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#british gp 2024#f1#shitty gifs to remember that i saw this live 😭#they're homoerotic quite possibly last home race podium together (😭) hug#their* (i swear i can spell.. ....sometimes 😭)#love to see it#lewis hamilton#peter bonnington
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Land 1 done!
Without crossing the bridge to get rekt'd by the final boss and trigger a bad ending, of course :p
I know the game puts more emphasis on gameplay than on characters, unlike, say, FE 8x2, but damn if every little situation you recruit random characters makes me think of past FE events in different titles and it just... fits? Somehow?
Like, evil empire has trouble conquering a party of Cornia, but behold! A mysterious plague pops up, that is totally not tied to the shady as fuck necromancer who works with the evil empire and says it'd be annoying if people find a cure.
So we have some guy and his army of cleric wearing plague doctor masks trying to find a cure by, uh, experimenting/working on people who already caught the plague, even accepting to work with the evil empire because curing the plague is more important, right?
Ends justify means yadda yadda... save for the part I earlier mentionned, that it is heavily implied the evil empire is the one who created that plague to begin with!
Now, imagine in a FE game if, in the background, we had to rescue people or hear about people being afflicted by a strange and unknown disease... and if that disease was engineered by people for a further motive...
8x2? Nah.
We also have quests where people are fighting for the evil empire who is occupying their land because they believe as long as they obey their people won't be put to the sword...
(I watched my bro play the final chapter, we know how it ends lol)
Not!Cyril fighting against bandits, finding and helping a witch fend off people who are trying to "catch her" - we even get a flimsy excuse for a bikini attire in the process and an answer to the "why do i use spells to rejuvenate myself in a sexy body? It's because I won't be able to move as fast as I can now if I was a crone" other flimsy excuse, etc etc.
Now it's time to enter the land of fucked up siblings relationship (sure Virginia is Alain's cousin - who looks like his mom - and can end up with him, but this is not the kind of Jugdralian stuff I had in mind) and let me tell you, all those plot bunnies I had in Jugdral about Lester believing he was going to become Lord of Jungby all of his life, only to have his role/throne snatched before his eyes by a bum who's apparently his cousin and can use the legendary shiny bow of legend is... basically Drakengard (Drakenhold in english?), but up to eleven.
Ah, and it wouldn't be a post from me if I don't find a way to rant about the localisation lol
Josef, upon meeting Virginia, basically goes in the audio "it's been a long time since I last saw you". In the english version?
Like what are you implying Josef, she wasn't a princess when you saw her last time or didn't have the "standing" fit for a princess?
Besides, I hope the release of the october book won't blow a hole in the Josef's "you were a teenager when we last met" by releasing character ages, but that's not really that important.
This however
Alain greets his long lost cousin, nothing wrong here right?
Well, in the JP audio, he calls her with the "hime" suffix, showing as much deference as Josef, who is a retainer of the royal family. Virginia doesn't use any suffix because that's her, but in Alain's various support convos, we learn that he had to learn and to behave like a proper noble after escaping from his castle 7 years ago, and all this noble/formal stuff is something he doesn't use with his commoner friends.
Ergo, this minor thing here is important, especially in the Drakengard themes : siblings/relatives used to be close, but reuniting after a long period of time or several life changing events, they are changed and even if they want and try to, cannot be as close as they once were.
#unicorn overlord stuff#i guess the loc can fancy the script if they want#but sometimes adding too much can be counterproductive#and why the crap did they erase the suffix/aka formal way Alain uses to talk to the cousin#who was like a sister to him and to whom he used to confide to when he was a kid?#medieval 'realist!!!' flair is a box already ticked with#second son having to ascend the throne by mistake as his dad and older brother died/are missing#and the previous king accepting to foster the exiled princess only if she marries his first born#to later free and actually conquer her kingdom#granted with Alain here Virginia's dreams of restoring her land and being the next monarch melted#and this is fucking adressed in the game#both in an event in a support/rapport convo like#now that I can finally have 4 people squads the game is like#opening an entire new can of strategy/possibilities#but plz for naga's sake Travis stop tanking things with your face#you're supposed to dodge a 30% hit not eat it damn#Yana follows in her mentor's steps missing spells at 80% accuracy#I swear I legit wondered if I lost the prologue when Alcina missed at a random like lady#stop giving me more reasons to dislike you
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i hope this isn’t super weird to share but i’m going through a grief situation in my family right now and for some reason your art really is getting me through. i’m not sure why! i loved it before this happened but reading it again is comforting somehow and the way that your characters are embraced in their flaws and feel their pain fully for some reason calls to me at the moment. can’t wait to see what happens between them ♥️ they’re messy but it’s so cathartic and exactly what i need right now
also a song that makes me think of your fic whether it’s appropriate or not is ‘we’ll never have sex’ by leith ross xox
happy friday
No darling, this isn't weird. Thank you for reaching out.
I'm going through something myself and this little pocket of "weird" that I'm writing is kind of helping me push through. I read fiction for the same purpose - some feelings are safer when they're explored within a story. Please never apologize for what you find comfort in, because at the end of the day, no one has to walk in your shoes/live in your skin/see the world through your eyes/experience what you've weathered. We're all on this planet trying to Fucking Make It, man, and I tell you what: find joy where you can. If it doesn't hurt anyone, it's game. If it's my fanfic then dude hold the reigns and let out a scream when it bucks. That's all I've got to say on that.
Also: thank you for the song rec!!!! About to listen now, very excited <3 Song recs are literally a good 90% of my playlist additions and I'm spoiled rotten with them omg <3333
I hope you're well. Please know I'm thinking such kind thoughts in your direction, and happy Friday lovely <3333333
#jesus fucking christ this made me tear up#hey if you're going Through It (R) right now please know we are in this pit together. seriously#sometimes people are so gentle and kind that it makes me cry. thank you. I think I needed a lil camaraderie tonight#also I just typed out 'camaredarie' for the first time in my life and it is NOT spelled how I would expect#thank you gentle anon and I'm gonna light a candle for us both#asked and answered#only the sweetest come to my inbox I fucking swear#also: nothing but the gentlest of wishes for you family anon. I'm sorry you're tasting grief as well#but perhaps we can both find comfort in the fact we're eating off the same plate.
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(same anon here with the touchy guy best friend) Don't get me wrong, Aaravos, I never reciprocated his romantic feelings...I always knew they were there, but I didn't want our friendship to get awkward because of it
What I didn't know was he'd been alienating me from the other guys for MONTHS, and I'd always feel left out and lonely in groups, and he'd be the person i'd turn to, the person i thought I could trust
So when i found out he was the cause of all my misery, my heart just absolutely shattered, you know? Because I didn't know this was the sheer extent of his feelings for me...and it creeped me out, because he was the kind of guy who didn't take no for an answer
my sixth sense would always scream at me whenever he'd touch me in a way I wouldn't like...like the one time he put his hand on my waist, and honest to god, I was not only creeped out, but I was also scared. i don't know why, and i didn't know how to tell him to stop touching me, but it scared me...i was thirteen years old, and i still remember my heart pounding-
and i do hate him, but honestly, i feel like its my fault too...the signs were all there from the start and i chose to ignore them in a desperate bid to revive a friendship and a person i knew was too adamant to change
and i think this is the first time i'm really, genuinely talking about this, since i don't think i have any friends at all anymore
Oh, goodness, little one, you've been carrying this around for quite some time, haven't you?
Starling, breaking away from such a thing with little to no support is incredibly difficult, and I am so, so proud of you for it. <3
...Do let me know if you ever see him again. I have a blade you can borrow, if you'd like.
#aaravos answers#ask#anonymous#and i would happily cause harm to any who wish it on my flock#you have friends here little one <3#mun says:#making friends is both easy and difficult#if you make a rp blog for your blorbo its an easy way to find people who also like them#and then sometimes they will geek out bc their fave character is talking to them and you can be internally shrieking#and you are both internally flipping out about This Is Such A Cool Person Why Are They Even Talking To Me Aaaaaaaaa#and then they??? like talking to you????#oh look you made a new friend#(THIS HAPPENED MULTIPLE TIMES I SWEAR IM NOT COOL AARAVOS IS JUST MAGIC)#anyways <3 you got this!#Talk To People is really hard believe me i know but surprisingly often they Talk Back and they Like You and Are We Friends Now??#it's weird#harder and easier than you think all at the same time#or is that just me?#oops rambling too long sorry#anyways. my spell slots are limited my friend slots are not. hi#okay goodnight <3
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Another highlight from dnd last night
Tfw ur at 14 hp and get hit for 5 damage. And u try to update ur hp to 9, but accidentally just make ur hp 194. Whoops! Let me just take that back down- WHOOPS! I "lost" 185 hp, so the blood mechanic thinks I took a MASSIVE amount of damage. Whoops! I have bled all over the map.
#speculation nation#blood/#fang#d&d#everyone was just like 'oh GOD what the fuck did you DO'#we had to clear the blood from the map bc we just couldnt fucking see Shit#it's hilarious but also interesting bc u can rly see fang's weird blood. we have it set so it's darker than normal blood#anyways yea this is from where i picked up our unconscious buddy and was trying to run off the map#bc we were in an infinite spawn situation with these bog zombies. but Whoops i got grabbed lol#i actually didnt completely suck ass last session. unlike the session before.#i still didnt manage to hit anything but i managed to grab this dude and go Running.#i was shifted so i had advantage on strength checks (homebrew shifting feature bc i Never used the claw attacks lmao)#managed to quickened spell heal myself which thank god i did bc i took 10 damage next turn#so i wouldve gone down had i not healed myself#i Love being a multiclass bard ❤#bard sorcerer so i can actually fucking use bonus actions sometimes. via quickened spells or bardic inspiration#wizards dont have Shit for bonus actions usually. i like being able to do more shit.#anyways yea. i was still a total punching bag. took like half the hits in this fight i swear#but i managed to keep myself up And grab our buddy so he wasnt left behind. and that's what matters ❤
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Me because I found a fanfic author I like but they have the SHITTIEST WORST MOST DUBIOUS DUMB IDIOIC BLANDEST BLASPHEMOUS CRUNCHY MIND NUMBING BRAIN CELL HOGGING TOE SUCKING ASS FUCKING UNINTELLIGENT DENSE IGNORANT FOOLISH DULL SLOW WITLESS SIMPLE MINDED EMPTY HEADED VACUOUS MORONIC IMBECILE OBTUSE ACUTE EVERY FUCKING ANGLE TO EXIST EXCEPT THE FUCKING RIGHT ONE DOLTISH GULLIBLE NAIVE THICK SKULLED BOVINE WOODEN HEADED LIKE FUCKING PICCONCHIO DAFT NONSENSICAL UNTHINKING INSANE LUDICROUS RIDICULOUS LUDICROUS HALF ASSED OPINION THAT YOU COULD ONLY EVER HAVE IF YOU DIDNT READ THE FUCKING SERIES but you can’t hate on it because people are gonna send me death threats because it involves a really popular ship that I don’t like.
Bungo stray dogs fandom can we give characters life outside of their ship pretty please<3333
#bungo stray dogs#Bsd#Bungo stray dogs random makes me want to hit myself with a book#did we even watch the same show#I don’t mind the ship but the characters can exist out side of it#i swear to god#I swear to god if I see another post that’s like “chuuya need Dazai because chuuya weak:(((#I’m going to become violent and start eating vintage coaches#I hate how the word coaches it spelt#I know it’s right but spelling feel wrong#I hate the Bungo stray dogs fandom sometimes#I love you all dearly (kiss kiss smooch smooch) but what the fuck are you guys doing#did we read the same book???#did we watch the same show#who are these characters because they are NOT the ones I know and love#and I will write another character analysis that will take up my entire day to do so#I will read every book and and take notes and watch the show a hundred times over to prove myself right#do not test me#also my ear hurts
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i think i have been sick in some way for a month. losi.ng my marbles.......
#and i've had 4 shows and i have a choir performance in TWO DAYS#right now it's that i keep coughing (sometimes the coughs hurt) and i can feel that i'm congested#recently i was shaky and lightheaded and i developed a 30-minute fever#before that i had to blow my nose every 5 minutes and there was just always more to blow#before that i was achy and my eyes were heavy and i was constantly freezing even with 3 layers#and all those phases lasted like a week#and on top of that i've been having allergies since april 1#and the weird thing is i NEVER get allergies and i'm NEVER sick#this is an evil wizard spell i swear to god#I JUST WANT TO FEEL NORMAL PLEASE!! BREATHING OUT OF BOTH NOSTRILS WOULD BE GREAT !!!!!!#ough.#tag twaddle#kindling
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James Potter x slytherin!fem!reader
Summary: When your "friends" play a dangerously stupid prank on you, James is the last person you'd think would help you.
Genre: Fluff, hurt and comfort <3
Warning: swearing, mentions of being drugged/drunk, violence, mentions of blood, protective!James
JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST
When James sees you walk into the classroom with an unusually cheery smile, he can't look away.
"Sirius," he pauses and leans in closer to his friend, "does she look unwell to you?" James whispers, clearly concerned for you. Sirius lets his chin rest on his palms as he looks over at you nonchalantly.
You almost trip on your shoe-laces as you make your way to your desk and you laugh a little too loudly, but only James seems to notice that particular detail.
"Y/l/n? She seems quite happy to me," Sirius's smirk is heard in his voice but James doesn't look amused.
"No, something's wrong. She's usually quiet and she," he doesn't finish his sentence when he sees your friends in the corner of the classroom.
Some of them look as concerned as he is while most hide smiles and snickers behind their hands as they look at you. James's eyes bounce back to you and his frown deepens. Something is wrong. Instantly, he's on his feet.
"Prongs!?" Sirius sounds surprised but it's no use trying to stop him because James is already on his way to you.
Just as you raise your arm to run a hand in your – already annoyed – desk partner's hair, James quickly swoops in and catches your wrist. You pause and when you turn your head to look at him, your smile widens.
"Potter!" you slur.
James can be an idiot sometimes, but he does know you're not drunk. He's never seen you drink. You look dizzy and he comes to the conclusion you must be under the influence of some kind of spell. He looks you over and sees the nasty cut on your knee. Anger bubbles in his stomach as he remembers how your friends somehow found this all incredibly funny.
You tilt your head at him slightly and say, "You have pretty eyes, did you know that?" you smile a smile James usually loves and was never directed at him before, but by now the entire classroom has their eyes on you and, because he knows you would hate all this unnecessary attention, James helps you stand.
You let out a breathy giggle when his hands find your waist and hold you steady.
"What are you doing?" a shrill voice asks from behind him and James clenches his jaw. He turns around. It's one of your friends. She's also in Slytherin and as hard as he tries, James can't remember her name.
"Helping your friend," he says blankly, "She seems a little out of it, doesn't she?"
"She's fine," your friend rolls her and tucks her dark hair behind her ear. "Aren't you, Y/n?" she asks you with a faint smirk.
Your body sways and James's arms move from your waist and swoops around you to hold under your armpits. "I'm okay — y-yeah, I'm okay. I feel better than fine," You mutter, eyelids fluttering slightly as you giggle at his touch.
James isn't at all convinced you're okay.
Your friend's cruel smirk and the mystery of how you've bruised your knee leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.
"She's bleeding," he states as calmly as he can.
"She's just clumsy."
"She's obviously been hexed or something," James narrows his eyes.
Your friend laughs at his accusatory tone. "What? And you think I did it?"
"Yeah, actually, I do."
At this point, it's obvious you aren't paying attention to their argument as you start to play with James's collar. His cheeks flush pink as your hair skims his chin and the smell of your shampoo fills the air.
"Well if you won't tell me what happened to her, then I'll find out myself," he says and his hand moves to hold yours. "Come on," he whispers sweetly and you let him lead you out of the classroom.
James is extremely careful with you. He makes sure you don't trip in the hallway, or run into any doors and walls, and more importantly he stays with you when the nurse comes to make sure you're okay.
He leans over the hospital bed as his hand hover over your knee as he asks, "What's happened to her?"
"Veritaserum," the nurse says as she presses her palm on your forehead.
"The truth serum?" James is confused. "Doesn't that make someone tell the truth? Why would it make her act so," he turns his head to look at you and conflicting emotions creates what feels like an empty pit in his stomach. You look so beautiful with your eyes blown wide as you glance around the room. "So ditzy?" he finishes in an endeared whisper.
"It isn't uncommon as everyone can have different reactions," The nurse explains as she gently inspects your knee, "I think whoever made this potion must not be particularly skilled."
James clenches his fist around his cloak and tries to remind himself that you probably wouldn't want him to beat up your so-called-friends.
"What's happening to me?" your voice comes out strained as you try and focus on their conversation as you catch on to their confused faces.
"Nothing, honey, you're fine. Your friend was worried and he,"
You interrupt her, "James Potter? Oh, he isn't my friend." You look up at James and his smile disappears. He's embarrassed as he searches your face for any indication that you're joking but clearly you aren't because you ask him. "Potter, do you even know my name?" You sound serious.
James hesitates to answer, "Of course I know your name, Y/n," he finally admits.
He doesn't expect your eyes to light up but they do and you turn to the nurse, "He does know my name," you whisper with a smile.
James's heart swells at how happy you seem and he smirks a little. Amused, the nurse lets you continue, "You'know," you lean in closer and mutter just loud enough for James to hear without you knowing, "I really like him."
Surprised, his heart jumps and the nurse panics as he quickly shuts you up. "Alright honey, let's clean up this nasty little wound and then wait for the potion to pass, ok?" you nod and focus on her as she waves her wand across your knee and the cut disappears.
Once she's done, the nurse turns to James and says, "I know you must be curious, Potter, but I think Y/l/n should be alone while she recovers," the nurse turns to you again and looks at you sympathetically.
"He can stay!" you insist, "I want him to stay."
James looks into your eyes and he wonders how he can even think of disappointing you.
But, when he looks at the nurse again his heart sinks. He can't stay, he knows he can't. It would be unfair. You deserve to keep your secrets — all those feelings you wouldn't share with him normally — hidden away in your pretty little head.
James knows he can't take those away from you so he nods, stuffs his hands in his pockets, and sends you a lopsided smile. "I'll see you around, mmh?"
He leaves before he can focus on the way you called his name because if he does, he knows he'd feel compelled to rush back in and stay by your side. On his way back to the classroom, he can't help but smile as he remembers your words. Only, his smile disappears the moment he hears your friends in the hallway.
James stops in front of them and they do the same. The girl from earlier crosses her arms. "What's your issue, Potter?" she snarls, "Where's Y/n?"
James refuses to answer her question. "You gave her the Veritaserum, didn't you?" he accuses and some of your friend's squirm guiltily. The dark-haired girl just smirks.
"So what if we did? She isn't dying, is she? It was funny," she turns to your other friends with a grin and they nod meekly. "You should have seen her stumbling around, she wasn't even fazed when she fell and scraped her knee on the cobblestones. It was hilarious," she continues.
James's face burns from the points of his ears to his cheeks. "Hilarious?!" he repeats, his voice stern, "What kind of friends find it funny when their friend hurts themselves? She didn't know about the Veritaserum, did she?"
The girl shakes her head but one of your other friends interrupts. He's a tall, lanky Slytherin with icy blue eyes and vibrant auburn hair.
"Of course she didn't know, Potter. It wouldn't be as fun if she did. I would think you would understand," he admits with a grin.
James's hands shake as he stares at your friend rambling. The boy only chuckles and turns to his friends, amused, as he taunts, "Slipped the potion in her drink myself this morning."
He doesn't finish his sentence as James punches him. He stumbles back into the girls, cupping his hands around his nose, as they shriek in surprise. James shakes his hand out a little and narrows his eyes. "You don't spike someone's drink, asshole. And don't fucking insinuate I would ever do something like that to anyone!"
"What the fuck? Why do you even care?" The boy hisses as one girl holds his shoulder and tends to him. "You're crazy."
And sure, maybe James was crazy but he won't tolerate someone hurting you.
Ever.
* * *
"James, just give the poor girl some space," Remus sighs as he tries to concentrate on his essay. "She's gone through enough these last few days. Haven't you heard the rumors going around? They're brutal."
James resists the scream that bubbles in his throat. "I know. I know. I just want to be there for her," he whines and Sirius wraps his arm around his shoulder.
"You'll just make things worse," Sirius says, "Last rumor I heard is that she faked it all for your attention."
James clenches his jaw. "How would I make this worse? It's all so fucking cruel, Pads. She's all alone," his heart has been slowly breaking whenever he thinks of you sobbing in your dorm or sitting alone during your classes and meals.
He shuts his eyes a moment and then sits up abruptly and says, "I know what to do."
Remus looks up and with a worried expression, his eyes widen. "Prongs," he starts but James is already standing. "Sirius! Don't let him leave!" Remus insists but it's too late because their friend is already out the Common Room door.
When James enters the Great Hall, he pauses and searches for you. He sees you sitting alone and he becomes so angry he can't think normally.
He storms up to the Slytherin table and jumps on top of it. Some cutlery and food falls to the floor and students turn their heads. James just clears his throat, making a show as he stumbles on his feet.
If everyone wants to gossip about something, they can gossip about this.
With a grin, he spreads his arms and shouts, "Can I have everyone's attention?" The Great Hall turns silent and James struts down the table until he's much closer to you. You feel your cheeks heat up and you hold your breath.
Remus and Sirius run into the Great Hall, calling James's name but it's too late because James is now standing in front of you as he holds out his hand. "Y/n, will you go out with me?" He asks, his voice loud and calm.
Whispers break out as your heart thumps in your chest. You look into James's eyes, searching them and when you reluctantly take his hand he nods a little and pulls you up onto the table with him.
Quickly, he pulls you closer and then whispers in your ear, "Say no. Trust me."
Your frown deepens but the words leave you without thinking, "No?"
James smirks and just subtle enough for no one to see, he kisses your cheek and pulls you away from him. Dramatically, he stumbles backwards and covers his heart. "Ow, you're killing me here, love. What will I do without you?"
If you didn't know he had just asked you to reject him, you would think he sounds genuinely hurt. As he stumbles, he trips on someone's glass and with a loud crash, he falls to the ground.
Students gasp loudly and so do you as you cover your mouth with your hands and rush to the edge of the table and peer down at him. When you see him sitting on the ground he suddenly blows a kiss up to you, a small paper bird flutters up to you and then turns into rose petals.
Your eyes widen and you can't help but laugh when James continues to make a scene and the petals fall in your hair. "You're breaking my heart, darling. Criminal," James whispers and winks dramatically.
"James Potter, detention. Now," McGonagall's voice booms and when James sees you hide a smile behind your hand, he smiles too.
A while later, as James sweeps up McGonagall's classroom floor, all he can think of is your happy smile.
"James?" Your voice interrupts his memory and he jumps a little, turning towards the door. You stand in the doorway, a flustered look on your face as you hesitate to come inside. James drops the broom and rushes over to you.
His knuckles hover over your cheek as he says, "Y/n, are you okay?"
Your eyes widen and you touch his hand. Gently, you pull it down to his side again as you whisper and ask, "What was that all about?"
James searches your face for anger. "I wanted to take the embarrassment off of you. You don't deserve anything that's been happening to you, love. None of it is your fault."
You look at him more seriously. "Yeah, it's been a little hard but I can handle the teasing. You shouldn't have done that," you say and James's heart clenches in his chest.
"I'm sorry if I upset you, Y/n. I just wanted,"
You interrupt him, "No. I mean you shouldn't have asked me to say no," you pause and look up at him, "unless, you don't actually want to go out with me. But, I know you know how I feel about you and I,"
Your sentence dies and you don't know what else to say.
James's expression softens. You look up at him, almost pleading with him, "Please don't make me repeat what I said in the Hospital Wing. It's so embarrassing, and I know you heard me. I wasn't exactly quiet."
