#but i didn’t think too much of that because i have migraines often

[lucrativesoul]

The Assistant

summary: you have been promoted within the police headquarters, and your new position is the assistant of none other than Leon S. Kennedy. the ever alluring man has you weak in the knees.

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

word count: 9.9k

warnings: smut, boss x employee, very brief mention of smoking, very vague drug mention.

a/n: yay i'm posting it :3 using this photo cause i couldn't stop thinking of noir leon while writing this (brainrot) i didn't originally intend for this to be so long but here we are... this was different than what i'm used to writing but it was so much fun! already in the process of a second fic! enjoy yall

“So… I’m not fired?” 

Standing in front of your boss’ desk, you were genuinely surprised by the words out of her mouth. For some reason, for the last few weeks, you had a hunch that you were about to get sacked. The office had been slowly getting emptied out, of boxes full of documents, of equipment, hell, even of people, and you were positive you were next. 

She had just called out into her office, a mere twenty steps away from your desk where you worked, or used to work, now, in the dingy yellow room with foggy windows and no working AC. You took a deep breath, thinking this was it, getting ready to add this to the list of ‘Previous Employment’ on your resume, when all she had simply told you was that you were going upstairs.

She laughed curtly. “No, you aren’t. They need you upstairs. You’ll be better off up there.”

You slowly nodded your head, trying to keep most of the confusion off of your face. “So, sorry to ask, but, what about down here?”

You had been here for just shy of a year at this point, and they placed you in one of the ground floor offices of the five story buildings sorting out random court documents, for whatever reason, they were always needed for something incomprehensible. You didn’t question it, you just did it, because you got paid to. Yes, the fluorescents gave you occasional migraines and stepping into the fresh air at the end of the day made you feel reborn, but it was just busy work, and there were much worse jobs to do.

“They’re cleaning us out. We’re all still here, just… relocated.” You nodded, at least relieved to know that your old deskmates weren’t ruthlessly fired. She handed a manila folder over to you, and when you flipped it open, there was only one piece of paper inside. You’ve learned to not be surprised by confusing things such as this. “Mr. Anderson of the top floor has recently been relieved of his position.” Ouch, you thought. Poor soul. “His position had been freed and with no new applicants, they were looking inward. I appreciate your work here and your employment history shows some experience in the assistance department, so I suggested you as a candidate. They want you up there.” 

Your stomach sank, and your best friend’s voice rang out through your head. “You can’t lie about past employment, idiot! They can check!” Well, you held back a sigh, they definitely didn’t check.

“Wow, I… Thank you. But, sorry. That I’m leaving.”

She merely shook her head. “Still here. This office will be gone soon enough. Between us, I’ve been praying for this day.” With that, she dismissed you, and after swiping the few personal items off your desk and into your bag, you headed home.

This single paper had stumped you all night. You sat at your table after eating (barely, you were too nervous about starting a basically new job the next day), and decided to review the content of it before retiring for the night. It was quite simple: it listed the job description, ‘Executive Assistant’, it listed the location, ‘5F, 505’, and your new boss’ name, ‘Leon S. Kennedy, Exec. Agent’.

You had honestly not heard this name before. You should know everyone who works there, considering the nature of the police headquarters, but you were often forgotten down in the basement, no one too important worked down there, besides your boss, or old boss now, who had connections to all other departments. Everyone got there before you and left after you. Could be at the same time, but you often tuned it out, needing the sweet release of your home. You wondered why she volunteered you up for this. Maybe she was sympathetic about the setting you had to work in for someone your age.

You went to bed after deciding there was no hidden detail in the few lines of script on the sheet. You would just have to wait and see.

Figuring the gray dress pants and white, long sleeve mock neck that you threw on this morning were good enough, you left the house early enough to prepare by buying a coffee. Being stuffed into the basement had its perks, eventually everyone had caught on to the idea that they just needed you guys down there to do what they didn’t want upstairs, and you and your coworkers had found the thin cracks in which you could push the dress code a little. No, leggings weren’t permitted, but they were on the days your slacks were dirty and when you put a dress shirt and sweater on over it. You were sure your boss noticed, but said nothing anyway. Clearly, it didn't put a dent in what she thought of you.

You had to at least try today though, as you had no idea what it would be like to work on the top floor. You had no idea what kind of a person Agent Kennedy was, and you weren’t going to chance anything on the first day. You had played it safe when you first started here and it paid off, so fingers crossed it could pay off again.

After a few deep breaths, you popped the door open and headed into the building. Usually, you could park in the back and take the lower level entrance, which was essentially the one and only way into the basement that wasn’t from the service elevator, but you went in through the front today. You ignored the tightening of your stomach and climbed the stairs. 

“Can I help you?” A man stood from the front desk at your arrival. You started reaching for the ID card you carried on a lanyard, stuffed into your pocket.

“Yes, I work here.” He reached out for your ID, not believing your truth.

He raised an eyebrow. “The basement entrance is in the back of the building.” He handed it back and went to sit down.

“Yes, I know, I was moved. I’m going upstairs.” You handed him the manila folder before he could ignore you further. He raised an eyebrow again after looking at the small paper.

“Alright, Anderson’s replacement. Fifth floor, to the right.” He motioned to his left to the elevator, and only then did you let him sit back down. 

You took the walk to the elevator as a chance to survey the room. You hadn’t been over here very often. You made a few trips up here a few months ago, but you didn’t look around much, only headed to the confidential files room to move information. The floor was a sleek black tile, shiny as ever, and the room was lit well due to the large windows at the front of the building. It didn't look like a headquarters building. You told yourself it wasn’t to calm your nerves.

Swallowing the last of the anxiety, you stepped out onto the fifth floor. It was simply a hallway, all black, but the windows at the end made the space seem larger, and not so dark. To the right, you remember the man telling you. Your footsteps were reverberating off of the walls, matched with the pounding of your blood flow in your ears.

The corridor opened up to a wider room, inhabited by a handful of other people. One of them spotted your arrival, and walked over.

“Good morning, I’m–”

“Yes, right over here. Glad to see you.” You were taken aback for a moment, They already know me? You thought, as you followed the young man to a large desk on the left side of the wall, facing inward to the foyer. You were sitting in front of floor to ceiling windows, across the room was the same setup with a few smaller desks, people scuttling back and forth on their own side. You turned back to thank the man, when your heart fluttered in relief.

“Thank you,-- Oh, my gosh, Brett, you work up here now?” Brett was an old deskmate that had left the small office three months ago. You didn’t get a chance to say goodbye, but the last day that you saw him you remember eating lunch on his desk with another coworker who sat in front of you two. You were saddened by his loss, but now absolutely relieved to have a familiar face.

“I know, right? They said you were coming. I’m glad you got out next. It’s better up here.” He let you put your stuff down and get settled, before telling you what your next moves should be. “He’s in a meeting right now, but he wanted to meet you once you got here. Don’t be nervous, but brace yourself. He’s serious. Mostly. I’ve seen him smile once, but he’s nice to the rest of us. Hopefully more to you.”

After a few more minutes of small talk, he left you on your own, and you passed the time getting used to the surroundings while waiting for your new boss to be out of his meeting. Early for a meeting, you thought, but then again, it didn’t take a whole team for one person to make a conference call. 

There was a momentary beep sound that came from Brett’s desk, and he picked up the phone. He said one thing into it before hanging up. He turned to you. “He’s ready.”

The nerves came back, but at the comforting thought that there was at least one person you knew out here, you tried your best to look forward to just sitting back down at your desk.

You were about to knock, but figured otherwise since he had directly asked for your presence. You walked up to the large double doors, and pulled them open.

His back was to you when you closed the door behind you. Walking closer, you stopped a few paces away, observing him for a brief second. He had a white dress shirt on and a gray vest. He looked quite large from where you stood, and you were sure that he was at least 6 feet tall, probably taller. He was messing with some papers on his desk, and you took a quick breath before speaking.

“Good morning, sir.” You stood tall, shoulders back, hands clasped behind yourself. Don’t cross your arms in front of you, you recall trying to retrain your habits, you look insecure. He turned around.

You swallowed hard. Jesus Christ, there were no tips on that blog on what to do when your boss is straight out of People Magazine’s sexiest men alive. His ash blonde hair was pushed back off of his forehead, showcasing his sturdy bone structure, a deep, furrowed brow that lacked any wrinkles, and high cheekbones with a sharp jawline. Straight nose, strong chin, and shoulders the size of, well, you. Maintaining eye contact was a challenge. 

You saw him give you a quick once over, all the way down and back up your body again, so brief like it never happened at all. You were itching to pull your arms back in front of yourself.

“Good morning.” He took one step closer to you, held out his hand, and you gingerly took it. His hand was rough, yet the handshake was gentle. “Agent Leon Kennedy.” He lowered his hand and put it in his pocket. His other hand was holding a file. “I hope once you are comfortable here we will work well together.”

You gave a tight smile, forcing your face to make it look natural. You were sure it didn’t. “I look forward to working with you.” Your voice was a lot breathier than intended. 

The corner of his mouth twitched in a hidden smirk. Leon could definitely tell you were nervous. It was a big part of his job, after all. He handed the file over to you. “Just run these for a while. Find me when you finish them.” You took the folder. He stood there momentarily, watching you. “You can relax a little. I’m not going to kill you.” He stalked back over to his desk and sat down, attention still on you. 

You mumbled while flipping through the file. Attempting to lighten the mood, “I would, but smoking is not allowed in the building.”

“That will kill you, you know.” His voice was light. He took the joke well.

You closed it and looked back up at him, a small smile playing on your lips. “Would you prefer if I drank myself stupid, then?” He said nothing, and just smiled at you. Yours grew wider. “I’ll see you soon with this, sir.” You turned and left.

The day passed with ease. It was no difficult task to focus, now that the nerves were buried and you knew what it was that you had to be doing. Lunch with the others came and went, and it took you a fair chunk of your day to run the files he handed over. It was similar to what they had you doing in the basement, but the addition of sunlight unobstructed by dirty windows made it seem like a fun job.

You had attempted humor with Leon within the first few minutes of meeting him. You probably shouldn’t have, but no one in your life could force you to give up making jokes in serious situations. That’s just how you operated. Leon didn’t seem to care. He actually smiled. Brett had told you he rarely does that, and you made him after only a minute. It honestly had your heart racing all day.

With only an hour left in the day, you packed up the papers Leon had given you along with some new printed ones. You knocked on the door this time, and opened it when he beckoned you in.

“Sorry it took me so long. Little more labor intensive than I’m used to.” He took the file you were handing over, and put it on his desk without looking inside. He was sitting turned toward the computer on his desk, and though he told you to come in, you hoped you weren’t interrupting anything. 

“Thank you. No more of that librarian sorting you were all doing down there.” So, he knows. It was no secret you were sure, but you were still surprised that he knew you worked in the building at all. Leon turned his attention back to his desk for a moment, and you stood there, head tilted slightly to view what he was looking at. He turned back to you, and your head snapped up to make eye contact. “I have nothing else for you right now. Boring day for you to start. You can go home. Tomorrow, if you don’t mind, I’m going to have you review some portfolios and slides I have, so you can become familiar with the content. I have some meetings coming up later in the week, or next, there's a good chance you’ll be coming with me.” he swiveled himself around and grabbed a stack of papers sitting on top of a file cabinet, held together with a paperclip. “Just put this on your desk for now, for the morning.” It was something along the lines of criminal justice and related business strategies. This would be a doozy.

“Of course, sir. As you wish.” You took a step back to leave. “Thanks for the early day.” You sent a halfhearted smile his way. He didn’t reflect it, but his eyes were soft.

After a few seconds of holding your stare, he said, “Already better than Anderson. I like you.”

Your stomach tightened, and you had to force yourself to breathe normally. “I hope I can continue to please, then.” You felt his stare hot on your back as you left, but you remained composed. Once, and only once, the doors were shut, you shakily exhaled, and quickly packed up to leave.

The week went by with a pace you were never used to with your job. You found yourself excited to come to work, excited to see Leon. If you had known you worked in the same building this whole time, you would have been begging your old boss to get moved.

It was a rather tame week, and you weren't sure if it was because there was no work, or this is just what the workload was always like here. It was now Friday, you sat at your desk going through a database page for the assignment you had to review before the meeting Leon had said you were attending. It definitely made you nervous, this was past your parameters and you hadn’t had any sort of experience with something this serious. At least, that’s what you thought it would be. You needed to be prepared for that so you didn’t look incompetent for this job that you only just got. 

Resting your chin on your hand with the other slowly scrolling through the page with the mouse, you cocked your head and looked up when Leon suddenly appeared in front of you. You shot a smile at him.

“Were you in a meeting?” He stood so tall from this angle with you sitting down, and your neck almost hurt looking up at him. 

“Yeah, light work though.” He held onto a file with his left hand. The right was in his pocket. He turned briefly to look behind him at the others who worked in the small lobby. “So, about that meeting next week,” you nodded, shifting your posture now. “It’s Monday morning. I just need you to be there to help with any outside communications like other appointments since it might be a while. I sent this to you–” He motioned to your computer, which was the PDF you had been reading from his email. “In case something happened to mine for whatever reason. God forbid...” He mumbled, partially rolling his eyes. You chuckled. “Good for you to know it though.”

“I figured. This is also light work.” You cocked a smile, and he repeated the action. “As long as I’m not being expected to execute the whole presentation, I think I can serve well to take calls for you.”

A quiet laugh rumbled out from him. “That’s all I need you for. It’s not here,” He leaned onto your desk with one arm, and you had to desperately peel your eyes away from the way his veins flexed in his forearm. The image was already burned into your brain. “It’s in the branch a couple cities over, so… If you would like to meet me somewhere over here,” You tried to swallow at the implication, but your throat was suddenly so dry. “You know, to make it easier.”

You drew in a breath. “Of course,” You put your hands into your lap so he wouldn't see you nervously wringing your fingers together. “How did you know about my minor driving anxiety?” You playfully quirked an eyebrow at him. 

He smiled. “Intuition. Or my job training.” He stood up straight now. You found yourself wishing he wouldn't leave. “You can leave at three with the rest of them today. I’ll see you on Monday.” You only released the breath you were holding when he was safely behind the confines of his office doors.

The weekend allowed a little relaxing, but mostly anxiety the close it came to Monday. You were finding it increasingly difficult to stop thinking about Leon. This whole week felt like a dream. Your body felt hot anytime you were alone in his office, or anytime he merely stopped at your desk to drop something off. You felt so small next to him, and almost struggled to form coherent thoughts when you had to speak to him. Your eyes thoroughly raked his body up and down when he was turned, his broad expanse of back and shoulders nearly turned your brain to slush. He always smelled like crisp cologne, something expensive, it had to be. 

You found yourself thinking too often about the way he looked at you. It was a stare that wasn't something you were used to receiving on a daily basis. There was something else… His gaze was dark and luring. Like he knew what you were thinking. Like when you two made eye contact, he knew he was the object of your fantasy. 

Which, yes, it had only been a week, but you had to admit, you had never seen anyone this attractive before. And here you were, working for him. It only made your skin heat up more at the knowledge that it was forbidden. It heightened the experience every time you had to see him. That was your boss, and he sure did have that power over you. The conversations you had with him bordered on strictly work, but you were dying to see another side of him. The smirk he gave you when you made him laugh had your stomach twisting in a way that lasted long after the interaction was over. Every time you said something that gave him that reaction, you needed to make it happen again. It felt like a new addiction that developed way too fast. You wondered if he could tell. You at least tried to be subtle about it. 

A shiver raked through your body as you stood outside of your car early that Monday morning. It wasn’t that cold, but you didn't think the weather was the reason you were shivering. You had arrived at headquarters to meet with Leon, as he offered to take you over to another city's department for his meeting. The aforementioned shiver happened immediately after turning and seeing Leon in the same outfit as you saw when you first met him.

His button down shirt strained on his biceps when he moved, and the gray vest sat perfectly on his waist, making you realize exactly how his frame would look underneath his clothes. You had to push this aside as he motioned you to come over to his car.

It was a sleek black sedan, which made sense for who he was. You felt shielded from the world as you closed the door, the tint locking you in next to your boss, who was insanely close to you, and you feared could hear your frantic heartbeat. 

He placed a few files on your lap and you let them sit there for the time being. “I was going to get you coffee, but I didn't know how you would take it.”

You held back a smile at the thought of Leon thinking of you this morning. “It’s okay, but thanks. I already had some.” You saw Leon nod out of your peripheral, and you could only look forward, knowing you might stare if you turned your head. 

“But you take…” Leon prompted. He’s curious anyway? Is he expecting to do it in the future? You could have exploded. 

After rattling off the basics of what you drink, he replied, “Sounds very sweet.” You laughed and nodded. “I don't know about all that. Maybe I’ll try it out.”

“You don’t strike me as the type to be into sweet things.” You risked a look over, and when you did, he mirrored the action with a grin on his face.

“You’d be surprised.”

Thankfully, you were very relieved at the end of the day when the meeting went by with minimal interaction on your part. You were introduced to some of the other important players in the legal game that knew Leon, and sat off to the side with one of the files he handed you. Despite most of the information going over your head, you still paid attention, at least to make Leon look good and show that you were a competent assistant. 

The sun was close to setting by the time you filed back out into the lot, trailing right behind Leon. Slipping into his passenger’s seat, he followed a second after, and you felt your body physically relax knowing the stressor of the week was now defeated.

“Not so bad, right?” He spoke without looking over, shifting gear and taking off.

“Are they always this long? Maybe I should plan ahead and bring multiple drinks with me.” 

He chuckled. “Only sometimes. This one was important, that’s why. They usually aren’t outside the city either so… consider this an introduction to the team.”

You rolled your eyes and looked over. “Do you keep forgetting that I already worked here before this?” You heard the smile through your own voice, and saw one creep on his face as he kept his eyes on the road. Your heart felt light. 

“No, absolutely not. The pace you work at is evident enough of that. It’s just a different type of job, I’m sure. I don’t really know what goes on down there.”

With the smile still on your face, you let your eyes linger on him for a moment more. His hair, which was pushed on top of his head, was starting to fall, and a strand fell onto his forehead. The past week, he had worn it down a couple of times, and you honestly didn't know which one you preferred.

You rolled your head over to the side, watching the passing cars go by. The radio was on, but at the lowest volume, merely for ambiance. Your hand brushed over the files on your lap, that you had taken back from Leon upon leaving so he could shake hands with whoever he needed to, and pried open one of them.

Before your eyes could even properly latch onto any words, Leon’s hand reached over and gently pushed the top of the file closed, and you looked over at him.

“That’s confidential, you know.” He looked over at you for a brief second, but you could see he wasn’t mad. 

“Sorry. I was just sitting through that whole thing, though, in case you forgot.” You looked back down at your lap and noticed Leon’s hand was still on the file, the weight of it heavy on your thighs.

“No, I didn’t forget. I don’t know how much of it was digestible to you.” He barely lifted his hand off of the file folder, pulling it sideways, landing it on your thigh for a second. His hand was big enough to wrap around the side, and a split second later, he dragged it off, and your skin burned with the track it traced. Breathing became hard suddenly, and you had to turn your head to the window and focus on the outside world.

You arrived back at headquarters thirty minutes later, and the fresh air felt incredible on your flushed skin. It wasn’t even that warm in the car, but you couldn't stop thinking about the way Leon’s hand felt on your thigh. It was like he never lifted his hand at all, you could still feel the contact lingering, the way his fingers grazed your leg, the immediate warmth you felt, not only on your thigh, but in your stomach. You wished you could have taken your jacket off in the car.

Before you could get any words out, Leon said, “Come up to the office for a second. I left something up there.”

You said nothing, simply followed him up. The parking lot was nearly deserted, save for the few officers doing a detail whom you greeted when the both of you walked in. You fiddled with the edges of the files you were still holding, not trying to look in any of them in case Leon were to reprimand you for it again. You were almost tempted to, just to see his reaction. That thought made your knees weak.

You followed him out of the elevator into the office. As expected, the lobby was empty. Leon made his way over to his desk, pulling open a file cabinet, and started sifting around. You stood there, then walked over and dropped what you were holding onto his desk. You looked around the office, it was as wide as the lobby was, and large windows spanned the walls. It was simplistic. His desk was in the middle, file cabinets behind him, multiple monitors, a few chairs in front of his desk, some  round black ottomans in front of a black leather couch to the left. There were more files open on top of one of the ottomans. 

You stalked over to it, leaned down and picked one up. It looked like what he had given you the other day–

“You must be a glutton for punishment.” You jumped slightly when Leon spoke from directly behind you and grabbed the file from your hands. You spun around. “You shouldn’t be rifling through random documents, you know.” 

You sighed, not wanting to make eye contact, but knowing not doing it would look bad. You kept your arms to your side despite wanting to cross them. His eyes were dark. You couldn't tell what type of reaction this was.

“I’m sorry. I’ll make a severe mental note of that.” He said nothing in return, simply looking down at you. The peaks of his bone structure highlighted by the distant street lamps and the glow of the moon outside the windows. It made the shadows look all that much darker. You felt a shiver crawl up your spine.

He hummed, a low, throaty sound. “My new assistant, just so nosy.” His voice was low, and you gulped, trying to blink through your emotions normally, but you knew it looked anything but. 

“Dare I say it’s in my job description.” You mirrored his low tone, mentally relieved it wasn’t as weary as you expected it to sound. You tilted your head up to his, as a small gesture of challenge.

He nodded his head, as if to consider your words. “Dare you do.” He backed up, placed the file on his desk, then came right back to his spot in front of you. You didn’t know what to do, so you stayed still. It was most likely the better option anyway, who knows if your limbs could even move properly right now. You felt bare in this position, your cotton top feeling too warm where it overlapped with your jacket, and though your legs were on display under your skirt, they, too, were burning up. Your heart was hammering, but Leon kept talking. “What do you think about this job so far, hm? Does it live up to expectations?”

You had to take a steady breath before answering. “I think this surpasses any expectation I could have ever set.”

“Good answer.” You maintained eye contact with the man in front of you, surprising yourself with how well you were holding it. He seemed unfazed at all. He was probably reading you like a book right now. “You know, I love having new recruits start here. They’re so unaware of their surroundings. It almost makes a fun game for myself. They think they are so secretive, but after a while I can tell whatever it is they don't want anyone else to know.” You felt your breath catch in your throat. You had a feeling you knew where this was going. “I know Breanna across the lobby from you doesn’t like her desk mate despite buying her coffee three times a week.” Checks out, I can tell, too. “I know Brett does things to stay awake during his shifts that he shouldn’t be doing within a 50 foot radius of a cop.” Ouch. That’s also true, but he only told me during a hard come down. “And, I know how nervous you are to be around me, and you don’t know what to do with yourself whenever I’m in the room.”

You made no moves now. How did he know? Surely you weren’t that obvious with it. It had been one week, and yes Leon called you into his office quite a bit during those five days, but he had work to hand off to you every time. It’s not like he was doing it on purpose. 

But now, standing under his hard gaze, nowhere to go, you weren’t so sure it was accidental. 

Your jaw tightened. “How can you be so sure?” Now, you could hear the waviness in your voice. A smirk blossomed on his handsome face. 

“I can see how you look at me. Usually these things take time to figure out, but you…” He took a step closer, and you took a half step back. It’s not like you didn’t want to be close to him, but now he was donning a persona that made you shrink into yourself. You knew you liked it by the heat spreading inside. “You, dear, are like looking through a window.”

“So… you tested it out earlier?” It felt like a pathetic question, but you needed an answer for why he put his hand on your thigh earlier. Compared to this current position, that seemed so tame.

He tilted his head slightly. “I’m pretty sure I was, but… I had to make sure I was gauging the situation correctly.” He looked you up and down, your hands had made their way to clasp behind your back, still fighting the habit to cross them across your chest. Your breathing felt erratic. “I would have left it there, but I couldn’t make too much of a scene. Not yet.”

You simply stared at each other. You could tell that he knew he had the upper hand, solely because he was correct. Everything he was saying was right. Damn that detective training, nothing was getting past him. The room was sweltering now, but maybe you were the only one that felt it. 

One last burst of confidence had you muttering, “You do this to all your new assistants?”

In one swift action, he had a hand over your waist and pulled you close to him. Bodies touching, heat feeling like a fire between you, he lowered his face so it was centimeters away from yours. The glisten of his eyes were the only thing you could see, and if you weren’t running on pure adrenaline right now, you probably would have collapsed. You felt the vibrations from his chest when he spoke.

“Only the ones I intend to hang on to. And I can’t say I’ve had multiple of those.” You gulped, and when you didn't reply, he continued, “Did I gauge the situation correctly?”

“Yes,” You whispered, and his mouth was on yours. 

His kiss was intense, and you felt now like your body might give out. Your hands found their way to make contact with him, one grasping the wrist that was holding your waist and the other to the side of Leon’s face, and you felt his other hand close in on your hips.

It was like nothing you had experienced before. The kiss was hot and messy, you let his tongue in easily, and you couldn't help the small sighs that escaped whenever he leaned in to deepen the exchange. You felt his nose press into your face, your foreheads pushed together and your bodies entirely too close you felt like one entity. The hand that was caressing his face snaked to the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair, and your knees finally buckled when he gave a low growl in response to you tugging his locks. 

The kiss broke for a second as you lost balance, but he was not thrown off course. Hands still grasping your body, he found the couch that you were only a step in front of, and he lowered you on it, still connecting your lips together fiercely. Both of your hands now in his hair as your back hit the cushions, and you felt the dips next to you where he was kneeling over you. One of his hands let go of you and supported himself next to your head, but you craved the contact again.

He took your chin in his thumb and index finger and tilted your head slightly to the right, and broke the kiss, but his lips stayed on your burning skin as they traced down your jaw bone, biting into the flesh, and his tongue marked a path down your neck, and it was insanely hard to breathe. 

One of your hands found solace on his thick shoulder while he was still making work of the soft skin on your neck. The hand of his that wasn't on your chin still traced its way from your hip up to your chest, and he squeezed one of your breasts in sync with a bite to the neck. Your head pressed harder into the couch underneath you.

