead? Floppy ears? Cottontail?”

“Stop! You are so embarrassing!” you covered his mouth to stop the nicknames. “Fine, you can call me bunny, but only when no one else is around.”

He pulled your hand off his mouth. “Does that mean I get to call you bunny now? We are alone.”

“Fine. But don’t overdo it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, bunny.”

“Curse whatever metaflux fluctuation that determined our evolution millenia ago to give us these animal appendages.” you muttered under your breath. “There was a point in time thousands of years ago when we didn’t have animal tails and ears. Why couldn’t we have stayed that way?”

“So we wouldn’t miss out on the fun of petting our own ears.” Xavier said, giving you a little scratch behind the ear as you stood there. You unconsciously leaned your head into his touch before coming to your senses and gently smacking his hand away. “Something wrong?”

“You--you--” now that Xavier pointed it out you could feel your nose twitching again. “I do not understand you at all.”

“What’s there to understand?”

“Why do you like teasing me? I didn’t get that vibe from you when we first met but lately you keep doing it.”

“I guess it’s because I like you.”

Your eyes went wide. “What?”

“I’ve liked you for a while. Do you think I’d bring just anyone food unprompted, even when the weather is bad? Or let them touch my tail or scratch my ears?” you could see his face going pink and his tail was swishing from side to side, “I…I like you a lot.”

“Wow.” was all that came out of your mouth. You weren’t expecting a confession. How were you meant to respond?

“Honestly, I thought you already knew. I thought this whole time you had been flirting back with me. You touch me so casually and you’re always sending me such cute messages, calling me first thing in the morning and stuff…” he looked away, his ears plastered against his head. “I guess I was reading too much into it. I’m sorry that I made you uncomfortable.”

Had you been flirting all this time? In retrospect it was obvious. So painfully obvious to everyone but you. It was no secret that you found him attractive. He was also always super kind to you. Each time he came by with something for you to eat your heart started beating faster. Not just because seeing him meant he had food but because you knew you’d get to talk to him more. You called him first thing in the morning every day partly to make sure he woke up at a decent hour but also because his voice was the first thing you wanted to hear at the start of the day.

You wanted to be around him. Be near him. Always have part of him in reach.

“You too…” you murmured.

“Huh?” he glanced back at you.

“...like you too.” you said, a little louder.

He prowled closer, leaning in close to your face. “Say again? My hearing isn’t as good as yours.”

“I said I like you too!” you snapped, your face roiling hot. “I really really like you! Happy?”

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close into his chest. You could hear a faint purring deep in his chest. “Yes.”

You let yourself melt against him. He was so warm. You nuzzled your face into his chest a little more and he chuckled. “Hopefully now we can do something outside of this bookstore.” you said.

“I don’t mind where we are so long as you are there too, bunny.”

[itsmiahshemakessense]

Deleted xmas byler fic

Not mine!! but i had it downloaded and wanted to post here in case anyone else wanted to read the fluff masterpiece!

a three-step plan to make will byers fall in love

RomeoWrites

Summary:

It’s Christmas break and Mike Wheeler is having a crisis. Why? Because the Byers are visiting for the first time in almost two years, and sometime since leaving Hawkins, Will has gotten hot. And Mike is dealing with that in a totally platonic way. Or so he insists.  OR The party concocts a three-step plan to get Will Byers to fall in love assuming, of course, that he hasn’t already.

rating:

General Audiences

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Fandom:

Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Relationship:

Will Byers/Mike Wheeler

Characters:

Will Byers

Mike Wheeler

Eleven | Jane Hopper

Lucas Sinclair

Maxine "Max" Mayfield

Dustin Henderson

Additional Tags:

Fluff

Getting Together

Funny

Humor

Fluff and Humor

Sweet

First Kiss

Christmas

Holidays

Christmas Fluff

Language: English Published: 2022-08-09 Words: 13620 Chapters:1/1 Comments: 35 Kudos: 814 Bookmarks: 176 Hits: 5075

Phase Zero: The Pre-Planning

It’s the last day of school before the Christmas break, and Mike Wheeler is distracted. Like, head empty, no neurons firing, kind of distracted. If it wasn’t the last day of term he would definitely be in detention by now, because absolutely no thoughts have passed through his brain in any of his lessons thus far. 

“Dustin,” he whispers halfway into their last math class of the year. “Dustin, I’m in urgent and dire need of assistance.”

“What?” Comes the vaguely annoyed response, and Mike rolls his eyes. It’s the last day of term and Dustin is still insisting on putting up a facade of concentration, despite the fact that literally everyone else in their class is already chattering away, and their teacher does not seem to care one bit.

“Assistance, Dustin. Keep up. I need assistance. Urgently and direly, in fact.”

Dustin fixes him with a look. “You sound like you’ve swallowed a thesaurus.”

“This is not the time to make fun of my extremely well-appointed grasp of the English language,” he hisses. “I’m having a crisis.”

That piques Dustin’s interest. “A crisis? What kind of crisis?”

And truthfully, Mike is not exactly sure, because said crisis only started this morning. At 6:52 am to be exact, when the Byers arrived at his house to spend their Christmas break back in Hawkins, away from California. The party had gathered at the Wheeler’s, where the Byers would be staying, to greet Will and El, who had jumped out of the car and immediately been smothered by a party group hug. Well, a party group hug without Mike who, upon seeing Will emerge from the backseat of Mrs Byers’ car, had promptly melted into a puddle of goo with very limited brain power. He had only just managed to react somewhat normally when Will pulled him into a tight hug, but when Will wryly complimented his Yoda pajamas, he was pretty sure all he managed to get out was ‘guh.’

Because the thing is, Will has been Mike's best friend since they were five. And until one and a half years ago, Mike had seen him everyday. And Will was familiar. His short stature and swoopy brown hair were familiar. His hazel eyes and shy smiles. Will was the type of kid who parents would coo over and teachers loved, because for all intents and purposes, he was cute. Adorable, even. Politely charming with his drawings and ink covered hands. But now? After Mike only had one short visit to California, very early on, and not so much as a photograph of Will before today? Will’s familiar features are gone. And instead Mike came to the abrupt realization this morning, that Will is hot. And that’s not a word that Mike would ever use aloud. But it’s true. Somewhere between before and now, Will has become completely and breathtakingly gorgeous. And Mike is dealing with that fact in a totally normal and platonic way. 

“What kind of crisis?” Dustin asks again. 

Mike shrugs rather helplessly. “I’m not entirely sure.”

Dustin’s eyes gleam with scientific intrigue. “A guessing game, then. Okay, academic?”

Mike shakes his head. 

“Family?”

Still no. 

“Personal?”

Uh - somewhat. 

“…sexual?”

And Mike’s face must look some type of way because Dustin lets out an honest-to-god cackle. “What? You’re having a sexual crisis?”

“No!” Mike quickly amends, trying to do damage control for his facial expressions. “Not sexual. More like, romantic, I guess?”

Dustin levels him with a look. “A romantic crisis, huh? And what, exactly, has brought this about?”

“Uh - well, it’s kind of complicated, really.” It’s not complicated, Mike is just a coward. “It’s just I’ve noticed someone today who I find, uh - who is- well, someone who is rather, um, nice-looking,” he finishes lamely. 

“Nice-looking?”

“Yeah, you know. Handsome.”

“Handsome?”

“Attractive?” Mike tries.

Dustin rolls his eyes. “Are you seriously this repressed? The word is hot, Michael.”

“Right. Yes. That.” Even hearing it aloud sent a little thrill through his stomach as he remembers how good Will looks with his tousled hair and strong jawline.

“Handsome as in male, handsome?” Dustin asks, a polite sort of curiosity in his tone. 

“That would be accurate.”

“Oh, so this is about Will.”

Mike has to stop himself from shoving his pencil into his eye. “How did you know that? Was I super obvious?”

“Just a little bit,” Dustin admits. “Not to Will, though, I think you’re safe there.”

At least that’s a relief. “So, what should I do? You know, about the crisis?”

“Well, what do you want to do?” And Mike is immediately glad he chose Dustin to confide in, with his level-headedness and logic. He isn’t going to blow this whole thing out of proportion. “Because I think you should just tell him that you think he’s earth-shatteringly and mind-bogglingly hot, and you know, maybe kiss him. I think he’d appreciate that.”

And oh, look at that! Mike now regrets everything. “I am not going to do either of those things, Dustin,” he hisses. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Why is that ridiculous?”

“Well, for starters, I’m not just going to kiss him out of nowhere, that’s rude. And secondly, we don’t know that he’s going to appreciate it? He could completely freak out.”

“He’s not going to freak out - and everyone appreciates kissing.”

“Okay, that is so not true, and this isn’t about kissing. It’s about…” Mike trails off, looking for words and Dustin snaps his fingers at him. 

“Oh. Oh, ho, ho,” he chortles. 

“Okay, please stop doing that.”

“This isn’t a sexual crisis at all, is it?”

“I already told you that it wasn’t-”

“This is a love crisis.” Dustin strings out the word love like luuurve and that’s the only thing that horrifies Mike out of evaporating on the spot. Because love is a big word. A huge word, in fact. And also the word that most accurately describes his problem. He is having a love crisis. 

Of course, he immediately denies this. “Actually, you know what? Let’s go back to sexual crisis. I think even that is more comfortable than how you just pronounced love.”

“I can’t believe you’re in love. Well, actually, maybe I can.”

“Okay, no one said anything about love.”

“Of course you’re in love. It’s Will.”

And surprisingly, that’s probably the first thing Dustin’s said so far that makes sense in Mike’s brain. He fiddles with his pencil and considers his options. Number one is to deny, deny, deny. But he’s the one who started this whole conversation, so it’s not like Dustin will believe him. Number two: pass it off as just a physical attraction - something that isn’t serious. Will is pretty and Mike wants to kiss him, but it’s not love. Just one guy appreciating the good-looks of another guy. But then phrase sexual crisis rings in his head, and he immediately vetoes that option. Which leaves him with one more. Admit what he has known to be true for approximately six years. That he is definitely in love, and maybe, just maybe, he’s finally emotionally prepared to do something about it.

“Okay, maybe just a little bit,” is what ends up coming out of his mouth, and Dustin sits back on his chair, satisfied.

“Well, good. Acceptance is the first step. Scoring yourself a super hot boyfriend is step number two.”

“And how exactly do you expect me to do that?”

“It’s simple. At lunch hour, we’ll lay this all out for the rest of the party and we’ll put our brilliant minds together and come up with a plan.”

He makes it sound so easy, that Mike feels compelled to just let it happen. 

“Okay.” He steadies himself. “A plan. We can make a plan.” Then: “Do you really think Will is going to want that? Do you think he might like me back?”

Dustin rocks back on his rear chair legs, thoughtfully. “Well, scientifically speaking, you know, considering the evidence, I don’t think it’s the most unlikely thing in the world. I’d put your odds at 70:30.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Great. Numbers. Just what I need to help me through this.”

“Hey, math is a great way to figure things out. And those are good odds.”

Mike stabs his pencil into his worksheet, mutinously. 70% chance of success. He liked the sound of that. But 30% chance of failure? That, he could have lived without. 

“I’ll think about it,” he says at last. “You can tell the party at lunch, and I’ll think about it.”

Dustin gives him a final nod and turns his attention back to their assigned work. And Mike tries to do the same, he really does, but by the time the bell rings for lunch hour, all he’s managed to do is doodle a couple of little hearts on his page and one very clumsy drawing of a boy in a wizards hat. He flushes, and scrunches up the paper, tossing it in the bin on the way out.

And maybe he was being somewhat (utterly and entirely) naive, thinking Dustin that would at least try to be a little bit subtle about this whole thing, because as soon as they arrive at their usual cafeteria table, Dustin slams down his lunch tray and with fervor, declares: “Mike is having a crisis.”

And if that wasn’t already enough to send Mike into a half-panicked state, Dustin then adds with a hushed sort of reverence, as if this was the news of the century: “Of the sexual kind.”

“Dustin!” Mike whisper-shouts, trying to suppress his mortification. “That is not what this is.”

“Oh? Did you or did you not use the words earth-shatteringly and mind-bogglingly hot?”

“I did not-” Mike’s horrified protest is cut off by the audible gasping coming from the rest of their table.

“What? Who does Mike think is hot-”

“You like someone? This is unbelievable-”

Dustin waves away everyone with an airy hand. “The point is this: Mike has declared himself hopelessly and irrevocably in love-” Mike gives up any attempt to interject and just groans, slapping his hand over his face, “-and it is our job, as his most dear and loyal friends-” (“-only friends,” Max interrupts) “-to help him,” Dustin finishes with a flourish.

“Help him?” Lucas asks quizzically. “You really think we can help him? He’s a hopeless case.”

“Hey-”

“It’s true, Mike,” Max says unsympathetically. “You’re probably the least romantic person I know.”

Mike scowls. “I could be romantic.” Then pauses. “Wait, no. I don’t want to be romantic - this is a terrible idea.”

Lucas points at him. “There you have it. He doesn’t want to be romantic.”

“Yeah, thank god,” adds Max. “That would be a trainwreck.”

“Gee, thanks,” he says sarcastically. And how exactly did Mike end up with such supportive and caring friends? 

Max mimes a ‘you’re welcome’ while Dustin splutters in disagreement. “What? No. You don’t even know who this is about yet. How can you give up so easily?”

And that gets Max and Lucas interested again. 

“Well, tell us then. Who is she?” Lucas asks, and then shoots a glance at Mike. “Uh, he?” 

Max elbows him. “They.”

Dustin looks to Mike as if for approval and Mike just waves his hands vaguely. He supposes it won’t be the worst thing in the world if they find out about Will. Maybe it would make them more sympathetic when every Friday evening he ditches any plans because that’s his and Will’s night to talk as much as they can on the phone until someone kicks them off. 

“Okay. It’s…” Dustin pauses for dramatic effect until Mike kicks him under the table. “Ow! Okay. It’s Will.”

“Knew it.”

“Called it.”

“It’s because of this morning, isn’t it?” Lucas accuses. “You saw him and totally freaked out because he’s all hot now.”

“Yeah, your face was so red, I thought you were going to explode.”

“Okay, can you stop being mean?” Mike directs at Max. “This is a trying time.” Then he looks at Lucas. “And can everyone please stop with the h-word?”

“He has problems with the h-word,” Dustin stage-whispers. 

And great, now they’re all laughing at him, and Mike tries to slowly slip under the table, but Max reaches over and grabs him by the collar. “Relax, Wheeler, we’re only joking. I, for one, am actually glad that you’re finally admitting your feelings, and would be honored to join the noble quest to find you requited love.”

“You’ve come to too many of our DnD campaigns,” is all Mike says to that. 

Max sends him a borderline horrified look. “You know I’m joking when I say shit like that, right? You do know that?”

“Alright, calm down,” Lucas interjects. “It’s not like you’re going to lose any cool credits with us.”

“People!” Dustin claps his hands together. “We are getting off-track. This meeting has been called to help Mike, not to bully him.”

“Meeting?” Mike splutters. “This is lunch.”

Dustin waves him off. “We need a plan.”

“Well, what’s our aim? Our hypothesis?” Lucas asks, and wow. Between the basketball and the general athleticism, Mike had forgotten that Lucas was still, like the rest of them, a huge nerd.

“This is not a science experiment-”

“Experiment!” Max cuts off his protest. “That’s exactly it. We should run trials. Attempts. We should try to set them up.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Mike says loudly.

“That,” Dustin points two, twin finger guns at Max, “is an excellent idea.”

“No, no, no, not excellent-”

“We could each have a go,” Lucas adds, apparently joining Dustin and Max in being deaf to the sound of Mike’s voice. “Make it a competition.”

“A competition?”

“Yeah, like, each of us can try to get them together, and the best man-”

“-or woman-”

“Or woman, will win.”

“Genius,” Dustin whispers. “Pure genius.”

All three of them look around at each other with the sort of reverent air that could only be conjured up by a bunch of far too self-important sixteen-year-olds. 

Mike attempts to say something rational. Reasonable, so as to convince them all that this is a very, very bad idea. What comes out instead is: “Are you all actually insane?”

As one, they turn to look at him, as if only just remembering that he does, in fact, exist. By the looks on their faces, they don’t see anything wrong with their plan. Mike sinks back into his seat with a half-strangled sort of moan. “Oh my god. You are. You all are. My three best-” (“-only-”) “-friends are insane.”

“Oh, certifiably,” Dustin says agreeably. “But does that mean this is a bad idea?”

“Yes. Yes, it does.”

“Oh, come on, Mike. You’ve been hung up on Will since we were in middle school - and don’t pretend like you weren’t. Is it really the worst thing in the world if you give yourself a chance?”

Mike considers Lucas’ words, and hears the truth in them. Although seeing Will this morning had jolted something to life within himself, he has long been aware of the feelings he harbors, that were subconscious at first, until all of a sudden he turned ten, learnt what romance was, and developed what was probably the strongest childhood crush in the history of childhood crushes. Of course, now it’s a fair bit more than a childhood crush, so really, maybe this is a good idea. He could do with a chance. 

“And if you do end up woefully and pitifully rejected, hey, the Byers live in California now, so it’s not like it’ll be that awkward,” Max supplies helpfully.

He shoots her a glare, any confidence he had, immediately evaporating. “Right. Will is going to reject me and this is a horrible plan.”

“Oh, lighten up, Wheeler,” Dustin says. “Sure, the painful pull of heartbreak may befall you, but is that any worse than the pain of never knowing what could be, if only you would proclaim your frankly sickeningly sweet, but admittedly adorable, love?”

Max punches him in the arm. “Don’t talk like that.”

But Dustin’s speech, however falsely pretentious, does stir something within Mike. He feels himself slowly nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“Seriously, man? That’s what convinced you?”

“I’ve told you before, I’m a poet-”

“Oh, shut up, the pair of you.” Max looks at Mike squarely from across the table. “You’ll do it?”

And what the hell? What does he have to lose, really? (His dignity, his pride, his lifelong best friend, his brain supplies helpfully, but he ignores it.) 

“Yeah. I’ll do it. Proclaim my love, or whatever.”

Dustin beams at him. “Great! What’s the worst that could possibly happen?”

Lucas covers Max’s mouth before she can answer.

“Yeah,” Mike says, brain spinning with possibilities. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Phase One: Max’s Madness

Immediately after school, the plan commences. Sometime during their shared science lab (while Mike sat, miserable and alone, relegated to a separate bench for secrecy purposes), Dustin, Lucas, and Max had put together three strategies to be executed over the next three days, that will supposedly ‘make Will fall in love, like he never has before’ according to Dustin (‘assuming, of course, that he’s not already in love with you’ adds Lucas). Of course, they don’t tell Mike what any of these strategies are, but he knows that each of them is responsible for one. He dreads Max’s the most. 

They all cycle to the Wheeler’s, and for the first time in his life, Mike wishes the distance between his house and school was longer, because all he wants to do right now is delay, delay, delay. Max catches his eye as he’s mid-deep-breath, trying to stop his heart from beating so fast. 

“Would you calm down?” Max asks. “You’re acting like you’re going to have a heart attack when you see him.

“Maybe a heart attack isn’t the anatomical reaction he’s worried about-”

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence, Dustin,” Mike warns, ignoring the amused look between him and Lucas and the face of mock-disgust from Max. “I’m calm. I’m very calm. Never been more calm.”

The group share disbelieving glances. 

“Alright,” says Max. “Just try to take deep breaths so you don’t start stress-sweating. That’s not the impression you want to give off.”

“I’m not trying to give off an impression. Will already knows everything about me, it’s not like I’m suddenly going to show up and he’s going to think I'm an entirely different person.”

“Well, I don't know, man. Your look is kind of edgy now. Maybe Will likes emo boys.”

“I’m not emo,” Mike objects, but secretly feels a little pleased about the assessment of his style. “Besides, he saw me this morning. I don’t look any different.”

“Yeah, well, this morning you were in Star Wars pajamas, so maybe give edgy a chance.”

Mike flushes a little. “I’ll have you know that Will said my pajamas were cool.”

The group shares another disbelieving glance, and man, Mike was getting sick of those. 

“Looks like California has made Will forget about the friends don’t lie rule, huh?” Dustin laughs, and Mike doesn’t feel the least bit guilty about shoving him off his bike. 

They reach the house and Mike feels in a tizzy. He lets Lucas and Max frog-march him to the front door, sure that if he walked by himself, he would never make it. 

“What’s today's strategy, again?” he asks.

“Don’t you worry about that,” Dustin answers unhelpfully. 

“Great. Just great,” he mutters to himself as he fumbles for his key and opens the door. 

El greets them as soon as they walk inside. “Finally, you’re home! We’ve been so bored all day, waiting. Will’s still upstairs, but he’ll be down in a minute.”

Mike’s stomach does a disconcerting little flip when he realizes that Will is probably up in his bedroom, where he’ll be sleeping for the next two weeks. Mrs Byers and El are in Nancy’s room since she (and Jonathan) are staying at college during the break. Will got stuck with Mike’s floor, since they didn’t have another spare bedroom, and really, Mike is not complaining. Still, he hopes he didn’t leave anything embarrassing around when he left this morning. 

Then he hears Will’s voice as he comes down the stairs and balks. “Okay, abort mission,” he hisses to the group. “Abort. This is a terrible plan.”

El looks at them, confused. “What plan?”

Dustin starts to say something, but cuts himself off when Will appears and looks around at their guilty faces. “What’s going on?” he asks.

Lucas leaps towards him, trying (and failing) to affect an air of nonchalance. “William!” He wraps his arm around Will’s like they’re an old married couple from a Jane Austen novel and guides him down the rest of the stairs. “Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary is going on, don’t you worry about that.”

Will looks bemused. “Why are you talking like that?”

“No reason, no reason.”

“Um, okay?” Will shifts his eyes around the room until they land on Mike, and then his lips tilt up into a smile. “Hey, Mike.”

Mike stares until Max elbows him in the ribs. “Oh, uh - hi.” And that is definitely not the usual octave he speaks in. 

Will gives him a strange look, but presses on. “How was the last day of school?”

“Um, it was…” Mike thinks back to their lunch time conversation. “Productive.”

Will gives him another bemused little smile, before starting up a conversation with Lucas and Max. Mike takes a moment to try and jumpstart his brain, since currently it’s only able to focus on the fact that Will is wearing a tight, long-sleeve, black shirt and Mike doesn’t think he’s ever seen him in that color before.

“Why are you acting weird?” El asks him suspiciously, and Mike jumps a little.

“I’m not,” he says defensively, “I’m acting very normal.”

El raises her eyebrows, but doesn’t push any further. He distracts himself by dumping his backpack and shoes in the hall, and shrugging off his coat, until he hears another voice.

“Will, sweetie?” Mrs Byers calls from upstairs. “Will you help me set up this bed for a moment?”

Will rolls his eyes, but starts to climb back up the stairs. “Be back in a minute.”

As soon as he disappears, Max starts whispering to El very rapidly and Mike squints at them. “Woah, woah, woah. You’re not telling her the plan, are you?”

The look on El’s face tells him everything he needs to know. “Oh my god.” He throws a hand over his face in embarrassment. “Just tell the whole world, won’t you? Maybe Will while you're at it? Save us all some time.”

“Maybe that’s a good idea,” says El. “I don’t think you need a plan, just tell Will how you feel. And be honest.”

Max scoffs. “You want Mike to express his feelings? With words? Be serious, El. You saw him just then, he was a stuttering mess.”

Mike doesn’t even try to argue because it’s an entirely accurate statement. 

El still hesitates. “But, it’s not like a trick?”

“No!” Dustin says. “It’s not a trick at all. We’re just helping them along. Creating romantic scenarios.”

“Romantic scenarios,” El says slowly. “Like from movies.”

“Exactly,” says Lucas. “Like, Max’s plan is today, and mine is tomorrow. And I just know that mine is going to work perfectly.”

“What is it?” Mike tries. He gets no response. 

“And you think these will work?” El asks. 

She received three identical nods in reply. She considers them all for a moment, before finally saying: “Okay. But only because I want to see Will happy.” Then she looks at Mike. “And you too, I suppose.”

“Gee, thanks,” Mike grumbles. “Always good to be a second thought.”

El shoots him a bright grin and loops her arm into Max’s, dragging her down the basement stairs. “So, tell me about your plan…”

With the girls gone, Mike looks around at Lucas and Dustin, feeling more than a little mortified. “Was it really that bad? Am I a stuttering mess like Max said?”

Lucas claps him on the shoulder sympathetically. “Well, let’s put it this way. Will still seemed plenty happy to see you, so we’ll count it as a win.”

Mike forces himself to take his hundredth deep breath of the day. “Okay, Mike,” he mutters to himself. “You can do this. You can talk like a normal person to Will - in fact, you literally did that last night on the phone. This isn’t any different.” He ignores the way Lucas and Dustin are looking at him like he’s completely lost the plot. “You just need to be calm, and remember that Will likes you. You’re his best friend. He’s happy to see you, and you just need to act normal.”

He exhales one more time and looks up. “Okay, actually that really made me feel better.”

Dustin just looks at him. “Okay, buddy.”

But, truly, Mike has mastered the art of self-pep-talks because when Will reappears, Mike bounds up to him, even managing to sling a casual arm around his shoulder, and steers him into the kitchen. “Go to the basement,” he calls to the others. “We’ll bring snacks.”