James smirks. "When you said you like me?" he holds up his finger and pretends to ponder, "No I'm sorry, you really like me," his smile widens as he looks at you. You feel warmth in your cheeks and look away.
"Yeah, that."
"Well, I really like you too."
Your eyes widen and you look up at him. James uses his thumb to lift your chin. You realize how close your body is to his and your breath hitches in your throat. James's hand moves to your cheek, caressing it softly as you whisper, "You do?"
James lets out a breathy chuckle. "Of course I do. You're beautiful, kind, incredibly smart it's annoying," his eyes are full of admiration, "What's there not to like, darlin'?"
You frown, glancing quickly at the emblem stitched onto my robes and then you look at him again. "But, I'm a Slytherin. I didn't even think you ever knew who I was until last week. We've never really talked."
James's smile falters and his thumb moves behind your ear as he holds your cheek. "That's my fault. I should have said something sooner but with my reputation and all," he looks away, his face twisted in shame, "I didn't want to scare you away."
You see the sincerity in his eyes but ask wearily, "So it doesn't bother you?"
"That you're in Slytherin?" James smiles a little. "No, it doesn't, love. I don't care. I've seen how you are and I think you're absolutely lovely," he catches himself, "I mean, I'm not saying Slytherin's aren't lovely,"
You shut him up with a kiss. It's confident and startling but James doesn't complain. He simply pulls you in closer and lets his mouth explore yours with a passion he didn't know he had. He didn't know how starved he was of your taste until now.
Fuck, he's fucked.
You pull away, lips wet and stare at him. "Sorry," you mutter.
"Sorry?" James frowns and leans in to kiss you again, "Don't you dare be sorry. Just kiss me," his words leave you a mush in his arms and you're happy for his hand around your back because otherwise you would fall over.
When he finally disconnects your lips, he leans his forehead on yours and whispers what he'd been thinking, "You'll kill me, love."
You smile and hold his arm. "Thanks for saving me by the way, when I was under the potion," you say.
James leans away and studies your soft expression with a small smile. "I'd be an asshole not to help you. I didn't want to see you get hurt."
"Still, if you hadn't seen that something was wrong I don't know what would have happened."
"Nothing would have happened because I was there," James insists and kisses your forehead, "I'll always be there." He adds in a whisper into your hair.
It's only for him to hear. He doesn't want to just tell you he's there for you, instead he wants to show you. Everyday.
#james potter x reader#james potter#marauders#james potter fluff#james potter smut#marauders fic#james potter fanfic#james potter fanfiction#james potter x you#marauders imagine#james potter imagines#james potter imagine#james potter blurb#james potter fic#james potter x y/n#marauder james potter#hp marauders#marauders era#marauders imagines#harry potter#harry potter fanfiction#hp fanfic#hp#maraduers harry potter#marauders fanfiction
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need you now
in which an impulsive voicemail leads to some secrets being spilled.
pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader. warnings/tags: angst (sorry i’m incapable of being nice lol) hurt/comfort tho!! lil bit of fluff too because i AM capable of being nice, alcohol consumption as a coping mechanism (i’m literally just a girl…) spencer and reader are broken up :( but they’re still sooo in love and it’s soo obvious so it’s fine!! (also it kind of gets fixed at the end-ish. you’ll see *evil smirk*) reader cries a lot (real) spencer is a cutie (as always) spencer and reader sleep together…no like literally, not in a funny business way, some swearing, no use of y/n!!! wc: 3k a/n: hihihi!! so this is my first fan fiction i’ve wrote and completed ever (gulp) it’s also my first time publishing one (gulp) my writing could definitely be better and so could my grammar tbh but i HOPE if you choose to read you’ll enjoy…feedback is always appreciated (plsplspls) also like requests?? if anyone’s into that—id love to write more but inspo is difficult sometimes. if there’s any spelling mistakes im sorry, eye am very tired!! it’s 5am *eye twitching* okay i’m going to sleep, gootbye IF U SAW ME EDITING THIS 5 TIMES NO U DIDNT (i’m bad at tumblr ok..)
“Hi. This is Doctor Spencer Reid. I’m not available right now, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can…”
His tinny voice cut off to make way for the signature beep of the beginning of a voicemail recording.
You could hang up now—you should hang up now, save yourself some dignity and go drown your sorrows in alcohol like a normal person instead of calling your ex-boyfriend.
You should, but your mouth was opening before your finger could reach the hang-up button, and…and it was a losing battle from the moment you clicked on Spencer’s icon.
“Uh—hi, it’s…it’s me.” You huffed out a sad laugh.
“So, um, I…I tried calling, but you didn’t answer so…” The static buzz of silence hummed through your ear, just inches from where you held your phone with a shaky grip. “maybe you’re on a case or out with friends, or someone else—“ You let the implication hang in the air—the thought of Spencer potentially being in a relationship bringing a lump to your throat.
You swallowed it down.
“I just…I just had an unbelievably shitty day, Spence.” You sniffed, wiping the moisture that had escaped from your eye with your sweater sleeve. “I know you’ve never read A Series of Unfortunate Events but I think I’d give those kids a run for their money.” You tried to laugh but it came out as more of a sob.
You inhaled shakily, trying to collect yourself and remember why on earth you thought it would be a good idea to call Spencer when you’d been broken up for months. Hell, you hadn’t heard from him at all since you had parted ways—except from the odd text about returning each others’ things. It was obvious he had moved on, and here you were, filling up his voicemail with blubbering messages and making references to adolescent books.
“God, sorry about this.” You breathed out a watery chuckle. “I just…didn’t want to be alone, I guess. But that’s-um-not your problem anymore, so I’m—I’m sorry. Have a nice night.” Your voice cracked and you hung up before you could start weeping down the line. You didn’t need to look even more pathetic.
You pulled your phone away from your ear, looking down at his contact photo through blurred vision. He was smiling—not the tight, closed lip smile he gave other people, but a full, bright smile that had his dimples showing. One of your hands was wrapped loosely around his neck and the other was holding your phone just far enough away to capture both of your smiles. Your head was rested on top of his shoulder, tilted just slightly to the left so your temple was brushing against his.
It felt like looking at a vintage photograph—you knew those people and their happiness existed at some point in time, but it wasn’t tangible; you couldn’t verify it was real.
When you were with Spencer, you never doubted how real it was. All you had to was look at him across the room and he’d flash you a smile identical to the one in that photo and you’d just…know.
It felt like forever ago now that you’d been on the receiving end of that grin and it killed you. So much so that before you could consider the repercussions, you were trudging through to your kitchen and grabbing the bottle of whiskey that sat unopened in your cabinet. It had been a present—from Rossi, actually. When Spencer had first introduced you to the team, the older man had given it to you as something of a welcome gift. Of course, he couldn’t have known you weren’t much of a drinker, and since you wanted to make a good impression (and because you were sure it had cost more than all the alcohol you had consumed in your life combined) you accepted it—deciding to save it for a rainy day.
You think this qualified.
You grabbed the bottle, a glass, and padded back through to your living room, slumping onto your couch. You filled your glass up a little less than halfway before gulping it down, enjoying the burn in your throat—it was better than the constant thickness.
You poured yourself another glass before turning on the TV. You weren’t sure what was playing—it didn’t really matter anyway, your vision was already being obscured by tears again.
You thought the pounding was in your head at first—serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Only, it wasn’t, because moments later the pounding subsided and instead, your apartment door was opening, casting your pitch-black living room in a yellow glow which temporarily blinded you.
You squeezed your eyes shut, your mind hazy—again, serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Someone was calling your name, but there was too much sensory input for you to make out who.
You certainly hoped it wasn’t a paramedic—maybe your neighbour had heard you sobbing for the last four hours and decided you needed a wellness check. Then there were hands on your face, and that had you flicking your eyes open, because you recognised those hands—impossibly soft, with a callus on his trigger finger being the only thing to mar them. Spencer.
“Spencer?” You slurred.
He sighed in exasperation (or relief) and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.
“Are you alright? You weren’t answering your phone, I thought…” He trailed off, worry evident in his voice.
You sat up then, trying to compose yourself even though the room was spinning. Fucking whiskey. You rubbed your eyes haphazardly, blinking until you could finally see.
You should’ve stayed bleary-eyed. Because nothing could prepare you for the way your breath hitched when you finally saw him. After months of not seeing each other, Spencer was here, sitting on your couch, and he was looking at you like you were something fragile, and—God, you needed another drink. You turned away from him, reaching for the neck of the bottle as you spoke.
“I’m fine.”
Before you could lift it up, Spencer gently pried your hand away from the bottle with his own, and then slid it across the coffee table with his other.
“You’re drunk. No more of that, please.” His tone wasn’t unkind, but he left no room to argue. You probably would’ve objected anyway, if it weren’t for the way he kept his hand clasped around yours, rubbing soothing circles into your pulse point almost absentmindedly.
You glanced up to him—to stop yourself from staring at your hand in his and how natural it felt, more than anything—but that proved to be a mistake too, because he looked just as beautiful as thirty seconds prior and it felt just as natural for him to be sitting next to you on your sofa, but it wasn’t natural anymore.
“How did you get in?”
“My key.”
“Oh.”
Right. The key that he still had because you refused to meet up with him to let him return it. He tried for weeks to contact you, but you ignored him, because getting the key back meant things were finally over. You supposed he could return it now—maybe that’s why he came in the first place.
“Why did you come?” You asked, your voice impossibly small.
“You called.” He replied—as though he was talking about something as simple as the weather. You call and I come.
You searched in his eyes for any sign of a lie, but of course, there was none. He was being completely genuine—as always. You were the awful ex-girlfriend who left concerning voicemails on his phone and had him travelling to your apartment in the middle of the night only for him to look completely okay with the situation—like there was nothing he’d rather be doing than making sure you were safe.
You couldn’t help the way tears sprung to your eyes or your lip began to tremble as you lolled your head back onto the couch, pulling your gaze away from his.
“Angel, what’s wrong?”
You liked to consider yourself to be a strong person. You had been through things in your life that were objectively worse than your breakup with Spencer, but something about the gentleness of his tone and the way he had let one of his many (past) petnames for you slip had your throat tightening and you ducked your head into your one hand—the other still seized by Spencer’s—to try and muffle a sob.
“Hey,” He trailed his hand that was wrapped around yours up your arm, all the way to your shoulder blade before lightly guiding you towards him. You don’t have enough energy in you to fight his magnetic pull, so you shuffle over until you can bury your head into his shirt. You inhale his scent; vanilla, neroli, and so him it makes you ache.
Stopping your tears is futile—you’d know, they’d barely ceased all night—so you just let them fall, seeping into Spencer’s tie as he rubs one hand softly up and down your back, the other cradling the crown of your head.
His breathing is quiet and slow—the exact opposite of yours—and you try to imitate it—forcing air into your lungs. When your sobbing has turned to shaky breathing and the occasional sniffle, he speaks up.
“Do you want to talk?”
Talk about what? About what had happened today—what had led you to calling him? Talk about how for the last few months, he had been the only person you had wanted to call?
“No.” You hated how pitiful you sounded.
“Okay.”
Spencer didn’t say anything else for a minute—your synchronised breathing being the only thing to stop the room from falling into dead silence.
“You need to rehydrate.” He murmured, smoothing down your hair.
You hummed into him, in no hurry to unwrap yourself from his body. You probably wouldn’t get to be this close to him again, after all.
He moved both of his hands to your biceps, pulling you back slightly so you could look at him. He knitted his brows together in a silent plea which had you rolling your eyes petulantly, your lashes still damp from tears.
“Fine.” You peeled yourself off of him, pushing yourself into a standing position. Horrible mistake. You were still incredibly drunk, turns out, and everything was spinning a little bit and come to think of it, you were also nauseous and—
“Careful, lovely.” Spencer placed his hand firmly on the small of your back, keeping you upright.
and—actually, you were fine now.
He stood too, moving his hand just slightly over to your waist so he could guide you to the kitchen. When he knew you could stand upright—even if you were relying mostly on the counter behind you—he grabbed a glass from your cabinet, moving around effortlessly to pour you some water. The sight was so domestic you almost wanted to cry again. Maybe in some alternate timeline, where you and him could’ve worked, this would be an every day thing—minus the drunk sobbing part, of course.
He handed you the glass of water, watching as you took a few sips. He raised an eyebrow, nodding his head slowly.
“Whole thing, please.”
You let out an exasperated (affectionate) sigh and gulped the rest of it down, setting it on the counter behind you.
“Happy?”
“Very.”
You smirked, trailing your gaze down his body. He was still in his work clothes which, at the very least, meant he wasn’t on a date before he came here. He always changed before dates—well, for you, anyway. You wondered if he had been on any dates since the breakup—you certainly hadn’t. It had been long enough now that it wouldn’t be weird for you to start seeing other people—but you didn’t want to. You weren’t sure you’d ever want to, to be completely honest.
The more you thought about it, the more the whole thing seemed stupid. You didn’t want anyone else, you wanted Spencer. You had tried to get over him but if tonight was any indication—it clearly wasn’t working. You can’t even remember why you broke up in the first place—it all seemed so insignificant now. No amount of pain you had ever experienced in your relationship had come close to that of living without him.
You met his eyes once more and it was like he could see the question brewing. He tried to stop you, calling your name in a quiet warning, but you ignored him.
“Why did we break up?”
He frowned, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth with his tongue in that maddening way he did.
“I—you know why—“
“No, but I don’t! I know things were difficult sometimes but that doesn’t mean it didn’t work. It worked—we worked.” Your eyes were stinging again.
Spencer pressed his index and middle finger into his eye, furrowing his brows.
“I know, I know we worked, angel—but you were sad all the time, remember? I was gone so often and it wasn’t good for you.” His true emotions were indecipherable but his tone was soft, and you wished you could be as calm about this as him. Did he just not care as much as you did?
“But It’s—It’s worse now—“ You choked out, tears falling freely now. “I was sad when you were gone, but you always came back—you don’t come back anymore.”
Spencer removed his hand from his face, flexing it at his side like he was uncertain what to do with himself before taking a stride towards you. He brought a hand to your face, wiping the tears from under your eyes delicately—like you were made of porcelain.
“Listen, sweetheart—alcohol affects your ability to regulate your emotions and I know right now it might feel worse but that doesn’t mean it always—“
“Spencer, stop! It’s not the fucking alcohol, I miss you! I miss you all of the time! Even—even when I’m having a good day—I still want you—and especially when I—when I have a bad day—“ You choked out through heaving breaths.
“Breathe.” He urges, cupping your cheek. And you’re so, so angry, and sad, and tired that you have no choice but to shut up and listen to him. When you’ve adequately calmed down, he moves his hand to your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him.
“I don’t think we should talk about this tonight but I—“ You open your mouth to protest.
“I promise we can talk about it tomorrow when you’re sober—if you still want to.”
Your lip trembles of its own volition and you frown.
“Of course I want to.”
“Okay,”
“Okay.”
He gives your eyes a final wipe before he’s—rather unexpectedly—pulling you into a hug. You all but melt into him, your head finding its home in his sternum and your arms wrapping around his middle. He tilts his head down, kissing the top of your head—and you’re certain you can’t let this go again. You will chain him down before Spencer leaves this apartment again.
Everything is wordless from there—mostly because you’re so, so exhausted that even talking seems like too difficult a task. Spencer helps you find something more comfortable to change into and you pull out an old t-shirt of his and a pair of plaid pyjama pants you had kept here for him. I guess your keeping them ‘just in case you needed them in the future’ had come in handy, after all.
As you washed your face, Spencer snuck through to the kitchen, refilling your water and grabbing two aspirin in a not-so-subtle attempt to help the inevitable hangover you were going to have in the morning.
You caught him placing them on your bedside table and mock gasped.
“Trying to drug me in my sleep so you can make a run for it in the night?”
He grinned lazily—exhaustion creeping up on him as well.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
You smiled, flopping yourself onto your bed rather ungraciously. Spencer looked at you like you were something fascinating before biting his lip, clearly deep in thought.
“What?” You let out a self-effacing little chuckle.
“I was just…wondering…if you’d like me to sleep on the couch?”
You probably should’ve been more careful in your facial expressions considering you were still broken up but your thoughts about that offer were obvious.
“No, stay.” Stay in your bed, in your apartment—stay anywhere that was close to you.
Maybe you were coming on a little too strong.
“Unless you want to, I mean—“
“No, no—I’ll stay.” Forever, preferably.
He walked around to the other side of your bed—as he had done so many times before—and sat down, pulling the covers over his legs. You mirrored his movements before flicking your bedside lamp out, turning to face him.
You were a little thankful you were so out of it, because this had the potential to be very awkward otherwise. Spencer shuffled down so that he was at eye level with you, turning to face you as well.
You just stared for a moment, committing him to memory. The moonlight had a way of highlighting all the high points of his face, and the twinkle in his eyes, and—God, you were so glad the moon existed and that Spencer was in your bed that you couldn’t help but giggle.
“What?” Spencer laughed along with you, even though he had no idea what was so funny.
“Nothing. You’re pretty.”
“You’re drunk. Go to sleep.”
“Don’t wanna.”
“Why?”
“Scared you’ll be gone when I wake up—like I made it all up.”
Spencer’s smile faded then, and he looked at you with something that seemed so much like the one thing you had been willing yourself to stop doing the whole time that you’d been broken up, that it almost took your breath away.
“I won’t. I promised, didn’t I?”
You nodded.
“So there’s nothing to worry about. Now get some sleep, lovely.”
You smiled, feeling Spencer’s hand inching towards yours. He intertwined them and gave yours a squeeze.
“Just in case you make a run for it in the night.”
You chuckled, your eyelids fluttering shut. Yeah, you could make it work.
part two!
#spencer reid#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid imagine#criminal minds
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kiss me
PAIRING: rafe cameron x fem!reader
SUMMARY: 3 times rafe’s attempts to kiss you for the first time failed and the 1 time it didn’t. OR you have a ‘thing’ going on with the most popular guy of your school, where you both just know about your mutual attraction, but aren’t doing anything about it. how cliché, am I right?
WORD COUNT: 4.6k
WARNINGS: rafe is such a tease and a pain in the ass (but reader loves him); nerdy reader who loves science; swearing; high school au; swearing; slightly suggestive jokes; reader overworks herself; fluffiness and softness overall; I always beta read my fics but if there are any minor grammatical/spelling errors please ignore
EDITH SPEAKS: and it’s out!!! I’ve been wanting to write something like this for so long and i hope I did justice to the entire 3+1 idea! I always love fics in this format and I hope mine is pretty fun to read too <3 please reblog if you enjoyed reading! feedback is always highly appreciated 🪻
masterlist / join my taglist / requests
ONE — SNEAK IN
The soft chirping of the cicadas and the rustling of the trees in the gentle breeze is completely lost on you as your focus remains solely on the assignment opened in front of you, your headphones fixed in place, canceling any noises from outside whatsoever.
Your attention is so absorbed by just your work that you don’t even realize when the window of your room slowly slides open, revealing no one other than Rafe slowly climbing inside your room. It’s only when Rafe accidentally bumps into your dresser and lets out a groan when you are made aware there is someone besides you in your room, and the sudden realization makes you let out a scream.
“Jesus–” Rafe mutters, quickly muffling your scream with his hand covering your mouth. “It’s just me, calm down,”
He watches your widened eyes slowly fall shut for a moment before opening back up, the tense muscles of your body slowly relaxing. He gently removes your headphones and keeps them aside on your bed, his hand coming off your mouth and falling to his side.
“You scared me!” You say, giving a light smack to his arm as you scoot over on your bed to make space for him. Rafe only playfully rolls his eyes and sits next to you on your bed. His eyes skim over your assignment sprawled over your bed sheets in front of you before meeting your gaze.
“What?” He teases, leaning back against the headboard, watching you look back at him with that adorable confused expression that he loves.
“Oh, I don’t know,” you begin, “probably something about how you just sneaked in?” You say, your voice taking an incredulous tone.
He chuckles softly, his heart only melting more at your incredulity, and the way your eyes widen when he begins to make himself more comfortable; fluffing the pillow behind him once and slouching against it.
“You talk a lot sometimes, you know that?” He teases, letting his fingers curl around your arm and giving you a gentle tug.
You only huff at his words, trying your level best to not let the small smile pulling the corners of your lips to be shown to him, because you just know the amount of teasing it’ll entail.
You let him pull you closer to him, now both of you sitting so close to each other your knee touches his thigh. You look at him, all slouched and comfortable in your bed as you sit upright.
“What?” You mutter, as he gazes back at you with a gentle smirk on his face.
“Nothing,” he shrugs, his smirk only widening as he keeps on gazing at you, the eye contact strong and firm, and it’s clear none of you are ready to cut it.
You can feel a certain heat rising up in your cheeks with the way his piercing blue eyes simply refuse to leave yours. It’s intoxicating in a way – the feelings bubbling under your skin when he looks at you like that, and no matter how hard you wish to try, you just can’t take your own eyes away from his.
“What are you even doing here?” You mutter, your eyes still sinking into his.
“What? I can’t visit my favorite girl?” Rafe says – more like challenges – a matching look in his eyes as he leans forward just slightly.
That catches you off guard, no doubt, but you maintain eye contact with him, squinting your eyes just a bit.
“Liar,” you mutter, your tone accusatory, a finger coming up pointing towards his face. “I know that’s not true. What do you want? Chemistry homework? No wait, you suck at math you probably need–”
Rafe can’t help but let out a quiet laughter at your words, his gaze breaking apart from yours as he looks down at his lap, shaking his head quietly as he laughs.
“What?” You clear your throat, sitting up straighter as you grab your assignment back again and bring it in your lap, flipping through the pages to find where you left off before a certain intrusion completely broke your focus.
“Hey hey come on now,” he says, gently pulling the above assignment out from your hands and keeping it aside. “I’m here, give me attention,” he pouts, sitting up straighter in bed and shifting closer to you.
You let out a deep exhale and turn to look at Rafe. “See? That’s better,” he mutters, a small smile playing on his lips as he lets his fingers gently tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.
Another silence envelops you two, but this time it’s more charged – as if a certain pull is making sure you don’t even attempt to take your eyes away from him. The silence only electrifies the moment between you two more, and before you know it, you can see him ever so slowly gravitating towards you.
“Honey I’m home!”
Your mother’s voice rings through your entire house, and it’s like the sharpest knife cutting through the thickest tension. The bubble that formed around you and Rafe bursts immediately and Rafe springs away from you, both of your eyes widening.
“Shit,” you curse under your breath, suddenly remembering how your mother left the house to buy some groceries.
“I’m just gonna–” Rafe says immediately as he scrambles to get up from your bed, giving a quick adjustment to his hair once and rushing over to your window from where he had sneaked in.
“Yeah yeah,” you breathe, and you can hear the steady steps of your mother coming up the stairs of the upper level; right where your room is.
“Bye,” Rafe says shortly and climbs out of the window and goes back down with the help of the huge tree in your backyard; following the same path he took when he came up.
Your eyes drift over the messed sheets where he was just laying a moment ago, and towards the window where your curtains flutter under the wind. A moment later you hear a knock on your door and it opens, your mother’s head peeking in.
You snap your head towards her and give a gentle smile, letting her enter your room and engage in a conversation with you.
As much as you try to talk with her with complete focus, your mind goes back to that moment, and to say you feel butterflies in your stomach just thinking about it is the biggest understatement of the century.
⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹
TWO — LIBRARY
“Wait wait wait, this was– ethylene?”
“Yeah,”
“And, this is… fuck what was it?”
“Acetylene,”
“Acetylene, yeah that, so that’s acetylene,”
“Uh huh,”
“And, what’s the difference again?”