“Leon, please…” You gasped out, unsure if you even said it out loud, surprised you even had the energy to speak. You felt him lift his lips off of your skin a second later and his fingers moved your chin again to make you face him.

“What is it, hm? What do you need?” He dipped down to kiss you again, and you wished he would have stayed there so you wouldn't need to verbally answer him. 

“I… I don’t…” I don’t know, I need you. You barely had the breath to speak anymore, and though you knew Leon knew exactly what you were trying to say, he feigned confusion, and looked at you from under his furrowed brow. It was so obnoxious, it ignited the flame inside you even more. 

“Come on, baby, I can’t hear you.” A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, and your vision went blurry with lust. You ground your jaw and swallowed your pride. 

“I need you.” You gasped out finally, your lungs deflating. Your hand was fisting the material over his shoulder, and you noticed through your haze that he wasn’t wearing the vest anymore. When did he take it off? Before you came up to the office? While you had your back turned? It didn’t matter, it was now one less thing you needed to rip off of him. 

“Is that so?” He went back to biting at your neck, and at this rate you didn’t care what state he was going to leave it in. You whined at his lack of response to your plea, feeling frustration and desire bounding up inside of you, needing an outlet to release it.

“Leon, fuck, please…” You weakly tried to push him back but he wouldn’t budge. He reconnected your lips again, and that you greatly accepted, pulling him closer now so he would continue kissing you with fervor. The hand that was on your chin finally left, and he replaced it on your wrist, and suddenly, he was hauling you up.

He pulled back from the kiss just as quickly as he was pulling you to sit upright, and he swiftly maneuvered you so that when he fell backwards to sit on the couch, you were pulled right on top of him, straddling his thick thighs. You couldn’t even imagine how you looked right now, it was out of your mind for now as you looked down at the man under you, his hands on your waist. His shirt was wrinkled and slowly being pulled out from where it was tucked into his pants. His tie was being loosened and the top two buttons had come undone, exposing the smooth expanse of skin over his collarbones and chest. As you let your weight settle onto your legs, and his, you lowered directly onto his growing erection, and he squeezed his hands over your torso and scrunched his face. With a heavy breath, he pulled his head forward and stared at you.

“Did you think I was just going to give it to you?” His voice was gravelly, and it almost made you whimper. His hands dropped to your thighs, which were now incredibly exposed due to the position of your skirt hiking up, and Leon probably had a view of the black panties you had on. You didn’t care. Let him see. You needed him to take them off.

You shook your head. “You can’t be nice to me?” Your hands came up to his chest, it was firm and sturdy, and you were dying to see it bare. You fumbled with the buttons, and Leon had been at least gracious enough to loosen the tie and throw it over his head onto the floor. 

Leon laughed. You felt it under your palms. “Darling,” You looked up to make eye contact with him at the mention of the pet name. “This is me being nice to you.” 

You barely had time to register his words, and the way it made your stomach turn before he had a hand on the back of your neck, pulling you forward to another intense kiss. You could barely breathe, your limbs were all pins and needles and your skin was alight with a burning ember, fueled only by Leon, but you loved it.

In the midst of the kiss, wet and slick and tongue heavy, your hands were needlessly prying the buttons open at the top of Leon’s shirt. His hands were traveling under your clothes, palms gripping your thighs, and you found yourself grinding down into Leon’s lap subconsciously, but kept going when it resulted in him groaning into the kiss.

You pulled back suddenly at the victory of pulling the last few buttons open, and Leon immediately caught your stare, but you dropped it to look down at the open expanse of skin and muscle that he had been hiding. A strong chest gave way to flexing ab muscles as he writhed under you, probably trying to gain your attention or to show off, and sturdy hip muscles abducted into V lines that disappeared under the waistline of his pants. You couldn’t help it, you reached out to drag your hands along the smooth skin, every second of contact adding to the pooling happening between your legs, where you were also very conscious of the fact that Leon’s hands were dangerously close to. 

“Do you want this to happen today, or do you want to keep staring?” Leon prodded at you jokingly, and when you looked up, a grin was plastered on his face, and his eyes were still dark. You felt the tightness arise again at just the sight of his expression paired with his upper body on display for you.

“You’re sounding more eager than me, now…” You breathily replied, overwhelmed with all of the emotions coursing you at once. 

Leon breathed a brief laugh before raising an eyebrow with his response. “I can show you eager.”

At once, his hand reached up in between your legs and you felt one of his fingers dance across the hem of your panties, and your grip tightened where your hand landed on his bicep. He gave you no warning when you felt him pull it aside, drag his finger downwards and raked his knuckle through your wetness, earning a sharp gasp from you in return, and you nearly fell forward onto his chest as the feeling sent sparks soaring through you. 

“Calling me eager…” The sound of his voice paired with the feeling of his fingers on you was far too much to handle. “Yet it feels like you must have been wet all night…” He dragged his finger back up to the top where he maneuvered his hand so the pad of his thumb pressed heavily on your clit, and you nearly screamed, but all sound was trapped in your throat as you lost function of your body.

He ripped his hand out of your underwear and it moved around to find the zipper in the back of your skirt. “Take that shirt off,” He ordered, and you obeyed as best you could through your stiff limbs. 

You peeled it off from the bottom, feeling the fabric stick to your moist skin, and Leon’s eyes heavy on you as you finally got it over your head and on the floor. Your lingerie choice was nothing phenomenal, for the expected business meeting at least, but you could tell by his gaze that it really didn't make a difference in what he was thinking right now. Seconds after you dropped your hands back to your sides, he flipped you once again, back on the couch and him hovering over you, pulling the skirt that he had unzipped down your legs, and into the pile of your shirt and his tie somewhere behind you.

Your breathing was erratic as you watched him intently, his lust-filled eyes on your body and his hand running lengths up and down your torso, legs, back up to your chest, and neck, and landing on your bra strap that he pulled down, and wasted no time in attaching his mouth your hot skin. Your hand gripped his elbow as he bit the tender flesh of your breast, he sucked on it harshly once, twice, before lifting and wrapping his lips over your nipple, which had your back arching and a string of soft moans pouring out. 

You felt an aching cramp in your core, the pleasure was insurmountable and you needed him to do something about it, but you knew he was buying time to rile you up as much as possible before doing so. You knew he was straining with his own pleasure and you were desperate to tear apart his belt and pants and take his girth into your hands, to feel it, to taste it, you wanted to choke on it, but you knew he wouldn’t let you do that. If not in the span of a few minutes, maybe not tonight at all. You were submitting your control, and you had to let him do what he wanted.

He finally let go of your nipple, and the air felt cold with the layer of saliva he left behind, and even though you were basically naked save for undergarments, you still felt too covered. You reached up to pull at Leon’s shirt, fully unbuttoned and untucked, and he leaned back on his knees to pry it off of himself. You could see his skin glistening with sweat as he moved, and so badly you wanted to reach out and touch him, run your hands over his skin, all of his muscles, pull him close so you could feel his chest on your own. 

Your eyes fell to his pants, and the tent that was present had your mouth watering, you needed him to pull it out, and now. 

Of course, Leon being ever so sharp, didn’t miss this. “We’ll get there. Don’t worry.” Without looking up, you could hear the cockiness in his voice, but you didn’t care anymore, you couldn't move your eyes from where they landed, trying to imagine his cock in its glory, how long and thick, how he would use it and how it would feel. You felt like you were melting.

Unmoving from where he was propped up in front of you, his hands traveled down the expanse of your legs, dragging his fingers underneath your thighs where it was sensitive, making you jump with the contact. His hands came around to the top of your knees, where he pushed your legs apart and lowered himself in between them. Even just the sight of him doing so had you whimpering, and when he pressed his thumb into your clothed clit, you bucked up, but he was quick to hold you down.

Keeping his thumb centered on your clit, he continued to apply pressure, using his middle and index finger to stroke up and down on the outside of your panties, which you were sure were soaked by now. Throwing your head back into the couch, one hand gripping onto the wrist that was holding Leon up and the other was clawing into the cushion, you were dying for him to do something. 

He was getting too used to teasing you now. He had you right where he wanted, half naked on the couch in his office after hours, so close to practically coming untouched at this point, and while you wanted to fight him on this, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. The mixture of the pleasure and mental ecstasy you were feeling had you forfeiting any sense of control now, and you just watched him, as he watched you.

All at once, you felt the cold air hit your core as your underwear was peeled away from you, but the sensation didn't last long as a hot, wet tongue was pressed into your heat, and you nearly screamed at the sudden contact.

His mouth was all you could focus on in that moment, you could feel every movement his tongue made, and your body reacted viscerally to it. Your hand flew out and grabbed onto Leon’s hair, which incited him to only keep going, and to be ruthless. His hands were digging into your thighs where he was spreading them apart, fighting against you wanting to close them in reaction to pleasure he was sending shooting through your body. 

One long, painfully slow lick from top to bottom ended at your clit where he latched on, tongue pressing in and teeth gently making an appearance, and your grip in his hair became even stronger when he pushed two fingers into you, your vision going blurry, and there was no filter left to stop any thoughts from pouring out over your lips. 

“Oh my god… Leon…” You were whining now, moaning in between deep breaths and gasps, feeling his fingers pump in and out all while his tongue was relentless on you. 

His mouth disappeared but his thumb took its place, and you felt him kissing, licking, sucking his way up your torso, chest, neck, until he was seated next to your ears, groaning into them as you dug your nails into his skin.

“Oh my god, what, huh? You like the way I make you feel?” All you could do was gasp out a ‘yes’ in response to his question, he wasn’t giving you any liberty to be coherent. “You probably thought about this all day…” A bite below your ear followed the sentence. “That pussy was so wet… you probably wanted this since the first day…”

And you did. How could you not have thought about this at the sight of your insanely attractive boss? Wouldn’t it be so hot to be banging your model-status boss, having to hide it from your coworkers, going in his office to sneak touches while no one outside those doors knew? Yes, of course you thought about it. It had your heart racing, and now you would stop at nothing to make those fantasies real.

“You feel so good, I can’t wait to be inside you.” With one last soft bite to the jaw, he pulled his fingers out of you, and involuntarily you whimpered, but he shut you up by pressing a kiss into your lips, which you greatly accepted. His kiss was harsh yet soft at the same time, you felt a passion behind it while also letting his tongue sweep over yours, tasting yourself on him, sighing into it, feeling like you could kiss him forever.

His hands left you, now feeling bare, you gripped his shoulders hard as you heard him undoing his own belt. As much as you wanted to do it yourself and be right in front when you pulled his hard cock out of his pants, you didn’t have it in you to attempt to move yourself, and with Leon on top of you, he was sure to stop any feeble move you made to do so.

HIs lips left yours once more and reattached to the side of your throat, biting down harder than before, but it only made you moan, arch harder into him, and sent a flurry of hot tingles into your pussy, aching for more action from him.

Leon pushed himself off of you, his warm mouth off of you and leaned back, staring at you panting, and of course, his dick in his hands was impossible to ignore. Just seeing it was almost bliss, and now you were desperate for him to use it as you lay there, being scrutinized under your boss’ gaze, and while you felt so tiny, just the sight of how hard he was made you feel so powerful.

He took a deep breath in, taking in the sight of you, before lowering himself again, lining up with your gaze so you looked him directly in the eye. You felt his forehead press into yours, his hand lingered around your underwear again, pushing it aside, and after just another moment of silence, another deep kiss, his bare chest met yours and you felt the tip of his dick push into you, past the entrance, into the warmth. 

You sighed so loud, followed by a moan, hands still gripping his shoulders, listening to him groan in tandem with you as he slowly bottomed out. His pelvis pushed against you, your legs coming up to wrap around him, and you felt his hands pull your bra down so he could cup your breast, his thumb rolling over your nipple, adding to the pleasure. 

“You feel so fucking good… Fuck…” He was groaning, he hadn’t even started moving yet, and you were dying for him to start. He sat still in you, lapping at the skin between your jaw and neck, positive he could feel the vibrations on his lips of your moans.

“Please, Leon, move… Please,” Your nails were surely digging red streaks into the skin of his back by now, but he barely even seemed to notice, rather, you thought he might have loved the feeling of it instead. You felt the pressure of him lying on top of you, paired with the pressure building in between your legs, your thighs beginning to shake, having to hold onto Leon tighter to steady them.

Finally, he slowly started to pull out, and you could barely breathe at the sensation it left behind. He kept his face buried in your neck, you could feel his ragged, heavy breathing and you could hear his groaning which was only making you wetter. 

His hips snapped forward, no regard to what pace you had wanted to set, not like it mattered, you probably would have told him quick and rough anyway if he asked. You almost screamed out at the feeling of him slamming into you, you could only throw your head back onto the couch cushion and rake your hands over his skin, into his hair. Leon licked a long stripe up your neck to your jaw, gently biting on your bottom lip before kissing you again. 

You kept kissing him hard in between his thrusts, with him pulling away for only a second at a time, both of you breathing hard, your hands traveling down to grip his biceps, and you could feel them flexing with his movement. 

“Shit,” He said over you, you could feel his breath on your lips. “So fucking tight,” One of his hands went down to grab onto one of your legs that you had thrown over him. “So fucking good.” He practically growled as he continued the assault on you, his hips showing no mercy, and his hand sure to leave a bruise on your thigh from his grip.

Leon pushed himself up, still inside of you, leaving you lying down. His skin was slick with his sweat, and maybe yours as well from being pressed against you. His hair was falling down over his forehead, and god he looked so good right now, if you weren’t already in the act of getting the shit fucked out of you, you would want to fuck him all over again. His hands adjusted their position to rest on your hips, pulling you up so he can fuck you from his kneeling position.

This new angle was hitting every spot perfectly, allowing him to go deeper than he was from just above you. The intense stretch his cock was delivering paired with the way he was holding onto your hips with such ferocity, all of it together was too much, and you were becoming unwound. 

“Leon… Leon, fuck…” You gasped out, barely able to finish your sentence, but Leon understood well enough. He slowed his pace only a beat, but it was enough to have you straining, desperate for him to go faster to allow you to finish. He kept up with the slower pace, watching you as you whined under him, begging him to go faster.

“Please, Leon…” You looked up at him through half lidded eyes, barely able to keep them open. Through them, you could see him looking at you, brows furrowed in exertion, mouth open, chest rising and falling with rapid breathing.

“Please what?” Leon growled. You whined again, knowing he wasn’t going to make this easy for you. “Say it.”

You couldn’t breathe, but you had to give him what he wanted so he could give you what you wanted. “Leon, please, I’m going to cum… please…” 

He leaned in again, still holding your hips up, his pace even slower now, and you could feel the heat bundling up, bringing tears to your eyes at the lack of relief. His face was inches away from yours. “Please, what?” 

You choked out a sob, mixed with a groan at the slightest movement he made inside of you. “Please let me cum Leon, please,” You had no voice at this point, the words coming out in a whisper, loud enough for him to hear, but he probably would have anyway. 

“That’s right.” He backed up now, and resumed his previous position. “Good girls get what they want when they ask.” Your eyes closed in bliss when he picked up his pace, the weight of his words hanging heavy in your head, adding to the ecstasy he was giving you right now. He was slamming into you again, steadying himself on your hips while also pulling them forward to meet his thrusts. You had no breath left to spare on words anymore, and fruitless moans spilled from your lips focusing the energy on bringing your orgasm to close. 

You tried to call out his name as best as you could, but all you heard were moans as the heat inside you came to a roaring burst, and you felt your legs tighten around Leon, his grip steadying you, your hands clawing at the cushion, at his wrists where they held onto you. 

Your heartbeat was crazy at this point, and you couldn't even hold your eyes open as you rode out your orgasm, his hands smoothing over your skin, and you used the sensation to come back to reality. He had momentarily stilled his movements again, and you felt his lips on your neck, none of the roughness there now. You rolled your head over to the side to face him, and when you did he attached his lips to yours, a passionate kiss, his hands feeling like heaven on your body. 

You pulled away and stared at him for a moment. His eyes were soft, but his face was still contorted in concentration.

“I hope you don’t think we’re done here, darling.” You breathed out a sigh, collecting yourself, a smile creeping onto your face.

You kissed him, and whispered into his lips, “Show me what you got left, then.”

[folklorefairyy]

of glasses and grins - s.h

summary - in which steve really needs glasses but has a lifetime of insecurities that has him hiding them. lucky for him, his girlfriend knows just how to make him smile.

warnings - mentions of violence (punches), mentions of bullying (taunts/nicknames from other kids), insecurities, fem!reader, kissing and general relationship touching (nothing sexual), reader sits on steve’s lap

word count - 1.4k

authors note - this is inspired by a request from the lovely vic <3 which you can find here!

i know there’s a lot of headcanons about steve needing glasses due to his head injuries and that inspired his need to wear them more here! i remember seeing this months and months ago so if anyone knows any specific people that was big on that, i’d love to give credit!!

Steve Harrington had taken one too many blows to the head. On the receiving end of fists far too often it’s safe to say his body had felt their toll. His eyesight wasn't the best to begin with, having reading glasses in middle school. After receiving enough ‘geek’ or ‘four-eyes’ jokes he eventually put them to rest in the back of the drawer of his bedside table.

As ‘King Steve’ he ignored his need to squint when chatting in the back of class, or the migraine’s he’d endure, because he’d finally built an image he didn't want to tarnish. His reputation was fragile, and he'd much rather take a physical blow than one to his ego. Until he started getting hit, a lot, and suddenly the incessant migraines became more than a dull ache and the blurinnes was more than a smudge.

You had started dating Steve after highschool, not aware of past comments or cohorts, nor the journey that has led to your boyfriend constantly rubbing his eyes and having a few close calls with rogue tree branches when driving.

It was one movie night, snuggled on the sofa with your legs scrunched onto his lap, his strong arm pressing into your back and thumb smoothing over the exposed skin of your shoulder, that you finally voiced your concerns.

For the past half hour Steve had been watching the movie through one half-closed eye, trying desperately to get it to focus. Everytime you peered up at his face he simply looked down at you and winked, or stuck his tongue out, or did practically any adorably dorky facial expression you could name in order to distract you.

Raising your hand to thumb at his cheek, you whisper a ‘Baby,’ receiving a hum from him as he turns his attention to you. Steve thinks he could hear just about every pet name fall from your lips and never get enough of it; his heart feeling warm at the thought of being your anything.

‘Are your eyes bugging you?’ you prod softly. He shuts them with a sigh, head leaning into your palm which has spread across his cheek. He half-heartedly shakes his head no, more of a tilt than anything. Prompting again you plead, ‘Stevie, please don’t lie to me.’ Your voice is filled with such sweetness he feels guilty for all of his hiding, wondering how he could ever deny the honey in your voice.

‘A little,’ he finally confesses, voice more a whisper of breath than an actual sound. He feels a little silly, keeping his eyes shut to avoid his truth - that his eyes have been bugging him long before you got together. ‘They always hurt to be honest, usually just ignore it.’

His confession tugs at your heart, your sweet boy hiding a pain you can’t magically fix with the kisses and soft words you’d usually resort to.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ you ask feeling slightly wounded, like you’ve failed as a girlfriend for not knowing sooner. You move your thumb back and forth on his cheek, reassuring him you weren’t mad but concerned.

He peers up at you through heavy eyes, lips pulled between teeth in an anxious tell. ‘I knew you’d make me wear my glasses if I told you about them.’

You tut softly and lean to kiss between his brows, ‘Oh honey, what’s wrong with your glasses?’ The revelation shocked you momentarily, the prospect of your boyfriend in glasses a welcome image but an unexpected one.

He looks away from you again, old taunts swimming in his head. ‘I’d look stupid,’ he mutters. ‘You’d find me ugly or weird and wouldn’t want me anymore.’

You could sob at the confession, firstly for the inaccuracy but secondly because you can’t believe he’s been harbouring such insecurities. Moving to grasp his face in both hands you press a kiss to his lips this time, so sweet love itself bloomed between them. ‘Honey, if you need them to see you need them.’ Another meeting of lips to reassure him. ‘Plus I think you’d look handsome in just about any get-up.’ you whispered against his lips, brushing them with a soft smile.

The comment almost pulls Steve’s mouth into a smile of his own, but his past tugs them back down. ‘That’s real sweet baby, but no one else thought so and I wouldn't blame you either.’

At this point your desperation to have Steve rid himself of such thoughts takes over and you don’t think before you’re imbing onto his lap and squishing him to the sofa, face to face, chest to chest, trying very hard to make your point, as though the physical contact would make your opinion replace the one in his brain.

Eyes staring into his, but with an incredible softness that he always elicits, you try your best to convince him otherwise. ‘Firstly, Steve Harrington, glasses are a completely normal thing to have and so many people wear them. Whoever taught you otherwise can go suck it, and I’m sorry they made you uncomfortable wearing them.’

Your sudden brashness and the random full naming of him had his heart feeling a little lighter. You, however, were not done. ‘And secondly, my boyfriend is beautiful, and I know damn straight he is going to look so pretty in his glasses. If the mental images I’m seeing are anywhere near the real deal then I’m in trouble.’ A kiss to the freckles on his nose, your silent sign of ‘I love you.’ ‘I’m gonna have to fight off a lot of people when they get a look at you, trust me.’

At this he lets out a low chuckle, lips finally pulling into that grin you so love, the urge to kiss it only slightly overpowered by your pride in removing some of his sadness.

He leans up slowly and kisses your nose back, the smile still painting his lips as he pulls away. ‘Wow, sweetheart, you really do love me huh? Thinking I’d be wooing everyone and wanting to fight for me?’

Hands smoothing his hair back, you move nose to nose, their tips kissing, and whisper upon his growing grin, ‘Oh handsome, I’d go to war for you.’

At your confession, he pulls your body down to lay on the sofa, arms wrapping around your waist, and presses his weight into you, peppering kisses into your hair and your cheeks, until he finally reaches your lips. You’re both giggling, giddy with love and a connection between you that can't be described but only felt, for it’s uniquely yours.

He looks like an angel above you, hair curtaining his face, the halo of light from the lamp illuminating him in a honeyed glow. Hand returning to his cheek, it’s favourite spot to be, you press another kiss to his lips. ‘Can you please go get your glasses? I want to work out how many people I’ve got to plan on fighting.’

He presses another kiss back, ‘Oh my tough girl, how could I ever leave you unprepared.’ Steve pulls himself off you, not without reluctance and another peck, before running upstairs to venture in the spot of his drawer he always thought he’d leave untouched, trying to wish the taunts away but never quite succeeding.

As he crept back down the stairs that anxiety of being judged bloomed in his chest and he faltered on the last step. But then he spots the back of your head, perched on the sofa so patiently, knee bobbing up and down as your enthusiasm seeped through, and he knows, that you are the one person who could see past the glasses, who would love him regardless, and so he took the final step.

The creaking of the staircase grabs your attention as your eager head whips round so fast Steve swears you’ve given yourself whiplash. The biggest smile blooming on your face at the sight of Steve, a nervous smile on his own, decorated so beautifully with a pair of wide-lensed, silver glasses.

You rush from your seat, too gleeful to wait for him to come to you. Hands to face once again, cocooning it in that warm cage he so loved, you dote a hundred kisses to his cheeks, give or take, before leaning back to whisper softly, ‘Oh my beautiful boy, I am going to have to work on my punches.’

Steve let out a loud laugh, fresh with adoration, and pressed what was not to be the last kiss that evening to your lips. You were just so precious, true sweetness in your intentions. He may have thought he’d never wear them again, but he now thinks he won’t ever take them off, just to see that spark in your eyes reflected in the glass of his once hated frames.

[crushedsweets]

How would the other pastas/proxies react if Toby died during a mission?

Writing on my phone in the car 10 mins before my shift forgive me… finished during my lunch break…

Tim would try really really fucking hard to pretend he doesn’t care all that much. He’s already lost plenty of friends/colleagues (directly or indirectly) to the operator and slenderman, and he always treated Toby like he was a pain in the ass, but like. Him and Brian took Toby in when he was just 17-18, he tried to make him a better man, the two of them have done abhorrent shit together and had to return to the cabin like nothing happened. He’d cry, spend long hours thinking about Toby, thinking about how much of a dick he was to the kid. But he’s strong . Kinda

Brian wouldn’t try to pretend he doesn’t care, although he is in a very similar boat to Tim. Took him in, guided him, hurt him - he would probably be the one to set up a grave of some sort for Toby, whether or not they even have his body to bury. The rest of them wouldn’t be able to do it

It’s possible that Kate wouldn’t even find out for a long fucking while. But she would cry, and mourn, and she would start going back to the cabin and she would sleep in the attic (Toby’s room) and it would be shitty. Toby was the only proxy to treat her like a person and they were both outcasts in their own right, both being the closest to perfect vessels slenderman/the operator could get . So it would suck ass.

I think Natalie would just die too. Ok not really but he was the first person to really just. Take care of her. And she really trusted that he would never ever leave her, not like everyone else . She would be angry, pissed beyond belief and she would cry and scream and throw around any of the gifts he’s ever gotten her and smash some shit he’s made her - and it wouldn’t be fair, and she would regret it, and hopefully someone would be there to pull her back before she legitimately fucks it all up, but she can’t get rid of that anger. Like Kate, she would go to the cabin. Being there too long gets her really bad slender sickness, she’s not immune like the others, but she doesn’t really care. Everything hurt so bad anyway, the screaming and crying already brought her nausea and migraines. Her and Kate would just silently lounge around his bedroom for hours everyday. Natalie is a tattoo artist with little to no tattoos bc commitment issues is a big thing for her, but she would get a little something to honor Toby

Jack would mourn . Toby used to bring flowers to his mom for Mother’s Day, because Jack couldn’t bare to be in a 10 mile radius of his family. He would try to host something for people, just invite them over and make some food and try to talk and have comfort. Only Natalie and Nina would come by choice, not because the rest don’t care but it’s just something they can’t handle to do. Kate might get dragged along. It would be painful and uncomfortable and probably just result in an argument of sorts, depending on how far along Natalie is in the grieving process . He would visit the grave Brian made for toby quite often.

