#capital n gif

[thefrsers]

im unwell😭she really said Nash with her whole being😭

[creampie-capital]

║The Demon Childhood Friend║║━ Pt. 1 ━║

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Male Monster x Fem! Reader Word count║12,600

The Devil May Lick Me Masterlist ━━━➤ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐌𝐞

↳.·:*¨༺𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧༻¨*:·.

↳║The Demon Childhood Friend║║━ Pt. 2 ━║ - in development

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Photo Reference Cred ━━━➤ 9taeX on X (Twitter)

Do not steal, copy, or repost anywhere. My work is currently on both CREAMPIE_CAPITAL on wattpad and Imtropicalbaby on Quotev. If posted on another account or website, please report and notify me immediately.

Now onto the story :)

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

(Y/n) - Six years old

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

"Hey! Why are you sitting there all alone?" 

The movement of your legs stalled on the swing as you peered up through your hair. You hadn't expected two boys to appear in front of you like a flash of lightning. 

One of them had leaned down while tilting his head of light bubblegum pink hair. It was long, pulled into a high ponytail with bangs that split in the middle over his pale forehead. He observed your small stature sitting on the swing with otherworldy optics like he held the ocean in his iris. 

His eyes were doe-like and hooded, gracing him with a curious, youthful face that probably won over the hearts of young and old women. Lastly, before you diverted your attention away, you observed the golden halo hovering above his head.

The one beside him was a lot shorter and appeared apathetic as if he were annoyed to be here at the park. He had rather dark, woolly blond hair with nice curls that were longer by the back of his head. Even as he kept his small body at an angle, looking off into the distance, you were still able to see the vibrant scarlet colors in his iris'. 

Small angled eyes with long dark lashes could have had him mistaken for female if it were not for his facial features or body. Interestingly enough, unlike his counterpart, a pair of crystal-like horns sprouted from the top of his head. 

They were small, too, like little baby horns of a goat. It would be blind of you not to mention their set of wings, one a soft fluff of white feathers hidden beneath a long-sleeved shirt. The other, dark, leather in texture and featherless, curled inwards behind his back.

"Mom and Dad were arguing again." You murmur while dropping your small hands that held onto the chain on top of your lap. 

The angel boy raised his brow as his small lips formed into an o-shape. "Ah! You're the new girl that just moved in next to mine!" He stuck out his hand and offered it as he grinned boyishly. "I'm Javan, and this is my bestfriend Zagan. He also lives just down the street." 

You stared at his rather thin fingers for a moment before reaching for it with a bleak expression. Yet once your skin touched him, your entire stomach became a ball of heated lava, and the cynical emotions running rampant in your young mind became non-existent. 

The dark thoughts omitted from your mentality...it all became so clear. 

"What's your name?" Javan questioned as he held your hand firmly while that bright grin remained on his face. 

You had to swallow thickly before you could answer. "(Y/n)...I'm (Y/n)." 

"Nice to meet you!" He beamed before looking over at the demon boy. "Why don't we include (Y/n) into the group!? You know we kids need to stick together!" 

Zagan glanced at you for a moment before sighing and crossing his arms over this sweater. He didn't speak; probably didn't want another person to come into their already-established friendship and steal his best friend. 

It was understandable. 

"Oh, Zagan agrees! Then help me push her!" Before you could reply, Javan and Zagan appeared behind you and began pushing your back on the swing. 

It didn't take long for you to start moving. Creaking reverberated around the park as the setting sun painted the sky with molten gold. 

The wind rushing past your ear felt exhilarating, your heart skipping a beat as the sensation of your stomach dropping provoked tingling sensations to surge through your body. 

You had never gotten so high, so high that you can touch the clouds. It felt like you could finally do it... as if you could finally flutter away on a pair of wings. 

Weightless, feather-like, you could fly away anywhere but here. 

One of your arms stuck out to the dimming sky. You wanted to grasp that warmness and hold it close to your heart, never to let it go ever again.

And for a moment, it felt like you were doing it. Until the air swooshed past your ear, and your body was descending swiftly. 

"(Y/n)!"

The darkness of night took over as the lamps flashed with murky color. 

And the chill ate you alive until you were swathed in that same lava-like heat from before. Your eyes drifted from the sky to Javan's face, who held you firmly.

His wings had torn from his clothes to beat in the air as he slowly descended until he kneeled and sat you down on the tire chips. 

"Are you okay?" He questioned you, face full of worry, ocean blue eyes filled with dread. 

The words felt caught in your throat. 

A burning sensation sprouted in your chest, and it took everything in you not to cry. But when Zagan ambled over to kneel on the other side of your figure and lightly touched your shoulder, you felt overwhelmed. 

So you cried and bawled and wailed so hard that you were choking on air. Your face burned, the heat on your cheeks and ears hot like the burner on the stove. 

Wet tears fell as though they were never-ending, wetting your face and drenching your top. An ache so tense and strained gripped at your heart, squeezing to where you felt lightheaded. 

Zagan and Javan hadn't said a word as they kneeled by your side and let you cry your heart out. 

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

(Y/n) - Ten years old

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

A tap resonated from your window as you hid beneath your comforter, reading the superhero comic book with a rather bulky flashlight. 

You had ignored it, mouthing the words on printed paper to yourself to practice your pronunciation. Turning the page, your lips parted to speak, and yet another tap at your window startled your movement. 

For a moment, you sat in silence, hearing it again before thrusting the blanket overhead. It was hot and stuffy under the covering that once you were out, the chilly breeze of the central air rose goosebumps over your skin. 

You nearly tripped, scooting off your bed and running over to your window. Kneeling over the cushioned bench, you forced it open to stick your head out. 

Zagan and Javan hovered in the air of your second-story house with their wings. They've grown a lot since you first met them; well, the pink-haired one grew the most.

He grew taller, his limbs longer, and his hair, tied in a high ponytail, reached the small of his back. His halo now pulsated brightly with the pure white aileron's lengthier, far longer than the length of a car.

Zagan, on the other hand, remained the shortest, shorter than you. He still had a lot of baby fat on his cheeks that were framed by his golden curls that grew longer, reaching his shoulders. Though, if something had grown, it had to have been his leathery bat-like wings that extended to such a length that you were surprised it was not getting stuck in the tree branches. 

"Baby girl!" The angel boy greeted as he smiled brightly and fluttered his white feathered wings.

That nickname used to be an insult because of how you cried your eyes out when they first met you. But then they both casually referred to you by it since you liked to call them Angel Boy and Demon Boy. 

When they call you it, you swear all your worries melt away, and you become a small little jewel that they cherish like a national treasure. 

You felt special and valued, adored by people who didn't see fault in your every move.

Instead of responding back joyfully as you usually would, you crossed your arms and turned the other way. "I'm not talking to you two! Not after you guys got me grounded!" Your young adolescent voice expresses out. 

The demon boy frowns while he twiddles his fingers behind his back with his batty aileron's twitching.

J had clicked his tongue and shrugged rather nonchalantly in his grey windbreaker. "You can't blame us forever, Baby! You were the one that wanted to fly to the satellite tower-" 

You flung your head towards the angel while sneering. "Yeah, but you both were the ones that flew into the camera with the news reporter! When my dad saw it, he flipped and took away all my privileges! That's why I'm still grounded after three months!" Your response only spurs the young boy to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. 

He could only grin and hope that bright smile he knew you loved would cheer you up. It was irritable how right he was. Although you were still upset, you wavered without even a fight. 

Javan was just someone you couldn't be mad at, and Zagan as well. Not when the demon looked like he would faint when you would ignore him and vice versa for you with the angel. 

"You guys are so lucky." You whine while sitting down on your bench and resting one of your arms on the windowsill. "Your parents never ground either of you."

The angel quirks a lopsided grin as he wags one of his fingers. "You can't get in trouble if they don't know~" His teasing remark spurs you to flick his forehead harshly. 

He winces slightly while you train your attention to the ends of your hair. "Easy for you to say when your parents don't monitor everything you do like a hawk. They only just recently allowed me to be in my room by myself during the day..." 

Zagan's scarlet red eyes flicker upwards to meet your gaze. "Sorry..." He whispers so softly that you almost miss it over the loud wooshing of the wind due to their flapping wings. 

You parted your lips to speak, yet it was interrupted by a voice. "(Y/n)! Who are you talking to when you're grounded!?" 

It was your father, and you could hear his heavy footsteps already stalking up the stairs. 

"Crap!" Javan groans. The angel boy flew over to kiss your forehead before waving goodbye and flying over to his house next door. 

You watched him glide so effortlessly away as the warmth on the spot he touched was mind-numbing and addicting. 

Z glanced down at the ground for a second before shuffling for something in his pants pocket. Just as the footsteps arrived at your door, he placed something in the palm of your hand and whispered softly against your ear. 

"I thought of you." 

His soft, boyish voice rose the hair on the back of your neck. 

The door squeaked open, and Z was gone like a flash of lightning. "Who said you could have your window open? Close it now." His voice is grating, pungent with authority as the man of the house. 

"Yes, Dad." You responded immediately and slammed it shut. Your blood is running cold, a type of chill that burns bitterly.

His presence lingers, staring at the back of your head like you are little prey unable to escape its trap. Then there are his eyes, those cold, lifeless eyes.

You never liked seeing those words in the books. Cold...Lifeless...how can one look like that? But as you grew older, you became aware. 

Nothing behind the eyes, empty and void of basic compassion. Or maybe he's only like that with you. Fathers know best for their daughters, right?

"Do you want more privileges to be taken away?" He questioned, which spurred you to immediately shake your head, gaze still situated on the wooden floor. "Should it be your bed or your books next?" 

"N-No, please." Your voice was feeble, powerless like an injured animal. "I'm sorry." 

His bulky body leans against the door frame while his arms crossed over his chest, and remains in silence. He lets the stillness unnerve you, the unknown of what is to come to scare you into compliance. 

So he just stood there while you sat on the bench, cornered and head bowed. 

The silence is so deafening. No, it's suffocating. As though quietness manifested into hands to grip your little neck and squeeze-

"Dad, the show's back on!" Your younger brother's voice cuts through the tension and gains the older man's attention. 

He huffs audibly and finally speaks. "When I say you're grounded, that means you're being punished for disobeying." The man retorts. "Don't piss me off again." And with that, he grasps the door handle and slams it shut. 

A hanging frame on the door tumbles from the force, with the walls of your room rattling. You don't move for a second, remaining stagnant to cease the quivering in your lips. 

"I hate you." It seethes from your lips before you rub your eyes free of a burning sensation. 

Now that you were alone, you allowed yourself to relax and unclench your fingers over the object Zagan had given you. What you come to see is a silver necklace with a small pendant. It's a pair of wings, silver and shiny, with something engraved on the smooth backside. 

'My Favorite Girl'

How gorgeous. It brought a smile to your face as you ran your finger over the present. The metal and jewels felt cool to the touch. 

You swiftly ran over to your vanity and chained the necklace around your throat like your life depended on it. 

Often, it felt as though Zagan was annoyed with you, rarely ever speaking while looking disinterested. But sometimes...sometimes, he did things that brought a smile to your face. 

Just like now. 

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

(Y/n) - Fourteen years old

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Javan settled down in the seat next to you as he placed one of his arms around the back of your neck. Your gaze rose from the school Chromebook while you smiled at the male. 

The more he ages, the more he continues to grow. His limbs became lengthy, his pink bubblegum hair down to his knees, and all the youthful fat in his face graced him with a prominent jawline and hollowed cheekbones.

"Hey, you. I thought Mr. Voitier was going to keep you after class for not paying attention." You tease while reaching for an apple on your tray. 

It's lunchtime during eighth grade; you had sat in the courtyard attempting to fix homework you made a mistake on before it was due. 

The angel winks while wagging a finger. "Not some good 'ol persuasion couldn't help with." He states before sticking out his tongue. 

You scoffed, pinching his tongue before wiping the saliva on a napkin. "Threatening to tell the school that he's being biased because he's a demon isn't going to work forever. Eventually, he's going to lose his patience." 

J merely waves a hand, dismissing your words before he leans back in his seat. His ocean eyes peer over to your screen, which provokes a groan. 

"Sh*t. I didn't even know that was homework." 

"How did you not know? It literally says the due date at the top." 

The angel shrugs, and you roll your eyes. "This cannot be a habit, you know." His gaze is burning against the side of your face, provoking little tingles to run up your spine. "Fine...Fine, you can copy." Once you spoke, he beamed so brightly that his halo pulsated almost blindly. 

He's like the sun that you could have in your arms. 

"You're a lifesaver! Mom would kick my a** if I got anything below an A." He expressed with his white wings fluttering behind his back. 

He's so cute. 

"Yeah, yeah. If you would just stop being lazy and forgetful, you'd never have to worry." As you return your gaze to the Chromebook, you catch a glimpse of dark wings and light hair.

Blinking, you tilt the screen down as you hone in on the background. It was Zagan, for sure.  

You actually have not seen him around for a while now. He's always busy or off doing his own thing. Your parents do not trust you enough to have a phone, so it is not like you can just message him. 

Often, you do see him around his house down the street, but in school, it's like he's a ghost. 

Matching your sight, Javan stands up while unfortunately removing his arm from your shoulders. "Yo! Z, bud!" 

Zagan's movement froze as he removed his earbuds and directed his attention to the wall of windows. 

The demon boy was still the same as when he was years ago—chubby cheeks, short height, stick-like limbs, baby crystal horns, with his shaggy curly blond hair reaching his shoulders. 

What really changed was his wings, which were just massive, even longer than Javan's. He had to have it folded behind his back and buckled with a binding due to how difficult it was for him to keep the huge ailerons closed. 

It must hurt.

The male beside you waves his hand over, and at first, it appears as though the other person in the trio looks hesitant. 

But after a moment, he shifted his path and opened the doors to enter the courtyard. His scarlet horns glimmered like a gleaming diamond under the sun. 

Javan and Zagan share a quick handshake before he nods over to acknowledge your presence. 

"Whatchya been up to, man? We barely see you anymore." The angel starts as he returns to sit down next to you. 

His right hand found its place on your thigh, and you swore your heart nearly lurched out of your stomach. The heat of his skin that you could feel through your clothes was swathing you in a bubble of delight. 

It was addicting and comforting and had shot tingles all across your abdomen. 

The demon boy swallowed rather audibly as he turned his head away. "Just been busy." He states, his voice slightly cracking. 

Hmm, why wasn't he telling you two about it? You all shared everything with each other. 

"I get it, man. Just don't forget about us. We've been friends for way too long just to grow apart." Javan expressed, and you nodded your head in agreement. 

"We are here for you, Z." His scarlet eyes fling down to meet your gaze. "With whatever's going on, we'll listen. We'll support you through anything. That's what friends are for." 

He swallows thickly again, his one hand hanging by his side twitching before curling into a fist that he hid in the pocket of his sweatshirt. "Yeah, I know. Thanks for that." His phone abruptly vibrates, and he snatches it swiftly, reading something on the screen with hard eyes before sighing. "I gotta go." 

Before either of you can tell him goodbye, he was trekking back into the school with his tied wings beating against the binding. 

A scowl laces your lips as you slouch in your seat. "I hope he's okay." You murmur, which prompts the angel to squeeze his hand on your leg. 

Your fingers twitch as you train your attention to meet his bright eyes. "He's fine. You know he's just always been moody." The pink-haired being expresses while reaching for his own phone.

Either on instinct or tendency, your dominant hand rose to graze over the winged pendant beneath your blouse. 

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Knocking audibly on the door, you could hear courses of children screaming and laughing with objects falling to the ground. 

It took a moment for the front door to be opened, and you were welcomed by the sight of Jahi, Zagan's mother. 

She's a beautiful woman, blessed with beautiful features, a small mole on her chin, and small, sharp cat-like eyes with long lashes. You could see where Zagan got his hair from, his mother sprouting bright golden curls that reached her hips. 

Her wings were something else, still leather-like but marked with swirling scarlet red lines that seemed to glow.

There was a small toddler hanging off her shoulder with one on top of her head and another babbling in her arms.

"Hi, Aunty!" You greet and grip the straps of your backpack. "Is Zagan home?"

"Baby!" She gushes down at you from her tall height while using the childhood nickname the two boys in your trio used. "It's been a while since you've been over. Everything alright?" 

For a moment, you feel the inner corner of your eyes tense and burn, but you push it down to smile and nod your head. "Yes, Aunty! Eighth grade is just so busy." 

Jahi nods before she catches one of her kids that fell from her head without even looking. "I understand. Don't be afraid to come over more often, even if it's just for dinner. Come in; Zagan's down in his room." 

You bowed slightly before entering her large home and immediately removed your shoes. Two other kids covered in paint ran past swiftly while knocking over a vase. 

Aunty Jahi practically teleported over and caught the porcelain object with one of her wings. "It looks like the kiddos are rather active today." You jest while helping her to put the vessel back on the stand. 

"No kidding." She murmurs while leading you over to the kitchen. Easily, she holds two of the tykes in one arm as she rummages through the refrigerator before pulling out a bowl of fruit. "Have a snack. I'll be making dinner soon." 

A lopsided grin forms on your lips from the habit you've always had. Every time you all used to come over, the older demon woman had snacks for you to eat. 

Whether it be fruit, candy, or pastries. Carefully, you took the bowl and nodded. "Okay, Aunty. I'll see you in a bit." 

She waved you away as you strode through the home like second nature. The residence was big, bigger than all the houses in the neighborhood. 

It made sense with all the children in the Lamia household—at least seven children, with Zagan being the oldest. He likes to say that he can't stand his siblings, but he's cared for them like a third parent. 

He'll say he hates them, but you've never seen someone who'd go to the ends of the world to find a cure when his brothers and sisters have just a cold. 

Yeah, the demon boy goes on and on about wanting to move away, but you both know he'd worry himself sick about the other kids.

Watching your footing, you strolled downstairs to the basement, where you passed one of Z's younger brothers by a year reading on the couch in the common area. 