You look up from the notebook to be met with a sheepish smile on Rafe’s smile, and you let out a soft sigh.
“I know I know I’ve asked this a million times but, just one last time? Please?” He pouts, batting his eyelashes in an attempt to ‘woo’ you.
“Okay okay you can stop that,” you mutter and shake your head, hearing him silently chuckle. You open a fresh page of your notebook to explain to him the structural differences between ethylene and acetylene again.
“... this has a double bond and this has a triple, that’s… that’s literally it,” you say, looking up from your drawn structures on the paper to his face.
“Ohhhh,” he exaggerates, snapping his fingers. “I get it now,”
“Uh huh now you do,” you mutter, trying to figure out how he just couldn’t understand the difference between double and triple bonds. Somewhere, you knew he was just doing this to tease you, but you push that thought away in your mind, instead focusing on searching for the next topic from your book.
Rafe has been on the cusp of failing chemistry – something which is not a shock to you – for quite a while now. It didn’t matter one dime to him but now when his teacher made him sit down and actually realize how much he’s been falling behind, it was like a switch of reality had turned on in his mind.
“Rafe, these grades just won’t cut it. You need someone to help you with this,” the teacher had said, rubbing the bridge of his nose, clearly tired with the boy sitting in front of him.
“Y/n will help me, for sure,” he had said with a cheeky smile, the thought of getting you to tutor him making him overly giddy.
The teacher had agreed, and now here you are, in the school library, spending your hours trying to explain the mere basics of organic chemistry to him. Can’t say you’re complaining about it, though.
“Okay so I think I’m going to pick up isomerism next, it’s easy and should finish quick–”
“Nah I’m tired,” he whines, dragging your textbook away from him.
“What the– give it back!” You say, attempting to take it back from him as he keeps it well out of your reach above his head.
“Nuh uh,” he grins, shaking his head. “Come on, we’ve been going over this… alien language for the last hour. I get it, carbon adores hydrogen, blah blah,” he rolls his eyes.
“It’s not an alien language,” you huff, “you’d understand it if you actually focus on it,”
“It is an alien language,” he retorts, keeping the book back on the table. “Don’t you think our lives would be so much easier without all this chemistry and physics?”
“But I like them,” you defend, realizing there’s no way he’s going to get back to studying, so you resort to gathering all your stationery in your pencil pouch.
“Yeah yeah I know you do,” he smiles, watching you collect your stuff. “I, for one think that Newton was boring as fuck. He just wasn’t laid enough I’m telling you. If he was, he wouldn’t have spent his time studying apples falling from trees,”
You snap your head at him, a furrow in your brows and a look of disgust twisting your features. “Huh?” you exclaim, falling shut just the next moment as you glance over your shoulder towards where the librarian is sitting, realizing just how loud you were.
Thankfully, the librarian is busy with talking to some students, so she didn’t hear your loud reaction to Rafe’s absurd comments.
“God,” you mumble, shaking your head and turning to look back at Rafe, who just has an amused grin on his face.
“She’s gonna kick you out if she hears you,” he muses, glancing at the librarian himself before looking back at you.
“Yeah I’m aware,” you mutter, focusing back on gathering your stuff.
“So…” he begins, leaning slightly closer to you and keeping his voice low, “what did you think of it?”
“Of what?”
“Of Newton not getting laid enough,”
“Rafe–” you groan, closing your eyes tight for a moment to regain your composure. You exhale deeply, before looking back at Rafe. “That’s fucking ridiculous,” you mutter.
“No it’s not it’s a serious matter, I mean, think about it,” he says, “if he was busy with girls he really wouldn’t have any time to think of apples or whatever,”
“He wasn’t thinking of apples he just saw an apple falling and came up with the concept of a force that is pulling things towards Earth–”
“Yeah yeah that, I know that missy, but he had way too much free time on his hands–”
“He made important contributions to physics–”
“Contributions my ass all he did was give me a fucking headache–”
“That’s not–” you shut your mouth again, taking another deep breath to control yourself. “You’re impossible,” you mutter, now keeping everything in your bag.
“Aw come on,” Rafe laughs, gently taking your hands in his to stop you from packing your bag. “I know I’m being a real pain in the ass, and I’m sorry yeah?” He says, his voice taking a gentler tone as he gives your hands a soft tug, pulling you closer to him.
Your focus gets completely diverted from the bag you were packing; the idea that you would just leave now completely absent from your mind.
A silence falls over you two, only accompanied by the sound of the occasional footsteps around the library, the ruffling of the pages and the scratching of pens on papers. It’s quite silent; only a few people in the library, leaving you and Rafe to a table all by yourself.
“I’ve got to say…” he murmurs, his voice now incredibly low as he leans just a bit towards you, “you’re a great teacher,”
“Yeah?” You mumble, your eyes flicking down to his lips for just a second before finding his eyes back again.
“Yeah,” he hums, giving a nod of his head in agreement. A gentle smile pulls his lips as he gazes into your eyes, his hands still gently holding yours.
“What?” You say quietly, suddenly starting to feel self-conscious under his gaze. You attempt to turn your face away from him, but just the moment you turn your head a little bit to the side, one of his hands leaves yours to gently grip your chin and turn it back to meet your gaze.
“Don’t hide your pretty face from me, yeah?” He mumbles, his fingers under your chin for a moment too long, before he lets his hand let go of your chin.
You can feel your cheeks heat up from his comment. He’s said you’re pretty many times before no doubt, but this specific comment just felt different.
The peaceful moment between you two is broken immediately when you both hear the sound of a throat clearing behind you. You both snap your head to the side to see the librarian standing on the opposite end of the table, her arms crossed in front of her chest as she glares at you.
Flustered, you quickly tear your hands away from Rafe’s grip and keep your head down, busying yourself back with packing your bag.
From the corner of your eye you catch Rafe sighing, crossing his own arms in front of his chest and leaning back in his chair, his gaze on his arms.
“The library is closing,” the librarian says, her voice crisp and stern as ever. “You have two minutes to vacate,”
“Yes miss,” you mumble under your breath, your fingers subconsciously fiddling with one of the zippers on your bag.
With one last glare, the librarian leaves the table, but you can still feel the intense focus of her gaze on yourself, as if she’s pinned you in place and you have no chance to even move a single limb.
“Buzzkill,” Rafe mutters under his breath as he stuffs everything in his bag and hangs it on his shoulder, standing up. You quietly stand up too, hanging your own bag and following Rafe out of the library. On your way out, you feel the librarian staring at the both of you as you walk out. Rafe walks with an air of carefreeness while you only feel more and more judged.
Well, you most certainly won’t be coming back here anytime in the near future, that’s for sure.
⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹
THREE — THE HALLWAY
The quietness of the long hallway has a small sense of eeriness to it, watching it being empty instead of being filled completely with the hustle bustle of students between periods.
Rafe sighs quietly as he keeps his books in his locker, even the smallest sounds echoing in the silent hallway. As he’s almost done with keeping his stuff in the locker, the sound of footsteps in the hallway catches his attention.
He looks over his shoulder to watch you; your back to him as you reach your locker and open it to keep your own books. He smiles to himself at the sight of you. How weird is it that you both are only apart for one period and he already misses you deeply?
He saunters over to you, leaning his back against the locker door next to yours and gazes at you with a smile on his face.
“Hey there, pretty,” he hums, watching your eyes find him. “Smashed the test, I assume?”
He watches your eyes drift down from his silently as you get back to keeping books in your locker, your lips pressed in a thin line.
Rafe’s smile falters at your silent attitude. You had a huge calculus test, and the nerves had been getting to you all day before the test. Rafe had been doing his best to keep you relaxed, but with how much pressure you tend to take about tests and how heavy the subject actually is, he knew his efforts were fruitless. He saw you begin preparing for it as quickly as humanly possible, and it was extremely hard for him to convince you to prevent you from spending every waking second studying for it.
“Hey…” he mumbles softly, watching you keep yourself busy with keeping and pulling random notebooks in and from your locker. “What happened? You okay?”
Again, he’s met with silence. You even refuse to let your eyes meet.
Rafe exhales deeply through his nose as he gently places a hand on your shoulder. That grasps your attention, you flicker your eyes from the locker to his eyes.
“The test didn’t go okay?” He asks softly, gently closing the open locker door with his other hand. His gaze is fixed intently at you, and when he watches your gaze drop down to your shoes and your head shaking ‘no’ in response, his lips tug down in a frown.
“Oh no…” he mumbles, moving closer to you and wrapping his arms around your shoulders to pull you in a warm embrace.
You press your face into his chest, your arms hooking around his waist. “I studied so hard…” you mumble into his chest, “but I just, i don’t know what happened, I fumbled and forgot everything, even the things I was confident with…”
“Shh shh it’s okay…” Rafe mumbles, his words the most soothing balm you’ve ever experienced. “You’re really intelligent, okay? Don’t let this one test define your worth,”
“I know I know but…” You involuntarily snuggle more into Rafe’s chest, your body seeking his warmth which is providing you utmost comfort at a moment which has you on the verge of breaking down, “I just, i really gave it my all…” Your voice is low, your words weak and your body almost slumping in Rafe’s arms. Rafe only tightens his grip around you – because he always wants to be there to catch you whenever you feel like you’re going to fall.
Gently, Rafe pulls your head back from his chest. He lets his hand cup the side of your face, his thumb delicately stroking the skin of your cheek. “And that’s all that matters,” He mumbles slowly, looking into your eyes. “You gave your best, and that really is what matters the most. I’m really proud of you, you worked so hard. Everything doesn’t always turn out the way we want it, but you get rewarded for your hard work, always,”
You sniffle quietly as you look up at Rafe, your red rimmed eyes almost making his heart ache. “Yeah?” You murmur, and feel Rafe catch a stray tear on your cheek, wiping it off.
Rafe gives you a small smile and a nod of his head. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I mean every word,”
Rafe’s thumb gently caresses over your cheek, slowly trailing over to your mouth. He lets the pad of his thumb slowly trace your lower lip, his gaze fixating on your lips and the slow, soothing repetitive motion of his thumb over your lip. He can feel your breathing coming in small puffs against his thumb, your lips just slightly parted.
The sharp ringing of the bell practically makes you two spring apart from each other, as if you both had completely forgotten where you actually were in the flow of the moment. Only a fraction of a second later, the chatter of students filters through the hallway and it’s now completely filled with students, completely in contrast to the deserted corridors mere moments ago.
“So, uh…” Rafe clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck as he does so – something you’ve seen he does often when he’s anxious, thinking of something, or in this case: when he’s nervous. “What class do you have next? I’ve uh… I have geography,”
“Uh I’ve got physics,” You mutter, your fingers twisting each other nervously behind your back.
“Okay so I’ll see you after class yeah?” He says, letting his hand fall to his side from behind his neck. “You, you take care yeah? Don’t think too much about the test, I’m sure you’ve done better than you think,”
“Uh huh,” You breathe, adjusting your bag on your shoulders.
An awkward silence falls over two as you remain stand-by among the hustle bustle of the students who brush past you, rushing to their lockers and eventually their classes. It’s almost like being in the center of the tornado, watching the chaos spin around you while you stay completely still.
Rafe chooses to break the silence, muttering a ‘bye’ to you and turning sharply on his heels, already making his way to his class. It takes a moment for you to get back to normal after everything you’ve experienced in the span of barely an hour, and you get going to your class too.
Well, you most certainly aren’t thinking way too much about that disaster of a test now, though.
⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹
ONE — THE GYM
The dribbles of the ball against the wooden court echo throughout the empty gym, accompanied with the squeaks of the shoes. Rafe takes a jump, letting his fingers let go of the ball as it follows its path and swooshes right through the net in the cleanest manner possible. The ball lands back on the ground and bounces up and down continuously, Rafe’s eyes fixed on it from his position as he watches the way the ball eventually comes to a full stop on the floor.
“Someone’s been working real hard, huh?”
Rafe turns around to see you walking inside the empty gym, your hands on your back and a small smile on your face as you approach the ball. He watches you silently pick the ball up and toss it to him, which he catches with a single hand.
“Yeah,” He says, standing still in his position, the orange ball now resting against his side under his arm. “We’ve got Regionals next week,”
You approach closer to him, a gentle smile on your face. “You’ll do great, trust me. You’re a great team captain,” Your voice is gentle and comforting.
“I try my best,” He murmurs, his expression softening as he watches you look at him in the most soothing way. It’s so hard for him to put into words the way your presence makes him feel, but he knows everything becomes slightly bearable when he remembers he’s got you.
You take a glance around the gym, the only people present in the large, empty space are you two. “You’ve been practicing alone?” You ask, your eyes finding his back again.
“Yeah,” He replies, “it’s relaxing, to take some time by myself to practice,”
“How long have you been here?” You ask, gently placing a hand on his arm.
“Since school ended,” he says softly, his body relaxing under your brief touch.
“It’s been two hours to that,” you murmur. “You’ve been here for quite some time now. You wanna take a break?”
Rafe looks around the gym once, as if contemplating taking a break or not. His eyes find yours, and the warmth and care in them makes him give in.
“Okay,” He gives you a soft smile and you both walk over to the bleachers and sit down. Rafe takes a moment to wipe the sweat off his face with his towel and drinking from his bottle before sitting down next to you.
“You nervous?” You say after a moment of silence. “About the regionals, I mean,”
Rafe shrugs, his gaze looking out at the huge basketball court in front of you two. “A bit, I guess,” He says. “Our team hasn’t gone to a Regionals in over 4 years now, so… there’s some pressure over me to lead the team to a win,”
You look over at him, a solemn expression on his face from his words. You don’t really know how much pressure being the team captain entails, but now, looking at him as he tells you about how much he’s got riding on him to lead the team to a winning position certainly gives you a small glimpse into how hard he has to work.
“Hey…” You say, your voice soft as you let your fingers curl around his bicep. That catches his attention and he turns to look at you. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, yeah? You’re doing great, trust me. I really do think your team can win,”
Rafe’s expression softens at your words as he gazes into your eyes. “You really think so?” He mumbles quietly.
“I know so,” You smile. “Your hard work will give you your results, you deserve it,”
His own lips upturn into a soft smile. Your words cause a wave of comfort to wash over him, the pressure of wanting to only be the best of the best from not only his coach and team, but from the entire school slowly easing it’s iron tight grip on his heart.
“You’re so… sweet,” He murmurs, placing a hand on top of yours which is still around his bicep.
Your smile slightly widens as you look in his eyes, watching him look at you with such fondness. Rafe gently takes your hand off his arm and brings it up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your hand.
“And so nice, and just…” He presses another kiss to your skin, “incredible.” He gently turns your hand over in his grip and presses a kiss to your palm, before giving it a soft tug and placing it on his cheek. You gently hold the side of his face, softly stroking his cheek with your thumb. He sighs softly, nuzzling his face into your palm, his eyes drooping slightly.
He keeps on looking at you, and gently reaches out to place both his hands on your waist, pulling you slightly closer to him. He doesn’t take his hands off, only tightens his grip on you. You let go of his cheek and place both your hands on his shoulders, your eye contact not breaking with him.
Your gaze flickers down to his lips, and it fixes on there. You can feel yourself beginning to lean closer to him, as if seeking him and his warmth out. Rafe makes no move to pull back, his blunt fingers slightly digging into your waist.
You can feel his warm breath on your parted lips, your eyes almost fully shut.
Rafe takes the leap, pressing his lips to yours. Your eyes fall shut completely the moment his lips seek yours in a warm press, every nerve ending of your body on fire from the closure between you two.
Rafe slowly moves lips against yours in an unrushed manner, letting him and you feel every emotion you both now commonly share. You just know his heart is beating just as fast as yours, his mind is as blank as yours, and his body is on fire just like yours.
Rafe slowly pulls back after a moment, letting his forehead rest against yours. Your breath comes out in short puffs against his lips, your eyes still closed as if opening them will make you snap out of the most beautiful dream you can ever dream of.
“Finally,” Rafe mutters quietly, causing your lips to break out in a smile.
“Yeah,” you murmur, “finally.”
You lean forward to kiss him again, and Rafe’s heart explodes once again at your sweetness and warmth.
Finally.
⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹
taglist: @oxpogues4lifexo / @drewstarkeys-world / @inthelibrarybtw / @mileyraes / @chenslucy
specific tags for this fic: @ilyrafe / @zyafics
tagging some moots: @runningfrom2am / @totalswag / @ladyinbl00d / @b1mb0slvt / @nemesyaaa
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron oneshot#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron imagine#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#rafe x reader#rafe cameron concepts#rafe imagine#drew starkey#𓂃𓏲 ⋆˙ ₊˚⊹ scholar!reader ꒷ ᵎᵎ#𓂃𓏲 ⋆˙ ₊˚⊹ edith daydreams about rafe cameron ꒷ ᵎᵎ#𓂃𓏲 ⋆˙ ₊˚⊹ written by edith ꒷ ᵎᵎ#𓂃𓏲 ⋆˙ ₊˚⊹ edith writes rafe cameron ꒷ ᵎᵎ#𓂃𓏲 ⋆˙ ₊˚⊹ divider creds: plutism ꒷ ᵎᵎ
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tom riddle x wife!reader who is the only one he is submissive in front of
The room was dimly lit, the soft crackling of the fireplace the only sound as you lounged on the chaise, thumbing through a book. Your peaceful evening was disrupted by the unmistakable creak of the front door. You didn’t even need to look up to know who it was.
"Darling, I'm home," Tom called, his voice ever so smooth, but you could sense the slightest tension beneath the calm facade.
"Mm, about time," you replied nonchalantly, flipping a page. "Did you—" You stopped mid-sentence as a rather peculiar scent hit your nose. You furrowed your brows, finally lifting your eyes from the book.
And there it was. Right in the middle of the parlor. A dead body.
"...Is that a dead body?"
Tom, still in his pristine suit, looked down at the lifeless figure as if he hadn't noticed it before. He blinked, then, without missing a beat, turned back to you with an innocent expression. "....Maybe."
You raised an eyebrow, setting your book down. "It is. I can see it right in front of me."
Tom ran a hand through his slicked-back hair, his typical composed demeanor faltering for a split second before he put on his best innocent expression. "I promise I'll clean it up before dinner."
You stood, crossing the room toward him, arms folded. "Really, Tom? We’ve talked about this. You have to stop bringing your work home. I swear, if I find one more corpse in our living room—"
"But he annoyed me!" Tom cut in, sounding almost...defensive? He cleared his throat, as though realizing how ridiculous it was to argue this with you. Lord Voldemort, the most feared wizard in the world, trying to justify his actions to his bossy wife. Merlin, what had he become?
You rolled your eyes. "What happened to a simple Obliviate? You didn’t have to murder him."
"I tried! He resisted—"
"Oh, so naturally you had to Avada Kedavra him. Great logic."
Tom shifted under your stern gaze, and you could almost see the way his mind was racing to explain himself. Yet, the way he followed your every move, the almost sheepish way he avoided your eyes when you got close, said everything. You were the one person who could make him bend. The only one who could command him without uttering a single spell.
“Fine,” he muttered, avoiding eye contact. “I’ll…handle it.”
You sighed, shaking your head. “You better. And don’t let it stink up the house, Tom. I want everything spotless before dinner.”
“Yes, ma'am,” he replied, his voice dropping to a tone so soft, you’d never guess he was capable of mass murder. He snapped his fingers, and the body disappeared in an instant.
"Good." You placed a hand on his chest, leaning up to plant a small kiss on his cheek. "Now, was that so hard?"
Tom’s lips twitched as if fighting a smile. He’d never admit it, but he lived for moments like this, where your mere presence made him feel… less like the Dark Lord and more like your husband. “You really are impossible sometimes.”
You gave him a smirk, your hand trailing down his chest. “And yet, here you are— cleaning up your messes like a good husband.”
He huffed softly, pulling you closer. “Only for you.”
“You better. Now,” you said, glancing around the room. “I’m going to finish my book. And if there’s one bloodstain left on that floor—”
Tom sighed, pressing his forehead against yours, a resigned smile finally breaking through his facade. "Yes, dear."
#tom riddle x reader#tom riddle fluff#tom riddle#husband!tom riddle#wife!reader#x wife!reader#ivy's soft scribbles ೀ
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episode one: the hellfire club
Robin waves her hands in the air as if to get Steve’s voice away from her. “Ew! Gross, don’t say boobies–” “Boobies! It’s not a big deal–” You make a face. “It isn’t the most pleasant word.” “Oh, c’mon. You like boobies, Robin likes boobies, and we all know I love your boobies specifically–ow!” You hit the back of Steve’s head with annoyance to get him to stop talking about your boobs. While he winces in pain and rubs his tender head, you turn towards Robin. “What my darling boyfriend is trying to say is that everyone likes boobs, and Vickie definitely likes them too.”
Summary: el writes to you as if youre her husband away at war, you debate the intricate nature of liking boobies with robin and steve, lucas is your beloved while eddie munson is your sworn enemy, steve accidentally exposes your (horribly hidden) daddy issues, dustin is an angsty teen, and jonathan really loves to drop emotional bombshells on you. can you believe this all happens in one day ? lol cheers to senior year !
Rating: general, some swearing
Warnings: swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n, mentions of abuse, allusions to bullying, trauma lol
Words: 13.5k (wrote half of this in one day)
Before you swing in: SHES HERE !!!! SEASON 4 !!! this season terrifies me. i spent so much time outlining and making sure it was perfect. i have some changes i want to do, some ideas, and its scary because we dont have season 5 yet and i hate messing with canon ,,, alas: here she is. my baby. my beloved. quick fun fact: theres a scene in here ive had planned since season 1 so .... enjoy !
–
March 21st, 1986.
Dear Y/N,
Congratulations on New York University! Joyce tells me that it is a very good college, and everyone was extremely happy when Jonathan told us the news. He even had a smile on his face! It has been a very long time since I have seen him smile, especially without that weird smell on him (am I allowed to tell you about the strange plants that Jonathan seems to like now? He says that you cannot find out about it, but friends don’t lie and he is your bestest friend).
I asked Will about it, and he says that Jonathan now smells because he misses you. If you ask me, I think that Jonathan smells because he is scared. We are still waiting for his college letter, afterall. I know you want to go to school with him, but so does Nancy. Is it possible to go to two colleges? Anyways, it must be a lot of pressure, even more with all the waiting we have to do, but Joyce told us that sometimes colleges take a long time to respond.
While I am positive that Jonathan will figure it all out soon, he pretends he does not care. But he is a very bad liar. He was very upset that Nancy could no longer visit us in California. Will was bummed too, but he was more sad that it was not you who was visiting. Joyce says that the Byers boys were born to miss you, and I think she is right.
I also miss you. I am still bummed I never went to school with you. I bet Mike is over the moon to have you with him for high school, Dustin and Lucas also. How is Max? Is she still sad? I know school has been hard for her. I will admit that it is hard for me, too. While I am good at maths, and my grammar is getting better, I am still unsure when to use conjunctions or why Angela does not like me. Will tells me to ignore her, but I want to be her friend. She is nice to everyone else. It confuses me that she is not nice to me.
A lot about California confuses me. The flowers here are different, and sometimes I forget that I cannot go and visit you. I miss the smell of Bookstrordinary (did I spell it right?) and your cookies. Please send more as soon as you can. Will and I are almost dying to taste them again! Mike says he will try to bring some on the plane, but I am scared he will be told no by those scary airplane people.
Speaking of Mike, he is coming to California this week! I am very excited to see him. It has felt like years, I think I am even going crazy. I have planned everything for his week here. Spring break will be extra special! It will be a fun distraction from Angela and school. This week I can pretend to be someone else, someone cool, and Mike will be very impressed. I know you tell me to always be myself, so I hope that I can make you happy by taking your advice on focusing only on the good.