As they head into the kitchen, Mike can’t help but feel ridiculously happy. It’s been a long time since he’s seen Will in his house, and familiarity makes his heart swell.

“I like your new haircut,” Will says as he pulls some sodas out of the fridge. “It’s very… you.”

Mike feels absurdly pleased. “Thanks,” he says, turning around to grab a bag of chips so Will doesn’t see him flush. Will just hums in response, and when Mike turns back, Will reaches a hand up and tugs gently on one of his curls, letting it spring back up after. Mike swallows hard.

“It looks really good,” Will murmurs, his hand just barely brushing Mike’s cheek as he brings it back down. Mike accidentally pops the chip bag and both of them jump.

“Sorry!” His voice is an octave higher than usual, so he tries again. “Sorry. Held it a bit too tight.”

He turns around again swiftly and hunts for a bowl, trying to stop his heart from pounding. He pours the chips out, grabs a couple of chocolate bars from the cupboard, and turns around once more. Will is leaning nonchalantly on the counter.

“Ready to go?” Mike says, holding up his haul. Will shoots him a smile and grabs the sodas.

“Onwards, paladin,” he says with a dorky grin. “To the basement.”

Mike huffs out a laugh, feeling the knot of nerves in his chest loosen a little. It’s just Will, he reminds himself. “After you, cleric.”

They head down the stairs and almost make it into the basement, when Mike pauses, hearing a noise from behind the laundry door. “Hear that?” He nudges Will’s leg with his foot, hands holding their snacks.

Will tucks the soda pack under one arm and opens the laundry door. Chaos unfolds before Mike’s eyes. Lucas and Dustin are arguing in a corner, Max is sitting cross-legged on top of the dryer, and El is crouched on the floor next to a huge puddle of soapy water. In the middle of it all lies a bundle of wet, shiny material in distinctive tones of red and navy that Mike recognises.

“Are those our sleeping bags?” Mike is somewhat incredulous at the soapy, sopping mess of fabric that is spread before him. “What the hell happened here?”

El stands back up, holding one of the sleeping bags. “Wet,” she says, helpfully. 

“We can see that, El.” Will’s tone is sort of resignedly amused, like he had expected nothing more from the group of four in front of them. “I think what Mike means is how did this happen?”

El shrugs, clearly the appointed speaker of the group, probably because they know Mike won’t get mad at her. “Washing machine.”

Mike sighs in exasperation and shares a helpless glance with Will. “Any chance these will dry before bedtime?”

“I mean, unless your dryer has super-machine capabilities…”

Even a dumb half-joke like that has Mike laughing, and he sees the look Max gives him like, damn, you’ve got it bad.  

Dustin grins around at them all, like this was exactly what was supposed to happen this evening, and Mike slowly starts to suspect that maybe, it actually is. And then Max confirms that suspicion by saying, “Guess you’ll both just have to sleep in Mike’s bed tonight, huh?” 

“Yeah, since the sleeping bags are unusable, and all,” adds Lucas. 

“Wet,” says El again. 

And Mike is a second away from throttling them all, because maybe before he could have gotten away with letting Will take his bed, and just spent the night on the basement couch, but now that they’ve said it aloud, it would be weird for him to say ‘no, we can’t share a bed, Will, because actually I have extremely un-heterosexual feelings for you and I will probably end up holding your hand or doing something equally stupid.’

Will nudges his side. “Guess we will.”

And between that and the frankly demonic grins the rest of his friends are sporting right now, Mike knows he is absolutely, one hundred percent, completely doomed. Of course, this is Max’s plan. He should have seen that one coming. 

Once Mike’s finished mopping the laundry (because he doesn’t even want to think about his mom’s face if he left it like that), they finally settle in the basement to watch a Christmas film. It passes far too quickly, and Mike feels like he barely has time to appreciate how Will sits next to him, legs tucked under himself, ankles and socked feet draped over Mike’s lap. Before he knows it, his mom is calling them all upstairs for dinner. And in what feels like an instant, the rest of the party has left, El has flounced upstairs to her room, and the parents are sipping mulled wine in the living room and talking about adult things. It’s only 9 o’clock, but he and Will wander up the stairs and set about getting ready for bed. 

Mike dawdles in the bathroom after brushing his teeth, trying to put off the inevitable. He even takes the extra time to floss while giving himself another mental pep-talk, and by the time he’s pushing open his bedroom door, he feels almost confident. 

“Hey,” he says, trying to sound casual. Will is sitting on his desk chair, absent-mindedly flipping through a comic book.

“Hi,” he says back, gesturing to the bed. “Want to go to sleep? I know it’s kind of early, but our flight was at, like, 2am this morning, and I feel like I’m about to collapse from exhaustion.” 

Mike grins at him. “Well, we can’t have that can we?” He switches off his bedroom light and makes his way to his bedside, turning on his lamp. Before he can think too much about it, he slides under the covers, carefully positioning himself so none of his body crosses the halfway mark of the bed. Will doesn’t seem to have any such qualms because when he joins him, he curls up right next to Mike, nudging their ankles together, and turning to face him on the pillow.

“We haven’t done this in a while,” he says in a whisper.

“Not since we were maybe ten,” Mike agrees.

“Remember when you used to have a bunk bed? And I always would start in the top bunk, but if I ever left to go to the bathroom or something, I would never be able to climb back up the ladder in the dark, so I would just sleep with you instead.”

Mike laughs at the memory. “Yeah, you were way too short to even be climbing that ladder in the first place. The steps were weirdly far apart.”

Will nods in agreement and then says with a hint of teasing: “Well, I’m not that short now, am I? I’m almost as tall as you.”

“Almost,” Mike whispers back. “But not quite.”

Will hums in response and then yawns. “Okay, I really am tired now.” Then he hesitates. “Um, leave the lamp on?”

Mike nods quickly. “Of course.”

Will sends him a sleepy smile, and tugs the duvet over his shoulders. “Thanks,” he whispers. Mike watches as his eyes slowly flutter shut and his breathing evens out, and wow, Will was not joking when he said he was tired, because it took him all of about thirty seconds to fall asleep. 

Mike does not experience the same luxury. He lies awake for what feels like hours, feeling hyper aware of every place Will is touching him, and really, Will couldn’t possibly have laid down any closer, could he? Mike’s almost falling off the edge of the bed, and he longingly eyes the large, empty space on the other side of Will. Of course, he doesn’t mind being close like this (quite the opposite, in fact), but the point remains; he is about two inches away from crashing painfully to the floor. 

Carefully, he eases his arm free where Will is holding it, and tries to somehow maneuver his body over the top of Will’s and make it to the other side. Of course, his plan fails abysmally when Will rolls over and accidentally dislodges Mike’s arm, sending him toppling down onto him. Will lets out a sound of muffled confusion, and Mike scrambles off as fast as he can.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “It’s just me - I was kind of falling off the edge, so I tried to move.”

Will blinks his eyes open blearily and squints at him. “And you climbed on top of me? Instead of getting out of bed and walking to the other side.”

Right. That would have been the obvious solution. “I didn’t think of that.”

Will lets his eyes fall shut again. “Sorry for squishing you,” he mumbles. “I’ll lie further away.”

“No, it’s fine!” Mike says a little too loudly in his haste to let Will know that he really doesn’t mind. “It’s fine, I don’t mind. Let’s just lie a little bit more in the middle of the bed, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay,” Will says, and rolls back over towards Mike again, tucking his head under Mike’s chin. “Goodnight.”

Mike awkwardly wraps an arm around Will’s shoulders and wriggles around until he’s fairly comfortable, with Will’s head resting on his chest and his hair tickling his nose. He feels somewhat surprised that Will is being so affectionate, although they had been fairly tactile with each other before he moved away, so really, why would now be any different? But something about it being in bed makes it feel a million times more intimate and Mike’s stupid heart skips a beat. 

He admits to himself that, annoyingly, Max’s plan seems to have worked incredibly well. He’s definitely not going to tell her that, but still. There’s a vague sense of gratitude floating around his body as he finally drifts off to sleep. Phase one is over, and they have two more to go.

Phase Two: Lucas’ Stratagem

After Max’s plan yesterday went off without a hitch, Lucas apparently decides to let Mike in on his own plan a little bit, and pulls him aside when the party arrives after breakfast.

“Okay, today is phase two,” he whispers. “It’s a two-pronged approach. A stratagem, if you will.”

“A stratagem?” Mike whispers back. “What are we meant to be out-strategizing?”

“Your romantic incompetence,” answers Lucas. And ouch. Mike secretly thinks that Will didn’t seem to mind his romantic incompetence last night, but he says nothing. “All you have to do today,” Lucas continues, “is be your usual hopeless self. It’s the perfect plan because it capitalizes on who you and Will are as people. You’re clumsy at the best of times, and Will is generally coordinated. The two prongs. It’ll be great.”

Mike quite honestly has no idea what Lucas is talking about, but the promise that his clumsiness is going to come in useful isn’t one that he particularly likes. It’s not his fault that his limbs are far too long for his own good.  

He starts to understand when Lucas turns to the party, at large, and announces: “Ice skating.” 

Mike fights back a groan. He sucks at ice skating. “Do we have to? I mean, it’s freezing out.”

“You’re just scared because you have terrible balance,” Max argues.

El jostles his shoulder and says, “Like bambi on ice.”

Will turns to look at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Come on, Mike. It’ll be fun. El and I skate all the time back in California, and the lake is so pretty this time of year.”

And when Will is looking at him like that, how could Mike possibly say anything but yes? “Fine. But if I fall on my ass, I’m holding all of you responsible.” He points a threatening finger around the room as Max rolls her eyes. 

Will beams at him, and then ducks a little closer. “Don’t worry,” he says in an undertone as the party starts pulling on coats and hats. “If you’re really that bad, I’ll hold your hand.”

Okay, so maybe ice skating is, in fact, a terrific idea. He hates and loves the fact that Lucas most definitely saw this coming. He convinces his mom and Mrs Byers, who are drinking wine in the kitchen, to let them borrow a car, and after a warning to drive carefully, the party is off. 

Lover’s Lake (and no, the irony of the name does not escape Mike’s notice), is always frozen over at this time of year, and it’s a long-held Hawkins tradition for it to be set up as an ice rink. Fairy lights have been strung over tree branches at the shore, and a stall is set up renting ice skates for a few dollars an hour. He pushes Will’s hand aside when he tries to pay, figuring that he should at least try to put a bit of effort into making this date-like. It’s definitely worth it when Will leans close to his ear to whisper a thank you that makes his neck tingle. 

The party kick off their shoes and pull on their skates, and make their way (some with more difficulty than others) onto the ice. Will immediately speeds off, hand in hand with El and the two start a lap around the outskirt of the fenced-off portion of the lake that forms the rink. All bundled up in their winter coats and hats, they look closer to twins than siblings, and the sight makes Mike feel warm.

“So much for holding your hand, huh?” Lucas’ voice sounds in his ear.

Mike whirls around unsteadily on his skates. “You heard that?”

Lucas gives him a knowing smirk. “This is my plan, Wheeler. It’s my job to hear things.”

“Okay, calm down, you’re not a superspy.”

And then Lucas actually winks. “Maybe I am.”

Mike narrows his eyes, suspicious. “What do you know that you’re not telling me?”

Lucas just shrugs, and starts skating away towards Max.

“Lucas!” Mike shouts after him. “If you’re not going to tell me, at least help me skate!”

Dustin sidles up to him after Mike’s spent a few seconds hopelessly spinning on the spot. “Looks like it’s just you and me now, huh?”

Mike can’t help the longing glance he throws in Will’s direction. “Right. You and me.”

Unhelpfully, Dustin is almost as bad at skating as he is, and together they attempt to unsuccessfully propel themselves towards the center of the lake. (“You’re terrible at this-” “Oh, like you’re any better-” “Stop leaning on me!” “I have to lean on you, you’re shorter than me-”)

Eventually the Wonder Twins make their way towards them, probably out of pity. They stop right in front of Dustin and Mike, and Will looks frustratingly elegant on his skates. 

Mike glares at him. “How the hell are you so good at this?”

Will simply grins, and reaches forward to take Mike’s hand, and Mike’s annoyance immediately evaporates. “Come on, I’ll teach you.”

El and Dustin seem to get the hint, and they start to skate away together, leaving Will and Mike standing on their own, right in the middle of the rink. In Mike’s mind he can picture that if they were looking at the lake from above, he and Will would be standing somewhere in the top-right-hand-corner of the heart that it’s shaped into. 

“Your hands are freezing,” Will remarks, starting to tug Mike along. “Come on, move your feet a little. No - don’t lift them up! Just glide.”

“Easy for you to say,” Mike mutters, although he’s no longer irritated. “Tell me again how long it takes to learn this?”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it. El and I go skating pretty much every weekend. There’s not much else to do in Lenora Hills.”

He says Lenora Hills with a little eye roll that makes Mike pause. “I thought you were enjoying California?”

Will makes a face. “Well, yeah, I mean school is good - less bullies and all, and definitely less creepy supernatural stuff, but still.” He squeezes Mike’s hand. “It doesn’t have you.”

And that feels like an opening, if there ever was one. Mike squeezes his hand back. “I’ve really missed you. I know I say it on our calls all the time, but it’s true. Hawkins isn’t the same without you.”

Will’s face is flushed, and Mike hopes that it's from his words and not just from the cold. As they slowly shuffle along Mike has to fight the urge to do something ridiculous, like kiss Will. He settles for snatching the red beanie off Will’s head with his spare hand instead, and jams it on his own head.

“Hey,” Will protests. “Get your own hat.”

“This is my hat,” Mike informs him dryly. “You stole it from my wardrobe this morning.”

He expects Will to shoot another remark back at him, but instead he brings them to a stop, and slowly fixes how the hat is sitting on Mike’s head, tugging out a few pieces of hair that were caught. “Well, if you’re going to steal it back, at least wear it properly,” he says quietly. 

Mike’s face feels much warmer than the hat could ever make him, and Will can definitely tell because he starts grinning. “Feeling warm?” he asks innocently.

Mike just punches his arm before grabbing his hand again. “Come on, let’s skate. I think I’m getting the hang of it now.”

He was not, in fact, getting the hang of it. But after a while (and more than a few stumbles that had Will catching him before he could topple onto the ice), he’s finally able to glide forward with some semblance of coordination. Both he and Will conveniently ignore the fact that they probably don’t need to hold hands anymore, and start making their way over to where the others have gathered near the shore.

“Well, don’t you two look adorable,” Lucas teases. Mike grabs a handful of snow from the bank and shoves it in Lucas’ face. The movement makes him tilt forward a little, and Will grabs him around the waist to steady him.

Lucas now looks positively gleeful. “Shut up,” Mike mutters. Then, because he wants a distraction: “There’s hot chocolate being sold on the other bank. Shall we?”

El quickly agrees, clapping her mittened hands together, and as one, they all set off. Mike may or may not purposefully stumble at the start so that Will holds his hand again. Max shoots him a look, but hey, it works, so Mike is not complaining. The others start up a light conversation that Mike lets fade into the background as he sneaks glances at Will out of the corner of his eye. Halfway across the lake, it starts snowing, and little snowflakes hang off Will’s eyelashes and hair. Against the wintery white background and the distant fairlights that glow in the trees, he looks ethereal. Of course, then he shoots an evil grin at Mike and shouts: “Race you!”, and Mike’s moment of inner awe is promptly ruined.

Groaning to himself, he attempts to follow the rest of the party as they speed across the lake, whooping and shouting. He’s vaguely impressed with himself when he makes it to the other shore in one piece, only a minute behind the others, and also ahead of Dustin. Will grins at him and presses a styrofoam cup of hot chocolate into his hands.

“Good job,” he says, steam from his own cup floating in front of his face. “You didn’t fall over.”

Mike takes a sip of chocolate and immediately regrets it as he burns his tongue. “Yeah, well, you’re a good teacher.” He sticks his tongue out and attempts to catch snowflakes to soothe the burn, and Will laughs at him. They make their way over to a quiet spot on the shore, a little ways away from the hot chocolate stand, and sit down on a tree root. Mike watches his friends as El attempts to teach them all to skate backwards.

Will presses his leg against Mike’s and asks: “Having a good time?”

“Yeah,” he replies, honestly. “Yeah, I really am.”

The smile that Will gives him is brilliant. “I’m glad.”

“I have a good time whenever I’m with you,” Mike blurts out, unable to stop himself. He promptly buries his head in his hot chocolate cup and blows so the steam rises, hiding his face from view.

Will is quiet for a moment before he speaks again. “That’s how I feel about you, too,” he says, voice soft. “You always make everything better.”

Mike feels as if someone has dumped his hot chocolate on his head, with the way his whole body is suddenly warm. Feeling daring, he wraps his arm around Will, and Will responds by tucking his head onto Mike’s shoulder. And for a moment, it feels like the whole world grinds to a stop. Mike can no longer hear the laughter of his friends, all he can feel is the gentle tickle of Will’s hair against his neck, and the sweet taste of chocolate in his mouth. He wonders if Will also tastes of chocolate. 

Gently, he squeezes Will’s shoulder and says, “I wish you were here all the time. I know California’s been good for you and El, but still. I just wish you could stay for a little bit longer.”

Will rests his hand on Mike’s leg and exhales slowly. “I wish I could stay, too.”

There’s something in his tone that Mike doesn’t quite know how to place. Almost like he’s hiding something. But the moment is a little too perfect for him to press further, so he just accepts Will’s words with a smile that’s a little bit sad. At least, when they’re back in separate states, he can rest easy in the knowledge that Will misses him too.

Phase Three: The Dustin Conspiracy

The next morning commences day three: phase three. Mike has to admit that everything has gone surprisingly well so far, and when Dustin announces that it’s time for: “Christmas baking,” Mike is expecting today to go great. They stick on some Christmas music, pull a gingerbread recipe from a magazine, and get to work.

Of course, between the six of them, things rapidly devolve into chaos, as Lucas attempts to crack eggs, El tries to whip butter, and Dustin sits on the counter and calls instructions (“No, Lucas, don’t put the shell in-” “I’m not trying to put the shell in-” “Max that’s flour not sugar!” “And who died and made you head chef, Dustin?”).

Mike shoots Will a smile as they hunt around for the cookie cutters. “Our friends are so peaceful, aren’t they?”

“Oh, of course,” Will replies with a smirk. “So sweet and quiet.”

“Tender and mild,” Mike remarks as Silent Night plays over the speakers. They look at each other once more before bursting into a fit of laughter.

“Oh! Here.” Will pulls out a metal tin while Mike wipes tears from his eyes. “We haven’t used these since we were about six-years-old.”

“I remember that,” Mike says fondly. “We totally almost burnt down the kitchen.”

Will opens the tin and pulls out a reindeer cutter. “Yeah, we left them in the oven for too long and you cried like a baby.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Okay, did you miss the part where we were six-years-old?”

Will grins at him. “But you were so sweet though. You forced yourself to eat a whole cookie because you were so worried that I would be upset if you didn’t like them.”

Mike busies himself with unpacking the tin, feeling a little embarrassed. “I didn’t want you to be disappointed.”

“Wow, that’s weirdly nice of you, Mike,” Max says jokingly. “Where was that attitude when I came along?”

Mike flushes at her words, not realizing the rest of the room was listening in. It’s not often that he or Will share stories from before the party, when it was just the two of them, but he knows that Dustin and Lucas are always keenly interested. Sure enough, Lucas chimes in,

“Tell us more stories, Will.”

“Yeah, tell us baby Mike stories!” El’s face is bright with intrigue. “I want to hear.”

“Oh, sure,” Mike grumbles. “What, is it Embarrass Mike Day today?”

“Oh, come on,” Will pouts, and for a moment Mike does feel like a child again, as if he’s got six-year-old Will staring back at him. “Just one?”

Mike rolls his eyes and relents with a waved hand. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

He sets about stirring the ingredients together, because someone has to (what even is nutmeg?), while Will starts telling a story. Thankfully, it’s only about the one time that Will accompanied the Wheeler’s on vacation, and nothing too embarrassing.

As he fumbles his way through the recipe, he relaxes a little. He’s missed Will’s storytelling voice - it reminds him of the rare occasions when he would agree to be Dungeon Master. He can tell by the reactions of his friends, that they too are a little entranced. It’s not often that Will lets himself go like this, and really gets into something, but it certainly is a sight to behold. With the gingerbread dough done, Mike leans an elbow on the counter and rests his gaze back on Will. They lock eyes for a moment, and Will gives him a brilliant smile that makes his stomach flip. By the time the story ends, Mike has rolled out the dough and used the cookie cutters to make (slightly messy) reindeers and gingerbread men. 

“So, I guess you’ve always been this stupidly earnest,” says Max. Mike considers the assessment. It’s something that Will has actually said to him before, albeit in a much nicer way. That one of his favorite things about Mike is how he acts with so much sincerity and conviction no matter the situation. 

“Guess so,” he replies, shooting a sideways glance at Will, who is still smiling at him. “Let’s get these in the oven.” He gestures to the tray. “And, let’s not forget to take them out, this time.”

Will laughs and grabs the tray off the bench. “We can’t have you crying again, can we?”

They smile at each other for a second, reminiscing. 

Of course, the moment is ruined when Dustin opens up the tin of cinnamon and tips it onto Will’s head.

“Dustin!” Will splutters, as powder rains down all over his hair and his sweater. “What was that for?”

“Oops,” Dustin says innocently. “Slipped.”

Mike waves his hand in front of his face and coughs slightly as cinnamon powder works its way into his lungs. He shoots a glare at Dustin, taking Will’s arm and walking him to the sink.

“Don’t open your eyes,” he warns. “It’s like, all over your face.”

He wets a paper towel and goes to hand it to Will, but he catches Dustin miming something out of the corner of his eye. A very over the top charade of him pretending to wipe something of El’s face, who is giggling in the corner. Mike rolls his eyes but gets the picture.

“Okay, hold still,” he says to Will, before gently wiping the towel over his eyelids. Feeling a little self-conscious under four sets of eyes he sends them all a glare over his shoulder.

“Would you lot do something useful? Like wipe up the mess? Or put the biscuits in the oven?”

They spring into action with sheepish grins, grabbing more paper towels to wipe cinnamon off the floor and benches, and Lucas shoves the baking tray into the oven.

“Am I good yet?” Will asks him. Mike wipes his face a few more times.

“Think so.” Will’s hazel eyes blink open and he sends Mike a grateful smile, before shaking his hair out like a dog. Mike laughs and grabs him by the arm to steady him when he gets a little dizzy.

Will blows his fringe out of his face and holds his arms out as if presenting himself for inspection. “Better?”

Mike looks at him consideringly. “I think you need a new jumper.”

Will makes a face and goes to pull his ruined jumper off.

“Just chuck it in the laundry,” Mike says. “I’ll grab you a new one.”

He runs up the stairs and into his room, spotting Will’s suitcase on the floor next to the bed. He pauses for a moment, considering, before turning to his own wardrobe and pulling out a forest green sweater that Nancy got him last Christmas, that has on it a little dinosaur wearing a Santa hat. He grins to himself. Perfect.

When he comes back downstairs, Will is apparently in the bathroom. Mike rounds on Dustin immediately. “What was up with that?”

Dustin gives him a knowing look. “It was the perfect plan, that’s what’s up. Close physical contact plus helping someone in a time of need? That’s a recipe for love if I’ve ever heard it.” Then, he points down at the sweater in Mike’s hands. “And that is definitely your jumper, you wore it last Christmas. Sharing clothes is romantic trope number one.”

Mike squints at him. “You sound like a conspiracy theorist. Or like you’ve read too many romance novels.”

Dustin just shrugs benignly and Will re-enters the kitchen, hair dripping.

“Dude, what did you do?” Lucas asks.

Will grimaced. “Stuck my head under the tap. I thought it would be a good way to get rid of the cinnamon.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” says Dustin. 

Will sends him a look. “Sure you are.”

Mike hands him the jumper, and Will doesn’t say anything about the fact that it’s not his. 

“Well.” Dustin claps his hands, looking pleased. “Let’s check on those cookies, shall we?”

Later on, when the party has left and Mike and Will are curled up in bed (yes, Mike didn’t feel the need to remind Will that the sleeping bags were now dry, and no, Will didn’t feel the need to ask), Will brings up the jumper thing. He’s still got it on, as the weather is just cold enough to wear sweaters to bed. 

“So, this isn’t mine,” he says, tweaking the neckline. 

Mike scrambles for an excuse. “Uh, I couldn’t find your suitcase?”

Will looks at him disbelievingly.  

“I mean, I couldn’t find a jumper inside your suitcase?”

Will smiles. “It’s okay, Mike. I like this jumper.”

“Oh. Right.” Mike can’t stop himself from adding: “It looks good on you.”

Will says nothing, just ducks his head a little so it sits below Mike’s face. Mike suspects that he’s hiding a blush, which makes him ridiculously happy. And yep, sure enough, when Will pulls back his cheeks are slightly flushed. 

“Your hair still smells like cinnamon,” Mike whispers.

Will grins and promptly shoves his head under Mike’s nose again. Mike pushes him gently away and sneezes. “God,” he says, eyes watering. “Dustin really did a number on you.”