They were rather similar looking, except he was taller, a little more aged in the face, and his horns had grown to curl back over his ears. 

If you weren't family friends, you would have guessed the second and third oldest had come before Zagan because of how fast they grow...it's something Zagan's very insecure about.

"Hey, Alastor." You greet him as you pass.

He peers up for a second before returning to his book. "Hey, (Y/n)." 

Down the hallway, the last door at the end, you approach unhurriedly before knocking loudly. You wait for a response, and once you get a quiet 'what,' you open it. 

Zagan's changed into a pair of sweats with a matching dark sweater. His attention is on the gaming computer as he effortlessly clicks the buttons on his controller without even looking. 

Once his gaze flickers over to you for a moment, he's startled and bangs his knee against the desk. "F*ck..." He curses under his breath as he yanks the headphones off his head.

You hold in a giggle and step in fully to close the door behind your figure. 

"What are you doing here?" He snaps, practically hissing it out as he slides out from the desk to rub his knees. 

"Why else?" You retort, dropping your bag against the wall to settle on his wide bed. "I miss you and came to check in because it feels like you're ignoring us." 

Zagan frowns at your words; his gaze focuses on his legs for a second before he returns them to his screen. "You should have just texted-" 

"I don't have a phone, remember." 

He's silenced as you begin plopping the fruits into your mouth and snacking on them as if you had been starving. 

The demon boy returned to his game, placing back on his headphones but keeping one earpad off so he could hear if you spoke. 

Indulging in the comfortable ambiance of his button clicking and the muffled screaming of his siblings upstairs, you watched him play silently. 

Not long after, you grasped your bag and took out a folder with homework that needed to be completed. You lay on your stomach, kicking your legs back and forth while reaching for fruit in the bowl. 

When it came to spending time with Zagan, you both enjoyed doing your own thing in each other's presence. And considering that the demon boy didn't often speak either, you did most of the talking as he either nodded along to what you were saying or grunted in response. 

It was comforting and something you've missed. For a while now, there felt to be this distance growing, like he were on the other side of the bridge with the path crumbling apart. 

You didn't want to lose him. 

"Where's Javan? Thought you'd be with him." He abruptly speaks up, cutting off the neutral silence. 

"Javan had something to do with the Angel community." You state while turning over the packet to the next page. "Something about reconnecting with their beliefs or whatever." 

Although you do not see, the demon nodded his head while saving his game. He removed his headphones to hang them on his monitor before turning his gaming chair to face your figure lying on his bed. 

Feeling his gaze, you peered up while smiling. "Hey, there, Demon Boy. I missed you." 

Zagan swallowed thickly at your words, his throat visibly bobbing as he gripped the rest of his seat tightly. You didn't notice earlier, but beneath his vibrant eyes were dark undercircles.

Had he not been sleeping well? He was always the last one to fall asleep and the first one up during sleepovers. 

Even Jahi used to take him to the hospital for chronic insomnia, and they thought it was resolved. Guess not. 

"Do you-" 

"I know that you are in love with Javan." 

You choked on a bite of fruit, a stinging sensation sprouting in the back of your throat as you sat up to cough. "W-What?! No! What are you even talkin' about?" Zagan's expression was not pleased. "Was it...Was it really that obvious?" 

He scoffed while nodding and leaning back in his seat. 

Groaning, you ran a hand through your hair while keeping your eyes down. It felt difficult at that moment to meet his gaze. "I didn't want anyone to know. I don't want anything to ruin our friendship, you know? We're already becoming distant." 

The embarrassment was eating you alive. 

"Baby Girl..." It's been years since he has called your name, even longer since you've heard him use that nickname. It makes shivers run up your spine as a tingling in your abdomen flutters. "You know that Javan's not really..." He stops himself from speaking anymore as if he couldn't find the words. "Javan's not really who you think he is. Don't you see fast he switches up when you're around?"

Raising a brow, you shook your head. "Actually, no, I don't. What do you mean by that?"

He respired a heavy breath, appearing unsure and doubtful as he shifted in his seat. "F*ckin' A... Listen, you might think you know Javan, but you really don't. He's not...He's not a good person-" 

"What are you talking about!" You interjected, feeling heat flush through your body and a wave of vertigo. "I've known him since forever. I know him. Why are you talking down on our friend like that?" 

His constrained wings twitched, pushing against the binding that had the straps whine. He attempted to speak, his lips parting, but only wheezes escaped. 

Cursing again, his thin, bony fingers gripped tightly onto the armrest as his right leg began to bounce. "Please, if you value our friendship, just listen to me." 

Oh, how you wanted to walk away right there, but what he said halted you in your spot. Of course, you valued your friendship with him; he was your best friend. 

He was your family. 

"Baby, Javan knows you like him. Everyone knows." Your face was burning in embarrassment; it felt so humiliating for some reason. "He doesn't feel the same. H-He's rather ashamed and disgusted-" 

"You're lying!" It was practically a scream as you shot to your feet off the bed. "Javan would never say that!" The inner corner of your eyes stung as tears glazed over the conjunctiva. "He's not like that! You're just envious that he's always been better than you!" 

Due to your words, the rage boiling your blood had now transferred over to the demon in front of you. Zagan stood up almost dangerously slow, like a predatory. "You think that's why I'm envious..." He nearly snarled while his canines visibly grew longer and sharper. "I don't give a flying f*ck that he's taller, bigger, smarter. He could be better than me in a hundred more ways, but it wouldn't even come close to why I'm envious of that b*stard." 

Seething hot tears trailed down your face, seeping down your chin to wetten your throat. You didn't know how to feel, what exactly to feel. 

All your emotions were taken for a spin: disoriented, puzzled, dumb-struck. Who is telling the truth? Who is right? 

They both are your best friend, the people closest to your heart that makes your days brighter and nights calmer. 

But how do you react when the one you're utterly in love with isn't who you thought he was? Or when the other confronts you with what could be the truth...but also a lie? 

"Please, Z. Just...just tell me that you didn't mean it, and I'll forget-" 

The straps containing his massive wings had snapped from the force as they extended outwards. The dark, leathery ailerons knocked over objects and slashed through metal shelves attached to the walls. 

You nearly fell over from the sudden action, intimidated by the spikes that lined the edge at the top. Not only was it long in width, but the height of it was nearly double his stature.

They don't grow their wings like that; they don't get so big they are nearly twice their size. But his had the possibility of rivaling Satan.

"Ever since we were kids, you've let him get away with everything. You've overlooked too many flaws for me to stand here and let you get your heart broken." He reached forward to wipe a tear away, but you couldn't stand the touch of him at the moment. 

It can't be true. 

"What does it matter to you..." It's a broken cry, whimpering from your lips as your heart shatters inside regardless. 

It just can't be true.

"I-" His chest decompresses while his wings descend like a deflating toy. "Baby, I care about you-" 

"Then why are you lying to me!?" 

Zagan startles you as his hands latch onto your shoulders and squeeze. "I'm not lying! Not to you! Not to my Baby." His already slightly high pre-teen voice squeaked, and he cringed at his tone. 

So overwhelmed, filled with grief and disbelief, you stepped backward and spoke to him in a way you never have before. "No, I'm not your Baby. Not anymore." 

It was as if you watched his world crumble in his scarlet eyes. "(Y-(Y/n)...please." 

You couldn't breathe at all, as if someone had your lungs in their hands and were depriving you of any air. With blurry sight, muddled with tears, you turned away and shoved your things into your bag. 

His wings were still in the way; those beautiful things that you loved to play with when he would allow it made the tears all the worse now. "Let me out." You ordered. 

The hands that were once holding your shoulder dropped to hang limply by his side, weak, frail, unstable. "If I let you go, then that's it." 

You were losing strength in your legs.

"(Y/n), don't leave me...please." He begged while stepping forward, but you turned your head away. 

Your grip on the straps of your bag was not enough padding to save your palms from being burrowed into by your nails.  "Goodbye, Zagan."

That was it. You both knew that it was final; there was no going back from this. The friendship has been tarnished, and trust broken. 

It will never be the same again. 

Hesitantly, Zadan curled in his massive wing, and you didn't waste another moment running out of there.

You flung the door open and scurried down the hall. 

Alastor was still in the common room on the couch and waved to you without looking away from his book. "Goodbye, (Y/n)." 

"Goodbye, Alastor." 

You passed the other Lamia siblings who called out to you, and you had to say goodbye, knowing you'd never be back here again. 

On your way to the front door, you tried to be silent, holding down a sob, but when you heard Jahi calling out to you from behind, you nearly bawled right then and there. 

"I'll see you soon, right, Baby?" 

You sniffled, hiding your face as you forcefully shoved your feet into your shoes and half-a**ed-tied them. "Of course, Aunty!" Faking the enthusiasm hurt like a punch to the gut. "I'll see you again soon."

Before she could reply, you left as fast as you could. There's no one left to turn to but him; you need to see him. 

Without a phone or any way to contact him, all you could do was return home and wait for him to get back from the event. 

At first, you walk as if your legs are broken, but the ardent emotions spur you to bolt down the street back to your house. 

You fling the door open and hasten down the hallway to get up the stairs. Your father yells out to you, followed by your younger brother, whose mocking words pierce you like blunt knives. 

The sobs raking your body are excruciating, aching as if your entire figure is cold rubber being pulled. It feels even worse here with all the memories. 

Pictures of the three of you are everywhere: the unfished projects worked on together, and the clothes still left over from when they used to sneak in for a sleepover. 

You cannot stand it; you cannot handle it. 

Everything must go.

There is no carefulness or being mindful of how you handle the things in the room; you throw them into plastic bags with the full intent of being rid of everything. 

Yet when you collapse to your knees to catch your breath, the necklace he gave you slips out from underneath your shirt. 

The sight only provoked your wails to become silent, merely broken, stuttering wheezes as the stress spurred sleep to hold you tightly and close your eyes. 

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

A warm touch ran through your hair while the same heat traveled up and down your spine in a soothing manner. 

"Hey, it's not good to sleep on the cold wooden ground." 

Your awareness was returning, and you groaned audibly while cracking your puffy eyes open. "Mmm, Javan...?" 

He hums in acknowledgment, and as your vision focuses, you see that you are moved onto your bed, the angel boy sitting at the edge as he comforts your head in his lap. 

"I'm sorry it took me so long to get here, Baby." He cooed softly as the singing of grasshoppers filled your room due to the open window. 

His presence, the god-like radiance, was cathartic, like the pounding of raindrops on the roof. Everything had felt so cold, and you felt so alone. 

With Javan here, as he holds you, it's like heaven. 

You tell him everything, everything that happened when you visited Zagan at his home. Without mentioning your feelings for him, you skidded over that part, but it wasn't needed to explain the event.

It hurts inside as if you swallowed a cluster of needles. 

The angel listens silently as he continues to rub your back and send tingles through the muscle. By the time you finished, a new set of tears had befallen your face; however, your throat ached too much to wail audibly. 

"I'm so sorry he did that to you. I knew he had always been rude and inconsiderate, but I didn't think he would ever try to smear my name or break your heart." He murmurs while tilting his head. "I really thought our friendship meant something to him." 

You could barely nod with exhaustion interwoven in your limbs. "Me too..." 

One of Javan's hands lightly grazed over your lips as he trailed it down your neck. "You know how much I care about you, right?" 

【"What does it matter to you..." It's a broken cry, whimpering from your lips as your heart breaks inside regardless. 

"I-" His chest decompresses while his wings descend like a deflating toy. "Baby, I care about you-" 

"Then why are you lying to me!?"】 

You do not trust your voice, only nodding your head as you turn over to hide your face against his abdomen. 

"I cannot tell you enough about how important you are to me." Javan's hand reached down as he clasped his fingers with yours. "You are my everything, Baby. You are my sun-" He squeezed your conjoined hand. "-my moon-" Leiursurely, he leans down to hover by your ear. "-you are the air I need to breathe-" And finally, you felt the softness of his succulent lips caressing the skin of your neck. "-and the strength that lets me fly. I cannot be without you." 

He kisses down your throat until he reaches your shoulder so he can hide his face in the crook of your neck. "Don't let his hurtful lies make you question our friendship, our relationship. We don't need him anyway. Right?" 

When you don't reply, he pulls away and lightly swivels your head to look up at him. "Right, Baby girl? We don't need him. Can you say it?" 

"W-We..." It feels as though you have no voice even to speak. No one wants to drop a friend, let alone one from childhood that was like family. 

Shaking your head, you attempt to pull away; however, you are not permitted to leave. Javan maneuvers your position, with you on your back, as he leans over from above. 

The beautiful white feathered wings flap lightly in the air as the moon glimmers behind him, darkening his halo. 

"You can do it, Baby. I know you can." The angel boy lightly pressed his open palm on your stomach as he stared down with otherworldly eyes. "Here, I'll even say it with you."

 

"I-" 

His hand on your belly lifts so his fingertips trail up to your neck. 

"I-"

He wraps them around your throat, tingles jolting across your skin. 

"-Don't-" 

The angel leans down just close enough to where your nose barely touches.

"-Don't-"

You feel hot beneath your clothes as if you were lying in a sauna. 

"-Need-" 

Your heart hurts, filled heavily with the distraughtness of losing your best friend. 

"-Need-" 

The closeness...the proximity of your bodies were suffocating your lungs. 

"-Him-" 

It's one word, but the impact of it was greater than an asteroid colliding with the moon. 

"-Him-"

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

(Y/n) - Eighteen years old

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Even early in the morning, the common room of the high school was bustling with activity. You felt heated beneath baggy clothes as you chewed on a piece of gum. 

The insides of your stomach ached as though they were eating its self alive. 

With your cracked phone in hand, your fingers danced over the keyboard as you debated whether or not to double-text. 

Javan has left you on read again without a single response. You've been attempting to get in contact about when you could give him the essay that he needed help with. 

During senior year, you know he's busy with Track and Lacrosse, and he doesn't have the time to check in with you like he used to. 

It doesn't help that it's hard to get close to him. High school does what high school does. 

Angels run with run angels, devils and demons congregate together, and any other monster type sticks with their kind. 

There obviously were a few outcasts, but even then, it was hard to be included. Not even mentioning how the small populations of humans weren't a fan of you. The humans said you were too close to the monster, and the monsters didn't like you because you were human. 

Lose/lose situation. 

Just thinking about it always puts a damper on your mood. The isolation and seclusion were nothing new; it was merely exhausting to have to do everything by yourself. 

You threw the broken phone on the round table in the common room and leaned over the AP history textbook that was open. Its cold, plastic-like texture felt pleasant against your warm skin. 

Sleep hasn't been gracing you for a while now. There have been just too many things to do. So much homework, more than half, not even yours. Javan already had so much on his plate. As his best friend, it felt only right to help him as much as you could. 

Resting the side of your head on your arms, you stared out at the entrance of the school. More students poured into the halls as the time grew closer to the first period. 

Hopefully, Javan arrives by himself, so you won't need to deal with the other angels questioning your presence. 

For beings that were made to be messengers of god, they were rather concerned about their vanity. Well, that's what happens when they are left to themselves.

They become rather human in their sins. 

Your already sour mood became acidic as the one person you wish you didn't have to see walked through the door. 

He had to bend down from his 6'6 (198.12cm-1.9812m) height, the grown crystal horns on top of his head only causing more hassle; it nearly scraped against the already lofty door frame. 

Zagan used to believe that his horns would never grow, considering his younger siblings had curled and extended way earlier than he ever did.

The demon boy was just a late bloomer. 

He used to be this short, scrawny little guy who was never in the slightest popular. Many of your peers picked on him, mocking him for his appearance, calling him a pathetic excuse of a demon. 

Now, he was practically the poster child. His muscles grew, making him beefy and bulky. His upper torso was wide, more specifically, his shoulders, with his chest broadening. 

Through his tighter clothes, anyone could see the muscle definition of his abbs and v-line. Before, Zagan was never one for such fitted clothes; you knew he was always insecure about his skeletal limbs and hid them beneath sweats and oversized attire. 

Similar to his upper body, his legs grew just as muscular and thick. They fitted dark jeans perfectly to where you could see the curves and meat beneath the cloth. 

What has also changed is his hair. His blonde curls were less defined, and he cut them so they were just slightly beneath his ear. 

His earlobes are now pierced and riddled with embellishments and rings. Those beautifully dangerous batty wings of his had somehow grown even larger; the width was nearly unbelievable, with the height a little past his head. 

The spikes were pointier, more ominous. 

At first, when he was younger, he needed to bind his abnormally large wings for his size because he didn't have the control to keep them closed or out of the way. Now, he still has to bind them only because they are so oversized that even when he curls them in, it's like he walks with a wall behind him.

Zagan Lamia went from being super nerdy and a loner to a big shot that everyone wanted to be affiliated with...everyone but the angels and you. 

Now, your ex-friend ran with the other demon students. He was like a celebrity, someone the girls threw themselves at, and the boys always tried to get into his good gracious with. 

Sometimes, when you look at his mature appearance, you wonder if it was you who was holding him back from his potential. 

For a moment, it felt as though Zagan's scarlet red gaze rose to meet yours as he swiped his tongue over his plump bottom lip. A small black ring pierced the left side of his lip, and he appeared to fiddle with it as he neared. 

Your heart abruptly skipped a beat, and the back of your neck was drenched with sweat. 

It's as though he's deadset on making his way to you, but a warm hand on your neck startled you. Your head flew up as you swung your gaze in the other direction. 

Javan plopped his body down in the seat beside yours and tilted his head while smiling almost coyly. "What were you looking at, Baby?" 

Your stomach coils like two hot wires being twisted around each other. Glancing back swiftly, there doesn't appear to be any trace of Zadan. He's nowhere to be seen, and that's saying something.

"Nothing." You murmur softly and return your attention to the angel. "Just thought I saw something, must be my mind playing tricks on me." 

He hummed slowly, staring at your phone tossed aside on the table before glancing at your face. "I can see that you haven't been sleeping. Bad dreams?" His words are laced with honey, so sweet that you devour it like a greedy little kid. 

