#Single Review: Moment of Silence | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

libraryofgage · 1 year

Text

Addams Family Steddie AU Part 3

Part One | Part Two

To preface, a bitch is sick rn so if you see any typos, no you didn't lol

"Robin, this is serious."

Steve can perfectly see Robin rolling her eyes through the phone as she says, "Oh, right, I'm so sorry your fiance-to-be is the perfect boyfriend who takes you on wonderful dates and romances you every single second you're together."

"I'm starting to think you're jealous."

"I'd only be jealous if Eddie had tits."

"He'd probably get some if I asked."

In the silence that follows, Steve can imagine Robin's scrunched face: her crinkled nose and curled lips and generally disgusted eyebrow furrow. He counts down from six in his head and then mouths along as Robin says, "I'd hang up if I weren't so invested in your love life."

"For someone so invested, you're not helping."

He hears a put-upon sigh through the speaker and returns it with a sigh of his own. Steve gives up on sitting properly and collapses back onto his bed, staring at the unmoving ceiling fan Hulyet is currently hanging from to nap.

"Fine, fine, what's the actual problem again?" Robin asks, her question followed by the sound of her shutting a book (one of her science textbooks based on the sound it makes when closing) so she can give Steve her full attention.

"Eddie is always planning our dates, and they're always really good, right? So I want to plan a date in return, but I have no clue how to plan something we'll both equally enjoy. In fact, I have no clue how Eddie plans our dates in the first place."

"Just start with something he likes and try to find something you'll like in it."

"Okay, say it again, but pretend I'm five."

Robin sighs again, and Steve hears the creaking of her bed as she collapses onto it. "Okay, the last date he planned, it was a hockey game, right?"

"Yeah."

"So, you like sports. Hockey is an obvious jump from there, but was Eddie also having fun at the game?"

Steve hums, reviewing their date from the week before. He hadn't expected Eddie to pull out hockey tickets, but he'd looked forward to it nonetheless. The game itself was fun, and the rink was cold enough that Steve had been able to scoot closer to Eddie and complain about being chilly.

Of course, Eddie's immediate response was to pull out a lighter, open it, and flick a flame to life while asking, "How big of a fire do you want, Stevie?"

For a brief moment, Steve had considered the question. But then he'd realized a fire would disrupt the hockey game, so they probably shouldn't start one.

After grabbing the lighter and stuffing it into his own pocket, Steve leaned closer and whispered, "Wouldn't you rather put your arm around me?" Eddie had lit up, and his smile was wide enough to make Steve feel blinded as he wrapped an arm around Steve's waist and pulled him closer.

It had been wonderful and romantic, right up until both of them got way too into the game and completely forgot about cuddling in favor of shouting at the players to hit harder and actually draw some blood to get the puck.

Steve smiles a little at the memory. "Yeah, he enjoyed the violence."

"Well, we all enjoy seeing buff people get a little bloody," Robin says, and Steve can see the way she's nodding like a wise man. "Anyway, he probably knew he'd enjoy the whole violence part of the sport. So, follow that formula."

"What formula are you seeing here?"

"Thing fiance-to-be likes plus a small part of it you could probably enjoy equals romance. If that's too hard, just get him a gift and plan the date around that."

Well, it sounds easy when she says it like that. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Because I'm the genius here, obviously. Now go plan a date so you can tell me all about it later. And I expect details, Steven. Sordid details. If I'm not quivering in my bodice, what's the fucking point."

"You don't even have a bodice. And my name isn't Steven."

"I'll get one, and your name is whatever's comedically appropriate."

"I found a good website for bodices and corsets, actually. I can send it to you."

"What are you doing on that website, Steve?" Robin asks, her voice light and eager.

Steve smirks, pulling the phone away from his ear and saying, "Wouldn't you like to know," before quickly hanging up. The phone stays silent for three whole seconds before Robin immediately calls back, but Steve is too busy laughing to actually pick up.

Part of why the Munsons moved to Steve's neighborhood is the cemetery within walking distance. The cemetery is at the very back of the neighborhood, hidden from people who don't actually live there. The front of the cemetery is perfectly presentable. The gravestones are clean and new, and flowers decorate most graves while others hold pebbles and stones of various sizes and colors.

The back of the cemetery, however, is a Munson paradise. The grass gives way to brown, under-watered weeds and dirt, the faded gravestones are covered in moss and plants climbing them, and the trees are perpetually leafless and spindly to create the perfect horror movie atmosphere. It was like that even before the Munsons moved to the neighborhood, but Steve doesn't actually know why.

The back of the cemetery is where Steve leads Eddie, occasionally looking back to make sure the blindfold covering Eddie's eyes is still in place. "You know, I was expecting more than walking when you pulled out the blindfold," Eddie says, squeezing Steve's hand.

"We're almost there," Steve promises, looking around them until he spots the picnic blanket and pillows he'd laid down earlier in front of a blank gravestone. There's a small projector on the edge of the blanket, facing the wall of a mausoleum, with a DVD player connected to it.

Steve stops at the edge of the blanket, takes a deep breath, and moves to stand in front of Eddie. "Okay," he says, reaching up and carefully pulling off the blindfold.

When it comes off, Eddie looks straight at Steve, not sparing a glance at the set-up behind him. "Are you the surprise?" he asks, sliding his hands around Steve's hips and pulling him closer.

"I'm not much of a surprise," Steve points out.

"You're the best gift I could ask for," Eddie says, sealing the words with a kiss that would be too easy for Steve to get lost in.

And he almost does, but he pulls away before Eddie's tongue can get too far into his mouth. "No, wait, you haven't seen the actual surprise," he mumbles, putting a few inches between them and gesturing to the picnic blanket.

Eddie's eyes light up, and he pulls Steve to the blanket. He sits against the headstone and tugs Steve down next to him. "Movie date in a graveyard? Very romantic, sweetheart," Eddie says, leaning close and kissing Steve's jaw.

"Well, that's not the whole surprise," Steve replies, leaning his head on Eddie's shoulder. He hears a quiet hum from above him and adds, "This is our spot."

"What? Like a make-out spot? We gonna sneak out in the middle of the night to make out right here twice a week?"

"Only twice?" Steve asks, his voice teasing as he tilts his head back to see Eddie smile. He doesn't give Eddie the chance to answer, though. Instead, he takes Eddie's hand and plays with his engaged-to-be-engaged ring. "I mean, this is our spot. We're leaning on our gravestone."

A few seconds pass before Eddie seems to actually process the words. When he does, he straightens up, tugging Steve away from the gravestone with him so he can see it. "Is this...a couple's plot?" he asks, his eyes wide as he looks from the stone to Steve.

Steve flushes, heat rising in his cheeks as he looks away. He takes a deep breath, deciding to just verbalize his thought process when he'd bought the plot. "I figured, well, we wouldn't want to be apart even in death. So we'll be buried together, you know? Our corpses will be embracing as we rot for eternity, becoming skeletons and dust that will only know each other."

The words are followed by silence, making Steve wonder if he somehow fucked up with his gift. He braces himself and glances up at Eddie to ask if he doesn't like it only to be pushed back on the blanket. Steve blinks, his brain barely catching up as Eddie kisses him. This is, by far, the most desperate kiss Steve has ever received from Eddie. It's a kiss that's practically begging Steve to give Eddie permission to swallow him whole, tuck him securely into the marrow of his bones, and hold him there so they'll never be apart.

Steve is a little confused, but he's far more interested in kissing back, sliding his fingers into Eddie's hair and tugging playfully as he bites Eddie's tongue. A rough growl in response sends shivers down Steve's spine, goosebumps spreading across his arms as Eddie pushes his hands under Steve's shirt.

Surprisingly warm fingers trail across Steve's abdomen before Eddie's hands settle on his hips, his pinkies teasingly pushing past the waistband of his jeans. Steve sighs softly, relaxing at the familiar sensation as he hooks one of his legs over Eddie's waist, pulling him close until their hips and chests are flush against each other.

Eddie grins against Steve's lips, his left hand trailing down Steve's waist to rest on his thigh, holding it in place as he teasingly grinds their hips together. Steve jolts, a surprised, quiet moan escaping him as his hands start to tremble with adrenaline and...well, sheer horniness if he's being honest.

"Please tell me we can fuck on our future grave," Eddie says, his voice low and husky as he speaks against Steve's lips.

Steve groans, fully agreeable to the idea only to realize two very important things. One, he doesn't have any lube, and two, he was actually looking forward to watching movies with Eddie, which wouldn't really happen if they got too distracted. Plus, you know, the whole sex in public thing, but that's not as big of a deal. Who's going to be visiting the cemetery on a Wednesday?

But Steve doesn't want to completely dash Eddie's hopes and the sheer joy in his eyes at the idea, so he presses another kiss to his lips and promises, "Later, Eddie."

Despite his disappointed expression, Eddie doesn't argue. He just sits up, pulling Steve with him so he stays in his lap. "I'll hold you to that, sweetheart," he whispers, kissing down Steve's neck until he reaches the point where it meets his shoulder. He bites down there, causing Steve to inhale sharply as he licks and sucks a hickey onto his skin.

Steve shakily exhales, biting his bottom lip to keep himself grounded. When it feels like Eddie is about to start on another hickey, Steve uses his grip on his hair to pull him back. "Stevie," Eddie breathes, his eyes dark as he looks up at him, "you know what pulling does to me."

Steve snorts, kisses his cheek, and climbs off his lap. "Keep it in your pants for now, babe. I actually want to get to the other part of this date," he says, moving over to the projector.

"And what's that?" Eddie asks.

"Classic monster movies," Steve says, grinning at the excited gasp that comes from Eddie as he turns on the projector. Once it boots up, the mausoleum wall shows the opening menu for a Monster Movie Collection DVD. Steve puts on Frankenstein, making sure the movie actually starts and the opening credits begin rolling before climbing back into Eddie's lap.

"I love you so fucking much," Eddie says, wrapping his arms around Steve's waist and hugging him close as he rests his chin on Steve's shoulder.

Steve grins, leaning back against him and idly playing with one of the rings on Eddie's fingers. "I love you, too. Now shut up and watch the movie. No more making out until at least this one is over."

"Yes, sir."

Steve can't help a soft laugh. He takes Eddie's hand, raises it to his lips, and playfully bites his palm before lacing their fingers together and focusing on the movie.

Tag List: @estrellami-1, @justforthedead89, @starman-jpg, @abstractnaturaldisaster, @sugartin, @ashwagandalf, @xjessicafaithx, If anyone else wants to be tagged in potential future parts, just let me know!

#steddie #steddie fic #addams family steddie #addams! eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #platonic stobin #there's a reference to Addams Family Values in here #whoever notices it please know I love you #also #for anyone who was curious about that lol #this au has consumed me body and soul

1K notes · View notes

gravehags · 2 months

Text

the fabric of your flesh

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader), Cirrus x f!Reader x Cumulus

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

Tags: oh god where to begin, threesome, oral (m receiving), oral (f receiving), making out, serious relationship conversations, consensual infidelity, titty sucking, QUINT STRAP, masturbation, voyeurism, copia in the cuck chair, copia getting his balls slapped for being a little shit

Words: 7,300

Summary: You've always liked the ghoulettes. Maybe a little too much for your own good.