Will shrugs, running his hand through his hair so it sits back off his forehead. “I like cinnamon.”

“You’re going to make my sheets smell,” Mike complains, although he really doesn’t mind.

“Yeah, and everytime you go to sleep, you’ll have good memories. That’s how olfaction works, right? You’ll smell a good smell and have nice dreams.”

Mike laughs. “Okay, nerd. When did you swallow a biology textbook? I’ll be sure to sniff my pillows real hard after you’re gone so I dream of you.”

Will smiles back, and Mike’s only half-joking, because the scent lingers in his nose and he’s sure that from now on cinnamon is only ever going to remind him of Will. 

They settle down into the bed, and even after just two nights, Mike doesn’t hesitate to draw Will closer when he curls his body around Mike’s. 

“Christmas Eve tomorrow,” he whispers. “You excited?"

He feels Will nod against his chest. “Yeah. I kind of like Christmas Eve better than Christmas Day. Just the anticipation of it all.” His words are blurry with sleep, so Mike just hums in response. 

Will whispers a goodnight, and Mike just about whispers one back before he too drifts off, the scent of cinnamon in his nose. And you know what? That night he does have good dreams. 

Phase Four (Suprise Edition): El’s Wisdom Saves The Day

Mike, Will, and El spend Christmas Eve morning babysitting Holly, and really, Mike doesn’t think he’s ever seen a more adorable sight than Will teaching his little sister how to draw. They lounge about the living room floor, eating candy canes with the radio on, and Mike spends most of the morning with a dopey smile on his face, which El definitely teased him about, but he’s far too gone on the whole situation to really care. Of course, when she drags him into the kitchen under the pretense of getting snacks, he starts to care a little more.

“What are you doing?” Blunt and straight to the point, as she always is.

“What do you mean?” Mike tries to dodge the question. “We’re babysitting Holly.”

El sends him a pointed look that Mike just knows she’s picked up from Max. “I mean, what are you doing with Will?”

“Oh, that.” Mike struggles for an answer. “I don’t really know.” Truthfully, there have been half a dozen times over the past few days where Mike thought that Will was going to say something to him. He had been hoping that something would be Will confessing his feelings because after all, Will had always been the brave one.

“The plans,” El prompts. “Have they been working?”

Mike fills up a glass with juice for her, and then for himself, just to give his hands something to do. “I think so,” he says slowly. “I mean we keep having all these moments.”

“Moments?”

“Yeah, like, when we were ice skating, or even last night when we watched that movie, he put his head on my shoulder.”

El sips her juice. “You want to know what I think?”

“Always.”

“I think plans are stupid. And we’re not stupid.”

“Well,” Mike says, thinking of the party. “We’re probably a little stupid.”

El giggles. “No, I mean that you don’t need a plan. Will’s my brother, and I know he is brave, but he will never tell you how he feels without you bringing it up first.”

“Well, maybe if I drop enough hints-”

“Hints?” El makes a face of disgust. “No hints. I hate hints. I wish people would just say how they feel, all the time. It would make everything so much easier.”

And Mike has to agree. “So, you think I should just confess? Just say it?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Okay, but what if he doesn’t like me back?” Although a lot of his doubt had been washed away this week, Mike can’t help the little bit that remains.

El’s tone is gentle when she speaks. “Mike, none of that matters. Will loves you and he is always going to be your best friend. Even if he doesn’t feel the same, he won’t be angry. He would never be angry with you. You should just tell him.”

And that’s probably the most reassuring thing Mike has ever heard in his life.

“God, when did you get so wise?” He nudges El with his elbow.

El grins. “I’ve always been wise.” And for a moment, she seems so different to that little girl Mike had once hid in his basement.

“California’s been really good for you, huh?”

El nods. “Yes, it really has.” Then she pauses. “But I would still come back to Hawkins, if I could.”

“Really? Even after everything bad that’s happened here?”

“Hawkins is my home,” she says simply. “The first place I ever had a family. You, Max, Lucas, Dustin.” She floats her juice out of her glass and sends the bubble of liquid floating up towards the ceiling. “And now Will is my family, too. And I had brothers and sisters before, but they weren’t the same. Will and Jonathan and Joyce. They’re my family.” The juice falls back into the glass with a splash. “Me and Will have talked a lot. Helped each other. We understand each other. And I think we could do it - move back here.”

“Yeah?” Mike feels a little emotional. Not just about El and how free she’s become, but about the possibility that the Byers could once again call Hawkins their home.

“Yes. We’ve come a long way, Mike.”

He nods. “Yeah. Me too.”

They share a smile, and despite all their teasing and their hijinks, Mike feels truly grateful to have such great friends.

Then the doorbell rings and he hears Max shout, “Wheeler, open up. We’re freezing out here,” and the moment is effectively ruined. 

He sends an exasperated glance at El. “Can’t get one moment of peace around here.” 

The doorbell rings again, and El grins and runs into the hallway. “Who needs peace when you have friends?” she calls over her shoulder.

Mike supposes that’s true. The parents arrive back home a few minutes after the party, so he’s able to give Holly back to them, and join the others in the basement. Mrs Byers pokes her head in after a few moments and pulls El and Will away for ‘family stuff’, whatever that means. And with Will gone, so is Mike’s safety shield and the interrogation starts immediately.

“So, what’s been happening-”

“The ice skating was totally romantic. You guys looked like you were on an actual date-”

“I know that the sleeping bags are still in the laundry, Wheeler, so don’t even deny that my plan worked-”

“Okay, everyone shut up,” he says loudly. He tries to summarize. “Nothing has happened, ice skating was fun, don’t even talk to me about sleeping bags, and no, Dustin, cinnamon in the face is absolutely not romantic.”

“Hey, let’s not forget that there wouldn’t even be a plan, if not for me. Cinnamon or no cinnamon, I deserve credit.”

Mike makes a face. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Nothing’s even happened yet.”

“But you’ve shared a bed, right?” Max asks, leaning forward. “And Will is definitely not wearing his own jumper.”

“You held hands, basically all day at the ice skating rink. That has to mean something-”

“Okay, okay,” Mike holds his hands up, somewhat regretting even getting himself into this situation. “If something does happen - and that’s an if, I’ll let you know. Now, can we lay off the questioning? I feel like I’m in one of my mom’s rom-coms.”

“The fact that you even know what a rom-com is tells me everything I need to know,” says Max.

Mike flips her off.

“Mike!” Will’s voice travels down to the basement. “Come up here for a second?”

Lucas grins. “Better go see what he wants, huh?”

“Yeah, have fun up there, loverboy-”

“No, Dustin, absolutely not.”

Mike scurries up the stairs, feeling a little relieved to escape the questioning (and Dustin’s horrifying nicknames). He passes El on the way up. “Any idea what’s up?”

Her eyes gleam. “Good news, I think.”

That bodes surprisingly well, so Mike runs up the rest of the stairs, taking them too at a time. In the front hallway, Will is waiting for him.

“What’s up?”

Will doesn’t say anything, just grabs Mike’s arm and pulls him outside onto the back porch. 

“Okay,” Mike laughs, as he follows. “What’s going on?”

Will pulls the back door shut, and turns to Mike. He’s beaming, eyes alight, and Mike suddenly thinks that this is it. His efforts over the past few days haven’t gone unnoticed. And Will’s about to tell him that he feels the same. That he likes him. Will opens his mouth to speak, and Mike’s heart just about jumps out of his chest.

“We’re moving back to Hawkins!” Will bursts out, looking giddy with happiness.

And…that’s not what Mike expected. His heart dampens a bit in disappointment, before he actually processes the words that Will said, and it speeds right back up again. “What?”

“Yeah! We decided just then. Well, officially decided - we’ve been talking about it for months and I wanted to tell you so bad, but I didn’t want to get your hopes up just in case - but we’re doing it. We’re moving back.” 

The excitement in Will’s voice is palpable and Mike can’t help the reflexive smile that slides onto his face.

“This holiday, it was sort of like a trial run,” Will continues, a little less breathless than before. “To see if we could do it - you know, to see if me and El were okay. Make sure we don't feel anything, anymore.”

Mike nodded slowly, still feeling a little speechless.

“And we didn’t. So, we’re doing it. Just in time for senior year, too.”

And suddenly, Mike feels as if all his worries have evaporated. It was a quiet whisper of fear that he hadn’t expressed to any of his friends, when they first came up with the plan. That maybe, just maybe, if all of this worked, and Will did love him back, he would only end up going back to California and they wouldn’t even get to be together. Not properly. But now? The very thing he had wished for, ever since the Byers’ first moved away, was coming true. 

Will’s still looking at him, eyes bright and hopeful, face plastered with a smile that makes Mike’s heart jolt. Distantly, he hears his friends' voices in his head. Dustin’s bold, ‘what’s the worst that could possibly happen?’ Lucas’ dry, ‘assuming, of course, that he’s not already in love with you.’ Max’s - well, Max’s voice is less of a voice and more of a very pointed look. And lastly, El’s gentle and understanding, ‘you should just tell him.’

“Mike.” Will’s voice is a little hesitant. “Everything okay?”

And Mike means to say something reassuring and celebratory, he really does. He means to tell Will how excited he is that he’ll finally be coming home. Instead, his mouth moves without any input from his brain.

“I love you,” he blurts. No bells and whistles, no ribbons or wrapping. Just that, plain and simple. I love you. 

He looks up at Will, trying to gauge his reaction. Good or bad, he just needs to know what he thinks. Will’s face however, is schooled into a polite sort of confusion.

“Uh, I love you, too?” 

And it hits Mike, that Will, in all his unwillingness to make any assumptions, doesn’t quite grasp his meaning.

“No, that’s not what I mean,” Mike manages, heart pounding. “I mean - of course, I love you, but I really mean that I love love you. Like I’m in love with you.”

And now Will’s face shows his feelings, eyebrows raised slightly in shock, mouth parted, eyes wide in a mix of confusion that moves to understanding that moves to something akin to affection.

“Romantically.” Mike feels the need to clarify. “I mean in a romantic sense.”

“Oh,” Will says softly. And then they both just stare at each other for a moment, and Mike feels like if Will doesn’t say something right now then he will actually explode.

Will takes a little step closer, and Mike hones in on his mouth, telling himself it’s only because if Will speaks, his non-existent powers of lipreading will allow him to understand quicker, just what he is saying. But Will’s mouth doesn’t start forming a sentence. Instead, it just moves closer, and closer, and closer, until he’s hovering just an inch away from Mike’s lips. Suddenly, Mike tears his eyes away from Will’s mouth (which looks soft and pink and oh, so kissable) and up to meet his gaze. 

“Hi,” he whispers, and Will’s eyes crinkle in amusement.

“Hey.” Will shifts closer still, bracketing Mike against the porch railing with his arms.

“This is…cozy.” Mike mentally slaps himself for the awkwardness of that comment, but Will is huffing out a laugh that he can feel brush against his lips, and all rational thoughts disappear from his brain.

“Mike?” Will breathes, voice barely more than a whisper. Mike doesn’t think he’s managed a reply, but Will continues on anyway. “I love you, too.”

Then Will tilts his head forward, just a little bit more, and kisses him. And any semblance of sanity that Mike has left in his brain immediately melts into a puddle and seeps out of his body and between the porch floorboards. Will’s kiss is somehow exactly what Mike expected. It’s just Will. Soft and sweet, but also sure of itself, with a hand reaching up to gently hold Mike’s jaw. He tastes of peppermint, like the candy canes they were just eating, and his lips are warm. He eases Mike back against the railing, and Mike lets him, sure that if Will’s other hand wasn’t holding his waist, he would currently be collapsed on the floor. 

When Will pulls back, Mike feels in a daze. He vaguely registers that Will is saying something to him, and pulls enough power back into his brain to ask: “What? Sorry, what did you say?”

Will gives him a knowing little grin, like he is well-aware of the effect he is having. “I asked if this is why you’ve been acting so weird? Not just you, but everyone.”

“Oh,” Mike says, cheeks flushing. “Maybe a little bit. We were kind of trying to make you fall in love with me - we had a whole plan and everything. Three steps.”

“Three whole steps?” Will teases. “Well, too bad the whole thing was unnecessary, because I’ve been in love with you for years.”

Mike pretends that he doesn’t hear the amazed little giggle that exits his own voice box. “Lucas said something like that. That the plan assumed that you weren’t already in love with me.”

“Ah, yeah, he kind of already knew,” Will admits sheepishly.

“What ? He knew?”

“Well, falling in love at eleven-years-old is a big deal! I had to tell someone, and it’s not like I could talk to you, so Lucas seemed like a good option.”

Mike shakes his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe he knew this whole time.”

“Yeah, we’ve had a lot of phone calls about it,” Will says. And then Mike pauses, as he realizes something.

“Eleven-years-old? You fell in love with me when you were eleven-years-old?”

Will flushes. “Um, yeah. It’s been a long time, I know, but-”

“I was ten,” Mike cuts him off, and Will blinks up at him. “I was ten when I fell in love with you.”

“Oh,” Will breathes. Then his face breaks out into a grin and he pokes Mike in the ribs. “So, you totally fell first. I am never going to let you live that down.”

And then he darts forward once more to place a quick kiss on Mike’s lips. When he goes to pull back, Mike grabs onto the front of his sweater - no, Mike’s sweater, that Will is still wearing - and holds him in place. He feels Will smile against his lips for a moment, before he obliges and kisses Mike again. 

Mike lets his brain go fuzzy and focuses on the smooth, warm movements of Will’s mouth. He lets himself get swept away on the wave that’s crashing through his body, making his stomach feel pleasantly warm, and his skin tingle. Where Will learnt to kiss like this, Mike has no idea, but he isn’t complaining. When Will pulls back, Mike has to physically stop himself from chasing his lips again, and Will huffs out a little laugh.

He feels as if a million thoughts should be racing through his brain right now - he should be trying to process the wave of happy emotion he is currently feeling, but instead when he opens his mouth, all he manages to say is: “Kiss me again?”

And yep, he supposes that just about sums up the only coherent thing in his head right now. Luckily, Will obliges, and tilts his chin up to capture Mike’s lips in another kiss. And wow, it’s just as head-swimmingly good as the last two, and Mike knows he is never going to get sick of this feeling. Will retreats though, after only a brief moment and bumps his forehead gently against Mike’s.

“We should probably head back inside. The others will be wondering where we are.”

Mike’s about to protest, but then he thinks about everyone coming looking and finding them kissing on the porch, and makes a face. He doesn’t think he could stand the smug looks.

“Yeah,” he agrees, tangling Will’s hand in his own. “Let’s head back inside.”

He lets Will pull him towards the basement, and they pause on the stairs. Will holds up their joined hands. “Should we just tell them now? Get it over with?”

Mike’s about to agree, when another thought occurs to him. He looks at Will with a conspiring grin. “Or, we could make our own plan.”

Understanding blooms on Will’s face and he grins wickedly (and damn, if mischievous is not a good look on him). After a few minutes of planning, they push open the basement door, hands still joined. The chattering of their friends grinds to a halt, and Mike can see four sets of eyes look at his and Will’s hands, and then look frantically at each other.

“We have news,” Will says brightly, pulling Mike down onto the couch, so close he’s almost sitting in his lap. The others glance at each other once more, before jumping into a flurry of motion. Dustin drops the VHS tapes he was holding, Lucas and Max hurry over from where they were chatting by the window, and El releases her hold on the Millenium Falcon toy she was hovering, letting it drop to the ground with a crash. All four scramble over furniture items to come sit, stand, and kneel in front of the couch, and Mike feels vaguely like he’s a kindergarten teacher about to read a storybook. He nudges Will’s arm and asks: “Ready?”

Will nods and looks across at them all, pausing for a long moment to let the tension build. “Okay. Our news is…”

He stalls for an unbearably long time, so Mike pinches his side, wanting him to just spit it out so they can get their friends' reactions.

“Okay, okay. We’re moving back to Hawkins!”

“What?”

“That’s your news?”

“But what about-” El catches on quickly, and shuts Dustin up with an elbow to the side.

“Yes! That’s the big news,” she says, standing up and shoving herself onto the armrest of the couch next to Will. She slings her arm around his shoulder. “We’re moving back! For senior year.” She glances down at everyone’s shocked faces. “Well, aren’t you all pleased?”

Immediately, the rest of the party scramble out their happy responses. Max jumps up and squeals, wrapping El into a hug as Lucas and Dustin do the same to Will. Due to their proximity, Mike gets an elbow or two in the ribs and he shoves both of them off. 

“Okay, okay,” he laughs. He slides his hand onto Will’s leg and grins internally at the way Dustin’s eyes boggle. “Glad you’re all so pleased.”

Will leans forward and rests his chin on a hand, face breaking into a cheeky smile. “You all seemed so shocked. I mean, what other news were you possibly expecting?” Then he slides his hand into Mike’s where it’s resting in his lap, with a big exaggerated movement that draws everyone’s attention.

Lucas stares at Will, as if attempting to telepathically communicate. Will just stares at Mike who, in turn, stares at Dustin, who stares at El, who stares (and probably succeeds in telepathically communicating) at Max, who stares back at Lucas. 

Max is the first one to break the silence. “You’re fucking with us, aren’t you?”

And that’s enough to send Mike into a fit of laughter.

At once, four voices break into excited chatter. 

“I told you, Mike. Didn’t I say that this was a good idea-” 

“I know that my plan worked best. Ice skating is the perfect date-”

“Oh, come on, Lucas, you seriously think yours was the best? The sleeping bags are literally still in the laundry-”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Will laughs. “Everyone calm down.”

“So,” says El. “Are you dating now?”

Mike glances sideways at Will, feeling a little embarrassed by all the attention. And by the fact that they hadn’t actually taken the time to decide on that answer. But Will smoothes away his worries with a quick nod of his head.

“Yeah, but you don’t have to make a big deal of it.”

“Are you kidding? This is a huge deal-”

“You so owe us, Mike. This whole plan was a huge success-”

Mike sees Will’s confusion and leans over to give him a brief overview of the whole plan thing. “It’s kind of embarrassing, really,” he mutters at the end.

Will sends him a bright smile. “Nah. It’s kind of sweet.”

Max mimes vomiting at them, so Mike throws a pillow at her.

“So, Will, enlighten us. Did our plans work?”

Will contemplates. “Well, Lucas’ definitely. Max’s was a nice addition. Dustin - your plan was just chaos and I’m still finding cinnamon in my hair.”

“Hey-” Dustin tries to object, but Mike cuts him off.

“El’s plan worked the best.”

The others look around at each other in disbelief. “What? El didn’t even have a plan, she helped with mine,” says Max.

El smiles from her perch next to Will. “My plan was the best plan, because it wasn’t a plan.”

“She basically told me just suck it up and get it over with,” Mike explains. “Really, someone should have said something sooner.”

“We tried-”

“You wouldn’t hear a word of it-”

“Oh, so now you’re capable of talking to Will like a normal person-”

Will ducks his head down to stage-whisper in Mike’s ear. “They’re just so supportive, aren’t they?”

“Truly, we have incredible friends.”

Will laughs and wraps an arm around El. “Well, I definitely have an incredible sister.”

And honestly, the whole moment is so incredibly saccharine that if Mike was surrounded by any other group of people, he would have found the entire thing obnoxious. But he supposes that they are a bunch of sixteen-year-olds at the end of the day, and this has been a long time coming, so he sits back and lets the conversation wash over him.

After the chaos dies down a bit, Dustin brings back their attention to what is really, the most important question.

“Wait, so, you weren’t joking before right? With the whole distraction bit? You really are moving back to Hawkins?”

Will and El exchange glances. “Yeah, we are,” Will says. “The lab and the Upside Down - it’s all gone now. And it’s been long enough that El won’t be in danger, and long enough that living here doesn’t feel like a nightmare, anymore. So, yeah. We’re moving back.”

Will’s words bring the tone down just a notch, and Mike finds himself feeling silently grateful as the high-strung energy seeps out of the room. 

Max gives a firm nod and turns to El. “It’s going to be okay. In fact, it’s going to be great. And nothing’s happened for almost two years. You’ll be safe.”

“I know we will,” El says. “I’m sure of it.”

They all settle a little as the news sinks in. Lucas pulls El into a celebratory hug, and Dustin beams around at them all. 

“The party,” he proclaims with grandeur. “We were once apart, but now: together once more.”

Everyone collectively rolls their eyes (“Dustin, stop being pretentious-” “You seriously have got to start talking normally-” “You’re so overdramatic-”).

But the message sinks in nonetheless. The party is back, and they’re back for good. Mike grins to himself and nudges Will in the side. 

“Worthwhile trip, right?” he whispers. “And it’s not even Christmas Day yet.”

“Like I said,” Will whispers back. “Christmas Eve is always so much better.”

And he’s right. Between the overlapping chatter of his friends, the faint sound of Christmas music and wine glasses clinking from upstairs, the way Will is sitting next to him, their ankles tangled together, Hawkins has never felt more like home. 

[kiyomitakada]

FUCK i mixed up the order i thought misa’s parents’ killer was killed after the stalking but it’s the other way around. god damn it. okay just pretend it happened like this for my sake alright.

[last time on soulmate AU so you don’t have to reread: light met L at the student representative speech and Pointedly Did Not shake his hand, and also misa told her manager she was going to move to tokyo]

-

Light manages to avoid touching L for an impressive two days.

Even after tennis — when L extends his hand to him, in the traditional good-game handshake, Light pretends he doesn’t see it as he wipes his palms on his shorts and puts his racket back into the bag. L cocks his head for a second, then lowers his arm back to his side.

Will he think I’m Kira based on my standoffish behavior? No, Kira is dedicated to justice and cares about the people, there’s no way he’d be standoffish… But would Light Yagami be…? I’ll just act friendly to make up for it.

“I think we’re both thirsty, and there’s something I want to ask you, so — do you want to get a drink somewhere?” he asks, straightening and slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“Well, you beat me, so you can ask me anything you want,” L says. “But I ought to tell you something first.”

“What’s that?”

“I suspect you may in fact be Kira,” L says, as easy as anything. “If you still want to ask me questions after that, go ahead.”

Light swallows. Damn it. He can’t reasonably ask for proof that L is who he says he is, then, not until his suspicion is cleared. He got him again. How does L always keep one step in front of him?

“Haha,” he says, “me, Kira?”

“Well, when I say ‘suspect,’ I only mean by a factor of one percent,” L says. “Is your wrist alright, Yagami-kun?”

Light glances down. Oh. He lets go.

“Yeah, of course,” he says. “Just strained it a little.”

-

“Misa!” Akako’s tinny voice blares from the speakers. “Good news!”

“Huh?” Misa sits up, still holding her phone to her ear. “Akako-chan, it’s six in the morning…”

“I know! I’ll go to bed soon, just, listen, Misa! Remember the hexing circle I set up for you, for, uh, you-know-who?”

“The one with the voodoo doll I stabbed in the heart?”

“Yeah, that one! Check the detention center website, Misa! Do it right now!”

“Okay, okay,” Misa says, fumbling for her laptop. She has the website bookmarked by now. It loads slowly. There’s the usual banner of Kira victims running slowly on the top of the page—

Oh.

“Oh my god,” Misa whispers.

“He’s dead, Misa! He’s dead! You don’t have to go anymore!”

Kira… avenged her parents. Kira saved her.

A strangled sob escapes her throat.

“Misa? Are you okay?”

“This is the best day of my life,” Misa says.

“I know! Now you don’t even need to move to Tokyo—”

Misa hangs up. She wraps her hand around her neck and squeezes, just once.

She has to meet him. She has to say thank-you. Her life’s purpose has narrowed now; she’s one step closer to being free of it all.

There’s an odd thump.

Misa jolts, dropping the phone. She looks around. Everything’s in place, even the skull decoration that keeps falling off its hook. Huh. Wait, it sounded more like it came from the balcony…

She peers through the window, then frowns.

A notebook?

-

“Here, Ryuzaki, I got your t—”

“…”

“…”

“…Yagami-kun?”

“Oh, sorry. It’s nothing. My bad for bumping into you.”

“You did? I didn’t feel anything.”

“………Right. I didn’t feel anything, either.”

“So, what was it you wanted to ask me?”

“That can wait until you’re positive I’m not Kira. You go ahead and start, Ryuga.”

-

“Do Shinigamis have soulmates?”

“Is that what you humans call the ones who share the marks on your skin?”

“What else would you call it?”

“Scars. And no, we don’t.”

“Oh. …That’s a romantic way to think about it. But it must be lonely for you.”

“I’ve never wanted one before.”

“I could draw one on you! I’m pretty good at drawing, you know.”

“Would that not be even lonelier? To have a mark without anyone to share it with?”

“Ahahaha! You’re smart, Rem.”

-

It is a good thing that Ryuga isn’t his soulmate. It would have been dangerous, not to mention societally inappropriate. Light is happy about this.

He wishes he could talk to Ryuk in public, if only to yell at him to stop laughing.

-

“If I got the Shinigami Eyes, could I tell who my soulmate was?”

“No. It wouldn’t be helpful for us Shinigami, so we never evolved the function.”

“Darn,” Misa pouts. “Oh well. I want them anyway.”

“…Are you sure?”

“Yeah? Duh?”