You don't want to seem incompetent by confessing that you feel overwhelmed by your workload, so you attempt to smile and nod your head. "Yeah, bad dreams and Yose's little pranks getting out of hand." 

Javan laughs lightly; you're sure that he can easily imagine that annoying little menace of a brother bothering you. 

Similar to Zagan, the angel had grown and matured just as much. He didn't get beefy like the demon; his build was more athletic and toned. 

His muscular limbs were proportionate to his 6'2ft (188.976cm - 1.8796m) stature, the white feathered wings just as big and as tall as himself. They curled perfectly behind his back; wouldn't be a problem unless he unfurled them outwards. 

That long hair of his was no more. He cut it so it was long bangs over his forehead and a mullet of some sort down the back of his neck. 

There was just something about the angels and the way they dressed; they were always on trend, stylish, and attired in a manner that always made their bodies look the best. 

It was like having supermodels strutting down the halls, not accounting for the succubus' or Incubi. 

Realizing why you were upset in the first place, you dig through your heavy backpack to pull out your Chromebook. "Before I forget, let me send the essay to you." 

Javan beamed, his ocean eyes practically glimmering as he wrapped a hand around the back of your neck. "I literally forgot. You really are a lifesaver!"

【The angel shrugs, and you roll your eyes. "This cannot be a habit, you know." His gaze is burning against the side of your face, provoking little tingles to run up your spine. "Fine...Fine, you can copy." Once you spoke, he beamed so brightly that his halo pulsated almost blindly. 

He's like the sun that you could have in your arms. 

"You're a lifesaver! Mom would kick my a** if I got anything below an A." He expressed with his white wings fluttering behind his back. 

He's so cute. 

"Yeah, yeah. If you would just stop being lazy and forgetful, you'd never have to worry." As you return your gaze to the Chromebook, you catch a glimpse of dark wings and light hair.】

It's been four years, but that memory from the courtyard in middle school suddenly flashed in your mind. So long ago, but the recollection still feels as though it were yesterday. 

The loss still feels so fresh. 

"Right..." You wheeze out before clearing your throat. "What are your plans today? I've been wanting to get out of the house and go somewhere other than work." 

J appears to think intently, his gaze almost out of focus, before he shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. "I don't think I can. The community is meeting up at the grand church for a ceremony tonight." 

The dejection is evident, your shoulders sagging, but it's what you expected. He's ever so busy; you should be more considerate of his schedule. 

Humming, you sent over the documents through email as you kept your gaze away from meeting his. "Are you still going to senior formal?" You question just to start a conversation. 

It's been weeks since you've actually been able to speak face-to-face with him. You're soaking his attention in as much as you can.

"Yeah, I wasn't gonna go, but the others convinced me." 

"Oh~?" Your lips form into a faux smile. "Javan Wyn was peer pressured?" 

The hand on the back of your was removed to flick at your forehead. "I don't get peer pressured." He stated, which spurred you to roll your eyes. 

"Alright, whatever you say, Angel Boy. Do you have at least a date?" 

"No." 

The heat beneath your baggy clothes grew worse, and a sudden surge of anxiety flushed through your bloodstream. "Are you going to ask someone?" 

You don't know whether you want him to say yes or no. He's so handsome, his appearance nearly a blessing of god. It's astounded you that he isn't in a relationship. 

Everyone flocks to him. 

And you're still in love with him after twelve years.

"Hmm." He leans over the table and rests his chin in the palm of his hand. "I haven't really put any thought into it." 

A breath of air you hadn't realized you were holding in was released as you laughed. What did you expect? 

He's never voiced anything about liking any of the girls at the school, and you'd know. Best friends tell each other everything. 

"Well, if you come up with someone in mind, won't you tell me first?" You offer while leisurely closing your Chromebook. 

"Sure, Baby. You'll be the first to know." Javan laughs under his breath while swiping a loose strand of hair over to behind your ear. Doing so, he was able to see a very small hair clip you had to keep some frays out of your face. 

"What's this?" He questions, and you're unable to meet his gaze. 

You immediately remove the clip and conceal it within the palm of your hand. "Oh! I-It's nothing. I just forgot to take it out. My hair was just getting in the way." 

Whatever the angel says goes a long way for you. If he says a certain color looks good on you, you're altering your whole theme. 

When he tells you, 'I really like it when you wear baggy clothes. You don't look good when you wear anything tight.' You change your entire wardrobe, so maybe he'll like you more. 

Maybe his eyes would linger on you more when you listen when he says, 'Don't wear make-up, you look so much better bare-faced. Make-up just doesn't fit someone like you.' 

Perhaps he'll tell you he likes the way you look when you do your hair just the way he likes it. 'It's ugly when you put those clips in your hair, ya know. I only like girls who keep their hair up in a bun. Yeah, yeah, that suits you much better.' 

You would do anything for him. 

"Don't forget next time." Javan reprimands and reaches for the colorful metal clip in your hand. "It's ugly when you wear it." 

Your throat tightens, constricting with the sensation of sobbing, attempting to force its way through. But you swallow it down and nod your head with a small, frantic smile. "Of course." 

His warm fingers graze over your palm to take the clip in his own and leans back to aim and toss it in the garbage can against the wall. "There." He murmurs while turning back to face you with a gleaming smile. "You look so much better when you're like this." 

Simple, he likes it when you appear simple and clean. He likes it when you wear ill-fitting clothes, even when it's hot, and you're swathed in sweat. He likes it when you tie your hair up, fringes, and lose hair gelled back. 

He likes it when you do nothing more. 

The bell rings, which draws his attention as well as that of other students who scatter to get to class on time. The angel stands and pats your face lightly while grazing his thumb over your lip. 

Your entire stomach is doing front lips, and you could melt in his angelic touch. 

"I'll see you around, Baby." And with that, he departs from the common area to leave you alone just as you were before.

It was nice while it lasted, but all good things must come to an end. 

"See you around, Javan." It whispers from your lips as you shift in your seat to collect your things.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂ 

You hate that sensation, the feeling of chlorine in your hair. Even as you try to scrub and wash it out after aquatic fitness, that awful tacky and dry sensation sticks to every strand. 

It sucks, considering how much you enjoyed swimming. Weightless, fluid, as if you're flying away from here. The way your hands split the water, the manner in which your body glides through it so easily, drives all your worries to melt away. 

Shutting off the shower in the female locker room, you reach for your towels and wrap them around your body and hair. 

There should still be at least ten more minutes before the bell rings for the end of class. You can take a little bit of time to look presentable-ish. 

As you enter the lockers, it appears that all the other girls had finished before you, already gone. Not that you minded either; you didn't like their eyes on your body, judging in the way they always do. 

You're just a little human in a world of monsters.

Sighing, you undid the code to the lock and opened the locker. Instead of seeing your change of clothes and other items, it was bare.

Not a single object or article of clothing. 

Your entire stomach filled with dread, and dropped to your knees. 

"Awe, whatever happened to your clothes~?" It's a sickeningly sweet voice that originated behind you. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as your heart skips a beat. 

Laughing lightly even though you desire to scream, you remove the towel from your hair and slowly turn around. "I just can't seem to keep my things together." 

It's suffocating, standing in only thin, short clothes as six other students surround you, four angels and two humans. 

Water trickled down your neck while you swallowed thickly. 

"Oh, we agree." One of the angels expresses and steps forward. "Which is why you need to learn a lesson~!" She's so pretty; is such a shame her personality is rotten.

You latched onto the front of your towel as you stepped back, only for the locker to shock you with the contrast of heat. 

"I-I'm sure I'm innocent." You're losing your voice, becoming guttural like you had been screaming it away. "What did I do?"

A human girl latches her hand on your bicep and tugs you so hard that you nearly slip on the cold concrete ground. 

"You need to be reminded of your place." 

Before you can attempt to de-escalate the situation, your other arm is latched onto, and you're being dragged away. 

There is no grip on your bare feet that you are just sliding on the floor. You can only hold onto that thin towel to keep even a bit of your modesty. 

"Stop it! Hey!" They bring you closer to the exit, where loud chattering emanates from. Classmates and other students must fill the large open area where the hallway had opened up for gatherings. 

Your elbow slams back, knocking into one of the girl's noses. She gasps, and blood immediately begins to trickle down. 

She licks it while a terrifying sneer forms on her plump lips. "You bitch!" Her hand latches onto the back of your knotted, wet hair as two others open the door. 

They managed to drag you through the door and thrust you outwards so you fall forward. You're barely able to catch yourself, striking your knees on tile that immediately spurred an onset of blood to stream down your shins. 

Laughter...Laughter reverberates outwards, so loud that the vibrations echo beneath the ground. 

You feel sick. 

The one you had hit grasped onto the back of your hair again. She tugged your head upwards to look at everyone while also grabbing onto the bottom of your jaw. 

At least more than half of your grade had congregated in this massive area, and they surrounded you like a school of fish.

"Look, everyone! It's the girl who thinks she's better than us!" 

Ice runs through your veins, so cold that it's a burning sensation. The insides of your throat swell up, depriving you of air. 

You're scared.

You're humiliated. 

They're laughing at you, their giggles and cheers so deafening it's as though they are bursting your eardrums. 

"Come on!" A different girl locks onto your wrist and pulls you to your feet with her pure strength. "Where did all that entitlement go!?" 

Not even a second after you are standing, were you kicked down and forced to collapse on your bruised and rived knees. 

A strangled gasp wheezed from your lips as the inner corner of your eyes stung. Tears clouded your conjunctiva before trickling down your heated face. 

"Doesn't she deserve a little humility!?" Courses of 'yes' and cheers echo like the booms of fireworks. They begin chanting...chanting to take everything away. 

These people wanted to ruin you. 

Your hand holding up the towel was yanked away as another gripped the cloth to tear it off your body. 

"No!" Just as you finally release your voice, a vociferous snapping sound overtakes the shouting and replaces it with gasps. 

Scarlet red eyes meet your gaze as his wings tear apart the binds and extend outwards, knocking nearly half the crowd to the ground. 

He practically teleported in front of your figure to yank you up to your feet by one of your wrists and hold you tight to his body. 

The massive size of his wings is not just for show as he flaps them; the force sends everyone tumbling away, skidding across the ground and hitting the walls. 

You cannot breathe, even with your lungs expanding and retracting vigorously and your mouth gulping in the air like a fish; lightheadedness only grows more intense. 

Zagan's burly arm wraps firmly around your back as he hauls you back into the locker room, the male locker room. 

A clamorous cry echoes out from your lips as you grip his shirt, burrowing your nails in his thick, muscled waist. You didn't mean to cry, to wail out and release this visceral wail that rattles through your entire being.

He doesn't say a single word, merely picking your much smaller figure into a bridal position. His body heat contrasted against the chill of your damp person in such a way that you immediately succumb to his warm hold. 

To be against his body brings back so many memories, all before the fallout, before the trio became nothing anymore.

You've missed him so much. 

Why did it have to be this way?

The strength of your sobs worsens, racking through your bones. Zagan's wings surround the two of you, blocking out the light and muffling the sounds from outside.  

It's only the quiet hum of the internal conditioning and your blustering cries. Your face is hidden against his pecs, wetting his shirt, but he doesn't seem to mind. 

He only continues to hold you like you're a cracked vase, precious, broken, and needing his undivided attention. 

Even though your nose is stuffed, this close proximity and protective surroundings of his wings allow you to smell his scent. 

Zagan smells like an early dawning, with fog concealing the world and honeydew drops garnishing the grass. 

This is not the smell of heaven, but damn, does it feel like paradise. 

Soon, without a single word being spoken, your cries cease to become hiccups and whimpers. Strength has dissipated from your muscles, leaving your entire being exhausted. 

You just want to fall asleep and never wake up. 

The demon boy leans his head down, and though it is void of light while swathed in his batty wings, you can feel his gaze on your face.

His one arm under your shoulder gingerly pushed up upwards so you were sitting on his lap. He held onto your bare thigh while allowing your head to rest on his shoulder. 

There are tingles erupting beneath his fingers that ignite your nerves. You've never been touched like this before.

"Better?" Not the voice of an angel, not the singing of the devil; it's something entirely different. Deeper, coarser, it's manly and rugged. 

The sound of it reminds you of a rustic cabin, lost in the woods with a fire burning in a stone pit. Everything, from the foundation to the wiring, was done by hand. 

It feels personal. 

Slackly, with barely any strength, you nod your head and raise a hand to swipe at your face. 

"...You...You still have it." 

It is obvious what he's referring to; that cold pendant abruptly feels warm at the mention of the necklace. You hadn't the heart to remove it or to throw it away. 

Doing so would be completely removing him from your life, even more than he already was. "Yeah..." You didn't want to tell him anymore. 

You can't tell him that sometimes you'd grip that necklace and pray that everything would revert back to the way it used to be. Or that you'd run your fingers on the engraving on the back, remembering when he was always there for you...always there until that event. 

Feeling him nod his head, his massive spiked wings part very carefully to let in the light. Zagan stands up to place your body in the spot he was just sitting in and strides over to a wall of lockers. 

The way he just manhandles you sends shivers across your stomach and farther down.

He undoes the lock and shuffles through a bag before turning to face your figure. You can't believe the man standing in front of you is Zagan. 

This is really the same nerd who had to look up at you; now you have to crane your neck even to meet his gaze. 

It's really been four years without even acknowledging one another.

"Here, It's obviously not going to fit, but it's better than nothing." Zagan murmurs as he steps closer to lay a set of clothes on your lap. 

That sweater...he still had that same dark red sweater that you bought him once at the mall. You said it went well with his eyes, made them as bright as stars. 

It most definitely doesn't fit him now, which means he's kept it even after he had finally developed. 

"I'm going to turn around to make sure no one comes in while you change." 

His speech breaks you from your thoughts. You peek upwards just as he folds his wings and trekks over to the locker room door. 

You feel more self-conscious now with Zagan's back turned than you did in front of the other students. The tips of your ears are burning along with your cheeks. 

It's almost like the clothes are made of glass the way you gently handle them and set them on the seat as you stand. Your body has long dried after the shower, yet you keep the towel over your shoulder as you shuffle on his attire. 

The sweater was soft, lined with cushiony fabric that felt nice against your skin. Without a bra or support system, you were lucky it was rather oversized and thick to obscure your chest. 

Next is the pair of black fleece sweatpants. You end up fitting it well; you're definitely sure that this was from when he was smaller. 

Luckily, there's a drawstring that you end up tying to tighten at your waist. 

"I'm done." You meant for your voice to be firm, but it's gravelly and coarse, as if you need to clear your throat. 

He tilts his head back to look, but he audibly sucks in a breath of air before flinging his head in another direction. One hand covers his mouth as the other holds onto the wall for support

Your brows crease tightly, and your fingers form into fists in the sleeves that are too long for you. "Is something wrong?"  

It took a short moment for him to clear his throat. He shook his head as if he were freeing himself from thoughts while extending a large, coarse hand outward. "Grab my hand, and I'll take you home." 

It's as though he steals the air right out of your lungs.   

After everything? After what you said to him, after dropping him...he's still caring for you. 

You want to hit him. If only he didn't accuse Javan of what he said, nothing would have changed. 

"I-I can go home on my own." You state, yet it only prompts him to click his tongue and step forward. 

He immediately dwarfs your smaller stature by his much larger one. The demon peers down with an unknown expression, one where you can't even tell what he's thinking. 

Those gorgeous wings of his softly flutter to gain your attention just as one corner of his succulent lips quirk upwards. "And miss the chance to fly?"

How right he was. 

As kids, you begged them to take you flying. One of them would hold you close and raise you to the sky so you could feel utterly weightless. 

Nothing mattered while you soared, not your f*cked up family, not your unrequited love, nothing at all but that freedom. 

You haven't felt it in four years because Javan was always too busy and Zagan...

"Fine." It whispers from your lips as you shift your gaze away. "Just home, please." 

His small, angled eyes squinted as if he knew what you were thinking while he nodded his head. "Let's go." He states and reaches for one of your hands. 

That warmth surrounds you again as he holds on tight and departs from the male locker room. It's empty within the common area; seems that everyone knew better to leave than to stick around and face the poster boy's wrath. 

It's sunny outside as you both exit through a side door. The sun is high, with a few fluffy white clouds clumped together. You were maneuvered into a new position, one where Zagan held your body in the bridal position again before taking off. 

Those massive wings of his are so powerful, so strong that he could probably outfly any fighter jet. He's arrived in the sky in the blink of an eye.

Wind is whipping around your baby hairs and striking against your face, yet you welcome the little stings. 

You're light, fluid, and weighed down by nothing in this moment. Zagan's flying through the clouds, allowing your fingers to feel the slight chill and moisture like before. 

It earned a laugh from your lips, a genuine one that hasn't graced your face in a long, long time. The demon's grip grew tighter at the sound of laughter and peeked down at your face. 

Your eyes met for a second, and his lips parted as though he desired to speak, but they shut upon arriving in your neighborhood. 

Not yet; you didn't want to go home just yet. 

"We could fly around a little longer." Your eyes fling upwards to meet his as he swallows. "If you want, that is." 

No, no, you don't want to go home at all. 

You feel an ache in your stomach, a burn in your eyes, and a pressure in your throat.

Doesn't he hate you at all? 

"Just...Just take me home, please." You spoke a lie, and god should have struck you down right then and there. 

How is it that you both look-feel so dejected?

The scarlet-eyed demon descends from his high place in the sky to your window on the second floor. You manage to crack it open before slipping inside and shifting around to face the dirty blond-haired man. 

He hovered in his spot, taking in the view of your bedroom after so long. All the pictures of him are gone; all the gifts he's given you are nowhere in sight. 

"I'll uh-" His tongue fiddles with the lip ring as he drops his gaze. "I'll get your bag from school and bring it over."

You want to tell him not to worry about it, but you do not trust your voice, so you merely nod your head. 

Zagan mimics your action and lightly taps the windowsill before flying away. Your puffy eyes follow and watch his figure until he's too far to be seen. 