Nina would be constantly crying, all the time. She’s had shitty men after shitty men in her life, the only good guys she’s had were her father and brother and she went ahead and left them behind to go seek out Jeff - but Toby was good(to a point, obviously). He was rough around the edges but he was protective, he took care of her, he defended her even if she didn’t deserve it. She and Natalie would probably have a few intense arguments because they’re two sides of the same coin in their grieving , with Natalie having constant explosive anger and Nina having long, drawn out grieving and sobbing. It would be a bit much for both of them. She would mope around her apartment for a long while.

BEN would also be pretty sad, but not nearly as much as the rest. He would talk it out with Jeff but wouldn’t cry, wouldn’t mourn , would just keep going. Jeff wouldn’t give a shit, would say it was bound to happen and to move on

Ann and Lulu would be pretty bummed out too, but Ann moves on pretty quickly. For Ann it’s more so a sad “Aw but he was fun”… lulu is too lost in her own head to spend too much time on it, but she’s undeniably sad when she’s reminded

Sally would also be sad, but similarly to BEN, she would move on. Cry to Jane about it and cope. Jane would think it’s sad, but she wouldn’t dwell on it either - she wasn’t close to him, she only knew him in passing whenever Sally got lost in the forest.

Liu doesn’t know Toby well so he wouldn’t think much, but Nina would cry to Liu about it a lot and it would be pretty depressing for him too. Just by watching how it affects Nina

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

I found this blog through a reblog and decided I’d poll Tumblr whether I’m the asshole. And the reason I’m concerned is because my mother (53 f) doesn’t think I’m the asshole, and that’s a bit of a red flag.

My sister (22 f) was home from college for break. She was to be traveling out of state to visit her boyfriend (23 m). Meaning, she was going to be flying in the continental US. As such, she needed a 1 qt, clear, plastic bag for her travel liquids. My family has several durable and clear plastic bags (as opposed to ziplocks) for this very purpose.

But rather than use one of these empty bags, she emptied my care bag.

This bag is fairly small. It usually holds my acne medication, including topical creams, tablets, prescribed moisturizer, etc… in travel sizes for me to take with me to work. I also include my migraine meds and lactose pills in this bag, among other things. And it fits perfectly within my backpack’s side pocket (which is why I bought it).

I noticed immediately that she had taken it as she had just dumped the contents all over my bathroom counter. So, I called her and told her that she needed to return it to me (at the time, she was only an hour away and her flight wasn’t for another week). She tried to play it off at first. “What bag?” Then she tried to reason that it wasn’t a big deal. Then she told me she didn’t want to make her bf drive an hour to return the bag to me as it’d put them an hour back in their drive, so I should just let it go.

And the reasonable part of me thinks… maybe I should? Maybe I should just go out and buy a new bag? Like… it’s annoying that she took it without asking and dumped everything out of it. It’s annoying that the bag doesn’t even meet TSA requirements as she claimed (it’s black and not completely clear). It’s annoying that I had asked her if she needed me to get her anything up for her night before and that rather than ask for help, she took something. And it’s annoying that she didn’t use the clear bags provided to her by our mother.

But the thing is… it’s not just the bag. This happens with all my stuff. It got so bad when I was a teen that my father put locks on all my drawers and doors that only I had keys to (my parents did have a spare set in the event I lost mine that they— ironically— “lost”).

EX: I have a pair of Levi jeans that I bought with a gift card from my grandparents. Levi’s are— well— expensive. Earlier last year, before she went back to school after break, I noticed they were missing. I called her and told her I was angry about this. She insisted I was “insane” and that she would never take them and that I likely misplaced them or lost them (I do have memory problems, combo of ADHD and whatever causes my migraines). My father helped me look for them. He even looked through her stuff. They *were not* in the house. But 5 months later after she came home from college, I found them under my bed (they were not previously under my bed). “See, I told you that you lost them.”

So, I told her that she needed to find a way to return the bag to me and that under no circumstances was she allowed to leave the state with it (if she did, there wasn’t much I would’ve or could’ve done about it, so I was hoping this ultimatum would work). And I said that if she didn’t return it, I would tell our mom about all the unused, unopened pregnancy tests she was stocking and hiding in her room (found when I went looking for spoons as she hides my mother’s spoons after using them). She told me “You’re insane. It’s just a bag,” but she did mail it back to me and I got it in time for work that Monday.

My mother says I was justified in demanding it back (she doesn’t know about the unused tests), but she is often petty and demanding and blows up or snaps at the smallest things. So, I am concerned that I made a big deal of nothing or that I took it too far.

AITAH? ESH?

What are these acronyms?

[strawberryspence]

this is PLATONIC. love can be platonic. and that’s what this is. if i see anything non-platonic stobin tagged in my rbs, i will delete this.

this is inspired of that quote from dolly alderton, “nearly everything i’ve known about love i’ve learned in my long time friendships with women.” i said the word love so many times, it’s not real anymore.

anw, happy stobin month. their friendship means so much to me. so here’s something sappy.🍦

-

“What is love?” El asks him, with that bright eye curiosity that makes her— that makes her the best of them all in more ways than one.

Steve blinks at her, dropping the whisk he’s holding and thinks.

What is love?

It’s easy.

Steve smiles to himself as he thinks of a time where he would have floundered for an answer, searched for it in the empty corners of his heart and home, in the unblinking red light on the voice machine; waiting for something, anything.

Nearly everything Steve Harrington knows about love he has learned from Robin Buckley.

First, Steve learns how to fall in love with the most unlikely person in the crowd. Robin was, and will always be a better person than him. From her, he learns how to fall in love, admit it, and accept the fact that it won’t always get reciprocated. That’s okay, because in exchange of that rejection, would be something better than he could ever imagine.

Love is a friend. A real friend.

Second, Steve learns that love— is love. It isn’t something meant to be put into a box, it isn’t just one thing. It’s not just girls for boys, or boys for girls. It’s for everyone, it’s for anything your heart wants.

And when he finally came to the realization that he didn’t fit that box too, Robin held him for hours. Assured him that it’s okay, that if that’s who he is, she will still love him because of it, never despite it.

Love is being true to yourself. It’s freedom while being held by your person.

Third, Steve learns that love can be quiet. It’s not always hiding under the covers as your parents fight from across the room, it’s not loud pounding music as the love of your life tells you that you’re bullshit.

It can be found in quiet afternoons, while reading a book with your best friend. It can be found in quiet evenings, as you both try to paint in silence. It was sitting, in a field behind a stolen RV, making molotovs in silence, both terrified they’d be dead tomorrow. It can be found in the middle of the night, after a terrifying, too real nightmare, just bundled together holding each other's hand.

Love is quiet. It’s peaceful and content, even when its hard.

Fourth, Steve learns that love— the real one— doesn’t have an expiration date. He once thought that it’s always been like that, that for him it’s always been meant to be like that. There is an end date. That one day day everyone he loves will realize what he truly is… bullshit. Like when his parents started to learn that he was too much, and too little of what they want and needed, they started leaving more often or when Nancy realized she deserved someone better, it’s over.

Maybe, he’s still waiting for the day when Robin finally realizes that she’s so much better than him, that she could find someone better, that Steve can’t really be her platonic soulmate. Because soulmates— God— they’re two halves of one whole. But how could he ever live up to that? He doesn’t think he could ever, not when Robin’s got all the good parts when they were split into half.

But there’s an unspoken trust. A tiny voice in Steve’s head that tells him, above all the noise and self loathing, a voice that sounds so similar to Robin’s says, “Robin won’t do that to you. Not ever.”

He holds onto that voice, clutches at it with shaking hands.

Love is… Love is there. And you will pray, and hope, and beg that it never leaves. But love is also trust, so you hold on with that blind faith.

Fifth, Steve learns that the best love— it’s in the in betweens.

Love is when Steve’s having the worst migraine, so Robin cleans the store for him instead. It’s when his best friend got him a brownie, because she thought he’d like it. It’s when his bestfriend brushed his hair after a rough night, even if it’s drenched in sweat and tears. It’s the scar in his thumb from when the vodka bottle broke as they made molotovs. It’s when she finally snaps and locks him and Eddie in the pantry so they can talk about their feelings. It’s her weirdly proud smile when she opens the pantry, and they’re making out like their lives depended on it.

It’s popcorn stuck in between the couch from movie nights. It’s paint stains in his favorite blue jeans from the one night they painted his room. It’s the chip on the plate when they were eating and she chipped it from laughing so hard. It’s that old post note on the fridge that says, “Got you milk, Dingus!” that he never removed.

Steve Harrington has learned of love from everyone. From Dustin, to Max, to Eddie, to the rest of the kids. Even Hopper and Joyce, from Nancy and Jonathan. In some ways, he’s learned from his parents too.

It’s all different.

But in his core. In his truest core, in his deepest soul.

It’s all from Robin Buckley.

El is still looking at him, with a fond smile, like she can see the montage playing in his head. You know what? Maybe she does see it.

“What is love?” Steve repeats her question.

El hums, nodding.

“Love is a U.S.S Butterscotch Sundae.”

El giggles at his answer as Steve winks at her.

Steve turns to the open window above the sink. There’s laughter coming from the yard, where the kids are playing in the pool. Eddie’s reading Nancy a book, as Jonathan and Argyle lounge around.

Steve meets Robin’s eyes, and she smiles at him, raises a hand to wave at him.

Steve waves back at love personified.

(In Steve’s room, there’s an old recipe book. Given to him by his Grandmother, it’s filled with different recipes, some 50 years older than him, some newer. There’s a piece of paper tucked in between the pages, with a blue and white border and a little sailor hat. It’s stained from use and dirt. It’s not old, it’s not new, it’s from two summers ago. It’s a handwritten recipe with a note at the bottom.

Harrington,

I wrote this down because you kept forgetting the freaking recipe for the USS butterscotch sundae. Keep it with you, you dingus.

Buckley.)

[headkiss]

Peter dealing with a reader who has a bad migraine and having to ask the others how to help because they’ve dealt with it before ☹️ scared of hurting her more but also scared of not being caring enough

hiii tysm for requesting!!! it’s a teeny bit different but i hope u like it all the same <33 | 0.7k of fluff

You and Peter have this unspoken agreement anytime there’s a need for partners in class. Your eyes searching for his, his already on you when you find them.

Then, you’ll go to one of your houses and start as soon as possible. It’s easy to work with him. He’s smart (like, insanely smart), kind, and you’d like to think you’re friends. It’s difficult not to get distracted by him. His soft eyes, messy hair, shy smile.

Even so, you’d rather be partners with him than anyone else.

You’re sitting at the small, round kitchen table in your apartment with him, textbooks spread out, pencils scratching against your notebooks. It’s a comfortable silence, a practiced routine that makes you not mind homework so much.

When you peek up at him, he’s bent close to his page, hair falling over his forehead. You hold your pencil tighter to stop yourself from reaching out and touching him. You look back down quickly.

As time goes on, it’s not him that distracts you so much today. Instead, it’s a pressure in your head, a pounding that’s getting louder and louder and harder to ignore. Having to look so closely at words on paper isn’t helping, and it isn’t long before you drop the pencil onto the table and rest your forehead on the cool wood of the table.

Peter notices something’s wrong. He’s always been good at that, now more than ever.

“You okay, bug?” He asks, and you think his voice is the only one you’d tolerate right now.

“Headache,” you mumble.

“You get them a lot?” Peter abandons his work, too, and leans over to brush his hand over your arm.

“Yeah, sometimes. Just give me a minute, and we can keep going.”

He shakes his head, “we’ll do it another day. What can I do to help?”

“There’s some meds in the bathroom. Behind the mirror. The blue label.”

Just like that, the warmth of his hand, of his presence, leaves you. It makes the pain a little worse, him being gone, like his touch was enough to help.

Peter worries easily, and when it comes to you, it’s only worse. He looks through the cabinet and finds what he thinks you wanted him to grab, but he feels like he should be helping more, he wants to help more.

He pulls his phone from his pocket and dials Aunt May’s number.

“Peter, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just, um, what do you do when someone has a migraine?”

“Is your head hurting? You can come home and-”

“No,” he stops her. “Not mine.”

She knows he’s with you, and though he’s never told her outright, May also knows that he likes you. A lot.It’s pretty obvious with how often he talks about you, with how his face sort of lights up when he does.

“Ohhh,” she hums in understanding. He can’t see it, but she’s smiling on her side of the phone. “I see. Turning off the lights helps, and a cool towel on the face or neck.”

“Thanks, May.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

He hangs up and hopes he didn’t keep you waiting for long. It’s just, he’s afraid that he might hurt you, that he might make things worse and that’s the last thing he’d want. So, he had to make sure he knew how to help.

You’re sitting in the same chair, but your head’s no longer resting on the table. You’re sitting up with your eyes squinted, trying to block out the light a little.

“Here, bug,” Peter says quietly, handing you the small bottle.

“Thank you, Peter. You don’t have to stay, by the way.”

“I’d like to stay. If that’s alright?”

It’s embarrassing to be seen all weak, but Peter is nothing but gentle with you. He keeps his voice quiet like he doesn’t want to irritate you. You decide you’d rather spend more time with him than not.

“Yeah, that’s okay.”

You’ve ended up on the couch, the lights off and the apartment silent besides the sounds of Peter moving about.

He comes back with a small towel in hand, sitting next to you and guiding your head onto his shoulder. Slowly, he lifts his arm to press the towel against your forehead, and he keeps it there for you.

“This okay?” He asks.

“Yeah. Feels nice.”

It could be the towel, or the meds, or it could just be him, but you feel better and better by the minute.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Request: steve having 4 rabbits (all male) as pets bc he loves them. They are super rambunctious aside from his last one which he recently adopted from a shelter. But HE SPOILS THEM??? He refers to them as his kids???? The party doesn't know what kids he is referring to until they see him with his babies. Thats all just pure flufff

First of all, title on AO3 is from Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter because Steve loved that story as a child and that was the inspiration behind most of this. Second of all, this is ridiculous and fun. It's so very unserious. I cannot stress enough how much this is just absolutely silly. As with any of the stuff I write, there's some emotions and discussions of Steve's shitty childhood, but the rest is just some hilarity between Steve, Eddie, and Robin with a guest appearance of the party. - Mickala ❤️

---------------------------------------------------------------

Steve’s parents had never bothered with a pet, had never even thought about the fact that most kids got to have a dog or a cat or a turtle when they were young.

They didn’t think about how much Steve needed a companion of some kind.

It didn’t stop him from always playing with his friends’ pets, or stopping at the pet store after work sometimes to show some love to the ferrets nobody seemed to want. He volunteered at the animal shelter when he had time, always getting too attached to the dogs coming and going.

When he moved into a house with Eddie and Robin, they all agreed he could and should get a pet, as long as they could all agree on what it was beforehand.

The problem was, he knew he didn’t have time to commit to a dog, not with how often he was working and taking the kids where they needed to go and helping Eddie with his band. He knew Robin wouldn’t admit it, but being around cats for more than a few minutes left her stuffed up and teary-eyed. He didn’t really want fish, or anything that he couldn’t hold or cuddle with. Birds were out because they were loud and on his migraine days, even the tiniest hint of sound would make him nauseous.

He’d never even considered rabbits.

But on his way home from work on his birthday of all days, he passed a truck with a cage full of bunnies in the back.

He pulled over, not thinking about what he was doing, just knowing that he wanted to hold one.

Robin, who was in one psychology course at the community college, called it healing his inner child.

Eddie, who liked to get on Robin’s nerves as frequently as possible, called it being his inner child.

Steve, who loved them both very much, thought they were maybe both right.

“Can I hold one?” Steve asked the older woman who was sitting on the tailgate of her truck.

“Sure. You have any rabbits?” she asked as she grabbed one from the cage.

“No ma’am.”

“Lovely pets. Unfortunately, we didn’t know one of ours was a male and now we have about 22 of these suckers to get rid of. You got room for one?” she watched him carefully as he held the baby rabbit to his chest.

All of the rabbits were gray except for four, which were an off-white color with speckles of brown. Steve didn’t know how genetics worked, especially not for rabbits, but he knew they were unique.

“I got room for four.”

He didn’t.

Not really.

But he would make room.

The woman only charged him for two, said he was doing her a favor by taking four anyway. She gave him a bag full of some food pellets, but told him they would probably still prefer to get lettuce and other vegetables often.

“I guess I should think of some names,” Steve said out loud on the way home. “I should probably also warn you that I didn’t talk to Robin and your other dad about this yet. But they won’t mind. I can build you guys a home in the backyard! And during the winter, you can stay in the shed.”

He had it all planned out in his mind, and nothing would ruin it.

—------------

“How many?!” Robin exclaimed.

“Rabbits?” Eddie asked, surprised, but not quite as shocked as Robin.

“It’s four males. They’re still babies, but they grow quick. They’re pretty low maintenance, and they can live outside so you won’t have to worry about allergies or noise or anything. And they can eat a lot of vegetables and some fruit so I won’t have to spend tons of money on special food.”

Eddie cupped his cheek in his palm and smiled.

“You don’t have to defend your choice to us, sweetheart. If you’re happy, I’m happy,” he kissed him on the lips quickly before pulling away and giving Robin a look that said she better agree.

“I’m happy you found pets?” Robin said, still clearly unsure about it, but giving a genuine smile.

“Okay, now names!”

It only took five minutes for Eddie to excuse himself from that conversation to start working on their enclosure.

“Steve, you cannot name a rabbit Edward.”

“There are no rules when it comes to naming rabbits. If I want to name the one who doesn’t stand still after my boyfriend, then I will!”

It went on like that for nearly an hour as Steve took turns holding each of the rabbits, keeping them close to his chest and petting them, giving them all a little kiss on the head before he put them back in the box they were temporarily in.

Eddie came in not long after they finally settled on names, giving Steve a kiss on the cheek and grabbing a glass of water.

“So? What are their names?”

Steve picked them up one by one, showing them off as he spoke.

“This one is Marty, and this one is Hobbit, and this one is Bard, and this tiny little guy is Pierre. Robin insisted on it because the speckle on his face looks like a mustache and goatee.”

“I hate to say it, Stevie, but I don’t think I’m the father,” Eddie teased as he rubbed Pierre’s head.

Steve gently pushed Eddie’s chest, but smirked at him.

“Despite your best efforts, I don’t think actual children will be biologically possible for us,” he said as he put Pierre back in the box and picked the entire thing up. “Now, show me their home!”

—----------------

Steve was a natural caregiver, had always been one even when he was alone.

Everyone knew it, everyone loved it about him.

But no one had expected him to treat his new pets as his actual children, not even Eddie.

He knitted them sweaters.

“They have fur already, Steve,” Robin said.

“But they’re so cute in them!”

Robin and Eddie shared a glance as Steve handfed them some lettuce.

—----------------

No one expected him to also come home with a fifth one right before Christmas.

He was holding it against his chest, under his jacket, whispering to it.

“Stevie? Whatcha got?”

“Don’t be mad. He was dropped off at the shelter with a few puppies and they said that they couldn’t keep him. I couldn’t-” Steve’s sharp intake of breath made Eddie drop what he was doing and get closer. “We have room or I can make room. He’ll fit right in! I think he looks like a Frodo, don’t you?”

Steve unzipped his jacket and a completely white rabbit shuffled around so it’s head was nestled further in his shirt.

“Sure, Stevie. Hi Frodo, welcome to our home. Rent’s due on the first, lettuce is available for free, and bath days are every other Saturday,” Eddie said quietly as he petted the rabbit’s back.

—---------------------

The first time the kids held the rabbits, Steve hovered like a worried parent.

“Just relax, love. They’re being careful,” Eddie whispered in his ear.

“I know. I just don’t want one to get loose and end up hurt or stuck somewhere,” Steve said, keeping his eyes on a constant rotation between all five rabbits.

“Can we feed them?” El asked with a beaming smile.

“Yeah, please!” Will said excitedly.

“Sure. But everyone only gets to pick one thing so they don’t overeat and get sick,” Steve agreed.

Eddie watched as Steve continued to hover, physically biting back comments about the way the kids were feeding them.

Eddie could sense his anxiety getting to a boiling point, knew he would probably explode in a minute if he didn’t intervene.

“Alright kids! Time for us to put the rabbits up for the night. They like to cuddle before they sleep,” Eddie said, reaching for the closest one to him, Bard.

They slowly put them all back into their enclosure, and Steve stood outside of it for a moment making sure they were all okay.

They were still a bit over excited from being out of the cage, all except Frodo, who had never been excited about anything.

“I’ll take the kids home,” Eddie said as he kissed Steve’s shoulder. “Staying out here for a bit?”

“Yeah, just until they calm down a little. Tell the kids I’ll see them tomorrow.”

Eddie nodded once and made his way back inside.

“Steve isn’t coming?” Max asked.

“Nah, he’s making sure the little ones behave. Everyone ready?”

The kids looked at each other, then back at Eddie.

“He’s making sure the rabbits behave? What are they gonna do, steal a carrot from the fridge?” Mike asked.

“Tone, Wheeler,” Eddie reprimanded. “And everyone leaves Steve alone about this, got it? He’s being his inner child.”

“Healing his inner child,” Robin said from the couch, focused on her word search.

“Right, that’s what I said,” Eddie clapped his hands. “Kids in the van or you have to scoop the rabbit poop!”

A chorus of “ew, gross!” rang out as the kids scrambled to run out the front door and to his van.

“Can you make sure he comes in in a few minutes?” Eddie asked Robin. “He doesn’t have a jacket on.”

“Are you his boyfriend or his mom?” Robin asked, still not looking up from her word search.

“I’m gonna be your problem if he gets sick from sitting out there in the cold too long.”

“Fine,” Robin rolled her eyes. “But if he makes me bottle feed Hobbit again because he ‘won’t eat the pellets and he has to eat something’ I am locking him out there to become one of them.”

“Fine.”

Eddie glanced out the window of the back door, smiling to himself as he watched Steve talking to the rabbits, like he did every night.

Whatever they called it, Eddie was just glad Steve was getting something he’d always wanted.

[nicksbestie]

can you pleaseeee write a agere reader x Johnnie Guilbert? Where they go to a party with Jake and the reader regresses and Jake and Johnnie help. LMAO this is my first time requesting something so this might not make sense 💀💀 also I liveee your fics 🖤🖤🖤

Overwhelmed - Jake and Johnnie

Summary : A night out partying causes you to freak out, but luckily your best friends are there to help.

Pairing : Johnnie Guilbert/Reader (platonic), Jake Webber/Reader (platonic)

Warnings : Mentions of partying, alcohol consumption

Word Count : 1477

A/N : This is an age regression fic, which is purely safe for work and innocent. Any hate/disrespect towards me, my work, or readers, will not be tolerated.

You loved your friends, and you loved going out with them. You couldn’t deny the fact that you and your friends were definitely in the partying scene, which just came with your jobs, and that was often what you were up to on the weekends. However, that didn’t mean that it wasn’t exhausting at times. There were many separate instances where you left parties early, having just shown up to not completely flake on people, but being too tired to stay too long. There were other nights where you were there to help drive your friends home, still enjoying your time, but not going all out. Tonight was one of those nights, where you were hanging out with your friends, but you weren’t partying hard. 

Honestly, you’d rather not be there at all tonight, being absolutely exhausted, and wanting nothing more than to just curl up in bed with a movie and comfortable pajamas, but you loved your friends and you always wanted to be there for them, and you also knew that they would need someone to potentially drive them home after the party. So, you stuck it out today just for them. You’d later joke about winning a friend of the year award for the amount of times you went somewhere you didn’t want to go just because it made them happy to have you there. You were flattered by that, honestly, but right now, you desperately wanted to go home. 

The flashing lights were beginning to grate on your nerves, and that, combined with the loud noises and the consistent strong smell of alcohol was causing you to feel the beginning of a migraine coming on. You tried to push the thoughts away, knowing that it was still quite early in the night, and that nobody wasn’t going to want to leave so early, so despite wanting to leave, you were determined to stick it out. You really didn’t want to be that friend who had to make everyone leave early, and you did not want to be known as a killjoy to anyone who didn’t understand you or weren’t as close to you as your friends. 

It wasn’t until someone dropped something on you that you began to feel like you could not handle being there anymore. Someone was carrying a bottle with something in it, probably alcohol considering the surrounding environment, and they had bumped into the counter you were leaning against, and subsequently dropped it on your foot. Trying to contain the pain in your gaze, you simply muttered an “it’s fine” to the person’s half hearted apology, ignoring the tears building in your eyes. It really hadn’t hurt you that badly, but the pain in your foot combined with the pain in your head and the general overwhelming scenario you were in made you want to just cry. 

You managed to hold it together until you got alcohol spilled down the front of your shirt, and that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. You quickly found your way to an unoccupied bathroom, sobbing over the sink at just how overwhelmed you were. You really didn’t think you could handle much more of the situation you were currently in, but checking the time and seeing that it was just barely past midnight, you knew you would have to, because your friends never went home this early, and you were not about to just leave them without a designated driver. 

Unbeknownst to you, both of your closest friends had seen the spill, and had immediately realized, based on your reaction, that it was more than just the spill that had caused you to disappear into the bathroom. Not that the spill wasn’t an excusable reason, but they had seen the look on your face, and they both knew it was more than that. Due to this fact, they were currently standing outside of the bathroom door, hesitating on whether to knock or not. They never wanted to invade your privacy, but they were seriously concerned about whether you were okay or not, and after multiple more minutes went by, they decided it was worth the possibility of annoying you to make sure that you were doing alright. They immediately knew they had made the right choice when Jake knocked on the door, and you shouted back “occupied!” 

They could hear the wobble in your voice, and they knew it was because you were crying. The three of you were best friends, after all, and they had seen and heard you crying more times than you would like to admit. They recognized the tone, and made sure that they kept their tone gentle before speaking. Jake was the first one to talk, luckily, the outside environment was loud enough that nobody else had noticed what was going on.

“Hey, it’s us. Are you okay?” 

He didn’t receive a response to that one, and it did nothing but make the two of them even more anxious, terrified of the possibilities behind the locked door. You could be physically hurt, and Johnnie tried to ask a question again after the lack of the response. 