Later in the afternoon, she’s very careful with her gloves as she slides the tapes into Akako’s envelopes. She can’t think of anything worse than someone who isn’t Kira getting their hands over her fingerprints.

-

L/Ryuga/Ryuzaki/whoever keeps brushing past him whenever Light goes to headquarters. Physically, that is. Leaving little sparks of contact in his wake.

It’s on purpose. It has to be, at this point.

What is his game? Does he think he can — seduce Kira, or something? Even if Kira was gay, surely L wouldn’t expect him to be attracted to the man hunting him down. Besides, physical proximity doesn’t fluster Light. He’s very used to it. His friends from high school slung their arms over his shoulders, elbowed him, high-fived him all the time.

“Here,” L says, dangling a piece of paper in front of him. “For you to compose your message to the fake Kira.”

He says fake with such conviction. “Thanks,” Light says. He doesn’t snatch it fast enough to stop L’s thumb from grazing his wrist.

Nothing happens. Nothing happened the past few hundred times, either.

“Did you need something else?” Light asks, when L doesn’t move.

“No,” L says. “I’ll leave you to it.”

-

Rem is very careful to never touch Misa. It’s honestly a little cute. She hovers over Misa like a shield as they walk down the streets of Aoyama, sharp-sharp-sharp claws turned away from Misa’s skin.

Misa has a phone wedged between her wig and her shoulder so it doesn’t look like she’s talking to air, but she still turns her face upward to grin at Rem when she says, “Are you excited for the show?”

“Not really,” Rem says. “Trying to find the other Kira is risky, Misa.”

“I know, you’ve only told me a thousand times!”

“I suppose I still don’t understand,” Rem sighs. “I gave you the notebook so you could protect yourself. I didn’t want Gelus’s sacrifice to be in vain.”

“I am protecting myself,” Misa says, tapping the wig. “Haven’t I been careful?”

“You’re putting your life in danger for someone you don’t even know.”

“Are you going to stop me, then?” Misa challenges. “Gonna kill me?”

“No!” Rem sounds legitimately horrified. Misa feels a little guilty for that, though she brightens when they walk past the Note Blue — the cafe should be close now. “I would never hurt you. But… if you hadn’t moved here, you could still be working—”

“I got a new manager, it’s fine—”

“—and you could fend yourself off from any more stalkers with the notebook. You could lead a happy life… away from all of this.”

“Oh, Rem,” Misa says, reaching up to boop the Shinigami’s nose. “You just don’t get it.”

“You’re so selfless,” Rem murmurs, drawing slowly, languidly away from Misa’s touch.

“I’m really not.” But she’s never gotten this point across to Rem no matter how she explains it. For one thing, if she had done what Rem suggests, she would probably have jumped out a window three months in. “Oh look, there’s the cafe!”

-

“Liiiiight!”

Light isn’t usually jumpy, but he flinches when Sayu shouts his name up the stairs. The TV broadcast is still going just as L had written: We can offer you clemency and police protection if you work with us to capture the First Kira…

He’s fucked. He’s so, so fucked. How did the fake Kira find him? Nothing happened in Aoyama! Nothing even happened in the Note Blue — Light just stood around with Matsuda for thirty painfully awkward minutes! He wasn’t old enough to get the margaritas!

I need a plan, he thinks, while he automatically rises to follow his sister’s voice. She’s probably doing her math homework again. He’s going to sell me out, he’s going to kill me, I need a plan—

“Your friend brought over your notebook!”

Light freezes in the doorway.

Notebook?

“Coming,” he says a second too late, hurrying down the stairs.

“I can’t believe you of all people forgot your notebook at school, onii-chan,” Sayu says, elbowing him a little as he goes by. “You’re losing your touch!”

Light manages to smile at her before he rounds the corner, too distracted to notice the way Sayu’s face slides into a frown. He yanks the door open.

………………

The fake Kira is a girl.

The fake Kira is… very blonde.

“N-nice to meet you,” says the only human alive who knows Light’s worst-best secret. “I’m Misa Amane.”

-

( @kiyomitakada )

proof of concept for the yagamane soulmate au (doesn't actually contain any yagamane yet) dont mind me

The only reason Sachiko isn’t running is because there are children swarming around her, laughing and giggling while she shoves her way through the hall. Where had the nurse’s office been on the map — she rounds a corner, tries to catch her bearings, then notices it: the sounds of someone crying.

Light.

Sachiko yanks the door open, heart pounding in her ribs. Light never cries — he used to as a toddler, of course, but after Sayu was born Sachiko can count on one hand the number of times he’s had a tantrum. Her baby is so mature. When the school had called and told her Light was having some sort of nervous breakdown, I think? she’d dropped everything without a second thought and taken a taxi here.

“There, there,” the nurse is saying, rubbing her son’s back. “It’s okay.”

“Don’t touch me,” Light hiccups, broken and high-pitched, and Sachiko would shout at the nurse to get away from him if not for the fact that Light’s little fingers have the nurse’s wrist in a vice grip as though afraid she'll go.

“Light,” Sachiko says, “I’m here, Light.” She drops her bag on the floor and drops to the floor, cradling his face in her hands; Light doesn’t resist. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“It doesn’t work,” Light sobs. His eyes are puffy with tears. From the nurse’s expression Sachiko surmises this has been going on for a while. “Mama — Mama, where’s Dad?”

Sachiko’s heart twists. “Your dad’s at work,” she says, brushing a soaked strand of hair out of Light’s face. The nurse, free of Light’s grasp, has moved a few paces away to give them space. Light collapses. His head flops on Sachiko’s shoulder; she has to shift her weight to hold him. “Honey, talk to me. What happened?”

“I t-tried everyone,” Light says, voice a little muffled in Sachiko’s sweater. “Even the o-older girls, and the boys, and — nothing happened.”

Well, that’s probably good, Sachiko manages to not say aloud. What business does Light have with the upper-grade kids? “Did you want something to happen?” she asks instead.

Light nods miserably. “Noriko-sensei s-says you’ll know when it does. You’ll see it.”

“When wh—?”

Sachiko stops. She thinks. Light’s hand has clamped around her wrist, like he did with the nurse’s, and for the first time she realizes. He’s covering her soulmate tattoo.

“Light,” she says slowly, “what did you do?”

She doesn’t mean for it to sound accusatory, but Light bursts into a new round of tears against her shoulder. Sachiko, shocked, wraps her arms around him, runs a hand through his hair. “It’s okay, Light,” she tries. “It’s okay!”

Light keeps sobbing.

Sachiko looks up at the nurse. “What class was he in just now?”

“Arts and crafts,” the nurse says. “They were making bracelets.”

The red camellias are printed in a woven pattern encircling Sachiko’s wrist. They are silent.

“It was my idea!” Light gasps out between hiccups.

Sachiko takes a moment before she speaks.

“Light, were you trying to find your soulmate?”

“I-it doesn’t make any sense,” Light says. His free hand is clenched in a fist. “You — you and Dad said — you’ll always meet —”

Sachiko swallows her horror. This is her fault. This is all her fault.

“Nurse,” she says, “could you please leave us alone?”

The nurse nods and withdraws through the door.

Sachiko sighs. She knew she’d have to give her kids the talk one day, but Light is only six, and she’d thought she had more time…

“Light,” she says, “soulmates aren’t real.”

-

The soulmate phenomenon is one of the greatest medical mysteries of all time. Not for a lack of literature: the abundance of evidence regarding soulmatehood stretches into Mesopotamian records. But it makes no sense. There are seven billion people alive. The chance of finding your soulmate, even without considering age and gender and all that, is almost nothing.

But it does happen. Misa knows, because her parents are soulmates.

To be honest, she’d had her doubts before. They screamed at each other, sometimes threw things, kept alternating being kicked out to cheap motels. But they always made up, in the end. Made up… passionately. Misa learned to put on music to drown it out.

“What does it mean?” she asked curiously one day, pointing at the bloodred ruby embedded in the hollow of her mom’s throat.

“It means he’s strangling me,” her mom said. “What do you want for breakfast?”

After her dad had gotten back from the motel she’d asked him instead.

“Well, Misa,” he said. “Your mother’s the worst bitch alive, and I’m the only one who can handle her right.” He touched his thumb to the ruby printed on his throat, fondness tugging at his smile. “We’re the same person. That’s what it means.”

Misa hadn’t really gotten it, back then. Why would two of the same people fight? If she could make another Misa she’d do it in a heartbeat. That way Other-Misa could do the chores for her.

…On second thought, maybe she did get it.

But anyway. Somewhere, subconsciously, she’d always doubted. Misa was very up-to-date on the latest celebrity scandals, and she knew how easy matching tattoos were to fake.

But now she is staring through the crack in the closet. There is blood pooling on the floor, a dull red compared to the bright, shining light glowing from her dad’s throat. She stares and stares and stares until it fades to the white color of a scar.

“Miss,” says the officer on the phone, “Miss! Stay calm, we’re almost there—”

“Don’t fucking bother,” Misa says, and hangs up.

Her mom had stumbled like she’d been stabbed when her ruby went white. Snapped at Misa to hide and call the police, then picked up a kitchen knife. Misa isn’t sure when the burglar whoever-it-was dragged her dad’s dead body to rest in her line of view, but she knows his throat had still been glowing until it wasn’t.

She’ll never doubt soulmates are real again.

-

Light is seventeen years old and the world is falling apart.

Soulmates, he scoffs to himself, whenever the topic comes up in discussion. Akasato is rambling about his girlfriend again and how they’re fated to be. Light isn’t jealous. Getting attached is the worst thing that could ever happen to someone.

“I swear, man, the way you talk about her I think your tattoo should’ve been a ball and chain,” Yamamoto says.

Akasato groans. “She’s not that bad! She sent me chocolates!”

“The same ones she gave that basketball guy?” Light laughs.

“Don’t remind me, I’ll kill him, I swear,” Akasato says. Grinning. Murder is so out of the realm of possibility it’s funny. “And anyway, she’s coming over for Christmas.”

“Oh, whoa,” Yamamoto says. “Happy for you.”

“Yeah, congrats,” Light adds.

His mom wasn’t lying, exactly. The chances of stumbling across your soulmate are effectively zero. There’s studies suggesting that it’s higher than random chance, that most found soulmates live in or around the same timezone as you, but he’s pretty sure they’re cherry-picking.

It’s much easier to fall in love with someone and make them your soulmate instead, his mom had explained to him softly, rubbing her wrist. Much easier to get a tattoo with them, rather than hoping it’ll show up on your skin at first touch. Maybe even more romantic. Your dad and I love each other, Light. Who cares if he’s not perfect? He’s good enough for me.

The last time a teacher called Light’s work good enough was in fifth grade. Light had sabotaged his swivel chair afterwards and he’d had to take a week off.

“Thanks, guys,” Akasato says. “Hey, Yamamoto, who’re you having over for Christmas?”

“Oh, you know, the usual.”

“Sending cards to girls again?” Light puts in.

Yamamoto snorts. “Not all of us are lucky enough to be like Aka-chan here—”

“You take that back—”

“—and find their soulmate in middle school,” Yamamoto finishes. “I’m going to keep trying.”

“You know you actually have to make contact with them for it to happen, right?” Light asks.

“Obviously!”

“Yagami’s right,” Akasato says, pleased he’s not the topic of conversation anymore. “Are you sure you’ve got enough game for that, Yamamoto? I think you’d faint if a girl held your hand.”

“I’ve had girlfriends!”

“Sure, sure,” Light says. They all laugh. It’s nice having friends. “Oh, here’s my stop.”

“See ya!”

Light enters the house. Gives his mother his test grades, lets her coo, then slips into his room and heads for the drawer.

There it is. Untouched.

Who needs soulmates, he thinks, when you can be the god of the new world?

-

Misa sits cross-legged on a repurposed picnic blanket spread awkwardly over the wet dirt. She sticks one rose each into the soil in front of her parents’ graves.

“Hey, mom, dad,” she starts. “I’m not gonna come back for a while.”

The graves are silent. They have been for almost a year now. One rose almost falls over; Misa hurriedly reaches to fix it.

“I’m going to move to Kanto,” she declares. “I’ll catch him no matter what I do. I know which jail he’s in already. The prosecutor told me.”

She sticks the rose back in with some violence. It droops. All the other ones she’s brought have wilted — obviously, because their stems were cut ages ago. She can’t plant seeds, though. That would require someone watering them.

“I’ll ask for a visit and get him to attack me,” she continues. “And then I’ll stab him, and I’ll scream, and I’ll tell everyone it was self-defense. What do you think, Mom?” She’d always been better at lying than Dad.

“Good idea? I knew it.” Misa hops up, brushing the dirt off the picnic blanket. “I’ll start getting ready soon. Next month, I think. Definitely.”

-

“Ah,” says the voice from the television screen. “I had to test this, just in case, but I-I never thought it would actually happen… Kira. It seems you can kill people without having to be there in person.”

Light freezes.

He was wrong, he realizes, for possibly the first time in his life. He was wrong. Someone’s out there.

“Try to kill me,” L’s saying, and Light can hear the smirk even through unknowable kilometers of distance. “What’s wrong? Go ahead! Can’t you do it?”

“You bastard,” Light hisses through his teeth, feeling so alive he could cry.

He shouts I am justice at the same time L does, grinning, half-manic, and doesn’t even realize he’s clutching his wrist.

-

“Please,” says the stalker in the shadows, “please, Misa-Misa, I just need to — I just need to touch —”

Misa backs away. This is a dead end alleyway. She should never have gone to the convenience store at night. Her and her empty refrigerator and her stupid hungry stomach. There’s a fire escape, maybe if she jumps—

“Can you even fucking hear me?” The stalker shouts.

Misa nods, automatic, and wonders if she should scream. No one’s around at this time of day. Who would even miss her?

“Just one touch,” the stalker says. “Come on!”

And then in a flash he’s running for her. Misa turns and sprints and leaps for the fire escape — and misses it. She collapses in a heap.

Her stalker has his hand on her cheek. She jerks away. Of all the fucking days she could have forgotten her pepper spray.

“It’s not you,” the stalker says, abruptly sounding like he’s about to cry. “How could it not be you?”

“Get away from me,” Misa says, stumbling to her feet.

“All the interviews I watched,” the stalker says. “I have all your magazines, Misa-Misa!”

“I haven’t been in that many issues,” says whoever is operating Misa’s vocal cords as she calculates her chances. She has to catch him by surprise, it’s the only opportunity she’s got, shove him and run—

Oh. He has a knife. Never mind that, then.

“At least we can die together,” the stalker says — or — tries to say. Misa watches in shock as his mouth clicks shut and he… turns away?

And then he clutches his chest, and he falls.

Misa stays there, sucks in a few more breaths of cold air, then runs.

-

@kiyomitakada (so i can reblog)

[mediumgayitalian]

fic rec friday 8

hi!! welcome to fic rec friday. every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!

After The War I Went Back To New York by @buoyantsaturn

now that everyone else has written their three-days fics heres mine

first of all -- hamilton title. giggle was giggled. second of all, will being soft on nico day ONE and nico noticing immediately is so so real. fave solangelo dynamic of all time. this is lichrally one of my top five three days fics bc its such a CLASSIC

2. Bones by @buoyantsaturn

“Did you just throw a handful of bones outside?” she asked carefully. “Yes,” Will answered immediately. “Why was there a pile of bones in here in the first place?”

will being super excited over nico's powers >>>>>> literally EVERYTHING else bc he is a huge massive nerd!!! and will's powers are SO SO SO cool!! and theyre basically the same coin anyway. what is necromancy if not healing magic but goth

3. Sunshine and Daisies by @buoyantsaturn

Whenever Will needed a break from studying, or had spare time between classes, he liked to walk around the city, wandering into random shops and looking around for a little while.

Will wanders into the di Angelo siblings' flower shop.

flower shop fics have a little je ne sais quoi, and oumph, if you will,,, they’re irresistible. also. ALIVE BIANCA???? its nearly impossible to do in canonverse but in au....i do adore. she does indeed deserve to be around to tease the shit out of her dweeb brother. it is ever so lovely to see.

4. Two Minutes for Hooking by @buoyantsaturn

He blinked his eyes open, glaring up at Will. “Who the hell are you?” “I’m the medic you’ve been avoiding every practice,” Will answered. “Who the hell are you?”

I LOVE THIS AU. i think its my fave buoyantsaturn fic tbh. like not to reinforce canadian stereotypes or anything but hockey aus are the BOMB, and short king hockey player nico x absolutely takes no shit will??? immaculate vibes. i adore. i adore so so much. i have literally read this series so often that im reasonably certain i could recite the first 500 words from memory

5. Hey There, Darlin' by @buoyantsaturn

Will was pretty, and Nico was angry about it. He knew he shouldn’t have come here. He knew he should’ve just gone back to his cabin and stayed there until breakfast the next day, but no. He saw a cute boy and had to go after him. Of course he did. And then Will had to act like Nico was some kind of savior during the wars, and he smiled at him. That smile alone was enough to make Nico realize that this trip was a mistake.

first of all -- #everything is the same except will is the epitome and they dont meet until now is THEE most intriguing tag maybe ever, i needed to read no more. second of all -- whipped nico. god hes my favourite. third of all the big house scene made me GIGGLE it was so fun and silly. adore.

thank you for joining me this friday!! happy reading!!

[killjoy-prince]

Birthmas manga and merch haul

[mishy-mashy]

Ray (BNHA Resistance OC) incorrect quotes

(Context: Ray is his codename. An OC forced into joining the Resistance after Bruce accidentally concussed him. His Ability was useful, so they wanted him)

~

Ray: I don’t have a New Year’s resolution

Yoichi: You could relax a bit more

Bruce: You could take a bath.

Kudo: Don’t be such a bitch.

Ray: Okay DAMN, SHIT.

-

Kudo: We've decided to adopt.

Ray, still concussed: Congratu-

Bruce, slamming recruitment papers onto the table: It's you, sign here.

-

Bruce: Before I forget, do you have any special requests?

Ray: Death penalty.

Bruce: Ray-kun, it’s just about living accommodations.

Ray, whispering: Please kill me.

-

Bruce: Why did you dress up as each other for this mission?

Ray: Leader is the scariest thing I could think of.

Kudo: Ray told me I should pick the dumbest disguise possible.

-

Kudo: Ray, I think you need glasses.

Ray: Leader, my vision is fine. Look.

Ray: *points at Kudo* Leader.

Ray: *points to Bruce* Bruce.

Ray: *points to Yoichi* All For One.

-

Yoichi: When I cried about my brother to Kudo, he hugged me and told me he'd carry my feelings into his battles

Ray: The first time Leader was ever nice to me, I thought he was a fake. It was such a disaster that I avoided him for like a week.

-

Kudo: The first time Yoichi opened a box of Cheerios and looked inside he yelled, "OH WOW! DONUT SEEDS!"

Kudo:

Kudo: I love him so much.

-

Bruce: It's locked. Can you open it?

Ray: Yeah-

Kudo: *kicks in the vault door*

-

Kudo, on the way back from rescuing Yoichi: You need to be more careful.

Ray, who was forced into this: Careful? CAREFUL?! I'LL CAREFULLY WRAP MY HANDS AROUND YOUR THROAT-

-

Kudo: Ray finally learned his gun had a safety lock, but he assembled a rifle last week.

Bruce: This reminds me of the Ray who couldn’t open a tabbed can, but can break into any lock.

Kudo: This is the very same Ray.

-

Bruce: This is the best idea I've ever had in my life!

*Many years later*

Kudo, to Bruce: Letting All For One take Ray's Quirk was the worst idea you’ve ever had in your life.

[daddyplasmius]

okay, so, I've collected a bunch of DP fandom stuff that I remember off the top of my head, specifically in chronological order & colour coded here in this post (fics/comics, tumblr posts, important imo) for no reason other than I saw a post asking for Phandom history & it triggered my biggest, most long-running hyperfixation & now I'm curious if anyone else remembers stuff.

this link is going to be the permanent version I will be updating, but I'm posting what I currently have (gonna go through my old laptop later for more) just to let people know. you can also find the link on my blog, but only on desktop. It isn't colour coded there, sorry.

please share more if you got anything else cuz I'm 100% sure I'm missing a lot of stuff & am too interested now. the biggest reason a lot of stuff isn't here is that I simply can't find it. second biggest reason is i forgor. things not included here aren't "unimportant," this is just the first stuff that comes to mind.

putting it under a cut 'cause it got kinda long

Mars by JadeRabbyt (2005)

Checkmate by pearl84 (2006)

Conversations of a Ghost Gabber by Cordria (2006)

The Foley Maneuver by bluemoonalto (2007)

One Thousand Years by Nylah (2008)

Lab Rat by AnneriaWings (2009)

Lost by Cordria (2010?) [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

Phantom of Truth by Haiju (2011)

Ghost Deaths (2012)

Through Coals and Rain by Kakawot (2012)

Shadow of a Doubt by Haiju (2013)

Pink Pants (2013?)

Wes (2014) [original] [1] [2] [3] [4]

this "I'm Inevitable" gif (2014)

Space AU (2014)

Treading Water by The Full Catastrophe (2014)

Danny, you dead IDIOT!! comic (2014)

wash away the darkest days by anthrop (2014)

Reverse Trio (2014)

Inverse Trio (2014-2016) ALT

Halfas are "feral children" (2015)

Burn the Streets, Burn the Cars by anthrop (2015)

It's Not Gay if He's Dead by phantomrose96 (2015)

You Smell Like Death by starfleetrambo (2015)

Ghost Bird AU by @rest-in-peachs (2016?)

Things I Can(not) Do In Amity Park by RedHeadsRock1010 (2016)

KEtTLE by Cordria (2016)

Deeper, Darker by Silvermoonphantom (2016)

Danny Phantom Punches Butch Hartman In The Face by MistressVintage (2017)

Dannypocalypse (2017)

Ghost Train (2017?)

Ghost Physics by jayrockin (2017)

Ghost Infographics (2018)

The Taxonomy of Ghost Cores: An Observational Study (2018) Communicating with Ghosts Professionally: A Study (2018)

Species in Danny Phantom (2018?)

Diddles Piddles by diddly-darn-ghost (2018)

Broken Ectoplasm by ghostanimal (2019)

Ghost of Heroes by Enigmaris & ScarletNightFury (2019-2020)

do not stand at my grave and cry (i am not there, i did not die) by blueh (2020)

Undercover Phantom by artistfingers (2021)

Corruption is a Two Way Street by datawyrms (2021)

Things That Bleed by artistfingers, kkachis, & Perfectly_Inconspicuous (2022)

10,000 works on AO3 (2022)

Ghost Speak:

Danny's handwriting (2015?)

Cordria (2015)

Fiver-Rivers [1] [2] [3] (2019)

Rubber Chicken Sounds (2019)

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

Hard Launching ∘°∘♡∘°∘

Summary: lando and y/n wanted to hard launch their relationship after dating secretly for a while. lando finds the perfect way to do so.

☘ ln x reader ✧˖*°࿐

☘ fluff + humour ✧˖*°࿐

masterlist ☾☼

lando and y/n had been discussing for a while about hard launching their relationship. they had managed to keep it out of the media for an entire season, but the media liked to paint lando as a villain, in more ways than one. not only were they attacking his skills on track, they began collecting pictures of lando with women, no matter how many years ago, and publishing them with articles about him being a womanizer.

the funniest ones were the pictures of lando and her sister out on some bonding time. reading those articles always made y/n laughed, and she would be lying if she said that she didn’t have them bookmarked in her browser for a pick me up when she was having a bad day.

at first, they had thought of doing a simple post with a cheesy caption. enough to let the fans knows that he was off the market again. but, it also felt kind of boring, and that was not lando or y/n’s style.

they discussed it for weeks, looking at different social media websites for inspiration, until it struck lando. scrolling through instagram, he’d found the perfect way to hard launch his relationship with his girlfriend.

when y/n asked him, he said, “you’ll just have to wait like the rest of the world, my love. but, i know you’re going to love it.”

y/n waited, just like he had told her to. she waited for two months, until one day, in the middle of her work, she received the instagram notification of lando posting and tagging her. this was the moment, y/n thought.

opening instagram, she found a reel, instead of a post or a story like she assumed. quickly, wearing her airpods, y/n clicked on the reel, increasing the volume in the background.

the reel opened with someone recording lando as he walked, head down and concentrated. the person recording said, “excuse me, what are you listening to right now?”

lando took out one of his airpods, and said, “my girlfriend yapping,” and then walked away.

the reel immediately cut to different instances of y/n talking and lando patiently listening. they were all sped up videos, and y/n watched her animated hands as she ranted, and lando listening, changing his position every so often. the music in the background was a lively, jaunty sound, and it fit so well with the reel.

there were a series of videos, from their home, from the paddock, from conference rooms where they were waiting for zak, or even from the gym where lando worked out, and y/n basically followed him, still talking his ear off. there were multiple videos of them on facetime as well, or screenshots of their hour - hour and half long conversations.

y/n laughed. it truly was the perfect way for lando to hard launch their relationship. it described them perfectly, if she did say so herself.

scrolling through the comments, she saw a lot of fans crying that he was a taken man now. she saw some saying things like, “this is the realest representation of a relationship.” there were some hate comments too, but they were stupid, so she ignored them.

she commented on the post as well, typing, “wait till i send you a 20 minute voice note on my lunch break” to which lando immediately responded with, “can’t wait, i got my airpods and my phone fully charged”

y/n laughed again, opening her text messaging app, and sending a quick “i love you this was perfect” to her boyfriend.