Too far gone. 

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂ 

When Zagan returned from gathering your things from the school, he lightly tapped on your window to gain your attention. 

However, he received no response, none at all. The blinds were pulled together so that he couldn't see inside...nor feel your presence. 

The demon knocked again, a little louder this time, with again no response. He reacted without thinking, thrusting up the old window and nearly tearing off the blinds.

It was the same as he saw earlier: slightly messy, books splayed open, clothes folded but not put away, yet there was something different. 

On the bench by the window was the folded set of clothes he allowed you to wear...and a note on top. His fingers were shaky for some reason, filled with dread as if he were inches away from death. 

Flipping it open displayed just a few words with messy handwriting, like writing in a rush. 

《

I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore goodbye

》

The paper tore in his grasp while the pair of fangs in his mouth elongated and sharpened. Every muscle within his body tensed and constricted. 

F*ck, f*ck, f*ck! 

This can't be happening!

You can't be gone! 

He tried to control his breathing, attempting to calm himself just the slightest so he could figure out where the f*ck you had gone. 

But your scent is decamped with not a trace of or trail leading anywhere. Even your presence, the very feeling of your soul, is nowhere close. 

He can't feel it, he can't feel you. 

After years of saying it, knowing you so well, even after four years of disregarding each other, he knows you did it. 

You ran away. 

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

(Y/n) - Twenty-Two Years Old

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Continuing on in pt.2

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Short and dramatic, but it's better than nothing, right? This had been in the drafts for a long time, but I decided to break it up into 2 parts just to get it out. It also allows me to focus on the second act of the story. 

This is setting up for pt.2, where all the drama is going to unfold. The reader gets found and realizes the truth, more daddy Zagan screen time (he's gonna be in a gang hehe), and Javan is confronted. There's gonna be fistfights, tears, and a lot of sl*tty demon s*x. 

Psst, I'll let you in on a little secret. The Lamia household has lots of siblings, right? Well, certain demons have a little...hmm, how do I say this...have a breeding trait passed down through generations. Jahi has it, which explains the seven children, and well...Zagan's very much like his mother.

Which makes him a 'Breeding Bull'. So that's something to look forward to in pt.2 ;)

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

↳If you'd like to support me or read 30+ drafts of TDMLM or my other stories, please consider buying me Kofi. You can find the link on my profile! Thank you :) 

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

𝐌𝐚𝐦𝐚 signing out

[transjudas]

(x)

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

Eddie's Girl

Ship(s): Eddie Munson x fem!reader, Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Steve finds himself pining over the one girl he can't have, and he has no idea how to handle it. It's a good thing you notice before Eddie does, and, by God, is Steve's timing perfect.

Word Count: 9,330 words

Warnings: suggestive content (18+), jealous!Steve, Eddie slander, reader kind of cheats (emotionally?), pining and glum Steve, Steve's a little mean-spirited, reader wears a bikini, swearing, Stancy mention, everyone is a bitch to everyone, Eddie's an asshole, therapist Steve, insecure Eddie, talk of addiction, time skip

18+ Warnings: description of moaning, whimpering, veiled allusion to sex from another room, Steve & Dustin overhear

Note: Inspired by Rick Springfield's "Jessie's Girl". Set two years post-s4. (It didn't quite go in the direction I wanted it to, so I might rewrite this at some point. Or make an alternate version at least.)

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

May 15, 1986

Steve had seen plenty of beautiful women in his life. Pretty faces, pretty bodies, pretty eyes, he'd seen it all. But the woman currently browsing his organized shelves was, without a doubt, the most beautiful he had ever seen.

He couldn't exactly pin down what it was about you—maybe the way you were standing, or the way you cocked your head to the left while you read the titles, or even the way your hair was falling—but you were the most beautiful creature he had ever set eyes on.

You had been in the store multiple times recently; this was probably your fourth appearance this week. Steve gawked at you while you chose a movie every time, and he stuttered when he checked it out for you every time, and he blushed every time you met his gaze. He knew it, but he knew it was useless to try and cover it up. He'd just become more obvious if he tried to hide how in awe of you he was.

Robin hadn't been in the store the first few times you had been here, but she glanced over at you today, seeing where Steve's gaze had fallen.

"That's the girl?" she whispered, the color draining from her face.

Steve nodded. "She's gorgeous, isn't she?"

"Steve, you do not want to go after that one, I promise," Robin hissed frantically under her breath.

He frowned. "Why?"

Before Robin could answer, there was a screech from outside of the store. Their heads whipped toward the sound, seeing Eddie's van outside, Eddie himself hopping out and strolling into the store with his hands in his front jean pockets.

"Hey, Harrington!" Eddie said. Where he would normally lean on the counter to be a nuisance, he sauntered over to where you were standing.

"Hi, Eddie," Robin said, when Steve's usual reply didn't come, his eyes instead narrowed as he watched Eddie approach you. She opened her mouth and shut it quickly, knowing there was no way to soften the fall Steve was about to take.

Eddie looped his arms around your waist. You squeaked in surprised, but you were already smiling when you turned in his arms. "Eddie!"

He grinned at you. "Hiya, princess." He bent down, kissing you softly. You indulged in the kiss for a minute before pushing him away.

"Not now, Eds, we're in public," you said, voice shy and cheeks burning with embarrassment. You glanced in Steve's direction, concern flickering over your face when you caught sight of him.

Robin quickly spun Steve around so that you couldn't see his face. She took in his slightly dropped jaw, the shock in his eyes, the tiny tremble in his lower lip. "That's why," she said softly.

Steve cleared his throat with some difficulty. "Yeah," he said, throat constricted. "I get it. That's why."

~❊~

The usually lighthearted night laying on Steve's bed had turned sullen. In fact, it hadn't started lighthearted at all. When Robin finally got to Steve's house after spending the afternoon with Vickie, she found him awake yet unmoving on his bed, curled up on his side and staring at the wall.

"Steve?" she asked, setting her stuff down on the floor. "You alive over there?"

He gave a noncommittal hum of acknowledgement.

Robin sat down on the opposite side of his bed cautiously. He didn't move, and when it became clear he wasn't going to talk, she said, "Are you okay?"

Silence filled the next few seconds. Then Steve rolled onto his back. "No," he mumbled, looking the most despondent she had ever seen him. "It's not fair, Robs. How does Eddie "the Freak" Munson get a girlfriend before I do?"

Robin shrugged. "They've been together for a long time—before high school, before he became the social outcast."

Steve glared at her, but Robin knew it wasn't directed at her; Steve tended to glare at everything when he was upset about the girls he didn't successfully date. "And you know this how?"

"Because she's been my best friend for the past four years."

He pouted. "How come I've never seen her before now?"

Robin flopped down beside him. "She was in Eddie's original graduating class. She's been in college the past two years, and she didn't come back last summer—she was on an internship abroad. That's why Eddie's so clingy this summer. She's been complaining he hardly leaves her alone—"

Steve sat up. "She's complaining about him?"

A warning entered Robin's eyes. "Not like that, dingus. Don't you try anything. They're still happily in love."

Steve harrumphed. "I'm doomed, Robin."

She heaved a sympathetic sigh. "No, you're not, Steve. You're gonna find someone, it's just..."

"Just that everybody else found their someone first?" he groaned. "I just can't win, can I?"

Robin looked down at her hands, awkwardly playing with the bracelet Vickie had given her. She glanced over at Steve's glum face, feeling an echo of the pain he felt in her chest. He looked like she had when she found out Vickie was dating someone else, a year prior.

She patted Steve's shoulder. "It'll get better, I promise. Just look at me, right?"

Steve sighed. "Yeah, I guess so," he said, but Robin could tell he wasn't convinced.

~❊~

Steve felt like the universe was against him. Of course the girl of his dreams was already taken, he wasn't surprised just looking at her. But by Eddie Munson? Now that made Steve want to scream into a pillow.

And it wasn't like Eddie had managed to score you with his winning charm, either. You'd been friends with him for so long, you'd dated him for so long—it was like he was the default option just because he was familiar.

Steve knew his thoughts weren't fair to either you or Eddie. He'd seen the two of you interact time and time again since the day his heart dropped to his feet, and he knew you were infatuated with Eddie. Even if Eddie was the familiar, default option in your love life, you had no problem with it. You looked at Eddie like he'd hung the moon and stars. Eddie looked at you no differently, and he was constantly holding you and touching you and Jesus Christ it made Steve sick.

Romance of all kinds was making Steve's stomach churn these days. Every time he saw Nancy and Jonathan, he felt so bitter and angry he had to put as much distance between himself and the happy couple as he could. It was just another reminder of the girl he'd lost.

Every time he saw Robin and Vickie, bittersweet tears welled up in his eyes. He was happy for Robin, of course he was, and he was incredibly proud of the fact he'd been right about Vickie all along. But, God, did it hurt to see his advice work for somebody other than himself.

The same went for Dustin and Suzie, every time Dustin got off the phone with her and came to Steve to gush about her. Steve usually loved hearing about it, but that didn't take away the sting when Dustin happily described in too-great length how Suzie had told him she loved him that day.

And when he saw you and Eddie... Oh, Steve just wanted to sob. There had been too many days when he had gone home and cried in the shower, all without meaning to and sometimes not noticing until he was unable to breathe from how fast the tears were coming.

~❊~

July 10, 1988

Brutally hot July days had arrived at Hawkins, which meant Steve's pool had become a community pool for his friends. These days were Steve's favorite days—when he could have everybody near and see that they were all safe and happy and just fine, contrary to the nightmares that still plagued him.

The kids got there first—not that they were kids anymore, but Steve couldn't quite break out of that train of thought. They were four years younger than he was, after all.

Steve and Lucas helped Max into the chair Steve had installed into the pool for her, and Steve gave her his sunglasses to protect her already weak eyes.

Max shrieked as Dustin jumped in, dousing her in water. El slid into the water beside her while Will and Mike argued over which of Steve's deck chairs they wanted to sit in.

Slowly, the others began showing up—Nancy and Jonathan just seconds after the kids, evidently having been the ones to drive them, carrying fold-up chairs and a cooler. Robin and Vickie came with umbrellas and food about a half an hour later.

As time passed, the sun began to dip in the sky, but the heat was relentless. It was late in the afternoon when Dustin finally stopped splashing around long enough to ask, "Steve? Is Eddie coming?"

Steve glanced around his yard and then at his watch. "He was supposed to, after he got out of work."

Dustin made a face. "That was hours ago! Where is he?"

Steve shrugged. "I don't know, I'm your babysitter, not his."

Dustin scowled. "You are not my babysitter."

"Still feels like it," Steve muttered, rolling his eyes.

Dustin's response was to shriek and dunk Steve under without warning.

Laughter met Steve's ears when he surface, glaring at the grinning boy. "Oh, you're gonna pay for that, Henderson." He sent a tidal wave in Dustin's direction, relishing in the resulting fearful shriek.

"Aw, don't drown the little shrimp without me!"

"Eddie!" was a chorus that came from the kids. Steve glanced over his shoulder and found both you and Eddie walking toward the pool, Eddie already shedding his shirt to join them in the pool.

Steve's stomach dropped when he saw you, several thoughts processing simultaneously.

First, he had not technically invited you to this gathering, because he avoided speaking to you as much as possible, lest you detect his cursed crush on you.

Second, you were wearing a pretty (and skimpy) bikini with shorts and a see-through coverup over it.

Third, his formerly perfect hair was practically a wet mop on his head.

"Brought my girl along," Eddie said as he jumped into the pool. "Hope you don't mind."

Steve pushed his wet hair out of his face, shaking his head. "Nah, man, it's cool," he said, even though he could feel his skin warming even more, the pool no longer cooling down that persistent burn. You gave him a little, cheery wave, and the urge to hide in his room swept over him.

Robin greeted you with an enthusiastic hug. "I hope you like burgers! Or fruit, or salad, or chips, or fries, because we brought them all, so there's something you're gonna like—"

You laughed, the sound like music to Steve and Eddie's ears. "Of course, I do, Robs, how could you forget?"

"Must be the heat," she said, but Steve barely heard her, because you called Robin 'Robs' too!

Eddie clapped his hands together, tugging Steve's attention away from you. "Alright! Why are we drowning Henderson?"

"Because he tried to drown me!" Steve lunged at Dustin in the water. Dustin shrieked and swam away as fast as he could.

Eddie laughed. "Must've been a big wave to drown the captain of the Hawkins swim team," he teased, poking Steve in the shoulder. Steve swatted his hand away.

"He caught me off guard," Steve complained.

There was a soft splashing behind him. Both he and Eddie turned to see you sitting at the edge of the pool, your feet in the water. Eddie's face split into a wide grin and he swam over to you. Steve watched discreetly, trying to tamp down the fire in his belly, as Eddie put his hands on your knees and you leaned down to cup his face and kiss him.

"I love you, sweet girl," Eddie mumbled against your lips.

"I love you more," you whispered. "My lover boy." You smiled at him, pushing his hair out of his face.

The moment remained peaceful for a single second more, before Eddie abruptly pulled you into the pool. You shrieked, clinging to him while he laughed (Steve thought his laugh was a bit too obnoxious for your obvious panic at being yanked in).

"You are an ass," you complained, but there was no bite behind your words. You looped your arms around Eddie's neck and his grin widened, becoming sickeningly in love. Steve felt a twisting in his chest, painful as a knife. When your gaze darted over to him, he hoped his expression wasn't too revealing of his current hatred toward Eddie or his longing for you. "I'm sure Steve's never yanked any of his girlfriends into the pool without warning."

Before Steve could open his mouth, Nancy said, "No, but he has pushed me in before—while I was wearing clothes."

Steve blushed. Guilt bubbled up in his chest. "Nancy, I..."

"It's okay," she promised, "I don't hold it against you."

Your mouth had become an O. "Is that when you two were...?"

Nancy nodded, casting an awkward glance toward Steve, who refused to look anywhere near her. He rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a long breath.

"Awkward," he muttered and pulled himself out of the pool. He grabbed a towel on his way back toward his house.

Your voice sounded behind him, guilty and apologetic. "Steve, I didn't mean to—"

"No, no, it's fine," he called over his shoulder. "I'm just grabbing a drink."

Robin frowned, gesturing to the cooler full of ice and sodas. "We have drinks right here, Steve!"

"Not that kind, Robs," he said.

"Hey, grab me one, Harrington!" Eddie shouted. Steve gave him a thumbs up before shutting the sliding door behind him. He didn't let out his breath until he got into his kitchen and leaned over the kitchen sink.

"Get ahold of yourself," he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut. He hated that it bothered him so much, that every time someone brought up his relationship with Nancy he practically shut down. He hadn't in a while, and he hated this time even more, because it was you who brought it up.

No wonder he hadn't had a real relationship since Nancy. Every girl knew about it, and every potential girlfriend brought it up, and it reduced him to this—unable to flirt with them, unable to talk to them, unable to forget the smell of Nancy's perfume or her hand in his or—

"Stop it," he hissed at himself, leaving the sink and yanking open the door to his fridge. He grabbed two beer cans, paused, and grabbed a third. He downed one right there, standing at his kitchen counter and glancing out the window to where you and Eddie were practically slow dancing in his pool. Eddie spun you and then his hands dipped below the water, visibly squeezing your ass. You yelped, blushing in his arms, and Eddie giggled at you.

And then his hand slipped around to your front. "Fuck," Steve said, ashamed of the whimper in his voice and glad no one was around to hear it.

The kids started to jeer, Dustin mimicking vomiting, and Eddie lifted one hand out of the water to flip them off. You, however, seemed relieved.

"Steve will kill you," Robin warned, glancing inside. Steve wondered if she saw him standing and watching from the open window. Eddie just laughed off her warning. "I'm serious, Eddie, not in his pool, not in his house."

"I'm sure the maid will clean the sheets," Eddie said, winking at you.

Shocked and bashful in the face of all these people, you pushed away from him. Steve could see your mortification, your unease with the whole situation. "Eddie, stop," you said. "Robin's right. Don't piss him off just because you're jealous of him."

Silence fell from the others. Eddie's face twisted into an ugly, angry expression. "I'm not jealous of Steve fucking Harrington."

You scoffed, climbing out of the pool the same way Steve had. "Yeah, right." You glared at him. "Then tell me why you've gotta one-up him all the time, yeah?"

"I do not—" But you were already walking away, so Eddie turned his glare on Robin. "Now look what you've done!"

"What I've done?!" Robin echoed, incredulous. "This is on you, Munson!"

You snatched up your towel from one of the lounge chairs. "You started this, Eddie," you snapped. "What did you think was going to happen? I was gonna let you—"

Nancy cleared her throat. "There are children present," she said from behind her hand. She glanced at Jonathan, who shook his head slowly, a clear don't get involved.

You shook your head at him, at a loss for words. You turned your back on him and the others and started for the house.

Eddie scoffed. "Oh, yeah, just walk away from me. Why don't you go cry to Steve, huh? Go fuck your other boyfriend!"

You flipped him off over your shoulder and slammed the door behind you. You stopped in the kitchen, leaning against the wall and pushing your hands against your eyes. Steve heard a muffled cry fall from your lips.

"Are...you okay?" he asked. You jumped, looking up at him. "Sorry, stupid question, I know. I can...leave you alone, if you want, I just...wanna make sure you're okay."

You sighed, wiping your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose. "I take it you heard everything?"

"Yeah, I think so," he said. "Um...I didn't know that he..."

You shrugged. "You're his biggest insecurity and I keep telling him he has no reason to be so damn jealous, but he just...always has been."

Steve raked a hand through his slowly drying hair. "Yeah, that might've been because I was a bit of a dick to him in high school?"

"Might've?" you questioned with a scoff. "Steve, you were the unkind bastard who made him the butt of every joke the moment you stepped in the high school, and Tommy was your reinforcer. It only got worse after you left."

Steve wanted to crawl into himself and disappear. "I...I know, and I'm really sorry about everything, I really wish I could just take it all back, but..."