“Can we come in?” 

Neither of them thought that they were going to receive an answer, and were more worried when the deafening silence stretched on for multiple minutes, until the lock on the door clicked, and it opened just a crack. Both of them immediately slipped behind the door, hearts nearly shattering in their chest when they saw you staring blankly into the mirror, tear stained face obvious, eyes red. As soon as you noticed that they were staring back at you, you immediately moved to wipe the tears with tissues, putting on a fake smile and turning around to look at them.  Jake was once again the first to speak, always good at knowing exactly what to say, but this time, it was just a question. 

“What happened?”

You sighed, trying not to let more tears come out as you relayed the events of the night leading up to this point. 

“I’m exhausted, my head hurts from the noise and the smell and the lights, and then someone spilled a drink down my shirt and I really just could not take it anymore.”

Johnnie immediately wrapped you in a hug, sad at the way he could feel your shoulders shaking from sobs.

“We’re going home.” 

Both of them hadn’t drank much, only one or two, and it had been an hour or so since they had. They were perfectly alert to drive, and due to this, they were fine with leaving. It wasn’t until you didn’t really respond that they realized something had changed. Johnnie gave Jake a specific look, gesturing to the fact that you hadn’t pulled out of his hug, something you would’ve normally done by now. Jake turned around from opening the door, catching Johnnie’s eyes and gently shutting the door again. 

“Babe, can you look at me?” 

None of you were in any romantic relationship with any other one, but pet names were common in your friendship. Slowly looking up at Jake, you could tell that he immediately realized what was happening. The emotional turmoil that you’d gone through during the night, and then the crying and the hug, had pushed you right into your headspace, which explained why you stayed clinging to Johnnie instead of letting go in your average time. Jake’s gaze immediately softened, and Johnnie’s arms tightened a little bit around you, protective as always. 

“Hi, honey! It’s okay, darling, we’re gonna go home, okay?” 

He didn’t receive much in response except for a tentative nod, but that was normal for you. When upset, you were a very quiet little, unless you were crying, and both of them knew that. Johnnie made sure to keep an arm protectively wrapped around your shoulder as you made your way to the car, Jake saying goodbye to everyone for you. Jake had agreed to drive, knowing that you weren’t likely to let go of Johnnie anytime soon. He sat in the back with you while Jake drove you all home, making sure to be quick but extra careful. 

These were your most trusted people, the only people you would let see you in such a vulnerable state, and something in your subconscious mind knew you had picked the best people to trust with such information when they immediately jumped into action, helping you change into fresh clothes and getting you something to eat and drink, before curling up with you on the couch, a part of your usual routine when you were home and regressed. They turned on a simple movie for you, keeping you wrapped up in their arms for the rest of the evening, and gently helping you into bed when you had fallen asleep. Overall, your night had ended well.

~ taglist : @jake-and-johnnies-slut @gvf23 @elliem505 @ilydeaky @maryx2xx @oobleoob @aemrsy @blahbel668

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[izukuwus]

Boiling Point 1: Rabbit Season - Miguel O'Hara/Reader (NSFW)

Next - M.list - Ao3

A/N: hi I'm very normal about miguel o'hara. come be normal with me.

Summary: You are determined to put an end to the onslaught of your toy collection. In your quest, you set out to re-train yourself into some discipline.

Warnings: smut, vibrator use, masturbation. reader is afab and a sub.

Word count: ~3000 words

You are really starting to hate Miguel O'Hara.

Oh, sure, you’d follow him to the ends of every earth, Earth-47 notwithstanding—fuck Earth-47 and its migraine-inducing everything—and you will never thank him enough for everything he’s done, for you and all the other dimensions saved by him, directly or otherwise. He’s brilliant, he’s a genius, he’s easy on the eyes, his leadership is instrumental to holding together All of Everything, all that which you can comprehend and conceive, all that which you cannot. He does not always have all the information, but you trust him to do as much good as he can with the information he has. He is fundamentally good to a fault, and while he can be abrasive at times—perhaps more often than not—we can’t all be winners all the time.

No, your issue with him has nothing to do with any of that.

Your head is more than a little fuzzy right now, given your current circumstances, so I’ll be nice and put this in a way you can understand:

Miguel O'Hara keeps breaking your fucking sex toys.

Like I said, he’s easy on the eyes. Maybe too easy. Maybe, more than once, you’ve fought at his side and had an entirely separate fight in your head just to keep your mind on the matter at hand. Maybe, one time too many, you’ve seen his fangs flash during a flare of the temper or a slip of his guard and not quite forgotten the sight. Maybe you’ll need to be lobotomized if you want to forget that time you’d gone on a mission with him and he’d leapt directly at you, claws out, fangs bared, eyes vermilion, to tackle you out of the way of some particularly dangerous debris and stayed on top of you for a full eternity after that to make sure you were okay.

If that final image was the one seared behind your eyes as you sighed and pressed your vibe into yourself this fine afternoon, that’s between you and no one. And, in fact, it wasn’t, because you are never admitting to getting off to the general thought of your—boss?—your boss, not today or ever, under oath or the threat of death.

That being said, it had started as a bit of a coping mechanism.

He was stupid hot, and he walked towards you like you were quarry he had hunted, and the first time he’d done it, your brain had gone completely offline for a full five seconds. Getting off that night had been unrelated, you tell yourself—you didn’t think while pumping two fingers into your cunt, let alone about him, let alone when you’d added the third because you were certainly not imagining something thicker plunging into your heat. Fingers hadn’t been enough, not for a job like that, and by the time you overheard him finish a playful spat with Lyla with the words “good girl”, you’d given in and broke open the vibrator collection, a relic of a much more impulsive time, before you were fucking yourself on toys definitely not to the thought of your boss.

The first casualty had been your green rabbit vibe. It was a mainstay, and your oldest toy—a thruster, thick, good insertable length, great battery life, not so loud you struggled to get off for fear of your next-door neighbor hearing its buzz. Miguel had bitten someone during a mission that day, just held them and sunk his teeth in and set them down as they slumped, paralyzed, and wiped his mouth of the blood afterward like it wasn’t the hottest thing known to man.

Monsterfucking porn had been your saving grace. You’d turned to werewolves and tried not to overthink the image in your head when you pictured their teeth scraping your flesh, and then your old reliable rabbit vibe had made an odd noise between your writhing that tore you out of the image entirely. Seconds later, it stopped thrusting whether you wanted it to or not. When you hit the button, it made a pathetic noise like a spent lover, wriggled a moment, and went right back to motionless.

You’d groaned in frustration, pulled it out, told yourself it had just died, except it was still making that buzzing noise and the clitoral stimulator was still working fine. You pulled the third orgasm of the night out of the clit stimulator and your wrist work alone—it had been a bit better, because the ruined orgasm 2.5 had ultimately turned out to be an edge, and a name that no one would ever be able to prove was Miguel’s ghosted your lips by then. A good cleaning, a good charge, and some cooldown time, and you determined that the thruster of your poor little green rabbit would never work again.

Miguel O'Hara’s second casualty among your collection was nearly as tragic. You’d come to see him at the wrong time that day—walked in, said his name, and he’d turned to you with red eyes and actually growled at you, and holy shit, you couldn’t calm down for the next hour or the rest of the night.

Your green rabbit had been relegated to a glorified dildo and clit vibe, and as you thrashed on your bed, desperately chasing just an echo of the things that ran through your head when he growled at you, pressing the vibe into yourself as far as it would go and nearly there nearly there nearly there, it buzzed oddly and its power suddenly fell away.

You’d choked back a sob at that one. Again, you assumed it’d been a case of poor battery life, though you hadn’t charged it all that long ago. When you reluctantly pulled out the dripping vibe and saw its indicator lights flashing and flickering in the dark room, you did sob, and then, because you were still thinking about the growl in his voice and the flash of his fangs, you dragged yourself out of bed, dumped your old friend in the trash, and found your backup vibrator to finish the job.

The next casualty of your collection had been your pink vibe—she was an upgrade in every way to the green one. More speed options, rotating beads in the shaft, an attempt to imitate “tongues” on the clit, however the hell that was supposed to work, and more money to have discreetly shipped to your apartment.

This time, Miguel hadn’t even done anything in particular to catch you in his toy-breaking throes. He’d just been existing. Vibing, if you will. And your horny ass—by that point you were starting to suspect yourself some kind of nymphomaniac, and that was before casualty number three—saw him just sitting there and eating food like a normal-ass person, had some really fucking horny thoughts (first about just cooking for him, nice, domestic, sweet) (second about him pulling up the apron you’d wear for him in the first scenario and splitting you in half over the kitchen counter), and that was it for your evening post-shenanigans.

So, naturally, when you got home, you took off the bracelet, stashed it in another room, leaned over your kitchen counter, and revved up that rotating-beads-in-the-shaft thruster, pistoning it into your cunt with obscene squelches like your life depended on it. You’d kept it up, free hand clasped over your mouth, until you were forced to finish on the couch lest your legs give out, and the poor thing overheated from the strain of trying to keep up with the image you had in your head of Miguel and the thruster never moved again. Great investment, that one.

It was at this point in time that you had two options:

First, seek therapy to help you through the excruciating condition of being sex-crazed for one Miguel O'Hara.

Or, secondly, you could funnel those feelings through a surrogate and fuck someone else’s brains out so you didn’t have to think about him.

You, in all your overwhelming genius, decided that the city’s superhero could not retain the services of a therapist in any way that mattered, let alone any of the Spider-Therapists abound at HQ, and instead found your way into a myriad of fuck-buddy relationships with perfect strangers.

You found your pool of eligible fuck-buddies wanting, to say the least. You never used to be all that picky—I mean, sure, you were never exactly all that attracted to anyone before the whole Spider thing, and then you were a little too busy to worry about it, but you still probably would have slept with someone if they were decently pretty enough and nice to you—but then you tried to find someone and filtered out half of them on looks alone.

Hair too light. Too waifish. I could snap this one in half.

Some were just generally not great candidates as you swiped through: weird thoughts about domming, one whose bio mentioned how he would expect you to throw out your toys once you were “dedicated” to him (those were expensive and you’d been forced to throw out one too many already), misaligned kinks, one guy who literally said “I don’t believe in safewords” and didn’t see how that was the biggest red flag in the universe.

It took too long, once you’d settled on a few choice matches, to figure out what they all had in common beyond making profiles on a hookup app and claiming to be dominants:

They all reminded you of Miguel.

This, admittedly, did not become clear until later, when you slept with the first one for the second time and it wasn’t all that bad and while he had you blindfolded on the bed, you forgot yourself and moaned a name.

Not ‘sir’, like had been discussed in your initial meeting.

At first, you’d frozen because you’d forgotten to use his title, and that meant you were due for punishment. Then, it was because you realized the real mistake:

That hadn’t been his name you’d moaned.

You broke it off shortly after that. When the second guy went the way of the first, you gave yourself one last shot with this whole diversion idea, and that went pretty well. You lasted three whole months with this one—he was sweet, he was funny, and when it came time for you to be tied down and have your brains fucked out, he respected your hard stops and made your head fuzzy by the time he was done with you.

He bit you in the heat of the moment, and you moaned the wrong name again, and this time, you gave up on having any sort of sex life, even though he tried to be understanding of the misstep.

His teeth weren’t sharp enough to live up to who you wanted him to be, anyway.

How many casualties had Miguel O'Hara racked up in your bedroom, now? Three partners, two thrusting mechanisms, one vibrator, and now, as you sit on your knees on your bed and ride the half-defunct pink rabbit, the still-functioning vibrator buzzing in the night, you give in and admit to yourself that what you need more than anything is for him to break you in half. To chase you down, clamp his teeth on your throat, and have his way with you.

Riding this stupid toy isn’t enough. You slump face-first onto the bed, ass in the air, and try to imagine how his hand would feel on the back of your neck as you reach a hand back to pump the toy into your weeping pussy.

This, too, is not enough—you resort to full-power vibrator, nearly spasming as you try to reach the heights you need to feel satisfied tonight. And you even nearly get there, before Miguel O'Hara’s stupid everything claims its seventh casualty and the vibrator sputters out with a noise that you’ve come to associate with a profound sort of grief.

You throw the broken vibrator aside, reach for the shitty purple bullet vibe that had come as a free gift with one of your collection. In your haste and with the strength that comes with being a Spider, the fucking thing snaps in your hands. Another casualty of his. At least you didn’t pay a hundred dollars for that one.

It’s little consolation. Tears slip down your cheeks as you reach back to do the job manually, but no amount of fingering yourself or frantically rubbing at your clit is going to be enough, and fuck it, you know that by now, but that was your last toy and now there’s nothing left and his stupid pretty face is still in your head and you have to do something!

It’s no good.

Nothing you’ve tried has ever quite been good enough, and you know that.

Short of buying yourself a fucking machine, too expensive and noisy and hefty to even really consider, you’ve got nothing.

After fifteen frustrated minutes of crying and trying to bring yourself up to that climax you so desperately need, you throw yourself down fully onto the bed and actively cry into your pillow.

He’s stupid.

He’s burned through every sex toy in your collection, every vibrator and thruster, every partner you’ve tried to lay with since meeting him.

You are really, really starting to hate Miguel O'Hara.

~

Okay, so that’s one unhealthy coping mechanism lost to your complete inability to be chill. Luckily, you’re not just a sex-crazed simp for him, you’re also an adrenaline junkie, and if your substitute for all the lost sexual outlets happens to be taking some bigger risks than you normally would when caught up in some fight or another, that’s between you and the wall you went through.

Keep telling yourself it’s sustainable, and maybe you won’t have to worry about the weird look from one of the many various Peters running around or the stern look on the face of Miguel when you report back in. Which Peter? Fuck if you know. You were faceblind before joining the society comprised of 95% the same guy in different flavors. They don’t take it personally. At least you almost always get the name right.

And really, it is! It is completely sustainable! Bruises are a thing you wear with pride, and you’re beyond the worry for broken bones and serious injury by now. If anything, the dull ache in your back could be a useful grounding point to keep yourself from thinking about things you shouldn’t, a skill you probably should have been practicing well before you broke the first vibe.

Nothing you try works, of course, not when he’s standing in front of you looking an awful lot like he has something to say.

“I should head back, too,” you say when your backup Peter has moved to leave. A perfect segue to heading back to your home dimension and—

“[name]. Stay back a moment.”

He doesn’t word things like requests. You’ve learned, over time, that he is requesting, in a way, but his voice is forever just a bit too deep and rumbly for your body to interpret it as anything but an order, and god you’re useless. So much for not thinking about the things you’re trying not to think about.

You have to remember that you can’t stay here and chat, so you remember that you can’t stay here and chat, and so you turn to leave anyway. “I can’t really stay and chat—“

“That was stupid,” he interrupts.

Ah. He was watching you fight today.

He raises a single eyebrow as he studies you. (You hate his stupid face you hate his stupid face you hate—)

“You could have moved out of the way.”

You snort, brush it off. “He was just some villain of the week type. I thought it’d be cool if I could get him before he hit me.”

“You let him hit you because you thought it would be cool?”

“No, I waited too long to move the way I wanted to, because I thought it would be cool. It’s not like I really got hurt, anyway.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose with a long-suffering sigh, muttering something in Spanish you don’t quite catch.

“What was that?”

“I can’t decide whether you’re stupid or just need discipline.”

That is decidedly not what he said. You caught enough shreds of his muttering to know that much. And anyway, it doesn’t matter, because it takes all your willpower not to reply with discipline me yourself then, coward and you’re so focused on that thought that it clicks.

Oh.

What you need is not to get over your monumental attraction to him.

It’s discipline.

Before you fucked the life out of every vibrator you owned, you had discipline.

Before you met him, you had discipline.

It was something you’d given over to sexual partners to handle—to tell you when to masturbate, when to cum, when to pull your toys away regardless of how needy you were.

And, in the absence of any such partners between your newly exacting standards and inability to sleep with anyone without thinking of someone else, it’s once again going to have to come from you.

You meet his eyes, a new fire within you. “I’ll do better.”

He holds your haze a long moment, his expression one of those enigmas you could spend centuries trying to crack and still turn out to be wrong in the end.

He breaks it off first, turns away from you.

“Then do it. I’ll be waiting.”

You slip out of the room and clear out of the dimension.

You’ll get your discipline back if it kills you.

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet

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[yesimwriting]

Final Girl (Part 3)

- Final Girl Series Masterlist (updated part 1 - 9 and extras) 

A/n yall have been so kind!! all of the messages, likes, comments, and reblogs for this series have made me so happy! this chapter is a little bit of filler bc my original idea for this part was way too long especially with how busy this week is supposed to be, so i sort of split it!! 

also if this has pacing issues, i’m sorry, i had a panic attack yesterday and a really bad migraine today so it’s been kinda rough lately but i wanted to get this out!! Part 4 is going to have a little more going on :)

if this is messy pls don’t give up on me 😭 i promise the next part will have more going on i just didn’t want to leave y’all waiting forever and we needed a bit of a filler

also if anyone wants to leave me an ask about this series pls do:) i’ve had so much fun talking about Final Girl

Series Summary: Y/n can’t believe that she has to leave the only home she’s ever known just because her mom’s latest boyfriend has a house in some town in California. Just as she’s starting to think that Woodsboro might not be that bad, something life altering happens after she agrees to sleep over at  Becker’s house. Now her name is practically synonymous with Ghostface’s. 

Chapter Summary: Y/n’s first day back after the incident. 

----

My reflection has never bothered me more. I know vanity is such a stupid thing to worry about now after what happened to Casey, but I can’t help the way I scrutinize my appearance. 

The attention drawing cotton-y bandaid that was placed on the gash on the side of my temple has been (thankfully) downgraded to a regular bandaid. That’s fine--I can accept that. What I can’t accept are the stupid cuts caused by all of that glass.

After being released from the hospital, it took no time for me to learn that it’s going to be awhile before I can comfortably wear pants again. My arms are a little less cut up, so the white, long sleeved shirt I picked out covers my injuries without irritating them. I tried on a pair of leggings and I barely got them to my thighs without wincing.

So now I’m wearing the most comfortable skirt I own. Normally, I wouldn’t even think twice about it, I wear this skirt so often, but it barely covers any of the cuts on the back of my legs. God...people are going to think I’m doing this for attention, especially since media outlets keep calling my house. 

Ugh--this is as good as it’s going to get for my first day back. I pick my backpack up from my bed. My eyelids feel so heavy I have to fight the urge to collapse back into bed. 

The walk downstairs is painfully slow. Once I’m finally in the hall that leads to the kitchen, I stop. A vague confusion clouds my thoughts. Was I going to the kitchen? What did I want from the kitchen?

“Mornin’, kiddo.” I blink at the sound of Wells’ voice. At least it’s offering me a sense of a direction. 

Stepping fully in the kitchen, I greet back, “Good morning.” 

He eyes me for a long second, piercing blue irises lingering in a way that makes me feel uneasy in my own skin. “Skirt’s a little grown, ain’t it?” When my only reaction is to furrow my eyebrows, he continues, “What happened to those little girl dresses you used to wear? I liked those.” 

I grab the strap of my backpack, shifting slightly. I stopped wearing those dresses after he had been dating my mom for a few months. “Outgrew them, I guess.” 

Wells nods once, the motion gruff as he moves to grab his mug. He lets out a curt, gruff noise. 

“Oh, Wells.” Like always, my mom’s voice chases away all the tension. “Don’t you know better than telling a girl what to wear? Especially a teenager. Now ease up, 16-year-old me would make Y/n look like a saint.” With that, my mom finally looks at me. “You look pretty, like always, I especially like your top.” It takes me a second to realize that my mom’s referencing the fact that I stole this shirt from her closet. I let out a soft, slow laugh. “You okay?” 

I nod drastically. “Yep, just want to get the first day back over with.” 

“I can’t believe you only took one day off. When I was your age, I’d have taken half a week off for less.” 

“It’s going to be bad no matter when I go back. My name’s been all over the news.” I release the strap of my backpack, scratching the back of my wrist. “Plus it’s junior year and that one day off already has me drowning in makeup work. I can’t afford to fall behind. Junior year is the year colleges look at most. This year could make or break whether or not I get into Princeton.” 

My mom holds her hands up in defense. “Yes, I know, you ranted to me about it yesterday. Just promise me you’ll listen to your body. I don’t love that you haven’t had your follow up appointment yet to confirm whether or not you have a concussion.” 

“Mom, I’m fine, promise. I’ll let you know if I start to feel weird.” 

She watches me for a long second, likely attempting to scan me the way an MRI machine would. “Fine, you need a ride or--” 

“Actually, a friend’s picking me up.” 

At that my mom tilts her head in a way that’s so knowing I feel the urge to confess even though I’ve done nothing. “A friend as in one of those two boys that spent all weekend calling and checking in on you?” 

My mom spent the last two days at my side. Normally it would have annoyed me, but it was actually nice. It reminded me of life before Wells. There was one downside, though. She saw how often Billy and Stu called. It wasn’t terrible and she probably would have picked up on it anyway, but it’s opened the ground to a lot of jokes and comments on her part.

“You’re the one who brought them into this. I would have never thought to call Billy while I was at the hospital.” That’s true. Even though we were friends before the incident, I wouldn’t have thought to call anyone except my mom. “And they’re just trying to be there for me like good friends.” 

At that, my mom leans against the kitchen island. “Y’know when I was your age, I had a guy that just wanted to be a good friend and drove me to school. Now I have a daughter.” 

I roll my eyes, “Haha. Yes--I’m going to get pregnant in the less than 10-ish minutes we’re going to have before we need to get to class.” 

“It only took about 8 minutes to make you, and that includes me getting dressed and fixing my hair after. Just saying.” 

I make a point of fake gagging. “Bye mom, Wells.“

“What? I was joking!” 

I walk towards the front door. A hand on my shoulder makes me nearly jump out of my skin. “Mom! You scared me.” 

She offers me a sheepish smile, “You know I’m kidding, right? They’re nice for caring.” 

“I know, mom.” 

With a sigh, she continues, “Just be sa--” 

“Oh my God, mom! I’m not having se--” 

“Easy, pumpkin,” she laughs off my outburst, “I mean in general. Don’t strain yourself and don’t feel like you need to push through. You want to go home early and I’ll pick you up.” 

I smile softly. “Yeah, I will.” 

With that, I open the front door. The sun is so bright I have to drop my head as I walk down the driveway. Wells’ house is objectively nicer than the house my mom and I lived in when we were still in Texas, but I still find myself missing the familiarity of our old front porch. 

Squinting, I look up and notice a car waiting next to the mailbox. How did I miss that? Rubbing my eyes with one hand, I approach the vehicle. 

I pull open the door to the backseat. Two sets of eyes turn towards me. “You know you guys didn’t have to wait for me.” I push my backpack into the car before sitting down. “You could’ve honked or something,” 

“We just got here,” Billy says easily, but I’m not sure I believe him. 

Stu turns in his seat to face me better as I shut the car door. “Plus we don’t mind giving you time to get all dolled up. Especially since today’s going to be a total bloodbath.” 

His wording leaves me more confused than upset. I draw my eyebrows together, shifting awkwardly. “What do you mean?” 

“Everyone’s gone crazy over what happened. I think more people were talking about you than Casey, and Casey’s the one that got gutted. It’s all over the news. They hung her from that tree in--” Billy moves his hand from the console in order to smack the side of Stu’s head. “Ow, man--what was that for?” 

“It’s not even 8 yet, at least let her wake up first before you traumatize her.” 

The thought of Casey makes my stomach twist, but I’m not focused in on anything enough to really react. Tiredly, I pull my backpack onto my lap and squeeze it to my body. “It’s fine,” I’m not sure if I’m talking to them or myself. 

Stu and Billy exchange a look that I barely register before resting my chin on my bag. “Are you okay? You didn’t even do that cute, little glare thing you do when you want me to shut up.” 

“I’m fine,” I answer a little too quickly, forcing myself to sit up some more, “A little tired.” Stu’s watching me a little too carefully and I catch Billy glancing at me through the rearview mirror. “Seriously?” Sighing, I shift in my seat, “First my mom and now you guys. I’m fine.”

My reaction is just a little too angry. Maybe if I felt a little more rested, I would have known better. Stu moves until he’s siting in the passenger seat normally. “Crying over the fact that you’re a total mommy’s girl.” 

Rolling my eyes and ignoring the way the motion irritates my migraine, I lean back in my seat. “Put on a seatbelt, asshole.” 

Even though that’s said with more bite and irritation than anything I’ve ever said to him, Stu laughs. It’s light and terribly offensive. I frown, looking over at Billy as heat crawls up my neck and towards my face. He’s just barely fighting down a grin. “It’s not that funny.” 

“No,” Stu sarcastically agrees, “That was so mean of you. I can’t remember the last time someone insulted me and tried to take care of me at the same time.” 

I cross my arms around my backpack. “Why did I agree to getting into a contained space with you two so early in the morning?” 

“Because you don’t have a license.” Billy looks way too smug as he turns the wheel as we move down a curb. 

I glare at him. “You extorted that information out of me while I was super out of it and half asleep.” 

“You said it yourself, it’s not like one of us asked.” 

He’s right and I hate it. I sink further into the seat, tempted to shut my eyes, but knowing that there’s no guarantee that I won’t fall asleep if I do. “Whatever.” 

Stu half laughs at that before starting to talk about a new scary movie that’s coming out. The plot sounds kind of basic, but I’m not one to judge until I see the movie. Normally, I’d be totally invested. I kind of like when Stu rambles about something he’s interested in, but now I’m struggling to hold my head up. 

I don’t register that we’re in the school parking lot until both Billy and Stu get out of the car. Once they’re both out, I shake my head once in an attempt to clear my thoughts. Get it together.

When I step out of the car, I make a point of keeping my eyes on the ground in front of me. Stu may exaggerate every once in awhile, but I don’t think he’s wrong about school. My mom has been fielding calls since the morning I was discharged from the hospital and last night while I was flipping through channels, I saw my face three times.