·̩̩̥͙＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊·̩̩̥͙

hi! i hope you guys enjoyed this! it came to me while i was driving to college! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @anamiad00msday

[aphrvdisiac]

OFF TO THE RACES.

ellie williams, abby anderson x fem! reader.

part one of to lie and love like you do.

SUMMARY | you are in a poly relationship with new york’s elite women, ellie williams and abby anderson, but living in the world of power, money, and lust possesses each one of you as the dynamic amongst you three becomes more volatile and violent.

WARNINGS | adult language. graphic violence. polyamorous relationship. abby calls reader “bunny,” ellie calls reader, “little lamb.” mentions of alcohol consumption and drug usage. possessive and obsessive behaviors. dark content: graphic details of t*rture and m*rder, men being pigs, controlling behavior. adult content: sub!reader x doms!ellabs, doing it in a confessional booth, god kink, fingering, degradation, overstimulation, edging, ball gag, strap-ons, face smacking, mommy and daddy kink, knife play w/ branding, double penetration.

NOTES | so brief explanation: this is my fic, off to the races. it used to be on my original, old account that fell under the user “angvlita” but unfortunately i deactivated that account so the fic no longer exists. anyways, all rights are reserved to me for this, and i do not want it published anywhere else. with that being said, please take into caution all the tags and warnings because this isn’t meant to be taken lightly whatsoever. ellie and abby are mean and cruel in here. thank you, and enjoy.

If Los Angeles was the city of Angels, then New York was home for all Hellbound.

You grew up in such a glistening city, where people’s facades weren’t as hidden, illicit affairs took place, and a fifteen year old was trying cocaine for the first time. It held beauty just like Lucifer, having greater cruelty and an ominous essence lingering beneath its soul.

You wish you didn’t get caught up in a reckless lifestyle, that you didn’t become so corrupted that you were a girlfriend to your two best friends.

Ellie Williams, daughter to architect and businessman Joel Miller, and Abby Anderson, daughter to a famous renowned surgeon Jerry Anderson. The two had great power, control, and wealth – they fucking lived off of it. They were cruel and vicious to everyone.

Ellie was a venomous scorpion, Abby personified as such a nefarious viper. The two together were threatening, and it all surprised you when they wanted you in their circle in the early start of Junior Year, easily befriending you.

You remembered it clear as day.

You were sitting at a table, reading Jane Eyre. It was your free period, and you had not much to do, finished with any assignments.

The silence you enjoyed was interrupted when two figures sat themselves down at the table, gaining your attention as you peered up at the book, and noticed elite scholars Ellie Williams, and Abby Anderson.

They were grinning at you, eyeing you like a predator did with their prey, a cascade of goosebumps running over your skin.

“Can I help you?” You asked, bookmarking your spot before closing the book, and setting it down.

You knew it came off rude and too sharp, but their appearance made you uncomfortable, and weirded out.

“We’ve been keepin’ an eye on you,” Ellie said, and your heart sank, not knowing exactly what that mean. “We aren’t here to ruin your life, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I mean, I don’t know,” you chuckled nervously, fidgeting with your Cartier bracelet. “You have quite the reputation.”

“So you know us?” Abby asked, and you shrugged, unsure of what else to say.

“We want to invite you out,” Ellie added, and your brows knitted together, utterly confused. How could you not be? It was a random invitation, and you didn’t have any prior interactions with them.

You just had Fine Arts Honors with Ellie, and English Literature with Abby — though, you never made any conversations with them, and you didn’t see the need to.

“Why? This is new, no?” You questioned, eyeing them back and forth in the moment the duo looked at one another, words kindling behind their eyes.

“Somethin’ about you is sweet… special,” Abby confessed, and a smile threatened to curl onto your lips. “You interest us.”

“Marrona, at 8PM,” Ellie stated, getting up with the blonde by her side. “Just come by, and if you still don’t like us, you’re free to go.”

“You’re trusting a stranger? Interesting,” you lightly joked, smiling to yourself. “The world must be ending, then.”

They smiled with you, a rare expression anyone could come across.

It was an unforgettable night that you thought of for a week before either of you approached each other again.

Many of your friends told you to not fall for it, that you’d be a laughing stock, and would only be ruined. You didn’t know how ruined you would become, and you simply wanted to know what it would be like to sit in their company.

You were sure it was because of your status — your mother was an heiress, and your father was a CEO of an advanced technology business. You were humble about your life, yet knew you had a higher position in money and glory than them. You were sure they wouldn’t just let anyone in, that they were more intelligent to let a random classmate of theirs be brought into their social circle.

The deeper you fell into their rabbit hole, you had become tainted, and cruel as them. You were their rotten apple, something they possessed and prized so admirably as you were theirs only. Before the relationship was even thought of, you weren’t allowed to talk to anyone else besides them, leaving you to drop all your closest friends, and submit only to the two girls.

Yet, they took care of you like no one else did — expensive gifts, abrupt trips to Europe, fancy dinners, and the sex they gave you.

God, the fucking sex.

It was them at the same time, or one coming to your place to claim you entirely. You didn’t mind it, no, you had become so immune to being theirs, you would please them.

You don’t exactly remember how the polyamory relationship came to be; you were getting closer with Abby, Ellie didn’t like it, and the two had come to the idea of sharing you, right before twelfth grade. You weren’t opposed to it, but hated the twisted repercussions that tied into it.

During all of Senior Year, you weren’t allowed to go out without them by your side, or at least one of your bodyguards. You couldn’t get drunk, only at home, and that’s it; they had this monologue about how dangerous the world is, and how they wouldn’t be able to forgive themselves if something happened to you.

You had no privacy, they always had a guy watching you from a distance if you went out with family, and tracked your location. Your only friends were whoever else was in their group, which wasn’t much whatsoever, so you were practically without anything.

When you all graduated, and you were planning to attend Columbia, you hoped some leniency would be kicked in from their part, but no — the two only got more dominant about everything, to the point they refused to let you share a dorm room with a girl.

“Oh my fucking god, I’m not going to fuck her!” You yelled. “You’re being dramatic; it is better for me to live on campus so I don’t deal with traffic every morning.”

“What if she tries something?” Ellie asked, sitting down on her couch with a glass of bourbon in her hand. “You know we are just trying to look out for you.”

“No, you’re being insane,” you stated, and she scoffed, eyeing Abby. “Both of you have really got to stop this shit. I need to make a career for myself, be my own person without your crazy bullshit jeopardizing it all.”

Abby got up, now towering over you as she grinned. “Such a brat you are,” she mocked, and you shivered, glaring at her. “After all this time, we hoped you would start being appreciative.”

“I… I’m more than grateful for the both of you,” you assured softly, frowning. “But please, I'd rather be in a dorm room than some penthouse where you’re being insufferable.”

“The fuck did you just say?” Ellie asked, hastily standing up, and before you could speak, she grabbed your jaw. “Insufferable, huh?”

You whimpered, the grasp tightening, and worried she might crack a bone. “No… no,” you whispered, and the pair mockingly cooed at your panic.

Ellie shoved you into Abby’s arms. “Deal with her, I’m in a good mood today.”

Abby held onto your wrist, seating herself down, and bent you over her lap. “Gotta keep training you, ‘specially after all this time,” she mumbled, flipping up your skirt. “Starting to think we should just replace your ball with some soap, maybe raise up the punishments.”

“No, no,” you pleaded, peeking up at her. “I didn’t mean to say—”

“Don’t fuckin’ stare at me,” Abby spat, and you whined, looking away as you could feel her hands massage your ass. “You’re lucky it’s me being lenient, not her.”

Abby wasn’t wrong there — Ellie was more harsh with her punishment, would leave you in a puddle of tears, and it would be Abby that had to reel her back into reality. You recalled the moment when Ellie had you bent over the edge of the kitchen table, hitting your ass while she kept her thick rings on, and you were in tears by the end.

You didn’t talk to her for at least two weeks, but she repeatedly apologized, and was no longer able to strike you with no more than seven slaps, and if she did, Abby had to put her in check.

You never knew why you liked being punished like this, like a ragdoll of some sort, or why you let consequences happen to you. You were human, but something about these two keeping you in check was pleasuring, and comforting in a way.

The first hit made you squeal, kicking your feet in reaction. “Fuck!”

“Count, bunny,” she said, the nickname made your stomach turn. “I know you can do it.”

“One…” you shuddered, another strike coming after it. “Fuck— two!”

“Only doing five today, it’s okay,” she assured, kissing the back of your neck, and your ass was met with the third strike.

“Three!”

Another one.

“Four!”

And the last one.

“Five,” you moaned, your ass burning. “I fucking hated that.”

“Me too, bun,” Abby said, picking you up, and let you sit on her lap. “Let me look at my girl.”

She took your face into her hands, fingers brushing past your ears, and grinned. “There’s my bunny, are you okay?” She wondered sincerely, a frown tugged on her lips.

“‘M fine,” you muttered, resting your head on her shoulder as she held you. “Is Ellie mad at me?”

“You know how she is,” she reminded, and you huffed, nodding. “We love you, more than you’ll ever know. We wouldn’t be able to live if someone hurt you, or something horrible happened.”

“I know, didn’t mean to be rude,” you mumbled, and she sighed, kissing the side of your head. “I just feel like both your lives should be more than just me.”

“Oh, baby,” she sighed, bringing your head back up, and gazed at you with immense endearment, you could faint from it. “You are our life. Our religion, our air, everything we want and need.”

You grinned. “You mean that?”

“Of course. Now, let’s go see Ellie, yeah?” Abby suggested, and you agreed, trailing in front of her as you walked to Ellie's bedroom in her penthouse.

“Ellie,” you sang out, pouting. “Are you still mad?” You opened the bedroom door, finding her sitting on her desk chair with an electric guitar in her hands.

Ellie looked up at you the second you were in her presence, and she sighed, sitting the instrument aside of her. “Hey, little one,” she greeted, opening her arms for you. You rushed to her, perching yourself on her lap, and wrapped your arms around her neck.

“Sorry for being rude,” you mumbled into the crook of her neck. “I love you and Abby both.”

“Sweetheart, I know,” she rested her hand on the back of your head, her thumb caressing it. “We know what’s best for you, that’s why we take care of you unlike anyone else.”

Ellie wasn’t wrong there, and that saddened you. Your parents had always be mentally and emotionally distant; they were there physically, but always focused on their own issues. It was either your mother was caught up in her pill addiction, or your father having a new mistress.

There never really was time for you — you raised yourself for as long as you could remember.

Many would say you had no reason to hate your life when you have this trust fund, nepotism lifestyle, but you would trade all of that just for parental affection and care. Yet, that never came, and the only people who tended to your needs were Ellie and Abby.

They came into your life when you needed them the most.

“Our parents want a gathering tonight,” Abby walked into the room, clearly irritated. “First stop is church.”

“Church?” Ellie laughed. “Oh baby, it’s your parents that want that.”

You never understood why your parents went to church. They may have grown up religious, but the things you witnessed them doing led them to earning a one way ticket to Hell.

“We could have our fun,” Abby assured, grinning. “Isn’t being selfish and ungrateful a sin?”

Ellie picked your head up off her shoulder, forcing you to look at her. “Yeah… it is,” she smirked at your protesting whines, and patted your bottom. “Get home, and get changed.”

You walked inside the cathedral by your parents side, searching around for your girls. “Ah, there’s Jerry!” Your father pointed out, taking you and your mother to Abby’s dad. “Jerry!”

Jerry turned around, grinning at him, both hugging one another. You hopped to Abby’s side, smiling up at her. “Hi,” you whispered.

“Hey, baby,” she mumbled, gently pinching your arm. “Ellie is in the confessional booth.”

“What?” You asked. “Why?”

“You sinned,” Abby reminded, and you swallowed thickly as she leaned into your ear. “And you need to repent.”

Your parents were caught in conversation with Jerry, and you sighed heavily, rolling your eyes. You knew they wouldn’t pay much mind if you were gone for a bit.

“Don’t fuckin’ roll your eyes,” she spat, tightly seizing your wrists, and tugged you away with her. To your unfortunate luck, the confessional booth had its own room in the cathedral, and gradually spacious, giving you more than enough privacy.

“Let the fuck go of my wrist!” You shouted, and she halted her footsteps, turning around. “I can follow, ya’know? I’m not dumb.”

Abby ignored you, suddenly tossing you over her shoulder as you screeched, furiously kicking your feet. “Ellie’s going to love hearing this,” she taunted, and you zipped your mouth, giving up all protest.

Abby twisted open up the door to the room, putting you down on your feet, and slammed the door shut.

Ellie was leaning against the wall, joint in her mouth, and was wearing a black suit, a bralette underneath her fine blazer. “There’s our girl,” she beamed, yet her bright expression toned down when she took notice of Abby's unsatisfied attitude. “What did she do?”

“Rolled her eyes, being a brat,” Abby said, and you looked down in shame, not knowing why you kept digging a hole for yourself. “Don’t know why she keeps doing this. Maybe we’ve been too nice.”

Ellie hummed, burning her joint out on the windowsill before leading herself into the stall, her legs spreading as she sat down. “We’ll take our turns. Kneel before God.”

You only stood still, gazing up at her.

Abby’s hand curled around the back of your neck, getting a whine out of you. “The fuck is your problem today? Want to be ignored instead?” She wondered, and you shook your head. “It sure seems like that, bunny.”

“Bring her over here,” Ellie beckoned, and Abby guided you over to the auburn-haired girl, forcing you down to your knees. “Wearin’ such a pretty dress today. All for us, hm?”

You looked at her, hands resting on your thighs as you nodded. “Course I did. Wanted to be pretty for you both.”

“Hmm. Roll up your dress,” Ellie said, and you froze, not moving. She inched closer to your face, tilting her head. “Something wrong, honey?”

“No, ‘course not,” you muttered, fingers fiddling with the ending hem of your babydoll dress.

“Then listen,” Abby added in, and your breath shuddered as you bunched the skirt to your waist, exposing your bare cunt. “Won’t you look at that? She thought she was gonna get something.”

“Did you think that?” Ellie asked, and you hesitantly nodded, her cruel laugh ringing in your ears. “After how you’ve been acting all day? Silly girl.”

“Where’s your rosary?” Abby wondered, and you opened up your purse, scrunching it up in your palm. “Not even a pure girl anymore, just a depraved whore for us.”

Ellie grabbed the jewelry piece, wrapping it in between her fingers as the end dangled in your face. “Abby, next to me,” she ordered, and Abby took off her leather jacket, letting it drop to the floor, stepping in the stall.

You stayed kneeled, trying to put water to the fire you sparked.

The tip of Ellie’s combat boot hit under your chin, raising your eyes to hers. “Get over to her,” she cocked her head to the side, and you rushed up and over to the blonde haired woman, who grinned at you.

Abby pushed you down onto her lap, your back pressing up against her chest as Ellie pushed open the sliding barrier, mindlessly playing with your rosary. “Why are you here today?” She began, yet Abby shoved your legs open, one hand on your throat, and the other snaked down in between your thighs.

“F—Forgive me,” you stuttered, shivering to Abby's fingers glazing over your needy cunt, “for I have sinned.”

“Go on,” Ellie agreed, and Abby slowly pushed one finger into you. “What troubles you?”

Your head fell back onto Abby’s shoulder, squeezing harder on your throat as a warning. “Fuck… I—I’ve been selfish, sir,” you continued, whining to her teasing pace. “Cruel and ruthless to those who love me.”

“And why is that?” Ellie wondered, paying no mind to you or your noises. “Do they deserve it, little lamb?”

Abby put in a second finger, the pace now running a bit higher, but made sure to not give you entire satisfaction. “Do they deserve it, bunny?” She whispered in your ear, her thumb pressing on your bud. “Tell her now.”

“No, God no,” you whimpered, placing a hand over Abby’s wrist. “I’m just… just a brat— holy fuck, fuck me.”

“Using vulgar language in front of your God, little lamb?” Ellie teased, knowing what she was getting at.

She was your God — both of them were. They were your religion, devoting every piece of you to them, would do anything to have their forgiveness and love for eternity.

“I’m sorry, God,” you moaned, Abby’s fingers pounding into you as you were beginning to fall apart at the seams, grabbing onto her wrist. “Fuck— Forgive me, God. I need your forgiveness.”

“You have to earn it,” Ellie stated, and Abby breathily chuckled, her breath fanning against your skin.

“Want to be good for your Gods?” Abby asked, and you nodded, your face falling into the crook of her neck. “Gonna do anything just for us to fuck you, huh? ‘Course you are, baby. You’re filthy— look what we’ve done to you.”

A warm sensation ran in your stomach, down to your thighs as your body jolted on her lap. “Please, God,” you pleaded, tears at your waterline. “I want you, God. I’ll never sin again.”

Ellie hummed, looking at Abby. “What do you think?” She asked. “Does the whore deserve to be forgiven?”

“Might have to work a little harder,” Abby said, and you were lost in your head, your climax burning in your abdomen. “She’s going to break another commandment.”

“No, no,” you breathed, shaking your head. “I won’t do it unless God tells me to.”

“Is that right?” Abby cooed, and her free hand combed through your hair, grabbing it. Her fingers slipped out of you, tossing you down onto your knees again with a harsh thud, a soft weep eliciting from you.

Ellie stepped out of her side of the booth, moving to yours, and you heard the rustling of her and Abby’s pants, keeping your head down. A nude Ellie brushed past you, sitting down onto Abby’s lap, both of their seeping cunts shown to your eyes.

“Please us, little lamb,” Ellie said, and you slightly moved yourself closer, your mouth latching on Abby’s cunt, hearing a soft moan leave her. You slid two fingers into Ellie’s, who cursed under her breath, and the pair looked down at you as you stared right back at them, desperation shining in your eyes.

“Doing s’good, baby,” Abby gently praised, her breath jagged, and looped around Ellie’s waist to keep her in place. “Keep fuckin’ going like that.”

Your mouth switched between the two, lapping up their juices as they made out with one another, sweetly moaning into each other’s mouth. All you could do was admire them, kneeling obediently while you drowned your mouth in their juices, needing more than just this.

Ellie put her hand on top of your head, the end of your rosary dangling in between your eyes, and she rutted her cunt against your mouth, keeping it latched. You stuffed Abby with three fingers, enough to fulfill her, roughly thrusting them into her.

The rosary continued to stay in your vision, almost like a mocking coming from Ellie and God; that once a pure angel fell into the hands of the corrupted, and became just what and who they are.

But you loved it, you loved that they curated you into this way. All you wanted to do was please them, see how sensitive they could turn out to be.

You spent the remainder of mass baptizing yourself in between their thighs, drunk on the taste of their sweet pussies.

You had spent the next day at home, making sure you had things planned out for when you moved out for Columbia. Abby and Ellie had convinced you to live in a penthouse that was about a block away from the school, and you had agreed on the fact that it was better to be with people you knew than a stranger as they knew it made you easily uncomfortable.

Your parents had left randomly for vacation, staying at their place in Milan, leaving you alone with your cat. You didn’t mind the loneliness, it was something you well adjusted to as you got older, and you only ached for attention when it came to your girls, but they had their responsibilities that you couldn’t interfere with.

You had finished packing up your box of books, setting it in the corner of your bedroom. Your attention turned to the sound of your phone going off, the soft ringtone coming through. You grabbed your phone, grinning at the contact name of “Jesse.”

“Well if it isn’t my favorite troublemaker,” you teased. “What’s up?”

Jesse James and his girlfriend, Dina Woodward, were the only people Ellie and Abby trusted you with; which said plenty because they would kill anyone who they didn’t know, and tried to talk to you. He was good, despite the fact he came from a shit father, constantly got in trouble with the law, and blew money on anything. Dina was the only one who could put him in check, and you had grown close to her over the time of knowing him.

“I fuckin’ bought a club,” Jesse started off, and you scoffed in disbelief. “Turned that shit into a burlesque. She’s a beau, you have to come out and check it out.”

“Well, I can’t right now,” you denied, and he groaned. “I’m trying to make sure I have everything together before I leave for college.”

“Cry me a river, come on!” He begged, and you breathily laughed. “You are always so attached to Ellie and Abs, make time for me.”

“Is your girlfriend with you, at least?” You wondered, and he hummed in response. You looked at the time on your clock, reading “9:03PM”, and you sighed. “I’ll be there in an hour. Don’t go anywhere.”

True to your word, you arrived at Jesse’s enriching club. You got out of the black cab, and stared at the sign that gleamed in pink neon “Carissima.”

You hummed softly to yourself, approaching the security guard at the front. “Friend of Jesse James,” you said, and he nodded, easily recognizing you. He opened up the door for you, thanking him, and moved inside, hearing the familiar melody of “I Put A Spell On You” by Nina Simone tune through the venue.

It didn’t take much to find Jesse, his arm wrapped around Dina’s shoulder as the two sat on a lounge chair in front of performers, their soft laughter knitting between the music. You walked up to the side of the furniture, their eyes averting to you.

“You made it!” Dina exclaimed, jumping up, and pulling you into a hug. “I’ve missed you. Feels like forever.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you said, separating the hug, and gave a hast squeeze to Jesse before sitting on the side of Dina. “So, what made you buy this?”

“Good investment,” Jesse said, and you awed, chuckling. “My dad doesn’t agree, but it’s beautiful. These performers… mind blowing, a fascination to everyone in this room.”

“You tell Ellie and Abby?” You wondered as Dina handed you a cigarette, lighting it up for you. “They would love this, think you are a genius.”

“I thought you would bring them. Ya’know, since you’re attached to them,” he teased, and Dina smacked his arm, glaring at him. “Bad joke, fuck! But where are they?”

“Don’t know, I haven’t talked to them all day,” you answered, puffing out a blow. “But they got their shit to worry about, don’t like being in the way.”

“You’ve been their world since you met them,” Dina said, taking the stick from you. “However, it is scary how overprotective they are.”

“What do you mean?” You asked.

Jesse laughed. “Those two have always been frightening—”

“Yeah, but their care for her is… different,” she stated, and gazed back at you. “Known them since we were kids, and I can say they would kill for you.”

“So dramatic,” you joked. “They’re the closest people I have in life. They take care of me, know what’s good for me and I don’t know— I’ve never really had that.”

“Yeah, I guess,” she mumbled, handing you back the cigarette. “I just know they’re fucking you good.”

“Okay, I’m gonna go get a drink!” You beamed, inhaling the tobacco, and got up. “You need anything?”

They shook their heads, and you hurried to the bar, continuing to burn out the cancerous stick in a spare ashtray. You smiled at the bartender as she headed over to you.

“What can I get you, love?” She asked.

“Just a cosmo, please,” you said, and she hummed, turning to the drinks. You waited patiently, fingers tapping on the gradient countertop in thought.

A shoulder softly brushed past you, but you ignored the person, until they cleared their throat. “All alone here?”

You shivered to the voice of a man.

“With some friends,” you dryly answered, eyes focused on the bartender who had her back turned from you.

“That’s a shame. Woulda invite you to hang with me,” he said, his voice thick and heavy. “You always still can.”

“No thank you,” you denied, shaking your head, and prayed for your drink to come quicker, only for the bartender to head into the stock room for a moment.

Oh, you felt sick.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Dina and Jesse lost in their conversation, completely oblivious to you.

Your phone was in your purse, and you were scared to even fiddle with it.

“I don’t bite, honey,” he assured, and your heart leaped into your throat as his hand touched your bicep. “Come on. A pretty thing like you should be having fun.”

“Please let go of me,” you said, yet harsh enough to come off stern. “I don’t like your hand on me, so get the fuck off.”

“Now don’t be a bitch,” he spat.

You finally looked at him, your body wanting to collapse on you. He was taller than you, about six foot three or so. Broad and muscular, completely fit. His eyes were dark, had a goatee on his face.

You thought about throwing up all over him just to get this over with.

You hoped people sitting around would notice, yet no one did, caught up in their own worlds. You yanked your arm back, and scoffed. “You don’t got the right to touch me, you fuck.”

“I’ll fuckin’ kill you,” he threatened. “You come here in that little black dress, and expect nobody to fuck you?”

The bartender came back, and was the only one to notice this unsettling tension. “Hey, honey!” She called out, putting your order on the countertop. “Had to head into the back to grab more cranberry juice, I’m sorry.”

She kept her eyes locked on the man, a pair of scissors in her hand. “Can you hold onto my order for a second? I need to use the ladies room,” you said, and she nodded, making sure to keep the man secure in her radius.

You hurried into the bathroom, your shaky hands taking out your phone. Teardrops collected on the screen as you hit Abby’s contact, the first name on your recent call list.

It took only two rings until she answered. “Bunny?”

“Abby… abby,” you breathily whispered, sniffling. “Is Ellie with you?”

“Yeah, baby. We just got done with some things,” she said, and you sighed in relief. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m… I’m at this club, Jesse’s club,” you began, sucking in a sharp breath. “And went to the bar to get a drink… this man came up to me, wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“What?” Abby’s tone sharpened. “Did he hurt you? Where the fuck is Jesse? Or Dina?”