a/n: this fic takes place sometime after the events of sweet treat, a short little fic i wrote which sets the stage for the events of this piece. this is the longest single thing i've ever written so you know. enjoy lmao.

~~~

“Cardinal, what are your thoughts on sharing?”

Copia sets down the document he was reviewing and leans back in his chair, looking up at the ghoulette looming over his desk.

“It’s eh, a nice concept,” he says slowly, eyes flicking from Cirrus’ face to Cumulus seated behind her. “Is there something you…have in mind?”

“Your girl,” Cirrus says bluntly, and Cumulus yanks her backwards to sit in the chair next to her and give her a stern look. Copia’s eyebrows raise and he reaches up to stroke his mustache.

“What Cirrus was trying to say,” Cumulus begins, giving Cirrus another sideways glance, “is that we noticed there’s some um. Tension. Amongst us. And it’s not romantic,” she says in a rush, raising her hands placatingly when Copia opens his mouth, “we have no designs on her heart. That thoroughly belongs to you. What we mean is ah…more physical.”

A silence falls in the office as Copia watches his ghoulettes carefully while trying to fight back a smile.

“I see,” he says solemnly, leaning forward to steeple his hands, “have you discussed this with her?”

“We didn’t want to uh, step on any toes. So no. Not yet, anyway.”

He lets the silence simmer for a moment, watching Cirrus look around the room and Cumulus anxiously rub her hands. When he begins to laugh it makes both of them jump in their seats.

“Ladies,” he chuckles, “as if I haven’t seen your hungry eyes on her at every turn. I am very glad that you asked me for permission but the person you really need to speak to is her.”

A beat passes.

“So…is that a yes?” Cirrus asks, leaning forward.

“From me, sì. Under one condition, naturalmente.”

The ghoulettes look to one another.

“I get to watch.”

Cirrus snickers and Cumulus smiles.

“Oh that was a given, of course. But…you’re open to it?”

He smiles fondly at them.

“Sì, sì, I think it’s only fair to let her experience being with a woman or, eh. Women. Since she came to me untouched.”

“She what?!”

Once again he has to smother his laughter and instead looks at their gobsmacked faces kindly.

“Oh yes, you didn’t know? Despite her inexperience, however, she’s always been rather eh, voracious. And well…she’s not so inexperienced now I suppose, heh.” His eyes briefly unfocus as his mind conjures images of you in a litany of positions, eagerly and loudly taking him deep inside your–

Cumulus clears her throat politely.

“W-what…what were we talking about?”

“Your mate and her considerable sexual appetite,” Cirrus says wryly. Copia flushes deeply and fusses with his cassock, ignoring the bulge in his lap currently being hidden from view by his desk.

“Eh, right, right. Well as I said, this is ultimately her decision so uh, by all means. I think she’s working in the archives today.”

The ghoulettes stand and Cirrus gives him a slight bow before they turn to leave.

“Best of luck, my ghoulettes,” he calls to them as they walk out, surreptitiously adjusting himself. When the door shuts behind him he sags against the back of his chair.

This is going to prove interesting.

—

“Knock knock.”

You turn to look at the door and see two figures slip into the room - Copia’s ghoulettes, Cumulus and Cirrus. Your face splits in a smile - and your cheeks flush - as you wave the two in.

“Come on in, I’m just going through some of these old purchasing records for the collection. I–sorry, neither of you want to hear about this,” you say sheepishly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

Cirrus hops up to sit on one of the research tables while Cumulus leans on it next to her.

“We’d love to hear about it,” Cumulus murmurs.

You laugh. “You’re both very kind but not even Copia can listen to me talk about this kind of thing without nodding off no matter how hard he tries. I won’t subject you to it. How can I help you, though? Surely you didn’t come down here just to see me.”

“And if we did?” Cirrus purrs, leaning forward and putting her palms on her knees. Cumulus shoots her a sideways glance, lips tugging downwards in a slight frown.

There they are. Those butterflies ricocheting off the inside of your stomach every time you have an encounter with the two of them. The butterflies that make you sick if you allow yourself to linger on them. The butterflies that whisper accusations of infidelity in your ear.

“T-Then I’m sorry to disappoint you, ladies, for not being a more entertaining host.”

“Actually,” Cumulus says, her voice soft, “we wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Oh?” you’ve abandoned the stack of record books to fidget with your hands.

“Something um, personal.”

Cirrus hops down from the table and slowly begins to advance on you, lips curving into a smile that shows the points of her canines. It’s predatory and devious and utterly delicious and you’re terrified. She backs you against a bookcase and props her hand above your head, her breath stirring the flyaways on the side of your face.

“Cirrus!” Cumulus barks, “You’re freaking her out, knock it off!”

Cirrus whips around.

“What? I just figured the best way to get what we want is to show her what we want.”

“And w-what do you want?”

Your voice is small, your concentration mainly focused on how you’re going to explain this should any unexpected visitors walk in. Cirrus still looms above you but is pulled away roughly by Cumulus, giving you an opportunity to breathe once again.

“Angel,” the shorter ghoulette breathes and the pet name makes your knees wobble traitorously, “We had a conversation with the Cardinal earlier - about this thing going on between the three of us.”

“N-nothing’s going on,” you whisper, panicked. “What…what did you say to him?”

“This is going really well, ‘Lus” Cirrus groans, collapsing in a desk chair.

“Fuck,” Cumulus swears under her breath, “okay let’s back up. Start with the basics. We like you.”

“…I like you too.”

“Allow me to be more specific. We like you. As in we want you.”

Your mouth gapes but no words come out.

“As in,” Cirrus says, spinning in the chair, “as in we want to do filthy, unspeakable, unholy things to you. And don’t act surprised - we can smell it on you. You want it too.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scoff, cheeks flushed and arms crossed defensively, “I-I would never be unfaithful to Copia, regardless of what you smell on me.”

“We know, hon,” Cumulus murmurs, “which brings us back to the conversation we had with him earlier today.”

“You spoke with him about–about—”

“Sharing you?” Cirrus smirks, “Yeah. And he was open to it, under one condition - and provided that you are open to it, of course.”

“Sharing me? What like some kind of fucked up romantic timeshare situation? He was open to that?”

“Oh, don’t worry - we have no designs on your romantic relationship. We would never do that to the Cardinal. What we propose is purely physical.”

You go quiet for a moment, heart racing.

“What was Copia’s condition? Apart from my consent.”

“He wants to watch,” Cirrus says, lips curling into a filthy grin.

Your cheeks are so hot you swear you’re going to pass out, but no longer from embarrassment or stress.

From arousal.

“The two of you…really want me?”

Both ghoulettes laugh incredulously.

“Is that so hard to believe?” Cumulus says, stepping forward to toy with the loose ends of your hair. “Pretty little thing like you? Always being so sweet to us - to all the ghouls? We would be honored to have you.”

“And have you we would,” Cirrus growls, rising from her seat to advance on you once more, “Over and over until you beg for us to stop. Get you so drunk on pussy you can’t think anymore. All while your beloved mate watches us. So what do you say?”

When your eyes slide closed and head tilts back, a small whimper escapes you and you hear Cumulus sharply inhale.

“Think that’s a ‘yes’, ‘Lus.”

“I want to hear her say it,” Cumulus breathes, “Go on, angel. Tell us what you want.”

“Want…” your voice comes out in a rasp, “want you both. Want you to fuck me until I forget my own name. Want to taste you. And I want Copia to watch as you use my body for your own pleasure. Please. Please I–”

Your words are cut off as Cumulus lunges forward and slides her fingers to cup the base of your skull as her soft lips press against yours. She’s languorous about it - decadent - teasing your mouth open to slide her tongue against yours. You hear Cirrus whine and Cumulus chuckles into your mouth before pulling away. Before you can say a word, the taller ghoulette is upon you, backing you into the bookcase once more. Her kiss is more forceful than Cumulus’ - though no less enjoyable - and you gasp in delight when she slots a firm thigh in between your legs. When your hips rut against her, she pulls back.

“The Cardinal was right,” Cirrus grins, “you are a voracious little thing, aren’t you?”

You laugh, hands brushing her waist.

“He said that about me?”

“Mmhmm,” Cumulus says with a smile, “so…when do you want us?”

“Let me text Copia, tell him to come down here and I’ll let you bend me over a desk right here and now.”

The ghoulettes erupt in laughter.

“Oh no, angel, we’re going to do this right. We want you in a proper bed where we can take our time with you, yeah?”

“Hmm, if you insist,” you say with a pout, cocking your head to the side. “I’ll talk to him and see what works best. Soon.”

Cirrus bends down and drags the tip of her tongue along your lower lip, making you whimper. She steps back, allowing Cumulus to step in and run her lips along your jawline before kissing you softly.

“Can’t wait to give the Cardinal a show,” she breathes. “See you around, angel.”

“Mmhmm,” you confirm, and as soon as they came in, they’re gone. You sigh heavily.

Your conversation with your lover tonight should prove interesting. And you intend on showing him just how thankful you are.

—--

After the two of you converse on the matter - at great length until you’re both exhausted - you’re collapsed halfway on his chest as the two of you catch your breath. As you roll off him, you laugh.

“I gotta be honest, love, I’m a little bit surprised.”

“Hmm?” he says, angling himself to look at you. “What do you mean?”

“This whole thing with the ghoulettes. I never thought you would ever want to uh, share me. Especially considering I have caught you on multiple occasions chastising siblings and ghouls for giving me the once-over.”

“Eh, noticed that, did you?” Copia says, cheeks flushing, “Well, I don’t know. Part of me feels bad for scooping you up before you got a chance to…explore your desires. Especially with women so…” he finishes lamely.

“Uh-huh. Very kind of you. And certainly not because you have a filthy fantasy about watching me get destroyed by two beautiful, infernal women. Surely that has nothing to do with it.”

“Amore!” Copia objects, placing a hand to his heart, “My intentions are pure!”

“Oh, of course,” you smirk, rolling your eyes, “When the ghoulettes approached you, you definitely weren’t thinking about how pretty I’d look getting my titties sucked and pussy ate - my cheeks all flushed and sweaty as I moan wantonly, my eyes on you from the bed while they–”

“Enough!” Copia croaks, head falling back against the pillow. “Cazzo, are you trying to get me to cum in the sheets?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you snark, hand drifting down to cup the length of him. “Though I’m not sure I’ve had enough of you yet, Your Eminence.”

You shift the bedcovers, laying a line of fervent kisses down his chest.

“Again, amore?”

You place several wet kisses to his belly, grinning up at him.

“Don’t say that as if you’re not enjoying every second of this. We spent almost a whole year in each other’s presence without fucking each other’s brains out. That’s a lot of time to make up for, beloved.”

He chuckles, threading his fingers through your hair as you lick a stripe up his cock.

“You’re insatiable, diavoletta mia.”

“That’s what the ghoulettes said that you said about me. As if you didn’t keep me locked in your bedroom for almost three days after the first time we made love.”

“Mmm let’s do that aga–ah!”

You’ve had enough chatter, and show him so by slipping the length of him into your eager mouth. He’s silent for only a moment, hips flexing against you, before he begins babbling praise.

“Perfetta ragazza,” he groans as your head bobs to take him deeper, “you’re too–hnngh–good to this old man. Always knew that–ah–mouth of yours would look good like this. And that tongue, Sathanas…”

You chuckle around him, sliding off just enough to suckle the swollen head, making him moan and fist your hair. He ruts jerkily against you so you hold him down, thumbs caressing his hip bones as your tongue traces up his length.

“You’re right, you know,” he pants, “This–ah–thing with the ghoulettes? S-somewhat selfish reasons. Every time I see you with them I-I picture you in this bed, p-pleasuring each other. I trust them, trust that they will not–ah–overstep–fuck, amore!”

You’ve taken him back as far as you can and swallowed around him, hand gently massaging his balls. His breath comes in sharp whines as he fights to not thrust dumbly into you, chasing his pleasure. He’s close, you can tell by the broken way he spouts his praise, so you double down and hollow your cheeks.

“Cazzo, cazzo, caz–oh dolcezza, j-just like that. A-almost there, fuck baby.”

You pull off him just enough to suck on the head and, resting it on your tongue, your hand rockets up and down the wet length of him. He lifts his head up and looks into your half-lidded eyes and with a groan his cock spasms against your tongue, spurting his seed into your open and eager mouth.

“That’s it, amore, take it,” he sighs, rutting his hips against your mouth, “Fuck, you look beautiful like this.”

Your lips wrap around his softening cock for a moment, sucking any remnants off of him before pulling off with a pop and making a big show of swallowing and sitting back on your haunches. Copia lets out a tired laugh but he’s got a glint in his eye as his gaze roves your naked form.

“Get up here,” he growls, crooking a finger at you. Slowly, you crawl along his body until your breasts are flush against his chest hair and you can feel his breath against your lips.

“No,” he says patiently, raising a finger to tap on his mustache, “here.”

“Again, amore?” you ask, mocking his earlier words.

“Shall I tie you up and hold you down to have my meal instead?” his hands grip at the meat of your ass, urging you upwards. “Come. Here. Now.”

Oh, how you love when the bossy Cardinal comes out.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

You’re naked and bent over one of the drawers you’ve hijacked from Copia, rifling through various pieces of lace and silk. The man in question is leaning against the doorway to his bedroom, arms crossed as he observes you.

“What’s the fuss, amore?”

“The fuss–” you say, standing up and putting your hands on your hips, “--is I cannot figure out what I’m going to wear for this…rendezvous.”

“Eh, traditionally I think it’s done in the nude.”

You glare at him and brandish a pale pink mesh thong in his direction.

“You know what I mean, I have to make a…a good impression. Sexy. I can’t just answer the door with my tits and coochie out like ‘hello welcome to the filth den’. I mean, come on, I agonized over what to wear when I went to seduce you too.”

“Did you?” he asks, eyebrows raised as he ambles over to you, “Ah, now that was memorable. Seeing you sitting in my chair in that pretty little virginal cream silk slip, waiting for me. Ready for me. Mmm cara, so eager–”

Abruptly he pulls you backwards against his chest, fingers sliding down your belly before teasing at the heat of you.

“Copia, my love, as much as I appreciate where this is going,” you murmur, “they’re going to be here in twenty minutes and respectfully, I’m not giving them sloppy seconds.”

“Ugh, fine,” he growls, relinquishing his grip on you. “What about that eh, dark blue silk piece you have? With the lace along the neckline? It looks so pretty with your hair.”

Huh. There’s a thought.

You bend over to do some more digging - ignoring the way Copia is insistently grinding against your ass - and locate it with a triumphant noise. You turn in his grip and kiss him firmly.

“My love, this was inspired, I–” there’s something familiar nudging against you and you look up at him, “Don’t get excited so soon my love, I’d hate for you to uh - finish before anything even begins.”

“Ah dolcezza, I might be in my fifties but have I not proven to have the stamina of Zeus himself?”

“Zeus, huh?” you say, giving him a look, “I certainly hope you don’t have his sense of fidelity, too.”

He looks affronted. It’s cute.

“Amore, you question my faithfulness? You question my devotion? I would never touch another. You, on the other hand. Oh, you were just waiting for this opportunity, weren’t you?”

He’s got an evil little grin on his face and you know he’s trying to get a rise out of you but your lips dip down into a frown and your heart sinks.

“Copia, you know I would never…maybe this isn’t a good idea,” you sigh deeply, biting your lip as tears well in your eyes.

“Oh amore mio,” he says softly, cupping your cheeks in his hands, “I was only teasing! If you are not comfortable with this, say the word and I will end it immediatamente. Truly though, it’s okay, huh? People do eh, exploring all the time while still maintaining loyalty to a partner. And I trust both them and you. My desires are inconsequential - but allow me to give you this gift, sì?”

You nod slowly.

“I love you,” you murmur, reaching up to take his hands in yours, “so much. So much it scares me sometimes, you know? I would never, ever want to do anything that would hurt you.”

He kisses each of your hands.

“And I love you. I know you wouldn’t hurt me but if you have any uncertainty, know that I am A-OK with this. Prometto. Nothing will ever come between us but Sathanas you are going to look so lovely spread out beneath them. On top of them. Sideways, even.”

You sniffle and laugh.

“Hmm,” your eyes glaze over for a moment, “what do you think they’re going to do to me, Cope?”

“Anything. Everything. Kiss and lick and suck and fuck…they’re going to take you apart, dolcezza.”

You shiver.

“Getting me all worked up, Cardinal,” you breathe, the tip of your tongue sliding out to wet your lips.

“I would be a poor host if I did not, eh, ready the party favor, hmm?”

Stepping back with a smile, you slide the midnight blue slip over your head and look in the mirror to loosen your hair from its messy bun.

“Perfetta,” Copia whispers, watching you adjust strands so they fall just right, “they will not be able to resist you.”

“And I will not offer any resistance,” you say quietly, turning away from the mirror to face your beloved. You smooth your hands down the front of his black suit and smile.

“I can do this,” you murmur, those familiar butterflies back in your stomach.

“Only if you want to but yes, I believe you can,” he smiles, fussing at your hair. Abruptly, you grab him by the back of the head and slot your lips against his in an aggressive kiss that slowly turns more lazy and soft. You feel a throb from between your thighs as he whimpers when you suck on his tongue and slowly pull away.

“Good luck tonight,” you purr, “don’t give up the game too quickly, hmm?”

He laughs.

“I had plenty of solo practice drawing things out before we got together, thank you very much.”

“Oh yeah?” you say, cocking your head, “Surely you weren’t thinking of me any of those times…”

“Surely not,” he shakes his head with a smile, “Surely there was another curator who liked to smile at me so prettily and shake her ass so tantalizingly whenever she walked in front of me in tight little skirts. That curator was always so kind to this lecherous old Cardinal. Mmm she was so sweet and soft and–eh, what were we talking about?”

“How you used to shamelessly jack off after staring at my ass?”

“No, no, that was the other curator–”

You roll your eyes and reach your hand down to cup his bulge, making him whine and buck into your touch.

“Easy, dolcezza, easy…I am in a fragile state.”

“‘Fragile state’ my ass,” you grin, “I’ve seen you roll off of me and not ten minutes later hop back on like I’m a pony at a state fair.”

“Ah, not entirely accurate,” he says, lifting a pedantic finger, “you are slightly nicer looking than a pony.”

You slap his balls sharply, causing him to double over with a yelp.

“Just for that, I’m definitely going to leave you for a ghoulette now. Maybe a ghoul too. Who knows?”

“Amore!” he wheeze-laughs, comically cupping himself, “be sweet to me, huh? I might not survive tonight after watching what they do with you…”

“Povera mia,” you croon, “to be fair, I might not survive, myself. I–”

Three knocks sound at the door to Copia’s quarters and you exhale heavily.

“Do you want me to–”

“Yeah,” you nod, walking over to the bed and lowering yourself to sit on the end, facing the doorway. Your heart thuds in your chest as you watch your beloved amble over to the door and open it, smiling when you hear his familiar odd little noises as he stands aside and gestures for your guests to come in. When the ghoulettes step through the threshold your breath catches in your throat. It’s not exactly that you’d forgotten how beautiful they both are but Sathanas it continuously takes you by surprise. They’re both wearing casual clothing - Cirrus in a large t-shirt and basketball shorts and Cumulus in a floral robe - and an anxious laugh bleats out of you before you can smother it. Cumulus is preoccupied with saying something to Copia but Cirrus hears it and gives you a sly grin and a cocked brow. When Copia extends his arm to gesture towards you, your heart plummets into your stomach.

“He–” your voice comes out thick and croaky, “hey, you two. P-please, come in.”

Cumulus favors you with a soft, reassuring smile as she comes to sit next to you. Cirrus plops down on the other side, a hand pushing into the plush red duvet.

“Nice place,” she says, looking around the paneled room, “really elegant.”

“Not my place,” you admit sheepishly, “this is all him.” You point to Copia, who is busy settling into the high backed chair in the corner of the room. He smiles.

“Don’t let her fool you, her room is just as nice. Lots of blues. You’d like it, Cumulus.”

The aforementioned ghoulette laughs quietly, and when she reaches up a hand to brush your hair off your shoulder you want to kick yourself for the way you jump.

“Nervous, angel?” Cirrus asks, flopping backwards onto the bed and letting her fingers dance at the small of your back. You laugh, too loud.

“Y-yeah. Yeah I’m really fucking nervous.”

“What part are you nervous about, sweetheart?” Cumulus asks, shifting her body to face you.

“Uh…everything? The fact that I’ve never been with anyone but Copia, the fact that I’m committing physical infidelity, the fact that you two are so goddamn beautiful, the fact that the man I love is going to be watching…take your pick.”

“Amore, if my presence is causing you any grief I would be happy to le–”

“No,” you say quickly, and you hate the panic in your voice, “No. Please, I need you here. You know how I am, it’s the anxiety. I want to do this for you.”

“For yourself too, I hope,” Cirrus comments from her spot behind you, “unless we’ve been misreading the vibes…?”

“No. Not at all. The vibes are…absolutely there. Incredibly there, in fact. I-I want this,” you look to Cumulus, “I want you. Both.”

“Atta girl,” Cirrus purrs and you don’t even have to look at her to know she’s got a filthy grin curling her lips, “come on, angel. We’ll put on a good show for the Cardinal.”

You look over at Copia, the rapid rise and fall of his chest from the promises of what lie ahead making you ache. Cirrus stands, taking off her shirt in a smooth motion and tossing it to the floor.

“C’mon,” she says, shimmying her shorts and underwear off and climbing onto the bed, “get over here.”

Cumulus snorts as she gets up and you turn, crawling towards Cirrus who is resting against the pillows. When you settle in next to her you finally get a good look at her - all long legs and rounded hips and dusky nipples. You know you’re breathing too loud and then out of the corner of your eye you see Cumulus drop her robe. Cirrus’ chuckle at the whine that comes out of you fans your hair, which she idly twirls between her fingers.

“Perfect, isn’t she?” she asks, looking over at the other ghoulette. You nod. Perfect is an understatement. A rounded belly, large, lush breasts and generous thighs between which are nestled a thatch of white curls. Her tail waves lazily behind her as she uses her hands to trace the path of your gaze. She approaches the other side of the bed and slides in behind you.

“This is pretty,” Cumulus comments, fingers brushing the hem of your blue slip, “keep it on for a little longer, hmm? I like the way it looks on you.”

You nod dumbly and shift to lie on your back. When you do, you catch a glimpse of Copia in the corner. His hand rests in his lap, fingers twitching towards his bulge but he doesn’t touch himself. Not yet. His eyes gleam at you. You’ve got your hands folded on your belly trying desperately not to gawk at either of the beautiful, nude women you’re sandwiched in between.

“Can we touch you?” Cirrus murmurs, ghosting a hand over you.

“Please. Please.”

She smiles and when she lowers her hand to brush against your own you let out a deep exhale. All she’s doing is letting her fingertips glide along the backs of your hands, but it makes you dizzy. When Cumulus reaches down to brush along your thigh, your breath hitches in your throat.

“So sensitive,” Cumulus breathes, dragging her fingers up and over your hip to cradle your belly. You had almost forgotten how the two of them sport a cooling touch - something that comes rocketing back when you feel the almost painful tautness of your nipples. Judging from the low noise that comes out of Cirrus, she’s noticed it too.

“Mmm, pretty little thing,” she purrs, reaching a hand to cup your breast and thumb your nipple through the fabric, “Already so excited for us, ‘Lus.”

“Sure is,” Cumulus agrees, her lips tracing the shell of your ear, “Tell us what you want, angel.”

“K-kiss me. Please.”

“Begs pretty, too,” Cirrus chuckles, “Can’t wait to hear more of that later when I’m making you see stars. Go on, ‘Lus. You’re the one who couldn’t stop talking about her lips.”

Your head turns slightly to face the shorter ghoulette, stomach swooping when she leans in and blows against your lips. You shiver comically and with a smile she reaches a hand up to cup your cheek.

“Ready?” she asks, so softly only you can hear. You nod. When she leans in to capture your lips with hers, you feel as if a dam has broken inside you. All your previous hesitation is gone as you bury your fingers into her curls and pull her towards you, tongue dancing with hers. She’s just as decadent about it as you remember from that day in the archives, soft and yielding as you whimper into each other’s mouths. You’re vaguely aware of Cirrus breathing a curse next to you as Cumulus drapes her body halfway onto yours, hands kneading flesh through fabric. And speaking of fabric–

“This has to come off. Now.” Cumulus groans while pulling away for breath. She’s got one hand gripping the hem of your slip and eagerly shimmying it off your body, pausing to let you lift your hips and sit up to expedite its removal. When the offending garment is finally off, Cumulus skillfully tosses it over to Copia, who catches it with a gasp. You see him press the silk to his cheek, savoring the remnants of warmth from your body and the sight makes you feral.

“Well, well, well, look at you,” Cirrus breathes with a small laugh, “just as soft and lovely as we always knew you would be, right ‘Lus?”

You don’t wait to hear Cumulus’ answer before lunging upwards and slotting your lips against Cirrus’. The taller ghoulette is shocked for only a moment before gripping your thigh and hitching it up on her hip. Where Cumulus’ kiss felt like a dance, Cirrus’ feels like a domination and one you are more than happy to yield to. Teeth chase tongues and when her claws bite into the meat of your waist, you whine into her mouth. When she pulls away you pursue her but she pushes you down into the mattress.

“The Cardinal was right about you,” she grins, “Filthy little thing.”

“If you’re this eager for him, I understand him keeping you from the ghouls,” Cumulus murmurs, “Lucky he likes us best. Shame for the boys, but we’re perfectly fine keeping you all to ourselves.”

“Poor Aether,” Cirrus laughs, “wants you so bad and can’t have you. We promise we won’t be mean and tell him anything about tonight. Much.”

Your head is spinning with arousal, the thought of the ghoulettes tormenting the strong ghoul with sordid details about bedding you causing your clit to throb. Before you can linger on it any further, Cumulus drags her tongue over your clavicle, making you shiver. As if coordinated, both ghoulettes slide down your body until their breath ghosts over your nipples. Your cheeks are hot as Cirrus flicks the tip of her tongue out to graze it. Teasingly she drags the muscle around your areola, avoiding where you want her most and making you whimper pathetically.

“Don’t be cruel, Cir,” Cumulus chastises, placing soft, sucking kisses into the meat of your breast.

“Wanna hear how pretty she begs for me,” she says, smoothing a hand over your belly, “Come on angel, tell me what you want.”

“Suck my tits,” you eke out and Cirrus laughs.

“Oh, the Cardinal’s delicate flower knows how to be direct. I like that,” she pulls back slightly and turns her head to address Copia, “She always this good for you?”

“Better,” you hear Copia rasp and another throb thrums from between your legs.

“Well,” she says, turning her attention back to your breast, “good girls always get what they ask for, right ‘Lus?”

“Then quit talking and fucking give it to me already,” you grit out. Cumulus lets out a delighted noise and Cirrus’ claws bite into your flesh before she drags the flat of her tongue over your hardened nipple. When she finally wraps her lips around the bud and sucks, your hand flies to the back of her head. She’s vicious with her attentions, nipping with sharp canines - Cumulus on the other hand returns to sucking bruises into your other breast, her hand drifting further south. When she firmly cups your mound in her palm a sigh escapes you.

“So good,” you murmur, stroking Cirrus’ dark hair. The tall ghoulette pulls off you with a pop and gives you a grin. Gently, you urge Cumulus back up to face you so you can slide your lips against hers, hand kneading her breast.

“She likes that,” Cirrus breathes, “Loves having her tits played with.”

You moan into Cumulus’ mouth before pulling back for breath. With a firm shove you push the shorter ghoulette flat on her back, dragging your tongue down her sternum. As soon as your lips make contact with her nipple she lets out a whine that goes straight to your cunt. You lap eagerly, rolling her other bud between your fingers as Cirrus settles in behind you to place wet kisses on your shoulder. Out of the corner of your eye you see Copia with his cock in his gloved hand, panting as he stares at you. You’re filled with affection and, with an immense desire to put on a good show for him, you sit up and swing your leg over Cumulus to straddle her. Cirrus falls on her back, clapping as you lower your mouth to sloppily kiss Cumulus.

“Mmm, initiative,” Cirrus purrs, sitting up and delivering a sharp, pleasurable slap to your ass that jolts you forward, “we like that. Keep going, girls. I’ll be back.”

You pull away and grasp for Cirrus, who slides off the bed and reaches to a bag you hadn’t seen either of them come in with. Before you can see what she pulls out, Cumulus grabs the back of your head and pulls you down to where she can drag her teeth along your throat. Her claws scrape at your scalp and you delightedly let her tug you where she wants you. Something about the way her belly presses against yours makes you flush from head to toe. You feel…decadent. Hedonistic. It’s intoxicating and you want nothing more than to show the ghoulette beneath you exactly how good she’s making you feel.

“I know that look,” Cirrus says with a grin, “go on, angel. Make her sing for you.”

I’m going to make you sing, bellezza.

Instantly, you’re taken back to your first night with Copia and you let out a breathy laugh before looking down at Cumulus, who gazes up at you with pupils blown.

“I’ve never done this before,” you murmur and she smiles.

“You’re more familiar with the terrain than you realize. I’ll tell you what feels good, okay?”

You nod and slowly begin to maneuver yourself down her body, kissing and licking every inch of skin available to you. When you settle between her spread thighs and place a kiss to her mound, she lets out a soft sigh. Delicately, you use your thumbs to spread her open and immediately begin salivating when you see how deliciously wet she is. She twitches when your heavy exhale ghosts over her cunt.

“Go on, pretty girl,” you hear Cirrus say encouragingly from behind you, her hands smoothing over your hips. “I’ve got something real special for you.”

As your lips make contact with Cumulus’ slick folds you gasp. Behind you, Cirrus drags the head of what you assume is a silicone cock through your own folds, causing you to arch your back. When you pull away to look back at her she chides you.

“Keep your eyes on the prize, angel. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Well. You don’t need telling twice.

With as much fervor as you kissed her, you slide your lips and tongue over her folds, delighting in the way her hand flies to your hair. She’s right, of course, you’re familiar with the general terrain and when the tip of your tongue grazes her swollen clit, she gasps your name. From behind you, you feel the head of the cock drag through your folds again and gently, Cirrus eases the thick tip inside you. You whine into Cumulus’ cunt, hungry for more, but Cirrus holds your hips steady to keep you from bucking backwards.

“Sweet–ah–sweet Aether…used his quintessence on this strap, you know that? Makes it feel like it’s actually a part of me. Poor ghoul had n-no idea who it was going to be used on. Keep going, angel. Want to see you t-take her apart.”

Panting and desperate for her to fill you up, you lower your mouth again to lap up Cumulus’ slick. When your tongue eases inside her she lets out a loud, long moan.

“Good girl,” Cirrus breathes, “g-good–fuck.”

Fuck is right. With agonizing slowness she pushes the strap in and your jaw hangs open at the stretch. Copia is nothing to sneeze at, and he’s thick too, but this you feel in your guts. Your arms wobble as they struggle to hold you up and when Cirrus bottoms out with a groan you let out a pathetic whimper.