"No," you said. "Stop apologizing, Steve. I know you're not like that anymore. Believe me, I know, Robin told me everything. It's just that Eddie... He doesn't exactly let go of things easily. So no matter how many times I tell him he's enough as he is, he sees you and his vision goes green with envy."

"I'm sorry," Steve whispered.

You shook your head. "It's not your failing." You huffed a sigh. "I would just hope that after six, nearly seven goddamn years with him, he'd finally get a grip and realize I...I want to be with him. I want to always be with him." You laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You know, when I first met him, I knew I wanted to be his best friend. And then when we finally started dating, I knew I wanted to marry him. Less than a month in and I knew that's what I wanted and now—" You stopped, your eyes growing watery. "Now I'm not so sure."

Steve winced. "Yeah, I know that feeling," he said, glancing back outside. The tension was palpable. "Are you two...gonna be okay? I don't want to be the cause of..."

"If things keep going sour between Eddie and I, it's not your fault," you promised him. "It's just Eddie not being able to grow up and move on from...from petty high school drama."

"Don't you worry, Dustin'll set him straight," Steve said. "He did for me, at least."

You dragged a hand through your wet hair, mirroring Steve's earlier action. "Yeah, but Dustin's a hell of a lot closer to you than he is to Eddie. You're...you're like Dustin's big brother. And I've seen the two of you together, I know you'd do anything for each other. Eddie, though? Not so much. He's...he's more of a mentor than family. And he doesn't take well to people telling him what to do."

You leaned on the countertop and put your head in your hands, letting out a long breath.

"Can I...get you anything?" Steve asked.

You glanced over at his fridge. "Got any wine coolers?"

"Uh...I've got sangria? My mom loves the stuff."

"That'll do."

Steve passed you a bottle. You took a long swig.

"Look at us," you muttered. "We should start a club. We just need a shorter name for 'people who have found the love of their lives and lost them.'"

Guilt tore through Steve's gut. "Hey, you'll talk him around. If you've been together seven years and made it this far, surely you can patch up a fight over little old me, right?"

"Nothing about you is little," you said. Awkward silence fell as Steve tried not to take that the wrong way. "Oh, God, I'm sorry, that sounds so wrong." You groaned. "I get mad at Eddie for being dirty, and now I'm—"

"Hey, no, there's a difference. Eddie was being dirty on purpose, you weren't. It just...came out wrong," Steve added with a laugh.

You rubbed your hand over your face and joined him at the window, looking out. Your gaze soured the moment you saw Eddie sulking with a soda in hand.

"I'm... I don't wanna go back out there," you said, voice hushed. "I don't want to have to try and pretend everything's normal when it's not. Not when I just wanna punch him and I feel like it's all ending and gonna come crashing down any second."

"You'll patch things up," Steve insisted, simultaneously proud of himself for putting you and Eddie first, and so very annoyed he couldn't be selfish just this once.

People are not something to be selfish about, he reminded himself.

"Not if I go back out there right now," you said. "I'll just make things worse if I try talking to him when we're both so angry." You bit your lip. "Will you...will you tell him I'm going home to cool down? That I'll talk to him later?"

"I'll tell him," Steve promised. "You could stay here, if you wanted, so you can talk later? I've got a guest room set up if you wanna hang out there for a little bit—"

You shook your head. "I'm pretty sure it'll just piss him off more. He'll see it as me taking comfort in you and...and...and cheating on him, probably. He's...dramatic that way."

Steve nodded. "Alright, fair point." He tried giving you a smile. "I'll see you soon, okay? Let me and Robin know how things go with him."

You nodded and wrapped the towel tighter around yourself. "I will. Thanks, Steve. For letting me talk."

He nodded. "Anytime." He watched you disappear around the corner and heard the front door open and close softly. He sighed, picking up the two beers and bringing them outside.

Eddie looked up. "Where is she?" he demanded.

"She went home," Steve said, handing him the beer to distract him. "She said she needed to cool down and that she'd talk to you when she's calm." In the face of Eddie's anger, he added, "She just doesn't want to make things worse right now, okay, man? Just let her be."

Eddie sneered at him. "Oh, she told you that, did she?"

"You can leave, too, y'know," Steve said, an edge to his voice. "She's trying to save your relationship, not make it worse. She doesn't want to lose you but God knows you don't deserve her, not when you treat her like this."

Eddie's entire body was twitching. "I don't deserve her? Who the fuck are you to tell me—"

"A concerned friend," Steve snapped. "Now get out."

The two boys glared at each other until Eddie rolled his eyes.

"Fuck this, man," he muttered, grabbing his things with far more force than necessary. He stormed out without a goodbye to the kids, who were watching on in awkward confusion.

After a few moments of silence, Dustin asked, "Steve...?"

"Yeah, Henderson?"

"What just happened?"

Steve hesitated. "They're just...fighting a little."

"Will they be okay?"

Steve glanced back toward his house, hearing Eddie's van start up on the other side. "I don't know."

~❊~

Nobody heard from you or Eddie for several days.

Robin worried about you constantly, often pausing mid-action at work to wonder aloud what had happened to you. Steve was surprised it took her as long as it did to ask him what you had said to him in his kitchen, and he explained it to her as best as he could remember the conversation.

Dustin showed up randomly toward the end of one of Steve's shifts, the kind where Robin stayed to close and Steve went home as the sun set to either go on a terrible date or be bored out of his mind.

"Steve?"

Steve sighed at the sound of his voice. "What do you want, Henderson?"

"Can I have a ride to Eddie's?"

Steve frowned. "What do you want with Munson?"

Dustin raised his brows. "Oh, he's Munson again, is he?"

Steve shrugged. "You heard how he talked to his girl. You saw how he was acting. He'll be Munson until he can prove he's not an asshole."

Dustin processed for a minute, then shrugged, accepting the explanation. "I left the papers for the campaign I'm planning his trailer, I need to go back for them."

"Really? That's what you want me to drive you for?"

Robin poked him in the side. "Hey—doesn't matter what he needs a ride for, you can go talk to Eddie. Find out what happened between those two."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Robin, he doesn't want me of all people there. I'm the reason they're fighting in the first place!"

Robin gave him a shove toward the door. "Go! It's the end of your shift anyway, you'll be fine."

Steve grumbled, but he scooped up his keys and headed for the door. "Alright, Henderson, let's go. But if I get yelled at by Munson for existing, you're backing me up, got it?"

"Thank you!" Dustin clasped his hands together, holding them over his chest in mock worship. "I'll make it up to you, I promise!"

"By backing me up," Steve insisted.

Dustin sighed. "Yeah, sure."

"Was that a sigh?" Steve asked, getting into his car.

"Oh, shut up." Dustin slammed the door of Steve's car shut. "Oh, Suzie called me this morning, too, she said she wants to come visit this summer and meet you guys."

Steve raised an eyebrow, more focused on backing out of his parking space than Dustin's words. "Oh, yeah? There's not much of summer left— Wait, she wants to meet us?"

Dustin nodded. "Well, yeah. I talk about you all the time."

"Who's us, exactly?"

"Oh, you know. Max, Lucas, Mike, El, Erica, Eddie, Robin...you," he added, suddenly shy. At Steve's side glance, he continued, "I talk about you guys all the time, you think she wouldn't want to meet you?"

"Aw, Dustin," Steve said, biting back a smile. "You sentimental dork."

"Says you!"

The rest of the car ride was spent listening to Dustin recount his latest conversation with Suzie, which he had somehow still not gotten to the end of by the time Steve pulled into the trailer park. He pulled up beside Eddie's trailer, his heart in his throat.

Your car was parked next to Eddie's van.

"Looks like they made up," Dustin said.

"Yeah, I guess so," Steve said.

Dustin glanced at him over his shoulder. "At least Eddie can't yell at you now, right?"

"I don't think them making up will stop him," Steve muttered. He cleared his throat. "Come on, let's make this quick."

Dustin practically skipped to the door and yanked it open, Steve trailing behind him, much more apprehensively. He narrowed his eyes when Dustin stopped dead, just feet inside the trailer, and turned around to face him.

"Uh...Steve?"

"Yeah?" Steve stepped into the trailer, and Dustin no longer needed to explain his wariness. The smell of weed, sweat, and sex washed over Steve immediately. His eyes watered. "Oh, Jesus..."

They crept a little bit further down the short hallway leading to Eddie's bedroom. Seconds later, a woman's loud moan reached them, coupled with a man's loud, dirty, verbal encouragements.

Steve clapped his hands over Dustin's ears. "Oh my God."

Dustin was red, but he looked up at Steve with an exasperated expression regardless. "Like you're any better!" He looked back toward the door. "Now what?"

Steve glanced back at the door, trying not to imagine what you and Eddie were doing behind it. Your next gasp was loud and breathy, followed by Eddie's groan of, "You close, baby?"

"Yes, Eddie, oh, God—" You cut yourself off with an abrupt cry that tapered off into a whine.

Steve's ears were ringing. He felt his heart rip in his chest, like the very muscles of his heart had torn, spilling his blood with reckless abandon.

"We should go," Steve said, in answer to Dustin's question. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth.

"Too much, Eds, it's too much!" you whimpered behind the door. "Oh, God, Eddie, please—"

"I gotcha, baby, I gotcha," he crooned. Steve felt resentment bubble up inside him, almost too quick and too angry to tamp down.

"Go?" Dustin echoed.

Steve snorted. "What, you want to wait until they're done?" he demanded, trying to steer Dustin toward the door. Even without the lewdness of it all, he knew he needed to get out of the trailer as fast as possible. It was embarrassing, shameful, how quickly his disgust was overtaken by horny curiosity. He knew that, long after he left the trailer, he would still hear your moans and whimpers echoing in his ears.

He knew something was up when Dustin just stared at him, then turned back to the door.

"Dustin, no—"

"EDDIE!"

Steve groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Oh, you've gotta be kidding me."

The trailer was awkwardly silent. Then Eddie said, in a low voice, "Did you hear that?"

"I think Dustin's in the trailer," you whispered. "Oh my God, Eddie, Dustin's in your trailer and we're—" You squeaked. "Eddie, Jesus Christ, now is not the time—" You whimpered again.

Steve knew his entire face was red. Probably his ears and neck, too. He felt like he was burning up, and he couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or shame or pure need.

"EDDIE!" Dustin shouted again.

"He doesn't give up, does he?" Eddie asked from behind the door. The two of you moaned in tandem and Steve felt his body flash with heat and cold. "Where'd my pants go?"

"On the floor where you threw them," you said. "Toss me my clothes, please."

Steve turned on his heel. "Alright, this is your problem now, I'm waiting in the car. If you're not back in...in ten minutes, I'm leaving without you!"

He left the trailer and shut the door behind him as quickly as he could. He got in his car and slammed the door shut, letting out a long breath. He slid down in his seat, practically melting into the pleather, and covered his face with his hands.

I'm never going to be able to look at her again, he realized. The sound of you falling apart for Eddie was going to be a track that played in his brain on a loop every single time you showed up to gatherings.

That is—if you or Eddie ever showed up again. It wouldn't surprise Steve if this had been the last straw for the both of you.

He wanted to curl up in on himself. He wanted to run to Robin and freak out. He wanted to know why he never wanted to hear anything like that again but also wanted to hear you for eternity.

I feel so goddamn gross.

Steve pressed his palms into his eyes with a groan.

At least the door was closed, right?

The passenger door opened. Dustin was clutching his D&D things to his chest, but he seemed more worried than relieved. "Uh, Steve—"

A hand shot through the open driver's side window. It wrapped around Steve's shirt collar and yanked him up from where he'd slunk in shame.

Steve made eye contact with a very angry Eddie.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Eddie demanded.

"Driving Dustin!"

"You were listening to me fuck my girlfriend, you perv? Yeah, my girlfriend, Harrington! Mine! You get off on this?" Eddie's gaze dipped into the car. Steve glanced down at the same time.

"Leave him alone, Eddie, he wasn't doing anything!" Dustin growled.

"What the hell, man?!" Steve snapped. "No! I only stopped by to drive Dustin to get his shit for your stupid game! You're the one fucking her nasty, even after Dustin made it obvious he was here!"

Eddie sneered. "Sure, man, say what you want. I know you just want to get your hands on her, after she came crying to you in your big, empty house. Bet you would've fucked her there in the kitchen, wouldn't you?"

"Eddie!" Dustin yelled.

The door to the trailer slammed open and you marched out, dressed and furious, your hair still a tangled mess and your skin blotchy with exertion.

"Edward fucking Munson, don't you dare touch him!" you ordered. "Sorry for my language, Dustin. Eddie! Away from the car!"

Eddie's anger had lifted, but only a little. "Baby, you can't seriously be sticking up for him, he was listening to us!"

You rolled your eyes at him. "Yeah, like your exhibitionist ass is gonna complain! Steve left, Eddie! He left us to do our thing and Dustin only stayed because he needed something from you. It's you who didn't stop when you knew they were here! And you're calling Steve the pervert?"

"Oh, you're gonna stick up for him now?" Eddie sneered.

"Damn right I am!" You glanced over at Dustin, your expression softening. Steve had never seen you so angry before. You were terrifying when you were pissed. "Dustin, get in the car and get out of here. I'll take care of this." You made eye contact with Steve, who nodded once.

As soon as Dustin was in the car, Steve peeled away from the trailer. Out of his rearview mirror, he saw you and Eddie start shouting again, before you flipped him off and went back in the trailer. When you came out again, just as Steve pulled out of Forest Hills, you had an armful of clothes and you got into your car and left.

"I'm sorry," Dustin whispered.

Steve did a double-take in his direction. "Sorry? What are you sorry for? I'm sorry! If I'd known the two of them were gonna be going at each other, I would never have let you go inside!"

"Yeah, but I made Eddie mad at you again."

"Dustin, listen to me very closely. This is not on you. Got it? This is Eddie being immature over a woman and being insecure of himself and taking it out on me." Steve raked a hand through his hair. "Listen, none of this has to...change how you view him—"

"Of course it does," Dustin interrupted. "He's my friend, sure, but you're my best friend, and he's treating you like shit for something you didn't do!" He shook his head. "I can't just...let it happen."

Steve sat in shock for a while. Maybe Robin was right; Eddie had never replaced Steve, not to Dustin. "Thanks, man," Steve said quietly. "I...I appreciate it."

~❊~

Half-covered by his blankets, Steve laid on his stomach, head turned to the right, toward his nightstand. He'd cleared off most of its clutter, leaving behind only his radio, his lamp, his alarm clock, and a photo of him, Robin, Dustin, and Erica.

He reached past the photo to the dial knob of his radio. He switched through stations, listening for a few moments before turning the knob again.

"I've seen it before, it happens all the time—"

"Men of five, still alive through the raging glow—"

"Streetlights, people, living' just to find emotion—"

"Oh daddy dear, you know you're still number one—"

"And if you say run, I'll run with you—"

"I wanna tell her that I love her, but the point is probably moot—"

Steve groaned, shutting the radio off. He curled up in a ball under the covers. He hated that he felt as miserable as he did, unsure why he did, when he'd spent the entire car ride assuring Dustin they couldn't do anything to fix yours and Eddie's failing relationship.

"Because it's my fault," Steve muttered into his pillow. "It's my fault. If I'd never gotten to know them, then Eddie wouldn't be jealous of me." He rolled onto his back, his legs getting twisted in his blankets. "And I wouldn't have ruined her life."

Steve covered his face with his hands, groaning into them. "Fuck." He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting against tears. "How do I always screw this shit up?"

He laid in silence, staring at his ceiling, too hot with the blankets but too cold without them, so he settled for leaving them at his hips. He stared at his white, blank ceiling; at his horrible, plaid walls; at the boring wall art he left up only because his father insisted on it.

It was well-past midnight, but Steve's brain wouldn't shut off. He wished he could blame the red glow his alarm clock was casting around the room looking a little too much like the Upside Down, but it wasn't cutting it tonight. He saw right through his own excuses.

He sniffled and wiped at the tears gathering on his lashes. "Goddamnit, Harrington."

He was jolted out of his self-pity by a loud rapping at his window. He startled, whipping his head toward the window. His eyes widened at the sight of you waving at him through it.

"Hi, Steve," you said, your voice muffled by the glass.

Steve yanked his blankets up to his chest, drawing a giggle from you. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

"I need to talk to you," you said. "About earlier."

He flinched. "I'm sorry about that, I wish I'd never walked in on you guys."

"You didn't technically walk in on us," you said. "Besides, it's not like it matters anymore."

"Huh?"

You looked away from him, clearing your throat. "Are you gonna open this window and let me in or what?"

"I—I can't!"

"Why not? It's cold and my fingers are going numb out here!"

"I'm—" Steve's body flashed with heat again, his cheeks practically burning. "I'm not wearing anything!"

You rolled your eyes. "Like that's ever stopped you before. Whatever happened to Mr. Confident? Mr. Suave? Mr. Sex?"

Steve huffed, staring back up at his ceiling. "Yeah, I haven't been like that for a long time. And after what happened with Eddie today, I don't think you seeing me naked is a good idea."

"Yeah, that doesn't really matter anymore. It's done. I broke it off."

Steve nearly cracked his neck looking back over at you. "What?"

"Open the window and I'll explain. That's why I'm here, Steve."

Steve glanced down at himself, then at the floor where his boxers and pants lay. "Close your eyes and let me get my pants on, okay?"

You nodded and shut your eyes, squeezing them tight so Steve could see. He pulled the blanket away from himself and yanked on his clothes, then pulled open the window. You yelped, momentarily losing your balance. Steve lunged, grabbing both your hands and helping you through the window without falling.

"Warn me next time you open the window, Stevie, Jesus." You clung to his forearms.

Steve walked backwards until his legs hit the bed. He sat, pulling you to sit next to him. "You broke up with Eddie? What happened?"

You sighed. "I...I'd had enough. Enough of him nitpicking you and being a dick when all he ever complained about was how you did the same thing to him and people he knew in high school. I'd had enough of the hypocrisy and the bitching and the fighting. No matter how many times I told him that he didn't need to be scared of you because I loved him to death, he just stayed angry and defensive and insecure. It...it starts to wear at your after a while, you know?"