To prove I will focus on the good from here on out, here is a good things list:
Mike is visiting!
Will has almost finished his painting. I am very curious to see what he has made. He is really talented, he shows me the drawings he sends you sometimes.
You got into NYU! Is this the correct way to abbreviate? I am still working on conjunctions, but I think I am supposed to use the first letter of every word in the school’s name to shorten it. At least, that is what Joyce says.
Jonathan’s new best friend, Argyle, will give us free pizza to celebrate Mike’s arrival. It is really good pizza.
Tasting your cookies again. Fingers crossed Mike’s plan succeeds!
I am sure there is more, but I am too excited about this week and my mind is going very fast. I miss you tons, maybe even more than Will and Jonathan do. Please come visit us soon. Like Joyce says, the Byers boys were born to miss you. Although I am not a Byers boy, I am still a part of the Byers family, and I miss you.
Love, El.
P.S., thank you for the grammar books. I will be sure to become the best writer ever in California.
–
Sweet, gentle, El. You can almost hear her voice, reading aloud to you as you used to do when she lived in Hopper’s cabin. She would stumble over the letters, ask you how to sound out particularly difficult words in Spider-Man comics; they helped her learn how to read. Now, almost a year later, she’s writing you letters.
El has grown up so much within such a short few months, although it doesn’t surprise you.
Laughing softly as you reread the final line she’s written, you wipe your eyes and place El’s letter onto your desk. The piece of paper joins the others, nestled gently with a pile of her other letters that are housed on your desk. El sends you a new letter every week, detailing silly stories about Jonathan and Will or concerned ramblings about Angela.
The letters make you miss El terribly. They make you miss everyone terribly.
Next to the letters are drawings from Will. He’s become such an artist during his time in California. He sends you beautiful sketches of landscapes in their neighborhood, doodles from class, and incredibly detailed drawings of you and the party. The drawings are Will’s special way to keep in contact with you, and it’s something you cherish so deeply. However, you didn’t know that he was working on a painting, and you’re curious to see what El is talking about. Eventually he’ll reveal his art to you, he always does.
Skimming a finger over one of the more recent drawings from Will, your hand catches on the walkman that lays next to it. Jonathan’s messy handwriting is scrawled on the mixtape that sits within it.
For bug.
The words, familiar and loved, stare back at you. The mixtape contains songs that Jonathan so carefully chose for you. He spent countless hours selecting songs that he knew you’d love, songs that reminded him of you. It had been his gift for you before he moved away. And now he’s gone, and you miss him so much more than you ever thought you would. More than you ever thought you could miss anyone.
Jonathan never did end up coming to Hawkins for spring break.
“Dusty, what’s going on in there?” The sound of your mother pounding on Dustin’s door breaks you from your thoughts. “You’re gonna be late.”
“Don’t come in, I’m naked!” You hear the boy screech back at her, which you roll your eyes at. Steve will be here to pick you guys up any minute. Dustin knows he should be ready by now, the schedule has never changed.
Throwing on the cardigan Steve got you for Christmas last year, you grab your walkman and storm over to Dustin’s room. At the same time, your mother nearly crashes into you in the hall. Her face is pale, horrified of the idea that she almost saw her son naked, and you pity the woman. Dustin has become relentless lately, even more difficult to deal with.
“Y/N, my dear,” your mother clutches at her chest and fans her face. “Can you please make sure your brother is ready? I think that boy is trying to give me a heart attack.”
You sigh, figuring you would have to do so anyways. “Yeah, sure. Go finish getting ready, I’ll handle him.”
“This is why you’re my favorite daughter!” Your mother kisses your cheek before running off towards the kitchen to make her morning coffee.
Once she’s gone, you immediately start banging on Dustin’s door. He knows you hate being late. Plus, it’s the Friday before spring break. You’re getting antsy waiting for this week to end. “Dustin Henderson, you have three seconds before I kick this door down.”
“Not now, Y/N!” Dustin shouts back, frantic and desperate.
You narrow your eyes. He’s using his suspicious voice, the one he only uses when he’s doing something he absolutely shouldn’t be doing. Glancing down at your watch and noting the early hour, you curse in disbelief. “It’s not even seven yet, what the hell are you up to so early in the morning?”
“Nothing! Just go away, I’ll be out soon–”
“I swear, if you’re trying to sell my limited edition comics again I will hurt you.” You throw your body against the door, causing it to fly open as you stumble inside. Dustin is at his computer and he nearly falls off his chair in his haste to cover the screen from you. He’s remarkably horrible at playing cool. You’re about to tell him this when Suzie’s voice crackles through his radio’s speakers.
“Yikes, Dusty.”
“Suzie?” You walk over to your brother and shove his hands off the computer screen. He falls to the ground with a loud thud, which pleases you. He may be a teenager now, but you’re still stronger than him. At least for now. “Why are you calling her right now–” Your eyes land on the screen and you recognize Hawkins High’s familiar orange and green school colors. “Is this the student gradebook?”
“No!” Dustin exclaims, but Suzie’s small and soft voice responds, “Yes.”
“Oh my God,” you cannot believe he’s making his girlfriend hack into your school’s database. Sure, she’s a genius, but you also know she’s incredibly religious. “Dustin, this is so illegal and goes against, like, all of Suzie’s religious morals–”
“I will repent later.” Suzie interrupts you, and you raise your eyebrows at what she’s just said. Before you can question her, Dustin’s computer refreshes.
He leans forward, eyes scanning to see if they’ve succeeded, and he seems to like what he sees. Suddenly Dustin lets out a sudden whoop and fist bumps the air. “God, I love you Suzie.”
Curious, you lean over and read the screen as well. There, where you know Dustin had a D- in Latin not even a day ago, is now an A. There’s no possible way he was able to raise his grade in under twenty-four hours. He sucks at Latin, he hates it, which means… She did it. Suzie changed his grade. All she had to do was press one single button to save Dustin’s GPA.
You have to admit, it’s impressive. And shamefully genius.
“Hey, Suzie.” You bring the radio to your lips, shoving Dustin away when he tries to take it from you. “Do you think you could change my grade in calculus? Jonathan was the only reason I passed any of my other math classes.”
“Oh, I don’t know…” Suzie’s voice raises a pitch, she doesn’t want to tell you no. She likes you, she really does, but her God figurine stares down at her with a disappointed look in his eyes. She’s sinned for love, but she doesn’t think she could ever do it again.
You’re about to plead with Suzie, tell her NYU really prioritizes their student’s grades, but the sound of a car honking outside catches your attention; it’s Steve. Dustin yanks the radio from your hand and shoos you away. “Go, leave without me.”
“What, why? We always drive together.” You frown, feeling like a little kid when you cross your arms. Dustin smiles apologetically, a smile you’ve become familiar with. Your mood darkens, anger rises to your cheeks. You know exactly why Dustin is now skipping out on you. “Don’t tell me it’s that stupid Eddie Munson–”
“He wants me and Mike to work out some campaign details before lunch today!” Dustin scrambles to mediate. He hates that you don’t like Eddie, and you like everyone. It’s unnerving how much disdain you seem to carry for his friend. “Nance is driving us, but I swear I’ll ride with you and Steve after break!”
You scoff at Dustin, not at all believing his promise to you. Ever since September your brother has been at Eddie Muson’s beck-and-call, who dictates everything Dustin says or does. At first it was innocent enough, choosing to sit with the guy instead of you at lunch. Skipping out on a few weekend plans with you and Steve to campaign with Eddie. You’d been happy for Dustin. He was making new friends, no longer your little shadow; he was his own person with his own priorities and interests now.
But ever since getting into NYU last week, Dustin has been pulling away even more from you. You don’t know why, but he’s become even more obsessed with Eddie and his stupid Hellfire club.
Eddie Munson is the air your brother now breathes, stifling the air Dustin once breathed for you.
And it seems to only be suffocating you, not him.
“Yeah, whatever.” Halfheartedly you ruffle Dustin’s hair, and he leans into the touch. You don’t want him to know his repeated absences are upsetting you. Deep down, you know you’re being irrational. You’re almost eighteen, soon you won’t even be living under the same roof as Dustin. He’s allowed to live his own life. “I guess I’ll see you at the pep rally. Tell Suzie I said bye, please?”
Dustin nods, though you don’t linger in the doorway like you desperately want to. Instead, you shut the door behind you and place a swift kiss to your mother’s cheek as you leave.
Steve’s car is parked in its usual spot at the end of the driveway. The teen’s arm hangs out the window and his face breaks into a smile when he sees you approaching. Steve’s smile is infectious, it’s always charmed you, and it settles the ache in your chest from your brother’s earlier dismissal. Feeling a smile spread across your own face, you run towards Steve and poke your head through the open window.
“Hi,” you breathe out, nose almost bumping against his cheek.
“Hi, angel.” Steve kisses you, solidifying your morning tradition. Neither one of you really remembers who started it, but sometime during the school year you began to slip your head through Steve’s car window so that he could kiss you slow and sweet.
And, as tradition follows, Robin starts boos. “Do you have to do that every morning?”
Steve makes a face at her and she punches his arm. He yelps in pain and you roll your eyes at the two of them before running over to the passenger’s side where Robin sits. Her window is rolled down as well and you duck your head inside. “Aw, Robin. If you wanted a kiss, you could’ve just said so!”
“A kiss–?” Your lips press against Robin’s cheek, smushing against her face while making a dramatic sound. She squeals and pushes you away, wiping her now wet cheek in disgust. “That is not what I wanted.”
You giggle at her and finally get into the car. It’s getting late, you see the assortment of Robin’s limited makeup dumped into her lap haphazardly. She’s been stressing about this morning’s pep rally all week, and clearly she isn’t coping very well. Trying to cheer her up, you flick her shoulder. “I’ll have you know that my cheek kisses are cherished in Hawkins.”
“How many people’s cheeks are you kissing?” Steve turns in his seat to face you, slightly alarmed. Then, noticing that there’s only one Henderson in his car, he frowns. “And where’s little Henderson?”
“Eddie Munson.”
“Woah, wait, you mean Eddie as in where Dustin is, right? Not, like, you’ve been kissing his cheek? I’m right, right? Please tell me I’m right.”
You roll your eyes fondly at Steve while Robin rolls hers in displeasure. “Just drive, Steve.”
–
It becomes pretty apparent five minutes into the car ride that no one seems to be having a good morning. Robin has spent the majority of the drive applying and reapplying her mascara while messing with her hair. She groans every time she looks in the mirror and her eyes lack their usual brilliance.
Meanwhile, Steve has been complaining about yet another fight with his dad. Apparently they argued during breakfast, something that has become a common occurrence in the Harrington household.
“The asshole again reminded me that I’m turning twenty soon. As if I don’t already know that! I mean,” Steve laughs in exasperation. “For weeks now he’s been asking me what my plans are, as if working at Family Video just isn’t good enough for him. As if my dad isn’t the sole reason I had to get a lousy minimum wage job in the first place!”
“Family Video isn’t a lousy job–”
“Yes it is.” Both Steve and Robin say at the same time, which you sigh at. Can’t really argue with that.
“Okay, yeah. It’s pretty lousy.”
Steve rubs his eyes tiredly. “And that isn’t even the worst part. There I was, pouring syrup over my pancakes, trying to enjoy the fact that my parents are actually home for once, when my asshole of a father tells me that if I don’t have a respectable job by the time I’m twenty, he’ll kick me out. I mean, can you believe that?”
You suck in a breath. “Steve…”
Richard Harrington is a cruel, awful man.
While you understand his frustrations towards Steve, it’s completely unreasonable to expect him to get a reputable job in a few short months without any college education. Steve’s right, it had been Richard’s idea to make him work at Scoops Ahoy in the first place. When the mall burned down, he had no other option but to work at Family Video soon after.
“I’m sorry, honey.” You intertwine your fingers through Steve’s hair and rub your thumb up and down the nape of his neck in a soothing manner. Steve allows the touch, but he’s still tense. Guessing that he’s uncomfortable feeling so pitied, you try to make light of the situation with humor. “But hey, who knows? Maybe you can come live with me in New York if he ends up kicking you out.”
Steve risks a look at you, taking his eyes off the road for a few moments, and his eyes shine. He’s ecstatic over what you’ve just said. He looks like a little kid on Christmas Eve. “You really mean that?”
“Well, I mean…” It had mostly been a joke, a throwaway comment to try and get him to smile. But Steve’s body finally relaxes under your touch and you can’t tell him no. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
“You hear that, Robin?” Steve preens, wanting to get her attention. However, when he realizes that she hasn’t been listening to the entire conversation, he makes an offended sound. “Robin, are you listening to me?”
“Uh, yes?” Her eyes meet yours in the mirror, startled that she’s been caught. “You were-uh. Talking to Y/N about your dad. We-we hate him! Yeah, we hate the guy. He really… grinds my gears?”
Steve groans. “We all hate my dad, but that wasn’t what I was talking to you about!”
“Cut me some slack, please. Your relationship with your father is one of labyrinthine complexity–”
You poke your head between the two teens. “Actually, it’s not that complicated.”
Robin covers your mouth with her hand and continues with her rant. “It’s seven in the morning, we have the stupid pep rally, and I woke up looking like a total corpse!”
“I think you look lovely as always, Robin.” You mumble through the girl’s hand, barely coherent.
Steve, however, isn’t as supportive. “You’re worried about a pep rally? You really expect me to believe that?”
“Yeah, so?” Robin removes her hand from your mouth and goes back to doing her makeup. She’s avoiding the conversation now, which only means that Steve is onto something. Why has she been so obsessed about this week’s pep rally? Robin has been in band for years now, she’s done a million pep rallies during her high school career. It can’t be performing that makes her nervous.
Which means it has to be about someone.
Locking eyes with Steve, he seems to be thinking what you are. “I think we all know what this is about, okay? Y/N and I aren’t buying that bullshit.”
“This is about Vickie.” You finish for him, a smirk on your face. For weeks now Vickie has been all Robin has talked about. Her hair, how pretty her smile is, how cute her freckles are. Vickie also happens to be in band with Robin. “C’mon, you can’t tell us we’re wrong.”
“I absolutely can tell you you’re wrong.” Robin denies what you and Steve are implying.
Steve shakes his head. “You know we’re right! And you know what else we think?”
“I really don’t care–”
“Y/N and I think that you gotta stop pretending to be someone else when you’re around her, okay? You just gotta be yourself.”
Robin doesn’t want to hear any of this. At least not from you and Steve. “You guys are biased, you do realize that?”
“What do you mean?” You’re practically laying across Steve’s car console in order to be a part of the conversation. “I think we’re objective people.”
“You’re telling me that all I have to do is be myself and Vickie will want to date me?”
You frown. “Yeah? What’s wrong with that?”
Robin throws her head back. “Because it took Steve months to ask you out. Mind you, this was when you were already in love with the guy! And he knew you were in love with him!”
“Okay, hey–” Steve doesn’t at all like what she’s insinuating. He didn’t necessarily know you were already in love with him, he just… had a small hunch.
“I’m not done,” Robin holds her hand up. “All Steve had to do was man up and admit his feelings for you. He didn’t have to agonize over whether or not it’d blow up in his face. There was no risk, no danger, no world ending consequences. I mean, if you had rejected him then maybe Steve’s ego would’ve been bruised. But if I ask out the wrong girl? Bam! I’m a town pariah.”
“This is true,” you reluctantly agree. While you could never envision a world where you’d ever say no to Steve, you also recognize that the world where you somehow do wouldn’t be the same world as Robin’s. Things are different for her, whether you like it or not. Robin has to live with this knowledge, and her conversation with you about luck and love from last summer echoes in your mind.
Steve places a hand on his chest, betrayed. “Whose side are you on, Y/N?”
“True love’s side.”
Robin snorts and Steve doesn’t bother to hide his smile. He wants to tease you for being a hopeless romantic, but now isn’t the time. Instead, he continues the previous conversation. “True love aside, we can’t ignore that Vickie is definitely not the wrong girl.”
“Oh, she definitely isn’t straight.” You agree.
“We don’t know that!” Robin quickly sprays some breath freshener in her mouth and gags, which you cringe at. Vickie is one lucky girl if Robin ever manages to become her girlfriend.
Steve doesn’t let up, he’s convinced he has it all figured out. “She returned Fast Times paused at fifty-three minutes, five seconds.”
“The bikini scene, mind you.” You butt in, and Steve nods eagerly.
“And you know who pauses Fast Times at fifty-three minutes, five seconds? People who like boobies, Robin!”
Robin waves her hands in the air as if to get Steve’s voice away from her. “Ew! Gross, don’t say boobies–”
“Boobies! It’s not a big deal–”
You make a face. “It isn’t the most pleasant word.”
“Oh, c’mon. You like boobies, Robin likes boobies, and we all know I love your boobies specifically–ow!”
You hit the back of Steve’s head with annoyance to get him to stop talking about your boobs. While he winces in pain and rubs his tender head, you turn towards Robin. “What my darling boyfriend is trying to say is that everyone likes boobs, and Vickie definitely likes them too.”
Robin can’t even look at the two of you, appalled by how many times the word “boobies” has been uttered during the duration of the conversation. You can’t blame her, the word has practically lost all meaning for you as well.
Steve, however, can’t seem to get enough of it. “It’s boobies!” He exclaims again to no one in particular.
You and Robin lock eyes, and then, without saying anything, your hand covers Steve’s mouth while Robin flicks his forehead, effectively putting the boob conversation to an end.
–
The moment Steve’s BMW slows in front of the school, Robin throws the door open and rushes out with a quick “see you later!” to you as she runs to follow after her bandmates. Steve waves weakly as she goes and sighs in disappointment.
“She’s never talking to Vickie, is she?”
“Not a chance,” you sigh as well, watching as Robin’s figure disappears in the crowd of students. Spring break looms over the student body, everyone buzzes with excitement over their week of freedom and tonight’s basketball game. The pep rally in just a few short minutes only adds to the exhilaration. Leaning forward, your lips graze against Steve’s. “Anyways, see you tonight?”
He bridges the gap between your lips, skin meets skin and warmth floods your stomach. “Of course, angel. I love you.”
“I love you, too, honey.” And with one last kiss, you exit Steve’s car and make your way towards the school. As always, Steve waits until you’re safely on the sidewalk before he pulls away and heads towards Family Video. He’s started picking up morning shifts to fill the time he isn’t with you.
On your way inside, you see Ms. Kelly talking to Max near the buses. The conversation is short, doesn’t last much longer than a few seconds, and when Max turns away you notice Ms. Kelly’s patient smile drop. Clearly Max still isn’t being cooperative when it comes to their sessions. She promised you she would start trying, but Max Mayfield has always been stubborn and you’ve always been slightly overbearing.
Not the best combination, honestly.
With a sigh, you make a mental note to ask Max about what the counselor talked to her about later. There’s too much going on this morning to focus on it, and you’re already pushing Max by having her attend the pep rally anyways. Originally she had wanted to skip it and hide in the stairwell, but after begging her about it, Max finally agreed.
The conversation can wait. For now, at least she’ll be next to you in the bleachers alongside the boys to cheer on Lucas.
The thought was enough to brighten your mood a little, but it quickly became a pain in the ass to corral the party into sitting together. It took you almost fifteen minutes to find Mike and Dustin in the mass of students heading into the gym. You’re not necessarily sure how it took so goddamn long given the fact that Mike towers over half of the students anyways. He’s grown freakishly tall since starting freshman year. It unnerves you.
While his towering height annoys you, Mike likes that he can finally, literally, look down on you.
“There you guys are!” You grab the back of Mike’s shirt and he lets out a startled yelp. Dustin stumbles back as well, and an annoyed sophomore glares at the three of you. Ignoring her, you grab your brother’s shirt and start dragging the two boys towards the bleachers. “Thought we agreed on meeting at the water fountain that squirts water in your face?”
“I thought it was the library?” Dustin gives you an odd look. “Wait, is there even a water fountain in the library?”
“You amaze me.” You remark, not even bothering to answer his question. He listens like a bag of rocks. Mike just allows you to pull him, not at all contributing to the conversation.
Max waits for you in the bleachers. She’s saved you seats, something that you feel slight relief over. The simple gesture is small, but it sparks just enough hope within your chest to make you exhale softly. Hope that she’s getting better. Hope that she’s finally trying again.
Thanking Max, you and the others fill the seats as the gym quickly fills with more and more students until it threatens to overflow. The roar of the crowd is nearly deafening. Across from the bleachers resides the marching band. They’re playing the school’s anthem as the cheerleaders start their routine. Chrissy Cunningham leads them, her smile lovely and beautiful, she shines so brightly upon the crowd that you can’t help but fall in love with her.
In the midst of the cheerleaders’ twists and flips, Robin manages to catch your eye from across the room.
You eagerly wave at her and mime playing the trumpet, copying her movements as she actually plays one. Robin laughs, and next to her is a girl with fiery red hair who laughs as well. She’s pretty, you’ve heard countless sonnets about her red hair and dotted freckles. Knowing the girl is Vickie, you point at her as you wink at Robin, who scoffs and goes back to playing the trumpet.
Next to you, you catch the tail end of some bizarre conversation between Mike and Dustin.
“Look, I’m not saying that my girlfriend is better than yours.” Dustin is clarifying, glaring at you when he hears your sarcastic snort. “It’s just that Suzie’s, like, a certified genius.”
Mike crosses his arms, looking towards you as if somehow this is all your fault. “Your brother realizes that El saved the world twice, right?”
“Admittedly that is hard to beat,” you shrug. “That, and she has cool powers.”
Dustin points a finger at the two of you. “And yet Mike still has a C in Spanish while you’re barely passing calculus.”
Mike rolls his eyes and you shrug again. Your brother isn’t necessarily wrong either. El’s saved the world, Suzie has saved his GPA. Both are nearly impossible feats. “Touchy subject, but touché.”
“And what can your boyfriend do, Y/N?” Mike asks, now bringing the attention to your love life.
“He’s good with a bat.”
Both Dustin and Mike groan, but you shush them when the school’s broadcaster announces the Tigers basketball team. Applause breaks out across the bleachers and you notice Max looking around for Lucas. Though she tries to hide it, you can see the interest and excitement in her eyes. She’s happy for him, but it breaks your heart that she feels that she can’t show it.
Jason Carver, captain of the basketball team and former Scoops Ahoy patron before Steve spilled ice cream all over his pants, runs out first. The crowd goes wild, but you don’t start cheering until you see Lucas. He’s smiling wide, proud to be a part of the team. You scream as loud as you can for him, he’s come so far since confessing to you about wanting to join the team earlier this year. As Jason starts his speech, dramatic as he always is, Lucas sees you in the bleachers and waves shyly, a blush creeping across his face. Then, seeing Max next to you, his confidence seems to grow as he waves more enthusiastically at her.
The moment is sweet, it makes you smile.
Except Max doesn’t wave back. She crosses her arms, pretends she hasn’t seen him, and your smile drops alongside Lucas’.
You know they’ve been having some trouble recently. With Max pulling away more and more each day, Lucas struggled to hold onto the fading girl. Despite his pleas and reassurances, Max still seems to be icing him out. According to Dustin, they broke up almost a month ago now.
But they’ve always had a tumultuous relationship, long before nightmares and monsters darkened everything. The news hadn’t worried you at first, you thought it was simply another one of their weekly breakups over something small, innocent. Afterall, they were just kids when they first started dating. Their breakups were always childish, though endearing, and always temporary.
Now, you’re scared that this time it’s permanent.
You’re not sure what that means for Max. She already has so few people left in her life to tether her. Billy died, her mother works two jobs and is never home anymore, El is in California, and you and Lucas are breaking skin trying to claw onto whatever small hold you have left of the girl.