“H-how does she feel, Cir?”

You can hear Cirrus panting roughly behind you, hands smoothing over your ass.

“Unholy fucking hell, ‘Lus, hot and wet and t-tight, fuck. I–”

You squeeze around her as hard as you can and Cirrus cuts off with a sharp gasp and a broken moan. When you crane your head to look at her over your shoulder, you give her a grin and she lets out a breathy laugh.

“Oh Cardinal, she’s wicked.”

You hear Copia let out a low chuckle from behind you and it makes your cunt spasm around Cirrus.

“Finish your task, angel,” she coos and you glance up at Cumulus who looks down at you and wets her lips. Feeling deliciously full of both Cirrus’ cock and renewed fervor, you lower your head and slowly drag your tongue though her folds.

“That’s it,” Cirrus murmurs, slowly pulling out of you then pushing back in, “c’mon baby, show her how much you like her.”

So you do.

You’ve got your hands wrapped around Cumulus’ generous thighs, fingers digging hard enough to bruise as you alternate between fucking her with your tongue and circling her clit. Cirrus’ thrusts are deep and forceful, pumping in and out of you while streams of filth slide out of her mouth.

“That’s it, honey,” Cumulus whimpers from above you, burying her fingers in your hair and bucking her hips against your mouth, “so good for me, right there, right–fuck!”

Her praise ceases as you wrap your lips around her clit and suck. Cirrus moans and her pace quickens, fucking into you with less and less abandon. From behind you you hear a strangled amore mio and you know that Copia is close. The visual of his gloved hand wetly sliding along his cock, the taste of Cumulus beneath you, and the mounting pressure of Cirrus’ cock inside you make you feel like you’re going insane. Your moans are muffled, your mouth thoroughly occupied with suckling at Cumulus’ swollen clit while she cries out above you.

“Please, please, please,” she whines, “so close, so fucking close honey, don’t stop!”

You double down and take a page from Copia’s playbook, taking a finger and teasing at her entrance. Slowly, you sink it in knuckle deep and crook it searching for that sweet spot. When she screams your name you know you’ve found it, delighting in the way her cunt clenches around you. When she shatters, she pulls your hair hard enough to hurt but you don’t care, not with the way she whimpers your name like a prayer. The sounds she makes only inflame your passion further and you want nothing more than to wrench another orgasm out of her but suddenly she’s pushing you away. Taking the hint you pull back and suddenly Cirrus’ hand wraps around your shoulder.

“My turn,” she snarls, yanking you towards her and causing your back to arch. Her steady thrusts become sharper, harder, as she pounds into you and makes you see stars. Wrapping her hand around your throat she pulls your back flush against her.

“Look at him,” she growls, her breath hot in your ear, “Look at what you do to him.”

You turn your head to look at your beloved and a gasp hiccups out of your throat. He’s hunched in on himself, gazing up at you with his paints streaked down his face and his mouth hung open in a moan. His hand squeezes at his reddened, leaking cock, hips fucking upwards into his fist. Cirrus holds you in place, her hand seeking your sweat-slick breast to pinch sharply at your nipple as she fucks ruthlessly into you. You cry out, pushing backwards to meet her thrusts.

“I know you’re close, angel,” she groans, hips jackhammering into you hard enough you can’t catch your breath, “mmm fuck gonna–ah–gonna fill this pretty little cunt up. Gonna–ah-ah-fuck, baby!”

“Give it to me, Cir,” you whine, “just like that, j–Copia!”

You cum with a cry, watching as Copia spasms, painting his fist and chest with rope upon rope of his seed. Behind you Cirrus thrusts three times more before you feel her fill you up. You’re trembling in her tight grip as she empties herself into you, her forehead pressed against your shoulder. Copia is looking at you with nothing but pure adoration as you struggle to catch your breath. A silence settles among the four of you and you break Copia’s gaze to look down at Cumulus.

“Beautiful,” she breathes with a wide smile, “fucking beautiful. Look at you.”

You let out a short, delirious laugh and Cirrus mouths weakly at your shoulder.

“You were perfect,” she murmurs into your ear, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, “just like we knew you’d be. Wasn’t she, Cardinal?”

Copia’s head is tipped back against the chair, eyes trained on the ceiling.

“She always is. Always. Amata mia.”

Gently, Cirrus extricates herself from you and the slide of the rigid silicone dildo as it exits your cunt makes you gasp. Weakly, you crawl forwards to Cumulus’ embrace and collapse next to her. Cirrus follows after a moment, slipping in beside you.

“So, how was it?”

Your gaze lingers on the canopy above you and you tip your head to lean against Cumulus.

“Wow,” you say with a dazed smile, “women, huh?”

Cirrus barks out a laugh. You feel your eyelids get heavy as you watch Copia get up and go into the bathroom.

“Don’t fall asleep on us,” Cumulus nudges you, “we’re not done with you yet.”

You whine but you can’t deny the delicious ache coming from between your thighs.

“I’m gonna need a snack, then,” you say with a sigh.

“Anything you want, bellezza,” Copia says, returning to the bedroom, half cleaned up, “I am your servant.”

Hmm. Now that’s a thought.

“Bring me some grapes, a bag of chips, and a pint of ice cream and I’ll show the girls how pretty I look when I bounce on your cock, huh?”

Cumulus lets out a soft gasp and Cirrus’ eyebrows shoot up.

“What flavor?” Copia rasps out, reaching down to adjust the bulge in his pants.

Mmm. You could get used to this.

#curator reader series #cardinl copia x reader #cardinal copia x female reader #cirrus x reader x cumulus #cirrus x reader #cumulus x reader #the band ghost #the band ghost fic #rachel writes

155 notes · View notes

stevie-petey · 11 months

Text

episode two: the weirdo on maple street

Trying to ease the awkwardness, you hold up a poster and offer it to them, but Steve snatches it from your grasp. “Henderson, didn’t know you were also a little know-it-all. Why don’t you share your review sheet with the rest of us?” He says, casting a teasing look your way. It isn’t until he inspects the piece of paper that he finally notices that it’s a missing poster for a child, not a review sheet. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.” You snatch the poster back from him. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

summary: you use your limited psych knowledge to help a bald girl, you force jonathan to accept $20 and he's later an ass to you, steve doesn't know what a "missing" poster looks like, and it's really hard being a single mother to now four kids.

rating: general, but there's cursing as usual and steve being... well, steve - but hes still season 1 steve so give him some time

warnings: cursing, fem!reader, use of y/n, and there's more angst in this chapter with some fighting between reader and jonathan, so fair warning.

words: 10.1k (the longest thing ive ever written)

before you swing in: i'm almost done with chapter 4, so here's a sweet treat as i cram for exams lmao. some housekeeping: should i do a tag list ? i got a few questions about it, so pls let me know soldiers. also, i feel the need to clarify that i adore nancy but for plot reasons - reader and her don't really get along (but they def will later, trust me). season 1 nancy and steve are just so silly. anyways, i hope y'all enjoy this loooong chapter. the rest definitely aren't as lengthy due to plot, but wow. i amazed myself. carry on !

Your jeans drip onto the Wheeler’s carpet, and you’ve definitely left a wet imprint on the couch cushion beneath you. The other boys are dripping as well, but all their attention is on the girl in front of them.

After finding her in the woods, your motherly instincts kicked in, immediately removing your coat to place on her and gently ushering her to your bike and demanding that the boys go back to Mike’s. Your mom is home, so your house was out of the question, and it’s always been easy sneaking into the Wheeler’s, anyways.

Once you all had made it back, you guided the girl onto the couch and sat next to her. You refuse to let her go too far from you, having no idea where she came from or why, but regardless you know she’s too young for any of it to have been good.

Which leads you to now: wearily watching the boys stare at the girl as if she’s some science experiment, asking her a million questions a second.

Bless them and their little prepubescent minds.

Lucas reaches out to touch her, and before you can nudge him away, Mike slaps at his hand. “Stop it! You’re freaking her out!”

“She’s freaking me out!” Lucas retaliates, which honestly? That’s fair. The girl hasn’t said anything yet, even after your multiple attempts to get her to do so. No matter how much you try, you can’t coax a response out of her.

“I bet she’s deaf.” Your brother offers, suddenly clapping his hands to scare her, making both you and her flinch. “Not deaf…”

You roll your eyes at him. “Guys, she’s probably just really scared right now. We should give her some space,” you look at both Lucas and Dustin, “and time,” now you look at Mike. The three boys deflate a bit.

“She’s probably cold,” Mike says after a moment of silence, and you nod at his suggestion. Seeing your agreement, he walks over to a basket of clothes and takes out some pajamas.

While Mike is away, thunder rumbles and the girl jumps, unconsciously getting closer to you. You wrap an arm around her reassuringly, making note that she doesn’t like loud noises. If anything, she’s showing more and more signs of trauma response, which makes you uneasy. You remember Hopper saying something about Will being in danger. What are the odds that this little girl was running from something as well?

“Here, these are clean.” Mike’s return breaks you from your thoughts, and you take the clothes from him and stand up. You thank him, then offer your hand to the girl. She looks at you uncertainly.

“It’s okay,” you reassure her. “Let’s go get you dressed in some warm clothes. I’m right here, sweetheart.”

“She’s super nice.” Dustin says, trying to help.

Lucas adds, “Yeah, you can trust her.”

“She’s alright.” Is all Mike offers.

You give them all an appreciative smile, even if Mike is being a bit of an ass, and then you feel a small, cold hand wrap around yours. The girl stands up, looking around shyly, and you lead her to the bathroom. When you go to close the door, she stops you.

Mike has followed, seeing the interaction. “You don’t want it closed?”

Her voice is quiet, solemn. “No,”

You and Mike look at each other, and he voices what you’re thinking. “So you can speak.”

He looks excited about this new information, and you shove his head out of the doorway. She needs to get dressed. “We’ll leave the door cracked, okay?”

She nods at you, and you stand guard outside the door. It’s not that you don’t trust the boys, but Mike has only known her for ten minutes and he’s already been nicer to her than you’ve ever seen him with anyone else. The only other person he’s this soft spoken to is Will, so you’re protective of her.

You can hear the boys discussing tonight’s events from the living area while the girl gets dressed. They sound scared, and a part of you can’t blame them. While you’re fairly certain that the girl isn’t dangerous, it’s still a creepy situation. Once again, Hopper’s new theory surrounding Will floats through your mind. This all can’t be some coincidence.

Sighing, you approach the boys and catch a bit of the conversation.

“Our houses become Alcatraz.” You hear Lucas saying, and you figure they’ve finally pieced together that there’s no way any of you can tell anyone about the girl. None of you were supposed to be out tonight. As much as you know you should tell an adult, you also need to be able to help Jonathan with finding Will. If your mom locks the house down, you’re doomed.

“Lucas is right,” the boys turn to you. “We can’t go to anyone about this just yet, but I also don’t think it’s a good idea to hide her. She’s been through something terrible, it’s obvious. Tonight, I say she gets some rest. We can figure out what to do later.”

Mike nods, for once agreeing wholeheartedly with you. “She’ll sleep here tonight-”

Dustin’s eyes widen in horror, “You’re letting a girl-”

You clamp your hand over his mouth, motioning for Mike to continue.

“Thanks, Y/N. In the morning, she sneaks around my house, goes to the front door and rings my doorbell. My mom will answer and know exactly what to do. She’ll send her back to Pennhurst,”

They think she’s from Pennhurst? You think, but don’t verbalize it.

“Or wherever she comes from. We’ll be totally in the clear! And tomorrow night, we go back out, and this time we find Will.”

You gotta hand it to Mike Wheeler, he may be a pain in the ass, but he’s a smart pain in the ass. The plan is pretty sound, so long as he follows through with it. However, it’s him following through with it that leaves you a bit unsure.

He looks at you for approval, and you hesitantly nod. “It’s a pretty good plan, Wheeler. So long as you stick to it.”

Lucas and Dustin nod along with you, there’s an unspoken sense of doubt that Mike will actually be able to turn the girl over to his mom. Then she walks out, dressed now in some of Nancy’s old clothes. She draws into herself when you all turn to her, shy. You walk over and offer your hand again, which she accepts.

“Mike, go find her something to sleep on. Dustin, we gotta go soon before mom notices we’re gone.”

Both boys comply, with Mike searching for a sleeping bag and Dustin packing up his stuff. You crouch down next to the girl, so that you’re face to face, and give her a warm smile. “It was lovely meeting you. My name is Y/N, I hope Mike over there doesn’t give you a hard time tonight.”

Mike flips you off, having heard you. “If he’s annoying,” you lean in close to her now, whispering in her ear. “You have my permission to pinch him.”

The girl giggles, finally relaxing a bit, and you warm with pride. She’ll be okay, she seems like a very resilient girl and you’ll oddly miss her.

The two other boys are waiting for you upstairs. You all wish Mrs. Wheeler a good night and head out. Thankfully the rain has now stopped, so the bike ride home isn’t bad. You stop at Lucas’ turn to make sure he gets home safely before finally arriving at your place. As Dustin begins pedaling into your driveway, you don’t follow.

“I’m going to go see Jonathan, he didn’t answer my calls earlier and I just…”

Dustin waves at you, not even bothering to turn around. “Yeah yeah, go see your boyfriend. If mom asks, you’re asleep.”

“He’s not my boyfriend-”

“Are you seriously going to argue with me after I offered to cover for you?”

Your brother gives you a pointed look, and you know he’s right. “Touche.”

Dustin goes to leave, but you quickly grab at his jacket. “Before I forget, swear to me that you’ll keep me updated if anything weird happens, okay?”

He nods at you, knowing better than to argue, and gives you a mock salute as he heads inside.

The living room light is on when you arrive at the Byers home, despite the late hour, but you aren’t surprised. You knock on the door and wait. When no one comes, you knock again, a bit louder this time. After another few moments, the door swings open.

Jonathan has a finger over his lips in a shushing manner, motioning to Joyce who is passed out on the couch. You nod, letting him know you understand. The two of you go to his room and when he closes the door, you finally get a good look at him. He looks worse than he did earlier, the bags under his eyes have somehow gotten darker. His hair is a mess, his eyes bloodshot.

“You’re soaked.” Jonathan says.

“Yeah,” he doesn’t want to talk about it yet, so you play along. “Got caught in the rain. Are some of my spare clothes still in your bottom drawer?”

He nods at you, going over and grabbing a t-shirt and pajama pants for you. You accept them gratefully and excuse yourself to the bathroom to change. Your bones are cold, the rain seemingly having penetrated the layers of your skin. In the mirror you see that your own eyes are bloodshot; you don’t look much better than Jonathan, really.

When you return Jonathan is sitting on his bed, so you join him. It’s silent between you, all you can hear is his breathing. You stare straight ahead, so does he, and you wait. You’ve only seen Jonathan like this a handful of times, where the stress and anxiety becomes too much for him. He shuts down, draws into himself, and all you can do is wait for him to return to you; he always does.

“Mom got a call tonight.” Jonathan’s voice is hoarse, and he looks frail. You wonder if he ever did end up making the spaghetti you prepared for him.

“Who was it?”

He swallows heavily, taking a moment to respond. “She said it was Will.”

“Will?” You look at him now, searching for any signs on his face, his voice lacks emotion. By the way he stares blankly ahead, as if he’s not really present with you right now, you know that it hadn’t been Will on the other end.

“She started freaking out, going ballistic,” his voice cracks a bit, so you take a chance and reach for his hand. He lets you take it, giving you a squeeze, before continuing. “She was screaming, begging whoever it was to give Will back.”

Jonathan pauses again. You don’t say anything, because no words will help. He’s never been the type for comforting words, anyways. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. “It wasn’t him. Lightning struck and our phone got charred. It wasn’t Will.”

Now it’s your turn to squeeze Jonathan’s hand. He doesn’t deserve any of this. None of the Byers do. Out of the entire town, they’re the family who deserves the most that life can give. Will, too good. Jonathan, too selfless. Joyce, too loving. They’re the best damn people you know.

“I tried calming her down, but she was hysterical. She’s only asleep right now because she worked herself up too much and passed out. I’m worried she-'' Jonathan shakes his head, as if ashamed by his own words. “I’m worried she’s going crazy, Y/N.”

He’s quiet again, but you can tell he’s about to break. His knee is now bouncing up and down and his breathing has become slightly ragged. Everything from today has been building up, it was only a matter of time before he snapped. You’re also worried about Joyce, a part of you skeptical to believe her, but the little girl you found tonight in the rain? Something was definitely weird about Will’s disappearance, but you’re hesitant to tell Jonathan just yet. For all you know, she could’ve simply been a girl who got lost and will be returned to her family tomorrow.

You don’t want to worry Jonathan any more than you need to.

“I should’ve been there for him. I shouldn’t have taken that shift.” He gasps out, and like a dam the tears begin to fall. You’re quick to pull him into a hug and he crumbles into you. His body shakes with violent sobs and he clutches at you as if afraid you’ll leave.

“You can’t blame yourself.” You whisper, stroking a hand through his hair. He cries even harder, the force of it almost enough to knock you over, so you situate yourself so that you’re fully on the bed, laying against his pillows, with Jonathan crying into your chest beside you.

“He’s g-gone.”

“We’ll find him, I promise.” Your own tears threaten to come out, but you force them down. You have to be here for him, he needs you. The only other time Jonathan has so openly cried was when Lonnie left years ago. He’s been holding everything in since then, all those years of looking after his family, taking care of his brother, getting harassed by assholes like Tommy Hagan.

Neither of you say anything else, and you know that Jonathan needs to let it all out. You soothe him as best as you can, running a hand through his hair, stroking his back, reassuring him over and over again that none of this is his fault until your own voice becomes hoarse. You don’t know how long you stay like this, but sometime during the night Jonathan finally falls asleep, and you follow shortly after him.

—

Sunlight streams through Jonathan’s spare bed sheet that he’s pinned over his window, serving as a makeshift curtain, waking you up. You stretch, careful not to wake the boy beside you, and crawl out of the bed. You’re antsy, already knowing that today will be another long day. After grabbing some clothes from your designated drawer and getting dressed, you head into the kitchen and start making a quick breakfast. Just as you’re finishing up, Jonathan comes out of his room, dressed and ready for the day.

Neither of you say anything about the night prior, instead silently working around each other in the kitchen with years of practiced ease. He hands you the salt shaker right when you need it, you grab the pieces of toast that he popped into the toaster, the two of you never once get in each other’s way. You get deja vu, remembering all the times you’ve slept over with Dustin, you and Jonathan making the boys breakfast while they slept in.

The only indication that last night really happened is a forehead kiss from Jonathan, his lips soft against your head. Out of the two of you, you’re definitely the touchy one, so it’s always a nice surprise when he initiates the touch, and his forehead kisses were a welcome rarity.

When the plates have been made, Joyce gets up from the couch and stumbles over to the table. You quickly help her sit down, and for the first time since Will’s disappearance you’re able to really look at her. She looks like Jonathan, only worse. The bags under her eyes are darker, her hair is more matted, and you believe she’s still wearing the same shirt you saw her in the night that Will went missing.

“All right, mom. Breakfast is ready.” Jonathan tries to place her plate on the table, but Joyce stops him, worried about the poster of Will.

Jonathan gives you a look and you run over to the table, grabbing the poster so that he can set the plate down.

Joyce gives you a tired smile, “Thank you, Y/N, but I can’t eat.”

“I just need you to eat, mom.”

“Jonathan’s right, Mrs. Byers. You need to eat, we gotta keep your strength up.” You feel like you’re talking to a child, but in a way, you suppose you are.

The woman lights a cigarette instead, and faintly you wonder how many she’s had within the last 48 hours; you’ll need to wash your clothes when you get home. She begins to ask Jonathan to go to Xerox to make as many copies of Will’s poster as possible. You sit down in front of her, silently eating, knowing there’s no place for you in this conversation.

It’s not that the Byers are ashamed that they have little money, but you know it’s rude to listen in. They make do with what they have, and Jonathan has never felt embarrassed with you knowing it.

“I don’t want you to go alone,” Joyce says, causing you to speak up.

“I’ll go with him and help hang them up, it’s no problem.”

Jonathan turns to you. “You have that chem test, remember? I’m not letting you miss that.”

“Shit…” you bury your face into your hands. You completely forgot about that after finding the little girl last night and dealing with Jonathan. You’ve heard about how impossible the chem exams were, and science has never been your best subject. That was Dustin’s thing, your thing was more humanities.

“You’re the smartest person I know, you’ll ace the exam,” Jonathan reassures you before turning to his mom. “And I’ll handle the posters, it’s okay.”

Joyce has been lost in thought during your conversation with her son, only beginning to speak again when she’s asked how many copies will be efficient. Once she starts speaking again, it’s almost like she’s physically unable to stop. She begins to ramble, finally exposing the crumbling woman that you’ve only heard about, now understanding Jonathan’s fears for her.

“Mom-”

“If we… ten cents-”

“Mom!” Jonathan raises his voice a bit, now grabbing at his mother’s hand. “You can’t get like this, okay?”

The look on Joyce’s face kills you. She looks so lost, ashamed of her behavior, and you cast your head down; this is a private matter. Joyce profusely apologizes to him and all Jonathan can do is gently reassure her that it’s okay. All of this is okay.

Their tender moment is interrupted by knocking on the front door, revealing Hopper on the other side. His presence makes you uneasy, so you stay in the kitchen and begin to clean up with Jonathan while Joyce attacks him with questions.

“A little bit of trust here, alright? We’ve been searching all night.” You hear the cop say. Your hand clenches the sponge, rubbing a bit harder at the plate you’re cleaning. If they’ve been searching all night, why are they here now?

“Went all the way to Cartersville.” Ever since Will disappeared, you’ve been building a wall of hope within you that he’ll be found safe and sound. However, with every passing day, with every new situation that occurs, you can feel a piece of the wall collapse. You can feel it now; the search party went all the way to Cartersville.

“And?” Joyce asks.

“Nothing.” The cry that Joyce lets out causes you to drop the plate you’ve been cleaning, shattering on the floor. You curse, immediately bending down to pick up the pieces. Luckily it didn’t shatter into a million bits, but you still feel horrible for breaking one of their dishes.

Jonathan bends down as well to help, and the commotion catches Hopper’s attention. He sees you scrambling to clean up the mess and sighs with annoyance. “Does she live here or something?”

You and Jonathan look at each other, a slight smile on your faces, and only respond to Hopper with a synchronized shrug. You basically do live at the Byers’ at this point, you have been for years now. It was the same for Jonathan: if you weren’t at his house, he was at yours.

Joyce wipes some of her tears away. “Y/N is family, she’s here to help.”

Hopper ignores this, instead bringing up the phone call from the night before. Joyce leads him over to the phone, and you join them once you’ve collected the remaining pieces of broken glass. When you see the phone, you can’t help but gasp. Jonathan’s words from last night are accurate, the phone is charred.

“Storm barbecued this pretty good.” Hopper says.

Joyce waves her arms out, disbelieving. “The storm? You’re saying that that’s not… weird?”

“No, it’s weird.” Hopper begins, but you cut him off.

“It’s really weird.”

He glares at you. You mumble a quick sorry and back away a bit while Jonathan asks if the call can be traced. Hopper focuses back on the situation at hand, informing him that it isn’t possible and then questions if Joyce even heard Will in the first place. The question makes you cringe, knowing it’ll only make Joyce more agitated and hurt.

“Flo said you just heard some breathing.”

It’s the way he phrases the question, the way he emphasizes the word “just”, that bothers you. This woman has just lost her kid, what kind of mother wouldn’t know her own child’s breathing?

“Even if it was ‘just’ some breathing, I’d know it was my brother. Will is her son, she’d know better than anyone.” You find yourself saying. The words weren’t meant to leave your mouth, but the appreciative look Joyce casts your way outweighs the fear from Hopper’s glare.

“It was him. It was Will, and he was scared. Then something-”

“It was probably just a prank call,” Hopper tries to reason with her, causing you to roll your eyes at him. You respect the guy, you do, but could he at least attempt to listen to Joyce?

You excuse yourself before you say anything else, heading back into the kitchen to collect the two posters you and Jonathan made. While the others talk, you grab his things and pack his bag for him. You know he’ll probably skip school today to get the copies done in time, maybe keep an eye on his mom, so you make a mental note to inform him later that you’ll help with putting the fliers up the second you’re done with the exam. He needs someone there for him.

When you’ve grabbed the last of Jonathan’s things, Lonnie’s name is mentioned. You freeze, standing right outside the hall from them, only a wall between you. If Lonnie is somehow involved in this, you’ll kill him yourself. He was always cruel to Will, even when you were around to witness it. You hate him more than anything in this damn world.

“It’s been long enough, I’m having him checked out.” Hopper declares, storming out of the house.

You count to three in your head, and the second you get to three, Jonathan is following after Hopper. You knew he would, hating his father the most out of everyone who has had the displeasure of meeting him. You follow behind him, heading outside to talk to the Chief.

“Hey, Hopper. Let me go.”

Hopper takes a drag from his cigarette, facing the two of you. “I’m sorry?”

“To Lonnie’s,” Jonathan says, looking at you for backup.

You do your best to try. “If Will’s there, that means he probably ran away. Cops will scare the poor boy, he’ll think he’s in trouble.”

“And he’ll hide. He’s good at hiding.” Jonathan finishes for you.

Hopper stares at you both, inhaling more smoke from his cigarette and blowing it in your direction with a curious look in his eyes. “You two are sickening to be near, you know that?”

You and Jonathan share an annoyed look. A kid is missing, and you still have to clarify that you aren’t together? “It’s not like that,” Jonathan says.

“Sure, you know cops are good at detecting lies,” Hopper approaches him now, grabbing his shoulders. For a brief second you’re afraid he’ll hurt him. “And we’re also good at finding, okay? Stay here with your mom. She needs you.”

Hopper punches at Jonathan’s shoulder before facing you. “And you,” you brace for whatever he’s about to say, knowing you probably aren’t his favorite person at the moment. He points at Jonathan, “He needs you.”

His words hang in the air several minutes after he’s gone. You glance at Jonathan, but he doesn’t meet your eye and instead he goes back inside. You sigh, following after him because it’s what you do. Hopper’s right, he needs you.

Jonathan’s in the living room, speaking softly to his mom when you enter. You don’t disturb them but rather snatch Jonathan’s keys from the counter and wait for him by the door. Like Joyce said, Xerox opens in about thirty minutes and you have a chem exam to take. If you leave now, you’ll be able to make the copies with him and be back in time before school.

The ride to Xerox is tense, you know Jonathan is upset that he’s been sidelined by Hopper. You also know that he’s torn between wanting to help his mom and staying out of his house as much as possible. If it weren’t for your god damn chem test you’d offer to skip and hide out at your place, but you can’t. Jonathan wouldn’t let you risk your future for him (even though you would, in a heartbeat, a million times over).

The man at Xerox gives Jonathan a look of pity, clearly recognizing Will’s picture on the poster. It’s your favorite photo of him, smiling with all his teeth and happy as can be. From what you’ve heard, the whole town has been conducting search parties for him. Jonathan ignores the look and asks for the 200 copies to be made.

It’s just you and him in the store as you wait for the prints to be done. The guy said it’d be about a ten minute wait so you wander around the store. Jonathan clearly is in a no talking mood, so you occupy yourself with whatever you find. You wish you’d brought your backpack to Jonathan’s last night so you could at least study a bit while waiting, but you didn’t. It’d be a miracle if you pass this exam.

Jonathan wanders around as well, so you give a quick look around and find the employee. He’s standing over the printer when you approach. “I’d like to pay for the copies, please.”

“You can pay after they’re done-”

“No, I can’t let him see,” you point over to Jonathan, who is now looking at some stationary. “Please, just let me pay now so he can yell at me later.”

The guy gives you a shrug, clearly not getting paid enough to care. “Okay, it’ll be $20. Just leave the money on the counter over there, the prints should be done soon.”

You nod and do as you’re told, leaving the $20 bill on the counter while Jonathan isn’t looking. He can kill you later, right now you want to make up for not being able to help with hanging them up. There’s literally hundreds to get through, he can’t do that all alone.

When the posters are done and Jonathan collects them, you wish the worker a good day and then wrap your arms around him and use all your strength to drag your friend into the car. He doesn't fight back at first, too confused by your actions, and you’re almost out the door before he sees the man pocket the money and wave at you. The dots connect in his head and Jonathan begins to fight against you.

“Y/N, let me pay-”

“Nope. Not happening!”

“We both know I’m stronger-”

“Debatable, honestly, seeing as how we’re almost to your car.”

“Let go!” He tugs harshly as his arm, which you’ve got a secure hold on, causing you to stumble a bit.

You plant your feet more firmly against the ground and use all your weight to pull the boy forward. You’re a few feet away from the car, just one more solid pull should do the trick. “Stop fighting this, Byers. I’ve already paid-”

“Which you shouldn’t have!”

“Keep fighting and drop all the posters, I dare you.”

Jonathan looks down at the posters in his spare hand, realizing that you’re right. If he doesn’t give in soon, they’ll topple over. He lets out an agitated groan, throwing his head back, and then marches over to the car to unlock it and fling himself into the driver’s seat. “Just get in.”

You do a small victory dance and hop in the car.

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

He hesitates only for a moment. “God, I hate that I do.”

You smile, buckling your seatbelt. Jonathan pulls out of the parking lot and begins the drive to school. He’s less tense this time, at least. The small little wrestling match between the two of you seemingly did some good, then.

When you pull up to school, you once again apologize to Jonathan for being unable to help. He waves you off, understanding.

“It’s okay, I promise. I can’t have you failing out of high school because of me.”

You roll your eyes. “One test won’t make me become a high school dropout, Jonathan.”

He ruffles your hair, which you slap him for. “You can join me after, okay? Good luck, bug.”

“Fine, but I’m taking some posters with me so I can hang up on my way to my locker.”

“Deal.”