Before I can even think, a bright flash makes me flinch. The light is like a punch behind the eye thanks to my headache. That is followed by a series of other equally bright and irritating camera shutters. 

Shit. 

Billy steps towards me, dropping his voice so that only I can hear, “You know we don’t have to.” 

Taking a settling breath, I tilt my chin up a fraction of an inch. “It’s fine,” I say, hoping that I’ll convince myself, “Can’t hide forever.” 

We walk forward, me a few steps ahead of Billy and Stu. My fast pace is a sad attempt at ripping off the bandaid. 

“Excuse--Excuse me, miss!” I squeeze the strap of my backpack so tightly my knuckles must be white from the tension. “Miss Y/n L/n.” The woman that waves me down is holding a large microphone. She barely glances at me before turning her attention back to the camera man that followed her as she chased me. “Hi. Gale Weathers. I covered the last one of these.” 

I wince. “I’m sorry, when you say ‘the last one of these’ do you mean the last murder or--” 

“...And we’re rolling!” In nature, bright colors are meant to warn living things of poison. I think that logic could be applied to Gale Weathers and her auburn hair and blood red lips. “I’m Gale Weathers and I’m bringing you an exclusive with the lone survivor of what some are calling the worst murder in Woodsboro history.” She then turns towards me, “Now, Y/n, our viewers want to know exactly what you’re feeling.” 

Her microphone is way to close to my face. “Well, Gale, I’m glad you asked,” I’m speaking in the polite tone I used to reserve for rude customers when I worked in the mall last summer, “I’m feeling fan-freakin’-tastic!” 

The false enthusiasm jars her the way I hoped it would. She brings the microphone back to her. “Really?” 

“No, you vulture. Ambush interviewing is as tacky as that suit.” 

With that, I turn away and attempt to storm into school with an aura that scares away reporters. I’ve only ever seen that kind of confident magic come from my mom, but she’s half my genetic material, that means it must be in me somewhere, right?

Apparently wrong, because the cameras continue to flash. One man gets so close to me that his rapid photographing leaves me dizzy. 

“Okay,” an arm quickly wraps around my side, stabilizing me, “You got your pictures, now leave her alone.” The scent of Tatum’s perfume is comforting as she guides me the rest of the way inside. Once we’re inside, we’re granted the semblance of some privacy. “And I thought they were bad yesterday. Are you okay?” 

I nod, relaxing a little at her casual expression. Maybe if I try hard enough, I’ll be able to pretend that this is an average Tuesday. “I’m fine, I’m just tired, and I can’t believe how obsessed everyone is.” 

“Of course they’re obsessed.” For the first time ever, Randy’s voice is completely unwelcome. “You’re the sole survivor, the only witness to tell the story, the--for lack of better term--final girl.” 

Being in a friend group with so many people that are really into horror movies is all fun and games until they summarize the great trauma of your life in a movie trope. “Really? I never would have thought of it that way.” 

Sidney glares at Randy in defense of me. I appreciate it, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. “It’s too soon for those kinds of jokes.” 

My sarcasm was pure venom and Sidney’s reaction, though well intentioned, only made me feel sorry. Randy offers me a sheepish sort of look that immediately makes me feel bad for being so snippy. His comment wouldn’t have bothered me so much if it wasn’t for what just happened, and he wasn’t really trying to be mean. That actually might have been an attempt to lighten the mood, especially since he knows that the final girl storyline is one of my favorites. He’s always recommending movies that end like that. 

“Thanks, Sid, but I came on a little strong. I’m sorry, Randy, I’ve been a total nightmare all day. Just ask Billy and St--” I look around, a little surprised that they’re not right behind me. Aw, I lost them in all that commotion. “Weird--they were just behind me.” Shaking off the slightly lost feeling with the turn of my head, I move on, “Ask them later. The point is, I’ve been awful. It’s not your guys’ fault that this is my life right now.” 

Randy’s expression morphs from being almost hurt to something that’s even more of a punch in the gut. He seems sympathetic. “It’s okay, you’re holding it together way more than I would be. I don’t even know how you’re at school today.” 

“Yeah, how are you even here, Y/n?” Tatum echoes, her voice a little softer than before. 

It’s a good question. Now that I’m here all those points I made about school and grades and Princeton feel so far away. “It had to happen at some point, I might as well rip off the band aid. I just want everything to go back to normal.” I shift awkwardly, watching them watch me. “And the man that did this doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of my fear.” 

After a moment, Randy prompts, “...And?” 

“And what?” 

He half smiles. “Come on, Y/n, if you want this to feel normal, you’re going to have to give us the Princeton rant.” 

I roll my eyes before scoffing. “I do not talk about Princeton often enough for you to warrant naming it a specific rant.” 

Randy raises an eyebrow at my obvious lie. “You must have really hit your head hard.” 

“Rude.“ I turn towards Tatum, “Tate, you don’t think I’m like obsessed with Princeton.

She parts her lips as she debates the way she wants to respond. Before she can say anything, Stu walks up from behind me and pulls Tatum into a hug. He then gives her a soft kiss that feels linger-y. Wait--why am I noticing that? That’s...that’s weird of me. And why does this feel more uncomfortable than the time I caught them full on making out in the girl’s bathroom? Why is that tiny display of affection sitting in my chest in a way that makes it hard to look at them? 

More annoyed at my thoughts than the way Stu cups her face, I force my myself to stare at the locker in front of me. There are polaroids of people I don’t know tapped to the front of it.

Ugh--screw the guy that threw me into that wall. My head must be totally messing with me. 

“What are you guys talking about?” Billy’s sudden appearance surprises me more than it should. At this point, I should know that when I see one the other isn’t too far behind. He has an arm around Sidney’s shoulders, and she’s leaning into his touch just enough for it to be noticeable. Since when is Billy so into PDA? 

Oh my god, what’s wrong with me? Maybe my mom was right to think I have some kind of brain injury. My eyes snap back to the locker. “Nothing.”

“Y/n’s obsession with an Ivy League school in New Jersey.”

After a moment of silence, I realize that everyone’s waiting for me to speak. “Not an obsession.” My response lacks my usual level of conviction when talking about Princeton in any capacity. I can feel the fragile way they’re all looking at me. My eyes focus on the polaroids in front of me until everything else blurs into the background. 

The polaroids have my eyes watering and I don’t know why. They’re just stupid pictures of people I don’t know. Casey’s voice echoes in my head. It’s a punch in the gut.

Stu’s voice cuts through the static of my thoughts. “Y/n? Are you o--”

“I think I remembered something.” The admission is so low I’m surprised anyone hears it. “Randy, do you have a copy of the news article? Not the first one, the second one that lists everything found at the crime scene?” 

“Yeah,” Randy admits it like it’s an apology, “In my backpack.” 

“Can I see it?”

Everyone stays quiet at that. There’s an energy in the air that makes me feel as trapped as I did in the hospital. “Come on, guys, I don’t need to be babied. The pictures aren’t going to freak me out, I was kinda there for the real thing.” 

“At the hospital, didn’t you say you were unconscious for most of it?” Billy’s remark earns him a glare so harsh that he moves his hands to hold them up in defense before dropping them to his side. 

“Fine. Whatever. Don’t show me the newspaper, I’ll find my own copy, it’s everywhere. There’s a good chance some jag-off shoved one into my locker anyways.” Ugh--why is everyone so impossible? I turn on my heels, unsure if I’m fuming or ready to burst into tears.

I don’t even make it a full step before something locks around my upper forearm. My head snaps back as the hand’s sudden grip softens. “Come on, bug.” That leaves me hesitant. Stu called me that the day after we first met. Since then, the nickname has mainly been reserved to calm me down. I’ve asked him about it before, but he always refuses to explain it. “You’re just going to make yourself sick.” 

Biting the inside of my cheek, I frown. The group learned about my weak stomach early on in our friendship. My first night drinking with them ended with me throwing up in Stu’s bathroom. That wouldn’t have been so embarrassing if I was totally wasted, but I was objectively way too sober to get that sick.

There’s some underlying quality to his words. A quality that’s too knowing, too sure. He’s being more condescending than sweet. “I think I can manage.” I pull my arm away, ignoring the way his expression blanks. “I’m not a vase or a little kid, I don’t need you all treating me like I’m that unbelievably fragile.”

Stu angles his head to the side. I force myself to tilt my chin upwards in an attempt to stand my ground. I don’t fully get whatever face off we’re in, but I’ll be damned if I lose it this quickly. “Since you’re all grown up, Y/n, look at whatever you want, but don’t come crying to me about it.” 

I take a step forward, indignation leaving my spine straight. “When have I ever--” 

“You couldn’t even spend a few hours by yourself in a hospital.”

The unfairness of his statement forces a scoff from my lips. I take a step forward. “I didn’t ask for your help then and I’m not asking for it now.” 

“Stu.” Billy’s voice is level, bordering on neutral. 

At that, Stu exhales, but he doesn’t stop staring at me. “It’s fine, Billy.” 

“Yeah,” Stu echoes, shifting towards me, “Y/n’s fine, she doesn’t need anyone.” 

A sarcastic, half thought out reply rises up my chest and jams itself in my throat. I don’t think I’ve ever thought about how much taller than me Stu is. He’s looking down at me with an intensity that hits me straight in the stomach. Great, another feeling I don’t understand. “Whatever,” I mumble, “I need to get to class.” 

The bell rings a moment after I turn. I walk to homeroom, not thinking twice about it until I’m sitting in front of an empty desk. 

My face is hot, my head hurts, and Mrs. Ramirez’s announcements are drowned out by a ringing in my ears. When the bell rings, I can’t get out of the room fast enough. Normally, Stu’s around right after homeroom, ready to walk me to math. 

I don’t know what that weird argument was in the hallway, but I’m not ready to deal with it yet. So even though I’m gripping the straps of my backpack so tightly it hurts, I take the long way to class. There are no memories of Casey in AP Calc AB, so this time when I sit at my desk, I can breathe.

By the time I’m pulling out my notebook, the bell rings. Mr. Williams walks to the front of the classroom, “Alright, everyone in their seat. For today’s exam, you are permitted the use of a graphing calculator.”

Shit. The test. I forgot about the calc test. Mr. Williams begins to hand out the exam. When he gets to me, I stop him, “Mr. Williams, I-I was wondering if I could possibly take the exam on another day? After the events of this weekend, I--” 

“Ms. L/n, I made it clear to the entire class that I do not believe in scheduling a makeup exam the day of.” 

My fingers nervously scratch at the back of my wrist. “And I understand that, and normally I’d never ask, but if you’ve seen the news--” 

“Ms. L/n, do you want to take the test or would you rather me put a 0 in the grade book?” 

I could scream. I want to scream, but instead, all I do is nod, “Take the test.” 

And with that, he places the packet on my desk. The sound it makes feels like a death sentence. The next 50 minutes are a nightmare. I don’t remember how to do half the problems, and what I do remember, I can’t seem to do right. By the time the bell rings, I’m in full on panic mode. Mr. Williams collects the test and I leave the room like it’s on fire. 

The sharp pain in my head has never been this bad. I reach my locker, unlocking it to grab my bottle of ibuprofen. I take two Advil without any water. Today totally, unbelievably sucks. I need to splash some water in my face. 

The bathroom is thankfully empty. Pushing my backpack off of my shoulders and onto the counter, I turn on the sink. The water is cool against my fingers, and for the first time all day, I feel like I can breathe. My bandaid is sticking out to me too much so I force my gaze downwards. 

There’s a long abandoned copy of a newspaper on the counter. Its corners are so wet that the words at the start and end of the article are unreadable. The page it’s opened to has no photos. I’m sure if I flipped through it I’d find something listing everything the police found inside the house that night. 

Stu’s earlier claim echoes in my head as I pick up the newspaper. I’m not sure if I’m more motivated by spite or the desire to answer the question in my head, but I guess it doesn’t matter, because the end result is the same. I turn the page, skimming the article. The intro is so long that I still haven’t gotten to the murder, let alone what the police found after. I flip ahead until I find what I’m looking for.

I read the section about everything that was found twice. They mention everything down to the burned jiffy pop and the tube of lipgloss Casey left in the living room. The paragraph never mentions the polaroids from the kitchen.

He took pictures of me from the crime scene. 

Unease leaves my stomach in knots. The killer, who talked to me on the phone like we were best friends and chose to not kill me took photos of me. 

I turn the page frantically, desperate to see if the polaroids are mentioned there. Big mistake. Casey’s photo is staring at me, but she’s not her in it. She’s hanging from that big tree in her yard and her--her intestines... 

Cold sweat leaves my hands clammy. My body knows what’s happening before I do. A stall door gets thrown open just in time for me to throw myself onto my knees. Bile and whatever’s left of last night’s dinner burn as they come up my throat. I wretch. 

An unexpected but not unpleasant touch is pressed into my back as my hair is pushed out of my face. More bile leaves me. 

After a second passes and I don’t throw up a third time, I turn my head just enough to see who’s next to me. Billy. He doesn’t say anything at my recognition, he just moves his hand up and down my back gently. 

“...I found a newspaper.” 

“Yeah, I assumed after i heard the…”

He’s trailing off to be nice. I shift in order to sit cross legged on the floor. “Right. That’s fair.” 

His hand stalls against my back. “I didn’t mean it li--” 

“I know.” My voice is too small.

Billy moves his free hand. I don’t know what he’s doing until he’s pulling the paper away from me. I let him take the newspaper and place it somewhere on the other side of him. “Why’d you look?” 

“I--earlier, I was looking at this locker in front of us and it had polaroids taped to it, and-and that made me remember that on Saturday, Casey took a bunch of pictures of me. Polaroids.” I wipe at my face with the back of my palm. "The article’s super detailed, but it didn’t mention any pictures. I-I think that means that the person took them.”  

Billy’s eyebrows draw together. The corner of his mouth turns downwards. “You’re making yourself sick over this.” 

“Because it’s a big deal!” My reaction is harsher than it should be. He’s being nice to me after I blew up at everyone this morning and they were just trying to be good friends. And after this, I’m in no position to talk about what I am and am not able to handle. “It’s a big deal that I’m alive and Casey isn’t.” Taking a shaky breath, I continue, “And I should--I have to make it right somehow. Casey’s dead and I’m alive because it fit whatever plot he wanted to make. It was total chance, the killer probably flipped a coin while outside of her house to pick which one of us would live and which one would end up like...” I gesture vaguely in the direction of the newspaper, “That.” 

He’s quiet for so long I think he may not respond at all. His hand begins to move up and down my back again in the form of small circles. “Do you really think that?” 

Shrugging, I lean into his touch. “I mean, it’s probably either that or a stalker scenario.”

“You don’t have to figure it out. Just because you’re the one that survived doesn’t mean you need to put yourself through this. Especially now. It just happened, give yourself some time.” His voice is so assuring and oddly comforting I feel my eyes water. “What’s wrong?” 

Despite myself, I almost snort. “I think you know what’s wrong.” 

He gives me a semi bitchy look. “Something else happened, I can see it on your face.” 

Frowning, I let my gaze drop to the ground. “Am I that transparent?” 

Billy moves, the hand that’s not on my back coming beneath my chin. I let him tilt my head upwards until our eyes meet. “You have no idea.”

Warmth crawls up my face. He smiles. “Fine, I’ll tell you but it’s stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid.” 

I raise an eyebrow. “Well, I’ve had a really bad headache all day and then I get to first period and Mr. Williams starts talking about an exam. And that’s how I realized that I completely forgot about the calc unit test. I tried using the whole almost murdered excuse--I kinda hated myself for it, but it doesn’t matter, because he didn’t even go for it.” With a dramatic, deprecating sigh, I start to pick at a loose thread in my shoe lace. “Mr. Williams doesn’t believe in getting out of the test the day of. There’s no way I didn’t fail it, and it’s an AP class so that’s going to mess with my entire GPA.” 

He doesn’t comment on my teariness or the way that I almost sniffle, he just continues to softly rub my back. The gesture is starting to feel somewhat maternal, but it’s nice. “He made you take the test?” 

“Mr. Williams’ is a total asshole.” 

Billy’s mouth turns upwards, “He sounds like it.” I smile, leaning into his touch. “You should go back to the doctor.” He frowns when I move away from him. “Your head hurts, you’re moody--” 

“Am not.” 

“Right, because that stand off with Stu earlier was like you.” 

Right--that weird moment in the hallway. Great, Stu’s probably mad at me, and there’s no way that me going out of my way to not see him before math is something he’s going to take lightly. “He’s probably so mad at me.” 

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Billy says, “He can’t stay mad at you.” 

I give him a look. “He’s petty.” 

Billy smiles after a second. “He’ll be petty about it, but he won’t actually be mad.” Before I can respond, Billy stands, “Come on, you need to go to a doctor.” 

After a second, I stand, taking his hand. “Fine.” 

----

Taglist: @cole22ann @i-amnotokaywiththis 

[hairstevington]

songs that voices never share

Deaf!Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Summary: Everything's felt a little off since the Fourth of July, and no one's talking about it. Of course, one part of Steve's summer is a bit hard to ignore - he's losing his hearing. As luck would have it, a friend of Dustin's ends up playing a key role in Steve's adjustment to his new normal.

WC: 4K

Warnings: Deaf!Steve, use of ASL, angst/references to events of season 1-3, this fic will disregard the events of season 4 because I said so, canon universe, hurt/comfort, angst, platonic Stobin forever, Steve and Will are buds, some sad stuff but overall it's a love story like come on it's me we're talking about

A/N: Hello! Everyone loved my drabble about Deaf Steve so I'm expanding it into a full fic. The plan is 7 chapters, and I'll probably post them all both here and on Ao3. Please note that ASL is written in all capitals when notated in English, and the grammar is a bit different.

-----------------------

Chapter 1 - I'll take a quiet life

Steve was kind of prone to getting beat up. God knows Dustin never let him forget it.

After the fight with Jonathan, he felt more or less the same. Then, Billy beat the shit out of him, and Steve started getting migraines and hearing a ringing in his ears every so often.

But after being tortured by the Russians for a couple hours? That’s when the real damage was done. 

Everything felt a little off since the Fourth of July, but no one talked about it. Even though so much had changed, Steve and the rest of the group all tried to get back to any normalcy they could find. Steve and Robin got a job together at Family Video and ultimately ignored everything they'd experienced together. It just felt like it was too big to talk about, so they didn't. They pretended like it didn't happen honestly - which might have been more successful had it not been for one fairly major thing.

The ringing became almost constant. Steve’s hearing was piss poor some days and kind of okay other days, but eventually the bad days were more frequent than the good. Steve knew he got beat up a lot, and he figured there were probably some consequences, but he never had time to think about it. Then, when he had trouble hearing one day, he figured he was just swollen and needed time to heal. And then he blamed it on allergies. And then he felt stupid for not taking it seriously, so he ignored it. And then, when he finally went to the doctor, he realized the full extent of it all. 

They called it a perfect storm of injuries. At least, that’s what he thought they said. Apparently he’d had too much trauma to the area and not enough medical attention after multiple concussions and ruptured eardrums. He also apparently broke some of the bones in his ears??? They told him a lot of things that he couldn’t quite understand.

He wasn’t stupid. He just couldn’t hear so well anymore. 

Steve had never been the smartest person in the first place. He wasn’t great at school, especially with English or history, and he never cared that much about it either. He breezed his way through high school and focused on sports and popularity.

So, when Steve couldn’t keep up in conversations with his friends, they didn’t really think anything was out of the ordinary. Classic Steve, always a few sentences behind. 

He got away with it for much longer than he had any right to. Robin was the first to notice. 

They worked together at Family Video most days that summer, and it was a good job because anyone could do it, really. They were never really that busy, so a lot of the time was just Steve and Robin getting paid to hang out.

A lot of times, Robin rambled at him about movies or music or how hot Molly Ringwald was, and he could just nod and smile and occasionally say something like, “yeah, totally,” and she would be none the wiser. If they were looking at each other, he could kind of tell what she was saying based on her lips, but only because he knew her well enough to do so. He couldn’t really understand anyone else, except maybe Dustin sometimes. Then again, Dustin used a lot of tech speak that went over Steve’s head even before his hearing deteriorated. 

Steve was putting tapes back in the proper places, oblivious to Robin calling for him. He nearly jumped out of his skin when she tapped him on the shoulder. 

“Shit! Hi!” he exclaimed, realizing he must have missed something again. “Sorry, I’m kind of out of it.”

Ah, his go-to excuse. It worked every time.

“Bullshit, Harrington,” she replied. Before Steve could defend himself, she continued. “You can’t hear very well anymore, can you?”

Huh. Okay, it worked every time, until now. Steve nodded, realizing he had no reason to hide it from Robin anymore.

“How’d you know?” he wondered. Usually, Robin paced back and forth and avoided eye contact during her rambles, but this time she stayed put and faced him head on.

“Steve,” she began. “You’ve always been a little oblivious, but recently it’s like you’re never listening to me at all. Plus, I’ve been throwing random things into conversation to see if you notice. Hey, Steve, just figured out that hamsters aren’t real. Dingus, I just got a tattoo of your face on my face. You know, things like that. You’ve never said anything about it, so at first I thought you were just stressed or depressed or - wait, shit. You can’t hear. Maybe I should write this down.” She went to search for a pen and paper, but he grabbed her arm to stop her.

“I think I got the gist,” he responded. Thankfully this was one of his better days, otherwise he never would have been able to follow. “Wait, hamsters are real though, right?” Robin’s face fell as she genuinely pondered whether Steve was being serious. “I’m kidding. Yes I know what you’re saying.”

“Okay, cool,” she replied, relieved. “Anyway, once I realized nothing was wrong with your psyche, I started doing other tests. But sometimes I’d stomp my feet and you’d react, so I worried I was making it all up. One time I snapped right by your ear, but then I accidentally flicked you on the temple.”

Steve remembered that. She said it was a bug.

He could hear some frequencies, and it also depended on the day and the season. It was best in quiet spaces where he only had to talk to one person. That’s how he got by so well at work, because it was a relatively quiet place. 

Well, except for Robin and her constant rambling. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked. Steve shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I didn’t wanna admit it, I guess, but I think it’s just gonna get worse.” The prospect of losing his hearing entirely and permanently was on the table, especially if he was to get punched again or something. Considering his group of friends and their history of getting into trouble, that didn’t seem unlikely. Robin put a caring hand on his shoulder and gave a comforting smile.

“Well, I talk too much for you to not understand me, so this means we’re both gonna have to learn sign language.”

“What?” Steve winced at the idea. “No way. I took three years of Spanish and I only know how to ask where the bathroom is.”

(He actually forgot how to say that, too.)

“Yeah, but maybe sign language will be different. I mean, it’s visual, right?” Robin put her elbows on the counter and continued. “Come on, you know I love languages, and I’m soooo booooored.” As she spoke, her body slowly sank onto the counter until she was face down. 

Steve chuckled. He wasn’t surprised that she was the first to figure it all out, and her reaction was incredibly on brand. 

“Yeah, okay,” he said. “Let’s give it a shot.”

Steve picked up the alphabet pretty quickly. He already knew most of it from Sunday School as a kid. Then, for about a week or so, Robin drilled him by practicing different signs during their shifts together. There were only a few weeks of summer vacation left before Robin went back to school for her senior year.

Steve was grateful he’d already graduated by the time his hearing got worse. He would never have had the courage to ask for accommodations. Although, Robin probably would have bugged him into asking for it anyway. 

Whatever, He didn’t need to think about that. 

MOVIE, Robin signed to Steve during a standard shift at Family Video.

“Uhhhhh…cheese?” Steve guessed. Robin shook her head. 

“No, but close!” she countered. Steve groaned. 

“How is it close, Robin? How?” he complained. She laughed, then showed him the sign for CHEESE versus MOVIE. They were honestly not that different. “Oh. Okay, yeah.”

W-O-R-K, she fingerspelled next. Steve’s eyes lit up. 

“I know this one!!!” he exclaimed, hitting one of his fists on top of the other to sign WORK.

“Yes!” Robin cheered. She quickly corrected herself and signed YES. Steve smiled. CANDY TIME.

When Steve got a sign right, she’d throw an M&M his way so he could catch it in his mouth. It was something they’d started doing together at Scoops Ahoy with various toppings.

M&M’s were much less messy.

Sure, the study and reward method was a bit juvenile, but it worked. Steve practiced, and he learned some basic signs. THANK YOU. PLEASE. SORRY. I KNOW. I DON’T UNDERSTAND. WHAT? AGAIN. He also learned random ones. BIRD. BASKETBALL. VAMPIRE. SODA.

And then, of course, the two of them learned the other essentials - words that they usually just had shared glances for.

HOT, for when an attractive customer came in. COMPLAIN, for when an annoying customer came in. FINISH, when their shift was over. 

It worked. They started signing to each other instead of talking whenever possible. Robin let him have all the tasks he could do in the back room or by himself, and she handled a lot of the customers to cover for him. The pressure and stress Steve had been feeling started to melt away, and his headaches got better since he didn't have to focus so much all the time.

His parents knew about his condition, but they never talked much in the first place, so nothing really changed at home. He’d go to work and make do, and then he’d go home, and everything was alright.

About a week of study sessions later, Robin had an idea. 

YOUR FRIENDS, she began. Steve stared at her and waited for her to elaborate. She took a deep breath. TELL-THEM YOU CAN. 

Steve continued to stare at her quizzically. She was learning all the grammar and shit, and he was still on vocabulary. 

MY FRIENDS…YES? He guessed, trying to mimic the one sign he couldn’t remember the meaning to. She shook her head. 

C-A-N, she clarified. Steve thought about it. YOUR FRIENDS LOVE YOU, she continued, slower this time. SHOULD KNOW.

Steve sighed. He’d been avoiding Dustin a lot more these last few weeks, because he knew the smartass would figure him out in seconds. 

Steve sighed, knowing Robin was right. 

O-K, he agreed. 