“He just grabbed my arm. Jesse and Dina were just busy with each other, I was too far away for them to notice anything,” you stated clearly, wiping away your hot tears. “I don’t know if he’s still in here, but the bartender is keeping a close eye on him, and I’m hiding in the bathroom.”

“Stay in the bathroom, we’re coming right now,” she assured, and you hung up the call, sitting yourself on the porcelain seat, trying to compile all your thoughts and emotions.

As Abby brought the phone down to her lap, Ellie glanced at her. “What happened?”

“Someone fuckin’ weirdo touched her,” Abby exsperated, and static rang in Ellie’s ears, scoffing in disbelief. “Jesse opened up his own club, she was there, and went alone to get a drink.”

Ellie texted Jesse for the address, and Abby searched around the backseat compartment. “I don’t know if the gun is still in here,” Ellie said, and the blonde groaned in frustration. “We can’t go in there with one.”

“The one time you don’t bring your weapon,” Abby sighed.

“Got the address,” Ellie mumbled, opening up her phone. “Charles! Hit 7th avenue.”

“The fuck are we gonna do with this dude?” Abby asked, and Ellie grinned. “Talk to me, baby.”

“We fuckin’ kill him,” Ellie stated.

You passed time by playing games on your phone, the stress of it being enough to forget the short horror experience you just encountered. The shout of your name in the bathroom caught your attention, killing your high score in the process.

“Baby, where are you?” Ellie called out, and you rushed out of the stall, getting her attention. “Oh, there’s my girl.”

She hastily brought you into her arms, letting you cry into her shoulder as she held you, cupping the back of your head. “My brave girl, hm? So proud of you,” she praised, kissing your temple. “Abby and I are gonna take care of everything.”

You nodded, bringing your head back, and she smiled softly at you. “Do you have any party favors?” You wondered, and she sighed, shaking her head. “Please, just wanna wash off tonight.”

“Honey, you are not taking coke,” she said, and you frowned. “I know you are upset, but your body isn’t used to it, and you wouldn’t like it.”

“Yes I do! Remember when I did it off your ass on our ski trip in Aspen?” You recalled, and she kept denying you. “Please! Just this once. I’ll have Dina make sure I don’t do more than three lines.”

“Dina couldn’t even keep an eye on you right now!” She shouted, and you flinched, body tensing. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I just— You need to be careful.”

“Just three lines,” you repeated.

Ellie reached into her trouser’s pockets, fiddling with the bag, and handed it to you. “Go have fun, baby,” she said, and you kissed her cheek, thanking her before sprinting back out to Jesse and Dina.

The couple bounced up from their seats at your appearance, clear worry plastered on their faces. “Fuck, we’re so sorry,” Dina said, gently grabbing your wrists. “We were so caught up—“

“It’s fine,” you smiled, sitting down on the lounge seat, and popped open the bag of cocaine.

“Fuck, you’re doing lines? Haven’t seen you do that shit since the Debutante Ball,” she said, and you poured some of the white powder onto the table in front of you.

“Ellie and Abby don’t know about that,” you told her, and her eyes widened, looking at her boyfriend who only shrugged at her. “They would kill me if they knew the amount of drugs I’ve done behind their back.”

“You’ve only done cocaine, no?” Jesse questioned, and you only glanced at him over your shoulder, giggling. You took a random card out of your wallet, dividing the powder into neat lines, a dumb smile on your face.

“Jesse, can you go get my cosmo, please?” You asked, sweetness laced in your tone. “I deserve some of that with this shit.” He sighed, nodding, and getting up from his spot.

There were seven lines made, and you wiped off the collected powder from the edge of the card, sniffing it up your left nostril. You exhaled sharply, snickering, and traded the card in for a dollar bill. “You want some of this?” You offered, turning around to look at Dina, and she denied the offer, eyes focused on you.

You hummed, tightly rolling up the bill. “More for me, then.” You brought the paper up to your nose, aligning it with the first line, and took a heavy inhale, a strong burn hitting your nose. You sniffled, bringing your head up and leaned it back, shakily laughing.

“Easy there, babe,” Dina put a hand on your back, rubbing it. Jesse came back on time with your drink, handing it to you, and noticed the dollar bill next to the second line.

“Already started?” He teased, and you took a sip of the cocktail, eyeing to the drug. “I’m all good, treat yourself with that stuff.”

With you doing lines and being utterly distracted inside of the club, Abby and Ellie were on the top floor of the building, inside a storage room with a beaten man on the ground.

Abby took another kick to his gut, Ellie sitting in a chair with a cigarette in her mouth. “You like touchin’ females you don’t know!” Abby yelled, and he sobbed, restrained by cable ties, his right eyes kicked in. “Fuckin’ touching her like that, you aren’t getting away with this shit.”

Ellie took the gun out from the back of her trousers, lucky enough to find the weapon in the glove compartment by the driver. She flashed the object to the man’s eyes, a vile grin playing on her lips as she stared at him.

She got up, and stalked towards his limp body, standing by Abby’s side. “What’s your name, man?” Ellie asked, with her partner taking a hast note to her facade. “Got any kids or anything?”

“My name is Brandon,” he breathed, and Ellie nodded, squatting down to match eye level with him, letting the gun dangle in her hands. “Shit, dude, listen— I—I’m sorry. I didn’t think she was taken.”

“What makes you say that?” Abby questioned.

“A girl like that… wants attention,” he said, and the girls looked at one another before glancing back over to Brandon. “Can even tell she’s got lingerie under that shit. She’s a fuckin’ tease, a whore.”

Ellie hummed, reloading the glock in her hand, and chuckled. “I think I’m done with my cigarette now,” she mumbled, jokingly frowning as she played with the stick in between her fingers. “Too bad I don’t have an ashtray on me.”

Abby took out a switchblade, exchanging it for the gun. “Tell me when you need me to do it,” she said, and the auburn haired girl seized the man’s jaw, squeezing open his mouth as a wave of protests elicited from his throat.

Ellie pushed the bud to his tongue, and cruelly laughed at the garging scream that came out of him. “Keep fuckin’ talking shit!” She shouted, flicking open her switchblade, and held it to his throat. “Swallow that cigarette, wanna see if you still want to run your mouth!”

“You don’t get to talk about her like that,” Abby chimed in, taking off her leather jacket. “You’re lucky we don’t kill you right now.”

Ellie put her hand over the man’s mouth, refusing to let him spit out her cigarette, only giving him the option to swallow it for good. She smiled, pleased with the simple act, and took her hand back. “Got anymore shit to say?” She questioned, tilting her head to the side.

Brandon sniffled, jagged sobs intertwined with his heavy breathing. “You’re both fucking insane,” he began, trying to gather oxygen into him. “She’s going to leave you. You’re going to drive her away with this shit.”

“We’d like to see her try,” Abby said, and Ellie stood up, putting herself aside to let her do as she pleased. She sat back down, opening up her phone to text Jesse.

E: How is she?

J: Two Cosmos in. Had seven lines. Get down here soon.

E: Don’t let her strip her clothes off. We don’t need a sequel to Barcelona.

J: Me and Dina can’t handle her, only you can. She won’t shut the fuck up about you.

E: Don’t let us down again. P.S., may need a mop in here soon.

She tucked her phone away, and admired Abby damaging the man. She was ruthless, yet composing herself enough not to kill him — just yet. His face had molded into a pulp, unrecognizable to anyone as his blood painted on Abby’s hands, his weak pleas being ignored by the pair.

Abby and Ellie got high off of this, hurting or killing anyone who made you uncomfortable. They had been getting away with it for so long, and you had been gullible to it, never blinking an eye to their unknown actions.

They would do this over and over again, even if something was your fault within it, they dealt with you in their own way — but no one was ever to lay a hand on you, and you knew that too.

Abby snagged his wallet out of his pocket, opening it up. “Brandon James,” she announced, pulling out his cash, and putting it in her pockets. “Gonna use this to buy her something pretty and nice.”

“Where does he live?” Ellie asked.

“Won’t you look at that!” Abby said, pressing her boot to his face. “He’s a rich brat. Lives in that building next to yours, Els.”

Ellie chuckled. “Money probably got him out of his shit. Isn’t that right, Brandon James?”

“Please,” is all he could manage to say, dizzy and lightheaded.

Ellie returned over to him, and stood over him before lowering herself. “This may hurt,” she said, signaling for Abby’s help, who obliged by opening the man’s mouth. Ellie grinned, tugging at the tip of his tongue, and began to sever it with her switchblade.

He screamed, thrashing around, but was overpowered by the two women, entirely useless to their strength. “This isn’t even the worst part,” Ellie muttered, grunting as she went on to cut off his tongue. “You made her cry, ya’know? Poor baby was so scared, and didn't know what to do.”

His tongue ripped out, being put to the side of his head. She got up, staring at the blood of her hand, and could only curl her hand into a tight fist.

He fuckin’ frightened her, she thought to herself. He deserves to die.

He was already facing death in a horrid, slow manner, and the last thing he would see was these two, towering over him; utterly indulged by his death, and letting it fuel their ego.

“Kill him. Jesse wants us back,” Ellie ordered, and Abby aimed the gun at his face, her finger carelessly pressing down on the trigger. His face blew, and they both hummed, taking in the view. “Good job. Already called the crew to come get him.”

Stuck yet hast of cleaning themselves up, alcohol and drugs overrode your brain, consuming you. You were sitting on the edge of the couch, staring at the dancers on the stage who moved with elegance, and passion. Each one of them were beautiful, confident in their own way that made your heart beat.

“Wish I was as good as them,” you said, sipping on Jesse’s cup of scotch. “I can fuckin’ dance, but not like that.”

“They’re giving a simple show,” Dina noted, and you blew a raspberry, glaring at her.

“They’re doing much more than that,” you retorted, and inhaled one last bump, coughing. “I… I want to go up there.”

“You’re not,” Jesse denied, and you pouted. “Ellie and Abby would murder you, and then me. We don’t want Barcelona to happen.”

“Oh my gosh! That trip was so fun!” You recalled, warmly smiling at the memory. “Wait, what happened?”

“You drank too much, got lost in the crowd dancing with too many people,” Dina said, and you zoned out, attempting to have any recollection. “Then, you bought everyone shots, danced on top of the bar, and flashed your ass to them.”

“Okay, that’s not bad,” you giggled, shrugging. “I’m going up there!”

“Do you have a death wish?” Dina wondered, and grabbed your wrist, preventing you from standing up. “Your girlfriends are going to kill you if you do some sort of strip tease up there.”

“They’ll get over it,” you said, freeing your wrist from her hold. “They’re not here, anyways, and they won’t do shit about it.”

Jesse and Dina sighed, giving up all attempts and let you run off onto the stage. The burlesque dancers beamed at your presence, letting you stand in the middle as you were too mind numbed to understand what you were doing, just knowing you wanted to have fun.

The song and crowd were an echo, intoxication burning into your body, controlling each thing you did. You sheepishly grinned, your hand reaching to the side of your dress, and pulled down the zipper.

“No, no!” Dina shouted, and Jesse mumbled multiple curse words, sipping down the last of his drink. “Oh, we are so dead.”

Abby and Ellie appeared right next to them, at the exact time you were shimming off your dress, and were exposed in your garter belt, stockings, and undergarments. “What the fuck did we say!” Abby shouted, and the couple sighed, watching in horror with the two girls while you were oblivious to them.

People in the club cheered for you, a few getting their wallets out. You laughed, your vision a blur as you showed off your body, letting your hands run all over your body.

Your girlfriends watched attentively, millions of thoughts piling on top of each other, thinking of how to get off the stage, and back home. They weren’t going to punish you while you were clearly out of your mind, but that gave them enough time to think of how to handle you.

They just fucking murdered someone for you, and your flashing your body to strangers. You were more than ungrateful at this moment.

The dancers on stage encouraged you to do what you wanted, cheering you though they knew you were not intact with reality. “Should I take off my bra?” You questioned, and the people in front yelled in agreement, earning a small laugh out of you. “Yeah? Flash my tits for New York?”

“What the fuck is she saying?” Jesse asked. “Go get your girl before she turns this into a riot house.”

Abby and Ellie both rushed to you, having to fight through a crowd just to reach the steps to the stage. Your hands fidgeted with the hooks of your bra, and before you could strip it off, they got to you on time. “Oh, it’s my girls!” You slurred, hiccuping as you laughed, and blushed in shame. “How long have you been here?”

Ellie took off her blazer, tossing it over you as Abby picked up your dress from the ground. The crowd booed and groaned at your escort as you only waved at them, blowing a kiss. “Bye Dina and Jess! Love you both so much!” You yelled, and squealed from being abruptly thrown over Abby’s shoulder. “Ow, my stomach!”

The limo was parked outside, and the chauffeur opened up the door, Abby throwing you onto the seat but made sure you didn’t bump your head. Ellie climbed in right behind her, the door shutting.

“Hiii,” you slurred, continuing to giggle. “You like my outfit?”

“Who gave you coke?” Abby asked.

“Els!” You said.

“Ellie, we talked about this!” Abby protested, and the auburn shrugged. “She can’t do that shit unattended.”

“I’ve done it so many times without you both,” you confessed, and their eyes snapped at you. “You made me this way — fucking corrupted, and shit. I am your blessing and nightmare.”

“You’re drunk,” Ellie sighed. “You need to rest when we get home.”

“Why, daddy?” You asked, and Ellie reddened at the nickname. “I know you both want to hurt me. I was bad tonight, disrespecting you both. How silly of me.”

“Fuckin’ watch it, bunny,” Abby spat, and you laughed. “I mean it.”

“Whatever. You’re idiots,” you mumbled, and Ellie had thinner patience than Abby did — meaning one more insult would cause her to take you in the car. She tossed your dress at you, eyes boring into you. “You could just hand it next time.”

“You are one more backtalk from getting it,” Ellie warned, and your smile slowly faded. “Anything else you need to confess before we deal with you in the dawn?”

“Oh, I can’t have a life of my own!” You realized, carelessly putting back on your outfit.. “Can’t take drugs without your eyes following me. Can’t even hang out with someone without a bodyguard being there! So fucking annoying!”

“If it’s so annoying, why stay?” Abby asked.

You went silent, looking away from the both of them, and finished throwing on your dress, slouching in your seat. “Only ones who take care of me,” you murmured, so soft and quiet, pouting too. “Make me feel special.”

“Yeah, and we’re the only ones who will put up with you this way,” Ellie added, and you nodded, tears welting in your eyes. “Who else is gonna do that? Tell us.”

You shook your head. “No one… no one,” you mumbled, chewing on your lower lip. “Can… Can I sit on your lap? Please?”

Ellie heavily sighed before giving in, beckoning you. You practically hopped into her lap as you wrapped your arms around her neck, nuzzling your face into her chest.

You fell asleep on the ride back to the shared penthouse.

Sunlight crept into your eyes, taking you out of your gentle slumber. You groaned, stuffing your face into the pillow, and felt warmth on both sides of you. Your eyes slowly parted, finding Ellie’s tattooed arm dangling over your chest, Abby’s looped around your waist.

You were trapped in between them, no way out. Your head pounded, your nose stuffy, and dying in sickness. You stayed still, trying to resurface last night's events, yet only blur spots flickered in your head. You whimpered, loud to drag Abby out of her slumber, her eyes adjusting to the sight of you.

“Hey, bunny,” she whispered. “You okay?”

“Did I drink last night?” You asked, and she weakly chuckled, nodding.

“And you did cocaine,” she muttered, and she brought her hand up, resting it on the side of your face. “You are in trouble.”

You panicked. “Whatever I did—”

“Baby, you are okay,” she assured, thumb caressing your cheek. “But you said some rude things. All we plan to do is spanking, that’s about it.”

“I’m sorry,” you frowned, and she kissed the side of your head. “Hope that’s the only stupid thing I did.”

“And you stripped and performed at a burlesque club,” she shared, and your eyes widened, whining in embarrassment. “Ellie nearly ripped your head off in the car.”

You looked over at Ellie, and grinned. “I’ll make it up to you both,” you promised, pressing a kiss to her lips, and she smiled, nodding. “I’m going to clean myself up, I feel a bit nauseous.”

“We had your things moved and unpacked yesterday,” Abby said, and you sat up, stretching out your arms.

“You broke into my house late at night, and got everything settled that quick?” You laughed. “I’m still a month away from attending school, and you’re already locking me down.”

“Better to get it done now,” she acknowledged, and you got up from the bed, padding over to the bedroom’s bathroom, closing the door behind you.

It took you only about thirty minutes to clean up, unimpressed by how worn out you looked. Your lipstick smeared, eyeliner and mascara cluttered around your eyes, your breath reeking of alcohol.

The shower was enough to relax your body, yet still felt sick, considering you needed a meal. You stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around your body, and stepped in front of the sink.

You found an unopened toothbrush waiting for you, and you grinned, opening it up. You turned on the faucet, and laid down a portion of toothpaste on your toothbrush, running it under the water shortly after.

You brought the object into your mouth, and used your free arm to pick up your pajamas. You walked over to the walk in closet, and looked around for the hamper, only to find it shoved into the corner.

Peeking over the basket, you noticed a white shirt stained with some red on it. It grabbed your attention, looking too crimson to be considered red wine, or anything else.

You just shrugged it off, putting your clothes over it, and went back to brushing your teeth. “Hey Abs,” you called from the bathroom. “What kind of shit did you get into last night?”

“What do you mean?” She shouted back, the loud conversation awakening Ellie.

“One of your shirts is stained,” you said, and Abby inhaled sharply, Ellie shooting up to look at her girlfriend. “Did I fall and eat shit, and get blood over one of you?”

“Honey, you did,” Ellie lied, voice groggy and hoarse. “I had to carry you inside, you had blood coming out your nose.”

“But I have no bruises or anything?” You realized, spitting out the paste, and cleaned up your toothbrush and mouth. You changed into shorts and tee before walking back into the bedroom. “Did you guys get into a fight last night?”

They went silent, and you got into the middle of them on the bed, going back and forth looking at them.

“You had an incident last night,” Ellie said, and your brows furrowed. “A man was being a fuckin’ dick, you called Abby, and we handled it.”

“Oh what, you fucking killed him?” You joked, and they laughed dryly with you, but enough to make it believable. “If you beat him, you just have to say that.”

“We handled it,” Ellie repeated, and moved herself closer to you, putting her hand on your cheek. “Now we need to handle you.”

You rolled your eyes, bitterly scoffing.

“Fuckin’ roll them again,” she dared, and Abby laid back against the headboard, letting everything unravel. “Always going to be a brat? Even when we’re so good to you?”

Your face softened into a doe expression, tilting your head to the side. “Doesn’t that make you want to fuck me?”

“We won’t even touch you if that’s what you're trying to accomplish here,” she taunted, and her hand snaked up to the side of your head, tightly gripping your hair. “When are you going to learn, little lamb? Is what we do for you not enough?”

“It is,” you whimpered.

“Yeah? Then why do you keep acting like it isn’t?” She asked, and eyed over to Abby. “What should we do with her?”

“Break her,” Abby said, getting up from her spot. Ellie grinned, turning her head back towards you, and your cheek was met with a harsh slap. You gasped, and her hand slid down to the back of your neck, pushing your body onto the bed.

“Fuckin’ strip,” Ellie spat, and you whimpered, but obliged. You fiddled with the ending hem of your shirt, taking it off, and your fingers hooked around the waistband of your panties and pajama shorts. “Need you on all fours.”

You huffed under your breath, glad that she couldn’t see you roll your eyes again. Your clothes piled down onto the ground, letting your knees sink into the mattress, your chest laying flat as your ass was lifted to her eyes for display.

“Baby, you’re fucking soaking,” Ellie cooed with Abby returning on time, able to hear the clicking of objects. “Let’s hold off on gagging her until she wants to say some shit.”

Abby moved to your eye level, grinning. “You want to keep being a desperate whore?”

“I’ll get my satisfaction either way,” you assured, and she inhaled sharply, eyes snapping into Ellie’s. The auburn handed her an item, noticing the pink ball. “Wait, wait!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Abby seethed, maneuvering your face and brought it up, fastening up the ball gag. “You’ve really fuckin’ done it this time, bunny. And Ellie is going to handle you, not me.”

You swallowed thickly, your doe eyes shining with pleas but the blonde dismissed you, tossing your face back onto the bed.

Both girls had stripped themselves bare, Ellie positioned behind you as Abby sat in front of you, her cunt for you to gawk at, but forbidden to please.

In a sharp breath, you felt thick silicone push into you, causing your cunt to stretch. You cried, yet it was mumbled, and Abby laughed at you. “Gonna deny you everything, honey,” Ellie muttered, her hands grasping onto your cheeks for support as she carelessly thrusted into you, breaking into you. “Need to make you cry, need to know you’re fucking place with us.”

“We could easily get rid of you,” Abby continued on, and your brows knitted together, shaking your head. “Could’ve fucking disposed you months ago, but no. Here we are, still putting up with your bratty ass.”

You cursed and moaned breathlessly, the pain turning into a bliss as Ellie’s strap pounded into you. “Wouldn’t want that, huh?” She asked, and you cried in response. “Course not, honey. No one fuckin’ loves you like we do.”

You stared at Abby with teary eyes, your hand aching to touch her, only for the blonde to slap it away. “No, take what you are getting right now,” she warned, and you nodded, your hips rolling and swaying with the rhythm of Ellie’s thrusts. “Won’t ya look at that? Little bunny just can’t get enough.”

Your hands grasped onto the messy bed sheets, nails digging into them. You stuffed your face into the material, lewd noises eliciting from you through the ball gag, almost feeling as if your body was jolted with electricity the moment Ellie’s strap found your orgasmic area.

“She’s enjoying this too much,” Abby pointed out, and Ellie hummed, all movement being halted. You groaned in protest, and she switched around your body, laying you flat on your back. She straddled herself on top of you, intimidating you with how she towered over you.

She popped the gag out of your mouth, your lungs engulfing fresh air. “Oh, little lamb,” she softly whispered, and smacked your face again, seizing it afterwards. “You got me upset, you know that? Treating me like shit.”

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered, the strike burning your cheek before she placed another one. “Fuck!”

“You’re sorry?” She repeated, almost as if she didn’t trust you. “For which part, honey?”

“Just… just wanted to get a rise,” you admitted, breathing heavily. “Couldn’t ask for it.”

“Look where that landed you,” she said, and hit you once more, your head spinning. “You going to apologize to Abby, hm?” She climbed off of you, her hands guiding you around to face the blonde. “Say sorry, baby.”

You were a crying mess, and weren’t even at the worst part yet. Though you were scared, you were aroused; maybe you were as depraved as they were. You enjoyed the sadistic acts they brought onto you, wanting to be all theirs to use, and play with.

You were their girl at the end of the day, nothing could change that.

“I’m sorry, mama,” you mumbled, and Abby hummed, careless to your apology. “Please, mama. Didn’t mean it, I’ll be better.”

“You need to start acting right,” she said, and you nodded, mumbling promises through your sobs. “You aren’t able to leave us, you know that, right?”

“I won’t,” you reassured, sniffling. You knew that’s what many people wanted, that they knew you couldn't be without these two girls, simply as if they were your life support.

Everyone knew it.

“Where’s your blade?” Abby asked, and Ellie gestured to the night stand. She opened up the drawer, taking out her prized switchblade, something she always carried with her, but you didn’t know why. “Got to mark our girl.”

Ellie grabbed her knife, flicking it open, and she settled herself in between your thighs. She was grinning to herself, yet so was Abby, the two only knowing what they had done the previous night with the weapon, and you were clueless to it all.

“Need you to be a big girl for me,” Ellie stated, and you sucked in a sharp breath, the tip of the switchblade pointing into your right inner thigh, beginning to carve into your skin. “Right there, baby. Doing s’good for us, focus on mama.”

Abby scooted closer to you, putting your head on her lap. “Don’t cry, bunny. It’s gonna be over soon.”

Ellie branded her initial firstly into your right thigh before moving onto your left inner thigh, starting to cut Abby’s into it. You were trying your best to compose your body, squirming and softly sobbing to your skin being pierced.

“Mama, it hurts,” you pouted, and she caressed your cheek, looking down at you. “I know I’m your girl.”

“Just so you remember,” Abby reminded, groping your breasts. “Sometimes you forget, baby. We can’t keep repeating ourselves.”

You only nodded, melting into her gentle touch. Ellie threw her knife on top of the pile of clothes, smirking at initials. “Ah, now we can give you what you want,” she said, and you sighed in relief, a smile playing on your lips.

Dots of blood appeared on the wounds as the girls got up from the bed, opening the bottom drawer of the night stand. You stared up at the ceiling, ignoring the burn that scorned, and a large hand pressed onto the side of your body, shifting you around.

“Come on, baby,” Abby whispered, positioning you on your knees that sunk into the bed, and could feel her bare chest brush on your back. “Need you to spread yourself for us, you can do it.”

“You’re our girl,” Ellie promised, kneeling in front of you, and cradled your face into her warm hands. “Don’t know what we would do if you tried to leave us.”

Abby wetted her fingers, spitting down on your tight hole as she pushed two fingers into it to start you off. You roughly gasped, your body nearly faltering. “Stay steady, princess,” she said, moving her fingers at an easy pace. “Gotta prepare you for my cock, I need to make sure you can take it nice and sweet.”