You run to your locker, flinging it open and letting out a sigh of relief when you spot your chem cards. Honestly, you really should’ve prepared better for your little sleepover at the Byers. You glance at the watch on your wrist, noting that you have roughly fifteen minutes to memorize all the elements in the periodic table as well as some chemistry definitions.

Just peachy.

You tie your hair up so you can focus better and grab the note cards. If you review the cards as you walk to class, you can save at least three minutes of studying time. You tuck the few remaining posters of Will under your arm and begin to head to your class, getting absorbed in all the elements and words. As you’re skimming a card about protein being K, you run into Nancy and Barb, who also seem to have the same idea as you.

“Oh, hey Y/N.” Nancy greets you, Barb waving to you as well.

They’re being nice, so you try to make conversation. “Studying for Kaminsky’s test?”

They nod at you and Nancy sighs, “Yeah, his exams are the worst.”

You laugh a bit, for once on the same page as her. “I know. I spent last night at Jonathan’s, I completely forgot about the test until this morning. I’m screwed.”

Barb raises her eyebrows at you while Nancy suddenly looks sad. “Oh, I’m sorry about Will. I know you and him are close.”

“Yeah, it must be hard taking care of Jonathan right now.” Barb voices.

You give them both an awkward smile. “Thanks, I guess? It’s just, there’s still hope, so…”

The three of you stand there as your voice trails off. It’s painfully awkward. While you’ve known Nancy since you were 12, and at some point you even called her a close friend of yours, the second you entered high school she became distant. You never blamed her for it, people simply grow up and grow apart. Now you only ever interact with her if it concerns the boys.

Trying to ease the awkwardness, you hold up a poster and offer it to them, but Steve snatches it from your grasp.

“Henderson, didn’t know you were also a little know-it-all. Why don’t you share your cheat sheet with the rest of us?” He says, casting a teasing look your way. It isn’t until he inspects the piece of paper that he finally notices that it’s a missing poster for a child, not a review sheet. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.”

You snatch the poster back from him. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

His friends laugh, but Steve has a bit of heart to look guilty, so you count that as something. His shame doesn’t last long though and the goofy and sweet boy who made sure you were okay after almost hitting you with his car is gone.

Steve plays off the situation as if it were nothing. “Let me make it up to you, Henderson. I know you’re probably stressed out of your mind dealing with boyfriend troubles because of Bill-”

“His name is Will,” you grit out, remembering now why you dislike Steve so much. Everything was about impressing his friends, and while you can sympathize with him, it doesn’t give him an excuse to be an asshole.

“Right, Will. Anyways, I was just about to inform Nance over here that my dad has left town on a conference and my mom’s gone with him, ‘cause, ya know, she doesn’t trust him.”

“Good call,” Tommy says, and you glare at him.

Steve carries on. “So, are you guys in?”

“In for what?” Nancy asks.

“No parents, a big house?” Carol says, as if Nancy is a giant idiot.

You feel bad for her being treated so poorly by her boyfriend’s friends, so you lean in and whisper, “A party, Nancy.” Then you look at Steve. “And no, I’ll pass.”

Steve pouts. “Can’t leave loverboy alone for a couple hours?”

You scoff, shoving the poster against his chest, using more force than probably necessary, but the satisfying grunt he lets out pleases you. “If I didn’t know you I’d say you sound jealous. Unfortunately, I do know you, and that’s exactly why I’m not interested.”

“Meow,” says Carol as she and Tommy laugh.

You ignore her and push past the group to get to class. You’ve wasted enough time, you have to study. Steve lets you, hurt by your words, but tries to play it off, instead focusing his attention on Jonathan up ahead hanging up some posters. You both see him at the same time and as you start to approach him, you hear Steve and his group mock him.

“God, that’s depressing.” Steve says, and you’ve never wanted to hit a man more than you do right now.

You glance at Nancy, trying to convey your disappointment in her. She’s a nice girl, she shouldn’t be with an idiot like Harrington. Who the hell makes fun of a guy with a missing brother? Nancy doesn’t meet your eye, which pleases you. She should feel guilty.

As you near Jonathan, Nancy calls after you to wait up. You listen, mostly because you’re surprised she even followed, and together you walk up to him. “Hey, bee. I thought you’d be long gone by now.”

Jonathan looks up at your voice, surprised when he sees Nancy next to you. He gives you a look that you conclude is a what is she doing here? look and you can only shrug as if to say I have no clue how I ended up in this situation.

Nancy doesn’t see this exchange. “Hey,”

“Hey,” Jonathan responds, still confused.

Nancy looks at you uncertainly, but you refuse to leave. Screw your exam, if she even considers voicing her boyfriend’s opinions to Jonathan then you’ll personally see that she fails alongside you. “I just… I wanted to say, you know… I’m sorry, about everything.”

Oh, she’s being nice. You’re still unimpressed, but Jonathan motions to you to stop staring her down, so you reluctantly listen.

“Everyone’s thinking about you.”

You all turn towards Steve and his group, who are clearly listening in, and you snort at her words. “Right, obviously.”

“Y/N.” Jonathan warns.

“Sorry.”

“It sucks.” Nancy continues, and you have to give her some credit. You’re being a blatant bitch, but she’s still trying. You feel a bit bad now, which honestly makes you dislike her a bit more. Damn morals. “I’m sure he’ll be fine, he’s a smart kid.”

The bell rings, ending Nancy’s little monologue. “I have to go, chemistry test. Y/N, want to walk together?”

She really makes it impossible to be a bitch to her. “Sure, just give me a second.”

You lean close to Jonathan and lower your voice. “Good luck with your dad, bee.”

“How did you know I’d go-”

“Because of course you would. Now go, give him hell for me, will ya?”

Jonathan nods, relieved you aren’t pushing the topic. You know that Lonnie is a sore topic for him, for the entire Byers family, really. You only knew Lonnie for a year or so before Joyce left him, but you’ll never forget his spiteful words and the bruises that Jonathan tried to hide from you. He needs to do this alone, father and son.

You see Nancy watching, and just to spite her you kiss Jonathan’s cheek, relishing in the fact that she looks away, and you wish him luck once again before following her to class.

The test isn’t as bad as you’d feared, and the rest of the day goes by with relative ease. You don’t see much of Steve and his group and you’re thankful for that. Nancy also keeps her distance, no longer attempting to be all buddy buddy with you. A part of you feels bad about that, because honestly the thought of someone thinking you hate them makes you feel physically ill, but as long as Nancy is with someone like Steve, there’s not much you can do about that.

After school you stop by all of Jonathan’s classes and collect the work he’s missed over the last few days; he has enough to worry about, so you figured you could help do some assignments for him. It’s nothing unusual, truth to be told. There was a time you were out for two weeks straight due to the flu one year and Jonathan did every one of your assignments, so it’s about time you returned the favor.

Once you have what you need, you hang up the remaining flyers in your bag and begin your journey to work. You’ve used up all of your sick days helping the Byers, and while Mrs. Waters has insisted on letting you have more time off, you figured the distraction would be good for you. Jonathan will want some space after confronting his dad, and as much as you hated Lonnie, something told you he had nothing to do with Will.

Just when your shift is almost done, your coworker, this young kid named Alex who you’re honestly surprised can legally work, informs you that your mom is on the phone and wants to speak with you. You stack the remaining books in your hands and thank him, walking over to pick up the call.

“Hey, mom. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, sweetie! I was just calling to tell ya that Dusty is at the Wheeler’s tonight for dinner, so my plan for ribs won’t work without him. I was wondering if darling Johnny could feed you tonight? I know the two of you have that little sneaky food game.”

Your posture, once slumped over and uninterested, now straightens out. Why the hell is Dustin having dinner at the Wheeler’s? They never do that. “Uh, sure mom that won’t be an issue.”

Your mom lets out a sigh of relief. “Bless that Jonathan! I’ve always liked him…”

Your mom may be the biggest Jonathan supporter you’ve ever met. “Yeah, he’s your favorite. I know,” you shift a bit to catch Alex’s attention, mouthing to him that you need to leave work early. “Hey, did Dustin by chance say how long he’ll be at the Wheeler’s? I can swing by and pick him up after my shift.”

“Oh, I think he’s staying the night there. He mentioned something about Mike not finishing his part of their little science project?”

They’re calling the little girl a science project now? Boys are so typical. “Oh, I see. Well, I gotta get back to work, mom. I’ll be home late tonight.”

Your mom wishes you goodbye and warns you not to be out too late. You hum, already trying to figure out the quickest route to the Wheeler’s house. You can’t say you’re surprised that Mike didn’t follow the plan, but you also can’t say you were prepared for this either.

Alex comes back with your boss and you quickly make up a lie about not feeling well. Mrs. Waters gives you a pitying look and tells you to go. You’re incredibly grateful for her, she’s like a grandmother to you and has always been so kind.

You quickly bike to Mike’s house, going over a grand speech in your head for the boys. Logistically speaking, you’re not sure if they can even harbor the little girl in his basement. Would it be kidnapping? Could kids even kidnap other kids? You aren’t sure and you definitely aren’t willing to find out.

You arrive at the house just as Nancy and Barb are pulling out of the driveway, presumably to Steve’s grand house party. They wave at you awkwardly and you don’t have it in you to wave back. You park your bike next to their doorstep and knock on the door.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Mrs. Wheeler asks after opening the door.

“Oh, I was just wondering if I could hang out with the boys tonight? Jonathan’s busy and I promised Dustin I’d help with their campaign.”

Mrs. Wheeler cocks her head at you. “But I thought there was a special assembly at the school for Will? Nancy and Barb just left for it.”

You feel your blood boil a bit. There was no assembly for Will at your school, and it was really damn low of Nancy to use his disappearance as a cover story for her stupid party. She’s known Will since he was practically a baby. You have no idea how someone could be so unaffected by a missing child, let alone one who has been at your house every damn weekend for years now.

“Oh, that!” You force yourself to remain calm; there isn’t time to snitch on Nancy, Mrs. Wheeler would only have more questions for you. “Yeah, I’m, uh, skipping it. Jonathan doesn’t want to go, so after he’s back from his errands I’m heading over to his place to, you know, comfort him?”

The woman stares at you for a second, trying to determine if there are any lies to your words. You’ve never been the best liar, but being the oldest Henderson child has unfortunately prepared you for being quick on your feet when needed.

“Well, come on then. They boys just went downstairs, and if you can please remind them to bring the plate of food back up here I’d really appreciate it.”

You thank Mrs. Wheeler and let yourself in. Her words have all but solidified your suspicions: Mike kept the girl.

When you descend the basement steps, it’s almost comical how the kids scramble to hide the girl like little cockroaches. They run around and Dustin screams something about covering her before the poor girl is being manhandled into a sheet as Mike screams at Lucas and Dustin to calm down.

“Guys! It’s just me! Jesus!” You shout, shoving past Mike to rush over to the girl and free her from the sheets. She looks more frightened than usual, but at least she’s alive.

“God, why am I always the one you push?”

You shush Mike, smoothing back the girl’s hair and offering her a reassuring smile. “Remember me, sweetheart?”

The girl nods and softly says, “Y/N.”

“Very good. I’m going to scream at my brother real quick, so why don’t you cover your ears for me so you don’t get too frightened?”

“Wait, what-”

The minute her ears are covered, you turn to Dustin and begin screaming. “Are you brain dead and not understand the words ‘tell me if anything weird happens’ or do you simply lack the appropriate empathy needed for a concerned sister?”

Dustin ducks his head in shame. “Y/N, look-”

“No! I’m all for helping you guys with your adventures and whatever, but Will went missing and then she appears and Mike,” you turn to him and he hides behind a frightened Lucas. “You said you’d stick to your plan. Now tell me, did you?”

Mike shakes his head, his eyes wide. Dustin looks no better as he cowers behind the others. Lucas simply shrugs, knowing that this would happen. You never, ever, yell at the boys; the few times you have in the past, all hell had broken loose.

“Y/N-”

“Zip it, Henderson. I’m so pissed off at you right now and if you want to make it to thirteen I suggest you keep quiet.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Now, why don’t you guys catch me up on what you’ve so sweetly kept hidden from me.” It’s worded as a question, but the boys know better than to deny you.

You sit on the ground so that you’re next to the girl and then motion for the three boys in front of you to start speaking. They look at Mike, giving him a nudge, and he hesitantly steps forward to begin speaking. “Her name is El.”

The girl, El, looks up at you and smiles. You return the smile and knock your shoulder against hers in a playful manner. “Nice to meet you, can I ask what El is short for?”

“Eleven,” she says, and you want to question the name further but the look on Mike’s face stops you. Now is not the time, you guess.

“El, she’s… different.” Mike continues, looking around nervously. He’s acting as if someone could break in any second and snipe you guys, and a part of you doesn’t doubt it can happen. “She has these powers, like, mind control powers.”

You snort, unable to stop yourself. El looks at you, looking unoffended, seemingly expecting this reaction. However, Mike groans at you. “Y/N, this is serious. She-she knows about Will.”

At this, your smile fades and you feel an overwhelming sense of hope take over you. You find your arms wrapping around El before you can control yourself and you give her a tight hug. She stiffens in your arms and you immediately pull away. “I’m sorry, I just… sorry.”

She laughs a bit, softly saying that it’s okay.

“Do you really know Will? Where he is?” You ask, almost too scared to say the words out loud. If she’s telling the truth… you shake your head in an attempt to dispel any false hope. You don’t know this girl, she could be lying.

Before El can say anything else, Mike speaks for her. “She does, but there’s bad men out there who want to hurt her. I think they’re after Will, too.”

You freeze. “Bad men?”

“Yes, this is why we didn’t want to tell you!”

“I wanted to tell her,” Lucas says, which causes Mike to glare at him.

You wave your arms at the two boys, breaking up their fight. “Mike, what do you mean by bad men? Honey,” you look at El, “did someone hurt you? Are you in danger? Should I call the police?”

“No!” All three boys shout at once.

You look at them, at the genuine fear in their eyes, and sigh, “Okay, if you can give me a good reason not to call the cops, I won’t.”

“Did you not hear the part about El having powers?” Dustin asks.

“Gee, Dustin. You’re right! It’s like her having powers is totally believable and reassuring to the situation at hand!”

“I can show you,” El speaks up.

You all face her now. “You can?”

She nods at you, getting up and grabbing your backpack that you threw on the ground when you walked in. She rustles through it while you and the boys look at one another. After a few seconds, El grabs one of your comic books and places it on the table. She looks at you and tilts her head, indicating for you to sit down next to her; you do as you’re told.

El straightens out your comic and then closes her eyes, going completely still. The air around you shifts and you can practically feel the static electricity encasing you; the hair on your arms stand up. The pages of the comic begin to flick up, fluttering as if someone is thumbing through them in rapid succession. You watch as the Spidey panels flash before your eyes, the pages flying faster and faster until it becomes almost frightening to be near. Then, once it gets to its last page, the comic flies up into the air and hovers for a few seconds, right in front of your face.

“Holy shit,” you breathe out, your eyes wide.

Just as quickly as it began, the comic drops back onto the table. You look up at El and see that her nose is now bleeding, which rips you back to reality. The chair scrapes against the ground as you get up to help her, dabbing at the blood with a tissue that had been laying on the table.

“Do you believe us now?” Mike asks, a smug look on his face.

You gently wipe away the remaining blood from El’s face, looking her in the eye and directing your words to her. “I’m listening, sweetheart. What can you do to help us find Will?”

El smiles, pleased to have earned your trust, and you get the feeling that this little girl is the most powerful thing in all of Hawkins, maybe even the world. At her request, Mike places his DnD board on the table and arranges the pieces for El to use. She sits down and closes her eyes once more.

Lucas gives you a doubtful look. “What’s the weirdo doing?”

You flick his head, not enjoying the name calling. Honestly, you thought you raised these boys better than that.

El seems to accomplish whatever she was doing and picks up the wizard piece, murmuring, “Will.”

You feel your heart stop. Will always insisted on being the wizard whenever they played the game. He was Will the Wise, forever and always. El couldn’t have simply guessed that, and you know it’s her-

“Superpowers,” Dustin finishes your thought for you. The two of you exchange a glance and you notice the slight glee in his eyes. Under different circumstances, you’d also find this all pretty cool.

Mike sits next to El and begins to ask some questions about where she last saw Will. She gives him a look that you can’t quite decipher before swiping her arm across the table and spilling the pieces onto the floor. She then flips the board over, having it now face upside down, and places Will’s piece back down.

You knit your brows together, trying to follow along. El’s movements are methodical and carefully planned, being unable to find the right words due to her poor speech, and you try to piece together the information you’ve been given.

“I don’t understand,” Mike says, being extra gentle with El. You’ve never seen him so soft spoken before and you’re grateful at least one of the boys doesn’t view her as some monster. Which reminds you that you need to have a conversation with Dustin about respecting women, but for now you’ll hold off.

“Hiding.” says El.

He’s good at hiding, Jonathan’s words echo in your head.

“Will is hiding?”

El nods, now looking more nervous. You can tell that Mike is getting closer to information that she doesn’t want him near, which finally causes you to ask the question that’s been heavily on your mind. “From the bad men?”

Now El gives a slight shake of the head, and Mike presses on. “Then from who?”

Without saying anything, El places a second piece onto the board right in front of Will’s. It’s a piece you’re unfamiliar with, with two snake-like heads that loom over the small wizard piece. Whatever it is, you know it isn’t good judging the way Mike, Dustin, and Lucas look at each other in fear.

You turn to Dustin and whisper, “What’s that piece?”

Your brother puts his hands behind his head and sighs deeply, a new resigned look on his face. He looks as if he’s just aged thirty years, which you find a bit dramatic. “It’s the Demogorgon.”

“The Demo-what?” The name sounds familiar, but you can’t remember anything about it.

Mike looks at you and for once his voice holds no annoyance when he says, “There’s a lot we still have to catch you up on.”

–

Your head is spinning as you bike to Jonathan’s with all the new information you’ve just received. Demogorgons, magical vortexes, kids with damn superpowers. It’s all a lot for you to take in, and while you fully believe that El is something entirely different from a normal little girl, how can you be sure that it’s connected to Will? While his disappearance still confuses you, it’s illogical to jump to supernatural conclusions.

Dustin had begged you to let him spend the night at Mikes in order to keep talking to El, and you only agreed because you figured you’d be at Jonathan’s again tonight anyways. He’s been MIA all day and you’re worried as usual, but you made him and Mike swear to you that they’d stay put in the house. At least this way they’re in one place, so if they screw around they’ll be easier to find.

When you arrive at the Byers home you notice that Jonathan’s car isn’t in the driveway, which only confuses you further. Where the hell is he? You gave him all day to deal with Lonnie and cool off, trusting that he wouldn’t do anything stupid for twelve hours, and yet…

You fear he’s done something stupid.

You don’t have time to think too much about Jonathan’s absence because a frantic Joyce runs out the door screaming. She runs straight past you and into her car, and the house begins to light up like a christmas tree. You can hear The Clash’s Should I Stay or Should I Go, a song that Will once had on repeat for three weeks straight, and you can feel the same static electricity in the air that you felt when El used her powers in front of you.

Joyce suddenly gets out of the car and spots you, pointing towards her house. “You see that too?”

You swallow. “Yeah,”

She nods, as if your confirmation is all she needs to determine her sanity, and then marches inside. You stand in the yard, motionless. You’re terrified, and after learning about El tonight, you don’t have it in you to discover any other supernatural beings in Hawkins at the moment. Sighing, you follow after the woman because Jonathan isn’t home and someone needs to talk her down from whatever panic attack the flashing lights have inevitably caused.

“Mrs. Byers-”

“Y/N, you can’t tell me there isn’t something,” Joyce waves her hands in front of her face, almost grasping at the air, “weird about all of this. That was Will’s song, the lights were flashing in Will’s room, something came out of Will’s wall-”

“Something came out of his wall?”

“Yes! I’m not… I promise I’m not crazy, okay? You saw it, please tell me you saw it.”

You bite your lip, now thinking about El. You swore to Mike you wouldn’t tell anyone about her, and honestly you’re not sure that you should tell Joyce about her right now. You’re still unsure if El is being honest with you, and you can’t just give the woman false hope for her son. It’d kill you if you were wrong about El. But seeing the lights, hearing the music, the thing in the wall… There’s something that she’s not telling you.

“Mrs. Byers… I’m not quite sure what I saw, but we just had a bad storm and it could be faulty wiring.”

Joyce slumps her shoulders, frustrated that you aren’t conspiring with her. You just… you can’t. Not yet. Not before you figure out what the hell El is doing in Hawkins. You refuse to worsen Joyce’s already chronic anxiety and paranoia; Jonathan would never forgive you if you fed into her delusions, but it kills you to lie to her.

“Look, I do think that something is weird about this entire situation, “ Joyce’s face lights up, but you’re quick to add, “however, there’s no proof. You, I mean-Mrs. Byers, you’ve seen things in the past. You’re stressed, and anxious, and all the other synonyms.”

The woman lets a few tears drop from her eyes, now embarrassed. “Maybe you’re right. I-I’m sorry, honey. I just-”

You grab her hand. “I know,”

Her smile is brittle, a ghost of the once beautiful smile she’d give you, and your heart breaks for her.

After your conversation, Joyce excuses herself to her room. She looks even more exhausted than before, so you leave her alone and hole yourself up in Jonthan’s room.

You glance at your watch and note the late hour; you’re starting to worry now. Jonathan didn’t mention anything besides Lonnie and the posters, so you don’t know what else he could be doing so late. He wouldn’t go searching for Will without you.

You wake up to Jonathan returning an hour or so later, apparently having fallen asleep while waiting for him.

“Y/N?” His voice is gruff and surprised.

You groan and rub your eyes. “Turn the light off, bee.”

He doesn’t. “What are you doing here?”

The tone of his voice wakes you up a bit, making you sit up and look at him more clearly. His shoulders are tense, his eyes are hiding something, and his overall demeanor is hard to read. “I had something to tell you, but is everything okay?”

“You couldn't have waited until tomorrow? Y/N, this is my house, just… just get out.”

“I’m sorry?” You’re confused by his behavior, now starting to become a bit defensive and hurt by his dismissal.

“You can’t just let yourself in whenever you please.” Jonathan puts his camera on his desk, still refusing to meet your eyes.

“Jonathan, we literally have always let ourselves into each other’s houses whenever we please.”

He rolls his eyes at you and rips off his jacket, throwing it at you. “Get out!”

You catch the jacket before it hits you in the face. “What the hell, Jonathan!”

“Listen, I get that you think you’re a part of the family, but you’re not. You’ve been here for days now, it’s getting old.”

His words cut through you and leave vicious wounds against your skin. He doesn’t mean that, he can’t mean that. You and him were family. He’s never, ever insinuated anything less. He wouldn’t dare. Your Jonathan would never act like this to you, and the only time he’s ever been this cruel to you was when he accidentally dropped Lonnie’s last beer in the fridge and was too embarrassed and ashamed to ask for help; he’d shown up with bruises later that night.

Then it hits you. He did something, something that makes him feel guilty; he keeps glancing at his camera. You soften your voice, “Bee, what did you do?”

He whips around, now yelling. “Nothing! Just get the hell out of my house! It’s getting pathetic!”

You swallow back the angry tears that build in your throat. Fine. Whatever. Let him be a raging bitch after everything you’ve done for him these last few days.

“Fine, I will.” Grabbing your backpack you snatch the assignments you were supposed to give Jonathan and slam them against his chest. “Here’s all your fucking assignments, by the way.”

He seems to come back to himself, blinking away the anger and shame. “Bug…”

“You don’t get to call me that.” And with that, you don’t spare Jonathan another glance.

–

When you get home, the house is eerily quiet. Dustin is at Mike’s and your mom leaves you a note saying that she’s spending the night at your aunt’s. Great. Looks like it’s just you and Mews tonight then.

After everything that’s happened tonight, you never found time to eat dinner, and your stomach is loudly growling. You drop your stuff in your room and then reheat some leftovers, feeling like a pathetic child. You know that Jonathan didn’t mean what he said, but the words had come too easily to him to have just been a way to dodge his guilt. There had been some truth to them. Maybe you were pathetic for always fretting over him.

Dinner is quiet tonight.

You wait for the phone to ring, for Jonathan to call you and apologize, but the call never comes.

You’ve never felt so alone before.

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ if you would like to be added/removed from my taglist, just let me know :)

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #wdtai #m's writing #the thought of steve just taking will's missing poster and then being like oh shit was so funny to me i had to add it #also sad ending #sorry #but also not

486 notes · View notes

livwritesstuff · 7 months

Text

i’ve been very quiet so srry - my week started with my annual performance review (which went well) and ended with an emergency surgery (also went well) so…a lot going on to say the least

this is a deleted scene from the first chapter of plant a seed

When Robin called, Steve and Eddie were in the phase of newborn parenthood where they froze every single time the phone rang (because said newborn was napping more often than not and when she was, there was a 50% chance minimum the phone would wake her up).

So when Robin called and the ringing of the phone broke the otherwise peaceful silence, Steve froze and he waited. When the baby didn't wake up, Steve exhaled a sigh of relief and answered the call.

"This is Steve."

"Hey Steve-o!"

Steve immediately recognized the voice as Robin's – of course he did, even if he hadn't heard it since she and Nancy left for a work trip in Japan a little over a month ago.

“Oh shit,” Steve said, because this means that Robin and Nancy are finally home, finally back in their Boston apartment fifteen minutes away from his and Eddie's in Cambridge instead of the opposite side of the entire world, “You’re home!”

“Yep,” Robin replied, popping the P, “That plane was a million degrees, I’m pretty sure. No more August flights if I have any say in it. Anyways – wanted to let you know we made it back unscathed. What’s new with you guys?”

“Uh…” Steve began, not totally sure where to start, because Robin didn't know about the baby he and Eddie had been placed with two weeks ago and she certainly didn't know that they're going to adopt her (because they'd landed on that decision that very day – about two hours ago, to be specific), “Well–”

“Hey, do you still have those placements?" Robin interrupted, "The kids who like to read the Goosebumps books?”

“Oh,” Steve blinked, “No. They went back with their mom a couple days after you left.”

“Damn. Been a while. Forgot this trip was longer than usual – wait, so are you between placements now, then? Hey, we should finally make that trip to P-Town!”

"Might need a raincheck on that," Steve said with a laugh, because at the moment a trip to the goddamn grocery store required at least a day's worth of planning, "We've got another placement right now – a newborn. We've had her for, uh, for just under two weeks, pretty sure."

“Shit, a newborn?" Robin repeated.

Steve faintly heard Nancy's voice, though he couldn't make out exactly what she was saying. He listened as Robin recounted to her what he'd just said, then started to laugh.

"Nancy just said that if she misses out on a chance to hold a new baby, she'll kill you," Robin told him, "Any idea when she might move on?”

Steve paused for a second. He and Eddie had decided earlier that they wouldn’t be telling anyone about the baby until the adoption was finalized, but…it’s Robin.

He doesn’t think he’s ever kept a secret from Robin before, certainly not something this big and certainly not for very long.

He has to tell her.

“We’re, uh, we’re actually adopting her.”

Robin was silent.

Then –

“Holy shit – Steve.”

And then –

“I’m coming over right now. Immediately. Wait–” Robin stopped, “Damn, I can’t be a dick and come over unannounced anymore, can I? Because you guys have a baby. A baby. And she’s gonna be yours? What the fuck? Wait, let me start over.”

Robin paused long enough to take a deep breath.

“Steve Harrington – my best friend who’s finally fulfilling a lifelong dream of becoming a dad – when will you allow us to come and be formally introduced to our niece?”

Truth be told, Steve wouldn’t say no to a visit from Robin and Nancy that day (especially after the our niece comment), but their case worker had just started faxing over all the paperwork to get the ball rolling on the adoption process and Steve has a feeling that he might catch Eddie trying to fill that shit out as it came out of the machine so tonight they might be a little occupied.

"Tomorrow?" he suggested.

"Morning?" Robin added.

Steve laughed, "Sure. Tomorrow morning."

"Bright and early, dad. Holy fuck, I can't believe you're a dad."

"You can't?"

"No, I totally can."

#remember faxing?#i don't but it was def a thing in 2001 #liv’s steddie dads verse #stobin #steddie #steve harrington #robin buckley #ronance #-> hesitant to tag bc ik folks get annoyed when steddie content clogs up the ronance tag but this is mostly stobin - will delete if asked

262 notes · View notes

ms-scarletwings · 9 months

Text

A scene from Invader Zim I seem to find way creepier than anyone else does

youtube

It’s just weirdly good horror to me as a years later rewatch somehow. Dripping with menace.

Long time fans know this is one of the most theatric and chatty characters in the show, alone or not. He also more often than not gets over -ahem, denies- setback and mission fumbles in record time. Not here. Just the silence that lets you truly hear that eerie ass ambience in the background. Just watching him reviewing back collected surveillance, on presumably what’s supposed to be human child behavioral data (this was still season 1 after all), but he’s neither mocking the subjects nor boasting about himself for once. He’s not even complaining or getting into one of his spiels. It’s just that cut back to the reel of a dozen pains he’s suffered at the Skool, cut back to that stone still expression, cut back to the tapes. You don’t know if they’re all from a singularly horrible day or a pile of weeks of humiliations stacking on a camel’s back. You get nothing of explanation except for that quiet seething in his expression- The scariest kind of angry. It’s Zim, ruminating on a god’s honest murderous rage, toward this species that seems to only justify his contempt of them with every single interaction. Almost as if you can watch this and imagine his hatred just getting hotter and hotter for all mankind under the surface, and then narrowing in like a magnifying glass straight onto the worst and most frequent offender of all. Those four consecutive Dib clips are what finally seem to make him feel like he’s seen enough and he’s fully decided on beginning to craft what we later find out was the Moosey wormhole plan. If it was only about Dib standing in the way of the mission, like he frames it, this episode intro wouldn’t serve any purpose. It was about so much more than Dib probably ever thinks about, the axe forgets and all that.