Dustin took it well. He had a lot of questions, but most of them Steve didn’t know the answers to. He quickly decided he would also learn some signs to support Steve. The support made Steve feel so relieved, he told all of his other friends. Well, he told the kids. Max. El. Will. Mike. Lucas. El and Will were planning on moving to California pretty soon with Jonathan and Joyce, so El decided it would be good for her to practice writing letters to Steve, since she’d be doing long distance with Mike and all. Lucas and Mike also made an attempt at learning signs, but they were even shittier at it than Steve was - which honestly made Steve feel even better. They treated it like a secret code they all were learning - kind of like the weird phrases they insisted on saying whenever they used the walkie talkies.

It was all very cute. 

Since Steve wasn’t in school, he ended up practicing sign language during most of his free time. It felt good to be doing something for himself. It made him feel smart, and he didn’t feel smart that often. Robin also picked it up pretty fast, which was to be expected. 

But then, all of a sudden, school was starting again, and everyone was busy. Steve continued to work and study ASL, but he didn’t have as many shifts with Robin. He would drive the kids to school and to their clubs and stuff, but it was impossible to communicate with a bunch of kids in the car. He went on dates, but the talking part of it all didn’t really work out. He wasn’t connecting with anybody, and he couldn’t understand them half the time. Plus, most of his date spots required loud noises - movies, sports games, etc. He’d go out with women, and he’d have a decent albeit exhausting time trying to keep up, and then sometimes they’d have sex, but if he was being honest - he wasn’t even really enjoying sex as much anymore.

Crazy, right? He couldn’t believe it either.

He was isolated, but getting by. He kept spending down-time at work watching videos about sign language that he’d borrowed from the library, and everywhere he went he tried to think of the sign for what he saw. TREE. CAR. LIGHT. RESTAURANT. BICYCLE. HOUSE. BOOK. STORE.

Eventually, it all started coming together. 

-

It was October - Halloween season. Considering what had happened last Halloween, Steve wasn’t too thrilled about it. Neither were some of the kids, primarily Will and El. Times had been tough for El especially after losing Hopper, and Steve knew that. It seemed like she had a decent support system though. Jonathan’s mom had taken her in, and she was dating Mike as well. She’d be okay, Steve hoped.

Then came the big moving day for the Byers and El. Steve had to admit he was a bit jealous. He’d wanted to get out of Hawkins forever, but now he had Dustin and Robin tying him there. 

Jonathan got to escape this town and he was dating Nancy? Such bullshit. 

Not that Steve was pining over Nancy anymore. He’d always love her, in a way, but he’d moved on. They didn’t work together, and that was that. Over and out, as the kids would say on their stupid walkie talkies. 

Anyway, El may have been alright, but Steve had his doubts about Will. He didn’t really know how to broach the subject, but he noticed that when he picked the kids up, Will was usually pretty quiet. 

An outsider, kind of like Steve.

So, when moving day arrived, Steve offered to help. He knew that Nancy and Jonathan would be there and their farewells would be a whole thing he had no interest in being around for, but he was pretty strong and he could carry boxes and help the kids, at least.

But when he showed up, he saw Will in the backyard by himself. Steve gave a small wave, then slowly approached the kid and sat down beside him. 

WHAT’S-UP, Steve signed. It was one of the signs he taught all the kids. Will shrugged. Steve watched Will intently as he waited for his response.

“I don’t want to move,” Will said. “I like my house. And my friends.” Will caught himself, realizing he knew an applicable sign, then added FRIENDS. Steve smiled.

UNDERSTAND, he replied. That was another sign he taught the kids. “This sucks.”

“How do you sign that?” Will asked. “That it sucks.” 

Steve knew that one, obviously. He knew a lot of signs now, but that was one he used a lot. He brought the tip of his pointer finger to his chin and frowned. Will repeated the action, then raised his eyebrows. Steve nodded in approval. Will’s hands dropped back into his lap, and the forlorn look on his face came back.

“I guess I just -” Will began, averting his eyes from Steve and staring in the distance. “They’re gonna forget about me here. They’re already -” He sighed. “It feels like I’m being left behind, even though I’m the one leaving.” Steve nodded gently, understanding the feeling all too well.

Will was the member of the party Steve had interacted with the least, probably because the other kids were a bit - uhhh - louder. Dustin and Steve were like brothers, Lucas and Steve could talk about basketball, El and Max were by no means close with Steve but he still felt like a surrogate older brother to them, and Mike was - 

Okay, Mike and Steve didn’t really get along. That was to be expected, considering everything. They weren’t mean to each other or anything, they were just awkward and mildly annoyed with each other most of the time. 

Will was different. Steve had been filled in on what happened to Will through Dustin, and it was - well, yeah. Will had it rough. And no one ever really talked about it. It was like, Will went through this whole traumatic thing, but he was back to “normal” now, so everything was fine. But it wasn’t fine, and he was getting sick and tired of pretending it was.

Whoops. Okay. Maybe Steve was connecting with Will more than he anticipated he would. 

That was probably where a lot of the disconnect came from with everyone in Steve’s life except for Robin. The two of them had been tortured together for hours underground. Steve got the brunt of it. And they were drugged and threatened and nearly killed dozens of times. But they escaped and got out and then they were fighting a giant monster and fireworks were going off and then people died and there was no space for Steve to talk about what had happened to him. 

He probably needed a therapist, but if he saw a shrink his dad would never let him hear the end of it. Besides, how could he explain any of his trauma to them? He couldn’t talk about it with anyone except his close group of friends, and he didn’t want to burden them with it, so he just…didn’t talk about it. 

Steve wanted to say so many things to Will, but he also felt like he had no right to give any advice on friends or happiness. Steve had left the majority of his friends behind, willingly, and he didn’t regret it, but he also was sad about it. He missed it in some weird, fucked up way he couldn’t explain. Especially Tommy. God, all they did was argue and get in each other’s faces, but they knew each other better than anyone else. The best and the worst of it - mostly the worst, though.

“Well, I won’t forget you,” Steve said, hoping the reassurance would provide some kind of comfort. 

“You don’t know me,” Will replied. “And don’t you hate my brother?”

Oof. Valid argument, but still. Steve’s thoughts on Jonathan were…complicated, to say the least.

“I don’t hate him,” Steve responded. “And your brother isn’t you.” 

When Steve spoke, he tried to translate it in his head. It had become a habit. HATE DON’T. YOU, YOUR BROTHER, NOT-SAME.

He was getting pretty good at the sign language thing.

“I’m probably just going to sit out here and be sad,” Will said with a shrug. 

“Okay,” Steve replied. “Is it okay if I sit here and be sad too?”

Will turned to Steve, confused at first, but then his face relaxed into something different. He nodded. 

Everyone inside seemed to be doing just fine without them, anyway.

-

The Byers (and El) moved to California. Lucas, Dustin, and Mike joined Hellfire club, which they were really excited about. The first few times Dustin had told Steve about it, the dipshit was so excited Steve only got like half of what he was being told. For example, he thought the boys were getting ready to drink champagne for the first time or something, which was weird, but whatever. Kids are weird. And then later he realized they were preparing for a campaign.  

They had shirts. Steve recognized the shirts. Then, it all made sense.

He’d heard of Hellfire before. They were kind of hard to miss. They were the exact opposite of cool, even though Dustin seemed to think that wasn’t the case. An underground sort of cool, he’d explained. 

Yeah. Sure, buddy.

Steve knew from his years at Hawkins High that those guys were not treated with any sort of respect. The only popularity they had was the negative kind. People knew who they were, and they stayed away. They were weird.

At the same time, Steve wasn’t surprised the boys had joined. It was a Dungeons and Dragons club, after all - Of course, Steve didn’t actually make that connection until Dustin had made him aware. He wasn’t sure what he thought Hellfire did back when he was in school, but it certainly wasn’t a nerdy roleplaying game. They gave off a different vibe. Like, a chaotic anarchist kind of vibe. Most of Steve’s perception came from the guy who led it - Eddie Munson, the school freak. That’s what they called him. Steve and Eddie had never really interacted, because why would they have? They were both seniors when Steve graduated, but Eddie was a year older. And he still hadn’t graduated. 

Tough deal.

Anyway, Dustin was obsessed with Eddie. He worshiped the guy, basically. And Steve couldn’t help but be a little jealous - not that he’d ever admit that, of course. But Dustin was around Eddie more often, and they could talk about things they enjoyed freely and without having to stop every ten seconds to repeat themselves.

So, yeah. Steve was bitter about it. 

He usually picked the kids up from Hellfire after school, because the “champagnes” (no, they never let Steve live that one down) sometimes went pretty late. Plus, Steve was the wheels in most circumstances - he drove Robin to school every morning, too.

He was probably at Hawkins High more often than he had been when he attended the damn school. 

Anyway, one night in particular, Steve waited outside the drama club room for Lucas, Mike, and Dustin to walk out and hop in the car like they always did, but they were running late. 

Again. Oh, joy. 

Steve parked the car and headed inside, only to find everything packed up (thankfully), but everyone was still absorbed in conversation. 

Steve couldn’t follow. They were all talking over each other and about things that he didn’t really understand well in the first place. Plus, there was music playing in the background, which muddied everything else in his brain. So, he waited and watched them interact. And then everyone was looking at him, and he didn’t know why. 

“What?” Steve asked, totally lost. He turned to the boys, who all tried to explain what Steve had missed in their own way. Steve caught them flashing a few signs his way. JOKE. IGNORE. HE DON’T-KNOW. 

Ehh, Steve kind of pieced it together. Eddie probably made some sort of comment about how awkward Steve was being without knowing why. It was probably for the best that Steve didn’t hear it. Instead, he turned to Eddie so he could share what was going on. 

But then, Eddie signed to him.

YOU DEAF?

Steve’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. He nodded. YOU SIGN?!

MOM DEAF, Eddie explained. Before Steve had the chance to ask a follow-up question, Eddie answered one of them. MOM DEAD NOW.  Eddie turned away to face the boys, then pivoted back to Steve. BEFORE, COULD HEAR. RIGHT? HAPPEN WHEN?

Eddie’s signing skills seemed almost natural. Clearly he’d been doing it for ages. Steve nodded.

NEW, he explained. He was blanking on the sign for “recent” due to the fact that he was so stunned. MY SIGNING… Oh, God. Steve couldn’t remember how to say anything. He wanted to say that he was still learning, so he wasn’t that good. Instead, he did the universal hand gesture for “iffy,” which worked well enough. The boys and the other club members all watched this interaction in awe as Eddie processed this with a small nod.

O-K, Eddie replied. 

And that was it. Eddie went back to talking to the boys, and presumably dismissed them as they all scattered away to collect their bags. Eddie wasn’t even looking at Steve. 

That was kind of a bummer.

Up until then, Steve hadn’t met anyone else who signed (except for Robin), so this was kind of huge. At the same time, it was Eddie. Like, Steve had come a long way from his King Steve days, but the dude was a loose cannon. He was always drawing attention to himself and jumping on tables and shit. They had nothing in common, originally, but now they had two gigantic things in common - Dustin and sign language. 

Steve took the kids home as he usually did, but he didn’t even attempt to focus on what they were saying. Besides, he was still thinking about, well, everything.

A part of him was annoyed, because of course the other older brother figure for Dustin was cool enough to know sign language. Of course. The other part of him was over the moon. He had someone to talk to and practice with. Although, that was only if Eddie was interested, which he very well might not have been. Plus, it was also kind of against the rules of the school. The jock and the freak spending time together? It just didn’t happen. 

Then again, Steve wasn’t going to Hawkins High anymore. He could make his own rules. 

He couldn’t wait to tell Robin about all of this. She was going to lose her damn mind.

------------------

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[ladykailitha]

Oh For a Muse of Fire! Part 5

This is for @goodolefashionedloverboi and @zerokrox-blog who while I was writing this said the same thing Robin does in this in the comments of part 3. “Eddie this isn’t high school anymore, shut up!!” LOL! Thanks for the laughs, guys.

Also originally I had a darker meeting with Joyce (she tells him that if something else happens involving him {the fight with Michelle and the seizure being the first two strikes} he be out of the class) but then I realized Joyce would never. So she didn’t.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

*

Robin’s feet ached as she makes her way to her apartment. Diamond worked the bar to help Opal out, but Steve was missed. Diamond could tend and often did, but it didn’t have the flare Steve did when he slung drinks. Not that Opal was bad either, but again...she was biased and she missed her Steve.

She was so focused on getting home that she nearly ran someone over in her rush.

“Oh shit!” she said, trying to untangle herself from the poor person.

“Buckley?” a voice above her asked.

She looked up to see Eddie holding her up to keep her from falling to the ground.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Robin asked as she finally got her feet under her. “If you followed Alice and Steve back here, I’ll call cops. Don’t think I won’t.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he said holding his hands up in surrender. “For starters I live it that building over there.” He pointed at the building across from her and Steve’s apartment. “I moved in last month.”

Robin eyed him suspiciously. “You aren’t here to harass Steve?”

Eddie frowned. “When did you get so far up King Steve’s ass? I knew you in band, you hated him as much as I did.”

Robin put her hands on her hips. “Look, yes Steve was an ass in high school, but he changed. And you don’t get go throwing the past in his face. It’s been five years, man. Let. It. Go.”

Eddie shrugged. “You have that girl take Steve back to your apartment because Loch Nora is too far away?” At her blank expression. “You know when you insinuated that I followed him here?”

Robin frowned. “Steve and I live together...” she said slowly as if she was talking to an idiot.

“I didn’t think Harrington was your type, Buckley,” he said, raising an eyebrow knowingly.

“He’s not and he knows that, too,” she defended.

“We are talking about the guy who slung the slurs ‘queer’ and ‘fag’ around like his stupid baseball bat, right?” Eddie growled.

“It’s been years!” she bit back. “Let. It. Go.”

Eddie just threw his arms in the air. “Whatever, I need to get home.” And he stalked off toward the building he said was his.

Robin watched as he ran up the stairs, biting her lip. She was going to have to tell Steve about their new neighbor.

Fuck.

*

Robin opened the door to their apartment to see Steve on the couch reading, the only light on in the place is the lamp above him.

“Shit, the seizure cause a migraine?” she whispered as slipped out of her coat and shoes.

He nodded and set the book down. “So it’s a good thing I got you to call me in.”

She nodded and sat down next to him. “I missed you.”

Steve nodded and curled up against her side. “I called Dr Thompson and set up an appointment. I shouldn’t be seizing after just one missed dose.”

“Yeah,” Robin agreed, threading her fingers through his hair. “It really scared me.”

“I’m glad you were there,” he murmured. “Did Joyce call you?”

She sighed. As much as she would like to lie and tell him yes. He needed to know the truth. “It was Eddie.”

Steve huffed a bitter laugh. “I guess he’s not a complete ass. He just doesn’t like me.”

“Yeah, well,” she grumbled. “He also lives in the building across from us.”

Steve straightened up to look her in the eye. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Yup!” she said, popping the P. “Met him outside just now.”

He cuddled back up to her side. “I just have to last six months and then I’m gone.”

“I’ll beat him up if he says anything to you,” she growled. “I swear it. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the stress of him being an ass was what caused your seizure.”

Steve sighed heavily. She was probably right was the problem. Dr Thompson was going to ask about stressors and Eddie Munson was going to have to go on the list.

She stroked his hair until he fell asleep against her.

*

Eddie didn’t have band practice the next night, so he offered to pick Chrissy up from work. Which she gratefully accepted. When he pulled up to the bar, standing next to her was a large, burly man in a white pinstripe suit. He looked like the comic book character the Kingpin come to life. The only thing he was missing was a gigantic cigar to chew on.

When Eddie pulled up to the curb, Chrissy waved at the man before climbing in.

As he pulled out of the parking lot he asked, “Who was that, then?”

Chrissy smiled. “That’s my boss, Diamond. He’s really nice. Sometimes if it’s too dark, he’ll walk me to the bus stop and stay with me until it comes.”

Eddie nodded. “Seems like a nice guy.”

Chrissy nodded. “They’ve all been great. Although apparently I haven’t met the weekend bouncer, Onyx and he’s not so nice.”

He hummed. “Well, he wouldn’t be a very good bouncer if he was nice.”

She laughed. “That’s what Garnet said.”

“Garnet is the guy you’re training to take over for?” Eddie asked, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the music in his head.

Chrissy grinned. “He’s really nice. And despite the silly rule of not knowing who we are outside of work, he still really close with most of the crew.”

Eddie grinned back. “So a real mother hen, huh?”

Chrissy shrugged. “I mean, I guess. I think the only reason he hasn’t offered to drive me home after work is that Diamond would frown on it.”

He licked his lips slowly. “I’m glad you got this job, sweetheart. It seems like you’re going to do great.”

They were silent in the van for awhile.

“Oh!” Chrissy said suddenly. “You have to come to open mic night!”

Eddie deflated. “A posh place like The Queen’s Crown isn’t going to want to listen to a bunch of washed up metalheads.”

Chrissy pushed at his shoulder. “Apparently lots of big name bands have gotten their start at The Queen’s Crown. What harm would it do to try? You get up there, play three songs, and leave. And maybe, just maybe Diamond will pick Corroded Coffin for one of his fancy gigs where actual fucking music producers show up.”

Eddie pulled over to the side of the road to look her in the eye. “Come again?”

Chrissy rolled her eyes. “Open mic night is one Saturday a month. And from that list of ten or so bands and solo artists, he picks three to show up and do a full set in front music producers. Not everyone gets a record deal, but they all get a chance.”

Eddie let out a shuddered breath. “Holy fuck, Chrissy.”

She kissed his cheek. “I thought you’d like that. Which is why I signed you guys up for the next one.”

Eddie blinked at her for a moment and then threw his arms around her tightly. “You’re the best!” He kissed her cheek. “Why didn’t we work out again?”

Chrissy laughed, pushing him off her. “Because I’m gay?”

Eddie laughed, too. “Oh, yeah. That’s right.” He grinned at her and then pulled back into traffic to take her home.

*

Steve showed up early to the next class as requested. He was so nervous. He was really worried that she was going to kick him out of her class. He was keeping his head down and his mouth shut. He didn’t want to take a summer class, because then he wouldn’t graduate in June and he’d lose his student teaching position.

Joyce waved him in. “Come in, come in.”

Steve shuffled in and closed the door behind him. He walked up to her desk.

“Pull up a chair,” she instructed.

He pulled out one of the stools and straddled it. “You wanted to speak to me?”

Joyce nodded. “How are you doing?”

Steve shrugged his shoulders. “I’m okay, I guess. I have an appointment with my neurologist next week to discuss what happened.”

She laced her fingers together and placed her hands on her desk. “How long has this been going on?”

Steve didn’t want to say, but she leveled her mom stare at him and he folded. “Since my second concussion about seven years ago.” And then silently begged her not to do the math.

But she did it anyway. “Ah. From your fist fight with Jonathan.”

Yup. Her oldest son had one hell of a right hook. “I’d rather you didn’t tell him that I have seizures because of that fight. He doesn’t need the guilt.”

She tilted her head and sighed gently. “You say it was your second concussion. When was your first?”

Steve cleared his throat and looked down at the floor. “When I was about one years old, my mom accidentally dropped me and I was rushed to the hospital. My neurologist tells me that when Jonathan hit me he knocked loose something from that first injury that caused the seizures and the migraines.”

“Oh, Steve...” she murmured. “That’s awful. I wish you boys would tell me what you were fighting over.”

Steve licked his lips. Yeah. He was going to take that little secret to his grave, thanks. The last thing he was going to tell Joyce, especially now that she was his teacher was that Steve had hit him when he caught Jonathan taking pictures of girls undressing. And Jonathan had hit back harder.

Him and Jonathan made up later. Steve got him to agree to never do that again, and he wouldn’t tell his mother that her sweet boy was a pervert.

Joyce shook her head. “Are you able to continue the class?” she asked after several long moments of awkward silence.

Steve nodded. “It was a fluke thing. I’ve had a lot of changes in my life recently and it activated my epilepsy. My doctor will probably adjust my dosage for awhile and then I’ll be back to normal.” He cocked his head to the side. “Or as normal as I get.”

Joyce nodded. “If you need anything let me know. I want to see you do well in this class.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I do too.”

She looked up at the clock. “All right, it’s about time for class to start, so go ahead and sit down. I’ll open the door.”

Steve got up and went to his seat. He watched as the other students filed in. That had gone better than he hoped it would. Robin would tell him that it was just his anxiety talking when he got like this. Didn’t stop his brain from filling in the worst doom’s day scenarios, though. 

Part 6  Part 7  Part 8 Part 9  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12 Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17 Epilogue

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[cease-your-release]

"You Mean The World To Me." (SFW)

Following a hard day at work, you and Copia retreat to your shared bath to unwind. (Fluff, 5,581)

Content warning(s): It gets a little suggestive, maybe?

I’m fighting off what I think is a stomach bug, so my proofreading skills aren’t top notch at the moment… technically I did but how much good is that when your vision is blurred from a migraine?

Also on Ao3!

Smut version here

You stand in the en-suite bathroom that you share with your partner, Copia, leaning over the wall of the tub to continuously adjust the water that flows from the tap.

The both of you had, quite frankly, horrible times at work, at least in terms of the work itself. Copia, in his tasking role as Papa Emeritus, had been especially swamped with forms to fill out and meetings to attend, which meant he was either confined to his office in frustrated silence or rushing to where the next conference would be held. He had always made time to see you, or at least call if physical presence wasn’t an option, but today there was absolutely no way he could fit it in. That’s how you knew something was off, but it wasn’t as if you could dwell on it for too long, because you were trapped under your own workload. Yours were much more body-oriented, legs weary and sore from the way they carried your tense body up and down the halls while taking things (which, of course, were not as light as you would have liked) to be delivered to wherever the Heaven you were going. By the end, both of you wanted nothing more than to collapse into the arms of the other, but once you two saw the state of your counterpart, your caretaking instincts kicked in.

“You start the bath, tesoro. Make it as hot as you’d like for those aching bones, huh?” Copia had told you before taking to the sink to deal with his papal paint, which by that point had faded and smudged from the amount of times he had mindlessly rubbed it in his stress. You had spaced out somewhat, and therefore didn’t notice when he disappeared into the main room, but you also didn’t have the energy to worry about it. The curiosity was short lived, however, as he came back only a few minutes later with a pile of folded clothes- pajamas, you gathered- and an armful of scented candles.

You move to help him set everything down, despite his protests, and together you arrange it all accordingly. Before you know it, a handful of subtle relaxing scents fill the room, the dim, warm light from the dancing flames only enhancing the mood.

While you’re doing that, the tub fills, and then you can finally partake in the hot water.

Copia steps in first, then turns back and holds out his hand to you. “Shall I help you in, then?” He asks, and it’s clear he rushed ahead just to be able to do so.

Amusement washes over your expression, which he grins at, and you place your hand in his before joining him. You both sit down, settling with his back to the wall and you facing him, sitting over his lap. “Is the temperature alright? Not too hot?” You ask, running your hands over his shoulders. Even after all this time of sharing the bath, you still can’t help but worry about that aspect.

“It’s just right, amore.” He responds with a sigh at the faint massage. The warm water surrounds both of you, and he leans back against the wall of the tub with a relieved groan. “I can’t explain it to you, but this is what I want right now…” He raises his hand, bringing it to rest upon your cheek. His thumb runs along your bottom lip, tracing the shape. “This… this is good. Everything right now is just wonderful…”

Your lips part under the pressure, then lightly kiss the finger against them, which gets a somewhat flustered smile from him. “Mm… how does your stomach feel?” You slide your palms to his abdomen, which is completely submerged in the bath..

Heavy stress would often lead to a feeling of nausea for him, which the bath could sometimes help with. It definitely didn’t hurt that you were with him, either.

Copia’s eyes flutter, and his lips part for a few seconds before answering. “It’s… much better right now, actually.” He tilts his head, and reaches over to rub your thigh. “And how does my baby feel? Are your legs still tender?”

You can’t help but beam at the name, followed by a deep sigh at his touch. “A little, yes. But that’s to be expected after such events, right? I’m just thankful I can still walk, really.”

“Of course, you’ve done a lot. I can’t believe you’re still so willing to take care of me once it’s all over…” He leans over to place a kiss on your collarbone, sliding his hands to give your thighs a caress. “Sei incredibile..” He moves his lips to just over your throat, and you can feel his touch traveling over your legs. “Are you ready, tesoro?”

You nod slowly with a laugh, a slight tickle caused by his kisses, your arms rising to hold yourself up by the wall of the tub. “Mhm, if you aren’t too tired for it.” You respond, leaning back and lifting your hips so he can reach more of you. “Oh, your hands are lovely..” You’re trail off into a silent groan at his touch, finding the prolonged tension has resulted in a noticeable tightness of your muscles, which were being soothed by the water and his hands..

“Look at you, amore mio.” He hums, watching and feeling the way you move under his touch, pressing his hands into your thighs and kneading the flesh. “Your skin is so soft,” His lips brush against your neck, leaving behind a trail of kisses as they go down towards your shoulder.. “but you are so tense.”

A sigh escapes you at that- his massage and words. “Oh, you know how it is.” Soon enough, he gets to a particular problem area, which pulls a noise from you. “A-ah!”

Copia’s body jerks at the sound, and he gasps. “Amore, I don’t think you understand how much-” His concern is cut short when your hands return to his shoulders, fingers working his tightened muscles just as he is with yours. “Ancora, per favore..”

“F-fuck..” You bite your lip and squeeze your eyes shut at the sensation of his touch, feeling your tension slowly melt away. You start kissing his neck like he did yours.

His eyes flicker with each kiss that lands on him, paired with subtle whines when your hands get to the especially tough spots. “Caro Satanas..” He holds you close for a few seconds, digits curling around and pushing into your calves, before relaxing slightly and leaning back against the wall. It almost feels like you’re one in the same- your bodies move in tandem, your hands relieving the other. “Don’t stop, baby, please.”

You grin against his skin, noticing the slump, and shake your head shortly. His breath hitches, lips forming a small ‘o’ shape while a shiver jumps through his spine.

“I won’t, don’t worry.” You reassure before moving to the other side of him, kissing there too. Copia’s fingers grip your legs, and his motions gradually increase in reaction to yours- they’re not fast, however. He’s so slow, so gentle with you, that you can tell he’s putting just as much effort into it as you are.