Realization struck Steve. "This has been going on for a lot longer than we all thought, hasn't it?"

You nodded. "I...I didn't tell anyone, not even Robin. How could I? How selfish of me would it be to complain about a relationship I'd had for seven years not being enough anymore? Not when Robin can't even tell people who she loves because this town would kill her for it! Not when you were trying so damn hard to find love, and I was...ready to throw it all away. Not when most people would give anything, anything to be known and to be loved by someone the way...the way Eddie loved me."

"How long have you two been struggling?"

"About a year," you whispered. "Ever since...since he died and came back, he hasn't been the same."

"I mean, not many of us have," Steve said, but you were already shaking your head.

"It wasn't like that for Eddie. Sure, he had his nightmares and his flashbacks just like the rest of us, but... He changed. He's not the Eddie I remember. He— He got mean. Nasty. Started fights he couldn't finish, with me, with other guys at bars. He reminded me more of Billy than of himself." You looked down at your hands. "Eddie hasn't been the boy I fell in love with for a long time. He's gone and I don't know if he's ever coming back, but I can't wait around for him."

"What do you mean?"

"My sweet, gentle Eddie is gone. The Eddie that I know would come running back to me within an hour of me telling him to go fuck himself is gone. If he was still in there, he would have called me already. He would have showed up at my doorstep on his knees, begging me to come back, and—" Steve started to protest. "No, Steve, listen to me. I know he would have, because he did." You wiped at your eyes. "Back in high school, in our junior year. He, um, he fell into drugs, hard and fast. Got addicted to opioids."

"Jesus Christ," Steve whispered.

"Yeah," you said. "There was hell to pay when Wayne found out. He'd been doing Eddie's laundry, and there was— It was still in his pocket. It fell out. Wayne flipped out. I hadn't even known until Wayne sat the two of us down to yell at us about it, until he realized I was just as pissed and as clueless as he was." You brushed a tear off your cheekbone. "I broke up with him that night. He wouldn't give me any answers, he wouldn't tell me where he got the drugs, why he got into them. I... I compared him to his dad. Lowest blow I'd ever handed him. We were split for three hours before he was at my door and spilling his guts."

"How many hours has it been this time?" Steve asked, unsure if he wanted the answer.

"Six," you whispered. You choked on a sob, falling into Steve's shoulder.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry," he whispered. He wrapped his arm around you and took your hand in his almost unconsciously.

"It's over, and if he's not willing to make an effort, then I'm done," you said. "I've been done. I'd just...I'd hoped he'd pull himself together, but...he remained an asshole." You laughed bitterly. "I guess the 'I love you's kinda fall short when I stop meaning them. When I only say them in public or when he fucks me after we fight to try and make it seem like we're okay again."

You drew your legs up, curling into a ball similar to the one Steve had been in before your arrival. Steve laid his head atop yours, which seemed to put you at ease as you relaxed against him.

"You know, I stopped enjoying it. Sleeping with him, I mean. It started about a month ago. I think that's when I really knew it was over, when I started thinking I needed to find a way to break it to him gently. Obviously that didn't happen."

"Didn't seem like he gave you much of a choice," Steve said into your hair.

"He didn't," you whispered. You looked up at him, your expression knitting into nervousness. "And...this doesn't have to mean anything, but I...I feel like I owe it to you. That you deserve to know."

"Know what? About Eddie?"

You shook your head, hesitated, then nodded. "Sort of. It's just, um... Maybe he did have a reason to be scared of you."

Steve blinked. Did you mean...? "Um, you're gonna have to clarify, in case I'm having one of my moments, as Dustin calls them, and I'm interpreting this completely wrong."

"I know it...it sounds sketchy and I don't blame you if it bothers you, because I mean, Nancy kind of did the same thing with Jonathan and that was not a good start to his conversation, oh my God." You put your head in your hands.

Steve pried your hands away from your face. "No, no, no. Look at me, honey, please. Talk to me. It's okay. Take your time, it'll come out the right way eventually, right?"

You nodded slowly. "So... You remember how I said Eddie was insecure and intimidated by you because you were everything he wasn't?"

"Yeah."

"He was always afraid I'd leave him for someone like you. Or just you, in general. He was afraid that one day I'd wake up and realize that I didn't have to date my best friend, that he wasn't my only option, that half the basketball team would sell out their families to sleep with me. There was a time when I got asked out every other day by a different boy on the team, and Eddie was so scared that one day I'd say yes. And then you... You became the basketball champion. Hawkins High adored you and you were this perfect golden child with rich parents and your choice of friends, girls, whatever you wanted.

"I'll be honest, I wanted nothing to do with you at first. The first two years I knew you, I knew you from basketball. And I didn't really know you, I knew of you. I couldn't have cared less about you then. And then I went to college for another two years, and you weren't anywhere. Those were...the golden years for me and Eddie, really. He was insecure of himself, sure, but not of our relationship.

"Then...then all that shit happened. I came back for break and Eddie was fucking accused of murder. Murdering my neighbor, no less, a girl I'd grown up with and who Eddie had an embarrassing middle school crush on. And I watched you protect him and everyone else without a care in the world for what happened to yourself. And...and maybe Eddie saw it, just a little, but he started to get worried again."

"Saw what?" Steve whispered.

"How in awe of you I was," you said. "How much I admired that you would do anything for these people because you loved them with your heart and soul. You were nothing like the Steve I remembered in high school and I liked this version better—I still like you better now than I ever did in high school. And...I guess the way you are with Dustin? It kind of reminds me of...of me and Chrissy. And I think that's where Eddie first started to realize he was in trouble in our relationship."

"He started to be afraid of me stealing you again?" Steve guessed.

You nodded. "He didn't really do anything before he died, he was...scared out of his mind. And I can't really blame him for that. But when he came back, all his fears got worse. It was like...everything heightened, I guess? And then he started acting like a dick and I fell out of love with him and—" You clapped a hand over your mouth. "Oh my God, I said it." You bit your lip. "I said it. Jesus Christ. Um. That was..."

"Take your time," Steve said. You leaned into him, sucking in a deep breath and fighting back your tears.

"I'm...I'm okay. Um. I, ah... I fell in love with someone else."

Steve's chest squeezed. "And Eddie automatically assumed it was me because he'd always been afraid of me?"

You nodded slowly. "Sort of. Add gasoline to the fire that I couldn't really fight him on it because he assumed correctly, and he knew me too well for me to hide it."

It felt like all the breath had been punched out of Steve's lungs. "He assumed correctly?"

"It was you, Steve," you whispered. "You were the one who was there for me, not Eddie. You were there when he died and I needed somebody but everyone else was dealing with their own grief. You were there, not him, not after he came back from the dead and wasn't the same as he used to be. You checked in on me, asked me how I was doing every time I saw you, when most times Eddie didn't ask and he saw me every damn day. And when you didn't see me, you were still there, checking up on me through Robin."

Steve blushed. "How'd you know it was me?"

"Robin's not exactly the best at being subtle," you said. You rubbed the back of your neck. "So...that's it. I liked you and I didn't know how to tell Eddie, so I...let it be until things exploded." You looked at your hand in Steve's resting in your lap. "And if that's weird for you, I apologize. I just...needed to tell somebody, and if I told Robin, it would get back to you anyway, so...might as well have told you on my own terms."

Steve processed for a moment. "You know what?"

"What?" you whispered, clearly scared of what he was about to say.

"I'm glad you told me."

"What?"

"I...thought you would have known by now, because I'm not exactly subtle either, and Robin says I'm really bad at hiding when I have a crush on someone. But, um..." Steve brushed his thumb across your knuckles. "The first day I saw you, two years ago in Family Video... God, I knew I loved you then. You were just perfect, pretty and focused looking for movies. Almost broke my heart when I realized you were with Eddie. Robin tried to, uh, break the fall a little bit but, um..." He laughed sardonically. "Here I am, two years later, still pining."

You giggled, pushing yourself closer to him. "Gotta say I'm glad you're still pining."

"Yeah," Steve said with a little laugh.

You smiled. "Oh, I love that laugh." You bit your lip. "It's been a long time since I heard a boy laugh because of me."

Anger flickered over Steve's face. "I swear to God, every time you tell me more about how he treated you, I just wanna punch him."

"Please don't," you said. "I know every time you get in a fight, that pretty face gets punched." You reached up, brushing your fingertips over his cheek. "I couldn't stand to see that."

Steve smiled, his cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink. "You're so sweet," he whispered, bending to press his forehead against yours.

After a moment, you threw yourself down on the bed, tugging Steve down with you. He braced himself with his arms on either side of your head.

"Oh, hello there," he said, grinning down at you. His hair fell into his face and he flicked his head slightly to get it out of his eyes, wanting to see you clearly in this moment. He brushed some of your own hair out of your face, then let his thumb rub your temple.

You looped your arms around his neck, your fingers toying with his hair. "Hi," you said back, voice quiet and coy. You smiled up at him, ran your gaze down his body, his shirtless chest, then brought your eyes back to his.

"God, sweetheart, I just wanna..." Steve caught himself, licking his lips nervously. "Would it be weird if I kissed you after you and Eddie were, um, y'know..."

You shook your head. "I've wanted you to kiss me for a long time, Steve."

"Can I?" he asked.

You smiled up at his small, hopeful voice. "Please, Steve."

He leaned down, guided by your looped arms, until his lips touched yours. The soft, gentle kiss was quick, barely a touch, until you tugged him back down to you, sighing into his mouth. Steve moaned softly, adjusting to prop himself up on his elbows, cradling the side of our face with one of his hands.

Steve pulled back. You whined, trying to tug him back down, until he said, "Wait, wait. One sec. You okay with tongue?" You whimpered and he grinned. "I'll take that as a yes."

He bent his head down again, kissing you softly. You moaned softly into him, opening your mouth for him. As his tongue slipped into your mouth, you yanked him down to lay on your body.

"Steve," you mumbled into his mouth. "Steve."

"Yeah, baby?"

You squeezed him tightly. "Thank you. For...for everything."

Steve smiled at you. "Oh, honey. I'll be here as long as you let me."

You stared up at him, your eyes wide and round, words in them that you seemed unsure if you wanted to say.

Steve kissed you deeply. "You don't have to say it, honey, not yet. Take your time. I know."

"Oh, Steve," you breathed, your fingers fanning over his cheek. "Steve, you're perfect. You..."

He nuzzled into your neck, placing delicate kisses there. "How far are you willing to go?"

"Not too far tonight," you said, fighting your embarrassment. "Eddie wasn't exactly...gentle...earlier. I'm...kinda sore. And not sure if I'm ready to go very far just yet. I might need some time."

"I get it," Steve whispered. "It's okay. I know this is a lot happening really fast."

You nodded. "Thanks."

Steve kissed you again. "You wanna stay with me tonight, though? We don't have to do anything you're not up for."

You smiled at him. "I'll stay."

"Can I hold you all night?"

You giggled. "Steve, you keep kissing me like that and you can hold me forever."

He grinned. "Might as well get on with it then, huh?"

You squealed as Steve tickled you, pushing you into his bed with a needy, wet kiss. He threw the covers over the two of you and turned around to shut off the lamp on his nightstand. He turned on the radio, keeping it a soft, low volume—loud enough to be romantic, quiet enough to fall asleep to.

Steve gathered you up in his arms and pulled you to his chest. "I'm glad you're here."

"I'm glad you're here, too, Steve."

Bruce Springsteen crooned into the dark of Steve's room. "You can't start a fire without a spark—"

Steve held you tight and brought his lips to yours, and you exchanged short, lazy, loving kisses in the dark, the kind of kiss that said all the words it was still too early to say.

"This gun's for hire, even if we're just dancing in the dark."

☞ ❊ ☜

Songs Used/Quoted in this Fic:

Jessie's Girl (Rick Springfield)

Dancing in the Dark (Bruce Springsteen)

Let's Dance (David Bowie)

Don't Stop Believin' (Journey)

As Cold As Ice (Foreigner)

For Whom the Bell Tolls (Metallica)

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun (Cyndi Lauper)

Stranger Things // Steve Harrington

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the S.H. taglist!} @ohatropa@nix-rose@live-the-fangirl-life

[tlpthys]

SOYOON in SMOKE SPRITE (dir. lee suho)

tell me more, i could die

[daryldixonsdoormat]

Peeta Mellark x Reader and they smoke together 😈. I have a fixation with him right now

[royalsunshinehotel]

9:45pm (Hassan el-Shabbaz x f!reader, 18+)

Warnings: references to past violence, Social Media saves the day, thigh riding, loss of virginity?, reference to erotophobia, best friends to lovers, unprotected sex.

A year ago, Hassan el-Shabbaz had been shot in the line of duty. Those were his words, but you didn’t believe that cults fell under the jurisdiction of a small town Sheriff. You think of that night as little as possible, and each time you do, you shiver. An evening like this felt impossible back then, and you were here, living it. 

The two of you needed this movie night. The movies were mostly awful, but sometimes you just wanted to sit next to him. 

He was, and is, your responsibility. 

Ever since you hitched a ride in Hassan's airlift back to the mainland, Ali had gotten the impression you were in love with his father.

You were, and you knew if a seventeen year old boy could see it, you hadn't been guarding your feelings as well as you thought.

But that couldn't matter right now. Hassan sets the bowl of popcorn down on the table, on your side of the couch. He'd been scowling for the past few days, his latest medical appointment had been that past Monday. He'd insisted on going alone, and you, his best friend, had said alright.

And of course, the one time you didn't ride the ferry with him, something happened. Technically, it wasn't your business, but he didn't keep secrets from you.

"Did you see Ali this week?" You ask, voice even. With effort, he turns to you.

"Yeah. He's doing good with school so far. Apparently going viral is good with the ladies." You raise an eyebrow, "his words, not mine."

"That's good, that's good. Now how are you?"

He grunts in response, not anticipating you swatting your hand on his arm.

"Somethings up, pal. Talk to me." You order and he gives you the side-eye.

"We can watch the movie at anytime...pal." He replies in a flat tone.

You say nothing

Hassan can't look at your face, because he knows your expression. Your making a pout, but your eyes are wide and soft. You started making this expression when you noticed how quickly he'd cave to you. But now you were worried. The two of you are supposed to be closer than this.

"I don't want to wreck the night."

"Hassan, tell me." You look like you're about to burst into tears, and he knows you well enough to know what your voice sounds like when that happens.

"I got released. This is as good as I'm going to get."

"but you're still doing physical therapy, right?" you question, silently begging him to look at you.

"I am. But I'm weak, and I'm old, and you'll be too polite to say your bored with me."

"That's the dumbest thing you've ever said Sheriff." Did he really think you could leave him after last Easter? You flash on that moment in the church where Hassan was pinned down, and you broke an Instagram live record streaming Father Paul and Beverly Keane poison the parish, and themselves.

"Hassan you got shot. Twice."

"Yeah, I was there. I've found peace with it, but I'm not what I was." What the fuck did that mean?

"You're not supposed to be, that's how guns work. And cults!"

"Okay, yes you're right. But I'm still fucking old. I don't want you to be my nurse!" His tone takes you by surprise. If you were about to cry earlier, you sure were now.

"Then how do you want me?"

Hassan takes your chin in his hand, angling your mouth to his. You gasp sharply, mind barely catching up with your mouth

Hm. Warm. Scratchy.

And as quick as he pulled you in, he pulls away.

"Please don't say anything," he asks, and all you can do is smile- a full, face cracking, sunbeam of a smile.

"Don't do that with your face," grumbles Hassan, trying to keep his so-called "cop-face", but masks were slipping, if not completely gone.

"Why?" You ask.

"I'll have to do this," he pulls you back in again, more fiercely this time, beard scratching your face. You feel winded, but it doesn't matter. You just want to be as close to him as possible.

Hassan feels the same, so when he moves you into his lap, you let him. You'd pictured yourself straddling him before, but the real thing is always better than a dream, you knew that too well.

When you smile, he has to follow suit, it's near impossible not to.

Your mouths slate together with ferocity as pressure in the room releases. Your thoughts, your plans, that had kept you so put together were floating out of your mind with a frightening speed.

It's not until you feel his teeth on your neck that you push him back.

"Hassan, I'm scared. I'm not- I don't do this." Your shaking in his grip, heart pounding in your ears. He moves his hands to your waist, bringing you down. You weren't scared of him, not really. This was just out of your realm of understanding. Only slightly, but still far.

"It doesn't have to be anything past this, we can stop."

"No. No I want more." You declare, Hassan's dark eyes going round looking at you.

"You want more?" He ask, looking you straight in the eye to see your response.

"Yeah." you shake your head for yes, and he grins for the first time in months.

"Let's try this. He says as his fingertips dig into you, helping your pelvis roll against his. Sparks make a home in your bones. The hardness beneath

"Did you like that?" You hold

"S'good." You whine. More, more more.

"Nothing to be afraid of, it's just me, right?"

If your mind had been clear, you would have had him explain every move he made.

"Maybe next time," you think, not questioning that there would be a next time. What you don't realize is that your words were out loud. Hassan was in something of a tailspin thinking about next time.

But he can't let himself go down that rabbit hole. He needs to kiss you until all the thoughts that made your brows furrow disappeared. You

"Hm?"

"Stand up a second," he orders, voice raspy. You obey. Hassan quickly and quietly pulls down your pajama pants, helping you step out of them.

"Use my leg." He says, and you don't quite know what he means, until he pulls you back down into his lap. He makes the same movement as before, only grinding your clit against a muscular thigh. You gasp at the contact, sending electric shocks through your body.

If you had been in a clear frame of mind, you would have worried about the growing wet patch, or that he was uncomfortable with your full weight on top of him, but he rolled you down on him again before you could verbalize your concerns.

"Hassan," It's too good, I don't know what to do. You want to say, years of feelings bubbling up.