Your face stayed in Ellie’s hands, trying to keep you focused on her. “Make sure to keep yourself spread for mama,” she told you, and you nodded, your shaky hands clawed down on your ass as you kept it spread open for Abby. “You can take it, you always do. Isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

“Yes daddy,” you muttered, and Abby’s fingers popped out of you. She put her hand back on your shoulder, guiding you back in the same moment she let her strap harshly sink into your whole. You cursed under your breath, tears welting in your eyes, and Ellie cooed, keeping your face in place.

Abby didn’t move further, letting your hole take in all of her, and nodded at Ellie. She dropped her hands, hooking your arms around her neck as she filled your hot cunt with her strap, and your body shuddered, your face collapsing down onto her chest. “No no, baby,” she said, shaking her head. “You gotta show us how much you want us. Fuck yourself on our cocks.”

“Too stuffed,” you mumbled, and Abby’s hand reached for the front of your neck, tugging your head back.

“Show us how needy you are, pathetic bitch,” Abby spat, and you whimpered, but compiled, gently bouncing yourself on both silicone objects. “Yeah, that’s it, bunny. Fuckin’ take everything we give you.”

Ellie’s was captivated by the way your cunt swallowed her strap, dripping and soaking it already. “This is all you wanted, right?” She taunted, breathlessly chuckling. “Just wanted us to make you cock drunk, for us to treat you like the dumb whore you are.”

“Y—Yes, yes!” You choked out, rolling your hips as your body began to endure the scorching pleasure. “Oh my god, feels s’fucking good, please.”

“You’re barely fuckin’ two minutes in on fucking yourself,” Abby laughed, bringing your head back and laid down on her shoulder, forcing you to look up at her, “And you’re already falling apart. Can even hear how wet your pussy is.”

“Want to be fucked, please,” you breathed, on a brink of sobs. “Can’t do it on my own.”

“You have to earn it, love,” she stated, and grinned. “Show us how bad you need us, want us to fuck your pretty holes.”

You pouted, and she shoved your head back forward, a spin of dizziness whirling in your brain. Ellie sadistically smirked in front of you, her hands laid on your thighs, and tilted her to the side. “Looks you’re about to cry, little lamb,” she teased, and you kept heavy eye contact as your holes stretched further with every desperate bounce. “Got nothing to cry about, honey. You brought this on yourself, you know that.”

“S—said sorry, daddy. I’m sorry,” your breath shook, sobs threatening to spill from you. You were overfilled with needs, feeling as if you were in heat, and only they could put the fire out. You could fuck yourself good, but they could make you feel orgasmic tides crash into your soul, and take you in one.

“Only saying sorry ‘cause you’re not getting what you want,” Ellie said, and you were quick to deny it. “Don’t fuckin’ lie, you know how much we hate that.”

“Please, please,” you begged. “I’ll be so good, won’t be a brat ever again.”

“Fucking lying again,” Ellie scoffed, and Abby grinned, smacking your ass. “Don’t worry baby, we like when you are; means we get to see you cry and break.”

You were stuck in the middle of these two, falling apart on their cocks as they observed you, waiting for you to break down into sobs. This was their whole pride, everything they fucking thrived off of, and if it made them the happiest they’ve ever been, you would them hurt you over and over again.

Your bouncing turned rapid, breasts in sync, and porngraphic noises drawing out of you. Your sensitive spots were being hit at, your eyes rolling back, and could feel heat pooling in your abdomen. Your hands reached out for one of them, but they denied you of it, leading you to fall into pits of sobs.

“There it is,” Abby growled. “Just what we wanted.”

“Can’t do it,” you sobbed, shaking your head. “Please, need mama. Need your help, please.”

“Yeah, bunny? Need us to take over?” She asked, mockery tangled in her tone. “Can’t use that silly brain of yours, huh? Our poor baby that’s useless.”

Her words mixed in with the fire that bubbled inside of you, expanding into your thighs. “Fuck me, fuck me,” you babbled, choking on your tears. “Need it s’bad, please. Just fuck me.”

Ellie halted your movements, and kissed your cheek. “We got you, honey. Let us do whatever we want, okay? We need to fill your holes, want to see it leak out of you.”

The duo situated themselves before handling you to stretch your form better, your knees locking place to keep you up. Abby braced her hands on your waist before her strap brutally thrusted into you, Ellie following the same tempo shortly after.

You could feel yourself being split open, Abby’s hands residing on your hips as Ellie’s let hers rest on the sides of your breasts. Their noises were shaky, rough, and undeniably lewd, a string of curses muttering out of them.

They would always be hypnotized by you, your body, and how fucking well you always took them. They would fuck you hours on end, and they have before, but they couldn’t get enough it. It was a fucking drug, worse than any they’ve taken. Everything about you was addicting and pure perfection to their eyes, knowing that they would be the only ones who could see you crumble under them like this, let them take control of you, and tear you apart.

They wanted to fucking spend the rest of their life in your pussy, fucking destroying it, and letting it cry with you.

Raw lust was a firestorm on your skin, sinking into your body, and coursing through you. Your climax was overrode, about to collapse on you, and take you entirely, just needing to be free. Your legs trembled, slowly weakening, and a muscular arm snaked around your waist to lock you in.

“Our pretty girl needs to cum,” she acknowledged, and Ellie’s fingers furiously hooked around your throat, squeezing it. “What do you think, babe? We let her cum?”

“Don’t know if she deserves it,” Ellie said, and your sobs were uncontrollable; your body was breaking, haze clouded in your head, and your high was unbearable over the limit. “You want to cum, little lamb? ‘M having too much fun seeing you like this.”

“Wanna cum, need to cum,” you blubbered, breath hallowed, and could feel them so far into you, you could almost swear they were poking at your stomach. “I’ll be so good forever. ‘M your girl, only yours; won’t ever be ungrateful again.”

Ellie grinned. “You mean that, honey?”

You mindlessly nodded, agreeing anything just so you could cum — it was fucking torturous.

“Cum for us, sweetheart,” Abby said, and you exhaled in relief, your body relaxing to her permission. Like a violent hit, your high crashed out of you causing your body to jump and shudder. Abby kept her arm around you, the pair not being done with you until they came.

You could hear the sploshing of your juices as Ellie viciously rammed into you, Abby’s cock abusing your tight hole with absolutely no remorse. You were there, letting yourself be their garbage waste, waiting for them to fill you up.

“Imagine if we could fuckin’ put a baby in her,” Abby laughed, her moans knitted into it. “Make her our bitch forever, wouldn’t be able to leave us then.”

“That what you want, angel? For us to make you a pretty mommy?” Ellie asked, and you blankly agreed, braindead and numb. “Keep you trapped forever, nowhere to fuckin’ go.”

Abby and Ellie always considered that; having a family with you, though they never practically discussed it with you, or if that’s what you wanted. They truly wanted you in their life forever, needed you in every way that would kill them if they couldn’t have it. And if you did try to exit out of their lives, they would find a solution to reel you back in.

“Mama gonna fill your hole, ‘kay?” Abby warned, and you hummed, falling in and out of reality. Ellie left her on your throat as extra leverage as she continued to hammer herself into you, her own climax trailing behind the blonde’s.

A symphony of vulgar, raw noises echoed throughout the bedroom, and your second peak surfaced in the depths of your belly, your body frail and trembling.

“Fuck, baby, baby, baby,” Ellie cried out, her nails clawing into your skin, and Abby’s hands crept down to your cheeks, clawing into them. Your skin was running hot and wild, their body heat radiating onto you as the room smelt of filth and sweat, shameless moans and whimpers wailing out of all three of you.

Your cunt and hole were stuffed with cum from their straps with Abby and Ellie’s climax dripped out of their sweet pussies. They pushed themselves out of you, and you fell back on the bed, gathering lungfuls of breaths.

“Won’t you look at that?” Abby said, her and Ellie mesmerized by their cum leaking out of your holes, their initials branded into your thighs. “So fuckin’ pretty, all for us to look at.”

“Head… hurts,” is all you could manage to say, curling up into a ball.

The girls took off their object, dropping it to the floor as they separated to obtain things for you. Abby went to the kitchen, grabbing cold water, painkillers, and a box of cherries for you; Ellie was in the bathroom, wetting a rag, and seized the first aid kit.

They rushed to your side in under a minute, worried that they might have finally done it this time.

“Baby, you with us?” Ellie panicked, and you nodded, sleep wanting to take you. “Can you sit up for us, please?”

“Can’t,” you whimpered, and Abby sighed, helping to pick you up. She kissed the side of your head, holding you sit up while Ellie aided you.

“You did so good for us, sweetheart,” Ellie cooed, running the cloth over your aching cunt and hole as you hissed in response. “I know, I know. Just need to make sure we clean you up well, okay?”

Abby brought up the glass of water to lips, stroking the side of your head while you took slow sips. “There we go, there’s our tough girl,” she whispered, and opened up the bottle of painkillers, inserting two pills in your mouth, returning the glass back to your mouth afterwards. “We’re so proud of you. You’re okay, bunny, we’re almost done.”

Ellie soothed your wounds with hydrogen peroxide, putting bandaids over it after. She put a chaste kiss to your hip, and you smiled small, thanking her. “You want to get some rest?” She asked, and you nodded. “Okay, honey, let us change the sheets while you eat some food, yeah?”

Abby carried to the loveseat sofa that sat in the corner of the bedroom, handing you the box of cherries as she helped out Ellie. The two weren’t even cleaned up, but made sure you were comfortable and okay before they were.

You wanted to cry.

They’re so fucking perfect, you said in your head.

You had eaten about five cherries by the time they fixed up the mattress, and put new sheets on top of it. You set the food next to you, and Abby returned to you, scooping you into her arms as you grasped onto her, sitting you on the edge of the bed.

Ellie picked out a new set of pajamas for you, changing you into new underwear, and a soft, pink nightgown. “Get some rest, and we’re gonna get ourselves fixed, ‘kay?” She said, guiding you under the duvet covers, and made sure you were tucked in. “We’ll be here when you wake up.”

You hummed, your eyes drooping, and let rest take over you. You felt them press a loving kiss to your forehead before you passed out.

You could hear your ringtone tune, lulling you out of your slumber. You let it go through as it shut up a few seconds later, and you groaned, trying to fall back asleep.

Then, the ringtone came back, and the buzzing added onto it. Your hand reached for your phone, finding it laying next to you. You grabbed it, squinting to who was calling.

Joel Miller, the contact name flashed.

Why the fuck was Joel calling?

You noticed the time, seeing it to be 4PM — how fucking long were you asleep for?

You swiped the button right, bringing the device up to your ear. “Hello?” You mumbled, clearly exhausted and groggy.

“Hey, kid. I was wonderin’ if Ellie was with you?” He asked, trying to sound calm, but wasn’t. You instantly sat up, finding a note on the nightstand, and you picked it up.

Abby and I went out to get some things. Be back as soon as we can. Love you always, sweet girl.

Xo, Ellie.

“Um, no,” you answered, putting the note down. “Why? Did something happen?”

There was silence for a moment. “The cops are here, asking for her.”

“Cops. Why?” You asked, fear streaming through your whole body.

“They’re accusing her of murder,” Joel said, and you swallowed thickly. “Someone reported their friend missing — a Brandon James — saying how they saw him leave with Ellie, and Abby.”

Memories now began to flick in your brain, like bright lights, and bile burned at your throat.

The shirt. The red on the shirt.

Blood.

“We handled it,” you recalled Ellie saying.

“We handled it” was code for “we killed someone.”

You remembered the Brandon guy harassing you, grabbing your arm, and it sent you into full panic mode. You remember calling Abby about it, and Ellie giving you coke to distract you for the meantime. You remembered them not being with you for a while, keeping you with Dina and Jesse.

They needed you blind and gullible.

“Are you sure it’s even her description? People just say shit ‘cause they hate her,” you said, holding yourself together. “And Abby? That’s crazy.”

“Another person at the club supported it by saying they saw the two walking out with you,” Joel continued, and you quietly cursed under your breath, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. “They were there, so were you.”

You went quiet as you heard some shuffling over the line.

“Do you know something?” He asked.

“I don’t,” you said, sincerity mingled in your words. “I promise I don’t. And I don’t remember anything about being at a club, I’m sorry.”

“Okay, well if you see her or them, call me,” Joel said, and you hummed, hanging up the call immediately. You let go of your shaky breaths, and nodded to yourself as a waterfall of hot tears streamed down your cheeks.

You couldn’t stop thinking of the shirt. It had someone’s blood on it, and they were dumb enough to leave it at home. You knew Jesse and Dina wouldn’t narc them out, they were the same as Ellie and Abby.

You were alone in this; you had the choice of coming forward with the shirt, or keeping your head down, being naive to everything.

Everything started to make sense — the possession, the house, the authority you had given them. They never wanted you to leave, and they eliminated any threats, even ones that hurt you. You were glad they were there at your beck and call, but you never knew it would go to the extremes of murder. You were starting to worry that this wasn’t the first time they did this, but the first time it was starting to catch up with them.

You continued to sob as you went through your phone contacts, and clicked your mother’s number.

It took a few rings until she picked up. “Hello?”

“Momma…” you sobbed out, not knowing how to explain what you were thinking without exposing a lot of things. “Momma, I’m worried.”

Your parents weren’t entirely neglectful — if you really needed them, they were there, and would never get mad at you for anything, even if you had some fault in it. They had their fatal flaws, ones that even affected you, but they’d drop everything if you were in danger.

You never knew why that was, but you appreciated it.

“What’s wrong, dear? What happened?” She asked. “Why are you crying?”

“I think something bad happened,” you sobbed, sniffling. “And… and I can’t be here, in the city. It’s a lot to explain, but can I stay with you in Milan? Please?”

“You’re worrying me, cherie,” she said, and you broke down further, everything in the room spinning with you. “You can come stay. Are you at home?”

“At this penthouse… I’ll send the address to Tony,” you stated, trying to steady your breathing. “Thank you, momma.”

“Of course,” she softly responded, and the line went dead. You rushed down to your feet, running into the walk-in closet, and grabbed a suitcase. You tossed random amounts of clothes until the baggage couldn’t take anymore; you could buy more stuff in Milan.

You tossed your hygienic products on top of the clothes, and before you were going to zip up the luggage, your eyes averted to the hamper. You contemplated taking the shirt with you, burning it in another country so nothing would be traced back to them.

You couldn’t tamper with evidence. But these were your girls, and it was your turn to take care of them, even if their actions made you sick at this very moment. You grabbed the bloody shirt, tucking it under your clothes, and zipped up the suitcase. You put on your sneakers, and tossed a leather jacket over your nightgown.

Abby’s jacket.

You shrugged it off, and grabbed your cell phone, putting it in your purse. You double checked to see if you had everything in your purse before rushing yourself out of the penthouse, and into the elevator.

You didn’t need to leave a note, or anything of that sort. You couldn’t talk to them for a while, not until you made sure you weren’t crazy or overthinking this whole situation. But the shirt was enough to confirm the first of your suspicions, and what Ellie said.

“We handled it”, her voice kept playing in your head, like a broken record.

For now, you needed to isolate yourself; besides, it wasn’t like they would find you.

That wasn’t possible.

You hoped.

[ellecdc]

New to Nesting

alpha!Remus Lupin x omega!bestfriend reader who nests for the very first time [2.2k words]

p2 to this post but can be read as a standalone [p3 - reader's first heat]

Prompt: Nesting-character A is building their first nest and is a bit overwhelmed and confused - their nest ends up being a bit...unconventional. Character B is still incredibly proud of course.

Remus had spent the majority of his life fighting against The Wolf, his lycanthropy, his nature; he resisted the deeper urges and instincts that threatened to take over at any given moment.

So when his best friend presented as an omega, prompting him to present as an alpha, he was once again ready to fight his instincts, his nature.

Sirius told him all he knew about alpha’s - the Black’s being a line of alpha’s until Sirius presented as a beta were the only examples of alpha’s he could go off of - and it’s understandable why Remus was so wary of giving into his nature, even if it meant getting to keep you.

He had no desire to give into the animalistic urge to claim you, to have you belong to him, to be subservient to him.

So you can imagine that it came as a huge surprise (and relief) for him to realise that being your alpha was not claiming you, it was not you belonging to him, and it was not you being subservient to him.

It was caring for you, valuing you, protecting you, and it was devoting himself body and soul to you.

So, you know, nothing had really changed since the two of you started dating. What he had already felt for you just became instinctual for him.

Being your alpha meant taking care of you, and so he did.

Though he admittedly didn’t feel like he was doing a very good job of it at the moment; mostly because you were pacing around the flat chewing your thumb - which was likely very close to bleeding at this point - and mumbling incoherently to yourself as you picked up and put back various items and then squirrelling back to the room before washing, rinsing, and repeating.

He’d asked you what you were up to a few times, to which you quickly waved him off. He’d asked if he could help you at all to which you quickly declined.

He was pretending to read when you came wandering back into the room, still muttering, still chewing on your thumb, still lovely and beautiful and his and fuck he loved you.

And it was because he loved you that when you ended up standing over him giving him your best doe eyes and asking if you could have the blanket he currently had over his lap, he simply pulled it off his lap and handed it to you instead of pointing out the fact that there was a free throw blanket folded nicely over the couch across the room.

He was rewarded for his sacrifice by way of a sweet kiss, though, so he wasn’t too bothered.

While you were back in the room - doing whatever you’d been doing - he summoned the other throw blanket over and continued in his reading.

But eventually he realised he couldn’t find his bookmark, so he stood and shook his (new) blanket out and put it aside before checking the cushions of the sofa to no avail.

He knew you had come back into the room, but you still managed to startle him when he turned to find you standing right behind him with his throw blanket held tentatively in your grasp.

“What are you doing, dovey?”

“Can I take this?” You asked in way of answering; tone soft and eyes large.

Remus began to speak but his words died on his tongue; he didn’t want to say no to you, but you’d also already taken one of the blankets from the living room. Were you cold? Were you getting sick? Should he light a fire? Should he call St. Mungos?

He didn’t know where to start, so all that managed to escape his lips was “do you know where my bookmark went?”

You wrung the blanket between your hands as you avoided eye contact with him. “I borrowed it.” You admitted in a whisper.

“Oh…okay…” Remus started slowly. “But…what will I use for my book?”

That had, apparently, been the wrong thing to say when your eyes welled with tears and you looked at him in devastation.

“I- I’m sorry.” You nearly sobbed, and Remus was quickly shaking his head.

“No! No no, it’s okay dovey, it’s alright. I’ll use a receipt.” And to punctuate that decision, he pulled a wad of receipts out of his trouser pocket to show you.

That, apparently, was a mistake too as you eyed them in interest. Thankfully he was able to convince you to let him keep one of them before you squirrelled away with the rest.

And then it hit him.

He ran to the kitchen to check the calendar on the wall that the two of you used to track each of your cycles as well as the moon - you were coming into heat.

And though he was accustomed to your heats by this point; this behaviour was very new.

You were nesting.

For the very first time, at that.

Remus felt his chest swell with pride and love, though tried to keep both at bay as he carefully tiptoed down the hall towards your shared bedroom.

He could hear a record - one of his favourites - playing quietly in the background before he made it to the doorway.

Both blankets you had stolen from Remus were hanging over the two side railings of your four poster bed frame - closing in the bed with only an opening at the foot of it not unlike a den.

You seemed to have tucked Remus’ receipts and bookmark in between two pillows, and he could spot a few of his jumpers, his towel from his shower this morning, the throw pillows from the couch he usually used as back support, a hair brush, a few socks, and… a fork?

“Baby.” He breathed out, causing you to turn on the spot and bring your thumb back up to your teeth. “What are you up to?”

You let out a pained breath from your nose as your eyes welled up again. “I don’t know.” You whispered.

“Are you making a nest?” He cooed, and you let out a wet sound.

“It’s bad.”

He found he couldn’t take it anymore and pried your thumb from between your teeth, pressing a kiss to the raw skin you’d been mauling all afternoon. “It’s not bad, dove.”

“It’s terrible.” You continued as you eyed the nest sceptically.

“Stop.”

“I’m terrible at this.”

Remus took you by the shoulders and turned you towards him and forced you to make eye contact with him. “It is not terrible, and you, my love, are certainly not terrible either.”

“I’m not good at it.” You whimpered then, tears finally falling down your cheeks that Remus was quick to catch with his thumb.

“You’re perfect at everything you do.”

You let out a sound halfway between a groan and a sob. “You have to say that.”

“Dovey, it’s your first nest; it’s wonderful.” He pressed, and fought back a chuckle when he could feel you stop your foot petulantly.

“Why don’t you try it out, hm? Maybe that’ll feel better? Do you want to take a shower and get into some comfies to give it a try?” He murmured into your hair, relishing in the way you melted into his side as you considered the prospect.

“Would you come, too?” You asked shyly.

Remus pulled back only far enough to look you in the eyes.

“In the shower? Or-”

“My…nest.” You corrected, though you all but sneered the end of the sentence as if nest was a dirty word.

“I’d love to, baby. Go shower, yeah? I’ll put a jumper in the dryer for you.” He directed with a gentle pat at your hip, but you shook your head and tugged at the jumper Remus was currently wearing.

“I want this one?” You whispered in the form of a question, and Remus should have expected it.

“Done, it’s yours. I’ll wait for you, okay?”

And Remus felt a little guilty, but he figured you didn’t need to know that the second you were out the room, he ran to grab his camera and take pictures of your nest, your very first nest; one you built here, with him, for him and you with things of his you deemed worthy and fuck he was going to simply combust with the amount of fondness he felt coursing through his veins for you.

True to his word, he was standing exactly where you’d left him (if you ignored the fact that he ran to grab his camera, took multiple pictures of your nest, ran to hide the evidence of his picture taking and returned only moments before he heard the water shut off) when you exited the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

He quickly divulged himself of his jumper and held it open for you to put your head through the neck hole, allowing him to pull it over the rest of your body as you let the towel fall to the ground.

“Do you want this one too, dove?” He asked you quietly as he picked up your used towel, referring to the fact that you had his towel in your nest already.

You seemed to consider it as you lifted one end of it, bringing it to your nose to sniff before releasing it with a shake of your head.

Remus bit back a beaming smile as he pressed a kiss to your head and carried it to the hamper.

When he came back, you were kneeling in the middle of the bed with your thumb between your damned teeth again, and a protective sort of possessiveness surged through him at the sight.

“It’s not right.” You murmured sadly.

“What’s not right about it?” He asked gently, reaching over for your hand and huffing when you gave him the one not currently being assaulted by your mouth.

“I don’t know…”

“May I come in?” And you startled as you looked over at him in awe.

“Yes.” You said almost excitedly, moving over to give him room.

He tried to pay mind to where you had seemed to place things, not wanting to shift or disrupt the nest you had made as he crawled in. “Where do you want me?”

You seemed to think on that before ultimately pointing to his side of the bed where he laid back tentatively.

“You look uncomfortable.” You said worriedly as you watched him lay rigidly on his side.

He offered you what he hoped was a smile though he was sure was mostly a grimace. “I don’t want to ruin it.”

You scoffed as you nudged him at his shoulder so he would relax. “It’s already ruined.”

“Dovey.”

“It’s terrible, you can’t ruin it.”

“It’s not terrible and I can ruin it.”

“Stop arguing with me.”

“You stop arguing with me.” He countered, and he relished in the small giggle that escaped your lips as you moved to lay beside him.

“I…I think it’s better now.” You said tentatively, eyes still darting around the bed as though you were trying to make sure.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…I think it was just missing you.”

Remus let out a pitiful sound at that and pulled you into his chest. “Fuck you’re so sweet, I love you.”

You sucked in a deep - and apparently well needed - breath as you melted into his side, pressing your nose to a point in his neck signalling Remus to grab your wrist and bring it to the other side of his neck to scent.

“I’m proud of you- don’t argue with me.” He murmured, cutting you off before you even had a chance to utter one word of contradiction.

“Thank you, Rem.” You opted instead, still hiding your face in the junction of his neck he didn’t deign remove you from.

The two of you sat in contented silence for a while before Remus broke it.

“I think we could do without the fork next time, though.” He admitted as he shifted his hip when he realised that’s what had been poking him in the back.

You nearly ripped yourself from Remus’ neck to grab the fork and toss it across the room, smiling to yourself as you considered your nest again.

“Okay…okay, I- I think this is better. This is better.” You decided, speaking more to yourself than you were to him; he was happy to listen anyway.

Remus smiled as pushed a lock of hair behind your ear. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

You smiled down at him; ethereal and warm and bright and his and fuck he loved you so much.

“I love you so much.” You whispered, drawing a line down his nose with a gentle finger before pausing at his chin, apparently having read his mind.

“I love you too, my sweet girl.”

And Remus was so glad that he didn’t have to fight the instinct to pull you into his chest and breathe you in; to love you, protect you, to devote himself to you, body and soul.

[rafeacs]

Best Friend Rafe x Reader Boat Day

Warnings: None (yet), fluff, soft rafe, yearning

“AH! What are you doing here?!” You screamed in utter fright as you stepped into your room, only to see Rafe lying on your bed. You were fresh from the shower and not at all expecting a presence to be waiting for you. 