Another loud cheer from the crowd breaks you from your thoughts. Jason must’ve just said something important, something worthy enough of a roaring reaction. He’s always been popular in Hawkins, Steve used to complain about him to you back when he was still on the team. But when Steve graduated and Billy died, Hawkins High had needed a new King to crown.
Jason Carver was more than happy to ascend the throne.
“Chrissy, I love you, babe.” Everyone awes and you see Chrissy blow Jason a kiss. It’s sweet, you suppose. They fit together nicely, head cheerleader with the star of the basketball team, and they seem genuinely happy. Chrissy’s shy and kind demeanor balances Jason’s loud and charismatic boldness. They truly are a good match.
“I think I can speak for all of us when I say it’s been a tough year for Hawkins.” Jason continues his speech, the room is eerily silent as everyone listens with baited breath. “So much loss…” The gym almost exhales simultaneously, remembering all the people who died last summer.
Your own breath exhales, and beside you Max tenses. Billy’s ghost floats through your minds, in through hers and out through yours. Hopper’s own ghost follows after him, only he doesn’t haunt Max the way he haunts you. He lingers over you, his final words to you engraved into your skin.
You’re the best of them.
“And sometimes I wonder, how much loss can one community take?”
Enough to fill a mall of burning bodies, you think bitterly.
Jason paces the gym’s floor now, he almost seems to glow before the crowd. He rambles on about needing something to believe in. That everyone should be doing something to honor all the lives lost in July, that playing basketball can absolve all the despair. As if it can bring them back.
Deep below your ribcage, nestled right underneath your scar and just in front of your stomach, rests a pit of anger that always simmers. You were born with it, it has always followed you. It has grown with you, the anger almost possessed your body when your dad left. Now, hearing Jason recite all the names of the ones who died that Fourth of July, the anger’s low simmer heats into a soft boil.
You try to quell it. Jason means well, he’s only trying to uplift the community in a passionate, albeit uncomfortably pastor-y way. He’s only doing what he knows best; he’s being a leader. In another life, one where Demogorgons never harmed you, you think you would’ve really admired Jason and his resilience.
“Think of Billy,” Your breath stills, yet your hand instinctively finds Max’s. She turns away from you, but the room is spinning and you can’t remember how to inhale. But Jason keeps going. “Think about our heroic police chief, Jim Hopper.”
Next to you, in your haze of grief and panic, you think you can feel Mike and Dustin shift uncomfortably. Grief sinks her claws into the kids, and you want nothing more than to puncture Jason’s lungs with them.
This was supposed to be a pep rally for the Tigers, it was supposed to be joyous, an opportunity to bring Max out of her shell. To distract her from the hell that she calls her life. The entire school knows what happened to Billy, they know that he had a little sister named Max Mayfield.
You hate Jason Carver.
But you’re here for Lucas. Today is about him. He’s finally happy, he’s smiling again. The least you can do is swallow down the anger and grief and hope that you don’t end up choking on them later. That they don’t strangle you in your dreams.
“And now tonight, we’re gonna bring home the championship trophy!” Jason screams into the mic, erupting a volcanic roar from the stadium. People throw paper into the air, whistling and jumping up and down at the prospect of Hawkins High finally winning a championship.
“Tonight?” Dustin’s agonized exclamation causes you to jump. He looks at you, bewildered and panicked. “How is that possible?”
Your heart still hasn’t steadied from the surge of fury Jason evoked. Swallowing once again, you clear your throat and shake your head at your brother. “What, you guys didn’t know about the game tonight?”
“They call it a tournament,” Max explains for you, figuring you need some time to clear your head. You squeeze her hand appreciatively. “You win one game, you go on until there’s only one team left.”
Mike and Dustin exchange frightened looks, and you eye them suspiciously. “Did you guys really not know? I thought Steve explained all of this to you already. Why is it such a big deal, anyways? I mean–wait,” the boys won’t meet your gaze. They avoid facing you, Mike stuffs his hands into his pockets and Dustin pretends to read someone’s poster.
You know the fearful look on their faces. It’s the same look Dustin gave you this morning when he ditched you to ride with Nancy and Mike.
Goddamn Eddie Munson.
“Oh, don’t you guys dare.” They wouldn’t. They wouldn’t fucking dream of missing one of Lucas’ games for a stupid club centered around some guy with enormous ego problems. “I swear to God, if you two skip the game tonight–”
“We won’t! I-I mean… Well. It’s, uh. It’s complicated” Dustin gulps, elbowing his way through the crowd of departing students as the pep rally ends. Mike follows, ready to step in at any moment, while Max slips away before you can stop her. Seeing how contorted your body is from anger, Dustin tries to appease you. “Look, I can’t promise anything, alright? Eddie is… Eddie.”
You’re about to scream some very choice words about that curly haired emo asshole, but Lucas intercepts the group and joins you guys. He looks between you, Mike, and Dustin, sensing some underlying tension. “What about Eddie?”
Mike quickly explains, and the more he talks, the more you want to shove your knives down Eddie’s throat. It’s one night, one goddamn night, and here Mike and Dustin are, almost shitting their pants at the idea of missing one Hellfire meeting to support their friend. While it’s unfortunate that all of this is happening on the same night, and though you recognize how long a campaign can take and how much the game means to the party, for once you can’t bring yourself to understand Dustin’s side.
A championship game versus one single campaign meeting that can easily be done tomorrow instead.
Seems like a pretty easy decision to you.
Lucas doesn’t understand why Mike and Dustin are so conflicted either. “I don’t get the big deal.” You’re all outside now, heading towards the main building for your classes. “Just talk to Eddie. Get him to move Hellfire to another night.”
You nod, agreeing with him, and Dustin rolls his eyes. “‘Just talk to Eddie.’”
“You can’t be serious right now,” your shoulder brushes harshly against the boy’s. You’re barely containing your anger right now. “Why does Eddie have such a strong hold over you guys? Hasn’t he repeated senior year twice now?”
“Why does that matter?” Mike looks at you as if you’re the scum of the earth that he just so happened to step on. “Why can’t Lucas just talk to his coach and get him to move the game?”
Dustin quips that he thinks Mike’s idea is a great one, but you shove between them and throw your hands in the air in annoyance. “You can’t possibly think that’s the same thing, right? A nationally organized game being postponed for a board game.”
Mike and Dustin both gasp at you, acting as if you’ve just threatened to kill a baby bunny in front of them, which only annoys you more. Sure, maybe you’re being a little mean right now, but you’re not appreciating how they’re treating Lucas. He’s never done anything to warrant this blatant disrespect from them. They’re refusing to see his side, too lost in their Eddie induced high.
“DnD isn’t just a board game, Y/N! I’m honestly disappointed that you of all people would even say that. You’ve seen the intricacies of a campaign. You know I’ve spent all month now preparing for the end of Eddie’s campaign!” Dustin waves his hands in front of him, he’s in his own ecstasy of anger and annoyance, something innate in the Henderson bloodline. “A semester of adventuring has led to this moment, and we need Lucas.”
“Yeah, and the Tigers don’t.” Mike looks over at Lucas. “I mean, no offense, but you’ve been on the bench all year–shit!”
You swat the back of Mike’s head, the sound of his yelp satisfying and the sting of the hit soothes you. He looks at you, offended, and you just shake your head at him. “No, that was out of line and you know it.”
“One day I’m gonna be too tall for you to hit me, you know.” Mike scowls at you as he rubs his head.
“And I’ll mourn the day when that happens,” you respond dryly before pointing at Lucas. “Now, apologize to him before I hit you again.”
Lucas lowers your finger and shakes his head. “It’s fine, Y/N. Me being on the bench isn’t the point, anyways.”
“Please, arrive at the point.” Your brother drops his head back and closes his eyes. He’s tired, he regrets even starting this conversation in the first place. The more the four of you talk, the angrier he can feel you become. Mike’s head may now be sore, but Dustin lives with you. If anyone here is in danger of your lecturing, it’s him.
“If I get in good with these guys, I’ll be in the popular crowd, and then you guys will be too.” Lucas explains, looking between Dustin and Mike as he urges them to understand, but they don’t. Mike claims that they don’t want to be popular, something that Lucas doesn’t believe. “What, you wanna be stuck with the nerds and freaks for three more years?”
“We are nerds and freaks!” Dustin exclaims, causing a few students in the hall to look at you guys. You wave at them awkwardly, you’re starting to regret following the boys. This conversation feels personal, like you shouldn’t be intruding. Though you think Lucas has every right to want a good high school experience, you also think Mike and Dustin deserve to have their own experiences as well. If they don’t want to be popular, then that’s their decision just as much as it’s Lucas’ to want to be.
You step between the three boys, finally getting their attention. “Guys, no one here is necessarily right or wrong. Lucas has every right to want to be a part of the basketball crowd, and you two,” you raise your eyebrows at Mike and Dustin, “have every right to want to stick with Eddie’s crowd.”
Dustin sighs, “thanks, Y/N–”
“I’m not finished,” you hold a hand up and shush your brother. “What isn’t right, however, is abandoning one another. You guys are friends, and right now Lucas wants you at his game tonight to support him. Tonight is special, everyone will be there, and I want you guys there as well. I know high school is hard, but it’s even harder when you’re alone.”
“Says the girl who is adored by everyone in this shitty town.” Mike huffs, he can’t believe how hypocritical you’re being. “You’ve never had to deal with what we do. No one has ever laughed at you or tried to make you jump off a cliff just because you’re different.”
You clench your jaw. Dustin looks at you wearily, he doesn’t like what Mike is saying, but he also can’t help but agree with his friend. You haven’t ever been bullied. All your life you’ve blended in, stood out only when you were kind to others, admired for your selflessness, but never enough to be invited to parties or dumped behind a dumpster.
“Mike…” Your brother tries to pull him away from you, but you both stand your ground.
“You’re right, Wheeler. I don’t know what it’s like.” You stare up at the boy, and Mike’s expression softens only slightly. He’s just as stubborn as you are, it’s why the two of you admire the other so much. “But you forget that I’m Jonathan’s best friend. The creep, the loser, the psychopath. Kids may not have ever targeted me, but I’ve seen what they do to the people they hate.”
All the times you had to ice Jonathan’s bruised face. The nights you spent in his room holding him as he cried because Lonnie’s fists and Tommy’s cruel words were too much. The sneers, the stares Jonathan received because he was different. Quiet. Being your best friend hadn’t lessened the blows.
For years you wish you could’ve done more for Jonathan. Now, presented with Lucas’ opportunity to befriend the crowd that once was so cruel to your friend, you refuse to lose it. “That’s why I don’t want Lucas skipping the game tonight.”
It’s silent for a few moments, all three boys don’t know what to say. Taking a deep breath, Lucas stands beside you and breaks the silence. “We came to high school wanting things to be different, right? Now we have that chance. Like Y/N said, if I skip tonight, that’s all out the window. So I’m asking you guys, as a friend, just talk to Eddie. Get him to move Hellfire.”
Lucas pauses, he wets his lips and looks between his friends again. He feels so small, pleading for their attention. “Come to my game. Please.”
The bell rings, ending the conversation, and Lucas spares one last look at Dustin and Mike before mumbling a soft goodbye to you. He leaves you alone with the boys, who in turn mirror conflicted expressions.
“Shit!” Dustin kicks his foot out and looks at you. “This is all your fault, you know that?”
“What is?”
“Me having empathy. I hate this. Why couldn’t you have raised me to be an asshole?”
You snort at Dustin before pulling him into a weak hug. You only have a few more minutes before you need to get to class, you can’t stay very long, but you also don’t want to leave the boys without some semblance of comfort. “You’re too charming to be an asshole. Just… Come to the game, alright? Both of you. I’ll even make brownies if I have to. I just-I’ve missed you guys. This will be good for all of us.”
Mike ducks his head and Dustin sighs once more. Neither want to say anything else, so you reluctantly release your brother and leave them alone to wallow in their self-created misery.
They’ll do the right thing. You’re sure of it.
–
Lunch comes and Alex sits next to you. He started sitting with you at lunch just after winter break, and you’re endlessly grateful for him. You’re no longer alone, and he’s good company. A part of you regrets that it took the two of you three years to grow your friendship outside of Bookstrorindary.
You’ll miss him when you graduate.
Max is with Ms. Kelly today, a change in their usual meeting schedule of Tuesdays and Thursdays, meaning you had been right. She did skip their meeting yesterday and the counselor had to corner her this morning to schedule another one.
“Be honest, how excited are you to move to New York this summer?” Alex asks you, taking a bite out of his carrot stick. You’ve come to learn that he has a weird obsession with the vegetable, always packing at least twelve of them every day.
You pick at your own lunch, a wilted salad and sandwich your mom left for you this morning. “Honestly? It hasn’t really hit me yet. I mean, I only got in last week. I think my mind is still trying to catch up with reality.”
“Oh, c’mon. You can’t tell me you’re not at least a little excited.”
“Okay, okay,” you laugh and nudge the boy. “I’m a little excited. I just.. Haven’t really had time to think too much about it, you know? Between work, my brother, Steve, the kids, and…”
“Jonathan?” Alex finishes for you. He’s the only one who knows about how distant Jonathan has been. You’ve confided in him about how worried you are, about the phone calls while he’s high and the way Jonathan’s voice no longer sounds like his.
You shove your lunch away, no longer hungry. “Yeah.”
“You guys call every Friday, right? Maybe tonight will be different!” Alex tries to cut through the tension that now corrodes your demeanor, which you smile at him gratefully for.
“Yeah, who knows.” A piece of hair falls in your face and you push it behind your ear. Picking up your fork again, you attempt to finish your meal, but a sudden commotion interrupts the low buzz in the lunchroom.
“As long as you’re into band, or science, or parties.” Eddie Munson sneers from the cafeteria table he’s standing on. He looks around the room as if everyone else is beneath him. Not worth his time just because they enjoy different things. Looking at Alex, you both sigh and prepare for whatever Eddie has to say today. His voice grows louder, shouting across the room towards the basketball team’s table. “Or a game where you toss balls into laundry baskets!”
Jason stands up and a few students whoop and cheer. “You want something, freak?”
Eddie sticks to fingers up behind his head as he creates little devil horns, snarling with his tongue out and hissing. Jason grimaces, you do too.
“He’s a little much, isn’t he?” You say to Alex, relieved when Eddie starts to step down from the table.
“He terrifies me.” Alex breathes out, not taking his eyes off Eddie in fear he’ll somehow cast a spell on him.
You laugh at your friend’s unnecessary fear. Eddie is harmless, Hellfire isn’t a demonic cult like some students at Hawkins seem to think. It really is just a club centered around a board game with impressive storytelling and detailed plotlines. From what Dustin has told you, Eddie truly is the best dungeon master in Indiana.
And while you believe him, you can’t wrap your head around why your brother idolizes Eddie so much. The fascination runs deeper than just DnD. Dustin has spent almost every day of his freshman year wrapped around Eddie’s finger. He spends all his time with the teen now, rarely with you, but you’re not bitter. Of course you’re not. Dustin can have his own friends, you know this, but you also feel so… unneeded.
Your little brother doesn’t need you anymore, and it’s a hard pill to swallow.
Truthfully, Alex’s question earlier about moving to New York in the summer sparked more than just your usual anxiety over Jonathan. It also reminded you that in only a few short months you’ll be in an entirely new state, a new city, far away from Dustin.
“Y/N!” Dustin flies into the seat next to you, nearly upending the table itself with how violently he throws himself down.
Alex shrieks and you steady the table before anything can fall. Heart pounding, you clutch at your chest as your nerves settle. “Why must you always be so violent?”
“Because it’s fun,” Dustin responds, not even bothering to acknowledge Alex’s presence. Instead, his eyes are only on you, and there’s a crazed spark in them. He’s breathing heavily, frantic, and you dread where this is going. “Look, I need to ask you a huge favor.”
“Do you realize that this is the first time you’ve sat with me at lunch since the first day?”
He winces. “And I will repent every day for my horrendous sins. I promise, I just–Jesus you’re terrifying when you don’t blink.” Dustin removes his hat to fix his hair, a nervous tick of his. He’s stalling, he should’ve never come here. Gulping, he rips the band aid off. “I need you to sub for Lucas tonight.”
“I’m sorry?” You’re giving him an out, one chance to back down before you strangle him.
Only Dustin tightens the noose even more. “Please, Y/N! Eddie won’t move the campaign. He said something about sheep and-and finding subs because Mike and I are, uh. I guess the future of Hellfire and he needs us and did I mention how important this campaign is? It’s super cool, super gory and totally up your alley and–”
“No.”
“N-no?” Dustin practically deflates in front of you, the light in his eyes dies.
You shove him away from you, you don’t want to look at his pathetic pouting. You’re so unbelievably hurt right now, so fucking infuriated. “You have spent every goddamn waking hour ass kissing Eddie. You haven’t so much as looked at me during lunch this entire year as if I’m a fucking plague. You’ve canceled plans, you’re hardly ever home, and now you expect me to abandon Lucas, someone who has spent time with me this year, someone who has made this entire year less lonely for me. Something, by the way, that you haven’t even noticed, all because you finally need me?”
Dustin’s mouth opens and closes, he doesn’t know what to say, but for once you don’t care. How could he possibly think you’d miss Lucas’ game tonight? You adore the boys, each and every one of them, and now Dustin expects you to just abandon one of them for the others?
“You’re only here because it’s convenient for you.” You hiss, venom pouring from your voice. “For Eddie.”
“Y/N…” Dustin’s voice breaks, he sounds like a little kid again, the baby brother you doted on your entire life. “Please.”
“No!” You scream at him.
The word echoes throughout the cafeteria. A few students turn to you, some curious, some annoyed. Alex draws into himself, wishing he were anywhere but here right now. Dustin’s eyes widen, his skin pales, and you clamp your hand over your mouth, completely and utterly mortified.
You’ve never, ever yelled at Dustin like this before. Not with so much malice, vitriol.
You feel like you’re twelve again, your anger hurting your baby brother.
Red hot with embarrassment and shame, you quickly get up from the table and flee the cafeteria. Dustin calls after you, but you stumble through the hallway towards the nearest bathroom. Tears burn your eyes, guilt wracks your body in painful thuds.
By the time you lock yourself in the bathroom’s stall, your sobs have begun to claw their way out of your throat. Pressing your back against the wall, you sink to the ground and pull your knees into your chest as you finally allow yourself to cry.
Abandonment makes you cruel. Your father taught you that.
–
You don’t see Dustin for the rest of the day. He’s missing Lucas’ game and you’re angry with him for that, but you also feel such an intense guilt over your outburst. You can’t stomach the thought of seeing him.
School ends and Steve drives you to work. The shift will be a short one due to the championship game, and Steve is staying with you so that you can drive to the game together. However, the moment you get into his car, he notices the dried tears on your face and the redness in your eyes and immediately throws his arms around you. In between shaky breaths and cries, you explain what happened to Steve.
He soothes you, tells you that you can always talk to Dustin after tonight’s game. Right now you and your brother need space from one another, and you hate that Steve’s right. You’ll force Dustin into a code blue, you’re long overdue for one, anyways. He’s been acting weird for weeks now. Someone has to give in, you know this, and if it has to be you then you’ll do anything to get your brother back.
For now, Steve holds your hand as he guides you through the crowd of people in the bleachers. They all cheer for Hawkins High, the energy in the gym is electric. Faces are painted, cheerleaders wave their pom-poms, and you’re wearing Steve’s old Tigers jersey. You’re not much for school spirit, but Steve almost crashed the car when he realized you were wearing the jersey, and you know Lucas will appreciate it too.
“Y/N, over here.” Steve’s hand falls onto the small of your back as he gently pushes you towards some open seats he’s found. You lean into his touch and sit beside him. With his body against yours, you try to immerse yourself in the joy from the crowd.
The entire town is here tonight. Everyone is smiling, kids laugh and parents wave posters for their sons. Tonight will be a good night, you’ve decided this to be true.
The national anthem is announced and everyone rises in their seats. When the broadcaster announces that Tammy Thompson will be singing, you and Steve look at each other incredulously. Laughter rises within you and you cackle when Robin finds the two of you in the crowd. There’s no way this won’t end in disaster.
Tammy walks out, wearing a horrendous faux cowboy outfit, and almost immediately sings off-key. You cringe, ears stinging from the attack, and try desperately not to let out any laughter as she continues to butcher the song.
Steve whispers over to Robin, “told you. Muppet.”
“Okay, she does sound like a muppet.” Robin agrees, which only makes it harder to contain your giggles. Tammy is worse than a muppet, she sounds like a goddamn muppet that broke into her dad’s alcohol stash.
“You sound better, angel.” Steve whispers into your ear, breath warm against your skin.
You lean back against him and smile sarcastically. “Anyone can sound better than her.”
Steve chuckles and you can’t help but join him. You know it’s rude, that Tammy is honestly not that bad, though definitely not good enough for Nashville, but you can’t help it. You can’t believe Robin ever had such a huge crush on the girl who now drones the national anthem like a dying parrot.
In between breaths of laughter, you see Lucas looking up at the bleachers. His face is grim, he doesn’t see Mike or Dustin or Max. None of his friends showed up, and you watch him with sympathy. You can’t believe them.
But then Lucas sees you, and he gives you a weak smile. Your attendance isn’t enough, you know it isn’t, but you hold up the poster you made for him and he laughs despite himself.
The game starts, and from the moment the whistle is blown, it’s intense. The Tigers are neck and neck with the Falcons. Steve tries to explain what’s happening throughout the game, but it all goes over your head. The energy in the room is intoxicating, though. You lean forward in your seat, you cheer when everyone else does, boo when you think you should.
“Carver just loves hogging the spotlight, doesn’t he?” Steve says with disdain as he watches Jason side sweep his teammates to score.
You poke his side, you know he’s only saying this because he’s still bitter that Jaosn tried asking you out last summer. “Honey, your jealousy is showing.”
Steve tries to deny this, but then a player gets injured during a foul from Falcon, causing you and Steve to both spew insults at the player. You have no idea what the foul even is, but you’re enjoying the chaos of the game.
In the midst of your uproar, you almost miss Lucas being sent into the game. You slap Steve’s chest repeatedly to get his attention, you almost don’t believe what you’re seeing. “Steve! Is that–”
“Sinclair!” He whoops, but he quickly scrambles to catch you as you nearly throw yourself off the bleachers in your blind excitement cheering. You’re screaming your head off, hardly even registering Steve’s hands on your waist. You’re incoherent and ecstatic, drunk on adrenaline.
Lucas is playing.
The game only gets more brutal from there. The points even out, both teams neck and neck. Anxious, you squeeze Steve’s hand with anticipation. Everything happens so fast, Lucas plays so naturally with the others, as if he was born to be there.
“Go, Tigers!” You jump up and down as Lucas runs after Jason. They’re doing a new play, attempting to score the tie breaker. Jason shoots, the ball hits off the backboard and onto the rim. Your breath catches, there’s only three seconds left on the clock. The ball falls, and there isn’t any time left.
Until Lucas catches the missed shot. He dribbles the ball, you clutch Steve’s hand, neither one of you utters a single word as Lucas makes the final shot. It’s an all or nothing throw, a risk, but he takes it anyways. The ball soars through the air, hits the rim. The buzzer sounds, the game is over, and the ball spins around the rim before finally sinking through the net.
Your chest burns as you violently cheer, Steve flings himself into your arms. You’re both jumping around, screaming together like little kids. “Hey did it!” You scream, and Steve shakes you in his arms with the biggest smile on his face.
“Sinclair did it!”
Down below, Lucas’ face lights up as the crowd goes wild for him. This is the happiest you’ve seen the kid in so long. The entire basketball team swarms Lucas, they lift him into the air and you cheer alongside them.