To me this clip is like the one moment where I swear to Tallest Zim was feeling on a kind of Nny wavelength in that isolated instant,

AND it’s one of many moments where I shake my head remembering how Dib’s average Tuesday is spent more recklessly than poking a sleeping dragon in the eye with a stick.

#iz #invader zim #iz analysis #ZaDE #jthm reference #iz clips #Irken Zim #Room with a moose #scarlet rambles about things #scarlet talks about things #Youtube

291 notes · View notes

thechanelmuse · 8 months

Text

How to Get a Menacing Bully to Spiral & Destroy Their Reputation and Brand 😮‍💨

Back in 2021, I reviewed The 48 Laws of Power. One of my favorites. As stated then, it's a well-researched “handbook on the art of indirection” that’s filled with stories and strategies on how societies, groups and individuals throughout history to the present-day have navigated to obtain and/or maintain power. People consider this book to be evil if you're viewing it from a perspective of offense. But if you're an observant and analytical person like myself, you'll simultaneously view it from a perspective of defense on how to protect yourself from someone else's power.

Megan Thee Stallion's "Hiss" to unbothered silence and Nicki Minaj's 3-day unhinged crash out is a perfect 48 Laws of Power moment.

Megan epitomizes Law 4 and Nicki, who's always viewed herself as untouchable, superior to "her sons," and the self-proclaimed Queen of Rap, destroys Law 5.

Law 4: Always Say Less Than Necessary

When you are trying to impress people with words, the more you say, the more common you appear, and the less in control. Even if you are saying something banal, it will seem original if you make it vague, open-ended, and sphinxlike. Powerful people impress and intimidate by saying less. The more you say, the more likely you are to say something foolish.

"Power is in many ways a game of appearances, and when you say less than necessary, you inevitably appear greater and more powerful than you are. Your silence will make other people uncomfortable. Humans are machines of interpretation and explanation; they have to know what you are thinking. When you carefully control what you reveal, they cannot pierce your intentions or your meaning.

"Your short answers and silences will put them on the defensive and they will jump in, nervously filling the silence with all kinds of comments that will reveal valuable information about them and their weaknesses. [...] In most areas of life, the less you say, the more profound and mysterious you appear. [...] Once the words are out, you cannot take them back. Keep them under control. The momentary satisfaction you gain with your biting words will be outweighed by the price you pay."

Law 5: So Much Depends On Reputation — Guard It With Your Life

Reputation is the cornerstone of power: through reputation alone you can intimidate and win; once it slips however you are vulnerable and will be attacked on all sides. Make your reputation unassailable. Always be alert to potential attacks and thwart them before they happen. Meanwhile learn to destroy your enemies by opening holes in their own reputations. Then stand aside and let public opinion hang them.

Before I continue with more excerpts from this law, I wanna point out that Nicki's behavior and slander felt like a struggling display of an overt narcissist trying to discard their perceived enemy. People with that condition, lack empathy overall, spiral and lash out to end you emotionally and mentally when you publicly embarrass them and/or privately shut them out when you cause their mask to fall. Manic anger. Just keep that in mind.

More excerpts:

"A solid reputation increases your presence and exaggerates your strengths without your having to spend much energy. It can also create an aura around you that will instill respect, even fear.[...]

"Make your reputation simple and base it on one sterling quality. This single quality — efficiency, say, or seductiveness — becomes a kind of calling card that announces your presence and places others under a spell. [...] Perhaps you have already stained your reputation, so that you are prevented from establishing a new one. In such cases it is wise to associate with with someone whose image counteracts your own, using their good name to whitewash and elevate your own.

"Once [your reputation] is solid, do not let yourself get angry or defensive at the slanderous comments of your enemies—that reveals insecurity, not confidence. Take the high road instead, and never appear desperate in your self-defense.

"You must not seem to engage in petty 😏 vengeance. If you do not break your enemy's reputation cleverly, you will inadvertently ruin your own."

Emotions cloud reason while silence is golden.

Nevermind that Nicki emboldened her cult following of fans to dox Erykah Badu, Victoria Monét, Lil Ju (Megan's producer), the resting place of Megan's mother 🪦, and anyone who verbalized or appeared to be on opposition... There's a whole chapter in this book on cults: Law 27.

Checkmate, Megan.

#megan thee stallion #hiss #nicki minaj #big foot #48 laws of power #robert greene

174 notes · View notes

luvrodite · 11 months

Text

TONIGHT YOU ARE MINE JASON TODD (7.8K)

synopsis you hadn’t meant to screw it all up. only a few months ago, you’d been spending your nights in a bed that wasn’t yours, sure that it would last. it was always going to be him, and then suddenly it wasn’t. OR: an au where jason is your band's guitarist and one single review makes your world come crashing down.

cw: gn!reader, afab! reader, band!au, breakup, angst, self loathing reader, exes to lovers, stephanie brown is a meddler, roy harper cameo, porn with plot, car sex, exhibitionism, piv sex, minor spanking (like once), emotional/angry sex. minors and ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked

Everyone in the crowd can sense the underlying tension. Only a year ago, you’d spent the majority of tour unable to go five minutes without reaching for or looking Jason.

You’d feel sorry for tonight’s crowd, the last night of tour is always supposed to go out with a bang, but you haven’t been able to so much as approach the pretty guitarist this evening without feeling heat rise in your chest, wicked curls of anger licking at your wounds everytime you near him. November skies descend on the crowd with a chill rivalling your own and you stay a good range away from the taller man at all times, repelled like opposite poles.

Jason, similarly, keeps his eyes on the strings, a hard edge to his jaw.

On the drums, Steph flicks her eyes between the both of you, sharing a thinly veiled look of discomfort with one of the sound technicians backstage.

It’s been like this all month, and though the both of you had managed to keep it somewhat professional it’s clear everyone has begun to feel the weight of the awkward silences suffocating the dressing room. The blonde fears if you open your mouth at all, no one will leave the room alive, lips often pursed so tightly as though you’re keeping a barrage of words locked away.

You refuse to look at Jason at any given moment, and though your voice remains level when you address him, it isn’t so much an address as it is talking at him, instructions doled out like a military seargent, stiff and impersonal.

There’s no shadow of the playfulness that had just about driven her insane in the spring, no lingering touches and the stolen kisses in the summer when you’d still thought no one had caught on. (They’d all been very aware, given the poorly hidden love bites on the guitarist’s neck and the added secrecy in your shared grins) No whispers in the dressing room, no ganging up on Roy–she felt as though she’d fallen into the worst timeline.

They’re coming up on one of their most popular songs, and Steph’s feeling the heat of the stage lights despite the bite of late Fall, beads of sweat crowding at her temples when you fiddle with your mic on stage and there seems to be no intent of committing to your usual tradition. If the crowd hasn’t already picked up on your obvious tension, they’re sure to when you’re singing almost in the wings instead of wrapping yourself around Jason like you’d made sure to every single concert since your first big gig.

It’s fine, she tries to assure herself, but her eyes track your movement and you’ve planted yourself firmly away from him and she knows the media is going to have a field day with this. She can already see the headlines, every quack with expertise in body language is going to be crawling out of the woodwork to analyse this–and the worst part is, they wouldn’t be wrong. Her own despair is painted on her face in a frown that she isn’t so sure she can explain as concentration.

Roy, nearby, looks over his shoulder and she can tell by the slant of his mouth that he’s displeased. He mouths a single word at her.

She looks back to you, to Jason, to the crowd. You close your eyes, arms outstretched as you spin in slow circles, and Jason picks at the strings of his guitar, lifting his eyes only for a moment to gaze at you. It’s the confusion painted on one of the front row attendees that seals her decision.

Blue eyes narrow at Roy and she tips her chin in agreement.

“No.”

“Are you serious?” Steph explodes in front of you, hands flying up. You look at her evenly, sat on the couch in your dressing room, nursing the bottle of water you’d snagged from the fridge. You’ve changed out of your outfit into something looser, feeling the itch to get out of the get up the moment you’d stepped off stage and into the wings.

“Does it sound like I’m joking?” you snap. “I get you guys are concerned, but you need to stay out of it.”

“How are we supposed to stay out of it when the both of you can’t even be normal around each other?” she retorts, flicking a heavily hairsprayed lock of blonde hair over her shoulder. Her face gleams in the aftermath of the concert, eyeliner smudged and lipstick all but faded on bitten lips. Even out of her get up, she still looks formidable.

“Listen,” you say, feeling your chest twist uncomfortably under her piercing gaze. Your hands feel slippery around the cold plastic, and you fiddle with the label, picking at the corner with your fingernail. “I’m sorry we went and made things all weird, but I didn’t mean to. Pretty sure he’ll tell you the same thing. But what do you want from me, Brown? It’s just gonna take a bit of time, I don’t know what else to tell you.”

And it’s the truth.

You hadn’t meant to screw it all up. Only a few months ago, you’d been spending your nights in a bed that wasn’t yours, sure that it would last. You’d never been so careless with anyone, ever, but it was Jason.

The sound of his name, the very thought of him, empties your lungs of air. He had always been there, constant, steadying, Jason. It had always been the both of you in this together. His had been the hand you sought for when the flashes got to be too much. When the homesickness hit hard and you spent days in bed skipping out on rehearsals and meetings it had been Jason who’d showed up and shoved you into the shower and sat outside talking to you the entire time, who’d stripped your bed and replaced the sheets.

It was always going to be him, and then suddenly it wasn’t.

How were you supposed to come back from that unscathed? How the fuck were you supposed to go back to teasing touches on stage and near kisses over your microphone like it didn’t mean a thing?

You hadn’t lost your boyfriend, in that fight, but your partner, too. Steph and Roy were your best friends, too, but Jason was your heart. And you’d gone and broken it all on your own.

Steph must see it in your face, as you slump back into the couch, because she sighs, dropping down into the seat next to you. She kicks her shoes off, sneakers hitting the floor a few feet away with a thud and she curls into your side, pressing her cheek to your shoulder.

The TV in the corner switches on and some late night talk show provides a soundtrack for you to sit in your despair.

What a way to finish the tour.

You throw yourself into Jason’s arms with a drunken giggle and he catches you, arms coming up to steady you, an easy grin on his handsome face. In the dim light of the dive bar, the shadows sharpen his already strong features, teal eyes boring down into yours affectionately. You reach up with a careful hand, running your thumb under his brow where a speck of glitter lingers on his skin.

“Hello,” he rumbles and you can’t help yourself, pushing yourself up in his lap to slant your lips against his.

“Hi,” you breathe out, starry-eyed.

“You were amazing tonight,” he tells you, stealing another kiss before tucking you into his side and taking a swig from his bottle. His arm lies heavy around your middle, anchoring you to your seat on his thigh. Across the booth, at the bar, you can see your bandmates arguing as they wait for their drinks.

“Me!” you exclaim, reaching for the slice of pizza on the table. “You were amazing. And distracting. D’you have any idea how many times I almost forgot what I was singing ‘cause you looked at me?”

He laughs and the sound reverberates through your back, drawing a smile from you. You think you’ve barely spent a moment tonight not grinning, feeling the rush of satisfaction from playing the crowd. It’s been a good night–but then again, every night seems to be a good night, you think to yourself.

How could you not be happy, when it feels as though everything is finally going right?

Jason takes you home that night and kisses you silly in the back of the cab, fingers trailing dangerously under the hem of your shirt and swallowing your whispered protests in his mouth. And when you get home, he draws them from you tenfold, the noise spilling into the air of his bedroom where he can savour them uninhibited.

Having the boy in your bed, the stars within reach, soaring towards the sun, higher, higher with no end in sight. You are foolish to believe it’s everlasting. Being on top of the world blinds you, so focused on the clouds brushing your face that you forget the danger of misstep.

The end comes on a Wednesday afternoon, when a missive of 2000 words and an unrelenting pen strike you down where you stand, shoot you midair like an arrow. Falling feels like flying but you’ve never felt fear in the air til now.

Freefalling, you are stripped down to your barest parts and sewn back together with a few clumsy words–you can’t help but feel as though you’re missing an organ.

Only the combined efforts of your manager and Jason pull you from bed, four days of missed rehearsals are all they give you to mope before he storms the fortress.

“Up,” he demands, moving throughout your room and throwing the curtains open. Afternoon sunlight streams in, bright and merciless against your internal plight. Jason tugs the covers off, eyes blazing with forceful determination when you make to pull it back. “No. You need to get up. We gave you space, now you gotta get it together.”

An unintelligible noise is your only response, rolling over onto your stomach and groaning into your pillow. You’ve spent your tears, but you can feel your face burning once more and you refuse to let him see just how much this has affected you.

Your name leaves his lips, stern and stripped of its usual affection. “Cut the shit. You got a bad review. ‘S not the end of the world, kid. You can’t spend the rest of your life letting it get to you.”

You want to scream at him. You want to take him by the shoulders and yell, did you read the same article? How can you be so unfeeling?

A nasty, bitter part of you whispers that of course he wouldn’t understand. Why would he? They had nothing but praise for him, the pretty boy wordsmith of your band whose pen had produced the best of the band’s discography. And you know it isn’t unfounded, you know you’re being unfair–Jason is talented. You’d known it at seventeen, when the both of you had been messing around on his dad’s piano and you know it now. You’ve always loved him for it. He’d always celebrated your successes, you knew he deserved every bit of recognition he got.

You only wish it hadn’t come at your expense.

Green curls around your senses as he wrangles you out of bed and into the bathroom, leaking through your veins and only thickening as you wash yourself of the last few days.

When you emerge from the steam, it is with vengeance and a vow. Reborn, you gather what you can of your wings.

You’ll fly once more.

There are 15 unread messages on your phone and the light of the recording studio is the only thing keeping you company. The clock on the wall points to it being well into the night.

Your eyes burn as you stare at the pages of your notebook, ivory filled with scribbling you can make little sense of. It’s a brand new one, blue skinned and thick, pages pressed flat with disuse. All around the small coffee table you kneel in front of lie your old books, sheaves of loose paper fluttering under the expulsion of air from the nearby fan. Lines on lines of old writing, crossed out and highlighted and annotated with blood red ink, surround you.

Your muscles lie stiff in your back and hips, fingers curling around your pen. Empty bags of takeout lie abandoned and emptied behind you–you’ll surely be told off in the following morning when your manager returns, either for staying to work so late into the night or for bringing food into the studio.

“Do you plan to go home at all?”

You don’t flinch at the sound of Jason’s voice behind you. His reflection stands in the glass of the studio window, filling out the doorway in a manner that anybody else might find threatening. You ought to, too. There’s displeasure in his voice, disappointment in your habits.

Jason lets you get away with most things. His temper is sweet, at least where you’re concerned. You’ve never felt the need to test it, and rarely have you been the subject of his ire, so softened by time that it takes a great deal to be drawn. You’re used to his indulgence, his saved smiles and the gentleness of his hand and tone. This is a stark contrast to the honeyed words he reserves for you.

But it’s also your new normal. And isn’t that an awful thought, that you’ve grown used to it now, having heard it enough times in the last few weeks for it to lose its weight. Disappointing him, once upon a time, might’ve destroyed you. At seventeen, you couldn’t bear the thought of letting him down. But you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve caught his doleful look cast at you, mouth drawn in a hard line so uncannily like his father–another person you’ve let down, you’re sure, from the messages in your phone from him sitting untouched.

“I’ll go home when I finish,” you say tersely. Or you try to. It comes out mumbled, eyes tracking across your notes.

“Yeah?” Jason asks, stepping further into the room, shadow moving in your periphery. His voice is unimpressed, and you can sense the lecture coming. “When, exactly, is that gonna be?”

“Jason,” you hiss out, raising a hand as if to say, please just don’t.

“What.” he bites out and you squeeze your eyes irritatedly.

“Look, just–I’m busy. I’ve got to work on this. Go home.”

He ignores your dismissal and moves into your line of sight, and you stare stubbornly at your notes. Even when he drops to his knees across from you, you stare as though through sheer will, the lyrics will write themselves, letters spelling out onto the pages what will bring you back to grace.

“Work on what?” he presses, and you can feel your own temper beginning to burn. “You’re dead on your feet, you’re not gonna get anything done if you can barely keep your eyes open.”

“I’m–” you try, but he grabs your pen. You grab another, clenching your jaw so hard it hurts and his temper bursts.

“Will you look at me?”

He grabs your chin, and when you look at him finally, he is wide eyed and pleading but you are too far gone, poisoned by your own words and fears. Not even he could bring you back now, you have ventured out of Elysium, where he cannot reach. You find yourself apathetic, jagged, unflinching in the face of his tears. Cruel, and someone neither you nor he know.

“What is with you?” he demands and in the yellow light he looks a little crazed, hair messed and chest heaving, eyes electric green, almost luminescent. “You don’t talk to anyone, we barely see you, you don’t answer your phone. I’ve been trying to reach you all week, I–”

His face twists and you watch angry tears splash against his cheeks. “I thought something happened to you, you fucking idiot,” he seethes. “What is it, huh? You go totally ghost on us–on me and I find you here working on–what even is this? You never keep stuff from me.”

You watch the moment you break his heart when you shrug out of his hold, crystalline eyes fracturing when you scowl. His shoulders slump and you find just another thing about yourself to loathe.

“I’m fine,” you insist, your breathing growing shallow. Red and green cloud your vision, anger and envy spilling into your every word. “You know, I have my own shit. I don’t have to tell you everything.”

He looks helpless, confusion swimming in his expression. “I…I know that.”

“Do you?” you demand and he blinks rapidly. “You wouldn’t be barging in here like you have the right to know everything I do, if you did.”

“What?” Jason questions, but you’re determined to cut him now, your own angry tears blurring your vision.

“Listen, we can’t all be great like you, okay-”

“-That’s not fair-”

“Some of us,” you say loudly, “have to put in a little work because it doesn’t come to us naturally. We can’t all be goddamn prodigies, so excuse me if I’m just trying to catch up. I thought you’d be happy that I was finally putting effort into this band.”

“Hey,” he snaps. “I’ve never said you didn’t put any effort into this band. You know that I know you work hard.”

“Then what the fuck is your problem?” you exclaim, scrambling to your feet and he follows. The both of you stand toe to toe in the studio, heat in your faces as you descend into what is the first proper argument you’ve had in years. Part of you is screaming not to let it get this far, to quit while you’re ahead, while it’s still salvageable, but it’s drowned out by the roaring in your ears.

“My problem!” Jason echoes, scoffing. “You’re the one who’s lost it.”

“I’m doing this for the band!” you roar and you swear you see lightning in his eyes, teal blazing as he bears down on you.

“That is such bullshit,” he snarls and your heart quivers in its cage. “Do what you want but don’t stand here and lie to my fucking face like all of this is about the band. This is about you!”

You stand, silent as his voice breaks, anger filling the cracks like lava. “This is about you and this…complex you have, like you can’t ever be happy because you care too much about what people have to say–people who mean nothing. And I’m here, telling you otherwise but it’s like you’re so fucking determined to not hear me–like you wanna do it alone. We’re supposed to be in this together.”

It’s a plea and a reminder. Even in his anger he begs, beseeching you to remember, like it’ll somehow get through the wall you’ve constructed between the both of you to remind you–It’s you and me, kid and clasped hands in the back of the bus and the first demo and–please remember.

All you can hear is the whir of the fan in the wake of his words. Jason stands in front of you, grief lining the features of his beautiful face and you feel as though he will never be this close ever again. You can say nothing, your own tears spilling silent, dripping onto your collar. He closes his eyes, and nods, once. The very air between you shifts and you can feel the moment your heart cleaves in two.

“You wanna do it alone,” Jason says again and he sounds very, very tired, echoing your unsaid decision. He runs a hand over his face, and you hear him take a shuddering breath. “That’s fine…I won’t stop you. I hope it makes you happy.”

He turns and walks out of the room.

At your feet, the empty pages flutter.

Steph and Roy are, as far as they’re concerned, the best friends in the world. You aren’t so convinced.

In the week that follows the end of tour, you all return home. You hear little from Jason, who only speaks in the band group chat, but you aren’t expecting anything anyway. When you recall your words that night, you flinch. His expression is burned into your mind, and you don’t think you’re likely to forget it any time soon. Steph invites you out regularly, both directly and in the group chat.

You decline. And decline. And decline.

The pages of your notes remain ever unfinished, and the walls of your writing studio grow increasingly familiar. You think you would know it blindfolded. Pale winter sunlight does not fall here except in thin, ribboned streams, and when you return upstairs, it’s long after sundown. You’re lucky to see a few hours each day before you’re descending into the studio, determined or desperate you aren’t sure.

Jason has always been quiet on social media, but all of a sudden his face is plastered everywhere. Neither of you have removed the other–you think your manager would actually cuss you out for the stir that would cause. She hadn’t been pleased at your dating, and even less pleased at your separation, brown eyes narrowing at you in a way that left you wondering why you’d hired her at all.

His brother posts a photo on their family ski trip, and your heart twinges at the unknown girl in the background tucked next to him on the couch, pretty and beaming in a way that is effortless. Jason sits beside her with a half smile playing at his lips. Her account is private, and you switch your phone off when the feeling in your chest at finding he doesn’t follow her feels a little too much like relief that you have no right to feel.

January rolls around. You ring in the New Year alone, over a spread of sheet music and Thai food.

The world is blanketed in thick, powdery ice. You leave the house when even ordering in loses its charm, craving the warmth of a meal not delivered to your door, and the wind nips at your nose. The scarf around your neck belongs to someone else, but you had reached for it instinctively, hanging around the post by your front door, on your way out. Its weight is familiar in your hands, and your jaw aches as you loop it around yourself.

Lovers huddle close together in the streets, giggling when their shoes slip against the iced over pavement, and you avert your eyes. Holiday music filters through the speakers indoors, familiar jingles you might’ve found amusement in on any other occasion. In the produce section, you stare blankly at the array of greens, and end up exiting laden with a bag of groceries you don’t remember putting into your basket.

Back outside, you linger outside the store, listless and distracted. It’s then that you hear the call of your name, and a flash of blonde hair appears in your periphery.

“Hey!” Steph chirps, smacking a kiss on your cheek affectionately, arms winding around you tightly. “I haven’t seen you in ages! I didn’t expect to see you today.”

You squirm in her embrace, feeling your face flush. “Hi, Steph,” you murmur.

She pulls away, blue eyes bright and assessing as she takes you in. She’s lovely, pink cheeked and wind bitten. You know what you must look like, pallid and a little sickly from the lack of sunlight and you fidget, self conscious.

“You look like shit,” she says baldly, and it startles a laugh out of you. She grins at the sound of it.

“Thanks, Brown,” you say dryly, feeling a little easier. “You know exactly what I wanna hear.”

“What can I say,” she shoots back just as quickly, with a wink. “It’s a gift.”

“Definitely something, that’s for sure,” you mutter, cracking a grin and the both of you settle into silence. You eye your car in the distance, parked in the lot next to a red sedan, and then your groceries.

“I should–” you start, lifting the bag, but she cuts you off.

“Come out with us tonight,” she says, an oddly intent expression on her face, and you grimace. “We’re going to the place on Broad.”

“I don’t know…I’m making dinner. Maybe another time.”

You have little interest in dressing up to go out. You have even less interest in figuring out who the ‘us’ in question encompasses. But Steph’s got an unnervingly steely look in her eyes, like she’ll refuse any no’s you give her. Her lips flatten into a line, and she takes your hand.

“I haven’t seen you in months,” she says unhappily.

“You could’ve come by,” you remind her and she levels you with a deadpan look. Would you have let me in? Goes unsaid.

“That’s not the same and you know it. I miss you,” she stresses, and you have to give it to her–she’s good. Guilt curdles in your stomach and you avert your eyes. “We miss you. I’m the one who has to deal with Roy’s complaining now you’ve decided to hide at home.”

“I’m not hiding,” you mutter lamely, and she raises her brows pointedly, as if to say, really?

“Come out with us,” she says again, squeezing your fingers.

You sigh.

The snow has begun to fall in soft, light clusters when you get out of your car, streets twinkling in soft white and yellow. A snowflake lands in your lashes and you shiver when it dissolves, a minute stream of ice water running down your cheek.

Through the window of the restaurant, you can see your band mates tucked into a booth. Steph and Roy sit on opposite sides, already squabbling over something, and your heart slows when the latter leans across the table to point out something on his phone and Jason comes into view. Tucked into the corner, he watches the exchange with bored eyes, shaking his head when Steph turns to him. Don’t bring me into this, you can already read his lips, and that old familiar ache you’ve been nursing for the last few couple of months blooms behind your ribs once more.

You’re an idiot and a coward, standing on the side of the street debating on whether or not you should just go home.

In the end, your decision is made for you when Steph spots you through the window and bounds outside, making a face at you as she loops her arm around yours.

“Were you planning to stand outside all night like a freak?” she laughs, pulling you out of the cold and into the building. The rush of heat overwhelms you, rolling over you in waves as you enter.

“No, I was just…”

“Hm?” she raises an eyebrow, waiting for your answer. When she knows you can’t come up with one, her face relaxes. “I thought so. You’re here now, so come on.”

Whatever you think is going to happen when you approach the table is severely let down when you’re simply greeted with some semblance of normalcy. It feels like a farce, when Roy stands up to wrap you up into a hug that’s near bone-crushing, and over his shoulder, Jason greets you with a nod. Your throat is dry, and you think it feels worse than being ignored outright, dipping your head back at him as best you can from the grip your red haired bandmate has you in.

It’s a far cry from the outburst you had agonised over all the way here, imagining Jason fuming at the sight of you, refusing to even look your way. You’d thought maybe he might even leave, picturing his beautiful face colouring red and storming out–he’d more than have the right to. But that isn’t him, and he makes no move to leave his seat, slouching into the booth comfortably and taking a sip of the water in front of him.

You take a seat next to Steph and the movement feels like you’re cutting through water, limbs thick and heavy with unease.

The next hour moves agonisingly slowly. You feel every second of every minute, hyperaware of your movements and avoiding Jason’s eye as you eat. The muscles in your face have never felt more rigid, plastic smile holding you together as Steph and Roy weave conversation around the both of you.

The drinks come and go, various fruity drinks and margaritas littering the tabletop alongside your food. At some point, Steph wiggles out of the booth and pats your arm drunkenly, murmuring something about having to go to the bathroom.

“Do you want me to come with?” you ask, and she grins, giggling.

“No, no, no. You stay here,” she says. Strangely excited, she squeals and smacks a kiss on your jaw. You can’t help but grin uncertainly.

“Okay…”

The moment she disappears out of sight, Roy slides out of his seat too and mutters, “Be right back. Have to ask the waiter something.”

You frown. There’s something about the way he looks at you furtively, almost defiant, that makes your stomach twist. Your suspicions are allayed and then confirmed in a matter of seconds.

Several things happen. Roy walks to the register, pulling out his card and you scowl when he points at your table. But then, instead of returning, he bee-lines for the door. When you hear a drunken cackle and see a flash of blonde hair outside, you realise you’ve been set up–Roy and Steph booking it in the direction of his car.

A text comes through on your phone almost immediately, and you can feel your temper rise when you read Steph’s message.

jason need s a ruide and u gusy need to make up you can thank is layer xoxoxo i wanne be godmothed godmother csll me tomororw

“I’m going to fucking kill her.”

“You can’t tell me you came here and expected her not to meddle.”

The sound of Jason’s voice, directed at you for the first time all night, startles you. You turn to where he’s lazily picking at the label on his beer. He looks untroubled, if a little resigned to his fate for the night.

“You knew she’d do this?” you ask, confused. He lifts his eyes and you’re pinned to the spot.

“You didn’t?” he asks, like you ought to have.

“I–of course I didn’t,” you defend yourself. He raises a brow disbelievingly and you frown at him, a noise caught in your throat. “I didn’t.”

“Okay,” he says softly. He stares back at you, and you can feel your palms beginning to sweat. For the first time since you were children, you can’t read the expression on his face.

You worry your bottom lip with your teeth as you look at him. “Guess I’m driving you home, huh?”

“I can take a cab.”

You shake your head, grabbing your bag. “Save your money. C’mon. At least they had the grace to pay the bill.”

“‘S ‘cause they know we know where they live,” he rumbles behind you as you move through the restaurant. The waitstaff throw you a smile as you exit, but you’re too frazzled to offer a plain upturn of your mouth, a weak imitation of a grin as you open the door.

“Yeah,” you say absently. “I’m just down here.”

It occurs to you, just how small the space between the both of you is, when he opens the passenger door to your car and slides in.