“You haven’t seen me in a week, and that’s how you greet me?” Rafe questioned as he sat up, resisting a smirk to rise on his lips as you were only covered by a skimpy white towel. You roll your eyes and sigh, a smile coming to your lips, moving to your vanity to do your after-shower rituals, not at all conscious of your lack of clothing because you and your best friend Rafe were used to such scenes. 

“Seriously, what are you doing here?” You questioned, eyes locking with ocean one through the mirror where Rafe studied you as you lathered your face with differing products. “I haven’t seen you in a week. What? You didn’t miss me at all?” He raised his brow, and you laughed at the pretend hurt on his face. “How were the Bahamas?” You asked and stood, disregarding his question, and instead went to your closet to find something to wear. “Fine. It’d be better if you came,” He shrugged and peaked as you tried to decide what to wear. Catching the way you bent down to wear your underwear and shorts, your body still covered by a towel. Any sense of boundaries in your friendship seemed to disappear after years of knowing one another. Rafe smirked as you stepped out of your closet wearing one of his shirts that you stole from him. 

You sat next to him in bed, “It was a family vacation; I didn’t want to impose.” You shrugged. “So what’d you do while I was away? Sniff my shirts because you just miss me that much?” You scoffed a laugh and rolled your eyes at the smirk on his lips. “Sure, yeah, I just stared into your picture, counting down the days until you came back.” You went along with his bit. Rafe bit his lip and hoped you were telling the truth, but alas, he could only dream. 

“No, I uh— I mostly just stayed home, baked a bit. And played tennis; there’s a new instructor at the club; he’s cute— really great at tennis, too.” Rafe was quick to grow tense at your words, jealousy quickly spiking in him. “But he’s gay, so…” You added, and that eased the green-eyed monster in him. “Hm, what you wanna do today?” Rafe asked, wanting to change the subject. 

“Mm… I dunno, I kinda want to go to the beach.” You say, and Rafe nodded, “Then let’s go,” he quickly said. “But I also kinda just wanna hang out here,” You said, indecisive. “Then let’s hang out here,” Rafe responded, willing to do anything just as long you were in his company. You sighed and pursed your lips. “I don’t know, you pick!” You exclaimed, Rafe amused by your inability to make even the most measliest of decisions. 

“Wanna go on the boat? We could sail around, get some food, and catch the sunset,” He proposed and smiled as you eagerly nodded. Going to your closet to change your attire once more, Rafe shuffled in your room to get one of your bags and pack some things he knew you would need. “What book do you want?” He asked as he placed some towels in your bag, already anticipating you’d want to bring a book for the day, as you always did. “The one by my nightstand!” You yelled from the closet, trying to decide what color bathing suit to wear. Rafe took the book into his hand and smiled as he saw that you used a photo booth picture of the two of you as your bookmark.

Rafe squired you around town, getting the necessary things for your day in the boat—a lunch from your favorite restaurant and a pint of your favorite ice cream. When you arrived at the marina, Rafe could practically feel your excitement. He was quick to disembark his truck and open the door for you, swinging your bag on his shoulder as he escorted you to his family’s boat. As the sun rose higher and higher and the view of the island drew further, you and Rafe decided to have your lunch, but before the two of you could eat, you stepped and appeared with a giant thing of sunscreen in your hands. 

“I wanna eat,” Rafe grumbled as you sat next to him, placing sunscreen on his face. Your soft hands sent chills down his spine no matter how blaring the island sun was. He kept on complaining, saying he didn’t need sunscreen, but it did nothing to hinder you from traveling your hands along his chest and back as you applied for protection from the sun. “Men don’t need sunscreen,” Rafe grumbled as he watched you apply more of the lotion on his forearms. “You say that, but even men are not immune to melanoma,” You chirped, “Okay, all done!” You said you applied sunscreen to yourself as well; Rafe was waiting for you to finish before he started to eat. 

“Can you get my back?” You innocently asked, handing Rafe the tube. Rafe swallowed as you turned your back to him. Trying not to succumb to his urges because it would surely be obvious from the swimming trunks he wore. Rafe messaged the sunscreen on your back and marveled at how soft your skin was, resisting his urges to ‘accidentally’ pull the string of your bikini top and let his fingers trail further your frame. “Al— All done,” Rafe struggled to say after a moment, taking his time to spread the lotion all over your back, savoring each moment you let him touch your skin. 

You nodded and settled to his side as they both started to have lunch, but first, you took out a baby wipe and cleaned your hands. Rafe smiled fondly as you held his hands to clean them. He just loved how you fussed over him, how you were the only one who genuinely cared about his well-being. 

The afternoon was spent with you and Rafe lounging on the deck of the boat. Rafe pointed your view to the setting sun, and your back was settled against his chest as you read him your book. Rafe had no idea about the words you uttered. All he focused upon was the feel of your frame flushed against his, your voice that soothed his mind, and the fantasy that perhaps one day, you two could be more than just mere best friends. 

[skyrigel]

Simon had him and you all convinced that it was just sex and nothing more.

“No attachment.” He always said, everytime — sometimes so hurried and forgotten that it's just mumbled against your mouth before he's shoving his tongue down your throat.

Sometimes with so much urgency that it's lost between your moans, no attachment, babe, no attachment. And you believed him because it was really just sex, wasn't it ? There were no pretty dates and no fancy dinner at ritz, maybe those poorly wrapped ones he pretended he had not ordered and takeouts he brought along...but oh please, no attachments!

But maybe sometimes about those walks in the city where he would not so subtly grasp your hand, and you would catch him stealing glances at you while a teenager fiddled with his guitar, rhyming she came, my world lit with narcotic, I am addict.

No attachment but Simon's standing outside your workspace when it's raining —“I thought you might need it.” holding up the umbrella but those two words were there again when you were knee deep in the passanger seat and he was eating you out... because it was casual, right ? No attachment.

And it really didn't burn and ached until you got sick, real sick — puking your guts out and coughing until your ribs gave up, surely he wasn't the best role model of no attachment when he was panting to death as he picked your unconscious frame from the floor, you still remember the faint whisper of his ‘please don't leave me, please, please don't —’ over and over.

And if he wanted for no attachment then he should be gone. Gone and not come back because it was just sex...

Simon shouldn't be mopping the floor, and stirring your soup and touching your forehead every five minutes.

No attachment then why he's loading your grocery and taking out trash and doing your laundry, why he's wiping your tears and telling you it's going to be alright.

Why he's not leaving like he always did because there were no attachment right, but he's right here, tucking you in bed and washing your hair and reading you book.

“Is it some eccentric joke ? Why this Zaid is always growling ?—also when you get alright... we're gonna try it out, lovie.”

You blushed, but it wasn't just what he was suggesting but that word, it felt good.

“S-say it again.” You whispered, shifting your head in pillow. Simon turned back a page he was reading from, your scrunchie on his wrist.

“Zaid growled—” You screwed your face,“—oh, we'll try it—”

“last word. Your last word.”

“Oh.” He said, “Lovie...you don't like it ?”

You shaked your head, sniffing very unsexy-ly

“Call me that...I love it.” Simon pushed up the book up his face, his neck was pulsing with his many veins and you knew the blush that would be blooming on his hard face. Cute.

“Again.” You tilted your head, to get a look at his flushed out face.

“Okay Lovie...sleep now.” He grumbled, flicking your bedside lamp off and bookmarking the book with one of your scrunchie he removed from his wrist.

“Huh...Good night baby.” You said, waiting to be corrected, waiting for those two words to come and upside down it all.

But they never came, like they never even existed, never had a meaning to them at all.

No attachment, lost forever in darkness.

“G'night lovie.” He said so sweetly, and when you closed your eyes this time, you only saw daylight.

Grim Reaper! Simon

Masterlist

[aces-to-apples]

I go with Justified Asshole, personally. I also think it's pretentious (and, frankly, dickish) to think that your work needs shock value to be a worthwhile story, but they slapped a Not Telling, Read At Your Own Risk sign on it as is the literal bare minimum requirement and their right, so anyone who gets upset about unwarned upsetting stuff has no leg to stand on.

AITA For Not Tagging a Work?

I, 32F, write primarily for my own enjoyment, my main platform being AO3. I currently have a multi-chaoter series that includes several major plot twists, including one that includes non-con. To avoid spoiling it, because I believe my stories deserve to be read with as little background info as possible, I only tag it as "Creator CHOSE not to Include Archive Warnings". Which is, as I hope is obvious, is not synonymous with "There Are No Warnings". The point is, I don't use the Rape/Non-con tag. Recently, I got a very upset reader in my comments complaining about how triggering that chapter of my work is, and that's where I have a problem. I believe the corporate obsession content warnings pervading even fanworks to be a major problem. I don't want to sanitize my work, but I do get that they contain pretty heavy themes. But I feel like I seriously do give my stories a disservice by adding labels on them, and maybe I am the asshole for this, but I value my pride and joy (my work) over strangers online. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[gloomwitchwrites]

I would love to read an imagine of TF141 and what they’d do together with the reader on vacation and you can choose any destination of your choice! Hot topical to glaciers!

Thank you!

I could have gone spicy with this. The fact that I didn't is a testament to my self-control. While there is a little heat, most of this is just straight up fluff. It's all cuteness. Good feelings only. Pure comfort. Enjoy!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, fluff, flirting, kissing, mild suggestive themes, brief mention of alcohol

Word Count: 1k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

The stars above you are white against the dark sky. The crisp, cool Pacific Northwest air sends a slight chill across your skin. A shiver passes over you, and you snuggle closer to John, seeking his warmth. He sighs contentedly, arm tightening as you press into his side. The swimming dock rocks softly, lulling you toward sleep.

It’s quiet out on the lake. No lights. No noise. It’s nice to get away from everything—to spend time with your husband that doesn’t involve home.

“I’m happy we came, John,” you sigh.

“You like the cabin?”

You nod. “It’s peaceful.”

John's lips lightly press against your temple. "I'm happy you joined me."

Whenever John leaves for a trip to the cabin, it’s almost always a hunting or fishing trip with his team. Even they need to cool off after a mission. But John didn’t ask them to come. He brought you to his favorite place.

His fingers lightly curve under your chin, tilting your head upward. Closing the distance, John greets you with a kiss that melts you down to your toes.

He smiles softly. “Up for a little swim?”

You laugh. “It’s a bit chilly. And it’s dark!”

John grins and then pushes up to his feet, removing his clothes until he’s down to absolutely nothing. His pale butt is on full display in the moonlight.

"John!" you protest, but he’s already diving in.

You sit up, startled, watching the rippling dark water. A beat, and then he resurfaces. “Join me.”

With heat rising in your cheeks, you follow his lead. You do not dive as gracefully.

As you resurface, treading water, John cozies up to your, reaching for you beneath the surface. Your legs wrap around his middle, the two of you silently floating under the stars. The water is cold but you hardly care. John is warm, and so are his kisses.

They are cute at first, little peaks that become deeper, making your core clench with anticipation. The chilly water is a distant thing in your mind. All you know is John, and this moment, and all the days you have ahead with him.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

It’s hot in Miami. The beach is packed.

But Kyle is uncaring of the crowd, too busy with the remote-control toy excavator you bought him just for this beach trip.

“How’s the digging?” you ask, flipping a page in your book. You lounge under an oversized umbrella.

Kyle moves the joystick with his thumb. The yellow toy excavator picks up a chunk of sand and dumps it to the side. “I’m going to have the biggest hole on the beach.”

You nod, and lightly pat his shoulder, returning to your book.

There are a few minutes of silence between you before Kyle puts the remote control down and turns to look at you.

“What?” you prompt as Kyle continues to stare.

“I’m bored. Wanna go play mermaids in the ocean?”

Inserting the bookmark, you close your book and set it aside. “Absolutely I do.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“I’ve never done this before, Johnny.”

“I know, love. It’s okay. I’m right here.” Johnny holds your hands in his. "Being scared is nothing to be ashamed of."

Before you is a mountainous slope covered in snow. Plenty of people are already on it, descending to the bottom on skis and snowboards. Some are lightning fast with others meander slowly. It looks fun—really, it does—but this is completely new to you.

When Johnny said vacation in the Alps, you didn’t think this. You were imagining a fancy cabin with nice food, a hot tub in the snow, and steamy sex next to a roaring fire.

“I’ll hold on to you. The whole way down. We’ll do this together.”

“You won’t let me fall?”

Johnny’s gloved hands squeeze yours in reassurance. “It’s just the bunny hill.”

“For children. I’m not a child.” "Oh, aye. It's for wee ones. But also, for newbies. Besides, I'll be with ya." He winks. "Won't let anything happen."

"That is not reassuring," you mutter, the snowboard wobbling slightly under your feet.

Johnny is the only thing keeping you upright. He grips you tightly, completely at ease in the snow.

“Do you promise?” you ask.

Johnny releases one of your hands to move his goggles into place. He lightly taps his helmet against yours.

“Promise.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

"Her sisters are in Greece."

"You Brits like to steal everything."

Simon chuckles. "Throw a rock in here and you'd hit something that came from somewhere else."

He steps away from the statue, turning to move on to another. You follow him, trying to see what he sees.

“I wouldn’t take you for the museum type.”

"Why?" asks Simon, arching an eyebrow.

You gesture at him, and Simon snorts. “Fair point,” he replies, glancing down at himself. He looks more ready to jump on the back of a sportbike rather than tour a museum.

Simon moves on to a new statue, head titled slightly as he peers up at it. “I like museums. They’re calm. Quiet. I can take my time. No one needs me. No one expects anything from me.”

He says it so casually, but you hear the underlying sigh. There is something heavy beneath it. A weight he carries but you can’t identify what it may be.

“I can be here for hours,” he murmurs.

“So…no pub crawls?”

Simon attempts to stifle a laugh. “Love a good pub crawl. Johnny and I go on them all the time. He always thinks he can out drink me.”

“Does he?”

“Never,” grins Simon.

He holds out his hand, wiggling his fingers. You slide your hand into his, the warmth of him chasing away your worry.

Simon pulls you in close, two of you leaving the statues behind.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[cookiescribble]

Extracurricular

(gif source)

A/N: this has been sitting in my drafts fully written for like a month, i’m so sorry 😅 but i know we all love the professor episode, so I had to write a little something about it 🫶🏻 - mod angel

Pairing: Professor!Reid x Wife!Reader

Summary: Spencer is confused about why so many students are auditing his class. As his wife, you decide to come and investigate.

~~~

You heard the apartment door open, glancing up to see Spencer drop his keys on the table by the door. 

You were reading on the couch, laying down and killing time before it was time for him to come home. You sat up, placing your bookmark on the page you last read before dropping your book on the coffee table. “Welcome home,” you smiled up at him. 

He flashed a little smile, but you could tell something was up. You moved to sit cross-legged, making room for him on the couch. “What’s wrong?” You asked, patting the spot next to you so he could sit. 

He plopped down on the couch, sighing, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into you. 

“You looked so excited this morning,” you ran your fingers through his hair, something that had become routine when he came back from a tough case, or just needed some extra affection for any reason. “What happened?”

He sighed again, turning to look at you, resting his head back on the couch. “I don’t know, I was really excited to teach. I love sharing what I know with people.”

You nodded, fully aware of this. It was something you loved about him, always eager to teach you something new. It was annoying when other people did it, but not when Spencer did it. “Uh-huh. So what’s the problem?”

“I… I was eager to be an actual professor, hoping I could help people with their studies and their grades.” He looked a little frustrated. “But most people are only auditing the class. Only a handful aren’t.”

You nodded thoughtfully. “That’s not what you were expecting, huh?”

He shook his head. “I mean, I guess it’s good that people want to learn about this stuff? It’s just not how I pictured it.” He shrugged, running a hand through his hair. “At least they’re listening to me. And some of them are pretty enthusiastic about participating. There were a few girls who seemed really excited about this stuff.”

You looked at him, narrowing your eyes a bit, a little smile on your face. “Wait, so… these people are auditing your class. And girls are participating… you said they listen to you… do you think they’re paying a little too much attention to you?” You inquired, slightly amused.

He gave you a confused look. “What do you mean? I think it’s a normal amount of attention to pay to a class.” He shrugged. “I mean, I always felt like no one was paying enough attention when I was in college, so I was pleasantly surprised that people were actually participating, asking questions, some of them even stayed for a bit after the class let out because they wanted to know more.”

You couldn’t help but let out a little laugh. “Uh-huh… so, you got college students to not only stay awake, but alert and attentive… and they wanted to stay after class,” you spoke slowly, wondering if he would get the hint.

He nodded. “Yeah? Why?”

You gave him a pat on the shoulder, smiling and shaking your head. “Yeah, I know exactly why so many people are auditing your class.”

He still looked confused. Very oblivious. It was kind of adorable. “I don’t understand,” he replied, his brows furrowed.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, twirling a finger in his hair. “They must’ve heard that this class has a sexy professor.” You laugh softly, watching the cogs turn in his brain as he processed this.

He scrunched his nose a bit, shaking his head. “No, I don’t think that…” He stopped, his eyes darting around as he became deep in thought. Probably perfectly recalling everything from his class that day. “… You really think that’s it?”

You nodded, kissing his cheek. “It’s adorable you wouldn’t have even considered that if I didn’t say anything.” He was absentmindedly running his thumb over your hand that rested on his shoulder. “I mean, I don’t blame them. I’d definitely audit your class.” You took his hand and started twirling his wedding band around his ring finger. “Did you tell them you’re married?”

He started to blush a little at the attention you were giving him, and at the thought of other people wanting to give him attention. “I’m pretty sure I mentioned it at some point… I think someone asked about it-“ He cut himself off, looking at you again. “Okay, maybe you’re right.”

You laughed, draping your legs over his as you gave him a quick kiss on the lips, which he returned. “Maybe I should visit your class, see what all the fuss is about,” you winked at him.

He smiled, running his fingers through your hair. “I don’t know if I’d be able to concentrate with you there.” He leaned in to kiss your forehead. “But, I admit, it would be nice.”

The conversation eventually fizzled out, as you and Spencer naturally fell into your usual evening routine; mostly just sitting on the couch in each other’s arms, talking, watching TV, and eating dinner. 

You had an idea in your head the whole time, keeping it to yourself. You had a surprise planned out now. 

…

The next day, after Spencer left for his class, you quickly got dressed to head out, throwing on a sweater and modest skirt with some flats. Nothing too fancy, you wanted to fit in with the other students. 

You remembered him telling you the building his class was in, and you were able to slip in like you were supposed to be there. You found the classroom after wandering for a while, quite a few students already sat in the class. Of course; very eager, you thought

You thought about just sitting in the back to blend in with the background, but something possessed you to sit in the middle near the other girls in the class. Not really jealousy; you knew Spencer has never even given anyone else a second glance since you started dating. It was more like… pride. Perhaps a smug feeling. You may be infatuated, but that’s my husband.

You sat down near a group of girls, and they eyed you for a moment. You fidgeted, thinking they were going to start whispering bad things about you. Habit from when you were in school. 

Instead, one of the girls leaned over, speaking to you in a friendly tone. “Hey, are you new to this class?”

You probably should have just admitted that you weren’t actually a student, but part of you just wanted to see what would happen. “Yeah, this is my first time here.”

She leaned in to whisper, “Did you hear about the professor? Is that why you’re here?” She was giving you a genuine look, seemingly just curious. Or maybe happy to talk to someone about this. 

You feigned innocence. “No, I was just interested in the subject. Is there something special about him?” You reply in the same hushed tone as her.

She looked at the other girls around her, and they all giggled. One of the other girls responded. “He’s super hot. Didn’t you hear the rumors?”

You bit back a smile. It felt strange, having people talk about him like this. “No, I didn’t hear anything. Is that really true?” You tried to seem interested, without being conspicuous. 

All the girls nodded. You leaned in a bit to match their enthusiasm. 

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up,” one of the girls whispered. “He said he’s very happily married.” She all but rolled her eyes at that. 

A little smile appeared on your face, a warm feeling rushing over you. You put your hand under the table, hiding your wedding ring. “Really? Well… maybe I can have better luck with him.” You rested your chin in your other hand, smiling smugly. 

She scoffed, obviously not believing you. “Yeah, sure. He wouldn’t even look at any of us.” She shook her head. “If you want to believe it, go ahead. I’ll be waiting to say I told you so.”

You were cut off by the sound of a door opening and closing. Spencer stepped out in front of everyone, putting some papers down on his desk. The girls immediately stopped their conversation, sitting up straighter in their chairs and facing forwards. You covered your mouth to keep yourself from snickering. 

Spencer greeted the class, who echoed back his greeting. He started to introduce the material he was going to be talking about today, when his eyes settled on you. His expression softened. 

You gave him a little wink and a subtle wave. He looked like he was holding back a smile, looking away from you to concentrate on teaching. 

It was really a sight to behold, he had most of the class twirling their hair, wrapped around his finger without him even realizing. Not like you could blame the students; he was always able to make everything seem fun and exciting. It was something you loved about him. 

The class seemed to fly by. You were honestly glad you came; you could watch him talk for hours. You’re sure he would if you asked, and you were considering it after seeing this. 

When he dismissed the class, the girls started swarming him at his desk. You laughed and rolled your eyes, standing up slowly and hanging back a bit. 

You could see him politely answering questions, ignoring the girls sitting on his desk and quickly packing up his things. 

You walked closer to his desk, and he looked up and smiled. “Hey!” He called out to you, rushing over to wrap you up in a hug. You could feel the stares on you as you settled into his arms, and he kissed your forehead. “I didn’t know you were coming today!”

You smiled up at him. “I thought I’d surprise you.” You reached up to give him a quick peck on the lips, solidifying the jealous eyes that were glaring daggers at you. You couldn’t help it; you felt a pride building up inside you that you were the one he sought out while he was being crowded like this. “Surprise?”

He laughed, tucking you into his side, his arm around your waist. “Yeah, surprise.” He turned to everyone who was still lingering around you, their faces a mix of confusion and jealousy. “Everyone, this is my wife.”

You gave a small wave, everyone greeting you halfheartedly. You locked eyes with the girl who initially approached you earlier. She seemed more embarrassed than angry. 

Spencer gave you one last little hug. “I have a few things to finish up, I’ll meet you home later, okay?”

You nodded, giving him one last little parting kiss before he slung his bag over his shoulder and started to walk out of the classroom door. 

Everyone was looking at you again, and you felt a little embarrassed now that Spencer wasn’t there with you. You started to excuse yourself quietly, trying to get out the door quickly without bringing more attention to yourself. 

You heard someone catch the door after it almost closed behind you. “Hey,” they called out as they caught up to you. 

You turned to see the same girl again, and you had to suppress your instinct to run away. Instead, you just nodded at her, giving her your attention since that was obviously what she was asking for. 

“I, uh…” she started, her tone nervous. “What I said earlier, I wasn’t trying to say anything bad about you, I was just…” 

You gave a soft chuckle in response, shaking your head. “It’s alright. I get it.” You gave a little wave of dismissal. “I might’ve done the same if I was in your position.”

That seemed to ease her worries a bit. “Thanks for being cool about this.” She hugged the books she was carrying closer to her chest. She spoke a little softer. “Dr. Reid spoke very highly of you, you know. When we asked about his wedding ring.” She flinched a bit. “Which I guess was kind of a weird thing to ask…”

You smiled, shaking your head a bit. He had people asking about his wedding ring, and he didn’t even have a second thought about it. “It’s alright. He didn’t even think anything of it. He thought you were just really interested in the course material.”

She furrowed her brows. “Really?” She still looked confused when you nodded. “Huh. Well, I guess he really loves you if he doesn’t even notice people flirting with him.”

You shrugged. “No, he’s just a little clueless when it comes to this kind of thing. I had to really spell it out for him that I was interested in him when I asked him out on our first date.” You smiled warmly at the memory, reliving those early days of your relationship, so long ago now.

She let out a soft laugh. “That’s kinda funny, actually.” She stopped walking, looking like she had to start walking a different way. “So… no hard feelings?”

You turned towards her and shook your head. “No, not at all. Maybe try not to come onto him in the future, though.” You smiled slightly, your tone light and casual.

“Of course,” she laughed awkwardly. “Um. I have to go to class now, so…”

You nodded at her. “Go ahead. Hope you have a good day.”

She smiled. “You’re really cool. I see why he likes you. Most people would’ve been really angry if they were in this situation.”

“Well, I’m not insecure about our relationship.” You felt your phone buzz, and you took it out of your pocket to see a text from Spencer, making you smile. “And I don’t fault anyone for being attracted to him.”

“Cool,” she said, starting to step back a little more. “Um. It was nice meeting you.”

You gave her a little wave. “You too. Hope you enjoy the class; Spencer is really happy to be able to teach people, so I hope everyone is actually listening to him and not just staring at him.” 

She laughed lightly, her demeanor a little warmer now. “I’ll try to get the message out.” She waved and said goodbye before turning around and walking away. 

You finally looked at the text Spencer sent you: 

Hey, do you think you could pick up some dessert on your way home? I’m really craving something sweet. Maybe we could make brownies?

You smiled to yourself. Seeing all those people throwing themselves at Spencer really made you appreciate what you had with him. He had people gawking over him, but you were the one who got to go home with him and make dessert, and have all these sweet moments with him. You’d never get over just how lucky you were to be the one he chose to spend his life with.