“You’re amazing at this, you know that? I- oh!” Your words are cut short with a groan, a result of him reaching another area of tightness.

After taking a moment to recover, you pull back and bring a hand up to his cheek, tilting his head to face you. You take in the sight of his love-drunk expression: dazed and half-lidded eyes that dart around your frame, lips parted under deep breath, and a lovely light flush that accents his sparsely freckled skin. “Pretty boy~” You coo, then press a tender kiss to his lips, one very calm and clement.

He looks at you for a few seconds and kisses you back, soft and slow, just like before. He eventually pulls away and meets your gaze. “You and I, tesoro, are amazing together. I’ve never felt so comfortable around anyone before, a-and- cazzo -We are like… one, but still our own persons…” He glances down at where his palms and fingers press into your flesh for a second before looking back up to you. “I need you..”

You smile at his profession and he pulls you chest-to-chest, groaning and sighing. “More of me? You can have as much as your heart desires, darling.” Comes from you in a whisper, a bit breathless. You lean in and allow your lips to trail his jaw, not quite reaching his neck. Then, you mumble something: “Meus es.”

The handful of Latin you picked up from mass sometimes pays off in some of these moments- it is called "romance language", after all.

“You called me yours…” He thinks. “I don’t want any more of you, caro, I want all of you.” He presses his lips to yours shortly, and smooths one hand over your skin, up towards your hip. “Questo è perfetto…”

“Mm, well, I’d say you have that already.” You respond before returning the kiss. You slip your hands underneath his arms and to his back, massaging what you can reach there. “My heart is so full of you, I can hardly call it my own.” You whisper into his ear.

Copia lets your words sink in, and he could swear he feels his own pulse beat to the pace you two move at. “I love you, dolce mio, more than I’ve ever loved anyone before.”

“I know, sweet boy-” You start to say, but are interrupted once again. “Ah, Copia, right there..” You bury your face into the crook of his neck, somewhat panting while he works on your hips.

He gladly obliges, right up until you find his own sweet spot between his shoulder blades. “Oh, tesoro, I- cazzo!” He gets out in a groan.

After roughly another minute of that, you both slowly stop and your hands come to rest on the skin of the other. His hold on you loosens, and one reaches up to pull your face to his. Before you can process it, he presses mouth to yours in a tender kiss.

“I love you.” Is the silent message between you two, only broken by the sound of breathing and the soft smacks of your lips connecting.

You return the kiss with just as much gentleness, and curl your arms around his waist. “The water’s so hot that now we’re all sweaty… What do you think about a shower?” Then, you glance down at your bodies, the perspiration beading from them. “But we’ll have to drain this water first.”

Copia nods, eyes half closed. “Yeah, that’s a good idea…” There’s a hint of concern on his face when he looks at you, his voice matching. “Are your legs alright? I don’t want to push you to walk if you’re too sore.” He says, moving to lightly rub one of your thighs again.

You smile at his question, and lean in to press a couple of kisses to his cheeks. “It’s positively adorable how much you care for me, sweetheart.”

“Thank you for the compliment, dolce mio, but I’d be doing a horrible job if I didn’t care for you like that.” He replies, accented by slight giggles when your lips reach his skin.

“I should be alright to stand for a shower, at least. If nothing else, I may just have to lean on you when it comes time to get back to bed.” You explain, then turn around and start towards the other side of the tub.

He sighs at the loss of your warmth. “And I’ll be right there beside you. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” A smile pulls at his lips after a second of thought. “It could be quite a nice moment, actually…”

You pull the plug from the drain, then stand with a grunt of effort, water falling and dripping from your figure. You shake some from your hair, though most of it may actually be sweat. “Oh, of course it would..” You remark with a grin. “My big strong man, hm?” You tease, helping him up to his feet as well.

“Oh, amore mio…” Copia watches you stand, eyes teeming with nothing short of admiration, and smiles at you as if you had used his favorite pet name. Once he’s up, he leans in for a faint hug, not seeming to mind the lack of clothing between you. You don’t either, since the temperature of your bodies is- quite literally -warmly welcomed after the chill of removing yourself from the water. “I will never let you fall…” He whispers into your ear.

You reciprocate the embrace, closing your eyes and pressing your forehead to his. “You’re very sweet, Copia. Thank you.” You mutter in response, then press your lips to his nose quickly. Slipping your hands away, you turn around and bend over enough to start the shower tap.

He chuckles at your words and kiss, but when he sees you bend over his eyes widen and a flush rises. He can’t help but get distracted, though fears that if he looks for too long he’ll just be staring. “Vale, caro mio… d-do you prefer if I look away?” Even as he asks the question, you can see him stealing glances at you.

You peek back at him, and swiftly turn your gaze back to the knobs. Though, it’s more to hide a growing smirk. Seeing him get so nervous about your body never really gets old. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, right?” You respond, then stand upright.

“I… well…” The words don’t quite make it past his throat, and the blush grows on his cheeks. “I would just.. Feel bad if you found me staring, I-..” His voice drops to a whisper. “I think you look absolutely gorgeous, even from this perspective.” While he speaks, you feel a pair of hands on your waist.

You quickly look back at him over your shoulder and place your hands over his, thumbs running over the backs of his palms.

“Let me help you?” He asks in a mutter.

“Are you sure about this? Don’t push yourself, darling.”

He lets out a chuckle. “I’m not pushing myself,” He smiles and squeezes your hips, making his intentions quite clear. “but I appreciate your concern, amore.”

Before you can say anything else, he presses his face to your neck and starts to kiss along it, from your shoulder to just under your chin. And once he starts doing that, you can’t help but close your eyes and lean your head back, relenting. “Just take it easy, okay?”

Copia hums quietly- probably at the way you melted -before saying: “I’ll be fine, dear. I promise that loving you won’t break me.”

“Alright, I trust you- mm..” You angle your head to kiss his neck in return, and slide your hands up to caress his arms.

You feel him shiver, and he lets out a breathy groan that’s barely louder than a whisper. “I’ll never get enough of you, bello.” His grasp leaves your hips, and goes to your waist instead. At the same time, he slowly moves to kiss your back.

“Sweetheart, that doesn’t feel like helping me shower.” You comment lightheartedly.

“I know, just, eh.. give me a minute, schricchio?” His grasp tightens again, more reassuring and grounding than demanding.

Your eyes close, and you reach up to hold the shower bar for support. You can feel his hands working about you again, running his fingers over your waist, hips, thighs, and up to your shoulders and arms. It quickly builds into another gentle massage, pressure adding until you’re sighing and soaking up his touch all over again.

Occasionally, his hands brush your behind, which causes you to flinch- a little tense of the muscle is all, but even so, he notices. He laughs and presses more purposefully for just a second, all but groping you before returning to sweet little rubs. “You like it when I touch you there, don’t you?”

You chuckle in turn and roll your eyes.

Within some amount of minutes you’ve all but forgotten the original plan here.

“Oh, bene mio..” After a few moments, he leans in and kisses your face all over. “You look absolutely radiant..” He nuzzles your neck and whispers. “Ti amo così tanto.”

You’re snapped out of your trance, feeling his lips peppering your face. You smile, and try your best to reciprocate over your shoulder. “Mm… thank you, sweetheart.” You mutter, bringing a hand to his head and lightly scratching his wetted scalp. “I love you too.”

Copia hums when you touch his hair, and takes your hand. He kisses your fingertips, one by one, even the thumb. “There we go." He cups your face, then presses his lips to yours very gently. You can feel him breathe a sigh of relief, his face is absolutely flush - but not even because of what you just did, the sight of you truly affects him in such a way.

A slight giggle escapes you at his actions, and you sigh just as he did.

He peels away from your back, on the way getting a couple of soft pop sounds from his spine. Nothing painful, merely something par for the course at his age.

After a moment, you slowly stretch and roll your joints, which causes a deep sigh. “Satanas, my back, a-and legs…”

His eyes go wide at that.. “Are you okay?” He asks with concern, and you feel his hands grip onto you tighter. From his voice you can hear he’s genuinely worried. “Do I need to help you? Should I carry you? Are you hurt?” He asks quickly, the panic evident, along with a touch of shame. “What did I do? I was gentle, right?”

“Oh, honey, I’m fine!” You quickly reassure him, leaning in to kiss his forehead- though that produces another small noise of effort. “You were perfect, don’t worry. I meant it in a good way, they’re much better now.”

Copia lets out a breath of relief when he hears that. “Okay, good.” He says with a nervous chuckle, and kisses you back with a careful hug. “Can I have some rest on my love’s shoulder? I feel much better when we’re close.”

“After we shower, okay? The water’s been on this whole time, it’ll probably get cold soon.” You step away to retrieve a couple bottles of soap, handing one to him.

He nods and kisses you again, smiling. “Alright alright, no sleeping until we’re clean.” He looks down, which is when he gets an idea. “Here, let me help you with that first.”

You flush when you see him lower himself to reach, to wash your skin himself. “Oh, you don’t have to do… that…” But you know it’s no use. You bite your lip and look away, now a tad flustered.. “Thank you, I mean.”

“There’s no need to thank me.” He whispers, caressing your leg as he wipes you up.  He seems absolutely focused on this task, and you can tell he’s not unhappy about it, seeing him occasionally smiling up at you. He moves very attentively, even using a washcloth to make sure he gets it all. In his mind, that’s the least he could do- and it’s a nice way to see your face blush.

You can’t help the sigh that leaves you, because it feels somewhat like another massage to your weakened muscles. You watch from the corner of your eyes until it’s done, and run your fingers through his hair. “You’re very kind to me, my love.”

Copia laughs quietly and shakes his head. “You are amore mio, it’s only natural I take care of you. Just wait and see, it’s going to be my turn next, and I already know you’re going to treat me well, too.”

You smile at him, lightly scratching his scalp. “You know me, I can’t go a day without pampering you.”

He kisses the inside of your thigh, making your flush deepen, and lets out a small gasp. “Oh, you are so soft and smooth, it makes me want to kiss you everywhere…”

“Ah, but that will take a long time, and I want you to get in bed as soon as possible.” You respond with a subtle laugh.

He seems to consider your suggestion, and finally nods. “Alright, I will do as I’m told.” He kisses your other thigh and stands back up, although this time he wraps an arm around your waist and leans his upper half onto you. “Let’s get you cleaned and into bed, you hear?”

You smile at him and reciprocate the embrace. “Loud and clear, Papa.” You say with a giggle, then press your lips to his for a quick kiss before pulling back and getting started on your hair.

As you do that, he works on your back and neck very carefully with a cloth.

You hum at the feeling of him helping you wash the harder-to-reach areas, and look back at him. “Copia, there’s no need to be so gentle. I won’t shatter, you know that.” You reach behind yourself to press his hand a little more to your skin, the muscles tensing underneath his touch. “But… It does feel nice, and I appreciate it.”

“Oh, I know.” But he can’t help it. Your skin is so nice to him, and it makes him want to be gentle at all times. That, and the little scare from last time have a certain effect on how confident his strokes are. Even so, his fingers move a little more firmly on your back, gliding around at an even pace. “A-Am I doing alright?” He asks softly.

You nod, your eyes having closed after a few moments of him starting. “Mm… yes, you’re doing wonderfully.” Soon enough, you’re humming at the touch, somewhat resembling a purr.

Copia feels like his heart is overflowing with affection. You look delightful when he touches you, and you feel like pure bliss, like you’re the most precious flower in the world. He gets behind your ears with his free hand and speaks gently. “Just close your eyes, baby, enjoy it.”

You subconsciously try to lean into the touch, the tilt of your head making it noticeable that your lips are slightly parted. “That’s good…” You murmur, your tone on top of everything else making it clear that you may not be entirely aware at this moment.

His breath catches in his throat. He seems completely unaware of everything else- of the shower and all -as he leans forward and kisses you lovingly on the mouth. There’s so much love in his fingers and lips, you can practically feel and taste it.

Your eyes snap open, but just as quickly flutter shut, and you reciprocate. When you eventually pull back, you slowly open your lids, which reveals pupils blown wide. “What was that for…?”

He gives you a sweet smile. “Because I love you.” He says. He presses his palm against your cheek and caresses it, making sure you see his expression. He leans in close and whispers to you. “And because you’re absolutely bewitching tonight, you look so perfect..” He pauses. “..I want to kiss you forever.”

You exhale shakily at his touch, and nuzzle into his hand. “I don’t look any different than I usually do…” You remark, but his last sentence gets your attention much more quickly. Your gaze darts from his eyes to lips before you end up closing them again, then press a kiss to his wrist, which gets a quiet noise from him. “You could certainly try later, but we have to finish up here.”

Copia smiles gently. “And you’re absolutely stunning at all times, so I don’t see why I can’t kiss you whenever I want.” He gives out a small chuckle and a sigh. “I couldn’t have wished for anyone better.”

A smile spreads over your lips at that, and you pull his hand off of you to kiss the knuckles of it. “My turn to help you wash up?” You ask softly, looking at him with your mouth hovering over the back of his palm. “At least your hair, if you think it’s too much for me to touch your body.”

His hair is still dripping, and his eyes wander to your lips at your kisses. He’s snapped back into reality by your question, though, and clears his throat. “Your touch is never too much,” he whispers. “But… yes, just for now, honey.”

Your smile turns into an excited grin, and you waste no time in getting the shampoo into his hair. You turn him around so his back is to you, and begin gently working the soap into his scalp with your fingers. “You have such lovely hair..” You mutter, then lean down to kiss the back of his neck.

Copia lets out a little groan of relief and closes his eyes as you wash his hair, your words warming his heart. He really just loves listening to you speak. “Mm, you do too.” He whispers and leans his head back in an effort to receive more kisses.

You slowly trail your lips down to his shoulder, and rest your chin there. At the same time, you remove your hands from his head and have them come to rest on his upper arms. “I’m afraid it’s not as good as yours, love.” You press a quick kiss to his cheek before curling your arms around his waist, hugging him from behind.

He feels like he’s melting into you, like he might just lose focus and fall into a state of bliss. “I can’t believe it took me so long to meet you..” He mumbles.

“It didn’t take so long for us to meet as it did to realize we were meant for each other.”

He laughs slightly, and gives a short kiss to your forehead. “You’re right, and it was the best thing that could have happened to me.”

That was true enough. The two of you danced around your feelings like fools for a long while until, by some miraculous twist of fate, the fantasies from your mutual pining had all come to fruition.

“I-” His voice catches in his throat, bottom lip trembling slightly.

You give him a gentle squeeze to his torso, then reach up to slide your thumb along his bottom lip. “You’re shaking a little, are you cold? Come on, get under the water.”

Your touch draws his full attention. “Oh! Mmf- yes, it’s a little c-cold..” He smiles at you. “It’s nothing, no big deal.” He lies. Then he moves forward, stepping under the shower head.

You try to bite back a smirk that tugs at the corners of your mouth, noticing you must have flustered him. You don’t comment on it, only helping him rinse the soap out of his brown locks, accented with streaks of grey.

He then scrubs himself down, as do you, getting the areas that he didn’t earlier. Once that’s done, you take your turn in the water, letting out a deep groan as the bubbles slide down your frame with the warmth.

He watches them go, though has to tear his gaze away when it further exposes your skin. “Mmnh.. You seem to be enjoying yourself.” He sounds happy to see you relax.

You glance at him following the noise, but just as quickly return to the task. “It does feel rather nice…” You respond, just before finishing up. You lean over to shut off the tap, then squeeze some of the water from your hair. “Would you get the towels? I’ll help dry you off.”

He nods, and scans the space around him. “Alright, where are they..?” Before you can point out the rack on the wall next to him he turns, perks up, laughs, and says “Ah, here they are! I knew I wasn’t that blind.” He picks a few of them up, and wraps one around your body before beginning to dry you off, being particularly careful not to press on your back or legs too hard.

You smile at him, partially in amusement, and take a different cloth to lightly tussle his hair. “You know you don’t have to do that, love.” You say softly, but don’t make any real attempt to stop him.

Copia’s cheeks heat up at your touch of his hair. “I know I don’t have to, but I really do enjoy taking care of you.”

It isn’t very long before he’s done, though, and you start to dry him off in return, and he looks away with a flush forming.

“I like to see you smile…” He finally adds on, his words sounding like a shy admission. “so, it’s… it’s worth it.”

“You’re very sweet, you know that? I hope so, because I say it so much.” You finish with that and tie the towel around his hips, then you take another to continue with his hair, moving it about his head carefully. “It’s really nice when you do things for me. I’m still not quite used to it, honestly…"

He lets out a small chuckle. “Aww, really? It’s just a couple of small tasks, it’s not like I’m doing much.” He pauses, a grin growing while you work on his hair. “Do you actually like it that much? I feel like it’s nothing special…”

You nod. “Well, to you it may be small, but they mean the world to me.

“You mean the world to me.” He says, to which you can only smile at.

You eventually get done with his hair too, though it’s still a bit damp, and remove the towel. Then, you smooth it out a little with your hands, and use one to tilt his chin so his face meets yours. “Pretty boy…”

His gaze finds you when you tilt his head, eyes meeting yours once again, blinking quickly as he stares at you, his face heating up considerably. After a moment of silence, he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

You melt into it with a small noise- something between a surprised hum and a whine- and curl your arms around his torso in an embrace. When your mouths separate, you rest your forehead against his. “You are quite the romantic tonight, aren’t you?” You say with a slight laugh. “We should get to bed now, I want to hold you for as long as possible.”

Copia lets out a breath at the contact, something so simple yet so important. "Mm, you're one to talk," He smiles and shakes his head slowly. "you get so cute and love-y when you're exhausted." he whispers, then looks up at you and asks: "Is that what you want to do? Just hold me in your arms and relax? "

“Hey, I’m not exhausted, it's just that my legs are a little weak is all…” You remark in faux offense. “...and my back.” You add. “But, yes. I would very much just like to have you close to me for the rest of the night. It.. wouldn’t hurt to be caressed again either, I suppose.”

He sighs and smiles at you, an expression teeming with infatuation. "If you want me to pet you tonight- and any other night, for that matter -I'll do it as much as you want. Don't be afraid to ask." He hardly stifles a little laugh, and then continues. "Heh.. There's nothing wrong with being a bit of a cat. We can be quite purrfect together."

A loud laugh escapes you at that, and you playfully nudge him away. “Oh, you dork! That pun was horrible!” But the grin on your face says that you liked it.

He lets out a hearty chuckle, the sound of your laugh making him feel warm. "Ah, well.. at least I'm your dork." He caresses your cheek and gently strokes your hair. "You can make fun of me as much as you like, I don't mind if it makes you happy.. "

You reach up and hold his hands where they are to your face, closing your eyes and leaning into the touch. “I am not making fun of you, Copia.” You say quietly, and begin making your way out of the tub with his hand in yours.

The two of you retrieve the clothes he’d set out before, which are the most comfortable satin pajamas either of you own, a matching pair you had gotten him for an anniversary gift. He only uses his on the most necessary days, and you just prefer wearing yours along with him, so you followed that idea by extension.

“Come on, let’s get to that bed, hm?” You ask after haphazardly buttoning up your top, half of your chest still exposed.

While putting out the candles, he responds. “Well, wait, have you had dinner? At least let me-”

“We can still have food delivered, right?” Your voice cuts through his offer.

He pauses to think.

“Eh.. technically, yes…”

“Then lay down and relax with me, won’t you?” You ask with a laugh, admittedly amused by his efforts. You pull his hand up towards your lips to kiss the back of it, watching him.

He smiles wide and relents, resting his head on you as you two make your way out of the bathroom. “Sì, caro mio… Grazie.”

Translations (Kind of):

“Vale” : “It’s worth it”

[uvobreakmylegs]

With Greatest Care

Paku my queen❤️

Warnings: manipulation, isolation, mentions of death, brief mention of gore

Word count: 6.4k

A splitting headache in your skull was the first thing you were aware of when you awoke that morning, originating from your forehead and pulsating through your head. When you realized what was happening you groaned and buried your face into your pillow, like that would help in the slightest. This scenario wasn't uncommon, unfortunately.

Although it hadn't been happening quite as often recently, not even a year ago you were waking up to these sorts of migraines almost every other day. It usually meant that you needed to stay in bed for most of the morning as moving around too much would make you feel sick to your stomach and only make your miserable state even worse. As you had been through this many times by now, you knew that having a few painkillers and taking it slow in the morning, you’d be feeling better by afternoon at the latest.

But knowing that this would last for a few hours didn't make you feel any better in that moment. Especially since you and your girlfriend had plans today.

“Paku,” you moaned weakly, “I'm not feeling too....”

You trailed off as you pulled up from the pillow and found the spot next to you on the bed to be empty. Pakunoda was already up. You should have expected that. She got up early in general and would usually let you sleep in to a certain point.

You weren't excited to tell her about this. It brought back memories of when this had started, when you were only a few months into the relationship. So many days where you had woken up feeling like hell and poor Paku ended up being more like a caretaker than a girlfriend, and it made you feel bad that she would work so hard to take care of you and you weren't able to do anything in return.

As much as you felt you should get up so you could tell Paku about your condition, you stopped yourself. The last time this had happened and you went to tell her, you ended up getting up too fast and threw up on the sheets. Pakunoda needed to clean it up and you had never felt more like a burden than you did in that moment.

And as you checked the time, it was getting close to when Paku would come in and get you up if you hadn't done so yourself by then. Better to just wait for her to check on you instead of possibly making another mess that she'd be forced to take care of.

Just as expected, a few minutes went by and you heard the turn of the knob, the bedroom door swinging open and Paku saying your name as she checked if you were awake.

One glance over to her was all she needed to know what was going on.

“Oh no,” she said, “is it happening again?”

You weakly nodded.

“I'm sorry,” you said.

“Why are you apologizing?” Pakunoda asked.

She left the doorway, crossing over to the bed so she could sit next to you. Her hand went to your head and she began to stroke your hair.

“You can't help that you aren't well,” she added, “you'll get through this just like all the other times.”

“I hope so.”

Her hand was still on your head, still petting you. It didn't help with the headache in the slightest, but it helped to make you feel a little bit better.

“I feel like you end up taking care of me a lot,” you said.

“Well, that's part of the deal, isn't it? You don't feel well, so I take care of you. You'd do the same if I was in your position, right?”

“Yeah, but I've never seen you get sick or anything. I think you're the healthiest person I've ever met.”

“You make that sound like a bad thing,” said Paku.

“Because I feel bad that you're the one always taking care of me and I never do anything in return.”

Paku laughed a little at that.

“Now you're just being silly,” she said.

The hand stroking your hair stopped so she could rest it on your shoulder as she continued with “I'll get you a glass of water and some pain pills, and after that how about we see if you can stomach some breakfast.”

You nodded.

After giving you the pills that you washed down quickly, Pakunoda left the bedroom so she could whip up some breakfast for you.

You were able to eat half of it, and after that Paku insisted that you stay in bed and rest up.

Same as usual.

Not long after she left the bedroom, you noted that you could hear her voice. Was she talking to someone on the phone? That seemed most likely as you didn't hear any other voice aside from hers.

…. Was she complaining about you to someone?

You immediately wanted to slap yourself for thinking that. Paku wasn't like that. You knew that she cared about you and she wouldn't have stayed with you through everything if that wasn't the case.

Other people had talked about you behind your back. But Pakunoda wasn't like them.

Waiting for the painkillers to kick in, you tried to do as Paku had said and get some rest, but it would probably take a while before the aching in your head subsided enough to allow you to sleep. Until then, you were left to stare at the ceiling while you heard the sounds of movement coming from the other parts of the house.

Hearing Paku taking care of things around the house while you lay in bed brought back those feelings of uselessness. No, you couldn't help that you were sick, but no matter how much that point was brought up, you still felt badly for it.

And what made it worse was that you were planning on doing something with Paku today.

A cute looking restaurant had opened in the area recently, and after looking over their menu and the positive reviews, you wanted to take Paku there with you for a date, which she had happily agreed to. She had also made a request that the two of you stop by a makeup shop that she liked so she could get new lipstick, and since the makeup shop was close by to the new restaurant, it seemed like a good plan. The two of you were going to go out, get lunch, go look at makeup, possibly do a little more shopping and maybe get dessert after.

You'd been looking forward to that.

But now you were sick, so it was canceled.

And it once again reminded you of the things that had happened when you first started getting sick like this; a lot of canceled dates and days spent at home. Sometimes the two of you would watch movies or tv shows together if your headache was a bit more mild, usually resting your head on Paku's lap while you watched the screen. Little things like that made those days better, but you hated how sickly it made you feel.

Paku was so good to you, and all you'd been during that time was useless and sickly.

Please please please don't let that start again

Pakunoda got a sense of how you were feeling when she reentered the room to check on you, as she found you looking up at the ceiling with a depressed look on your face. She frowned when she saw you like that.

You looked over to her when she joined you on the bed, laying down next to you.

“Don't be so sad,” she told you, “we can go on our date another day.”

“It's not that – well, not just that.”

Pakunoda stayed quiet as you continued.

“I'm just scared it'll start up again,” you said, “I don't want to be in pain in the morning for no reason and spend hours at the hospital only to have the doctors tell me that it's 'probably' just stress.”

“That won't happen,” she reassured you, “this is just a one-off thing.”

“You're sure?” you asked.

“Positive.”

She reached over to pet your hair, her fingers going through the strands as she caressed you.

“.... Are you okay?” you asked.

Paku brushed some of the hair out of your face, her fingertips on your forehead as she replied with “what makes you ask?”

“You seem a bit sad,” you answered.

The edges of her lips turned upward in a small smile as she said “I don't think anyone can be all that happy when someone they care about isn't feeling well.”

“I need to hurry and get better, then,” you said, “I don't like it when you're sad.”

She chuckled a little before saying “just don't push yourself.”

Pakunoda moved in closer so she could wrap an arm around you, kissing your forehead before she told you to rest up. When exactly you fell back into sleep, you weren't sure, but you remembered that she was still laying next to you when you did.