“Where am I dropping you off?” you ask carefully. You look over and he lets out a scoff of laughter, shaking his head, as if your question amuses him. But he answers, a wry grin playing at his lips.

“My place, thanks.”

You nod.

The radio is off, and the silence prickles across your skin uncomfortably as the car drives down the icy road. If Jason’s bothered, he says nothing. You tap your fingers across the steering wheel.

God, what a sad sight you must make.

“I, um,” you lick your lips nervously. “I saw you guys went skiing.”

“Yeah. Old man wanted to do something with the family.”

You’ve spent Thanksgiving with ‘the family’ more than once. You know Jason’s various family members–the mystery girl was decidedly not among that company.

“Right,” you say. And you suppose something in your tone must tip him off, but then again Jason had always been very good at reading you. In your periphery, he turns his head and you hear him exhale softly, a bitter chuckle.

“You don’t get to be mad,” he says. His voice is devoid of anything, light as air, as though you’re discussing the weather. But still, you’ve been caught out and it makes your face warm.

“I know,” you say, hoarsely. You clear your throat. “I know.”

“You dumped me, you know,” he reminds you and you think that “I know.” is all you know how to say, echoing it once more pathetically. Grief fills the cracks in your heart when you hear the hitch in his breath, cool facade fracturing.

He says quietly, after a few moments, “I didn’t.”

You nod, swallowing past the lump in your throat. The image in your mind had plagued you for weeks, of bodies wrapped up and kisses shared over firelight. His words are a reassurance you don’t deserve. The car turns off the highway, and you bite your lip.

Quiet blankets the car for the remainder of the drive, your engine purring as you steer the car back down familiar roads.

“Jason, I…” your voice fails you when he turns to look at you, only a few minutes away from his place. “I’m sorry. For how it all went down, how I treated you in the end. I’m sorry.”

He exhales, a ragged breath like you’ve gut him, and you swallow. Misery leaks into your voice as you continue, the words coming out far steadier than you feel.

“You didn’t deserve that from me,” you tell him, gripping the steering wheel and looking over. The car comes to a stop outside his building, and you turn the key, the engine shutting off as you swivel in your seat to face him fully. “I should never have lashed out like at you, not when you were just trying to help.”

He sniffs, and even in the dark you can see the sheen in his eyes. His lips part, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Just…” he rasps out, frowning at you. “Why’d you push me away? Wasn’t I good enough? We’re supposed to be partners. You promised me–you remember?”

“I remember,” you say gloomily.

“Then why?” he demands. “You said it was you and me and then all of a sudden you’re closing yourself off. I wouldn’t have cared, y’know, if you were writing your own shit without me. Even if you didn’t wanna tell me. But you pushed me out.” He stresses the last three words, and you can only stare back wretchedly.

“Why?” he whispers.

Your mouth opens and falls, searching for the words and the courage to say them.

“I was jealous.”

The silence in the car is deafening, Jason staring back at you, shell-shocked. Whatever answer he was expecting, this clearly was not it.

“What?” he murmurs.

“I was jealous,” you admit woefully, picking at your nails. You tell him then, about the review, about the words and the sense of failure. “I mean, that’s what it was, at first. Jealousy. That at the same time they had all these things to say about me, they were loving you. It felt unfair. And then–and then I realised I was being selfish, ‘cause of course they were going to love you. Everything they said about you was true, it’s what I’ve been saying for years and you deserved that.”

His brows are furrowed still, as he listens to you, eyes growing stormier with every word. Your hands tremble as you continue carefully.

“And then, after that…” you trail off, staring at the console between you both. Shame colours your words, voice dropping steadily as you speak. “I thought, if I could just improve, I’d be doing something right. If I could just catch up to you guys, instead of dragging you down. I’d be someone worth doing it with.”

Jason’s eyes are tearful once more, winter fires raging on in teal seas. He shoots you a frown so fierce as he speaks, voice cracking.

“That’s bullshit.”

“What?–”

He leans back in his seat, hands coming up to his face, scrubbing at the skin. He groans and the sound is muffled by his palms. You watch him, humiliation burning your skin from the inside.

“You are so fucking stupid, do you know that?” he tells you, sounding anguished, and you break, tears crowding your lashline slipping forth and down your face.

“You’ve never, not for one moment, been not good enough,” he tells you angrily. “The fact that you thought you had to earn–to catch up. ‘Be someone worth doing it with’ what the fuck does that even mean? You’ve always been the one we all look to.”

You bring your hands up to cover your face, now openly weeping silently but he catches your wrists in his, the movement drawing you closer to him. You gaze at him through your tears, waterlogged and beautiful. His eyes search yours and he shakes his head, exasperated.

“The fuck ‘m I supposed to do with you, huh?” he asks, tilting forward to press his forehead to yours. “What’ve I gotta do to get it into your head that you don’t have to go it alone?”

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, eyes slipping closed and his breath skitters across your cheek, nose pressing into the skin. You can smell the beer on him, and the cologne you’d gotten him last holidays, so close you can feel the heat radiating off him.

“It’s not enough, for me to tell you, is it?” he says, and then he’s tugging at your arms. “Get over here.”

Your eyes fly open to stare at him, startled, confused, but there’s no softness in his gaze. He looks at you, eyes steely and firm, head tilting as if to say, well? What are you waiting for?

“What?” you garble, confused.

“Get over here,” he repeats, and only then do you notice the dangerously low tone his voice has taken on, the darkness of his pupils as they swallow his irises. “Gonna teach you somehow.”

A shiver skates down your spine, and your hands tremble with anticipation as you reach for the console to balance yourself, rising onto your knees shakily and clumsily climbing across the space until you’re in his lap. He nods, leaning below him to move his seat backwards, and you clutch onto his shoulders as the both of you move.

“Someone might see,” you whisper, and he stares up at you, faintly amused.

“Baby,” he says, laughter in his voice, and you soften at the sound, fingers scratching at the nape of his neck. His fingers rub at your hip where your top has lifted. “Take a look around. ‘S the middle of the night, nobody’s awake to see us.”

True enough, the complex Jason lives in is canopied in thick onyx, the quiet street so still you’d be hard pressed to believe anyone lived there at all. You look back to him, shadows turning him sharper, tear tracks smudged below his eyes and marble cut features.

“You gonna listen to me?” he rumbles, chin tilted to look at you.

You wait, heart beating in your chest, and then you nod. You see a flash of his grin, and then he’s surging upwards to capture your mouth in his, all teeth and tongue as he devours.

Your blood turns molten at the first touch, his thick hands tugging your hips down into his and pressing you closer as he licks into your mouth. The heating has turned off but you’re far from cold, the air thickening as you whimper into his mouth.

“Fuckin…” he groans, and you cry out when his mouth slides across to latch onto your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “Missed this s’much.”

“Jason,” you sob out, and he rasps out a laugh, rolling his hips upwards. “Jason, I–”

“What, baby?” he hums, lips detaching from your neck with a wet pop. You’re delirious, drunk on the touch you hadn’t felt in months, spending lonely nights reaching out for only to be met with the crushing emptiness of unoccupied space. “Y’miss me? Huh? ‘S that it?”

You whine in response, nodding. He laughs, but it’s a mean sound and it shoots straight to your core, muscles tightening at the sound.

“No going back after this, hope you know that,” he tells you lowly, tugging at the waistband of your pants. “Off. Need to be inside you.”

You scramble for your button, rising again to tug them off in awkward jerky movements that lack any sort of grace. But Jason doesn’t seem to care, more concerned with the zip of his own jeans, shoving his jeans down roughly and stroking his already hard cock.

He sinks into you in one fluid movement, a groan filling the car as he fills you, stretching you out deliciously. You choke on a gasp, and he stills for a moment, before he’s setting his feet flat on the floor of your car and using that to fuck up into you, rapid, sloppy movements that are desperate and rough. Each thrust has you seeing stars, and you’re scrabbling for his shoulders for some sort of balance, but your arms weaken as he drags along every sensitive part of you.

“Never…fuck…never letting y’go again,” he grits through his teeth, “Had me losing my damn mind. You’re always gonna be mine, you know that. Always. Been. Mine.”

Your breath stutters in your chest when his hands come to your hips, gripping your flesh as he bounces you over his cock, a slew of curses spilling from his lips. “Who do you belong to?”

“You–you! I’m yours,” you cry out.

“You need me to fuck some sense into you, hm?” he snarls. “Is that what I’ve gotta do? To get it through your fuckin’ head? Tell me.”

“Yes, yes!” you sob out, his name leaving your mouth in a broken cry.

“Yeah?” his voice drops, condescending and utterly mean. “You’re gonna let me take care of you now? Not gonna argue w’me?”

“Jason I–I’m close,” you squeal, fingers biting into his shoulders and he huffs.

“Not until you answer me,” he says, slapping your ass. “You’re not gonna fucking cum until I tell you.”

He doesn’t slow down, despite this, thrusts growing deeper. The car windows have fogged up, and you’ve not taken any care to quiet down–although nobody is around to see you, they most certainly are around to hear you. But it’s difficult to focus when Jason reaches down between your bodies to rub your clit. You keen, a high pitched sound expelling from your throat and when he sinks his teeth into the skin of your shoulder, your eyes roll back, overwhelmed by the sensations all around and within you.

“What did I say?”

“Please! Oh fuck, Jason, yes right there,” you mewl, tears burning your eyes once more. Your hips roll downwards, meeting his thrusts.

A large hand comes to grab your chin, firm as the other settles on your hip. You look at him through bleary eyes, sweat matting his hair to his forehead and a flush painting him red that even in the pale moonlight you can make sense of, eyes blazing as he stares at you.

“Say it,” he commands, and you pant into his mouth. “Tell me you’re gonna let me take care of you. ‘s all you gotta say, baby, be good for me, I know you can.”

“‘M gonna let you–” you cry. “Gonna let you take care of me! I’m sorry, please.”

“Yeah?” he grunts, and you nod your head rapidly, feeling your stomach beginning to tighten up. “Y’gonna stop doubting yourself so fucking much? Gonna stop pushing me away?”

“Y-yes!”

“Swear,” he says, and you sob, feeling the tears beginning to stream down your face. It’s stifling in the car, and you’re desperate, but Jason has you ensnared–you won’t come before he lets you. “Swear it t’me.”

“I swear. I swear, Jason,” you gasp. Sweat rolls down your back, your top clinging to you. Jason’s shirt is soaked through, and when you tip your head down, you grow lightheaded at the sight of the mess you’ve both made, white smeared across the inside of your thighs and his stomach. Lewd sounds echo in the small space of your car as you bounce on his cock, and Jason–

“Come for me,” he breathes out harshly, hand slipping from your chin once more to swipe at your clit in broad, firm strokes. In a matter of seconds, you fall apart on him, and he follows soon after, hips stuttering as he empties himself inside you with a loud moan.

You fall forward limply and he catches you easily in his arms, the both of you breathing heavily. You’re boneless against him, sticky and covered in sweat, and when you go to move off him, his arms around you tighten.

“I meant what I said,” you whisper into the silence of the car, cheek pressed against his shoulder. “About you deserving that recognition. ‘M sorry I was such a dick.”

“I wish you’d just talked to me,” he tells you softly, and now you’re the one clutching him a little tighter, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt like he’ll disappear from under you if you look away. “‘S you and me, remember?”

“I forgot for a moment there,” you admit and he breathes out through his nose, a sardonic laugh as if to say yeah, I know, “but I remember.”

“I’m still mad at you,” he says, quietly and you twist your lips in an effort not to cry. “I love you, baby, but that was the worst few months of my life.”

“I’m sorry,” you can only say again. He kisses your temple, and it feels like a step towards forgiveness. “I’m gonna make it up to you.”

“Good,” he says firmly. “I’m never letting you go, you hear me?”

When you look up, there’s a grin on his face and you lean up to press your mouth to his. It’s chaste, and sweet, softer than your reunion and holding every promise you intend to keep to him, old and new.

“It’s you and me.”

this took me 2 weeks to write and i didn't think it would be this long. like i thought maybe it might reach 4K? but somehow this managed to become my longest fic!! crazy. i do currently have a longer wip in my drafts that i'm working on but this is one of the longest oneshot fics i've ever written which is mad and i'm kind of thrilled about.

i hope you enjoyed this fic and guitarist!jason and reader's breakup -> reunion. i tweaked the reunion a bit from the initial post i made about it, because i think it just fit better in the moment, but i hope you enjoyed that too! and i hope you don't hate the reader too much for the whole breakup because they genuinely have my entire heart. i think sometimes you get caught up in wanting to be the best that you don't realise you already are good enough to the people that matter – to jason, reader is everything and it's baffling that they don't see that. but i hope i did their reunion justice.

#jason todd x reader #jay my heart #jasonsmirrorball #jason todd smut #jason todd imagine #jason todd fanfiction #x reader #guitarist!jason

276 notes · View notes

milksnake-tea · 2 years

Text

5 + 1

"The 5 times he thought he loved you, and the 1 time he knew."

rollo flame x gn!reader

contains: fluff, pining (a lot of it like oh my god), strangers to friends to lovers, rollo being emotionally constipated, lots of POV changes, slight spoilers for rollo's backstory

word count: 6.3k

note: i can't defend myself </3 my legacy is just rollo at this point and i can't stop it

tags: @crysangria

———

Rollo doesn’t fall in love.

He’s well aware of its existence; the City of Flowers is renowned for its rather romantic aspects. Since the beginning of time, newly budding couples somehow always managed to hide in every corner of the city - tucked away from the overall public, but obvious enough for any local. Anyone who’s lived in the city for longer than a month learns to avoid the bridges, the alleyways, and of course, any bench at night.

While he has never understood the reasonings behind lovers’ touches and dreamy stares, even Rollo is unable to deny that the affections they displayed didn’t sound so bad… If he didn’t spend his first year in the city running into couples making out at every corner.

Noble Bell was no different.

In his three years at the institution, Rollo had quickly become accustomed to scolding the couples he found in the closets, under the staircases, and in empty classrooms. He learned to tune out the swoonings and fawnings that even his fellow council members fell victim to.

When his peers fell in and out of love, Rollo remained impartial - a stone-cold statue of a president, unswayed by human emotion.

That was, until he met you.

—[1]—

A friend of a friend, that was who you were. A fellow third year who stayed just under the radar: never aiming too high, but never stooping too low. Just another face in the crowd, no one whom he would need to ever speak with.

The first time he sees you is in the library, during a study session between him, his secretary, and his vice president. Despite being part of the student council and already having a lot on their shoulders, Rollo’s top priority was education - and naturally, he would not let his peers fall.

It was obvious from the way their table was isolated that no one dared to even be near them. There were three other chairs at the table, but not a single soul dared to touch them, even if the library was overrun due to the upcoming exams.

Well, apparently you were not one of those souls.

“Um… Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

Even if your voice was silenced to a whisper, the library’s murmurs skidded to a halt, as though someone had pressed a pause button. Suddenly, it was as if everyone in the world was holding their breath, their piercing gazes lining your back. Even Rollo’s friends looked afraid for your safety, his secretary giving you the most incredulous of looks.

And if asking to sit at their table wasn’t bad enough, you’d made the poor choice to choose the seat directly next to Rollo himself.

You were already regretting your decision, but you’d already committed to the act. Right now, your need to study was stronger than your fear of Rollo, and you were not going to join the poor souls on the floor.

Rollo was probably the only one who seemed unaffected by your request. He only glanced up from his paper for a moment, his striking green eyes meeting your own before he gave you a curt nod and returned to his work.

To say he was surprised was an understatement. His shock only deepened when you sat down, unloading your bag and taking out all of your study materials after a quick wave to his secretary. In only three minutes, you had settled into your work - as if you weren’t sitting next to the most feared and respected man in all of Noble Bell.

It was refreshing.

Soon enough, the library forgot you, and the hushed whispers rose back up again - both with gossip and with the frustrated grumblings of struggling students. As Rollo reviewed his lessons, studiously jotting down important notes and underlining key concepts, he couldn’t help but find his gaze drifting over to you.

Although you didn’t say anything (why would you, you were in a library), he could tell that you were stressed - even more so than usual. The frustration in your eyes was one that he was familiar with, the eraser shavings and the scrambled calculations a key signal that you were having trouble.

Looking at what you were struggling with, he recognized the practice test for your upcoming chemistry test. Being the responsible student council president he was, he naturally stepped in to assist.

“You forgot to use the formula.”

“Huh.” You startled, your voice coming out strained and irritated at the sudden interruption. Rollo points at your calculations.

“Look here,” he explained, pointing at the rate table. “When they give you the Kc, the temperature, and the balanced equation, you use this to find Kp.”

Without any sense of shame, he reaches over and writes a formula next to your calculations. His handwriting is absurdly neat - almost as though it had been printed. You blank at the formula, recognizing it as the one you’d learned in the first lesson of this unit.

You groan in frustration as you erased your writing one more time. “By the Seven… I’m so stupid.”

“Don’t belittle yourself,” Rollo comments offhandedly, returning to his notes. “It happens to the best of us. Rather than a matter of intelligence, it’s an issue in memory and sleep deprivation.”

“You’re the one with eyebags,” you instinctively mutter. Instantaneously, the world freezes as you register your snip. Your eyes widen, and you’re already spewing apologies while Rollo stands still, caught off guard. “Sorry, that wasn’t my-”

“Are you always this straightforward with strangers?” he asks, and without thinking, you shoot back a retort.

“No, are you?” Immediately, you slap a hand over your mouth, horrified. “Oh my God, I am so sorry-”

His face is turned away from you, but you swear that you caught the corners of his lips twitching - quirking up into the slightest of smiles. “Be careful with your words.”

“O-Of course," you sigh. “My bad.”

“Take care not to do it again.” Just as quickly as it came, Rollo’s smile disappeared, returning to neutrality. Perhaps he had never smiled at all. Thinking logically, you’re more inclined to believe the latter option.

Even his fellow council members are shocked. Rollo raises a brow at the way you rub your eyes, trying to make sense of what you saw. You’re so expressive, unlike the other students who kept it all hidden behind a mask of professionalism. It was refreshing, endearing even.

“You’d better get back to work now,” he advises (although it sounds like an order), his pen moving once more. “Exams are not meant to be taken lightly.”

“Right,” you mutter. Rollo’s eyes crinkle at the blatant distaste on your face as you reluctantly return to chemistry. You weren’t the only student who hated studying, far from it, but you were definitely the most open about it - especially in front of Rollo, who was infamous for his strict personality.

It’s not long before you test the waters and lightly tug at Rollo’s sleeve. Wordlessly, he glances over, and you show him your newly formed calculations - almost like a child showing off their newest drawing to their parents.

“Is this right?”

Rollo peers over at your shoulder, scanning the work you’ve written. He nods in satisfaction, looking over at you with something akin to pride.

“Good work,” he praises.

“Thanks,” you sigh in relief. You smile up at him. “It’s mainly because you helped me, though. So thanks for that, President.”

“Just Rollo is fine,” he assures calmly. You blink.

“You sure?”

“I prefer my name rather than my status,” Rollo explains. You hum in understanding.

“Gotcha. Thanks, Rollo.”

Rollo’s pen stills. You shoot him a questioning look, but he brushes it off and continues studying. He didn’t expect you to say it so easily - maybe he’d thought you’d be more hesitant.

But he doesn’t hate it.

Rather, a small part of him finds that he rather likes the way his name rolls off your tongue.

—[2]—

You don’t expect to see Rollo again after that encounter, but it seems that fate had other plans.

Magical History wasn’t your favorite class, but it wasn’t the worse. You didn’t mind learning about the wars and inventions, and if anything, that made it all the more interesting to you. But your favorite part of it was how different people took up different sides and perspectives on each part of history.

You tapped your pencil impatiently against your notebook, eyes flicking from the chalkboard and to the clock. Class wasn’t starting for another five minutes, but you were anxious to get started. Today’s lecture was primarily for review, and Lord knows you needed it.

You glance over when someone sits next to you, only to choke on your spit when you see it’s Rollo Flamme himself. You rapidly scan the lecture hall, only to become more confused when you see that there was a multitude of seats open - in fact, the room was rather vacant.

“At ease,” Rollo says, his monotone voice not helping him in the slightest. You cough, smiling at him weakly. Suddenly, his tall stature was all the more apparent. “The view from here is the best in the room.”

“Yep…” You rub your arms awkwardly, suddenly cold despite the warm uniform you don. Now you were really praying that your teacher would show up quicker.

“Are you alright?” Rollo asks, noticing your demeanor. The subtle concern in his voice would’ve surprised you if you weren’t already freaked out of your wits. “Are you perhaps cold?”

“Nope!” You hastily reply, startling him with your raised voice. “I’m just peachy.”

“Peachy?” Rollo questions, but it seems like the Seven had been looking over you that day. You’ve never been more relieved in your life to see your teacher, today’s savior, walking through the door.

You have no idea how you manage to focus on the lecture with Rollo right next to you. Just his presence enough is intimidating, suffocating even, as though he was watching, judging your every move. He doesn’t even do anything special - he’s just listening to the lecture like every other student.

Sometimes, you think you see him staring at you, but whenever you look over, he’s quick to avert his gaze. It’s almost impressive, and you almost say something about it - except even you know better than to antagonize the student council president during a lecture.

For the first half hour of the lecture, you’re stuck in this state of constant edge, barely able to relax with this 6-foot giant practically looming over your shoulder. He wasn’t even doing anything in particular, but he didn’t need to. Just being there is enough to put you into fight-or-flight mode.

Sometimes you wonder if he’s just a sadist and likes watching you squirm.

You’re very correct.

Rollo’s only half paying attention to the lecture - he knows all of the content already. Rather, he finds entertainment and peeking over at you, seeing you freeze and stiffen up whenever you catch him in the act. It’s a game of cat and mouse for him, something he finds adorable.

“Why do you keep staring at me?” you whisper from the corner of your mouth. Rollo raises a brow.

“We shouldn’t be talking in class,” he replies simply, pretending to be paying attention. You roll your eyes.

“Nice dodge,” you scoff playfully, and Rollo smiles. It’s not much - just a quirk of the lips, so small that you’d have to squint to see it. It’s a smile whose warmth is subdued, like a little match in a snowstorm. You can’t put your finger on it; it’s almost like fondness, except that doesn’t sound right for the Rollo Flamme.

"You’re smiling," you state the obvious. Yet there's a certain awe in it - someone would've thought that Rollo had grown two heads by the way you were looking at him.

Rollo’s pen stops in its movements. He seems to lag for a moment, surprised and unsure, before his lips straighten and he’s back to normal.

“Is there an issue?”

“No,” you laugh. The initial fear you had felt has dissipated. Rollo’s smile, despite being so small you'd have to look at it through a microscope, was still a smile. “Just didn’t expect it from you, y’know? Since you’re all big and serious around here.”

“I see,” Rollo says quietly, turning away. If it weren’t for his stone-cold face, you would’ve compared him akin to a kicked puppy.

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” you say. “I think it looks nice on you.”

Rollo remains silent, but the slight widening of his eyes is key enough. It's enough to bring a smile onto your face as you return your attention to the lecture.

Rollo doesn’t say anything after that, but he doesn’t need to. Any tension that had existed between you two had evaporated, the invisible wall opening its gates. Your body has visibly relaxed, and you’re able to fully concentrate on the lesson again.

In the corner of your eye, although you’re almost certain you imagine it, you think you see Rollo’s eyes soften.

—[3]—

When you’re not studying your sanity away at school, you’re working.

You work part-time at one of the many bakeries in the City of Flowers, famed for their pastries. You also sell coffee and tea for the many tired students from the college (such as yourself), so you’re used to seeing many of your classmates coming in the morning.

Around a month has passed since your little moment with Rollo. To put it simply, the two of you have gotten closer.

Studying together in the library became a common occurrence as you found yourself frequenting Rollo’s table more often. Apparently, Rollo’s standards wouldn’t let you study in peace, so he opted to personally tutor you to appease his own state of mind. In his own words, he couldn’t stand by and watch a classmate struggle in front of him.

Safe to say, Rollo was a strict teacher. He wasn’t afraid to point out the inconsistencies in your work, and often gave you tips on what to do. You were afraid that he’d get irritated with how much you overthought everything, but the most he’d give you would be a gentle tug on the cheek whenever you got ahead of yourself.

You look over at your shoulder at the modules you had left to complete. Thankfully, the number of papers had drastically decreased, thanks to a certain someone. Unknowingly, a smile slips onto your face at the thought of him.

The bell rings, and you’re immediately in work mode. You plaster on a customer service smile, straightening behind the counter.

“Hello, how can I help you- Oh hey, Rollo!” Your face breaks out in a grin at the sight of your study partner. “What’re you doing here?”

Honestly, it’s weird to see him without that uniform of his. Seeing him in a casual turtleneck and coat feels almost illegal, like you’re looking at something that only certain people should see.

“Oh, it’s you,” he briefly acknowledges, bright green eyes meeting your own before scanning the vast amount of display pastries. A month ago, you would’ve taken his apathetic greeting as coldness. But having been in his presence for quite a while now, you’ve learned to pick up the smallest of ques.

“Can I get you anything?”

Rollo tears his eyes away from the tempting pastries. “A medium black coffee, please.”

You nod, nimble fingers already moving to ring him up. “Will that be all?”

“Yes,” Rollo confirms, digging into his coat pocket for his wallet. As you tell him the price, you take out a coffee cup, writing Rollo’s name on it in sharpie. Turning your back to him, you opt to add a little message alongside it.

While you make the coffee, Rollo sets himself down in the corner of the bakery, taking out his study materials. You don’t miss the way his eyes linger on the croissants, almost longingly. In the back of your head, you remember one of your conversations (you’d tried distracting him so that you could get a break. It lasted 3 minutes).

“So, what kind of food do you eat?”

“The same as everyone else.”

“No, like when you’re out. You know, like in your free time?”

“Oh. I suppose… Croissants. I’m rather fond of them.”

“Eh, makes sense.”

You figure that he’d probably skipped breakfast again, knowing him. Apparently, breakfast was optional to him. Despite being only 18, Rollo was already living the life of an overworked salaryman, always worried about his council and studying his life away.

But being the good friend you were, you weren’t letting that slide. Rollo was going to take care of himself, whether he liked it or not.

“Rollo?”

Right on cue, he stands up, walking to the counter to retrieve his drink. By all means, you give it to him, but right before he leaves, you call out to him.

“Oh, you forgot this!”

Rollo’s brows crinkled at your exclaim. How could he have forgotten anything? The only thing he ordered was currently in his hands right now. Still, he returns to the counter, ready to call you out on your mistake.

He doesn’t get the chance to.

You press something wrapped and warm into his free hand. Looking down, Rollo’s pleasantly surprised with a freshly baked croissant. He jerks his face up to meet your gaze, confusion written all over his typically stoic face. It’s nice, to finally surprise him for a change.

“I know you didn’t eat breakfast today,” you explain cheerfully, leaning on your forearms on the bakery counter. “You didn’t think I would let you spend your day with just a coffee in your stomach, did you?”

“I can’t take this,” Rollo protested, already moving to hand you back the croissant. You click your tongue.

“Nope, you are,” you push his hand back. His hands are cold, you note. “It’s on the house, trust me. And if the owners have a problem with it, I can always pay for you.”

“But-”

“No buts,” you smile cheekily up at him, propping your head onto your hand. Rollo’s ears flush at just the tips. “I know you want it anyways, so stop being stubborn and just take the thing, okay? It’s fine, don’t worry.”

Rollo stares at you, conflict flickering in his eyes. To an outsider, he’s outright glaring at you, but you know there’s no malice.

You can already imagine the inner turmoil fighting in his mind. On one hand, he wants the croissant - he’s been eyeing it for a good ten minutes - and he’s hungry. On the other hand, his moral righteousness won’t let him take anything without paying.

But in the end, his hunger (and you) wins him over. He sighs, reluctantly giving in.

“If you insist,” he says cooly, ignoring the way his heart pounds in his chest. “I’d best be going now. I’ll see you in class.”

“See you,” you wave, straightening yourself. Rollo turns to leave, but right before he does, you hear a faint murmur.

“Oh, and… thank you. For the croissant.”

—[4]—

“Every day, without fail, the president climbs the tower to clean the Bell of Salvation.”

It’s pouring outside when you remember the words of your friend, Rollo’s secretary. Looking outside your dorm’s window, the streets are dark as rain cascades from the sky and onto the city. Even from inside your warm room, you can feel the cold from the outside.

You can’t help but wonder if Rollo was also out there, still cleaning that Bell.

You wouldn’t put it past him, to be honest. That man was nothing if not a workaholic. Your friends in the student council had told you of how he spent countless all-nighters just to put together school events, and that wasn’t including his work as a student. But you didn’t need them to tell you any of that. Rollo’s constant eyebags and coffee addiction told you plenty enough.

You sigh to yourself, leaning onto the window. Your friend notices your sulking, sighing to himself as he walks over. You’ve been like that for a good twenty minutes now.

“President Flamme will be fine,” he says, sitting across the windowsill from you. “He always is.”

“In this weather?” you ask, barely sparing him a glance. “He’d catch a cold before he gets any cleaning done.”

“You’d be surprised,” your friend laughs. “He can be pretty persistent when he wants to be.”