Steve tells you he’ll go warm the car up and you practically run outside to find Lucas as soon as the game is done. Your body buzzes, you’re still breathless with exhilaration. When you find Lucas, he’s just left the crowd of teenage boys. Wanting to surprise him, you creep up slowly before throwing your arms from behind him. “There’s the star!”
He stumbles from your weight, but he knows it’s you. Laughing, he turns around and you pull him into a bone crushing hug. “You came!”
“Of course I did, you moron!” You giggle, pulling away to straighten his jacket. “I made you a poster and everything.”
Lucas looks down at the poster that hangs by your side. His eyes light up, he remembers seeing it in the stands at the beginning of the game, but he hadn’t been able to read it from so far away. “Can I see it?”
“I’d be offended if you didn’t want to see it.” You unroll the poster and present it with a grand flourish. “Tada!”
Sin to win, Sinclair!
You’re incredibly proud of the wordplay, and Lucas chuckles. It’s good, he has to admit. You’ve left no white space on the poster, littering with small 8’s for his jersey and millions of small stickers and decorations. The poster was made with love, and Lucas knows you spent hours making it.
“I love it, Y/N.” He does. It will hang on his wall as soon as he gets home.
You beam at him. Then, from behind you, you hear your brother’s own cheers as a door opens. Lucas’ smile fades, hurt creeps upon his face. Frowning, you turn and find Dustin and Mike high fiving their Hellfire friends as they all celebrate the end of their campaign. Erica is with them, cheering with everyone else.
“Lucas…” Your breath gives out. He doesn’t deserve this. Tonight was supposed to be his night. You turn to him, wracking your brain to try and figure out what you’re even supposed to say at this moment. Fifty feet away Lucas’ close friends are celebrating a night without him, his sister overjoyed as well. They’ve forgotten about him.
For once, you can’t find the right words to say.
“Thanks for the poster, Y/N.” Lucas doesn’t want your sympathy. He leaves, crestfallen, and you’re left standing alone holding the poster he had been praising seconds ago. The late March air chills your bones.
You’ve never been so disappointed in your brother before.
–
Steve drives you home and you’re silent the entire time.
“Dustin isn’t a bad kid, Y/N. You know that.” Steve tries to reason with you, but what your brother has done tonight leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. “I’m sure by tomorrow he’ll realize he was a jerk and apologize. He always does, he’s just being a stupid teen boy right now.”
You face the window, watching the trees fading into the distance. You know Steve is right, you know that Dustin is still growing up, making mistakes. Hell, no one is perfect at fifteen. When you were his age you were falling in love with your best friend as you hunted monsters together. Neither you or Jonathan or Nancy knew what the hell you guys were doing back then.
But this is different. Dustin has never betrayed his friends like this before. He, out of all of them, should understand the pain of being left behind. He spent half the summer upset that the party ditched him, and now he’s ditching Lucas?
“You know, I used to be a stupid teen boy.” Steve says, trying again to get you to say something. To look at him, at least.
It works, a small smile turns your lips. “I never knew.”
He laughs at the sarcasm in your voice, but he plays along anyways. “Oh, I totally was. I just hid it really well by, you know, making you hate me for a while by being annoying. But hey, look at me now! I’m still annoying, but at least I have it all figured out with you.”
“And what do you have figured out, honey?” You turn your head towards him, watch the street lamps illuminate his face.
Steve smiles. “Us. Our future. Sure, I may not know if I’ll ever get a better job, but I’m sure as shit staying with you, starting a life together so that I can annoy you for all eternity.”
“How romantic,” a giggle falls from your lips. You’ve been with Steve for nearly a year now, but you haven’t really talked about the future yet. At least not so intimately, with so much assurance that in the end it’ll be the two of you. “And where will we live, Romeo?”
“New York, obviously. As soon as you graduate, we’ll find some horrible, run down apartment that’s barely big enough for two people. We’ll move in, but there won’t be any air conditioning so we’ll almost murder each other in the heat. Everyone will hate the place, but we’ll love it.”
As Steve talks, the smile that had once been on your face begins to fade. He rambles on, not noticing the shift. He dreams up the plans, how he’ll stay home while you go to class. How he’ll fix the leaky faucet that will inevitably annoy everyone. Steve envisions himself waiting for you to come home after a long day of classes and falling into his arms.
“Steve–” But he doesn’t hear you. He’s busy explaining how he’ll probably have to sell his car to afford the apartment, but that he doesn’t care, and you feel sick. It’s too much, he’s giving up too much. He’s willing to give up his entire life for you, drop everything and follow you without any questions asked.
It’s what your mother did for your father. They met in college, both attending Purdue. Their relationship had been a whirlwind. Love at first sight, married as soon as they graduated, your father convinced your mom to follow him back to Virginia. To abandon her family and move two states over while pregnant with you. She didn’t know anyone in Virginia, her father moved them to a small town where only his name was known.
The divorce that followed twelve years later ruined your mother’s life. She had been left all alone, no family to support her, no friends, in a state she never grew up in.
And now Steve wants to do the same for you.
Raising your voice slightly, you try to interrupt him again. “Steve!”
“What?” He looks over at you, words finally dying. “Do you want to keep the car?”
“You… you can’t.”
Steve frowns. “I can’t what?”
Your hands shake. Your heart trembles. Your words die in your throat. There’s so much you want to say, you can feel the pit in your stomach build into a fist. You can’t let Steve do this. He doesn’t understand that he deserves more than this. “You-you can’t come to New York.”
Everything stills. You don’t dare to breathe, to disrupt the silence. Your words come out all wrong, you know they do, but they’re out in the open and Steve doesn’t look at you as he pulls into your driveway. Silent, he turns the car’s engine off.
“Y/N…” Steve still can’t look at you. He places his hands on the steering wheel, as if bracing himself for whatever will unfold tonight. He’s scared, he doesn’t understand what he’s done wrong. His mind flashes, and for a brief second he’s back at the Halloween party and you’re Nancy in his passenger seat. “Do you not see a future with me?”
“I do!” You sit up in your seat, reach over to touch Steve’s thigh. You need to feel him, to ground yourself to him. Everything about this feels wrong. As if you’re hanging over the edge of a chasm with a long, long fall. “God, of course I see a future with you, I just-this isn’t what you really want.”
Steve doesn’t want to move to New York, even if he doesn’t realize it now. What he’s really doing is chasing after a dream that isn’t his. The timing of this is off, he fought with his dad this morning about a future he was unsure of. You know Steve, maybe even better than he knows himself; he’s not doing it for your relationship or out of love. Steve only wants to appease his father, fulfill whatever desire he thinks you have. This isn’t what he wants, and he’s worked too hard to build the life he has now, without you, to simply throw it all away.
But he can’t see that right now.
“Of course this is what I want, Y/N! All I want is you.” Steve finally looks at you, but there’s a hardness in his eyes. He’s detaching himself from you, putting his walls up. “You and me, that’s what I want.”
You grab his hand, you try to keep your voice calm. “Steve, I love you so, so much, but I can’t-I can’t let you give everything up for me. Your life is here, in Hawkins. You have a job, you have your friends and-and your family, and it wouldn’t be fair to either one of us if you abandon it for me. You could-you could resent me for it later, you could realize you hate our life and wish you never followed me and–”
“Y/N, what did you think was going to happen when you were applying to all those colleges?” Steve runs a hand through his hair, he thought you were beside him this whole time. He assumed you’d been carving out the same future he had been. But he was wrong. “Did you really think I’d just stay behind and wait for you to come home every break?”
“I…” Shamefully, you hadn't been considering what would happen between you and Steve. In your mind, he was your future, he was in it, but the details were hazy. You weren’t sure how, or why, or when, but you knew that in the end, Steve was the person you’d spend forever with.
Steve takes your hesitancy as his answer. “God, I’m such a fucking idiot.”
“Steve–”
“You were just going to leave me.”
He tears his hand from yours and you blink back tears. You’ve never fought with him before, not like this. “I wasn’t just going to leave you! I just-Steve, please just listen!”
“I am, Y/N!” Steve exclaims, voice reverberating the car. You flinch away, and he immediately lowers his voice, apologetic. He hadn’t meant to scare you, he hadn’t meant to make you cry. Ashamed, Steve turns away from you. “I-I’m sorry.”
He wants to wipe the tears he’s caused, but selfishly he also wants you to hurt like he’s hurting. You don’t see a future with Steve. You were going to leave him just like everyone else does.
Steve should’ve known all of this was too good to be true.
“I love you,” your voice is almost inaudible, the three words barely reach the light before they disappear into the dark night. You’re not sure why you say them, the words had built in your chest, the pressure heavy, and you needed to release them. To remind Steve of your oath to him.
Silence fills the car. Steve doesn’t look at you, his shoulders are drawn together. His jaw clenches and you know he’s trying desperately to bite his tongue, withholding the cruel words that only heartbreak can provoke.
“Honey,” you beg him to say something, anything. “Steve.”
“I think you should go.”
The dismissal punches your throat, knocks the wind out of you. He’s shutting you out, closing himself off from you, and you don’t understand how the two of you got here. “I… Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Steve’s words are cool, composed. Indifferent, almost. He still doesn’t look at you, his eyes remain focused on something in your driveway. “It’s late, you should get some sleep.”
“Okay,” you don’t want to leave, you know it isn’t good to go to bed angry with the one you love. Anger should never simmer, it should never be left unwatched. But Steve is silently asking you to give him space so that he can hurt, and you aren’t selfish enough to deny his request. And yet you’re selfish enough to press your lips to Steve’s cheek, but he doesn’t lean in like how normally does. Instead, he remains stoic, and you swallow down your tears and open the door to leave. “Drive home safe, honey.”
Steve doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he starts the car as soon as the door is closed and drives away. He doesn't look back, he doesn’t wait to see if you’ve made it inside your house safely.
Tears spill down your face as you blindly walk towards your front door. Your argument with Steve replays over and over again in your head. You analyze every second, every word, you try to understand when everything fell apart.
It’s dark in your home, your mother is asleep and Dustin’s door is closed, but right now all you want is your brother. You need to talk to him, cry into his shoulder and smell the shampoo he’s used ever since he was a baby. Your feet carry you to Dustin’s room and you pound on his door, begging him to let you in. You don’t bother masking the tears in your voice, you’re too exhausted to hide them from him. “Dustin, please let me in.”
“Go away!” There’s a thud on the door, he’s thrown something at it to shut you up. He doesn’t want to hear some stupid lecture right now. He knows he was an asshole tonight, he regrets it, but right now all Dustin wants to do is sleep. He’ll deal with you tomorrow.
“Code blue,” you press your forehead against the door, your tears fall to the ground. “C-code blue.” Your voice hiccups, more tears come, minutes pass, and your brother never answers.
For the first time since you were kids, Dustin rejects your request for a code blue.
The phone rings. The sound pierces through your ears, cuts through the headache that is starting to form. It’s Friday night. Jonathan is calling.
Squeezing your eyes shut as you head pounds, you inhale shakily. You have to answer him, otherwise he’ll only call over and over again with concern. You’ve never missed a phone call, not once in the months since Jonathan has moved, but tonight you’re exhausted.
“Can we call tomorrow?” You’re too tired to greet him and voice cracks, revealing far too much already.
“Bug?” Jonathan’s high, he’s always high. And yet even in his cloudy haze of smoke he can hear the anguish in your voice. “Is everythin’ okay?”
His question only makes you cry more. You’ve always tried your best to put up a front for others, to pretend that everything is okay. You’ve never wanted to worry people, you’ve always pushed aside your own hurt for the sake of others. Now, as anger and grief and despair clasp their hands around your throat, you’re terrified you’ll suffocate.
You’ve never been able to lie to Jonathan, and tonight you don’t think you can. “I’ve had… the worst night.” You confess to him, wiping away tears.
You tell him everything, your fight with Dustin, how you think he may resent you leaving for college. You tell Jonathan about Lucas, how you were so disappointed in Dustin and Mike. Choking through tears, you explain to Jonathan your fight with Steve. How your words failed you, how hurt he looked, that you can’t explain to him how he only wants his future to align with yours, but not with your relationship.
Even though you know that Jonathan won’t remember any of this tomorrow, for once you’re grateful that he’s too high to remember anything. It feels good just being able to say it all out loud.
“‘M sorry, bug.” Jonathan mumbles over the phone once you’ve finished explaining everything. He sounds far away, figuratively and literally. You can’t imagine how much his drugged mind retained, but you’re thankful to have gotten it all off your chest anyways.
“It’s fine,” you inhale again, you’ve finally stopped crying, though your chest still hurts and your head still pounds. “Steve and I… We’ll figure it out.”
Jonathan pauses, and for a moment you think he’s fallen asleep, but then his voice floats through the telephone line. “Do you.. Do you ever wonder if we’ve made a mistake?”
He strings his words slowly together, says them one by one with a hesitancy, and you frown. You don’t understand what he’s trying to say. What mistakes could you have made together? “What do you mean, bee?”
“I just… everythin’ is so hard. With Nance. Feel like… like ‘m never enough for her. And you, Steve. ‘S hard between you guys.” Jonathan’s words slur, he’s almost too incoherent to understand, and later you will wish that you hadn’t been able to understand him at all. “But you ‘n me? ‘S easy. Always so easy.”
His words toe the line between you, he can’t mean any of it. You don’t want him to mean any of it, because then the fallout would be too catastrophic to contain.
He’s Jonathan. Your oldest, dearest friend. Your best friend. Years ago, you could’ve been something more, you almost were something more, but the time has passed.
You’re with Steve now, you’re happy and so, so in love with him. Even though everything is tangled between you right now, even though you’re fighting, you know that you and Steve will figure it out. He’s the one. He’s the man you want to marry one day, if he’ll allow you to.
Jonathan is your past, Steve is your future, and right now you’re terrified that soon you’ll lose them both.
“Jonathan,” you finally say, his name now heavy on your tongue. It feels like you’re betraying someone while saying his name, but you need to end this conversation. Before Jonathan says something he’ll regret in the morning. “You love Nancy, I love Steve, and you need to go to sleep.”
“Love you,” Jonathan’s words slur even more, his voice drifting off. “You, always you…”
You slam the phone done, ending the call, as a chill runs down your spine. Silence encases you, the house is still. The strings and threads from years ago constrict around your throat. You choke on the lines Jonathan has crossed tonight, the tightness in your head stabs against your skull.
There is no one to hear you, no one there to hear your final words to your best friend. “Goodbye, Jonathan.”
-
⌑ series masterlist
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#steve harrington x henderson!reader#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#stranger things#steve harrington fanfic#stranger things rewrite#slowburn#angst#bdyr#m's writing#SEASON 4 EVERYONE CHEER !!!!#also i dont hate eddie but bug does#lmao
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lessons in kissing.
dick grayson x male reader x peter parker.
summary: dick and peter become your professors in kissing 101 (& more).
wc: 6.2k. genre: smut. warnings: top!peter, top!dick, bottom!reader, handjobs, blowjobs, kissing, cum-swapping, mouth-fucking, threesome, unprotected rough!sex, reader's first time, characters are aged up!
notes: yeah, so um... this might be my dirtiest smut yet. this was also my first time writing a threesome soooo, i hope i did okay? thank you, anon!
request by: anonymous.
“you’re lying! you’ve really never kissed anyone before?”
“dude, like, ever?!” peter gasped, and you turned towards him, slowly nodding while you grew cautious of everyone’s confusion.
“not even when you were in kindergarten?” you twisted your neck for the nth time at the sound of dick’s voice again, and shame unexpectedly crept onto you the more the two men collected their bafflement together.
your cheeks and neck flamed as they both stared at you, bewildered as if your confession was akin to an unmasking of a superhero—like a family of lemurs, a small one, you’d reckon.
“geez,” your hand clutched onto the can of sparkling water harder before downing it, ridding your insecurity in several hard and fizzy gulps. “if i knew i was going to be interrogated, i wouldn’t have told you guys in confidence.”
“no, it’s just…” a careful exchange was puzzled together by the two men. dick shrugged and peter stammered, following you into the kitchen of his apartment. “i mean, not to make you feel weird or anything, but you’re not ugly.”
“i- pete, was that supposed to be a compliment?” your eyes narrowed at him jokingly, maintaining the coldness of your gaze to break peter into nervous stammers.
“w-what, no!“ he shook his head and approached you closer, a mixture of awkward laugher filling the feigned tension between the both of you. “wait- no, i mean, yes! it’s a compliment.”
you’ve always found it cute.
“i think what peter means is…” bouncy steps followed you two into the kitchen, more-so to sate his appetite for pizza after losing his tenth consecutive match on a game, but consider his curiosity piqued. a mouthful of pepperoni and cheese didn’t stop him from joining. “you’re handsome, he talks about it all the time.”
“dude...” peter grumbled and instinctively turned his body away out of your sight, sipping at nothing in his cup. the only fizz left was the glare he sent dick; like a sparkler on holiday festivities.
“oops, my bad,” another bite, and dick took his cup of soda to gulp the grease down. “we find you handsome—though, i’m pretty sure (m/n) knew that since i hit on him when we first met.”
“god,” you laughed it off, picking the pizza box of gloopy cheese to take it in your mouth. “can you imagine? my first kiss being with you? or even peter?”
yes, you can imagine. those thoughts had run rampant since you met them in freshman year of university, expanded upon it even. what would it be like to date dick? how soft were his lips? and the same for peter. sometimes, you’d even think about making out while he was in his spider-man costume, but that fantasy was shamefully bookmarked into a deep abyss of thoughts, only sprouting when you would touch yourself at night.
“why?” peter turned back, almost offended, while dick’s laughter joined you, and you swear you can feel a draft from how quickly he twisted around. “is that weird?”
“kinda?” the conversation made you shift on your feet. it was more intimate than what you were used to, and they knew it too, judging by the way they both stared at you again—hyenas. “i mean, i guess it’s because we’re so close now, so…”
“pft, that never stopped me,“ it was like a magic spell drew that confession out of dick. your fingers would have to be cut to coerce that out of you, but you weren’t dick—shameless and confident, you admired it on good days.
nonetheless, you and peter both gave dick a questioning look. offended would be a regular person’s first reaction, but from the brief exchange you and peter shared, it was unanimous that curiosity took the lead.
dick’s gaze shifted from you and peter, and when the silence drew out for longer than he would’ve thought, a welcoming draft in the room awaited his rebuttal. “come on- you seriously think i stopped thinking about you guys just because we’re best friends now?
“dude, you think about me?” peter’s eyes widened. it would’ve been hilarious if you weren’t involved. you would’ve passed this off as a banter, no more than that.
you hated to admit it, but you felt yourself throb at this revelation. blood rushed downwards in light speed and you were barely conscious to the drone of peter and dick’s chatter, but you shook it off, laughing at their banters like you aways did.
the day went on like usual. peter’s collection of video games kept you guys entertained for a few hours. when you felt fatigued from mashing your thumb onto the buttons for the ninth match, a walk downtown sufficed. laughing and bantering were the core of your friendship with dick and peter—like every friendship you’d imagine.
but at its finest, it was their vulnerabilities to you, and yours to them, that kept the foundation strong. they trusted you with every secret of theirs, aided them in a few missions of their own, and your friendship thrived.
the next few days haven’t been exactly the smoothest. you were quieter than usual, and they both took notice because you’d pick at your food while their voices—questions and comments—were ignored, passersby to the street of hearville.
was it that weird to have never kissed at your age? to never have had sex? to not even have had held hands with another guy? they never made fun of you, but you couldn’t help but let these thoughts run rampant.
no. no, it wasn’t. people have their own pace. mine... just somehow happens slower.
you weren’t insecure, but you still felt weird. you suddenly became moody when you saw dick and peter, like you want to be left alone, push them out of your apartment when they drop a visit, drop their pants and suck them off-
oh.
ohhhhh.
dick and peter.
“teach me.” you suddenly spoke out and the two men looked up from their plate of food, exchanging a look with each other before questioning you, humored because you barely spoke all day. the tv played in the background and you were all sitting on the ground, eating off of peter’s very… very small coffee table.
“ah, i almost forgot what your voice sounded like, (m/n)!” dick laughed, twirling his fork into his pasta before shoving the food into his mouth.
you made a slight pout, only because they weren’t taking you seriously. though, to be fair, you have been acting weird all week.
“with what?” peter noticed, a little more serious in his inquiry. but food was more of a priority for him, you can see him practically sweating at the thought of leaving his spaghetti cold.
“pete, you can still eat-“ you laughed, taking a bite of your food.
“oh, thank god.” and peter does the same, chowing down on his spaghetti after a hard day of saving lives.
dick cleaned his palette with a cold gulp of soda, a refreshing hiss when the bubbles trickled down his throat. “so, teach you what exactly?” he continued on. “fighting? oh, dude, are you going to be a vigilante-“
“no, no! does it look like i have the strength to be like batman or something?”
“well, i’m guessing that’s why you came to us for training?” dick amused himself, and peter chuckled, much to your annoyance.
“guys, i don’t want to be a vigilante.” you grumbled, beginning to bury your confession deep in the pit of your stomach somewhere. “or a superhero, or a guy in a spider-suit with weird web things.”
“hey, they’re not weird-“
“i want to…” it was calming to watch the way your fork swirled itself into the pasta, metal tongs pierced and capturing a wave of sauce and spaghetti all in one swirl. “learn what it’s like to kiss.”
peter choked on his glass of water.
you continued, hot in the cheeks because you can see peter’s widened eyes even when you look away. “handjobs, blowjobs, everything…”
and a piece of dick’s meatball was caught in his throat.
a low drone accompanied the silence once the tv was muted and while a huge weight lifted off your shoulders and chest, you felt small knowing how vulnerable and weird your request sounded.
“so, you want us to teach you how to…” dick cleared his throat and you feel like you could hear a smile, but you weren’t sure if that was your mind trying to convince you that everything was fine. “kiss and… other things?”
“yeah,” you continued to avoid your gaze, opting for the wooden floor instead. “i know, it’s weird. you don’t have to say yes or anything, it’s just-“
“is that why you’ve been acting stand-offish lately? peter was worried. he was the type to always blame himself of someone else’s behavior, no matter how much you tried to reassure him. though, you guess, he technically was the reason why you became so moody—part of it, anyway.
“mhm.” the silence was defeating, you can hear their necks turn to look at each other—of judgement, most likely.
and it was all but confirmed when you can see them hopping back onto their feet and running—running as far from you as possible. “guys, wait, i’m sorry-“
you looked up and watched them dash to peter’s bathroom, immediately chasing after the trail of their steps in bewilderment. “what are you-“
“first step, make sure you have good breath.” dick handed you your toothbrush, his spare one at peter’s already brushing into the foaming spearmint in his mouth.
“atleastluntilhelikeyousenough” peter gargled thick and incoherent, brushing into his jumbled sentence.
“uh-huh, okay… seems a little obvious, but…” you spread the toothpaste on the bristles of your brush and began brushing, a smile forming because you have to brush the front teeth too—but also because of your best friends.
you can always count on them.
“you ready?” dick naturally became the leader of this impromptu training program. he was the most experienced considering how many women and men you caught him with, and as much as you hated that when you were roommates with him, his expertise was needed in this moment.