A light shaking of your shoulder and a voice that softly called your name brought you out of sleep, and you found Pakunoda standing over you and dressed like she was going to go out.

“Something unexpected came up and I need to take care of some things. Will you be okay if I leave?” she asked.

You nodded.

“I'll be fine. Go do what you need to.”

“Alright. But before I leave, I want you to promise me something.”

“Yeah?”

“Promise me that you won't do anything stupid while I'm gone.”

“... What exactly counts as stupid in this situation?” you asked.

“Getting up and walking around when you're still feeling nauseous,” said Paku, “if you don't feel well, then I want you to take it easy. And definitely don't go outside.”

“I don't think I'm that sick, Paku,” you said.

“Do I need to remind you what happened last time?”

“.... No.”

“Then just promise that you won't push yourself and that you'll stay in.”

“Okay. I promise.”

Pakunoda smiled once you said that, and leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead.

“I'll be back.”

You said your goodbyes as Paku left the bedroom, and a short while later you heard as she left through the front door, the lock clicking shut after her.

Your migraine didn't feel quite as intense as it had when you first woke up, but you were still very far from feeling like you were okay. Doing as Paku had said, you put your focus on getting rest in the hopes that the migraine would go away while you slept.

Do as Paku told you and take it easy so you can get better.

And pray to whatever god might be listening that the trend of having almost daily migraines doesn't start up again. You hoped that Paku was right in it being a one-off thing.

Despite how easy it was to lose yourself in your worries, you did get back to sleep for a bit, periodically waking up for brief moments while the pain in your head slowly lessened.

All you really remembered in those moments was that Paku didn't seem to be back yet, still out doing whatever errand of hers had popped up while you were still alone. After realizing that, you would drift off again, not taking note of anything else.

Except one thing.

In the midst of your dozing, you were vaguely aware of the doorbell ringing, and after a moment of silence, someone knocking at the door. Whoever was at the door definitely tried more than once to get someone to come open it, but you couldn't say how long it lasted before they gave up. With the haze that your mind was in during that instance, you were able to do little else besides acknowledge the fact that someone had rung the doorbell before you ended up drifting back into a longer and deeper sleep.

It was late afternoon when you woke up, judging by the color of the sky that you could see through the window.

You felt a lot better. The pain in your head was gone, and though you felt a bit dizzy when you sat up, other than that you were fine.

Figuring that it was probably safe for you to do, you got out of bed and headed to the kitchen just to stretch your legs as well as grab a glass of water. Pakunoda likely would've wanted you to stay in bed a bit longer if she was here. You remembered the promise you'd made, that you wouldn't push yourself. And you weren't. While you were moving at a slower pace, you still felt okay, so there was no way to say that this was you pushing yourself.

After setting the glass down, you walked about the house a bit, eager to move about after spending such a long time laying down. As you walked, you wondered when Paku would be back. Did she say what time it would be? …. No, she just said she'd be back. It felt safe to assume that she'd be back before evening, so most likely at some point soon. Unless something else came up, in which case you needed to check your phone in case you had any messages.

You were about to head back to the bedroom when you glanced at the front door as you passed by, and you remembered that moment when you'd been in bed and you thought you heard the doorbell. Had that actually happened, or did you just imagine it? Tough to say, but now you were distracted from your goal of getting your phone from the bedroom as you went for the door, curious to see if there was any sign of someone having been there earlier.

If someone really had been there, you couldn't tell, as when you opened the door just enough to poke your head out, the front steps that lead to the walkway looked just as they normally did.

Seeing that wasn't surprising in the slightest, and you weren't sure what exactly you'd been expecting.

You were going to shut the door and head back to the bedroom when you caught sight of one of your neighbors across the way heading out to his mailbox. When he pulled out a stack of letters, you looked to the one in front of your house. Paku hadn't gone out too early, but it seemed unlikely that the mail had been delivered before she left. The mail carrier had recently been delivering a lot later in the day than you were used to.

You found yourself going back into the bedroom, grabbing a hoodie and a long pair of pants so you didn't look as much of a mess when you went outside. It wasn't like you ever got anything too important in the mail aside from bills, the rest of it usually being junkmail. But you were feeling a lot better, and although it was minor, grabbing the mail was something you could do so Pakunoda had at least one less thing to worry about.

The fresh air was nice, you noted when you first stepped out, and although you walked a bit slower than you normally did, you managed to make it down to the mailbox without issue. As expected, all you found was junkmail, and as you closed the box back up, you looked at your surroundings briefly. The only person you could see was a man on the other side of the street who was getting out of a parked car; not a guy you knew, so presumably a guest of one of your neighbors. And as for them, none of your neighbors seemed to be out at the moment. Probably a good thing; you didn't know that you were in the mood for a conversation at the moment.

With your goal accomplished and nothing to keep you outside, you made your way back to the front door.

“Have you had time to think about what I told you?”

A man's voice called out from behind you, and instinct had you turning around. The man from the car was now approaching you. He was older, maybe in his fifties, if you were to guess. The unkempt beard was what stood out most about him, but as you looked closer at the suit he was wearing seemed a bit ratty. The color of the suit wasn't too appealing either.

Although considering the messy state of your hair and the fact that you were the one wearing a hoodie and a loose pair of pants over your sleeping clothes, you probably didn't have much of a leg to stand on when it came to judging other people's appearances.

He stopped when he reached you, and gave you a pointed look as he asked “well?”

… What?

“.... I'm sorry?” you asked, your confusion evident.

“What we talked about yesterday; have you thought on it?” he asked.

“Talked yesterday?” you repeated, even more confused as you continued with “sir, I've never spoken to you before.”

Now he was the one who looked confused.

“You're kidding me, right? We spoke for half an hour yesterday,” he said.

What?

“No.... No we didn't,” you said, shaking your head.

“We did,” he insisted. His eyebrows were furrowed, like he was starting to get frustrated.

Did you have the strength to be able to run back into the house if this guy got mad enough at you? And were you jumping way too far ahead and assuming the absolute worst about this guy? Maybe, but seeing as you'd never seen him before and didn't know anything about him, it might be better to err on the side of caution. You didn't want to end up injured or worse because you stupidly thought that some stranger wasn't a threat to you.

“I really don't think we did,” you replied, taking a small step back.

“I told you, we spoke for half an hour,” he said, taking a step forward as he continued “we talked about your girlfriend and the lies she's fed you. We also talked about how your family wants to see you again. They're going sick with worry over you and all they want is for you to come back home.”

You went quiet after he said that, things falling into place in your mind once he mentioned your family.

“.... Did they hire you to come here?” you asked.

“That's not important.”

“That's a 'yes',” you said, sighing after.

So this was what they were resorting to now, huh?

After a moment, you answered firmly “my family doesn't care about me. They haven't cared for a long time, and I doubt that's changed.”

“Goddammit, you said the same thing yesterday,” he said, “they're paying me to find you because they want you to come back! I told you, they're worried about you.”

“No, they're not. Those people aren't capable of compassion; all they do is use others. So if they want me back, all it means is that they want something from me,” you said, “and whatever it is that they want me for, I don't want any part of it. So go back and tell them to stop wasting their time. I don't need them and I don't want to see any of them again.”

He was looking at you in disbelief now.

“You said the same thing yesterday,” he said.

“I didn't speak to you yesterday,” you reiterated.

“You did,” he insisted.

Then he added “your family was right; the amount of control she has over you is terrifying.”

The implication that Paku was controlling you made you upset as you replied with a defensive “Pakunoda isn't controlling me. She hasn't done anything except give me a happier life.”

He scoffed then.

“That bitch really has you wrapped around her finger, huh.”

Anger swelled in your chest upon hearing him talk about Paku in that way.

You'd had enough.

“Leave,” you said.

“Let me show you something.”

“Whatever it is I don't want to see it. Go away.”

“So you're not even going to think about what I've said?”

“What's there to think about? You've harassed me, admitted to being paid by my asshole family to hunt me down, and now you've insulted my girlfriend. Say what you want about me, but don't talk about Paku like that,” you said.

“Just look at-”

“No! Get the fuck away from here and don't come back. I don't want to see you ever again,” you spat.

You turned and headed back to the house, ignoring everything else he said while he called for you to hear him out, locking the door after yourself before you leaned back against it, trying to steady your breathing and calm down.

Emotions were building in you with a strong desire to punch something in an effort to vent out some of your feelings.

Of all the things they were resorting to now, this? Hiring someone to find you? So what, you could go back to the unhappy life you'd had with them?

No doubt that guy had his head filled with stories about Paku that your family had told him, making her out to be some terrible person who was manipulating you. That was what they'd tried to make you believe, and had been a major factor in you cutting them off. That, and a pile of resentment over the years that had been building up slowly before the dam finally broke.

You weren't going back to them.

Placing the mail on a small table next to the door, you found that you felt incredibly tired again as the adrenaline from the encounter began to wear down. Although you had been feeling better, getting worked up like that hadn't done you any favors.

Once more making your way to the bedroom, you collapsed on the bed, managing to pull the sheets over yourself before you closed your eyes again.

She wasn't happy with you.

You could tell when you woke up next and found Pakunoda in the bedroom with you, frowning when she saw that you were awake. Once you saw that look on her face, you immediately felt guilt wash over you.

“You told me you would stay in bed,” she said, holding the junkmail you had collected earlier, proof that you had been up and about. It was clear that she was disappointed with you.

“I'm sorry,” you began, “I wasn't feeling as bad so I wanted to help out a little.”

“I understand that, but you also promised me that you wouldn't go out.”

….. Ah. That had been something she'd told you. And you had promised that you wouldn't do that.

You really managed to forget that?

“I'm sorry, Paku,” you said. You stayed quiet after, worried that if you said anything else it'd come off like you were trying to make excuses.

After a moment, she let out a soft sigh.

“I don't have it in me to stay upset with you,” she said, placing the mail on the end table as she continued with “at least nothing happened.”

The second she said that, you remembered the incident with the man from earlier. Seeing Paku being disappointed in you had caused you to not think of it immediately, but now that you had, you felt yourself tensing up.

You needed to tell her.

Pakunoda clearly noticed your reaction as she asked “what's wrong?”

“..... My family hired a guy to hunt me down and take me back to them,” you said.

She blinked at that.

It probably wasn't the best move to just blurt it out like that, and you explained “he came here and spoke to me when I was outside. I think he was trying to make me leave with him.”

“He was saying awful things about you,” you added.

Pakunoda looked even more unhappy than she had been when you first woke up, frowning as she sat down next to you and took your hand in hers.

“Start from the beginning. What happened?” she asked. Her voice was calm, and the feeling of her hand holding yours made you feel a little bit better.

“I went out to get the mail,” you began, “and when I was going back inside he came up to me. And – it was weird. He was acting like we'd talked before. He even said that we'd spoken to each other yesterday. But that didn't happen, and I told him that it didn't happen, but he kept saying that we did. Then he mentioned my family.”

“He admitted that your family had hired him?” Paku asked.

“Yeah. At first he said that it wasn't important, but he did eventually admit it,” you answered, “but he kept going on about how we had spoken yesterday, but I stopped talking to him when he insulted you. I told him not to come back but if he's being paid to harass us, I kinda doubt he'll listen to me.”

A terrifying thought came to mind, and you squeezed her hand as you asked “do you think he's a Hunter? If he is, he can get away with taking people by force, right? What if he takes me when you go out again? If that happens, what can-”

Pakunoda shushed you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as she held you close.

“If he was a Hunter, I don't think he would've bothered speaking with you first,” she began, “based off what you've said, it sounds like he's some sort of private investigator and he was trying to make you go back willingly. The amount of trouble he'd get into for kidnapping someone wouldn't be worth it, so don't worry about that.”

You nodded. As usual, she was much better at keeping a clear head on her shoulders.

“As for your family, while this is new for them, I can't say it's entirely unexpected,” she continued, “all we can do about them is hope they give up on you eventually.”

“.... Do you think he's told them where we live?” you asked.

“Possibly,” Paku said, “but the good thing about being in a completely different country is that it won't be so easy for them to show up unexpectedly. Not without spending a lot of jenny on air travel.”

“Yeah. But still, maybe we should think about moving in case they do decide to come here,” you said, “I don't want to see them screaming at you again.”

“I know. And I don't want them anywhere near you.”

She pulled away slightly, putting both of her hands on your upper arms and squeezing lightly to calm you further.

Paku continued with “we don't need to go with the nuclear option right away. We can keep an eye out for anyone who looks like they're watching us and deal with them if we run into them. And if your family does show up, they can't make you go back with them. You're allowed to make your own decisions. They can't make you do anything.”

Then she kissed you before she hugged you, saying “everything will be okay.”

Despite how uncertain you felt in that moment, you nodded as you hugged her back. The idea of possibly being confronted by them again was scary, but at least you knew Paku would be with you if that were to happen.

“I really am sorry, Paku,” you said after a moment, “I hate being a burden on you.”

“You aren't.”

Pakunoda pulled away, cupping your cheek with her hand as she smiled at you.

“Everything will be fine,” she said, “and we'll always be together, right?”

You smiled back as you said “right.”

Paku glanced over to the largely darkened skies that were visible through the bedroom windows.

“We should start on dinner. You haven't had anything to eat since this morning, right?” she asked.

The instant she mentioned that, you felt the emptiness in your stomach and you nodded.

“Should I still stay in here?” you asked.

“I don't see much point in that if you're feeling well enough to walk around,” she answered, “might as well have you keep me company while I make us something.”

With that, she led you off the bed and out of the room, holding your hand as the two of you made your way to the kitchen.

And when she sat you down at the table and she saw the way you smiled up at her, Pakunoda felt secure.

There was no need to use Memory Bomb on you today.

As she began to put dinner together, she released the memories she'd collected of what you'd told her, letting go of the conversation you'd had with the investigator instead of putting them into one of her bullets to shoot into your head.

She'd needed to do it yesterday to get rid of everything that the investigator had told you, causing you to awake with a headache that morning.

Just like you, she also hoped that pattern wouldn't start up again.

It had begun early on in your relationship, when Pakunoda had quickly seen how suspicious your family was of her and how they were trying to subtly push you towards breaking up with her out of fear for your safety that she had decided to take action. Pakunoda had decided that she didn't want to lose you, so when she was able to convince you to move in with her, she began the process of altering and removing your memories of your family.

She made a point to take her time with it, carefully sifting through every memory of yours before she would return it to you by way of a bullet, which caused you to forget the memories that had been returned intact and replaced by the ones she'd fabricated. To make you more reliant on her and more willing to cut off your family, she'd gotten rid of almost all of your happy memories with them and altering the negative ones so they were even more egregious in your mind; things that to you, were unforgivable, and that the only reason you were still in contact was because of familial obligation.

The whole process took a period of several months as she worked her way through your memories. And while the amount of time spent hadn't been ideal, it was far safer than to try and change all of the memories in your head at once. Doing that could have disastrous consequences if she messed up.

She knew from experience: Pakunoda had done an experiment once to see how much of a person's memory she could take, and how much she could destroy by sending those memories back into that person. Back when she'd just gotten to the point of perfecting her hatsu, she'd captured a man and tied him up while she interrogated him on every aspect of his life, getting every single detail she could.

Those memories were placed into a bullet with the use of Memory Bomb. Much to her surprise, the multiple years worth of memories were able to fit into a single bullet. When she fired that bullet into his skull, the shock of the impact was so great that the chair he was sitting in was forced backwards, causing him to fall.

There wasn't much left of him when she pulled him back up into a sitting position.

He barely remembered how to speak.

And when she released him into a nearby forest, he stumbled about, confused and not understanding his situation at all.

Before she'd taken his memories, he was someone with an expertise in the wildlife of the area, his memories telling her that he'd gone there to study a herd of carnivorous pigs. But he shambled his way past a pile of animal bones that had been cleaned of all meat, and his cries accompanied by the sounds of tearing flesh and breaking bones that she heard not long after were a clear indicator of what his fate ultimately was.

Pakunoda didn't want you to become like him as a result of her ability; she wanted you for you, not a husk that looked like you.

So a few times each week she would remove something, change a little bit, and then return it to you when she shot you. You would forget what she had left intact and only remember what she had changed. A side effect of this was the awful headaches you had when you came to in the morning that left you barely able to sit up. That had been a bit unexpected as none of the troupe had ever mentioned such a thing when she'd used her ability on them, but she welcomed it as it was something she could use to her advantage. Taking care of you without complaint, Pakunoda got you to fall in love with her even further.

Which in turn caused you to push your family further away.

At the end of it you were more than happy to move away with her and you cut ties with your family completely, something that would've been hard to convince you of near the beginning, but by that point you trusted her without question, and all you wanted was to live with her someplace where the two of you could be happy.

That had come under jeopardy yesterday.

She didn't anticipate that your family would give up on you, but after the efforts she'd made to cover her tracks, it was a bit annoying to have a private investigator manage to track you down.

And even worse, he'd managed to get you to question yourself as he'd shown you something that had confused you: a picture of you with your family at a graduation, something that had seemed far too detailed to have been fabricated, and it showed all of you smiling on what was clearly a happy day.

In your memory they hadn't bothered to show up.

Pakunoda had known immediately that something was wrong when she saw you after that meeting, and when she brushed a hand against your cheek as she asked you what was wrong, your mouth gave one answer while your memories gave her another. You lied to her, and she saw that not only were you questioning things, but you were considering talking again to the investigator.

Without hesitation she'd pulled out her gun and fired it at you, wiping your memories of that afternoon and catching you before you fell.

Today her plan had been to get rid of that man while you stayed at home to recover, having gotten the investigator's name after she called Shalnark to check what accounts your family was transferring money to. It was easy to find out where in the area he was staying at after checking his credit card history.

Take care of him while you slept so there was no chance of you running into him again; that was what Pakunoda had been hoping for. But instead of the investigator giving you a few days to think over what you'd seen like he told you he was going to do, he ended up going back to the house she shared with you. Something she had learned when she caught him on his way back to his motel room.

His tenacity had been frustrating, and after looking through the conversation you'd had from his perspective, she anticipated that she would once again need to remove your memories of that afternoon.

This time, however, you weren't as receptive to him. Clearly because of his insistence that the two of you had spoken prior. And when she looked through your mind as she asked her questions, she saw that there weren't any doubts in you: you trusted her and her alone.

No need to use her hatsu on you.

It was actually a relief to not do so. Even though you would quickly forget, she always remembered the sight of your shocked face every time she had placed the barrel of her revolver against your forehead: confusion, fear and sadness taking over you as all you knew in that moment was that your girlfriend was holding a gun to your head.

Tonight could be a peaceful one, and tomorrow there would be no need for you to awake with any awful migraine.

No need to fear the investigator coming back, either, as his body would likely be on the way to a garbage dump by now, and Shalnark had said he would take over his identity for a bit so it appeared that he was still alive so your family would be pointed in a different direction as to where you were currently living.

Even if the man's body resurfaced, most of the identifying features had been destroyed, so it was unlikely that anyone who found him would be able to give him his name back. Just another John Doe in a sea of unidentified bodies.

Pakunoda glanced from the cutting board to find that you were watching her.

You smiled when you made eye contact, and you asked “did everything go okay with the stuff you needed to take care of?”

“Yes. Everything's fine now,” she answered.

“Was it something that would've been bad?”

“If it had been left the way it was.”

You hummed, saying “I'm guessing it's work related since you're being pretty vague.”

Paku smiled at you, which seemed to confirm your suspicions.

“I won't ask anymore, then,” you said, “I'm glad it all worked out.”

“So am I.”

As she focused again on what she was doing, Pakunoda's mind went back to the investigator.

At the moment she was letting you keep those memories of him as it was a good way to reaffirm that you shouldn't have contact with your family, as everything he'd said to you this time had upset you greatly.

But if his body did resurface and your suspicions were somehow raised again, she'd remove them. While it took a physical toll on you, it was worth it to keep things peaceful.

She'd keep an eye out for now, and if something changed, she would know.

After all, there wasn't a single thought that went through your head that Pakunoda wasn't aware of.

[corruptimles]

Anime North 2023 💀👍

More highlights and photos under read-more

I originally was going to have my Spamton plush with the ‘CRIMINAL’ sign but his head was too big and would make him fall

scene punk Rainbow Dash cosplayer passing by as I was strapping Reigen to my chest and saying I look amazing

people yelling ‘criminal!’ when seeing the Reigen plush

the two tabling that specifically said ‘Reigen in jail!’ (I bought a Mob pin from them)

the person who only took of photo of Reigen plushie, not me

migraine and forgot ibuprofen but Im so so strong and brave (my vision was going in and out all day)

seeing a golden guard Hunter cosplayer and we both pointed as a first reaction

another Hunter cosplayer who was a photographer so they asked for different poses

accidentally approached a table thinking the person was talking to me (they weren’t)

buying mp100 merch from a table and letting them know I was changing to Reigen later so they asked me to come back when I do

coming back and a lot of pointing and thumbs ups

being thankful I decided to bring two cosplays to switch between because wearing the coven scout cosplay meant 2-3 layers on my legs and I was melting

I walked HOW MUCH?

being in a different cosplay so it doesnt feel as weird circling the same tables over as I do

uu-chan!!!

I even thought to myself earlier that day “I wish I had an uu-chan”

people that specifically took selfies with me rather than just me (I find it endearing)

someone complimented my cosplay then asked to punch my Reigen plushie whoever you are, I felt that punch in my hand, I hope you had a good day

my eyesight is bad, and the sun made seeing my phone harder, so I kept accidentally taking videos instead of photos

didn’t want to keep the cosplayer waiting though so I opted to just screencap the videos later

two at a table called my attention for my Reigen cosplay, said I was the only Reigen they saw I said “well there’s TWO here” and pointing/posing with the plush they lamented that their Mob pins sold out just before I arrived it’s the Mob pin I bought earlier too so I let them know I actually bought it before in a different cosplay the recognition at the Reigen plushie and yelling “Reigen in jail!!” “yes, but he’s been freed!” just some silly cheering about it

anyway shout-out to @warddraws​​ because I think I’ll be using this Mob pin often

the guy that accidentally hit my shoulder:

this Miku

debating buying a poster I was staring at for a solid minute, coming back for it later and the artists being like “Reigen’s back :)”

seeing a sans and reigen magnet parody poster, panicking when ppl behind me started talking about it and heard “..he looks like-”, and sped-walked away

forgot to come back to that table.... I didnt get to actually look at their merch im sorry

I really don’t know why I felt so self-conscious there cuz I thought the poster was hilarious??

also lamenting a beautiful MP100 print I saw that was sold out, and pretty Hanzo merch because I have enough Hanzo

watched people playing DDR and being impressed and afraid of ppl that are good at it

someone who was cosplaying Mob but changed before we met (which is still :() but called my cosplay ‘crisp’

scribbled down requests from my friends when waiting (reigen kicked out of walmart) (reigen as a coven scout)

reigen gets burger king

is burger king

now scrolling through the Anime North tags and yelling at merch I didn’t see what I was there that I would’ve bought

alas

my legs are still dead but this was one of the most fun AN trips I’ve had actually

[nicothesquishysquishy]

Platonic Rollo

NAP TIME

Notes: This is with Rollo Flamm, I know he is somewhat of a controversial character but for this specific part it’s more of his understanding of Yuu/Mc/Reader, being exhausted as the magicless student prefect and from all the overblots they have seen. He did also say for Yuu to forget their troubles while they were there, so…because they have no real duties and it is a very pretty campus and town…why not a random nap? I am sorry if he is out of character :/ . I added a few headcannons to reader that i think are pretty aligned with Yuu from the game.

Relationship: Platonic Rollo Flamm and Reader.

Basically after the tour of the campus and the island, you got to just wander…and it was oddly freeing even Grimm was being nice enough to stay quiet.

You end up back at Nobel Bell campus’s garden, and you didn’t have to worry about upsetting a certain lion. It felt nice!

You eventually end up under a tree, enjoying the nice breeze, as you stared at the calming campus, listening to the bell tower toll as the hour hit four pm.

You don’t rember which ding it was two or three, but your eyes closed and you ended up falling asleep under that tree.

Rollo Flamm was walking through the campus, given that it was lunch currently and doing rounds was a perfect excuse to get away from the Night raven students, he lightly sniffed his handkerchief having a migraine from talking to those students.

It was a nice evening so he decided to take a slight detour through the campus gardens, enjoying the fresh air and the majesty that was the nobel Bell campus, when his eyes were drawn to a small blue flame, attached to a familiar grey…familar. Grimm was curled into the Prefect, asleep just as the Prefect was and Rollo Flamm allowed a small smile on his lips.

He walked forward and crouched down next to the Prefect.

He would then gently shake them awake. “Come on now, you shouldn’t sleep outside like a common mutt.” He muttered as the Prefect slowly woke up, and rubbed their eyes before looking at Rollo and growing sheepish.

“Oh, hello Rollo.” They said before continuing, “I’m sorry, I guess I was more tired then I thought I was.” They finished with a nervous chuckle as Rollo raised a brow.

“How often do you sleep?” He asked seeming a bit concerned as they shrugged, before standing up and holding a hand out to them.

“Come, come. You are clearly exhausted, lets get you into an actual bed.” He said as they nodded taking his hand and standing up, before letting him lead.

As they walked in a rather comfortable silence, Rollo would look back at them.

“Do…you enjoy Night Raven?” He asked. “I like my friends…but, it can be tiring sometimes.” They responded with a shrug, as they continued walking. Clearly it wasn’t the school they were fond of but the connections they had made, which told Rollo a bit more about the primarily silent prefect.

“I see, but if you hadn’t ended up at Night Raven..do you think you might have been able to adjust to this world better?”

They would stay silent before nodding. “Perhaps, it would have gotten me more use to the magic everyone had if I wasn’t in the midst of it so suddenly.” They said with a chuckle and a shrug.

The silence would come back as Rollo mulled over the information given to him, as they got closer to their temporary room.

“Well…if ever it becomes too much, you are free to come here and sleep.” Rollo finally said ushering them into their room. “Sleep is important for all healthy function.”

“Thank you Rollo.”

They said, before closing the door and heading to bed.