You chuckle, eyes softening with the memories. “You've got that right. I still remember how he made me stay up for two hours until I could get a problem right. He even got food so that I couldn’t use it as an excuse for a break.”

“He did that for you?” Your friend’s eyes widen in surprise. You nodded sheepishly, a fond smile creeping on your face.

“Yeah, I didn’t expect it either.”

Your friend snickers knowingly. You shoot him a look, only for him to brush it off.

“Anyway, if you’re that worried over him,” he suggests, “why don’t you go up and check on him? You’re the least likely to get yelled at if you do.”

“That’s what you say,” you roll your eyes playfully. “But you have a point. Unfortunately.”

“Always do,” your friend huffs pridefully. He winks at you as he lightly pushes you toward the exit. “Don’t worry about sneaking out. I’ll cover you.”

That’s how you found yourself scaling the old bell tower, holding an extra coat in your arms, a small flame dancing in the palm of your hand for light. You were careful to keep the flame from fanning out of control, as the tower was made from wood.

Your legs ached by the time you neared the top. You had no idea how Rollo did this on a daily basis, much less in the raging storm.

The wind battered at your face the second you reached the highest story, blowing rain into your eyes and nearly putting your flame out. Struggling to shield yourself from the wild tempest, you squint through the raindrops for Rollo. Thankfully, you didn’t have to look too far.

“Rollo?” you call out, your voice straining against the wind. Faintly you can spot the tall silhouette of your friend, somehow completely fine and still dutifully polishing the bell. “Rollo!”

The silhouette freezes, and turns to meet your gaze. You sigh in relief when you see the familiar green of his eyes, pushing your way through the storm to meet him.

“What are you doing here?” Rollo asks, caught off guard by your appearance. His gaze wanders over your body, noticing how drenched you were getting. “The storm is dangerous, you’ll catch a cold.”

“That’s what I should be saying!” you huff, lightly hitting his chest. “You’ve been out here cleaning the Bell for how long again?”

“Only an hour, the rain helps-”

You roll your eyes, putting your hands on your hips. “Only an hour?! You’re the one who’s going to get sick at this rate!”

“But I’m not-”

“Yeah, yeah, no, we’re going inside,” you retort, grabbing his hand. Rollo surprisingly doesn’t protest, allowing you to drag him off his precious bell and back into the safety of the tower. It’s by no means warmer, but it’s definitely drier.

You sit down on one of the many tables inside the tower, cringing as the walls shake from the wind. But you know that the tower won’t fall. It’s old, yes, but it has prevailed through storms like this before. The Bell of Salvation’s magic still runs strong.

“Your hands are freezing,” you comment, Rollo’s hand still intertwined with your own. His hands were always cold, but today they were like blocks of ice. You run your thumbs over the palms of his hands, cupping both of them before whispering a small spell.

Warmth tickles your palms like little embers, providing you and Rollo solace in the freezing winter. You let out a breath of contentment, before realizing just what you were doing. Snatching your hand away, you frantically apologize - not noticing the dejected look in Rollo’s eyes as you do so.

“Great Seven, I am so sorry-”

“I don’t mind,” Rollo says quietly, purposely avoiding your gaze. He silently thanks the darkened room for preventing you from seeing his flushed ears.

“You don’t?” you question, looking up at him. Briefly, you saw a glimpse of red before Rollo hastily looked away, lightly shaking his head. You feel your face warm, but decide to blame it on the magic. Hurriedly, you look for a way to change the conversation.

“So… I didn’t notice it earlier, but how are you perfectly dry in that storm?” you ask, rubbing your arms, cringing when you noticed how soaked you were. Rollo looks relieved from the change of subject.

“Magic,” he explains easily, as if it were obvious. And it kind of was. You laugh nervously, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Oh, right,” you chuckle, glancing down at your ringed finger. You hummed, waving your hand and blasting yourself with a gust of hot air, effectively drying yourself. “It really solves everything, doesn’t it.”

Rollo’s face visibly sours at your comment. “Is that how you really feel?”

The coldness in his voice surprises you. You’ve never heard such hatred and malice from him before. Had you said something wrong?

You swallow nervously. “What do you mean?”

“Do you truly think that magic solves everything?” Rollo crosses his arms, a scowl twisting his face.

“Well, it depends,” you say carefully, not wanting to set him off. You can already hear the warning bells in his tone. “The way I see it, magic’s a tool.”

“Even if it’s evil?” Rollo questions angrily. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself against him.

“I don’t think it’s evil,” you say firmly, yet softly. “I mean, look at this city. The Bell’s magic protects us, doesn’t it?”

“It didn’t protect-” Rollo cuts himself off. You give him a look, but don’t pry. It isn’t your business to ask nor to know what had happened to him for him to despise magic this much. He hadn’t said much, but it’s obvious to you.

“Like I said, magic is a tool,” you continue, facing him fully. “It’s like a knife. When you’re stabbed, you don’t blame the knife, but the person holding it.”

Rollo doesn’t say anything, but you can see the turmoil twisting in his eyes. You’re challenging something that had been in his life longer than you have, something that you’ve never seen.

You decide to take a risk, a step forward. Reaching out, you cup his hands in yours once again. Rollo only watches, confusion and anticipation keeping him curious.

You whisper your spell once again, except this time, the embers blossom into fire. Sparks of flame surround the two of you like fireflies, dancing daintily in the wind. Warmth like a mother’s embrace envelops the two of you as you hold a flickering flame in your intertwined palms.

The glow of the fire illuminates Rollo’s face, entranced by the blaze. Something moves in your chest, and you find yourself scooting closer to him so that you can bask in more of this warmth.

“Magic can be dangerous,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. You’re right beside him at this point, your shoulders nearly brushing together. Rollo turns to look at you, his face uncharacteristically gentle. You don’t notice, keeping your gaze on your flame. “And you don’t have to like it. But it can also be beautiful.”

You laugh to yourself, sighing as you lay your head on Rollo’s shoulder. You hope he doesn’t hear how loudly your heart beats. He doesn’t react, but he also doesn’t protest.

“You know, you worried the hell out of me earlier,” you suddenly confess, the flames dancing in your eyes. “I mean, you already do, with your sleeping habits and how much pressure you put on yourself. But today was… Well, it wasn’t our best day.”

“...I’m sorry,” Rollo whispers, and you almost don’t hear it. But it’s genuine, heartfelt, and sincere. You feel an arm wrap around your waist, bringing you closer together.

You smile, relaxing into his hold.

“As long as you’re okay.”

Neither of you acknowledges the position you’re in, nor the intimacy of it. You don’t have to. For now, all you do is rest, and enjoy each other’s touch.

You don’t see it, but eventually, Rollo closes his eyes, and leans his head onto yours.

It’s the most relaxed he’s ever been.

—[5]—

Rollo thinks he’s going to die.

Not literally, of course, but he was pretty close.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing out here, taking a leisurely walk around the city streets with you. He has no idea how you managed to drag him out of his uptight uniform, or how you convinced him to enjoy the snow and the festivities.

He sighs, pulling up his scarf to warm his face. You already made him layer up quite a bit, but just to be safe, you also wrapped that around him to make sure he didn’t accidentally die from touching a snowflake.

He chuckles at the thought, his breath fogging in the cold winter air. The way you constantly fretted over him, overthinking everything and taking care of him… His cheeks warmed at the thought, a fond smile overtaking his lips without him noticing.

“I’m back! God, that line was so long and I swear this lady cut in front of me and I’ve never wanted to strangle someone so badly-”

Speak of the devil, and they shall appear. Rollo’s breath clogs in his throat when you run up to him, two steaming cups of hot chocolate in your hands. He can’t help but think of how cute you were in your winter apparel, all cozy and warm.

He mindlessly tunes out your rantings, only half listening as he simply stares at your lips. Even when he takes one of the cups you offer him, he only watches. Eventually, he sees you running out of air and reaches out, patting your head to shut you up.

“Are you done?” he asks. You huff, sipping your hot chocolate to make yourself feel better - nearly burning yourself in the process.

“Yeah, I’m done,” you giggle, sticking out your tongue to cool it. “Sorry about that.”

“I like hearing you talk,” Rollo assures, effectively flustering you. Reaching out, he lightly tugs your cheek. “And be careful when you drink that. You could’ve burned yourself.”

“But I didn’t,” you mutter, rubbing your cheek with a pout. Rollo raises a brow, but you brush it off. “Anyways, how’s the chocolate?”

“Hot,” Rollo says bluntly, making you snort. “But also sweet.”

“Do you like it?” Rollo nods.

“It’s perfect for a night like this,” he observes, looking out towards the bright lights that litter the snow-covered city.

“Right?” you hum cheerfully, the snow fluttering around you prettily. “Let’s find somewhere to sit.”

The two of you quickly found a bench to seat yourselves on. You lean back onto the wooden chair, happily drinking away at your chocolate. You only stopped when you feel a presence at your shoulder.

Looking up, you let out a sound when you found Rollo’s face mere inches away from yours. Your breath hitched at the sudden proximity as you froze in place, becoming a mere statue.

You only snapped out of your phase when you felt something soft pressing up to the corner of your lips. Rollo dabs at you with one of his many handkerchiefs. The pure concentration on his face only manages to fluster you more until he pulls his hand back, seemingly satisfied with his handiwork.

“You had chocolate on your lips,” he explains, not noticing the way you stare at him, blood rushing to your face.

“...Oh,” you manage out, your voice small.

You can practically feel Rollo’s breath ghosting on your lips. Subconsciously, you held your breath, watching him carefully for his next move. Rollo seemed to have the same idea, uncertainty taking hold of him for the first time.

The two of you waited with bated breath, waiting for the other to take that risk. For a moment, the rest of the world disappeared into a flash of white.

But you both hesitated too long.

Rollo jumps as something tugs on his coat, effectively breaking the spell. He looks down to see one of the city goats staring up at him cutely, bleating for his attention. Begrudgingly, he sighs and reaches down to pet it.

The goat unfortunately uses that to jump on him. It attempts a bite at his cup, but thankfully, Rollo has quicker reflexes than one would think. His height also means that he’s able to hold the cup far out of the goat’s reach.

“No, you don’t,” he grits out, the goat’s weight heavy on him. “You can’t eat chocolate, fool.”

Something about Rollo unironically calling a goat a fool was just too ridiculous for you.

You break out laughing, your eyes crinkling. Rollo’s chest constricts at the sight, his arm relaxing for a second as he stares at you in awe - barely noticing when the goat tries again for his cup.

There are few things that he could call precious. But your smile, this moment, your laughter… He would say that they were the brightest treasures in the world.

—[ + 1 ]—

Rollo isn’t stupid.

He isn’t oblivious.

He knows the way he feels isn’t normal. He knows the way he wants you, craves you, needs you, is anything but. He always knew.

But what sets it in for him, is when he sees those couples in the streets of the city. When he sees those loving gazes towards one another, the way they hold hands, and how comfortable they are with each other, he’s no longer filled with indifferent disgust.

Rather, he wonders how it would feel to do that with you.

What would it be like, to be able to hold you and call you his own?

He’s wondered for a while. When you cup his hands in your own, he relishes in your warmth, but finds himself wanting more. When you look at him, he becomes lost in your eyes. When you smile, he sees your lips, wondering how they’d feel pressed up against his.

It’s a strange thing for him, to want something so badly.

So when he finds himself nestled in your arms, finally resting, he’s conflicted.

With his head laying gently on your chest, he practically melts into your hold. Your fingers thread through his hair, softly petting and massaging his scalp as you do. His eyes are closed, his arms wrapped loosely around your waist.

He's able to let go with you. He allows himself this small moment of vulnerability. He lets you hold him, finding redamancy in your touch. For in your arms, he is safe - this is his home.

"Thank you," he murmurs, his voice muffled by your clothes. You hum, playing with his hair.

"Of course," you shift the delicate locks between your fingers. "That's what friends are for."

Friends. He finds that the word leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Friends, yes, that was what you were. A month or two ago, he would've been fine, delighted even, to be called such a thing.

But is it so wrong to be longing for something more?

You must've felt him stiffen, as you look down at him in concern.

"You okay, Rollo?"

He really isn't. Slowly blinking his eyes open, he raises his head to look at you.

Your hand falls from his hair to cradle his face, your thumb tenderly swiping over his cheek. Rollo closes his eyes in contentment, nuzzling into your palm - almost like a kitten, you'd comment later.

"You're unfair," he mumbles, peering at you once again. You tilt your head, prompting him to continue. He reaches up, covering your hand with his own. "You dare to hold me like this, and yet you still only call me 'friend'."

You hum, looking away bashfully. "I was afraid to call you something else."

"You were afraid of nothing." Rollo lifts his head, moving your hand so that he could press a kiss to your palm. His eyes stayed trained on yours, waiting to see any reaction - as if he was asking for permission.

The look you give him is nothing short of loving. It's what pushes him to test the boundaries even further, to push himself up. You look up at him with hidden intrigue, knowing, and even anticipation - as if you knew just what was coming ahead.

Rollo lets go of your hand, taking a hold of your chin instead, tilting it up to face him. His eyes search yours carefully, still hesitant even now.

You nod your head, silently giving your approval. Your words have lost you, unable to make it past the lump in your throat.

Rollo leans forward, close enough so that your noses brush against each other. Taking one last breath, he takes the dive, closing his eyes and gently pressing his lips to yours.

Instantly, your eyes shut as if falling into a trance. Your hand trails up to the back of his head, holding him there as the other reaches to wrap around his waist - bringing him impossibly closer.

It’s over before you know it. When Rollo finally pulls away, you instinctively follow, chasing him. It’s only when Rollo lightly pushes you back that you peek your eyes open.

In the swirling forest of his eyes, you see amusement, adoration, and most importantly, gratitude.

Not a word is spoken when Rollo falls back into your arms, and you are there to welcome him, as you always have.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #disney twst #twst x reader #disney twst x reader #x reader #y/n #twst rollo #rollo flamme #rollo flamm #rollo #roro flamme #twst rollo x reader #rollo flamme x reader #rollo flamm x reader #reader insert #oneshot #archives 🏵️

1K notes · View notes

shadyauthor · 1 year

Text

"Could you possibly do a RF!Wally x male reader? 🥺 👉👈"

Request #1

☆

Rainbow Factory ! Wally x Male!Reader

Enjoy!♡

☆

Working in the factory was draining, physically and mentally, especially since you got promoted to head assistant, now you had almost twice the workload and twice the migraine having to deal with your boss.

You had been working in this factory practically all your life, working hard since day one, you of all people of course deserved this promotion, right? Right, that's what you'd think, but it felt like a punishment. Your boss constantly took his anger out on you, you didn't have a single moment away from him and his constant tasks he put on you.

And the constant time you had to spend with him all day everyday did not help your crippling crush on him, seriously, who couldn't crush over him??? He was muscular, his hair was beautiful, his voice was so deep and smooth and it made your knees want to buckle each time he spoke to you, and his hands oh my god don't get me started on his hands- "What?" A deep voice spoke up, you shook your head from your thoughts, turning red as you realized you were staring directly at your bosses chest "yes sir?" You asked, hoping he didn't notice "You were staring at me, what do you want." He asked, looking over his glasses as he sat at his desk in front of yours, having been reviewing papers for something important.

Your face seemed to turn more red by the second, he took his glasses off before pinching the bridge of his nose. "Are you gonna answer me or are you going to sit there with your mouth open?" He said, he was clearly tired, both of you having to stay late after sending everyone home. "I- well- no sir..I don't need anything my apologies." You answered, not wanting to embarrass yourself more.

After working in silence for a moment longer, a loud sound broke the silence, a loud bang coming from outside of the office. Both you and Wally lifted your heads immediately, looking to the door, he groaned before getting up "I'll be right back." He said before walking out of the office door, you got up following silently, curious as to what the sound was.

You watched him approach the door on the side of the reception room, covered in dust and the doors label scratched off. You watched him open the door and take a step in, assuming he was gonna walk in you started to follow after him, not realizing he had stopped moving already you stumbled into him. Moments later all you could hear was his breathing, you couldn't see anything, the darkness of what was now clearly a semi-long closet encasing both of you like a blanket. You didn't even notice how you were practically laying on his back, you just felt how warm he was, his heavy breathing, how firm and soft his back felt, then you noticed how you were practically pinning him to the floor.

Your face red as you tried your best to crawl off of him without elbowing him or making things worse, "I- Boss I'm so sorry!" You mumbled out, pressing on his lower back for leverage getting up before you heard a pop and the man under you groaning, you stilled, not knowing what to do or if you just broke your bosses back, you really didn't wanna get fired after all you've done for him. "Do that again" he said in a muffled voice, you almost didn't hear him, but you had to make sure you heard him right "what did you say?" He was quiet for a moment before lifting his face to grumble out "Do. That. Again." He said, face completely red.

You were in the closet, straddling the back of your bosses waist on your knees, and he was asking you to basically massage his back, could today get any better?

You once again pressed on his back "No not like that, harder" so once again, you pressed on his lower back with your palms, this time pressing your weight on him, and once again you heard a crackle then a pop and a sigh of relief coming from the man under you. "Okay now get off of me before I give you unpaid suspension for two months" he growled out, you scoffed, annoyed he didn't even thank you, I mean it was an accident at first but he could've been appreciative just a little. But you obliged and shuffled off of him, sitting on your knees in front of the door not being able to get up with him still on the floor in your way.

He stood up, standing above you now. His hand reached your head, palming your scalp "Move. I can't reach the doorknob behind your giant head" you groaned, trying to get up but failing so before thinking you grabbed onto his waist to use as leverage to get up.

Both of you stilled as you realized what you had done, "soooo......" you had started, a complete nervous wreck at this point "The doorknob right?" But you were met with silence, you couldn't see his face in the darkness of the closet and you were terrified he was furious with you now.

But what came next is something that you'd think would only happen in your wildest dreams, he slammed you against the closet door, smashing his lips onto yours in the process. Your eyes widened as both of his hands held your waist, pulling you closer to him, a muffled gasp escaped your mouth before you melted into his surprisingly gentle kiss. Closing your eyes you leaned into him, slipping your arms under his and pressing your hands on his back, pulling him closer to you.

Both of you making a mess of a closet as he slid you from the door to the wall, kissing your lips before pulling away, a string of drool connecting your lips to his before you felt it being wiped away. You opened your eyes realizing he had opened the closet door and was already heading for his office, you wanted to stop him, to ask him what this means for you two, but you didn't.

"I'll pick you up at 6 PM sharp tomorrow night, don't be late, now go home and get some rest. I'll finish up here" he said before entering his office, locking it behind him so you couldn't go in and continue to work.

Your heart fluttered and you touched your lips with the tips of your fingers, questioning if anything was actually real, what just happened? Did you just score a date with your boss?? Yes. Yes!!

You left the closet, closing the door behind you and heading to the elevator to leave before realizing you left your keys in his office, actually, all of your belongings in his office.

You speed walked to his office, knocking on the door in hopes he'd open it "Sir I left my keys in there can I please come get them?" Silence. You knocked some more "Sir please I can't get home" You heard him start whistling as if he couldn't hear you at all. "BOSS PLEASE I NEED MY KEYS" You frowned, knocking on the door more aggressively now. All you got was a slight laugh in response.

God you love this man

☆

I hope you enjoy this, it took me an entire day </3

Thank you so much for your request, feel free to do it again (please)

Toodles!

#welcome home au #wally darling #wally darling x reader #fanfiction #rf wally #rainbow factory wally #male reader #x wally darling #x male reader

394 notes · View notes

anundyingfidelity · 6 months

Text

I'M A RUIN — Soldier Boy/Ben (Part V)

Series summary: After the events of the Seven Tower, you present Grace Mallory a new secret project you're working on already to develop a cure to Compound V. The only problem? You need Soldier Boy for that.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader.

Word count: 2.4k.

Warnings for series: set after S3 (spoilers), some OOC!Ben, some depressed!Ben, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, slow-burn, language, PTSD, reader has Compound V (she's no Vought supe tho), Soldier Boy being an usual asshole, reader is a fucking liar.

Warnings on this chapter: some misogyny and shit (you know who), psychiatry stuff, canon gore, blood, heads exploding, and violence?.

Notes: so I'm sorry for any mistakes during the psychyatric process, I go to therapy and take medication myself so that's all I know plus google research. And be aware of the gore descriptions, I tried to do my best I guess lol. Thanks for reading as always!

this fic tags: @k-slla @syrma-sensei @mostlymarvelgirl @cheynovak @drasticemotions @soldirboy @deans-spinster-witch

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

get yourself in the taglist!

GEN MASTERLIST! — SERIES MASTERLIST!

Part V: Blow Your Mind

With a deep breath, you reviewed the symptoms Soldier Boy barely 'gave' during your session. The list was kind of long on the pages and it read:

Always being on guard for any danger, self-destructive behavior, irritability, angry outbursts, panic attacks, feeling emotionally numb, not trusting anyone, not feeling safe, hypervigilance, intrusive thoughts, fatigue, muscle tension, headaches, back pain...

There was a weird silence surrounding both of you, mostly because of his mood and his change in demeanor from a somewhat friendly asshole to an irritated, unbearable jerk. Once you had started with the uncomfortably stupid questions, he felt threatened. Soldier Boy wasn't actually open to talk about his past and the traumatic experiences he had, and that meant it was difficult to get to know how his body and mind were reacting to all the stress and madness he went through in decades, adding those weeks after Billy Butcher had released him from his nightmare.

He was opposed to speaking directly about how he was feeling, but you knew better that Ben speaking out on his symptoms was not going to happen. So you had to ask each one of them and review some his most harsh experiences directly, in order to receive monotonous responses, limited to: 'yes', 'no', 'I don't know,' and finally 'what the fuck is that?' You took them all as an absolute yes.

He was being defensive and you knew better than to miss anything after he almost burned the whole damn building. And with the small but confident experience you had with psychiatry, you concluded that he needed medication and therapy. As soon as fucking possible.

"Yeah, you have PTSD," you said after a moment and your eyes found his unreadable gaze.

He raised his eyebrows with false surprise. He already heard that shit from Hughie before. "And where's the fucking drugs?"

"For that to happen, you have to stop the weed first."

"I've survived bricks of coke mixed with shit you probably don't know about and you want to take the only thing that's keeping me sane? Fan-fucking-tastic!" he fumed, but you didn't flinch. Not a bit.

"Look, my goal is keeping you safe and making you sane because you definitely are not. Not right now. And since I took you out, you'll follow my process, so stop whining."

He chuckled softly with a bitter grimace on his lips as he shook his head softly. "No, that's not gonna happen."

"I don't care if you agree with that, it's settled," you continued, a triumphant smile plastered on your face.

It was true, you didn't give a single shit. He had to be clean and quit any type of drugs to start the medication but most importantly, to use his blood. Eventually. You were more than aware that he wouldn't die easily, that was proved. And it was just a matter of time to get him to your lab to take samples of his blood and run the necessary research on them while you and your team still continued the studies with the Anti-V prototype. You were only hoping that day would arrive soon enough. Two months sober, that was all you needed from him. And the best part? Soldier Boy didn't have to really know the whole details.

Ben, on the other hand, clenched his jaw so tight and closed his eyes for a moment after hearing your statement. You really were a fucking bitch, letting him fall into the abyss of misery and torture that was his own wrecked mind. He considered your intentions internally, once again for the millionth time. You showed up there all dressed up, playing a rich doctor when in reality you were just a fucking slutty brat, just to tell him he had to stop his usual pot, which you also brought happily when he asked you to. And now, you were taking away the only thing that stopped him from ripping your head off. What a great move.

"That's not smart," he insisted.

"Why not? I have you under my own terms."

Ben tilted his head, studying you carefully. "You can't stop me, doll. None of you can. I'm only here because I find it suitable instead of storming out and catching unnecessary attention."

Ben saw you swallow down, he immediately knew it was because you were angry, not scared. You never really seemed scared of him. And you tried to restrain yourself from slapping him right away. "Are you blackmailing me again, Soldier Boy?"

"Is just a warning," he said, nonchalantly. "Wouldn't want to harm such a pretty thing like you, now wouldn't we."

"Oh well, just a reminder I can also turn on the damn gas if needed," you snapped. The arrogant smirk on his lips fell off and it was your turn to smile back. "We all have hidden cards, right?"

Such an arrogant bitch, he thought.

"So, what's your plan?" you switched the subject to avoid going further into what was troubling him.

"What do you mean?"

"Homelander. You want him dead, don't you? You must be getting ready to fight again..."

His body seemed tense once you pushed him to talk, looking away from you to calm a bit. "Isn't that what all of you want?"

"Any sane person would love that, trust me."

Soldier Boy narrowed his eyes. "Well, I can do it. If I wasn't here... You've seen what he's capable of. Jesus, I've seen it," he bitterly chuckled. "And the kid? He's a fucking menace."

"You've been watching the news, I take that—"

"The fuck I do! Wasn't gonna wait for you to keep me up to date of what the fuck is going on!" Ben shouted, his loud voice roaring in your ears despite the distance.

"I don't want you to stress out more than you do," you said, vacillating. "A lot of things take time, such as you adapting to the twenty-first century."

"I'd love to know when that'll happen," Ben insisted. "Or else, I might just break out."

With a tentative smile, you started to write down the report. "I'm so glad you're talking more during our sessions."

You barely said goodbye to Soldier Boy once you finished your daily session. Your head was aching as you walked down the aisle, barely leaving the empty wing of the building behind. Certainly he was hard to handle and was behaving defensively. Before you left he began asking, or better said, bossing you to get him whatever the kid Hughie told him he needed to learn how to use. Shit like the internet and GPS, he said. You told him he was not ready for it yet.

But you'd give him a golden star for trying and insisting so badly, even if he was against eighty percent of your methods. He was up to something, there was no question for that. He was a soldier, more or less like his given supe name. People like him always had a plan, and underneath his facade, there were more plans backed up with words of honor that you had to track sooner or later.

As you made your way to your office, greeting your lab employees and guards, a disturbing sensation grew up inside. Before crossing the doorframe you subtly looked around, focusing for some reason in the security camera, more time than you'd like to admit. You turned again to finally get inside, facing the entry of your office when hurried steps and a voice stopped you from doing so.

"Doctor!"

Once again you turned on your heels to see your assistant, tablet in hand. Those had to be the results.

"Hey," you began. "You have everything?"

Bianca nodded with a straight face and handed you the tablet. You noticed her tight grip and her somehow trembling fingers when you took the device from her hands. You eyed her a little, she remained with her hands intertwined in front of her, her attention seemed lost. With caution, you continued to check the file.

"Is the patient alright?" you asked, reading the profile of the supe who had the not so good luck of being tested previously.

Solaris was his supe name. And he had the ability to manipulate light and matter with his mind. He had taken part in the program for a month now and this was his first test. As always, each supe you had into the program was low-profile. You were thankful of your team keeping these supes under their gaze to offer them some sort of solution, even after all the deaths you tracked from time to time when a test of the Anti-V was run. More than a solution for them, it was a partial contribution to find it.

You quickly scanned the updated file that Bianca completed for you. He was doing better than projected, his powers were still gone with a forecast of probably coming back within a couple of hours. A deep breath left your lips. Now that was an improvement. It was the first time anything like that happened on any tests. The supe survived, he was weak but the powers were off for a bit. It was a small step closer to your goal. Just a little bit more maybe and it could be done, finally...

"He's resting right now," Bianca interrupted your thoughts. Your eyes were back on her face.

"This is great news, thank you. I trust he's doing okay."

She nodded. "He is."

"Great, I guess I'll see him in a couple of hours," you said about entering your office.

"Wait!" Bianca suddenly closed the little space between both of you. She breathed heavily before stuttering words out. "I, I have- I'm sorry..."

"Are you okay?" you inquired, knowing her behavior was unusual. She swallowed down, turning her gaze away, her hands shaking. Was she sick? "Bianca, what's wrong?"

You tried to reach her cheek with your hand, but she stepped back abruptly, looking at you like if you were a ghost with her eyes red and wet, and a fine layer of sweat adorning her skin.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I'm so sorry," she sobbed.

You walked towards her, worried about what was going on but every step you took, she also gave it back.

"Bianca, what's happening?"

Her back bumped the wall of your office, and finally, she started to cry. "I'm sorry. You have to go, please..."

Your heart started pounding heavily on your chest. "What—"

"Go now! Please... Please don't hurt me..."

"I'm not going to hurt you, Bianca," you whispered, trying to comfort her.

But she continued crying and mumbled incoherent words with eyes shut, while hot tears streamed down her face. She choked on her sobs as she pleaded for her life. But you didn't understand why. You tried to soothe her, reaching her shoulder with your free hand.