"I know, I know." He couldn't know! How could he possibly know how angry and scared he'd had you. How dare he be the hero!

"Good girl, always so good." He praises softly, and your body takes over your mind again.

Rolling, you finish with a sad little whimper, leaning as far into him as you can. He's warm and steady and soft, and you hum in satisfaction,

"Feeling alright, sweetheart?" He asks, moving your hair out of your face.

"More." You set your face into an expression you hoped would come across as stern, but it wasn't. Pulling away from his warmth, your hands take a life of their own. You palm Hassan through his sweatpants, making his breath hitch, before wandering below the waistband and pulling him free.

Is this what people do? Is this how it's always supposed to feel?

It would almost be embarrassing how quickly you lined him up with your heat. If it was anyone else, but it wasn't. It's Hassan.

"Steady, just like that." He coaxes, grabbing your hips and making you slow down. Instinctively, you lean your forehead down against his.

Hassan had many dreams about what it might be like to have you stretched out on his cock like this. For a moment, just a moment, he wishes he'd kept up with drawing do he could capture your sweet little face, trying so hard to be brave, to take all of him that you could.

"Still scary?" He questions as you nuzzle into him.

"No." You hide your face in his shoulder as he rests his palms on your waist.

"Nice and slow." He coaches, but it doesn't last long. There was a shift in you that he didn't

He feels you lose a colorful nail digging into his shoulders, as you meet him halfway, instinct taking over. You're surreal. You're so calm and composed, and here you're grinding into him like an animal, chasing something you couldn't reach by yourself.

Hassan thinks, "Go on, take what you need. Take everything I have and I'll thank you for it."

You flutter around him, and Hassan gapes up at you. Your teeth catch his lower lip as your sheriff makes a strangled sound, trying with everything he had, to keep himself under control.

"Where?" He asks, and it takes you a full second to respond, lost to him and yourself.

"I'm on birth control." Hassan exhales, helping to bounce you a few final times before bringing you as close as he can, feeling you squirm and clench down around him.

The sound that leaves your mouth is a sound you have never made before, but it's not your fault.

The knot in your belly snaps, the levee breaks, the high wire you'd been walking has evaporated beneath your feet, and you were falling.

You take him with you, all the way down. The heat between your legs feels addictive, and correct. Fuck the consequences, the two of you deserved this.

You shiver and shake as he holds you steady. Your pussy still throbbing around him, despite his softening cock. The squelching and gasping the two of you make doesn't feel real.

None of this feels real, but then again, Easter had been a once-in-a-lifetime traumatic event, why couldn't he keep you here, like this.

Hassan had many dreams about what you would look like filled with him. Youre delicate, worn out, just as exhausted. Here you were, a more beautiful picture than he ever would have been able to dream up.

Hassan keeps you wrapped around him on the couch. He wanted to ask what you meant by "I'm scared." If it had something to do with last Easter, he'd have to introduce you to his therapist. If you'd overcome a phobia to have him like this, he'll have to make it up to you tenfold.

Though it's not like that would take any effort. The moment he set foot on this island, you had him. It was just a law of nature.

Your sheriff tells you that he loves you, quietly, pressing the words into your shoulder. The two of you stay still, listening to the bugs hum outside.

[ghoulishsleep]

THE DOCTOR | Part 4 | The Mandalorian

< PART 3 | Part 5 >

GIF by akariownsyasuke

SUMMARY: The Child makes progress, and the Mandalorian keeps busy.

PAIRING: eventual Din Djarin x OC afab!reader (no physical descriptions; reader has relatives, a surname, and backstory/personality)

WORD COUNT: +2.2k

A/N: That took a minute 👀 What I originally wrote didn't really work imo, so I had to scrap it and rework the idea for this part. I kind of settled on this bit, so I hope it all works. I know it's slow, but we're ~easing into it~. Double-ish my usual WC to make up for the time. I have a poll thingy on Google Forms, if anyone would like to drop some feedback (anonymously!) because I’m curious. Thank you for reading ❤️ and I hope you enjoy! Oh! Also, this officially takes place at some point before Episode 7: The Reckoning.

WARNINGS: Slow burn. (I guess?) Mention of offscreen/prior Din x Omera, or at least ✨something✨ between them.

-

When your father passed, operating the clinic without him or returning home to a silent abode felt strange. Your old man was always up to something, the air alive with his hum or the bustle of a side project. Of course, you were thankful for your brother-droid’s company – you don’t know how you would have navigated such a loss without him – but 2-1B just didn’t occupy space in the same way as another creature of flesh and blood.

Once lively lulls quickly became cavernous, and though your lone companion never voiced his feelings (did droids feel? you think so), you both needed to adjust, and it took time. Lots. 

You filled the air with music or audiobooks for many cycles, even asking 2-1B to just talk. At some point, you reached a point where you could wean away from the drone of background noise, and comfortable silences once again became commonplace in your home. You hadn’t considered your readjustment to organic noise when you offered the Mandalorian and his foundling a place to stay.

You weren’t opposed – just surprised.

For his first four days in your home, you hardly see or hear the Mandalorian, who evidently picked up work from old Kasa on her farm. In exchange for a generous sum, she kept him busy from when you left in the morning until nearly dusk, though you couldn’t tell it from how the man carried himself. Kasa was an appreciated community pillar, so he’d evidently made quite the impression by how her word quickly swirled and shifted their perception of the “metal man” to “Mando.”

Having the Child around had been a small joy, particularly around dinnertime. While the Mandalorian rested, you had entire conversations with the expressive baby, whose eyes and ears conveyed as much as his spirited trills and gurgles. His propensity to you made it easy to take his vitals at both mealtimes, and you were pleased to report that he would quickly be ready to leave your watch.

Your being starstruck waned, and though you shared few words throughout the days, you were comforted by the fact he remembered you, some college kid he’d met ten years ago. The bit of time you shared, between the Child going to sleep and dinner being done, was often bridged by quiet, and the Mandalorian nearly melting into the couch in the den. At the same time, you fiddle around with things and pipe up an odd question about his work for Kasa or what you heard from the old folks’ rumor mill before parting ways for the evening.

On your fifth morning with the pair, you wake to distant sounds in the kitchen and bolt upright, heart pounding and mind racing to where the blaster rifle is tucked away in your closet. You nearly reach the closet door – when you realize why you hear the noise. Who you’re hearing.

You glance at the clock and see the glow of 04:07 and groan. Perhaps the silver lining is that you can get an extra early jump on the day?

The pneumatic door announces your presence before gentle footfall does, dampened by soft slippers. Squinting against a lone light in the kitchen, you find the Mandalorian standing at the open door of the cooling chamber. The Child is sitting on the counter, watching his guardian expectantly, and there’s a slowly steaming pan on the stove.

You can’t help staring – you’re confused, coming off a disorienting mix of adrenaline and sleep.

“Sorry. The kid was hungry, and I didn’t want to wake you.” The Mandalorian shuts the cooling chamber and turns like a child caught sneaking sweets. You almost laugh, but your languor wins, leaving you with a pleasant smile.

“Well, I appreciate the effort. Can I give you a hand, or have you got it?” 

The helmet turns from you to the stove and back. Then comes a cautious answer, “I’ve got it.”

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it. But let me know if you change your mind.” You make sure to look into his visor pointedly (or as much so as you can muster), to which the Mandalorian nods. 

He maneuvers the space carefully around you as you set a pot of caf to brew, methodically grinding the beans and measuring water as though ritual – and, to you, it is. Most mornings began with it, unless on a day that 2-1B insisted you take off – then, it was mild, herbaceous tea to set the tone.

You feel the Mandalorian’s eyes on you here and there as you tap out stubborn grounds or climb onto the counter to reach something too high-up, and though you’re sure it’s well-meaning, you hate how it makes your hands tremble. All the while, he did well to fix the Child a bowl of meat and broth despite being unfamiliar with your setup, adding a dropper of medicine and stirring, just as you demonstrated that first evening.

With a cup of caf and your datapad in hand, you assume a comfortable, sleepy silence in the den, scrolling scholarly articles published by Coruscant University. The Mandalorian methodically disassembles and cleans the components of his amban rifle as the dawn bleeds blue and the air is filled with the Child slurping on his breakfast. Come the time the sky is goldenrod, it is of soft snores, with the Child passed out between his guardian and the arm of the couch, porringer still clutched in tiny hands.

The Mandalorian rises, presumably to deposit the little being into bed again for a short nap before the long day ahead. Meanwhile, you get up and fix another cup of caf for yourself and another unaltered one for your guest. When he returns, the confusion is evident in how the visor regards the cup for a beat, then pans to where you linger at the edge of the kitchen.

“Have some caf. It’s going to be a long day,” you sigh, fingers lacing around the front of your cup as you move toward the corridor leading to your room. “I’m going to get ready. It’ll probably be about thirty minutes, so you can relax. 2-1B won’t come out ‘til I’m leaving, and I’ll announce myself, too.”

“Thank you. That’s very kind.” The tone of his voice is dichotomous – flattened by the modulator but almost gentle.

“Of course,” you smile.

-

It’s not often that Din is shown hospitality. He learned very early, once of age to begin venturing out, that most did not take a shine to Mandalorians – they were unreadable and armed to the teeth, and his occupation of choice lent him no favors. Instead, it earned him more disdainful stares as his reputation steadily preceded him, as his notoriety now does. So, he felt fortunate for what unquestioning kindness he received, especially of late. From Kuiil. Omera. Peli. Now you, and even your once-withdrawn neighbors.

Din sighs, and the kid warbles curiously, crumbs from the cookies you’d sent him off with falling from his tiny mouth. Sorgan was only a short time behind them, yet he felt he should feel better about what could be. A life of anonymity – domesticity – peace (possibly with her), dashed by the innumerable blinking fobs in the universe, all pointed at the Child. At him.

“Mando, dear,” Kasa’s voice carries from deep inside her home, resounding off the high curved ceilings. Drawn from his reverie, Din pushes off his knees to stand, meeting the woman at the threshold of her front door. She’s a tiny and kind human with a serene expression framed by wisps of salt-and-pepper hair pulled into a neat braid. He wonders if she has kids – family, somewhere out in the galaxy.

She hands him a woven sachet of credits, whose weight drops firmly into his palm. “Thank you for all you’ve done, truly, and please feel free to come visit if you’re close by,” she beams up at him, patting the orange fingers of his gloved hand tenderly, and Din wishes he could convey the smile that creeps onto his expression.

“I’ll do my best, Kasa. Thank you, ” he ensures, tucking his wage and the Child into his sling bag. Would he survive to? He pushes the thought aside, straightening.

“I look forward to it,” Kasa says earnestly and turns to step back inside. “And please tell the Doctors hello!”

She seems satisfied by his nod and waves to the kid, who babbles around another chunk of a cookie, his own au revoir.

Despite his initial surprise, Din was relieved that Kasa had cut him loose early. She seemed to have an endless list of things needing doing around her property – repairs, things moved, something fetched from so-and-so – just slightly beyond her, so much that he could probably spend weeks helping out. Yet, she took mercy, urging with a matronly touch to relax and enjoy the remainder of his time on Chaira – ”it’s a beautiful place!” Shame he wouldn’t have much more time to take it in.

The main street is a long but straight shot from Kasa’s back to your home, along which Din takes the time to peruse the merchant pop-ups again, espousing many handmade goods or fresh food. Most residents seemed to have a business here, if not the family of arborists up the mountain, providing a diverse array of wares. A skewered crispy creature for the kid and a big paper-wrapped “artisanal” soap block later, he’s on the move again, back toward your residence.

You seem well-loved by the stream of locals he’d noticed stopping in simply to chat. How they watched him intimately, he realizes, is protective of their resident doctor. Din expects to hear your voice spilling into the street when he reaches the clinic, carrying on in some conversation but finds your lone droid sweeping the foyer. The Child coos, prompting 2-1B to turn their way and wave a pincer.

“Out foraging in the hills behind the house. Go past the pond,” he says of you before Din can reluctantly ask.

“Thanks,” he gruffs and sets off that way.

The walk there is refreshing. The back terrace gives way to rugged steps inlaid to the hill, framed by thickets of greenery and dense undergrowth that brush against his greaves and low-hanging branches that tap his helm. It disseminates to undulating hills blanketed in knee-high grasses dotted with vegetation and craggy rock.

He finds you deep in a far gulley, toeing its edge to spy you in its trough. The Child coos, causing you to straighten from behind a bush sporting large umber flowers – one of many around here. A rifle stock peeks over one shoulder, and a woven basket the opposite, brimming with color.

“Mandalorian,” you greet, clearly pleased to see him. Then your expression shifts, eyes dropping to the distinct green ears at his side. “Did you need something? Is the kid alright?”

“He’s fine. I just finished up Kasa’s work.”

“Wow, she let you go?” You raise your brows, circling the bush you’re at to pluck away a few more stems of choice, placed gingerly in the basket. “You know, if you wanted to give up bounty hunting, Kasa could probably use a hand like you. Might be steadier money, though maybe not as much?”

You meticulously pick over the brush for full blooms, leaving behind unopened buds, and fortunately miss how the Mandalorian’s helmet turns, or his fingers clench and release. As appealing as it is, to slip away, such wistful thinking isn’t realistic for someone like him. It would jeopardize more than just him or the Child to stay.

You’ve moved on to another cluster of bushes by the time he follows over, imperceptibly eying the rifle slung over your shoulder. It’s nice if a bit dated – Alliance issue – and looks curious upon your back.

“What do you need that out here for?” he asks, indicating with a nod.

“Dogs,” you say plainly, rising once your basket is full. The helmet inclines dubiously. 

“Dogs?” 

“Big ones. Like, you-size,” you emphasize and gesture a finger up and down to send it home. The Mandalorian scans the expansive field surrounding the gulley, posture tightening. A hand brushes the blaster at his hip, like a gunslinger out of a holofilm. You chuckle.

“They don’t usually prey on us here,” you indulge and begin to climb the steep incline, hands forward to steady yourself. “But if they get sick, they do. So, I carry it just in case.”

The Mandalorian only grunts, retreating a few paces to allow you room as you boost yourself over the top edge.

“So, are you done for the day, or are you done-done?” you ask, dusting off your gloved hands.

He seems to parse over your choice of words, and as you begin to walk in tandem you suspect you’re getting side-eye.

“Done-done,” he says flatly, and you smirk. Following a beat, he continues, “Since the kid is doing well, I think we’ll take off this evening. Need to keep moving.”

Your brow furrows. You want to pull some kind of “executive decision” as the kid’s physician to keep them longer but fall short. Even if you did come up with something, it was selfish (you already got what you want) and you didn’t want to rub the Mandalorian the wrong way.

“Are you on the run?” you ask after a moment, casting the metal man a sidelong glance.

The Mandalorian doesn’t give you an answer.

< PART 3 | Part 5 >

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snarls beneath its breath, which provokes shivers throughout your spine. That wasn't human, not even close to something even a god can produce. It was so quiet, like a whisper in the air, yet it provoked all hair to stand on end. 

"Do not disappoint." Otto's words are hushed in your head, a mere quiet murmur that was nothing short of an order. 

Before you have the chance to respond, your body is hauled upwards to your bare feet with the loincloth and skirt from before now adorning your bottom. You glanced around, noticing that you were alone before touching your cheeks which were void of tears and smudged eyeliner; however, the folds of your feminity still retained the thick, sweet slick from your arousal. 

The ultimate being could have cleaned it away but had not, as if to torture you with that throbbing heat beneath. Or perhaps to provoke your head to cloud with desire and throw yourself to your new target like a harlot.

Another knock steals your attention, which spurs you to clear your throat and saunter over. It's another performance, another rendition to become the most desirable being to the god of death for the entertainment of Otto. 

Upon opening the door to your room, you have to crane your neck to meet molten golden eyes shielding in the shade of the encrusted jackal headpiece.

Something tingles in the air; his radiance and unearthly presence suffocating. The pressure is nearly overbearing, thickening the air to spur you to struggle to breathe naturally. He is infused with power, an existence that should not even exist but does against all odds.

His expression is nonexistent, with a face impassive and stony. He refrains from speaking first as though he awaits for you to...

Oh...

"My lord." You welcome, head dipping down to bow in abasement. "I humbly greet you." 

Something in the back of your head digs its claws into your brain, attempting to provoke your ankles to give out. It wants you to collapse to your knees, and grovel at the god's feet as if you are not even worthy to be in front of him.

Anubis is the patron deity of jackals, yet his own presence orders you to obey his silent command.

Lower yourself like a loyal dog to its owner. 

You're sure it was on purpose, forcing you to acknowledge your place and the prestige of who you are dealing with this evening. He who stands before you is no normal human, no ordinary deity or being of comprehensibility. 

He is the god of death, one of the nine Egyptian Enneads and he demands devotion. 

"Rise." His voice practically drips with superiority, nothing less of his domineering presence. 

You do as told, raising your head to look forward at his built abdomen. His figure is impressive, with a bulkier constitution than Apollo. There was no time to appreciate his figure when you first met or even the quick glance in the weighing room, but now you can appreciate the robust structure.

Not to mention, just like his mother, his limbs are long and lengthy, reigning at an impressive 8ft (243.84cm). Most of his dark skin is shown, scarcely covered in silks but more attired in jewelry. 

Small and insignificant, it's what pours into your stomach and wails as he stands before you. The feeling is similar to something that dwells within, forgotten but remaining from a long time ago. Its familiarity is sickening just as it is welcoming. 

Abruptly his thumb and forefinger snatch your chin and title your head upwards. His touch ignites tingles from the contact that swarm within your tummy. Your vision drifts from the built rows of his abdomen to the wide and flexing pectorals, before settling back once again on plump nude lips and golden eyes. 

He's handsome and unbelievably gorgeous, and the power he holds is mouth-watering. Anubis is a god who reigns supreme, only surpassed by his own father. 

There must be a plethora of goddesses that have thrown themselves to his feet, pleading for just a chance. Not to mention the number of souls who come to the underworld to have their hearts weighed only to be completely bewitched by his otherworldly magnificence. 