“yes.” you sat in the middle of peter and dick, rubbing your sweaty palms against your shorts. a mere flash of regret ignited inside of your beating heart, but peter rested his hand on top of one of yours, squeezing ever so gently to warm and soothe you—to pacify you.
and your worries were quelled when dick does the same, his smile softer, countering his usual playful attitude. “just stop me whenever you feel uncomfortable.” he made you feel safe.
you looked at peter, and he nodded in agreement, his fingers now intertwined with yours. he had always kept you safe, feeling safe, this was a normal feeling towards him. “same with me.” “i will.” your voice was quiet in the bedroom, a mere soft whisper, but they recognized your will to be more vulnerable with one another, to blossom. and dick appeased it with a kiss.
light and feathery at first to test the water, but once dick heard your breath hitch, he applied more pressure in between your lips, capturing them in a slow waltz that kept you on your toes, yet flat on your feet to contain your excitement—your relief.
it was awkward at first, to find your footing. your nose would bump into his, teeth as well, but dick chuckled, assuring you this will always happen.
unbeknownst to you, dick’s been wanting to do this since he met you, and he savored every second. “remember what i told you… build it up.” he reminded you because you were getting eager, following his lead but returning his kiss in hard sucks. “nice and slow.”
peter’s palm on your thigh pressed gently onto your bare skin, mistakenly under the lift of your shorts because he was too in awe of the kiss, but they grounded you from your brief flight to the heavenly clouds nonetheless.
“nice and slow…” dick repeated, and you succumbed to his reminder like a prodigy. “that’s it.” it lasted for a few seconds longer until you pulled away to capture your breath again. your lips tingled still, remembering the taste of spearmint when dick’s breath ghosted on your skin.
“was that okay?” an innocent question, but you swore you stole that exact same tone from a porn you watched the other day.
“a natural,” dick laughed, stroking your hair back and you’ve never see him so affectionate—loving, as he doted on you. “try it on peter. more touching though, if you’re okay with that.”
you nodded and turned your head, meeting peter’s gaze with a flushed smile, your lips slightly swollen from your previous endeavor. “I’m okay with that.”
“me too.” peter smiled, only softening when you leaned in, and it completed hid against you when you captured his smile with a kiss.
his hand gently placed on the back of your head when you did and he pulled you closer into him, returning the kiss, and spilling his breath into yours, while at the same time, drawing yours out. “rub my chest, i like it when people do that.” peter whispered in between each kiss.
you do as you were told, a gentle hand to peter’s broad chest, and you feel yourself tightening, satisfied with how intimate this all is as you felt the muscles on his chest through the fabric.
in the meantime, dick’s been squeezing at the bulge in his pants, containing his will to completely ravish you simply by watching the way you and peter made out. he’s always been observant, noticing the strong twitching of peter’s own erection, and soon yours when peter slid his tongue into your mouth.
it was tantalizing—breath-taking— watching intimacy build up and vulnerabilities become unimaginably pliant before him. the pink muscles looped and swirled with one another, spreading and sharing sticky saliva until your mouth and peter’s were practically coated in it, glossed in sheen.
when peter pulled away, your lips were immediately stolen by dick again, kissing you with more strength than before, stubbornly refusing the chance for you to restock on oxygen as he wanted a taste of you too. the air became thicker, harder to breathe, but you basked in the taste, the wetness of dick’s tongue, and allowed yourself to become weak in his arms when he took you in, embraced you closely. “mmf...” you moaned out, breathing harder.
but just like dick, peter wasn’t finished with you, directing his tongue and lips to the back of your neck when you turned away. his ticklish and fleeting kisses pulled you back into peter’s arms, but dick noticed and pulled you forward: a stubborn game of gentle tug of war.
they wanted you, every piece of you. it was telling as peter sucked into your neck, venomous and poisoning, and when dick began directing your hand under his shirt, allowing you to feel his toned stomach and chest, and eventually his clothed erection, making you squeeze around it with an open palm.
lessons have completely escaped to the back of minds, and all that remained was pure lust.
“it’s okay if you don’t want to.” dick reassured. though, ironically, his hand atop of yours, relieving the ache in his pants continued.
through swollen lips, you managed to mutter, distracted by peter’s bruising sucks to other areas of your neck and skin, whimpering when he bit a little too hard. “i did say teach me everything…” his hands were under your shirt now, warming your bare skin with his palms, excited, but fleeting as they immediately tied to the buttons of your shorts when you gave the okay.
“hey, hey,” dick laughed, watching the way peter has grown grandly impatient. “you’re going to scare him, horn dog.” he left a kiss on your lips, a quick one before leaning past you to kiss peter.
you watched in awe at what a kiss was supposed to be like: burning with ease and passion with every stroke of their lips, no hesitation at all—just a moment of time that they’ll remember. you backed into the bed and leaned against the headboard as they kissed at the foot. you don’t remember having your hand down your shorts, but you do, palming yourself to your own private show.
the kiss ran sloppy, drool dripping down either chins, stained with intimacy, and clothes were quickly tossed to the side, with no care in the world.
you followed.
even though you were similar height to peter, he was stronger—they both were. and now, you felt smaller as they climbed onto the bed, towards you, bare and hardened. you watched breathlessly, as their cocks swung heavy with heat. peter’s pre-cum dripped thickly in yearn for something to fuck, while dick’s throbbed for something to fill—a porn scene come to life—and you were left agape, jaw and legs.
“kinda surprised we’ve never done this sooner,” peter said, you weren’t used to his voice so low. kneeling on the bed, by your left hip, he took your hand and kissed the palm, the wrist of it, skimmed his lips over your forearm before guiding It toward his cock, aching for your touch. “though, was hoping i’d have you to myself, but…” gently, your hand was cradled to wrap around his shaft, warm and running with veins, it pulsed. “this works too.”
your chest rose with every spoken word, and peter has never looked hotter. taking control of you like that made your skin crawl, a spell that commanded you to move your hand back and forth, conjuring you to pump him in slow strokes.
contrary to his overall demeanor, his actions were of warmth. caresses to your head, doting on you with honey dripping from his gaze and cotton in touch while you sinned.
you didn’t know where to look—to fall in love with the way peter gazed at you like a painting in a museum, or to salivate over the way his pre-cum leaked thickly over your hand when you squeeze it out of him, like a bottle of maple syrup.
that became more a problem—a dilemma—when you felt a wetness over your right nipple, then a sting when dick bites to get your attention—selfish and stubborn, like always. “are you sure this wasn’t a tactic to get all three of us in the same room? you seem comfortable.”
he tongued your nub, flicking back and forth to make you squirm, to hear the sound of your moans, to be the reason you have trouble sleeping at night. alongside, his palm ran over your body—chest first, down your stomach, and finally, your erect cock and balls.
you watched, breathless, continuing to stroke peter’s cock and he’d lean over to give you a few kisses here and there. for the most part, he was content like this, watching you squirm while maintaining to do the best to pleasure him.
“no, i swear- it’s just-“ dick played with your balls, squeezing and tugging on the tight sack to loosen them. every man was sensitive down there, you were no exception. “you guys made me feel safe, so…”
“well,” you looked up when peter spoke, his eyes fluttered shut, and you only got them to open when you thumbed the slit of his head, rubbing slick all over his glans, then the length of his cock when you continued stroking. “we are superheroes.”
you all laughed, switching gazes between the both of them, but it was dick’s mouth suddenly wrapping around you that made you concentrate only on him.
“oh, fuck…” warmth surrounded you, inhaled you in one shallow breath, before dick pulled you out of his wet mouth, taunting you with the loss of heat.
“it’s just like kissing,” he said, licking a stripe over the underside of your cock, tonguing his favorite spot: the neck of the glans and the frenulum. dick followed the lines of flesh with precision, leading the very tip of his tongue into the duct of your urethra—once again, tonguing it while his eyes focused on you, devious. “but let curiosity take you further and explore every part of their body.”
“m-mm…” you were sure there was meaning to his words, but they fell on deaf ears. instead, you focused on the ample heat that engulfed you again, moaning.
“every.” dick took you in and pulled you out with a pop.
“fuck-“ you breathed out, curling your toes into the sheets.
“part.” holding your cock up and stroking sloppily, he inhaled your ballsack. sweaty and musty, they must’ve been, but dick devoured the scent, the taste of sins with hungry sucks and licks—ardent and full of fervor.
and at the moment where you most expected to let out a moan, it was shoved down your throat when peter suddenly situated you in between his legs and filled your mouth with his thick cock, smelling of sweat and sex when you inhaled near his trimmed hairs.
“come on,” peter briefly pulled out, tapping the plump tip over your lips. “you learn best when you demonstrate what you’ve been taught.”
peter covered your view of dick, but you weren’t sure if you needed to see him because you felt every maneuver of dick’s tongue, now drowning your cock with his mouth while he continued assaulting your sensitive balls, tugging and squeezing.
you looked up and peter never looked bigger, more intimidating, but it’s become your new addiction, and you take his cock, holding it thick and take in what you can. it was barely past the tip before you could feel yourself gagging, but with peter’s reassurance, you swallow more of him every time you went down, slicking him up with your spit.
“how’s he doing, pete?” your cock was left cold when dick pulled away to speak, but he made up for it with his hand, stroking his spit with your cock.
“he really is a natural.” peter chuckled, watching you with a scrunched face of pleasure whenever you pulled him deeper into your mouth. almost down your throat now, but he pulled his cock back completely before you can fully take him. “you try.”
“fuck, yes.” dick leaped over and used the spit from your length earlier to lube his own cock, spitting in his palm and stroking when it wasn’t slicked to his likening while peter scooted back to kneeling at your side, stroking himself now.
as your head was positioned in between both their cocks, dick’s was bigger, thicker—a mouth stretcher you’d imagine. but peter’s was longer, veinier, and the only thing they had in common was that their balls hung loose. in porn terms, hung like a horse.
and on this very day, you considered yourself a lucky man because you have no objection to either, no will to pick and choose.
“look at you,” dick’s voice was rugged, deep, and he pushed his cock past your swollen lips. there was a clear difference in girth. your mouth was stretched wide, and you could only hum a sound of satisfaction, even with the slight sting from the stretch of skin. “who knew you’d be such a cock lover, hm?”
“he can’t get enough of it, god…” peter was in awe, salivating and stroking quicker at the sight.
two hands kept dick’s cock still in your mouth while you sucked on the bulbous tip like a lollipop. the rest of your hands stroked whatever you couldn’t mange to fit in your mouth. you were apologetic at first, but dick’s smirk told a simple story of his ego, clearly aroused by the size of his own cock as it only grew wider when you struggled downing him, gagging with a whimper.
“come on… (m/n), you can do better than that. you were so good at sucking peter off, kissing us too. what happened?” dick pulled away to stroke himself with your spit, but he quickly buried any excuses into your throat when he pushed himself into your mouth.
“you’re too comfortable now, (m/n). you’re slacking…” peter joined the banter, and when dick pulled out of your mouth, peter’s cock replaced the loss of warmth to your surprise.
holy shit, this is happening.
like a see-saw, the two men alternated in filling your mouth, stuffing saliva further and further down your throat, without allowing a single excuse from you to escape. it’s buried now, deep in the pit of your stomach, and all you can do was be the prodigy that they wished for you to be.
when it was dick’s turn to stretch your mouth, you made sure that peter’s cock wasn’t left abandoned, stroking him with distracted strokes, and vice versa when it was his turn at your throat. you overworked yourself in pleasuring your two best friends, making sure they were satisfied with you, with your mouth as you took more of them without a single plea for a break.
“fuck, there we go…” occasionally, dick would take control by holding the back of your head and fucking inside of your tight mouth. drool leaked down either corners of your mouth while you let him, tears brimming in your eyes when your throat tightened again, a familiar feeling that dick encouraged to hold back. “there’s my star. taking cock like a good student.”
if there was one thing that these very brief lessons have taught you, you were exactly what they named you: a cock lover. you slurped at whatever—whoever—entered your mouth absentmindedly, spat on cocks that have begun to look more or less the same, because it was dizzying now. your cock was left alone, but it stood tall and proud, throbbing as the two men harassed your face and mouth with their erections. one would gag you while the other had his balls shoved to your face and nose, sliding its wet, dirty slick all over your skin, staining you with lust.
it alternated like this for a while, and you were content, so was dick and peter. but you needed more—something to fill you elsewhere that wasn’t your dirty mouth. and you pleaded with your eyes, looking up at your best friends with delighted tears, a mouthful of cock, and a gaze only a cock loving whore could have—and they recognized it.
peter was reluctant to pull away, he was so close. but he’s always been selfless. he released his hold on you and it was a struggle to pull you away, but he did with your lips suctioning off with a quiet pop. a thick string of spit that once connected between your lips and peter’s cock laid like webs on your chin, cooling as you watched the two men reposition themselves.
“i’m going to assume we don’t need a lesson in how to finger yourself, hm?” dick whispered against your swollen lips and kissed you again. you were entranced under his tongue, swirling all over yours like ocean waves while you touched yourself to his licks. you twisted and pinched your nipples, tugged on them with the occasional help from dick, then stroked your cock while dick continued from peter’s original trail of bruising kisses to mark his own territory on your body. you were as horny as they were, if not hornier, and you needed them inside of you, in any way possible.
“fuck, i need you guys so bad.” breathless in your moans, your legs squirmed when you felt something wet between your thighs when they were raised, peter’s nice girth sliding in between the plump skin.
he thrusted himself slow and steady while he worked on your hole, reaching down to prepare you with his lubed digits, one by one. you’ve done this before, they were surely aware, so it wasn’t a unit that was particularly focused.
in between preparation, your mouth remained on dick’s cock again, delivering him your fullest attention with several lathers of your tongue, sucking hard and hollow, deep into your throat. you remember what he taught you and occasionally stuffed your mouth with his balls, sucking on the weight and letting go with a pull because you got off on seeing how they tensed and jiggled when you did.
“i’ll go slow.” peter leaned in with your legs hooked over his shoulders, bending you back, and kissing the tip of your nose when he was close enough to your face. “tell me if you want to stop.”
once you nodded, allowing him the will to deliver on his promise, peter made sure to lube himself up once more before pushing inside of you, slow and steady. he was careful, watching your face as it scrunched when the head slid in—burned when the rest of him filled you to the brim.
it was almost like you couldn’t breathe. it was too much, to be bearing all of this pain alone, but at the same time, you held peter close, wrapped your arms around him to prevent him from leaving you while you buried tiny whimpers into his neck, because you don’t want to stop feeling it, so full and devoured. it was written all over their faces when you glanced at them—they didn’t want to stop either.
peter and dick decorated your skin in wet kisses, distracting you from the pain while peter began to find a rhythm. although slow, you were beginning to familiarize yourself with this pain. soon after, pleasure, when he struck something inside of you, a certain spot.
“oh- peter, right there, fuck.” your legged tightened around him and the sweat from your thighs rolled back onto your stomach when peter re-adjusted himself to fuck you at a higher angle, folding you onto your back.
“yeah? right here?” peter thrusted into that spot dead-on, like a dart to a bullseye, and you groaned, your throat aching in pleasure, but dick pacified it with his cock again, filling you up once more. “oh fuck, look at you. all of your holes are filled up, fuck… so fucking tight”
“baby, you’re doing a great job, god…” your heart beat when dick called you that. it was always something he said as a joke when he arrived to your place. honey, darling, you name it, but the fact that it came out so genuine, it made your skin flush red and you could only respond in moans while you sucked him off. “i think he likes it when you fuck him like that, pete.”
for the first time, you felt wanted.
peter’s thrusts were hard and strong, his balls swung into with every rhythm. you can see the muscles in his thighs flexing whenever he pounded down into your tight hole, your bodies colliding like waves to a rock. it stung whenever his skin slapped into yours, sweaty and musky, but the sinful sounds were well-worth the prize as you basked in them, in the taste of dick’s cock, the sound of peter’s grunts, the flutter of dick’s eyes when you gargled his cock again, deeper, the sweat dripping from peter’s forehead and body—the bedroom hailed of sex. it rocked of brutal creaks and slams as both of your holes were violated and filled to the very brim, all driven by pure lust.
after some time, they switched spots, tag-teaming so dick can have his turn at your hole. unlike peter, he was rougher, immediately pounding into you because he was sex-crazed about you, couldn’t stop thinking about you since day one of meeting you.
“fuck, better than i’ve ever imagined,” he laughed into your mouth, kissing you sloppily, and pulling away when peter’s cock impatiently wedged himself in between the kiss, and you were back to sucking and jerking off cock again—no complaints. “still so tight, even after peter fucked you so hard…”
“it’s like he was made to be a whore, right?” such vulgar language from your best friends broke the original portrayal you had of them. now, all you could think about was how they wanted to absolutely make a wreck out of you, de-blossom your naive thoughts of what your first time should’ve been like.
it wasn’t what you had imagined. it was supposed to be with one person. a full-time commitment to your relationship. a loving pair holding each other close when they both climax. it was going to be special.
but this… you thought to yourself as you were fucked into the bedsheets with absolutely no mercy, your ass pained and bruised from dick’s muscular hips driving into you every time he came down, harassing you in that familiar spot again.
this was… peter pushed on your bottom lip with two fingers to open your mouth, then spitting in the void, some catching onto your tongue, before shoving his swollen cock inside of you again, aching to touch—to fuck.
dick palmed your cock as you writhed, bent under him, moaned around peter’s long cock. he gathered all of his strength left to tickle you deep, to reach inside of you with his cock, breathless and panting with every thrust that rocked the two of you together—three, when peter fucked into your mouth.
this was so much fucking better.
“holy shit-“ under dick’s touch, you came hard in several thick ropes, all over his fist, and then the sweat of your body when he opened his palm. you were a natural shooter, accidentally spraying your face with your own thick semen, and you heard peter and dick moan in unison, in awe.
seeing you dressed in cum like this had them race each other to their climax. dick fucked you harder, his grasp on your hips bruising and white, while peter held onto your head and met your throat with his cock, repeatedly forceful in strength. you gagged around him, and they only benefitted from every sound you made.
“fuck, i’m going to-“ you watched peter’s abs flexed, tightened as his stomach pooled with pleasure, and you can hear the holy bells ring when he pulled out of your mouth, jerking his wet and slimy cock off until he came undone in thick spurts, all over your pretty face. not a single shot was missed, painting you in white like a canvas with every last drop.
you were still high off of your own orgasm, and you turned your head to watch dick fuck himself into you, clearly wonder-strucked by the scene before him. you were covered in cum all over. they beckoned him to join, the many loads on your body. they were begging now, a mantra of pleas pulled him closer to you, and he can smell the sex off of you, inhaled peter’s musk as well, and again—those holy bells rang.
with the speed of lightning, dick pulled himself out of your abused hole and climbed over to kneel over your chest, fucking into his fist while simultaneously jerking his cock off over your face. to your cum-covered body, to peter kissing his spunk off your cheek and chin then your lips, to the taste of your own cum when you swiped a load off your chest and fed it into dick’s mouth. he suckled, bittersweet salt spread over his tongue, and he was ravished by the taste of you.
dick then pushed his hips out and aimed his cock over your lips, still connected to peter’s for a messy kiss, stroking until the only reason he tore his gaze away was because his lids fell heavy, ceased his sight to roll his eyes back, and came with a shudder. thick ropes of cum inked on your face and peter’s, but most of it fell to your connected lips.
“fuck, that’s hot…” dick muttered, rolling his shoulders back while he milked himself to you and peter making out, cum-stained and all. you moaned at the taste, saltier than yours and peter’s, and peter does the same while scraping a load of warm cum from the corner of your cheek and into his mouth before kissing you again, swapping the gloopy residue with a sloppy exchange of tongues.
he was envious, watching how the sticky load caught onto your lips then peter’s when he squeezed himself dry. before you and peter could take all of his cum for yourself, he leaned down to join peter for a kiss, stealing the mound of cum that peter has expertly hidden on his tongue. dick didn’t know who he was tasting anymore. but whether it was you, peter, or himself, it was delectable, and he wanted to share the delightful taste with you. he spat the mixture of cum and spit inside of your mouth before webbing his lips to yours, sealing it with one final breathless kiss.
“so, are lessons still on for next week or?” peter lay by your side, and dick joined the other, still dizzied from his high as telling by his shut eyes and drawn out pants.
“i mean… i’m still up for it if you guys are?” you said, leaning over to press a kiss to peter’s cheek. you took his smile as an answer and looked to dick for his.
“mm... yeah.” dick sleepily opened his eyes, his locks stuck to his sweaty forehead while he buried himself under the blanket. you felt his arms wrap around your waist once he got comfortable, muttering a kiss to your shoulder before dozing off.
“we’re good teachers, pete.
nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!
#dick grayson x reader#peter parker x reader#dick grayson x male reader#peter parker x male reader#dick grayson smut#peter parker smut#nou.fics
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enjoy the silence
summary: your usually quiet self becomes unusually loud around your boyfriend so you want him to make you shut up 👀 pairing: chan x reader genre: smut with hints of angst warnings: silence kink, insecurities, swearing, healthy communication 🥰 belt, fingering, eating out, overstimulation, piv sex, safeword used, pre-discussed scenario, dirty talk, pet names, kissing, overthinking, they're just idiots in love, your honour 😔 word count: 1.5k
You are generally perceived as the "quiet one" among your friends. Always the listener, never the talker. Honestly, you are more than okay with it. Most of the time, you can't think of a funny or interesting thing to say so you keep to yourself. And you genuinely enjoy hearing about your loved ones' days, even if you are not the best at responding with something witty. Some of them say one of the things that they like about you is that you don't give unnecessary advice but offer your support which is more than enough in certain situations.
All of that changes when you meet Chan. He makes you feel so comfortable that you open up without realizing. Sometimes you would babble for hours and he would let you. In most contexts, you would overthink your answer and end up not saying anything. But when you are with him, you don't have to think. You just freely say whatever is on your mind and are met with acceptance. It is like he unlocked a new part of you that you didn't even know existed.
One evening, you are out having dinner with Chan, and you are excitedly telling him about what you did today, what you ate, where you went, what outfit you wore and all the silly details you normally keep inside. He smiles at you adoringly, adding "Really?" and "That sounds nice" every now and then.
You are genuinely having a lovely time when you overhear a remark coming from the table nearby.
"Ugh, does that woman ever shut up? That poor guy..."
"I know, right? Must be so annoying..."
You immediately stop talking and gulp nervously. They must be talking about you. Were you really that loud?
"Let's go home," you say in a quiet voice.
Chan doesn't question it, he just gets the bill and you two make your way out of the restaurant. He drives you home in complete silence and when you are inside the apartment, he finally breaks the quiet spell.
"What's wrong, sweetheart? You didn't even finish your meal..."
"N-nothing, I'm f-fine," you try to lie but your voice breaks.
"Tell me, please," Chan urges you to trust him with your concerns.
"Channie, do I talk too much?" you ask.
"Oh, so you heard those assholes, as well..."
"So...do I?"
"I seriously love hearing you talk, okay? I've seen how quiet you get around your friends and I am glad you feel safe enough to share all these stuff with me. And to be fair, it's kind of a relief, after a long day of me doing a lot of talking, I get to listen to you. These people at the restaurant were just jealous that no one wants to hear their nasty voices."
That makes you laugh and you bury your head in his chest, enveloping him in a hug.
"Don't you ever get tired? Don't you wish to shut me up?" you want to know.
"Where is this coming from? Forget about these fuckers..."
"Not in general. Don't you want to make me stop talking in bed?" you suggest boldly.
"Oh. It hasn't crossed my mind. Is that something you'd like to explore?"
"As long as it's with you, yes."
"With nobody else?" Chan runs a finger across your cheek.
"Nope, never," you admit.
"Well, I'll see what I can do about that."
Chan looks really tired from work and you probably shouldn't push his buttons right now of all times. But you really want to see him snap. Empowered by your previous discussions of this particular scenario, you decide to give it a shot. If he's not in the mood, you'll just drop it and let him rest. But if he's in...may the universe have mercy on you.