And when you placed your palm on her, everything became red. It all happened in seconds. Ropes of warm blood covered your face in an instant. A loud gasp fell from your throat. You felt every drop mixed with brains on the skin of your face, on your neck, and sliding down the skin under your blouse. It was shocking and equally disgusting. And your eyes remained shut, not brave enough to move or see the horrid picture in front of you.

Your palm was still on her shoulder when the remains of her body fell to the ground with a thud. Your trembling hand wiped some blood from your face to open your eyes anew. The wall was painted with her, as much as you were, and it left a trail of blood from where her corpse slid to the floor. Her head long fucking gone.

"Shit."

Shit. Fucking shit. Was it him? It had to be him. There was no reason to doubt it. It was him. And he complied with his promise. Had Homelander been controlling Bianca? Was she the only one? No. There had to be something more. Homelander wasn't easy and he wasn't merciful with anyone. You had to stop him and get Soldier Boy out of the building. Now.

You tried to control yourself as best as you could, walking away to reach anyone, crossing a corner on the hallway, where a guard was casually passing by.

He stopped on his tracks at your sight, covered in blood and meat. "Doctor?"

"I need your help," you whispered.

He nodded quickly and you began explaining with a low, shaky voice.

"I don't know what happened, my assistant was right there with me when— Fuck!"

You walked some inches away when his head exploded, just like Bianca's did. Luckily, or not, this time was inside his helmet. All the red brains and blood were catched by it. Still, you wanted to throw up right fucking there. The remains of his body fell to the floor with a loud sound.

With a deep breath you continued your way, finding guards, lab assistants and agents. If they were alive, their heads popped into your sight. And if it was your somehow lucky moment of the day, you just found their headless corpses lying on the ground, creating a pool of blood you tried to avoid.

The only thing on your mind was taking Ben out of the building. The alarm had been turned on and the annoying sound of it was driving you crazy. Your head ached more than ever as you made your way to Soldier Boy for the second fucking time during the day.

Since there was no time to open the heavy door properly, you used a force field around the metal, moving the door until it slipped enough to let you in. You found him standing in the middle of the room. Eyes dark and alert, with fists and frame ready to fight. He wrinkled his nose once you entered the place.

"What the fuck's going on?" Ben growled, observing your blood covered face.

"We need to go, now. Take your clothes off."

He blinked, taken aback. Before he answered you continued with an explanation.

"I'll turn you invisible, but can't turn your clothes," you ordered, looking in the closet for a sports bag you knew was inside and picking a couple of shirts, pants and boxers as quickly as time allowed you to. Once finished, you turned to Ben again.

"Mind to fucking clarify?" he insisted. You sighed, closing your eyes for a moment.

"Look, I'll tell you everything once we're out," you turned one of your hands invisible for him to see.

Ben snorted with laughter. How ironic, he thought.

"No fucking way."

"Strip. We're leaving."

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy imagine #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys amazon fanfiction #the boys series #the boys tv #the boys amazon prime #jensen ackles fanfiction #soldier boy/ben

142 notes · View notes

nrdmssgs · 1 year

Text

John Price x reader (friends2lovers) part 2

Masterlist

Part 1

Pairing: Price x civilian afab reader

Summary: John fights his demons in the middle of the night, and you are clearly not helping. He doesn't mind, though.

Warnings: smut (under cut), kissing, body worship, oral (f receiving)

AN: Ok, apparently i'll need another part to end this one. Sorry guys, I tried to keep it clean and short, but I've failed. Price is still a big caring softie here.

Thank you for patience, dear @fruitymoonbeams-blog I hope, it was worth it.

“I thought, we had a deal. Something about you not working at my place?” His voice is still gruff after sleep as he stops behind the couch, but you don't even flinch, keeping reading and highlighting some text at the bottom of one of your documents. “I just need to review these contracts before next week,” you answer, not paying much attention to John. “Besides, I had enough sleep this day, hey—” He takes his reading glasses off your face and picks you up off the couch. “You are going to sleep.” He isn't event asking you, it is statement. You desperately grab a fist full of papers, before he carries you to your bedroom.

You ask him, why was he up in the middle of the night anyway, and he stiffens. “My brain chose violence today.” He gently lays you down on the bed and brushes a stray of your hair out of your face. “Nevermind... You know, what the real question is, though? Why did you steal m` bloody glasses? Old age hit you suddenly? Cant see a single freaking letter, granny?”

“Oh, shut up, you old bastard.” You reach out to grab his glasses, but he catches your hand mid-flight. “You're not getting those back, darling. But if you want your bedtime stories so bad, I can read them to you.” He takes the contracts from you, walks around the bed and lies down on the other side. "Where did you stop? On a tale of ... “repaying forfeits procedure”?" You nod and make yourself comfortable, resting your head on his shoulder.

He reads your contract in a quiet and calm voice. You ask him a couple of times to mark something in the text, but very soon your eyelids become heavy. When your breathing calms and deepens and you no longer comment on his reading, John sets aside the contracts and turns off the bedside lamp. He lies in the dark for a while, his fingers lightly tracing circles on your back. He takes in every second of this peaceful heaven: the silence, your barely audible breath, the warmth spreading through his body from where your cheek touches his chest. That moment of calm was worth stealing you away from the rest of the world for a few days.

He embraces you and shifts his weight to put you on a pillow. Before releasing his hand from under your head, he freezes, admiring your face. When you fall asleep, the wrinkles in the corners of your eyes, appearing from concentrated reading, smooth out. Price loves moments when your face is so relaxed. He leans down and whispers "Sweet dreams", barely touching your forehead with his lips. This is not even a real kiss. He wouldn't dare.

And just when he is about to move away, he hears your muffled voice. “You missed, Price. My lips are right there.” Your words catch him off guard and paralyze his mind. He doesn't move, doesn't even breathe for a few long seconds. His face still looms over yours as you slowly open your eyes. John can't believe his ears, so he searches for an approval in your soft gaze. You brush your fingers against his torso, your touch is light and not really demanding of anything. But for him, a warmth of your skin piercing through his shirts` fabric is everything that makes any sense right now. John looks down at your lips, closes his eyes and sighs. “Don't do this to me.”

As soon as you hear his words, your hands fall down on the bed. “I've misread.” Your voice does not change, and this phrase sounds just as warm and relaxed. But he can feel your pulse quicken and your face going warmer with an embarrassed blush. "No... No, you got it right." He moves back a few inches to see your entire face. "I want it. I dream about it. But I don't want to fuck up… our friendship. Can't afford to lose you.”

You stare at him confused and he proceeds. “I don't want one-night stand, I make a shitty “friend with benefit”... and even if you be so merciful to let such a duffer in your life - I don't want to drag you into the chaos of my work. I want to keep you safe from my problems. So there is no possible scenario—”

He stops talking, when you cover your eyes with your hand. “John…” You sigh heavily, massage your eyes, and move your hand away from your face. “Do you remember that time a few years ago, when your wound didn't heal properly, and you ended up in a hospital on Christmas?” He nods and squints slightly. “Of course, I remember. I ruined your vacation that time. You were supposed to sunbathe somewhere, and instead you kept visiting me in that hellhole.”

“There was no vacation.” The words escape your lips with a sad smile. “I haven’t taken any days off for a long time so that I could rush to you if anything happens. And every time you leave, I practically settle in my office only to run away from thoughts about you. I don't even know if I ever see you again, every time you get deployed. And as much as I hate the feeling, I chew it up. I am already not safe from your problems, Price…”

His deep blue eyes slowly widen, his face becomes more serious and dejected as he slowly remembers all the times when you came to help or take care of him, motivating this with lack of other plans. A heavy silence hangs in the air. He slowly and carefully hugs you, draws you closer and presses his lips to the top of your head. "Putting you through all this, not noticing anything. Guess, I'm just a bloody ignorant idiot." You feel him pulling you closer, hiding you in his hands.

“This is not an ignorance, John,” you smile, although sound somewhat bitter. “It's your way of… well, living through all this. And if you want to keep things this way - I won't cross any lines. Can't afford to lose you too. So… how about we forget this, meet tomorrow morning and go on enjoying our friendship?”

“No.” His lips are grazing over your forehead and down your cheeks. “I'm not forgetting this tomorrow.” A warm kiss is pressed against the corner of your lips. “And if you allow, I'll make you remember as well.” His hand cradles your head, fingers sink into your curls. Despite his soft touch, you can feel his skin burning, as his thumb brushes over your cheek. “But… only if and as long as you let me.” He doesn't move, waiting for your consent.

“My lips are still right there.” You almost feel something cracking and melting in his mind, as he hears your answer. John leans in and your lips meet. His first touch is gentle, even reserved in a way. As if he desperately holds back, trying to not scare you off. A second kiss feels almost the same: cautious and discreet, despite his lips linger a bit longer on yours. But when he kisses you for a third time, everything changes. He lets out a barely audible sigh, holding you by the back of your head, his tongue barely brushing the softest skin of your lips. This one is longer, much longer, as you respond to his movements, and he closes his eyes, losing himself in the feeling.

He feels as if the time itself stood still. You are right there, in his hands, alive and so warm and welcoming of his touch. And it wasn't one of his feverish dreams, because this time he actually felt your joyful eagerness to feel him closer, to embrace him tighter. He forced himself to pull away and pressed his forehead against yours. "If you don't want it, if you change your mind at any point - just say a word. Please, don't let me go on if you don't—”

You cut him off with another kiss. Hungry and long. He moans breathlessly into your mouth, his tongue parting your lips, his hands clutching around you. You feel how desperate his body for your touch is, how he shudders just when your fingers brush over his jaw. His muscles flex as he shifts his weigh, now looming over you. Your fingers slip under his shirt to run up from his stomach to his chest, meeting tense muscles radiating with heat.

“John, are you ok? You are burning…” You manage to ask, when his lips leave yours for a brief moment. “Your fault, love”. Price answers in a low, tad shaky voice, gives you one more kiss on the lips and moves down to your jawline. Every next touch is less discreet. There is hunger boiling deep inside him. And it starts spilling out, when your fingers tighten on his back. Kisses along your neck are intoxicating, tongue leaving a hot wet trail from under ear to collarbone. It's when you feel his teeth as well. You clench your teeth and sharply inhale.

John changes his behavior instantly. The place where just a second ago you felt the dangerous proximity of his teeth is now covered with kisses. "Sorry, love. It won't be this way, I promise." His voice is quiet, but you feel every word, reverberating through your rib cage, as he speaks pressing lips to your skin. You babble something, trying to reassure him, explain to him that you are not afraid of bites of him losing it, but it is useless.

“I need to say something.” His hand tucks under your shirt, fingers stroking your belly. “You drive me crazy. I've been dreaming of you for so long.” The fabric of your shirt is being slowly dragged up. “And I will do anything you want. Anything. As long as you let me be gentle to you this time.” His warm palm stops under your breasts, fingers a few inches from the most delicate skin. He knows how to make you dream about his touch. And he's not shy about using it. “If you ever wish to be with me again - it's no limits then. But this time… Please, I need it. I need to take care of you.” You nod, ready to agree to anything, as long as he doesn't stop.

He releases you from the shirt, and you are lost in his touch. His fingers and lips don't leave your body even for a split second. He whispers countless praises. "This." His warm breath rolls over your chest, teasing your nipples. “This is what I wanted to taste for so long.” His lips are soft against your breasts, he can't help but roll his tongue against your hardening nipple, ravishing in your quiet moans, moving to the other, while covering the first with his fingers. He takes his time. John maybe promised you to be gentle, but he never promised to not linger on every single inch of your beautiful breasts, tailored by mother nature so perfectly, looking so delicious.

You feel the heat spreading through and taking over your body. He's just started with you, and you are already drunk on his kisses, begging for more of him under your heavy breaths. “Patience, love. You'll get anything you ask for, but first.” He moves his hand between your thighs and gasps, feeling your soaking wetness. “Oh, poor thing, I was too caught up in a moment, didn't think you were that desperate already.” The warmth of his tongue trails down your body. “Don't worry, love, I'll make up for that.” Your panties slide down, as he pulls them. You clench your thighs together, as you are almost on the edge already, and you are a bit embarrassed to show him how painfully you need his touch, how much you crave him.

“Just a little taste, please. I'm starvin here, love,” he whispers in a raspy voice. “You are so unbelievably beautiful, you smell like heaven. I have to taste you.” You clutch at the sheet, trying to resist his voice. So John takes your hand and kisses the tips of your fingers, then gently runs his tongue over them. "I'll be very gentle. Just like this." His touch sends an electric shock through your body. You suffocate in impotent attempts to resist your desire and give in, whining. He doesn't take his eyes off you, and a satisfied smile blooms on his face. He places a few long kisses upon your sleek, before parting your glistening lips with hot tongue.

At the first touch of his tongue, tears burst out of your shut eyes. He's not just good, he's incredible. Long slow strokes from the bottom to the most sensitive spot on the top. His fingers squeeze your thighs, leaving red marks on them. He promised to be gentle... Well, his tongue is gentle. And persistent. John does not hide his pleasure, he groans, slurping against every drop of your juices. You hear every movement of his tongue, wet and slippery sounds filling the room. This only seems to spur John on. He does not leave you for a second, taking all control over your body and going on and on.

"Please... I can't hold back any longer!" You try to be more restrained, quieter, but all your attempts fail, and you just beg him to stop before you reach the peak. "Hold back? Why did you decide to hold back in the first place?” He chuckles, looking up, his voice croaky. You try to answer something articulate, but fail ultimately. “Love.” He smiles mischievously. “I want your release.” His finger slowly slides and curls inside. “I need your release. Stop holding it back.” He again clung to your cunt, caressing your swollen clit with his tongue. He didn't stop for a second, though he moaned at every wave of shivers that ran through your body. You yourself didn't know, your body could feel that good. You just lost yourself in his touch, in his hungry caresses.

Your peak washed over your body in several powerful waves. Your back arched and the sensation of his touch sent your mind spiraling, zeroing out all the sounds and colors around you. You were lost in time and space. You didn't know, how much time you've spent almost unconscious, all you knew was that you when your eyes opened again - you were in his hands. He cradled you in his hands and was not covering your face with small tender kisses. “My girl. So good to me. So sensitive. So goddamn tasty. Absolutely divine little thing.” He cooed as he kept kissing every inch of your face, gently rocking your body in his hands back and forth.

When you opened your eyes, he kissed away the last tears rolling down your jaw and smiled. “Thank you, love.” His blue eyes looked wildly beautiful with blown pupils. You found his lips, kissed him with all the gratitude and tenderness that you were capable of at that moment. As he answered on your kiss eagerly, you whispered. “John, I need you inside. Please… Please!”

His blue eyes fluttered open. He kept looking at you. "Are you sure?" his voice was quiet and deep. "Please!" you grabbed the edge of his shirt.

Without letting go of you, he sat up in bed. Your thigh gently brushed against something large, something hot and barely pulsing. "Please remember that you can stop me at any time." Desire mixed with apprehension in his eyes.

357 notes · View notes

piratekane · 2 years

Text

and now, the continuation of Hell's Kitchen forever roommates

“What if they don’t like me?”

Beatrice frowns and pauses for a moment on the sidewalk. Ava goes two steps past her before she stops and looks back, her own frown on her face.

Ava fills her confused silence. “Oh, god. They’re not going to like me.”

Beatrice sees a large group of students walking towards them and grabs for Ava instinctively, pulling her out of their orbit. It puts them on the road and into a small snowbank, but Beatrice can worry about the snow seeping in through the mesh of her sneakers another time, when Ava’s forehead isn’t pinched together in worry.

“Why wouldn’t they like you?”

She’s curious, because she’s not sure she’s met anyone who doesn’t like Ava. Granted, she’s known Ava for 3 weeks tomorrow - she’s hardly counting the days, she just had a substantial paper due that day and she had been treating herself to a macchiato with a double shot, just because, when Ava crash landed at her table - but in that time, she’s seen Ava meet at least two dozen people and every single one of them walked away with a smile on their face.

But the confident Ava she’s known over the last 3 weeks is not the girl in front of her, nervously bouncing onto the tips of her toes with an almost frenetic energy that Beatrice could reach out and wrap her hand around. She wonders what would happen if she did, if she reached out and put a hand on Ava’s shoulder. Her hands, now pushed deep into her pockets, flex at the idea.

They’re just… not those kinds of friends. Beatrice is not that kind of friend with anyone, really. Maybe Lilith, in their own way, after years growing up at the same political parties forcing each other into the other’s orbit. And Camila is tactile, but seems to understand that Beatrice needs her space, and she reserves hugs for extra special occasions, still not quantifiable to Beatrice on any level.

Ava squirms in front of her and Beatrice’s hand clenches into a fist so tightly that she can feel the pinch of her fingernails in the soft skin of her palm. The big clock tower in the center of the quad chimes once, twice, twelve times. Noon exactly.

“Well, for example, I’m making us late.” Ava points into the sky, presumably towards the clock tower. “And I forgot my hat. You know how much better I look in my hat.”

She doesn’t, because she’s never seen Ava in a hat before. But she understands the anxiety of meeting new people. So she smiles calmly and clenches and she takes a step closer to Ava. “We reviewed this, didn’t we?”

Ava’s head bobs up and down, face open. Beatrice likes this, that she can tell Ava is listening to her and taking in what she’s saying. “Yes.” Ava nods again. “We went over everyone already. You…” Ava’s mouth lifts in just one corner. “You were very thorough.”

She swallows a little tightly. “You wanted to be prepared.”

“I did. I do!” Ava sways forwards, hands outstretched as if she’s going to reach out and grab Beatrice, shake her into understanding that she means it. “I’m just… I’m nervous. I don’t meet new people all the time.”

Beatrice can’t stop the snort of surprise. It’s inelegant and loud and a trickle of embarrassment runs cold down her spine. She schools her face and lifts her chin into the air just a little. “Ava, I’ve seen you meet at least 10 new people this week alone.”

Ava opens her mouth and snaps it closed again. “Okay,” she finally says, stilling for a moment. “But those people didn’t matter. These people do.”

Yes, they do. They matter to Beatrice more than nearly anything else in her life. Her friends have become her family over the last few years. They’ve seen her at her worst, celebrated her best moments. Lilith is the one she calls on the days when her parents’ letters find their way into her mailbox. Camila is her self-appointed study buddy, keeping her from setting up camp in the library. Mary and Shannon keep her company on the nights when Beatrice feels like she just needs some quiet but doesn’t want to be alone.

She wasn’t aware she had made Ava feel the same way.

“They’re going to like you.” She says confidently, like she already knows.

It’s been 3 weeks and she already knows she likes Ava. Enough to share her favorite table in the student center. Enough to let her strict study time slip away without noticing. Enough to take Ava’s quiet admission of not knowing a lot of people and immediately telling this strange girl who appeared seemingly out of nowhere that she could meet her friends, if she wanted to.

Ava exhales loudly. “You’ll still like me, even if they don’t, right?” That nervous energy is back. Beatrice gets as far as letting her hand drop from her pocket, but it stays firmly against her side. “It won’t change your mind?”

She can’t possibly know that. Her friends are good judges of character. They immediately saw that Lucia was going to be a problem, even though Beatrice hadn’t thought so. And they were right. If something was wrong with Ava, they’d tell her.

The problem is that, even if they did find something wrong with her, she’s not sure she’d want to know.

So she says, “I’ll still like you,” with her full chest and it seems to soothe some of Ava’s nerves. She settles a little, body coming to a resting state and her shoulders rolling back. She smiles and it seems strong, steady. The crowd passes them on the sidewalk and Beatrice steps back onto it, waiting for Ava to slide in alongside her. Their shoulders bump, their elbows brush.

“I’m going to knock this out of the park,” Ava says, a sudden gust of confidence in her words. “You know that?”

Beatrice doesn’t know, but she believes her. The cold winter air bites at her cheeks and she ducks her head against a slight breeze but Ava turns her face into it, eyes closed slightly and a small smile on her face. Beatrice watches her for a moment. She’s so… free. It’s one of the first things Beatrice noticed about her - how unburdened she seemed to be.

They’re slipping into the student center before she knows it and she soaks in the warmth, unbuttoning her thick winter coat. Ava is back to bouncing again, each step pushing her up into the air a little bit. Beatrice heads towards the small section of tables near the entrance to the science building where she knows her friends are waiting for her.

They’re not those kinds of friends, but Ava reaches out and grabs her arm, squeezing tightly. “This is going to be great.” Beatrice knows she’s saying it more for her own benefit than Beatrice’s so she smiles and nods in agreement, arm burning through the thick wool of her coat where Ava’s hand is wrapped around it.

Ava doesn’t let go and walks at an odd angle, half-dragging Beatrice beside her.

Mary spots them first. Beatrice prides herself on knowing her friends and she can tell Mary is surprised. At Ava or the fact that she’s pulling Beatrice behind her like the wake of a speedboat, she’s not sure. But Beatrice gives nothing away, not challenging the look on Mary’s face as it goes from surprise to curiosity. Mary smacks Shannon in the shoulder lightly, nodding towards their strange approach. Lilith looks up from her phone, eyes narrowing in on Ava and Beatrice sends up a silent prayer that Lilith’s bark is worse than her bite today. Camila turns, face brightening.

“Beatrice!”

Beatrice smiles fondly and she feels Ava looking at her, mirroring her. Ava drags her the last few feet and comes to a stop just outside of the small circle the others have created.

“Hi!” She grins, eyes moving from person to person. “I’m Ava.”

Camila and Shannon smile. Mary nods again, a silent greeting. Lilith stands, spine perfectly straight, and stares down at Ava. Ava, to her credit and Beatrice’s amusement, just smiles a little wider.

“You’re Lilith,” she guesses.

Lilith’s eyes cut to Beatrice. “What gave that away?”

“Beatrice won’t shut up about your smile.”

Mary snorts, not bothering to cover the sound. Camila hides her smile. Lilith continues to look Ava over with narrowed eyes before her chin tips almost imperceptibly - a silent fine, she can stay. Beatrice feels a rush of relief settle in her stomach that surprises her. She didn’t know she cared so much about Lilith’s opinion.

“I’m Camila.” Camila sticks her hand out and Ava finally lets go of Beatrice’s arm, looking curiously at it before shaking it. “Beatrice won’t stop talking about you.”

“That’s not true,” she says at the same time as Ava turns to her and says, “I knew it.”

Beatrice shakes her head. “You knew nothing. Maybe I’m not saying anything nice.”

Ava pushes her hand into her pocket and rocks to one side, shoulder knocking into Beatrice. “Oh, come on. I’m pretty great. You can admit that. You don’t have to show off for your friends.”

“Yeah, Beatrice,” Mary drawls. “Don’t show off for us.”

“Mary,” Ava says. Her eyes are bright. “Beatrice says a lot about you.”

“Oh, so she’s saying things about us.” Mary crosses her arms over her chest, eyebrow raised in challenge. “What’s she saying?”

“She’s saying-” Ava’s eyes cut to her and then she slams her mouth shut, miming pulling a zipper across her lips. Her shoulder bumps Beatrice’s again as she shakes with a silent, unexplained laugh.

A curious feeling comes over Beatrice. It almost feels like fondness. Which can’t be true, of course. Because she’s known Ava for 3 weeks tomorrow and that’s certainly not enough time to be… enamored by someone. She’s known her barista longer than that and has nothing but passing gratitude for her and the extra shot she sometimes surprises Beatrice with. She’s known her advisor since freshman year and she’s only ever felt appreciation for him.

Fondness is something reserved for her friends, not someone so new like Ava.

“Nothing but nice things,” she finally says.

“Well, we’ve heard nothing but the same about you,” Camila fills in. She loops her arm through Ava’s, pulling her closer to the couch she’d abandoned a moment ago. Ava looks back at Beatrice over her shoulder before sitting down next to Camila. “So, tell me about yourself. Beatrice says you’re a freshman.”

Mary sidles up next to her, her shoulder replacing the feeling of Ava’s. “She seems… excitable. Is she.. Is she wiggling?”

Beatrice looks. Yes, Ava is moving animatedly, hands moving in wild circles as she tells Camila and Shannon something and Lilith looks on with mild disapproval. She smiles. She knew Camila would immediately pull Ava into a conversation where she could… Well, Beatrice can admit to herself that Ava is charming. And that charm seems to extend to everyone, Beatrice included.

“Beatrice nearly caught bedbugs from her freshman year roommate,” Shannon is telling her now. “What was her name again? Crimson?”

Ava’s nose wrinkles. “That’s a name?” She shrugs it off. “My roommate isn’t bad. Chanel is definitely cooler than me. She goes to all the campus parties. But she’s moving out at the end of the semester and I’m going to get stuck with someone new.” She pouts, bottom lip pushed out dramatically. “I don’t want to live there anymore.”

“Beatrice has a spare room opening up. Don’t you, Beatrice?” Camila looks at her over Ava’s head and Beatrice does an admirable job of keeping her face neutral. Ava is still, effectively, a stranger. And Beatrice knows well enough that you don’t invite a stranger to move in with you. Though, she supposes that freshmen do, in fact, move in with strangers. Still. Beatrice won’t do it. Camila is still smiling. “You guys should talk about it.”

Mary must feel the way she’s suddenly pulled rigid. Because that shoulder presses warmly against her and Mary sucks her teeth for a second before she leans forward and exhales. Beatrice braces herself. Mary looks like a father ready to interrogate the boy picking up her daughter for the night. Beatrice’s forehead wrinkles at the thought as it comes on suddenly. What a strange thing to think.

“So, Ava. Any extracurriculars? What do you do on the weekends? Any criminal history we need to know about?”

Ava, to her credit, places her hands on her knees and straightens up higher than Beatrice has seen her so far - 3 weeks tomorrow, she thinks. Not a lifetime - as she thinks of her answers. “No criminal history, yet. Though Chanel has informed me that I’ve committed many crimes against fashion. I don’t think she appreciates my minion pajamas, though. She should. They’re the most comfortable thing besides not wearing pants.” She purses her lips. “As for extracurriculars… none yet. Though, there’s a rock climbing place nearby that the intramural team goes to sometimes! One of the guys in my math class told me about it.”

Camila immediately pouts. “I want to go to the rock climbing place.”

“We should!” Ava looks around, excitement effusing from her. “We could do that. I think they do group discounts.”

“Someone won’t do it with us,” Camila continues, pointedly not looking at her.

Ava looks at each of their faces before her eyes settle on Beatrice. “You don’t want to go rock climbing? Why not?”

Beatrice has a myriad of reasons: the chalk is is supposedly notoriously difficult to get out of clothes, the place seems to be crowded with college students and little kids at birthday parties, the workers there are college students and she wouldn’t trust them to hold open a door let alone keep her suspended above the ground. And most importantly, a thought she keeps to herself: she’s not sure she’ll be good at it.

Then Ava does something Beatrice knows is going to be ruinous. She turns her whole body towards Beatrice, that same open look on her face, head tipped to one side as a slight smile starts to build in the corner of her mouth. “I think you should try it. And I think you should try it with me.”

All of the reasons, carefully crafted into an argument she used with Mary and Camila and Shannon and Lilith, evaporate. They disappear into Ava’s hopeful smile. Every part of her that rebelled against the idea, that kept her refusal steadfast, is gone in the instant that Ava nods encouragingly.

“Okay,” she hears herself say.

Though, it can’t actually be her, Because she said no to this the last three times she was asked about it. But it is her. Camila lets out a small excited cheer, Shannon smiles, Lilith’s face flickers in approval, Mary stares at her openly, and Ava beams.

“Rock climbing!” Ava looks around excitedly. “You guys must not have tried hard to change her mind very hard.” They’re not those kinds of friends but Ava reaches over and grabs Beatrice’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “That was so easy,” she laughs.

Mary is still staring at her. She feels it against the side of her face and she refuses to turn towards her. She lifts her chin into the air slightly, pointedly, and does a good job pretending all of her attention is on Ava asking Camila about the right kind of shoes and whether or not she'll be able to climb without a harness. They’re tight, she’s saying.

Mary bumps into her again and she finally has to look. “That was so easy.” She mimics Ava quietly enough that no one hears them. “Tell me, Beatrice. Did we not try hard enough?” There’s a smirk growing on her face, a telltale sign that Mary knows the answer to her own question.

So Beatrice doesn’t bother offering a different one.

“I like her,” Mary says after another minute of stretched out silence. “I think she’s going to be good for you.”

Beatrice frowns. “Good for me?” She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. I think she’s going to be a terrible influence.”

Mary sneaks a hand to her elbow. “I think maybe you need that every once in a while. Makes you a little more human.” She squeezes Beatrice’s arm, taking the sting out of the words. “Better stop her before Camila ropes her into something though. Because the two of them seem dangerous together.” Mary slips away, back to Shannon’s side.

Beatrice watches Ava, still animated, going on too quickly for Beatrice to tune into and keep up with. Even Lilith looks less disgruntled than usual, a rare flicker of a smile on her face so briefly that Beatrice could have possibly imagined it. She thinks of Ava’s question, so foolishly asked. What if they don’t like me?

Another thought worms its way inside her brain. What if they like her too much?

What if I like her too much?

But Ava looks back at her and smiles and Beatrice just simply tucks that thought away for later. Apparently, she’s going rock climbing.

#warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #everyone say thank you kay thank you kay #she's asking Questions and i'm writing 2k responses #forever roommates #it was a snow day today!#and this was the most productive i was #now to bury my head in the sand

563 notes · View notes