"My birth mother practically adores you..." He murmurs more to himself as he tilts your head to the side so he can observe your jaw and the tendon in your neck tightening. "But I do not see the attraction of a mortal such as you." 

There is something inside of you that twinges as if he struck your own pride. For a moment you feel your blood boil, seething beneath the thin layer of skin before inhaling deeply.

You're gorgeous, you're intelligent, you're alluring, you are that woman. You never took the Egyptian deity of death to be such a liar. For his words to be true, he would have strayed from your chambers instead of arriving.

He's ever so busy; death is never-ending, nevertheless, he took the time out of his absurdly busy schedule to visit your room...he may not want you now, but he's interested. 

And that's all you need to get started. 

"My lord~. Please forgive this unworthy one." You drop to your knees as your chin slips from his grasp. His height already far surpasses your own, but something within his stomach must tingle when you give him what he likes. 

Submission

"Only the finest and most meritorious woman should be in the presence of a powerful god such as you." Your head rests upon the back of your hands that obscure a devious grin on your lips. "I would never think of myself good enough for such a deity but if you would let me...I'll do everything I can to please you, My lord. Just tell me what I can do; tell me what to do." 

The way you react is demeaning, basically degrading by giving up your will. But that is the point; it nearly runs your blood hot with excitement at the prospect of 'offering' him that control. From his own radiant and domineering presence, you can tell he is assertive and commanding. 

He is one of the Ennead gods! The deity who guides lost souls and kings through the afterlife, who protects and embalms the dead. He is one of the most important beings to exist in Egyptian mythology, and he knows that. 

Anubis wants control; he needs it. How can he be a deity if there are no worshippers or parishioners that do everything to please him? You don't mind letting him believe that he has it, by offering it with complete 'submission.' 

Even if you must resign your pride and push away your dignity, it's all an act because at the end of the day...it was your decision to let him do what he wanted. Plus, it feels like a dirty little secret knowing that you are just playing around and he is completely unaware of what you truly are.

"You know your place?" Anubis breathes outwards, and you can hear his clothes shift as though he is squatting down in front of your bowing figure. 

Only slightly do you nod your head but you refrain from speaking; he has not permitted it just yet. It seems that your assumption was correct because he hums in a pleased manner and runs his large hand through your hair. 

His fingers are coarse and rough and seething with an unnatural warmth. There's this soothing sensation, like a comforting reward that he is bestowing on you for being good. 

If you were a sweet little cat, you'd probably purr and lean into his palm.

"No wonder my birth mother declared you as the perfect little bride. You are obedient, like a good little girl." 

"Isn't that all you want? To be the perfect little girl?"

You disregard Otto's words and swallow the lump in your throat. It is imperative to perform just the way Anubis likes it. 

"Stand, and you may speak to your god." The Jackal deity commands with a voice that could send trembles through the earth but definitely shoots electricity through your veins. 

"Thank you so much, My Lord." Gingerly you raise your head and body, with his large hand still remaining in your hair. 

His lips display a suave smile, marked with charm and confidence. You had his interest at first, but now you have his attention

You are that woman. 

Abruptly his thick fingers tangle within your locks and tug, forcing your chin to the ceiling as a stinging sensation resonates in your scalp. Your hands fly upwards, unconsciously attempting to grasp his wrist yet you manage to squeeze them to your chest.

"Good." Anubis murmurs and leans down to bend at the waist and hover his lips by your ear. "You know already that you do not deserve to touch me. That is a privilege you must earn." 

Oh, he really wants you to work for it. Apollo was easy; now it appears you must put in a little more labor to corrupt this being. 

"Please, My Lord, My god, My Nesu-" The last part you articulated had not been translated though you could feel the importance of it. "Please tell this unworthy one how to gain that privilege. I'll do anything for you." 

You are not conceited enough to feel shame for begging; in fact, you love it. You love the way it ignites some part of the other person's brain alive, the way it replaces their blood with excitement, and let's not forget the way it drives them utterly insane to hear it again. 

Sure, Anubis can believe that he has all the power, but he'll find out what makes a b*tch. 

"Anything?" He probes, warm breath fanning across your ear and tickling. "Do you understand the intensity of what you state?" 

A grin wants to etch onto your lips; you can practically feel his anticipation, his eagerness in your own blood. The god probably desires to see how far he can push it, and how much you can endure.

He'll learn the hard way, literally. 

"Oh, My Nesu~. Anything and everything. I know I do not deserve it, but I desire you so bad." You speak the sweetest honey, saturated with so much sugar as you tell him exactly what he wants to hear. 

The Egyptian deity pulls away from your ear to lean back. His eyes beneath the Jackal headpiece observes your face, curiously taking in your appearance. 

Does he see the humor in your (e/c) iris' or is it masked by your desperate hunger for gratification? Can he discern the growing smirk on your lips from the way he's already falling into your trap? Perhaps not by how his tongue sweeps over his bottom lip with anticipation.

How ironic when he exists as the god to weigh a deceased's soul, configuring how much sin they've accumulated through their lifetime, only for him to be consumed by it. 

"How would you best like me to show my devotion?" Your question seems to rouse him from somewhere in his mind as he blinks slowly before meeting your gaze. 

"Those are dangerous words, Hemet." Another word not translated, but the physical impact it has on your body proves that it must mean something of great importance. Or maybe it's just a nasty little nickname he has for his abrupt bride. "Can you take it?" 

He has no idea what he has gotten himself into. "I can take you." 

Anubis abruptly yanks your head back, pushing your body out of the way to enter your bed chambers and slam the door behind himself. From the moment he stepped in, he has become your husband in unwritten matrimony. 

A slight yelp seeps from your lips from the searing sting before you are thrust toward your bed. You land on your stomach with your face bouncing against the plush mattress; the loose gold beads from the headpiece Nephthys gave you had clacked and rattled together. 

Scrambling onto your back had barely been fast enough as Anubis' giant form swathes over your own. His knees dig into the round bed by your waist as a single hand holds up his weight above your head. 

The bangles around his bottom and belly chains jingled from the movements as he grinned, sharpened canines displaying through his rows of white teeth. Walnut brown curls peek out from behind his headdress, and your fingers twitch with a yearning to pull them. 

It's practically p*ssy throbbing the way this huge god straddles your little 'ol mortal body and shows you how insignificant you are to him. Oh, you are so tiny, so human in comparison to a deity.

What you would give to have him between your legs, reshaping your insides with that monster beneath his silks. Each thrust would knock the wind out of you, robbing it away with every pound, roll, and rock that jabs right against your sensitive little cervix. 

He'd hurt so good, f*ck he'd tear into your nerves and control every sensation in the most commanding and demanding way possible. 

"Poor little Nymph. Must be torture to only be able to imagine but never fulfill that desire, hmm?" Otto's ethereal tone only reestablishes that deep sense of arousal. 

The memory of his bony hands touching you, caressing your body, is still fresh, and you're still soaked. At this point, you've fallen too deep into that part of your mind you like to disappear to, where shame, guilt, or any shred of rational thinking cannot penetrate. 

Head empty, just big chocolate-skinned god ready to f*ck you up.

"You are cute, Hemet! With that look you bare-" His free hand ghostly skims over your face before ceasing by your lips and plunging his pointer and middle finger into your mouth. His slightly pointed nails dig into the gummy flesh of your cheek as he yanks at the corner. "-I would not have believed that your heart weighed lighter than the feather." 

You want to speak, sweeten him up with some more sugary words however the opportunity right now is too good to pass up. Just like the little sl*t you are, your tongue traces over the rough skin and suckles. 

A laugh snags in your throat, desiring to giggle out because it's funny how right now, he tastes like power. 

Eagerly, practically desperately, you suck on his large fingers as if you've been starved for weeks, and you wouldn't dare let this treat evade you. 

Unconsciously, your thighs are squeezing together with your hips raising and attempting to grind against the wet cloth of your undergarment. It's hot beneath, seething with heat warming the slick spread outwards on your folds. 

It's probably humiliating, becoming so aroused by his mere presence and slender digits within your mouth but you cannot help it. The pressure of his radiance bares weight on your ribs consistently, as though it commands your own lungs when to breathe and when to choke. 

He gives the orders, and you'll listen...for now.  

"If only he knew of how truly disobedient you are. You would go from a submissive wife to a rebellious pet so quickly. We both know he could not handle it." 

'Oh, Otto~. You speak as if you can.' Your 'words' prompt a rumble from its voice in your head that goes straight to your cl*t. 

There's this throbbing sensation that is going along to beat of your heart. It's picking up the pace, growing in strength the longer you suck and taste the god's finger in your mouth.

You're clenching over nothing, begging for any form of relief. 

Abruptly Anubis moves his fingers, no longer yanking at the corner of your lips but plunging down the back of your throat. The action was so sudden that you gagged with eyes enlarging and watering. 

Your fingers almost grasp his thick thighs, almost touching that smooth skin that is nearly completely showing from the way the silks covering his bottom had ridden up. Instead, you grip the sheets beside your body and gurgle. 

"Can you breathe?" The Jackal deity questions, yet the tone is laced with mockery. When you shake your head, he hums and pushes his fingers deeper to where the knuckles of his other fingers dig into your teeth. "Do not respire until your god allows it." 

Your lacquered eyes shimmer in the light from the floating stars before trailing down your face. Make-up begins to smudge and darken around your lids just as the gloss on your lips smeared in such an obscene manner. 

It hurts, your throat begins to ache from the constriction and blockage, yet you refrain from pulling away. Your pride is too vast to give in first and beg for freedom, not even when your head is spinning, and you feel your grasp on reality slipping away. 

You're too arrogant, too conceited, and too f*ckin full of yourself to back down. It's been your greatest asset that you used and abused to get what you wanted. But it also brings some of the worst consequences that you say you don't deserve...

Anubis tilts his head and watches your collarbone jut against the skin, becoming prominent as your throat constricts from the gagging and choking. His golden eyes observe the flush of your skin, burning with heat that could rival even the god of the sun, Ra. 

Oh, he's becoming aroused from this with the way his c*ck beneath the silk bulges against the cloth and enlarges. It's almost unbelievable. When his shaft was unaroused, it was already ample and presumably could have even filled your palm. 

'F*ck you, Otto.' 

"Only if you are good enough."

What an infuriating piece of sh*t. The ultimate being finds too much pleasure in your suffering. If only there was a way to really get back at him...but you'll think about that another day. 

For now, you return your awareness to the tightening in your chest and vertigo in your head. Your fight-or-flight instincts want to kick in, practically begging you to yank his hand out of your mouth and crawl away. 

But at the same time, there is this euphoria. Warm yet somehow soothing, the lack of air begins to diminish all the little nonsense thoughts. There is no hunger, no exhaustion, or even lust. It's as though you've been pulled beneath heavy, dark waters. With weightlessness and fluidity, it's the most serene sensation you can feel. 

Nothing else matters. 

"Breathe." The sound of Anubis' voice is muffled yet upon feeling his hand being withdrawn from your mouth, you are yanked out of those blissful waters and brought back to reality. 

A cough sputters from your lips just as your eyes focus on the handsome face above yours. Your vision is blurry and muddled for a second before concentrating on his devilish grin. 

"Good girl." You are praised softly with his hand cradling your face, the burning flesh of your cheeks nestled within his coarse palm. "Good little Hemet." 

Yes, yes you are. The praise goes straight to your raging heart, kindling a heat that ignites all your nerves. "Have I earned it, my Lord?" Your fingers that clumped your bedsheets beneath from the hold now burrow your nails against your skin. "Is this unworthy one allowed the privilege to touch?" 

Anubis hums absentmindedly, tilting his head and clicking the jewelry around his neck together. 

"Please, My Nesu. Please grant me the privilege to touch you, to please you. I offer my entire being to you so that I may be able to gratify your ever desire." The words sound slurred in your ears, spoken off a gluttonous tongue. 

The Egyptian deity stares down at your dazed expression, tracing the curves of your nose, the shape of your jaw, and the twitching in your lips. After a minute of silence beside your panting, he responds however with no words. 

No, his large hands grasp the silks around his waist and remove them with fluid motion. Nothing shields his modesty; nothing protects your probing eyes from devouring the sight of his well-endowed length that drips with a pearly white liquid from the colored tip. 

Oh no, you're salivating from the sight. It's gorgeous, holy f*ck it's deliciously exquisite. No wonder he exudes egotism and pretentiousness, the god of the dead has a d*ck that would surely kill you. 

Its length was far longer than your forearm, rivaling something supernatural. The base where his crotch resides is hairless, with the beginning of his shaft straight and existing in a lighter, tanner color than his darker skin. There is even a gold band clasped around the base like a decorated bracelet that matches the ones around his wrist and waist. From there, the middle area thickens just the slightest to the side, but underneath it bulges out to a girth greater than your wrist. 

And then there is the almost pointed tip, with the glands nearly blushing a vibrant red, as though all the blood within is just flooding inside. There are a multitude of veins jutting against the skin, nearly twitching at the sight of your eyes taking it in. But there is one that rivals them all, just right on the underside starting from the base and traveling all the way to the tip with the thickness of your finger. Humans were made in the image of the gods, yet what hangs above your face is nothing close to humane; it feels bestial. 

It's a monster. 

"Be a good little Hemet and please your god," Anubis exclaims while grinning coyly, presenting his sharpened canines in pride. 

Yet before you can even reach up for the terror about to break your jaw, one of his hands grasps the middle of his c*ck to point it downwards, so the tip rests right up against your lips. 

Hot, heavy, musky, and f*cking terrifying, pre-c*m already begins to dribble onto the soft flesh of your lips and infiltrate within your mouth so you can taste the power of a god. 

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

"I'm actually a fairly dominant person. I don't like to have no control or be told what to do." Chin-Sun raised an eyebrow, even tilting her head in surprise as she lifted her eyes from her notebook. "Really? I would have thought that a promiscuous woman like yourself revels in it during intercourse."  You waved a hand dismissively and leaned against the cushion in her office. "You wouldn't be wrong to assume, I can easily switch between dynamics depending on who I'm with, but truthfully I like to steer away from it." The therapist had not expected your response, still sitting there across from you with a perplexed expression. It prompted you to raise a brow. "Come on, what's so shocking about that?" "I know you can switch, but from everything I know so far, you'd be desperate to be a pleaser in a submissive role." Her words harden your expression while straightening your lips.  Refraining from speaking, you observe her more intently than before. It's difficult to tell her expressions or feelings unless she outright displays them...which only happens when she wants you to see it.  "Why would you say that? I don't need praise, I don't need recognition, I just need a good f*ck, and then I'm off on my way." There's a tightening in your throat as you meet her dark eyes. "What even gave you that idea?"   She merely shrugged her shoulder before setting aside her notebook. You watch her closely, following every movement until she leans back and crosses one leg over the other.  "Let's be honest (Y/n). After everything with your father-"  She wasn't able to finish as you launched out of your seat and grasped the coffee table, flipping it over to desecrate the ground with shattered glass and broken decorations. "Don't you even finish that sentence or I swear I'll f*cking rip your throat out."   Your threat did nothing to intimidate the short-haired woman, even though both of you knew there were no empty threats.  You do what you want.   Except when it comes to the therapist, she knows how to make you back down. "No wonder dear o' daddy abandoned you. Even after everything he did, even after ruining you, he just didn't want you anymore."

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

I almost gave Anubis a monster c*ck, like an actual hound c*ck but I decided against it bc Promsicious readers aren't like TDMLM readers.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Next Chapter ━━━➤...updating soon

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

𝐌𝐚𝐦𝐚 signing out

[musicprincess1990]

You know you're a real capital-N NERD when you're chatting with your coworkers, and the subject of fandoms/obsessions comes up, and when one of them asks you what you're currently fangirling over, your answer is British history.

[chipjrwibignaturals]

anyway! one of the jobs I applied and interviewed told me today they’re going w someone else which sucks but like. Ah well, it be like that sometimes.

[romanken]

[surelouisb-arc]

in response to: x.

everyone around him was going dark. auras were growing faint, then disappearing entirely. emotions had become so overwhelmingly terrified that he had forced himself to turn down the volume, so to speak. so strong, he could not rid them entirely... but did he really want to ? if the people were being sentenced to a certain death, and if he had had the potential to stop it but had been far too weakened -- physically and mentally speaking -- what did that say about him ? he was no savior. crusading with cyra hadn’t panned out. dueling with the great red, a blue rim to it, had wound up in his injuries and her tears. and a cruel reminder -- a cruel reminder -- that he was all khevna had. his ability could not save the people, not as he had hoped. he could not save the people, not as he had hoped. stabbing pains, missing teeth, broken ribs... was resignation meant to set in this early ? or had it set in too late ? it was one or the other, but he hadn’t a clue which. however, he was drawn out of his mental berating when he saw a familiar pulsation. as he had told santiago, it was possible for auras to match, but, more often than not, they were like snowflakes... and this particular one, he knew it well. she had been there for him during the worst of it, had tried to supply iditri with whatever life she could give, had offered support whenever he was lacking. she was there now. she was in bergen now. she was fighting now. fighting the man he had nearly incapacitated at the pentagon... before being stabbed in the leg ( but he was confident she would have more luck than himself -- her ability, her talent, and her stamina had never failed to impress him ). if he could have cheered her on, he would have. and if he could have stopped what he would see next, he would have: first, she Glowed. second, tendrils began to Spread. third, her Aura began Dissipating. fourth, he felt a Recharge. fifth: he heard her in his Mind, Saying ‘i believe in you all.’ sixth: her Glow dimmed. seventh: her Aura dimmed. eighth: he could no longer See any trace of her being. ninth: it Sunk In. tenth: she had gone out the way All Heroes were Meant to Go Out. another loss of life. not directly caused by himself. but partially for himself.  successfully Grieving would be for the future. now, he was not Weak. now, he was Supercharged. now, he was ready to Protect Them. that was what she had died for. she would be one of them forever, and there was only one way to honor that: to stand up and fight.