"So I told her, no, I don't want to get drinks for everyone, Susan, 'cause you never pay me back and you always treat me like a minion and then she said-"
Chan sighs deeply because you've told this story like three times already but doesn't interrupt you. Okay, he really appears exhausted, maybe this was a terrible idea.
"Tell me to shut up," you beg him at this point.
"Huh?" he blinks somewhat confused.
"I'm obviously being super loud and you're tired. So, make me shut up and take it out on me. Please?"
Realizing where you're going with this, Chan nods and the exhaustion suddenly disappears from his eyes. His gaze is now on fire as he squishes your cheeks with one hand and pushes you against the wall.
"As long you're begging," he smirks cruelly and kisses you.
Oh dear. He's never kissed you like this, so roughly and fervently, teeth clashing against yours, biting your lips until it hurts. You cannot speak even if you wanted to, which you don't. Completely losing yourself to the feeling, you let him do as he pleases.
Chan grabs your wrist and pulls you towards the bedroom. He pins you under him on the bed and starts talking.
"Always so fuckin' loud, huh?"
You shake your head in disagreement. You can be quiet if he wants you to. You'd do anything if it makes him happy.
"Got nothing to say all of a sudden?" Chan teases you and starts taking off your clothes.
You lick your own lips hesitantly but don't dare say a word. Seeing him like this is so unexpected but you can't get enough of it.
"What got you so shy, hm? I thought you loved yapping to me. All. Day. Long."
The way he enunciates each word would make anyone else think he was genuinely annoyed by it. But you know your Channie. You know that he wouldn't hurt you. Not unless you asked him to.
"Talk to me, baby, yeah? Why aren't you saying anything?" he asks while he's unbuckling his belt.
You refuse to speak and he takes it as a sign to continue. He smacks the bed with his belt and the action is so startling you unvoluntarily flinch as if you were the one hit.
"Are you going to speak or do you want me to force the words out of you?"
Oh, so he's going to use your own weapon against you? Very well, then. Two can play at that game. Let's see who folds first.
Chan takes the task very seriously and does everything he can think of to make you talk again.
"Come on, sweetheart, doesn't this feel good?" he keeps asking as his big fingers stretch you out deliciously. Yes, it feels amazing, but you are so stubborn you say nothing.
"Not even a moan? You're crazy," he laughs but doesn't give up.
He eats you out longer than you've ever thought humanly possible, making you cum over and over again. But you still hold on, fingers gripping the sheets and teeth biting the inside of your cheek.
"Was this okay?" Chan needs to know and you swear you see his eyes watering with emotion, begging to be praised for his otherworldly skills, but not even that can make you speak.
You give him a noncomittal nod, which obviously makes him even more competitive.
Finally, he thrusts into you so deeply, so overwhelmingly that it takes every ounce of willpower for you to not break. His hard cock inside you, his strong arms wrapped around you, his smooth voice talking to you, his beautiful eyes gazing at yours. It's too much, yet never enough. You want to tell him so many things. How much he means to you, how grateful you are for him, how happy he makes you, how-
"Be honest, do you hate me?" Chan interrupts your affectionate thoughts out of nowhere.
Huh? Where the fuck is this coming from?
"P-pineapple," you break your silence by saying the pre-established safeword because there is no way you could continue enjoying yourself and each other without unpacking this.
Oh, no. Chan just wanted to hear you speak again, but not like this.
"What's wrong? Did I hurt you?" he immediately asks in concern and stops his movements.
"Did you hurt me?" you answer sarcastically. "Did I hurt you? Why would you ask me if I hate you while literally inside of me, are you serious right now?"
"I was just wondering," he pouts adorably, "you weren't talking to me for so long, I thought you were mad at me or something."
"I wasn't speaking because that was part of the scenario we talked about! Of course, I love you, you big idiot! How could you possibly ask that?"
Chan smiles fondly and gives you a soft kiss.
"I love you, too," he giggles. "So, you're not hurt? We can keep going?"
"No, I'm fine. Yes, we can, I just said the safeword because I can't have you thinking I hate you under no circumstances. You're everything to me, okay?"
"Okay," Chan agrees easily. "But can I ask for something?"
"Sure, what's up?"
"Please never shut up for real, baby. No matter how tired I may look, I love hearing about your day."
"I know. The same goes for you, yeah? You don't have to keep everything in, alright? I'll always listen to you. Whenever and whatever you want to say, I'm here for you."
"Oh, really? You'll be my good girl and listen? You'd do what I like?" Chan raises an eyebrow and you long to see what kind of demon you've unleashed.
"For you? I'd do anything," you promise.
"Then no more silence. I wanna hear you scream for me."
The End
#bang chan x reader#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#stray kids smut#bang chan smut#chan x reader#chan smut#stray kids imagines#stray kids angst#stray kids fanfic#skz scenarios#stray kids#chan#writing
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And I don't even like you that much!
Wait…, I do…, fuck
(Black myth wukongs head-canons)
Author note: hi!, I’m not that use to writing and English is not exactly my first language so there might be a lot of spelling mistakes.
And this is my first time writing for Sun wukong (Black myth) so he might not seem in character, if that makes sense. Either way I hope you enjoy!
★ ✵ ★
Assuming you two are already dating, and he’s comfy around you, please prepare for some chaotic moments.
Not a single Moment is dry nor empty with this mischievous monkey.
From spooking you with a clone of himself, or annoying your with one of his many transformations, he never runs out of ideas to surprise you with.
That being said, he is a bit laid back now depending on what period you’re dating him. After the events of journey to the west, he is way more calmer then his “younger” self.
He enjoys the simplicity of day to day activities now, cuddling, cleaning up a small section in which you both share. Or laying out under a tree with you as you read to him.
Those small moments mean much more to him now.
He loves to pridefully declare his fearlessness and having no such thing as “a biggest fear”. But at night that’s quickly disproven, sometimes he uncharacteristically sits in silence. Mind making up fake scenarios of your demise that could have been caused by him, his reputation, his enemies. He has a silent vow to himself to protect you first with his immortal life, no matter the cost and punishment he may endure.
An uncomfortable fear of having something of value so precious, so fragile is almost to much to handle. He doesn’t look down upon you mortal or not, but he will still fret for your safety. He’s so tired of losing things he holds dear, and after not having that feeling for centuries before you came along, he almost gets so wrapped up in the possibility of losing you, he loses sight that he has you right now.
He loves picking you up at random times, doesn’t need to be a situation where you need to be picked up he’ll just do it. No matter height or weight he loves seeing you shocked and giggling.
His most sensitive parts are definitely his tail and ears, maybe his nose too. If you kiss him from ear all across his cheek to his nose, he swears all his immortal lives end there from how his hearts pumping.
He does plan on marrying you, makes it very vocal too in the beginning to make sure you know what your committing to.
Loves when you comb and pick at his fur, don’t even get started on complementing it. He’ll easily sit between your legs for hours as you comb through the top of his head, getting rid of knots and such.
He wraps his tail absentmindedly when you stand near him. He doesn’t really even acknowledge it happening, it usually wraps around your ankle or thigh Or lazily around your hips.
Watches you as you sleep, not even in a creepy way he just has to take time to appreciate you for just your mere existence.
Spoils you with fruits, peaches especially of course, but he mixes it up here to there. Sometimes he just comes waltzing in with buckets if not wagons of ripe fruit from different regions.
When you hurriedly say you cannot eat that much before they wither, he’ll just laugh. Because he knows he can so whatever you leave over he finishes it off happily. But if your generous your free to share with the other demon monkeys on the island.
He likes carrying you in his arms while he rides his nimbus cloud.
You can point to random spots and he’ll happily zoom on over there to let you explore. Of course with him trailing closely behind you.
(I’m aware that in most tellings of journey to the west they say picking up a mortal from the ground is almost impossible, but I’m gonna dismiss that. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°))
He likes lounging around with you on slow afternoon’s cuddling and engorging in different types of luxuries.
He loves taking you to hot springs, and enjoying time there together relaxing. That or a near by waterfall he frequents.
If he sees something you may like he just snatches it, doesn’t really matter to him where he took it, half of the time he doesn’t know himself. As long as it is worthy to be appreciated by you.
He takes naps on you, just asks you to lay down and then lays on your chest or stomach and falls into a comatose state for a good while.
★ ✵ ★
That’s all I have for right now, I hope these were enjoyable to read!.
( ⸝⸝•ᴗ•⸝⸝ )੭⁾⁾
#x reader#black myth wukong#sun wukong x reader#jttw sun wukong#general headcanons#romantic headcanons#first writing#i hope you like it#sorry for poor spelling#sun wukong#x reader headcanons#wukong x reader#sun wukong x y/n#wukong x y/n#x you#x y/n#jttw
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confectionary clash - carmen berzatto
pairing: carmen berzatto x afab!reader (established relationship)
summary: carmy's girl is the human embodiment of a sweetheart. that is, unless it's that time of the month and richie provokes her.
wordcount: 3.2k
warnings: swearing, fighting, weaponized incompetence from richie but we still love him.
a/n: this was meant to be a drabble but turned into 3k words. so it's written kinda like a drabble?? (hence the lowercase i can't be arsed to change) but just... long. idk hopefully its entertaining. also, i don't mean to demonize richie, he's my favorite character i think,, i just love writing him as problematic lmao cuz he's so funny. anyways, enjoy!
as carmy’s confidant and girlfriend, you were always the voice of reason. with just a string of words, you’d be calming him down after a hectic work day, giving him a fresh perspective on his work dilemmas since you were outside of the restaurant circle. in the time he’s known you, he hadn’t seen you do as much as barely raise your voice. maybe the occasional snap, but you always follow it up with swift apologies and big watery eyes.
that is, unless you’re in pain. specifically cramps. the sight of you 180ing from a sweet girl with a bright smile and even sweeter words, to an evil sorceress with spells rolling off your tongue, inflicting curses onto anyone who irritates you is jarring. a bit dramatic, sure, but that’s what you were during that time of the month—dramatic.
carmy tries best to dote on you. you would never ask him to go out of his way for something, unless it’s grabbing a heating pad or water, but carmy wants you to. it takes prying to hear your desires and cravings after asking a million times, and you begrudgingly give in with no expectations. nevertheless, you end up with exactly what you asked for, or something close to it, and you’re endlessly grateful.
on days when you stop into the restaurant when you’re feeling down, carmy enacts this same routine. if it’s food, he’ll cook it for you; desserts, he’ll grab any extras marcus has (or marcus happily makes it from scratch if they're not busy, claiming he needs the practice). if you want snacks, he sends his right hand man richie out to grab them despite your protests.
richie does it often whenever you stop into the store, and he acts like it’s a chore sometimes, but everyone has a hunch that he really loves it. come on, twenty dollars to get a few items for you and pocket the rest for himself? plus a break from work? done deal.
richie wouldn’t admit it, but he liked taking care of you too. you were always a sweetheart to him, but it wasn’t in his personality to be as sincere as you, so this was a little act of service to show his love. besides, the year and a half you’ve known him has definitely earned you the title of a friend, and you’d agree.
now, you don’t ever want to seem ungrateful, but when you ask for a specific treat, you get disappointed when you don’t really get it. maybe it’s the fluctuating mood talking, but you always end up snapping at richie due to his poor choices. if you ask for one thing, he’ll get you the next, and you even suspect he does it on purpose sometimes. pulling reactions from people is his specialty.
it’s not like you’re a complete bitch about it, because he took his time out to go get you something, but richie has a problem with weaponized competence even with his new and improved attitude. you know he can get you the jolly ranchers you suggested, but he chooses to grab goldfish because it’s closer to checkout. it was annoying, but you never really brought it up to carmy. it's not like you needed to, it wasn't a huge deal. you figured richie could use the little break, and you don’t hate the snacks he brings.
except on days like this.
you were at the restaurant on a slow day, dragged yourself out of bed despite your cramps just to see your little grumpy boyfriend and hide in his office. even as you entered the establishment through the back you glared at richie (who sweetly waved) in passing, side eyeing a few of the newbies who ran in front of you despite their apologies. none of your usual bright smiles and cheery greetings. the bee line straight to the office was a clear enough explanation for how you were feeling.
upon entering, carmy looked up in a panic, which quickly melted into a soft smile at the sight of his girlfriend. “hey, baby.” he cooed softly, immediately scooting back from his desk to reach out to grasp at your waist. you let him, but pushed down the irritation, not favoring touch at the moment. however, his rough hands sliding a little under your shirt to grasp at the flesh of your hips calmed you down, earning a small quirk of the lips from you.
“whatcha doin’ here, love?” he asks, bringing one of your hands to his lips to kiss softly, still looking up at you.
you shrug, squeezing his hand, face a bit stoic. you’d been like this for a couple of days so he wasn’t surprised by your lack of friendliness. knowing you this long, carmy became accustomed to your monthly mood swings, and he felt privileged that you didn’t feel the need to put up an act for him.
“missed you.” you finally sighed, scooting closer so you stood between his knees. palms found both sides of carmy’s face and tilted it upwards a bit so you could study his appearance. stressed and tired. however, he seemed to glow at the mere admission of you missing him. it took a few seconds for his brain to rewire, looking up at you like you created the cosmos. the only reason you heard his soft, shy, ‘missed you too’ was because of the stagnant silence.
“hungry?” carmy asked, beaming from the attention. you shrugged again, allowing him to tighten his grip on your sides and tug you onto his lap. whining a bit in protest, you reposition yourself, legs falling over his lap and arms around his neck. your faces were closer now, and carmy looked at your sad eyes with a little pang in his chest. brows furrowing, he tilted his head and snuck a hand under your chin. long, tattooed fingers tickled at your chin, and before you knew it you were giggling and grinning while batting his hand away.
“cmon, i know you must want somethin’.” your grin was infectious and laced in his soft words. you hummed, already cheered up, and tapped a finger against your chin to make a thinking face. carmy chuckled, brushing a lock of hair away from your eyes and patiently waited.
a thought crossed your mind and you met gazes again. “i might go grab some little debbie snacks from around the corner.” you decided and nodded to yourself as if solidifying your decision.
as you started sitting up more, carmy’s grip tightened on your waist. “ah, ah, no. stay here.” he protested. soon enough he was calling out ‘cousin!’ and richie came bounding over, opening the office door.
richie’s face used to contort in disgust at any visual sign of affection exchanged between you and carmy, but he was used to it now. “what’s up, cousin?” he asked, almost seeming out of breath, eyes flickering between the both of you.
a short exchange between the two occurred: carmy asking richie to run to the corner store, handing richie a twenty, and richie asking you precisely what you wanted. you made it simple and easy, something he could remember: oreos and ho-hos, a midwestern's guilty pleasure.
“ight, cap’n, i’ll be back.” richie says, saluting you two before heading out. both you and carmy exchanged an amused smirk, knowing the only reason richie went was to get himself some cigarettes and hot fries he would scarf down on the walk back.
__
in the twenty minutes richie was gone, the kitchen had gone to shit. the newbies had been running the wrong food to tables, online orders were filling the tablet nonstop due to a discount glitch, and carmy was close to losing it. sitting in the office, now alone with the muffled sound of your boyfriend yelling, you were more grumpy than before. arms crossed, you snapped your head to the side once the door creaked open. in walked richie with a plastic bag, inside of it holding your hope for a better day.
"what took you so long?" you frowned up at him, but sat up straighter in anticipation. you eyes almost shone as you looked at corner store logo on the bag.
"went the long way." he mumbled, digging in the plasic. the skeptical look on your face didn't leave as he pulled out an item and set it on the table. your frown deepened further as you noticed there was nothing at all you asked for, only met with a crushed sleeve of crackers.
“where are the oreos?” you sighed out, lips pursed in a bit of a pout.
“didn’t find any, so i got you some peanut butter crackers.” he mumbled, digging around the bag again, as if he didn’t just break your heart. if it was anyone else you'd believe them, but with richie you figured he just got bored of looking.
your jaw fell slack and you gaped like a fish for a moment, waiting for him to pull out more treats from his bag. but that time didn’t come, as he fished a pack of cigarettes out instead. “and the ho-ho’s?” your voice was hopeful.
richie perked up at that, putting the cigarettes down next to the crackers. the next second he presented you with a smushed mountain of brown and white concealed in a plastic wrapper sitting atop the palm of his hand. eyes flicking between the disappointment before you and his face, you frowned in disbelief.
richie only managed to emote as much as a ‘yikes’ face before placing it on the desk. “got smushed in transit, but tastes the same!” he gave his best attempt at a smile. your brows grew taut together and anger bubbled up in your chest. you were sure your face was quickly turning red.
“carmy gave you twenty dollars, and you come back with this?!” you hiss out, daring to look at the dry crackers and smushed up dream of a ho-ho. the sight only made you become angrier. this was something a senile old person would give you, not a competent 40-something-year-old man. his lack of care was clear, and you were boiling.
richie just scoffed—he had the nerve to scoff.
“no, not just that! i got a sprite and a few pack of cigs for myself and the guy.” he waved around one of them to prove his point. if you thought you were mad before, you reached a new level of anger. usually, you’d deal with the disappointment and thank richie for even going—aside from a smart alec remark.
however, the demon conducting your period for this month did not make your rational decisions seem clear nor enticing. as you shot up from carmy’s chair, you only knew you wanted to make richie as upset as you were in this moment.
with one finger poking his chest, you began raising your voice. as soon as you started talking, richie's eyes turned wide as saucers, exactly like a deer in headlights. a string of curses snuck into your tirade, between phrases such as “you always fucking do this richie!” and “are you fuckin’ dumb?! did you get dropped on your head?!”. you only figured he didn't fire back right away because he was so stunned.
outside of the office, the kitchen was calmer now. things were finally falling into order but still required carmy’s supervision until the sudden rush ended. the only disturbance was you. now, it was your voice yelling behind closed doors and not carmy’s.
the chef—in the middle of helping sydney plate a dish—just about gave himself whiplash with how fast he turned around to look at the barely cracked door of the office. there was the telltale muffled yelling, but what shocked him was it was clearly you yelling.
turning back around, carmy gawked at sydney who silently shared the same look of surprise. it was only until they heard richie start yelling back that sydney silently pushed him toward the door. it didn’t take more than a second for carmy to snap out of his surprise and march over to the office.
throwing the hand towel he was using over his shoulder, he yanked the heavy door open before all but body slamming his way into the room and slamming the door closed. the yelling was suddenly clear, as if carmy was being pulled out from underwater.
“YOU GET ME WHAT I ASKED YOU, OR GET ME NOTHING AT ALL!”
“THEN YOU’D BITCH ABOUT THAT TOO—“
“OR NOTHING AT ALL!”
“hey, hey, HEY!” the two of you were too busy at each others throats to even hear carmy enter, until his voice brought you both to a halt, heads turning towards him.
carmy’s eyes were immediately glued to you, not paying the least bit of attention to richie. your arms were stiff as boards to your sides, fists and jaw clenched, brows taut, and race beet red. the man had never seen you look like this before, and his instinct to comfort you took over. turning to richie with a look that could kill, carmy finally spoke. “what did you do?”
“what did i do?! except take precious time to get your girl shit she didn’t even want?!”
an offended gasp left your mouth, and you retorted instantly. “oh please! because a crushed up sleeve of crackers and a mountain of mushed up cake is just what i asked for!”
“you’re ungrateful.” richie pointed a finger at you now. carmy launched forward and slapped it down. he knew richie would never hurt you, and you knew it too, as you just rolled your eyes in response, but carmy’s instinct’s took over. richie didn’t even look phased, just irritated. carmy stood in front of you and forcefully turned richie around by his shoulders to send him to the door. if carmy didn't have half of a sane mind, he would’ve kicked richie's bottom with his shoe for good measure.
“go take a break chef! or do whatever the fuck, i don’t care.” carmy shouted after richie, and the man left with a slam of the door.
you simply watched the scene unfold with arms crossed and that same deep set frown. carmy turned around to face you as the air settled, a hand running through his hair. blue eyes raked over your tense form and carmy decided he would give you a little space to calm down. however, the second he saw your bottom lip wobbling and eyes grow watery he threw that thought to the wind
“hey, no, no, don’t cry.” carmy extended his arms and collected you into them. the tense posture you held relaxed into his slouched form as he held you close; one hand in your hair, and the other rubbing circles on your back as you sniffled.
a pit of guilt burned in your stomach and spurred you into attempting to bury yourself into carmy. blue straps of his apron rubbed against your cheek as you shuffled impossibly closer. usually, carmy would love this, but right now he'd do anything to not see you so out of it. shushing you, he pressed a kiss to your forehead.
there were a few beats of you hiding away before you decided to pull back a bit to face him again—and boy did you look pitiful.
the same cheeks previously bright with anger were now flush with embarrassment and stained with tears. a tattooed hand found itself sitting on your cheek, thumb rubbing under your eye to collect a fallen tear. at the touch, your eyes fluttered closed, and carmy’s heart broke at the sight.
“you gonna tell me what happened?” your boyfriend asked, trying not to make you feel even more guilty. his full attention was on you. exhaling slowly, your eyes fluttered back open and were met with those bright blue ones that always calmed you down.
“i dunno, i just-“ you shook your head and carmy waited patiently, “it wasn’t even a big deal, but richie just really set me off for some reason.”
“yeah, may as well join the club.” carmen’s words were light, not at all sarcastic, but aiming to ease you and bring out a smile. it worked, your lips turning upwards and carmy mimicking the half smile. he looked down at you with such love, head tilted to follow every time yours moved, and thumb caressing your cheek as he took in every expression.
your smile finally faltered as you glanced back at the office desk. “i feel so awful. he went out and got me stuff and i just yelled at him.” you sputter out.
carmy followed your gaze over his shoulder to finally see what started all of this. at the sight of the crackers and ball of what looked like mush, carmy scoffs in both disbelief and amusement, because of course richie would bring you that. turning back towards you, the chef finally gets it.
“baby, if someone brought me that shit while my insides were shedding i’d kill them.” he chuckled.
“really?” you asked hopefully, smile forming again.
“yes, really. even if i wasn’t goin’ through that i’d actually kick his ass.” carmy mirrored your smile.
nodding, you let yourself chuckle along with him. strong arms found you again and you were wrapped in a tight hug, allowing his squeezes to take away some guilt you were feeling. a moment passed and you knew carmy had to get back to work. with a sigh, you pulled back.
it was your turn to reach up and cup his cheek. guiding his face close, you met him halfway and pressed your lips to his in a kiss. lips moving against his, your noses brushed, and after a moment you let the kiss dissipate; lips slowly falling away from where they were molded together. one last peck was placed on carmy’s lips, as if saying, ‘thank you for being so attentive’. that earned an appreciate hum.
you both beamed, faces still close as you came back down to earth. “you gotta get back to work, and i gotta apologize.” you murmured and carmy nodded obediently.
with apprehension, carmy let you go, arms floating in the air for half a second as he walked backwards towards the door. “don’t go easy on him, though. richie lives for a fight. that was probably his anger management for the day.” carmy smirked, grasping the doorknob.
you just shook your head, eyes narrowed teasingly. before he turned to leave, you called out to him. “thank you, carmy.”
the man just gave you a confused look, chuckling. “don’t thank me, you're my girl.” with that he was back to work and you were left to your own devices. with one more glance at the monstrosity on the office desk, you left the room and went on a search for richie.
thirty minutes later, carmy was due for a smoke break and approached the back door. he slowed his tracks, lighter and cigarette in hand as he cracked the door and heard giggling. the sight before him was drastically different than before: you and richie sitting on a ledge next to each other, giggling and bumping shoulders. carmy breathed out a laugh at the sight and fully walked out. this caught both of your attention, grinning ear to ear as you clearly made up.
“hey, cousin!” richie grinned, and you both waved. figures.
#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto#the bear#the bear imagine#carmy berzatto imagine#x reader#carmen berzatto imagine
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